The Dasher Challenge : Part 3 - Too Close To The Sun

The pinpoint precision with which Kei had nailed her "Terada Dropkick" would have toppled most any poor sap still thinking Kei would do the smart thing and take the break in action to rest and recuperate. Except that Dasher had several factors working in his favor that ensured that wouldn't happen. One was simply the fact that his enraged strolling had placed him near the edge of the ring with his back to the ropes. His stomping temper tantrum having proven useful in ways besides simply venting his anger as if steam was coming out of his ears.

The other reason was simply that his upper torso was a rock solid slab of muscle that was well built for taking direct hits. It also meant that he could have his pectorals individually flex to the ladies horror, nausea, or hilarious amusement whenever he was showing off at the beach. It was the first positive aspect that ended up coming in handy this day as the teetering chauvinist fumbled backwards only to have the ropes catch him.

Dasher responded to the sneak attack as only he would...with seething rage and a cocked back arm ready to mow the chipper cheerleader over like a runaway freight train. But Kei made a slight miscalculation with her leaping crossbody slam. And that was telegraphing it the world how Dasher should counter it. The burly grappler skidding to a stop and catching the nimble minx in his wide open arms with a flinching groan and a few backpedaling steps, but Kei would find herself in quite the precarious position. Several feet off the ground and in the powerful embrace of one very pissed off wrestling champion...one who would seamlessly flip the nimble nuisance onto his shoulder and run in place for a full circle before driving her back down to the canvas in a running powerslam beneath over two hundred pounds of rippling man muscle.

This would be the move to end the match. While crossbody splashes weren't exactly known for being monster finishers for people of her rather petite size, other people didn't do it right, obviously. Terada Crossbody Blows were the pinnacle of raw unadulterated power and finesse. Not everyone could be this deadly and precise.

She was angelic in the moment. Not just the perfect image of grace, but the sort of vengeful divine judgement sort of angel. With a fiery sword and armored wings. The kind that would smite giant meat head Oni like Dasher. Everything was going according to plan before he took her taunting as written law and somehow managed to actually catch her. There was an uncertain moment when he fumbled backward that she almost swore she had him but he had steadied himself.

Those damn steroids. After this was all said and done, she was going to bust Dasher's underground juicing ring wide open and expose him to the world as a fraud in another way as well. She could only stand so much cheating from one man, it was time someone took him down a peg or two...hundred. She really disliked him. He deserved to go down all of the pegs.

Kei, to be certain this was as terrible a position as she was thinking it was, squirmed a bit. Wiggling in Dasher's arms, she made the executive decision that this had been a flop. No pun intended. Rather than take her failure with dignity and pride, she kicked, shoved, and slapped at Dasher like a wild animal caught in a snare. "Get your fat sausage fingers off me you hairless gorilla!"

She let out a surprised girly scream as she was popped up into the air to be draped over one of his shoulders. Holy crow, he was strong. This being the thing to finally sell her on that idea the giant wall of muscle and bad haircuts wasn't just for show.

"Hey, wait! I think I see your mom in the crowd, she wants you to let me down! Don't disappoint moth-aaaaah!" Being slammed to the mat wasn't anything new. Even this hard, so hard it shook the ring like thunder. It was Dasher's weight coming down on top of her that really sold the pain. The closet thing to this would be having a couch fall backwards onto her while helping a friend move. It was hard getting those through doorways at an angle. Even then, the couch had some give, and while the cushions may have had their fair share of stains and interesting odors, they weren't slathered up and gross like Dasher was.

From beneath the pile of meat and misogyny Kei lay. She felt like a plastic action figure someone had taken a hammer to. A leg unintentionally twitched letting spectators know she wasn't dead... Or at least not fully. She let out a long tortured groan that devolved into a high pitched whine.

