Photos courtesy BI Photo Lab

“Jugs of Mass Destruction” (JMD) Title

Posted by Simguy on 11/10/2007, 7:38 am

Before: “Everybody sees Mish hurting and quite honestly? We’re loving it,” says a fierce little Ricci at the preflight podium. “Williams ruled with an iron fist in her hey-day and believe me--now that she’s stumbling, NOBODY’S shedding any tears. I’m gonna give Mish the rump-dusting of a lifetime in this one--I’m gonna bust that rack like it’s never been busted before, and when I’m done? The line of girls who want their turn on Mish is gonna stretch right around the corner, believe me.” Williams brash, brazen, cocky as ever in public: inside sources say the private Mish is somewhat more fragile and rocked by the Panettiere setback. “Whatever--I’m shaking in my boots,” Williams scoffs at the podium, “If a bunch of Ricci-class girls want to see if I’ve slipped, I’m more than willing to accommodate them. Girls have short memories and big egos--I’m sure a lot of them DO think they can make a move on me, but if they watch this fight, I think they’ll realize that being too brave is going to be very, very unhealthy.” Mish in leopard print push up, red boy cut bottoms, white gloves. Ricci in purple pushup, white cotton panties, black gloves--but Mishy snaps off a quick right/left pasting Ricci’s jugs and stunning the champ. “I’M UP TWO!” Mishy shouts as ref jumps in to prevent tawdry pre-brawl brawling.

During R1: Hurtling bumper-car slugging/pushing--girls huffing and puffing midring as they push each other’s hands aside, trying to slug away to beef. Sloppy jiggle-fest--both girls looking to push for position, then take advantage--fight staggers around ring, bouncing off ropes, visiting corners. Down the stretch, Mish gets strong, bodying Ricci to ropes and stuffing thick rights and lefts to Christina’s breadbasket o get her gasping. ROMPING HUP-HUP, MISH WILLIAMS! Crowd roaring in approval as grinning’ Williams squares away and helps herself to rack via rising rights and lefts. Ricci’s meat bunched up--bra-strap bowing out, then snapping back into place as her melons jump up and down, Bell, Mishy’s still partaking: ref has to pull rambunctious challenger off bleating champion.

R2: Push and shove--girls all tangled blonde curls, flashing eyes, gnashing snarls, stamping legs, trembling backsides. Ricci very determined here--shoving Mishy ropeside and celebrating with a fierce pumping to rack: Williams sobbing out loud as Christina piles into rack with both hands chugging. Williams squirming away, sliding along ropes--but Ricci stepping-with, reinitiating, beating her fists against Mishy tummy and tits. Down the stretch--Mish with a quick right hand jolts Chrissy to trunks: Ricci’s bunched up hurt--Mish gathers her in, twists her, muscles her to ropes and MUGS THOSE JUGS! Mishy resplendent--big rowdy smile, hair back like she’s doing 60 in a convertible on a fine sunny day--LOVIN’ it on Chris. Ricci bleating in pain--Mishy just all up in there--shirt, up thrusting rights and lefts working the beef--Williams shoulders rotating, her own jugs a-jumping as she steals a Ricci round with late ferocity.

R3: Ricci pastes Mish a swinging right hand to face midring--Williams jerked a quarter turn to her right, stumbles away gob smacked. Ricci piling in from behind, pancakes Mish chest-first to ropes: seething little champion holds Mish down with left forearm in the back, plugging away righty to rump and kidney with teeth bared, Williams sobbing, lifts left leg and puts it on the ropes: wrestling instincts work to save Mish as ref moves in smartly to break. Resume--girls collide, embrace, stumble to canvas--wild scramble of thrashing legs results as hugging girls compete to get on top. More ref intervention, shouted warnings, hard shakings for both girls: JMD mindlessness possessing both vixens. Down the stretch it’s Ricci running into a jarring Williams right cross--Chrissy nearly dropped, stumbles forward instead--right onto a pumping series of rights and lefts to jug as Williams steps back in good order. Bell: Mishy still roasting Ricci’s chestnuts--both girls getting extravagant licks in through 3.

