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26 December 2009 Post Fight Chabert vs Danes

Page history last edited by Archer844 14 years ago

Postmatch as seen on DirectTV

LACEY CHABERT JENNIFER LOVE HEWITT

VS.

CLAIRE DANES KRISTIN KREUK MICHELLE WILLIAMS

Posted by HISC on 12/26/2009, 10:10 am, in reply to "Lacey Chabert vs Claire Danes title bout"

(Note: Perhaps things occurred differently on another channel.)

For those with the special DirectTV FCBA Unexpurgated subscription, the heinous juggery continues. Jen, worried that someone a little overly helpful might pull Mishy free, stands the already greasy-faced, Pearl Harbored Mish. Stuffing her head under Williams’ shoulder, so she can support the elfin blonde, she walks her to the apron. Disengaging, she hups Mishy onto the apron, rolling her under the ropes, and merrily following behind.

Inside, a grinning Lacey is alternating the force feeding of her tawny championship bosom to the groggy, bleary-eyed Sweet Scientist with respites that remove Claire’s features from the warm, satiny, sticky spelunking into Lacey’s cavernous cleavage, Chabert cruelly keeping Danes from passing out cold and ending her fun.

“Who says you can’t have business and pleasure,” Lacey calls out, as she grips Claire’s strawberry blonde locks, holding her flaccid upper body upright with her grip as if clutching a prize trophy she’s taken down during a hottie safari in deepest, darkest Hollywood. The only question now seemed to be if the champ would have Danes stuffed and mounted.

The answer regarding mounting is quick to come, as she again forces Claire’s face forward, a teary-eyed Danes shifting her head softly from side to side, palms weakly pushing against Lacey’s hips, Chabert LOVING that Claire continues to think she can escape if she just tries a little harder and then the inevitable ‘UMPPHHGNGHH’ as she’s swallowed up by the front sleeper once more.

Only a few feet away, Jen has taken a different tact with Mish. The sucker-punched and smothered blonde still has a little more fight left and Hewitt climbs aboard her in a full body-to-body pin, her juggs squashing the considerable assets of the blonde, Jen pressing her body and mammaries almost THROUGH the squirming Michelle, as she grapevines her legs around those of Mish and begins widening, Mishy’s yips turn quickly to yelps and hollers, as her gams are stretched wider and wider.

“Damn it,” Mishy mewls, “STAHHP it.”

“If you insist,” comes the reply, as Love uncoils one leg and brings her knee up into Michelle’s crotch, brutally splitting the wickets with her invading kneecap. The accompanying guttural groan, followed by pitiable squeaks, seems music to Jen’s ears and she unwraps her other gam, sliding up Mishy’s body till her glorious rack hovers over the blonde’s fearful face.

“Don’t even think about coming after the title as long as Lacey and/or I have the title, which is going to be a LONG time. Understand?”

Michelle nods submissively, but is not rewarded for her compliance, as Jen sensuously lowers nonetheless, Mishy spitting out a “But, but..I” before she’s enveloped in the malleable fleshy globes of Jen, her arms circling around and behind Mishy’s tousled flaxen mop to make sure there’s a tight seal between her skin and the topography of Mish’s features. The blonde’s arms faintly press against Jen’s ribs and hips as they slowly trails down Hewitt’s body to their predictable position flat and upturned on the mat.

Suddenly, there is a ruckus from outside the ring and, the late-arriving cavalry, in the form of a snarling Kristin Kreuk hops to the apron, requisite steel folding chair in hand. While she slides through the ropes, Lacey and Jen disengage from the juggshocked Consortium membership and scramble to their feet. Kristin, determined to flatten the interloper who had risen the stakes in this war by coldcocking her World traveling companion Michelle, races at Jen with folding furniture held high. Swinging the makeshift weapon like a baseball bat, Kristin proves her rescuing prowess less than practiced as Jen shifts her curvy frame around the metal. As Kris pulls the chair back up, to perhaps try a swat on a more vertical plane, Chabert shows Kristin how it’s done by racing in with a Yakuza kick that hits the seatpan of the chair and DRIVES it into Kreuk’s forehead.

Somehow, Kristin remains upright, as the chair trickles out of her loosened grip and clangs to the canvas. A furious Jen grabs dual handfuls of Kris’s dark chocolate locks and SLAMS Kreuk’s head back into the metal with a sitout faceslam so forceful that DirecTV almost decides to devote their 14th channel to GI Joe:Rise of the Cobra. As Jen rolls Kristin to her back, between her extended legs, the divot in the metal and Kristin’s eyes rolled white prove the pointlessness of jugging out their third victim.

Love takes Kristin’s wrists and Lacey her ankles. They ambulate Kristin to mid-ring and drop her carcass, then proceed back to Claire and Mishy who have stumbled back to semi-consciousness.

“Want to trade?” Jen asks and Lacey nods. “Sure.”

The domineering juggtastic duo pull Danes and Williams to unsteady feet, bully them back to opposite corners and secure front sleepers, their sweaty, engulfing cleavage again taking whatever they pleased. The exhausted, overwhelmed Wolfpack melts into almost liquid versions of themselves within the adoring clinch of Lacey and Jen.

“I’ll miss having this one around,” Lacey shouts over her shoulder, pulling her chest back to take a peek at the lolled head and fluttering eyelids of the former blonde bully. “She’d be SO fun to dismantle, coming right at me. The other one…you have to be careful with.”

Jen pulls back her hillocks to view Claire’s sweat-covered visage, a line of spittle dribbling from the corner of the strawberry blonde’s drooping lower lip. “Yeah. But I’m pretty sure we won’t have to worry about this group EVER again. They had their time. Now it’s ours.”

Satisfied they’ve wrung every ounce from the Wolfies, Lacey and Jen peel their juggs back and lower, driving a shoulder into the midriff of each victim, then lifting them onto that shoulder, turning, and moving to the center, where Jen deposits Claire in an ‘X’ across Kristin’s lifeless form, and Michelle is laid as a blonde cherry-on-top of the Consortium pile, a threesome demolished and disposed of, a fine end to a decade of dominance and now refuse laid at the curb by Jeri’s girls.