Faheema Salih vs. Bubbles Burste - Birds Of A Feather

”Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!”

This match had been a roller coaster for the crowd, from start to finish. Not knowing to expect from two new wrestlers on the Friction scene, they’d been treated a match that would’ve fit well on any PPV card. Raw, untamed violence. Brutality and sexuality, fused together. They seemed to not even know who to cheer for and who to boo - the bright, beaming giantess or the dark-skinned beast of a woman. Now, as Bubbles unleashed her full fury, they cheered louder than ever, without any preference, not seeming to care who took the punishment so long as someone did.

It was raw, it was visceral, and it was scaring the hell out of Mariah.

She watched as Bubbles slammed the chair into Faheema’s ass and created that unearthly scream. It was a hoarse, horrible sound, one that she didn’t even know human lungs could produce, but what startled her most was the reaction on Bubbles’ face - or, rather, the lack of reaction. This was the Bubbles few saw, the part of her that wasn’t about fucking and groping and having a good time. Her only goal was to bring this match to an end, in the most decisive way possible, and there wasn’t a force in the arena that would stop her.

The Virgin Killer thought about continuing Faheema’s punishment, but decided against it and tossed the chair away. The damage had been done, the message was sent. Faheema still had plenty of fight in her, that was clear from the way she kicked away Bubbles’ foot, but she had a good idea on how to bring an end to it. A real end.

She reached down, began to grab Faheema, but she paused when she saw the look on her foe’s face. For an instant, the stony gaze on Bubbles’ face softened, as something resembling surprise came over. There wasn’t just resistance in Faheema’s eyes, but real fire. The same fire that was burning when the match started. It hadn’t gone out, not a bit. If anything, it was even brighter than before, and it made Bubbles change her plan right on the spot.

She couldn’t pin Faheema - she was too stubborn for that to work without some serious damage, and Bubbles didn’t think she had the energy left to inflict it. She damn sure couldn’t make Faheema submit. It wouldn’t matter how many bones she broke, this was not a woman who quit. That just left one option.

Bubbles sighed, accepting the truth of it, then reached forward, wrapped her fingers around Faheema’s head, and brought their lips together for a smoldering kiss. It wasn’t just passionate and strong - all of Bubbles’ kisses were like that. This kiss had caring in it, as well, a softness that Bubbles would’ve typically reserved for only one woman in her life. The sort of kiss that was a treasure, a token of her respect.

It was brief. Only for a few seconds.

When those seconds passed, Bubbles grabbed Faheema by the neck, reached between her legs with the other, and lifted the Nubian into the air with one fluid motion, holding her high with a gorilla press. The crowd looked on in awe as her muscles surged with power, keeping the tall woman held aloft in this show of dominance. She could’ve chosen any number of ways to move Faheema, but she went with this. Despite all the effort it took and the way it hurt her battered body. It was worth it.

She took one step forward, then another, then another, until she was in front of the American commentator’s desk. When she was close enough, she threw Faheema down right on top of it, sending paper’s flying around and making the commentator’s flea, wisely clearing the area. They, the cheering fans, and Mariah all knew what was coming next, and they didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

You know...Faheema was beginning to think she wouldn't win this match.

Not that she was going soft or anything. Fighting until the bitter end, refusing to accept defeat, had gotten Faheema this far, and in front of the sea of fans whose patronage had secured her a new life, she could never give anything less. Still, while loss was never a foregone conclusion, the challenge of obtaining victory was starting to escalate past Faheema's reach. Bubbles had earned distinction among the harshest enemies the Nubian had ever faced. She had contended with multiple attackers who hadn't given her this much trouble. Men with guns hadn't inspired as much dread as this Virgin Killer had.

Bearing down on her exhausted opponent, Bubbles grabbed Faheema's head tight, pulled her up, and...brought their lips together. The reprieve was appreciated, but this was no mere kiss that Bubbles was sharing with her. It was reassuring and compassionate, the kind of loving embrace that Faheema had dreamed of receiving since she was 15 years old. Overjoyed by the gesture, Faheema wrapped her arms around Bubbles and melted into her tight grip, closing her eyes as she mewled and sighed into the giant's mouth.

It was a helpful reminder that Faheema actually had something nice to look forward to if she lost this match. In the past, Faheema's fights had promised only bad things to come if she didn't prevail, and so she had learned to fight with nothing held back. Today, however, she had an incentive not to break herself against the wall that was Bubbles Burste, wanting to enjoy the 24 hours to come without a thick haze of post-match agony to obscure it.