R4: Fierce exchange of wild-swinging rights and lefts midring goes Mishy’s way: her punches all land, pasting Ricci’s face side to side and leaving Chrissy wobbly butt. Ricci’s legs rubbery, can’t hold canvas--she’s stampeded to ropes, jammed hard to cables as Mishy lifts the broad plane of her left thigh PAKK! Into Christina’s tummy. Mish widening stance, squaring away: she gets to chugging methodical, lowering her head and going at the trunks and tummy of her foe to soften. Chrissy’s gurgling, drooping forward, lips parted, eyelashes starting to flutter: she’s loosening badly. When Mishy goes rack, it’s on virtually defenseless opposition--just a joyous, shrugging bumping of the best of Ricci. Chrissy slumping into ropes, head lolling, hands dropping--Mishy’s taking jugg--too much jugg: all Ricci can do is trust her curvy legs to hold her up. Bell: Ricci out on her feet--Mishy chests up shouting “GIVE ME COMPETITION!”

R5: Weepy Ricci up off her stool, but she’s ramshackle: Mishy hurtles in, pancaking champ to ropes, stuffing 3 thick right hands to gut while crowding Ricci upright. Mish pushes Ricci, sets feet wife--Williams grinning’ broad as she settles into chugging hup-hup, belting away at the last of Ricci’s reserves. Chrissy going out quietly, butt propping her in the ropes, hands dropping to her lap. Champ’s head lolls forward, body jerking under the impact of Mishy’s thudding leather. Williams punching the only thing keeping Ricci up--if Mish stepped away, Chrissy would puddle, but Williams having none of it. More jug taken, extra jug, then still more jug excavated from those jumping cups. Ref finally moves in as even howling mob starts to scream for fight to be stopped--Mish Williams wrenches the tiara away from Chris Ricci TKO5.

After: Cheeky! Ricci taken to her stool, still sloppy with KO-hurt--when Mish herself pushes in, taking it upon herself to bring Ricci around with smelling salts. Mish smirking as she braces Ricci with a left arm about the shoulders while giving her a whiff--Chris all comical-blinking and stupefied as Mish hugs her up off her stool. Playground-punching right hand to pit of Ricci’s stomach doubles her over as Mish stands ready to receive: simple job of work to muscle Ricci’s face into the bulge of Williams’ pushed-up cleavage from there.

Williams securing with the left arm strong behind Ricci’s head; left hand gripping Mishy’s right bicep; right hand clutching a fistful of Ricci’s damp blonde curls. Once it’s snug--Mish shouts out “YEAH!” staring past Ricci into the hooting audience.  Brawny little clinches and adjustments bring muffled whimpers from Chris--her hands palming at Mishy’s belligerent hips, or cupping Mishy’s triumphant ribs. Williams enjoying Ricci on the spot, but eventually walking her back into Christina’s corner. Mishy propping her left foot in the ropes leans in, getting more torso-weight onto Ricci and slumping her to a seat on the turnbuckle, Ricci reaching up behind Mish, pulling at those brawny blonde shoulders, but there’s no escape, Finally, sated Mish releases, steps aside while wiping her lips with the back of her right hand, staring as Ricci pools forward to lie in stupor, face down on canvas.

But Mishy: she’s just not done yet.

Williams smiling, sits on her haunches, hands on her thighs as she contemplates used-up Chris, then reaches under Ricci’s left side to bull Chris to her back. Deadweight former champ just slumbering, head lolling gently side to side as she sloshed about: Mish straighten back to her haunches gropes about in her trunks for those handy smelling salts, then carefully brings Ricci around on her back.. Chris coming-to all spluttering-left hand brushing at her face: Mishy gently straddles Chris, sitting on her stomach, carefully pushing her arms out of the way before lowering those all-conquering breasts onto Ricci’s damp, open-mouthed face. Whimpered plea from exhausted Christina as she’ sealed in darkness again: her hands reaching up behind Mish to pull weakly at her shoulders, or push helpless at the flanks.

Again. Ricci’s struggles subside: she lies still and punished beneath the weight of Mish, going out to Williams’ jug. Ringsiders for officials to do something; officials consulting manuals, trying to find out if Mish is actually breaking any rules here, Williams sitting up all sweaty and glorious, reaching back into her trunks to get those salts. Ricci’s face shining under hot lamplight, hair clamped damp to cheeks and necks as Mishy brings her around once again.

HBO cuts to tape of Swan Lake. Mishy carves out a new low for post-fight humiliations. Details hazy on just how much Ricci Mish could conceivably treat herself to--I mean--how much is enough?

Reposted by Archer 7/11/11.