Posted by simguy on 11/22/2007

Before: "Jen's got a second-rate rack," a grinning Mish offers in prefight. "Seriously: Mine's the nicest; Jessica's the fullest; Lacey's the feistiest - Jennifer's comes in somewhere middle of the pack. She's not the queen of JMD - hasn't been for a long, long time. Pasting her out is going to be a pleasure." Hewitt a vocal critic of Williams and the JMD class - she continues her harangue in rebuttal. "If Michelle thinks that even one guy is buying this PPV to get a glimpse of those disappointing flapjacks of hers, she's even loopier than I thought. I built the JMD division: it's a showcase for me. Mish is an opponent - window dressing - someone upon whom I can really lay the jug - and that's exactly what's going to happen. I'm going to wipe Mish out, then show the fans what they've been starving for." Mish in leopard print push up, crimson bikini bottoms; soft blonde curls; black gloves. Jennifer in purple push up and panties with dark purple lace trim and straps; black gloves; long black tangly curls down her back.

During R1: Grunting, bumping, shoulder to shoulder - girls crowding in close, just twitching shoulders side to side, squirming to wedge leather into jug. Fight stumbles to ropes - girls grapple and tumble: Jennifer eventually stabilizing on top, pushing Mish down. Stiff jab - Jen to Mish - sorts Williams out: Williams scowls, shows right at her chest, left across her body as Hewitt squares away. Most JMD-bouts fought in close, hup-hup style: Jennifer elongates - jabbing the inside of Mishy's right shoulder, then SLAMMING home big, buxom right crosses full to jug. Hewitt slugging from medium range, extending on the punches, pushing off her back (right) big toe: very muscular, methodical bombardment. Occasionally hooking off the right hand, thumping at Mishy's tummy: blonde snarling, visibly shaken as she absorbs terrible torso thump to bell.

R2: Wild-pitching melee midring - girls gambling on looping right hands, bending low, jumping away to regroup. Jugs a-jumping as slugging lasses load up - grazing connects getting the audience to ooh and aah. Midway through, vicious exchange of rights brings the girls leaning in close: race to mop-up hooks goes Mishy's way. Hewitt chin-checked, totters back on her heels: Williams hops-to, gleefully wading into Jennifer's trunks with flapping rights and lefts en route to ropes. Hewitt groaning, covering up earmuff: Mishy stands up in the stirrups and GALLOPS to that rack. Chugging, pumping hup-hup - little blonde getting into bulging brunette rack with both fists, bunching up the meat. Poor Hewitt - head still ringing from the hook - chest getting carpet bombed: she loosens, slumping to a seat in the ropes. Hewitt's hands droop - head lolling as her chest is thumped and THE REF JUMPS IN! TKO2 Mish Williams as Hewitt drifts out on her feet.

After: Mish roaring - despite her prefight downgrading of Hewitt's mighty rack, all know it to be one of the division's finest prizes. Gloves are removed, congratulations shared, then a glowing Mish Williams struts barefoot to the Hewitt corner.

Jen a glassy-eyed ruin - reaching up off her stool to push at Mishy's oncoming stomach in protest, but it's no good: Williams takes a double handful of dark locks, yanks Jen to her feet. Left hand still gripping hair, Mishy's right hand takes firm purchase of Hewitt's trunks: one stumbling clockwise rotation for Jen, then she's given the bum's rush out of the ring. Hewitt sprawling outside the ring on the floor, hair in her eyes, knees bent as she lays on her back: Mish jumps down, once again reaching for hair to help Hewitt up. Hugging Jen, Mish drives her back into the apron edge: Hewitt screams, arches picturesquely back, jugs upthrust. Williams leans in - hands on the apron off Jen's left side - Mishy's curvy left thigh slaps full against Hewitt's lower belly, pounding the air out of the brunette, doubling her up. Smiling, Mish hops up to a seat on the apron, then using her arms and legs patiently gathers up the crippled brunette, drawing her in close, tummy to tummy.

Legs lightly scissored up around Jen's ribs, Mish can take her time. Woozy Jen fights it - her hands gripping at Michelle's wrists: the blonde wriggles and writhes, working to get free. Eventually Michelle's able to get a neck clasp on Jen, pulling her head forward, but Hewitt pushes her hands into Michelle's chest and torso, locking out the elbows. Mish licks her lips, working hard to pull Jen in: Hewitt grunting, groaning, baring her teeth as she strives to keep Michelle away, but it's no use. Finally, Williams is able to pull Jen's face to rack - but it's STILL a job of work to secure her. Mish slowly snaking her left arm in behind Jen's head, but Hewitt gets HER left arm up into the hold: Mish has to wrestle that limb out of the way before completing her embrace. After breathy struggle, Mishy's left hand grips her right bicep and her right hand cups the top of Jen's damp skull. Squirming to lock on, Mish shouts "YEAH!" - her legs straightening as she gives the scissor some juice: poor Hewitt's suffering.

Jen won't go quietly. For a time, she works to fit short, stuffing right hands systematically into Mishy's leftside ribs. Williams lips tighten, eyes narrowing: by tightening both scissor and smother, she suppresses Jen's offensive. Hewitt palms the apron, bracing to push up and back, but she hasn't got the strength left. She hugs up around Michelle's warm hips, then pushes at the triceps, then pulls at the shoulders from behind. Mishy glorying, just shimmying once in a while to cinch things tighter, deeper. Hewitt's struggles grow distracted, sleepy as she slips into jugg shock.

Hewitt's legs give way, but she's held in place, standing sleepily inside the dual scissor/smother. Mish knows no restraint: Hewitt's out - Michelle pours it on. Some ringsiders who had been cheering Mish on start shouting for her to release Jennifer - everyone can see Hewitt's purple-clad backside slumping out in those trunks - there's nothing left here. Mishy just grins, cinches, working Jen's face in deeper, brawny little arms in complete control.

Finally, officials move in, pulling at Mishy's biceps and thighs. She grins, clamping on as tight as she can, making sure every last drop of Hewitt is used up before she can be freed.