Gasping in shock, Faheema was hoisted into the air by her opponent, presented to the crowd like a war trophy. The power on display was as intoxicating to Faheema as it was to them, and she decided not to struggle when Bubbles could easily choose to drop her. Instead, the Nubian simply reached down and poked Bubbles on the top of her head, to get her attention.

“H-hey, gck,” Faheema gagged, struggling to make her voice audible while Bubbles' hand was on her neck. “When the match is over, can you take us by the nurse's office? I'll need some bandaging and painkillers if you want me to be a good girl for you and Mariah,” she said, indirectly revealing her suspicion that she would soon find herself in their captivity. There was an implicit threat contained in the request as well, a suggestion that Faheema would try to ruin their fun if her medical needs weren't attended to.

Wait...where had Bubbles been going with Faheema while the young woman had been busy delivering her ultimatum? They had both moved further away from the ring, near some American who quickly scattered as Bubbles dumped her onto his table like a sack of potatoes. A soft cry passed Faheema's lips as her bones made hard contact with the flimsy wood of the desk, and as bad as the pain was, it was a sense of urgency that truly made her heart palpitate. The audience were reaching a fever pitch, and the nearby officials all looked nervous. Whatever was about to happen inspired fear in people who wouldn't even have to experience it. What terror was Bubbles going to subject her to?

The significance of Bubbles’ kiss might have went over the audience’s head - no doubt, they just took it as one more flicker in the flame that was this sexually-charged slobberknocker.  Maybe some of them had figured out that Mariah was Bubbles’ wife, but it was clear that they had an open relationship, and that they had an understanding that involved intense kisses, among much lewder things.

Mariah was probably the only one who knew Bubbles well enough to realize the importance, to see the difference between this kiss and the ones she’d given Faheema earlier. There was love in that kiss. Lust, too, but not just lust. An energy that had, hitherto, only been Mariah’s too enjoy.

As the match went into its final stage, Mariah found herself chewing her fingernails, a habit she hadn’t been nervous enough to fall into for years. Yes. The three of them were going to have interesting conversations when this was over. But they had to get to that point, first. Luckily, the question of whether Bubbles would win or not had pretty much been answered. Now, the only issue was how she’d seal that deal.

When she dumped her on the table, the options narrowed. Faheema laid before her like a virgin sacrifce on the altar, and Bubbles was the goddess who’d come to claim her. ”We’ll take care of you. I promise.” Bubbles spoke softly, like a mother tucking her child in for the night, calm and comforting despite what her body language conveyed. She crawled on top of the desk and stood tall, with Faheema between her legs, casting a wide a shadow that covered the Nubian’s entire body. ”But first, I need you to do one thing for me.”

Without warning, she reached down and sank her fingers into Faheema’s breasts, latching onto them with a relentless, iron grip, as she stared straight into those wild eyes, looking for that determination. The very thing she needed to destroy if she wanted to truly win this match.

”Go to sleep.”

Those three words, that one order, was all Bubbles said before she lifted Faheema up by her breasts and held her high, suspending her for an agonizing moment. In that one instant, her opponent was hoisted high in the ultimate show of dominance, expressing her control in a way that left no doubts on who the victor was, no questions on who was the predator and who was the prey.

It had been one of the best, most insane fights of Bubbles life, but it was over, and now she’d put the period on it.

Bubbles let out a might war-cry, kicked her legs out, and dropped to her butt while she threw Faheema forward, obliterating the desk with their combined impacts, as she debuted her finisher to the AFW universe - the infamous Breast Bomb.

Darkness fell over Faheema as the blonde goddess climbed atop the table and stood over her. The view wasn't a bad one; a gorgeous, naked body wreathed in light, but all those sculpted muscles were about to make Faheema's life miserable. Especially when Bubbles reached down and chose Faheema's soft breast flesh as her target to grab onto.

Forcing those two mounds to bear all the force that it took to lift a fully grown adult was painful in a manner that could only be appreciated once it had been experienced personally. Bubbles wasn't going to see the look of determined rage that Faheema loved to wear, because as Faheema's body was uprighted and then forced to go airborne, her features twisted into an expression of agony. The steel grip on her chest was so tight that flesh bulged out between Bubbles' fingers as she held Faheema aloft, the Nubian's head thrown up as she screamed and moaned hoarsely. All she could do was kick and press her feet into her opponent's own chest, but it was like trying to kick down a cement wall.

After a few agonizing seconds in the air, Bubbles fell to the Earth, taking her thrashing victim down with her. The crack of splintering wood pierced the air as Bubbles drove her through the table with such force that Faheema didn't even have the wherewithal to scream. When the splinters stopped flying, the African beauty was motionless on the ground, lying in a messy heap near her opponent's feet. The sting of the two-tiered impact on her back carried the potency of a gunshot, and the numerous collisions suffered by the back of her head immediately deprived her of all her senses. All she saw was a muted blend of shifting shadows, and the din reaching her ears seemed more distant than it possibly could have been. Even the pain receded into nothingness, as her nerves fell quiet in the absence of direction.

