Brielle Robillard (FFC 1-0-0) vs Maggie Lindemann (1-1-0)
Lookout/CountryMouse

Round 1:

"I saw your scrap with Mickie Hara.” Lindemann sneers, patting her own bare stomach with confidence. She sports a cropped t-shirt, proudly displaying her tattoo sleeves and slender belly. Her skirt hangs low on her hips, barely reaching a few inches below the thigh. And those big, fuzzy, impractical boots complete the look. “We all had a good laugh watching her pound you in the stomach. You’re pretty soft there huh? Well I’m gonna give you the worst belly beating of your life and leave you crying on the mat,"

All American girl Brielle, dressed in a simple, flattering blue Lycra tank top and shorts, retorts, "I schooled her, you dumbass!"

The bell rings, and Lindemann charges, swinging wildly but hitting air. WHOOSH! Brielle dances, dodging a hook. WHOOSH! Brielle lands a cross on Maggie's cheek! WHAP! An uppercut follows, snapping Maggie's head back! CRACK! Another cross connects! THWACK! Maggie's legs wobble, blinking stars as the bell saves her. Brielle controls the round, winning on points in a tight bout.

Round 2:

The girls circle, tense as a coiled spring. Lindemann strikes, her cross grazing Robillard's head as she sidesteps. Backpedaling, Brielle falls for a feint, Lindemann going for the stomach, but instead Lindemann lands a solid hook to Robillard’s right cheek. The impact staggers Brielle, stars flickering in her vision.

For a fleeting moment, the soft curve of Brielle's stomach is exposed, enticing with it’s soft supple curves. Lindemann's eyes narrow in predatory focus, a hunger flickering in their depths. But before she claim her prize, Brielle manages to regain her composure, her defenses snapping back into place.

Round 3:

Brielle's chin takes the brunt of a hard cross, momentarily throwing off her rhythm. she raises her hands in defense, her chest rising and falling, standing her ground. Maggie, with her stork-like legs, advances like a cat. SPAT! SPAT! Brielle's defenses hold, but Maggie's jabs keep coming, tapping out a rhythm on Robillard’s face. The round ends with Maggie dominating Brielle into her corner, her tummy is wide open, practically begging for a hard slug from Maggie.

The skinny alt girl made to pounce on Robillard’s soft midsection and take out her frustration. But the bell rang at that moment and the referee moved in front of her calling off the attack.

Across the ring, Robillard gave Lindemann a playful wink…

Round 4:

Maggie is huffing and puffing and Brielle springs back onto her toes ready to blow Maggie’s house in. She asserts control with a barrage of jabs, forcing the skinny Goth to dance to her rhythm.. Jab! Cross! Maggie's head snaps sideways, dropping her guard in eyes wide with disbelief. Jab!

Robillard's grin widens as Lindmann raises her arms to protect only her face, knowing full well that Maggie has been going full throttle for three rounds, while Brielle has been biding her time, conserving her energy. And it certainly doesn't help that Maggie has been neglecting her conditioning sessions, her rail-thin physique questioning the necessity of such training. Maggie's chest heaves with exhaustion, her forehead gleaming with sweat, strands of hair falling into her eyes, hindering her vision as she struggles to protect her face. She watches, uncertain as Brielle approaches, dropping her shoulder. Then it dawns on her, “No… please don’t…”

With a sharp motion, Robillard thrusts her right arm forward, channeling all of her 115 pounds into the punch. WOMP! Leather connects with the tender indentation of Maggie’s belly, striking squarely in the solar plexus with the force of a cannonball. Maggie's eyes widen to twice their normal size as she emits a primal "ouph!" sound. The petite girl glares at her opponent, her brow furrowed in confusion, as she tries to make sense of the unexpected blow.

Bending at the waist, skinny legs pedaling in place. Maggie instinctively hugs her tummy, her body seemingly experiencing a glitch as if it's forgotten how to breathe. It's not quite pain yet, more like a deep compression, a vise tightening around her diaphragm, making it impossible to inhale. Panic rises as Maggie struggles for air, wondering where it's all gone. She feels herself sinking to her knees, one at a time, her body betraying her as she fights to regain control.

The pain starts as a tiny ember before erupting into a relentless blaze, Maggie finds herself on the ground, curled up from belly to thigh, desperate to shrink into nothingness. She blinks furiously, attempting to dispel the agony that consumes her, her mouth gnawing for air as she struggles to cope with a pain she never imagined possible, its intensity overwhelming her senses.

The referee approaches, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay, Maggie?" Lindemann responds with tearful sobs. "Okay, I'm calling it," he announces.

"No!" Maggie manages to croak, her voice strained. "I'm not quitting." The referee shrugs, beginning the count.

"1… 2…" Maggie moans in agony, attempting to pull herself up. "5… 6…" She reaches the ropes, clinging to them for support. "8… 9…" Miraculously, Lindemann finds her feet once more. Ding!

Round 5:

"I'm gonna kick your butt, you b*tch!" Lindemann rasps, doubled over and clutching her throbbing stomach. Maggie stumbled to center ring…

OOF! Brielle casually places a glove behind the girl's head, drawing her in closer as she delivers another powerful blow to the scrawny alt girl's stomach. Maggie raises an eyebrow, lost in thought. What were her plans for today? She had coffee earlier and worked on some lyrics, played her guitar a bit at home. Who is this cute blonde girl smiling at her? Maggie struggles to catch her breath. There's something else... oh, she has a boxing match coming up! How did that go, she wonders?

Suddenly, reality slammed into her like a freight train. She was in the midst of a fight, and losing it fast! Brielle's fist remained lodged in her gut, hoisting her slender frame onto her tiptoes. Her arms flailed, legs kicked, movements erratic. Maggie's focus narrowed to the present moment, the agony in her belly distant yet all-encompassing. She was vaguely aware of the pretty girl pulling back her arm and…

THUD! Maggie exhaled sharply, a soft, trembling sigh escaping her lips, as Robillard's leather glove slammed into her guts. Lindemann's feet left the canvas, her body curling around her assailant's fist, her skinny legs like noodles, unable to do anything but cling to Brielle.

Someone from the crowd yelled, "Yeah, give her another one in the gut!"

"Make her feel it, Brielle! She can't handle it!" Another shouted.

Of course, this left her in the perfect position for Robillard to drive two more hard hooks under her rib cage! THUMP! THUMP! Maggie could only let out a gentle, choked sob, the sound muffled by tears.

"That's it, Robillard!" the referee commanded, "Separate!" The blonde released her hold on the ragdoll-like figure, and Maggie collapsed in a heap, curling up into a tight ball on the canvas. She became a pathetic, sobbing mess of hair and running makeup.

"I bet she's regretting stepping into the ring now. What a wimp!" Said someone in the crowd.

Meanwhile, Brielle sat back in her corner, calmly sipping water, a hint of irony in her expression as she watched Lindemann squirm and whimper on the canvas. The referee made the count as a courtesy, though it was clear to everyone in the arena that Lindemann was in no condition to continue.

Brielle Robillard wins via KO5!