Against all odds, the thunderous crash didn't knock her unconscious. Not immediately. Her mind flickered with activity, and she was just barely aware of the world. Being bombed into another dimension had brought her to the brink, but Faheema's willpower had helped her stay awake before. If she summoned every drop of rage she could, and pushed her body far beyond what it could handle without risking serious injury, she could maybe get back up, welcome light back into her eyes, and raise her fists for one final stand.

That miraculous comeback never came. Instead, Faheema felt herself slipping away, allowing peace to overtake her weary muscles. Bubbles had worn Faheema down, but she had also done something that no other opponents, even victorious ones, ever could: Bubbles had conquered Faheema's fighting spirit.  For the first time in her life, Faheema didn't want to continue fighting, not in the absence of urgency or danger. Bubbles was as kind as she was strong, provided no one threatened her wife, and Faheema actually felt safe passing out in her company.

Afforded one victorious foe that she felt she could trust, Faheema had lost the survival instinct that usually pushed her to fight through the impossible. For once in her accursed life, the young woman just wanted to relax and let herself rest, so that's exactly what she did. She took a deep breath, relaxed, and slipped into deep sleep, smiling as sexual fantasies involving Bubbles and Mariah filled her last thoughts.

It was simultaneously the most beautiful and terrifying thing Mariah had ever seen Bubbles do, like she wasn’t sure she was watching the best dream or the worst nightmare. She always knew her wife was capable of dealing out this level of destruction, and she’d seen glimpses of her terrible power being used in such a way before. It was hardly the first time she’d busted out that move, but typically it was done in the ring, as a way to put a hard period at the end of Bubbles’ fighting and fucking.

This? This was different? This was sheer violence, ending the match in the same way it had started.

Cries and shouts and cheers and claps rang out through the arena as the crowd erupted into an imperceptible mix of emotions, but Mariah took little note of it as she rushed over, moving as quick as her heels would take her. The referee was already there, kneeling by Bubbles side as she sat there with Faheema between her legs in the midst of the wreckage, looking between the two fallen wrestlers. The two fallen warriors.

When Mariah made her way over, she could see exactly what the referee was checking out. Bubbles wasn’t in the best shape, clearly, her body riddled with bruises all over, telling the unmistakeable story of Faheema’s handiwork. She was as battered and beaten as she’d ever been, looking like she’d been through a warzone.

But she was awake. Despite all that damage, her eyes were still open, she was still aware enough to look up at the referee and Mariah and nod to them both. The same could not be said for Faheema, who laid there in a naked heap, still and lifeless, with a surreal but serene smile on her face.

”Are you…” Mariah went to her knees as the referee rose up and called for the bell, giving Bubbles the official win. It wasn’t a surprise, that conclusion had been fairly clear for the past half-minute or so. Mariah’s focus was mainly on her wife’s wellbeing. ”Are you okay? Is she-”

”I’m good.” Bubbles’ smiled up at her, winced, then smiled against as she started to rise out of the rubble. ”She’s good, we’re all good.”

Despite her words, Bubbles was moving sluggish, nearly falling twice as she rose. Mariah began to move to help her, but she waved her off - her wife could be a proud woman, sometimes. She reached down and hauled Faheema’s lifeless body up, using the same kind of care a mother would on her sleeping baby, despite the Nubian’s weight and sweaty skin.  

”Easy, gotcha.” With some real effort, she managed to get Faheema on her shoulders and started to walk down the aisle, carrying her off like a conquering hero bringing home the spoils of war. Mariah followed by her side as the crowd went into a cheering frenzy, showering them all with praise - to Bubbles for winning, to Faheema for surviving, maybe even to Mariah for setting it all up.

Bubbles just chuckled and looked down at her wife as she trudged her way up the ramp. ”Think they liked the match?”

”I’d say that’s a safe bet.” She returned the smile and looked to Faheema, seeing her sleeping so peacefully on Bubbles shoulders. She almost looked like something reminiscent of cute, as if she were having the most pleasant dreams. Despite the scars and all the wear and tear, she was a beautiful woman. In a way, they even enhanced her beauty, told the story of a woman who’d been through so much before she stepped into the squared circle. ”We stumbled on someone special, didn’t we?”

Bubbles nodded. A single, solemn nod. ”Yes. Yes, we did.” She gave Mariah one more look before the two of them disappeared behind the curtains. ”Let’s get to know her better.”