There may have never been a more appropriate example of ironic comeuppance than Kei bellowing out "Get Splatted", only to get exactly what she wanted. The inner machinations of her mind may forever remain an enigma. Frankly because no one in the audience could comprehend what the hell she was thinking by flinging her lightweight frame into the arms of an enraged grappler who bench-presses grown men over twice her weight for a living. It was a simple mathematical equation that when combined together could only have one answer: A pancaked cheerleader leaving a body outline in the canvas from where she was slammed, all while getting uncomfortably familiar with Dasher's sweaty and chiseled musculature weighing her down. Kei being the envy of precisely zero ladies in the arena.

"OORIYAH!!!" Dasher hauled himself back to his feet to stand over Kei and unleashed a testosterone-fueled roar after he finally had a reason to celebrate, the bowl cut brawler flexing his bulging biceps as if he were competing in a body-building contest on muscle beach. It was practically impossible for Dasher to determine which was more undeniably satisfying. Finally getting in another taste of brutal offense against this infuriating and candy coated trollop, or just shutting her motor-mouthed gabbing when she wouldn't even shut up before getting power-slammed into oblivion. But Dasher wouldn't be tricked by her tomfoolery anyway. He knew that his mother is far too old to stay up this late and be in the audience. She prefers to DVR all of her wrestling shows and watch them the next day. Shows what she knows!!!

"BWAHAHA!!! So what's that one called, you little snot?!? The Terada SPLAT??" Dasher taunted with his arms folded in a chiefly pose and a boot pressing down on her boob. His archaic sense of humor having not evolved since the beginning of the match. A massive hand than being brought down to haul the cheerleader back to her feet by a firm clenching of her hair...

Kei didn't breath so much as simply deflate beneath Dasher with a low wheeze that would give a pin prick in a balloon a run for its money. The idea of moving seemed nigh impossible a task beneath him after the two had come crashing down like a boulder dropped from a cliff side. She had been throw around before, fallen off high places, even landed on her head more times than she could count... This was something new. An experience she never really wanted to repeat.

The official dropped down beside the two of them, checking on Kei's condition briefly before raising a hand to count a pinfall. When Dasher began to rise again, they jumped back a bit, slowly standing up again, surprised this wasn't over.

Kei willed Dasher to rise with her mind. Wanting to be free from this terrible musk and muscle. It surprisingly worked, as the large man rose up off of her. Perhaps she had some sort of cognitive power of mind melting she had previously was unaware of. Her eyes weakly narrowed, focused in with laser precision at Dasher's face, waiting for his head to suddenly explode or at the very least his hair to catch fire. Nothing happened.

She must have burned up all her mental juices just lifting his great ape body off of her. If only she had known sooner, she could have made better use of her abilities. Next time... She winced at his shouting. Just the ambience of the crowd buzzing seemed to hurt right now.

As the boot pressed down into her she grunted softly, gritting her teeth at even the modicum weight applied. Sher was thoroughly tenderized already after the powerslam, and now he was putting his giant clown feet on a part of her that was already sensitive to begin with. She winced and squirmed, weakly rising up her arms from the elbow. She wanted to remove the boot, but couldn't muster the strength to do much more that grasp at it rather pathetically.

The referee once again slipped to the mat, ready to count another pinfall attempt when Dasher reached down to grab Kei's hair. The annoyance was apparent in their body langauge as they rose again, focus shifting to Dasher as they stood upright to issue a warning for hair pulling. Normally they would have let this slide, but they were obvious miffed.

Kei understood what it was like to be a slinky. Her body simply went along for the ride as Dasher clenched her dirty blond locks and began to yank her back up. Her eyes briefly eyed the referee giving Dasher guff before something clicked. She drew back her arm as she was hauled upward. Just as she passed his legs, she twisted, hooking her arm violently up between the man's legs to send her inner arm crashing into his family jewels.

"That is the Terada splat..." She choked out hoarsely. Grinning like a maniac.

Despite Dasher obviously riding high from having finally gotten his massive hands on this currently pancaked cheerleader, he wasn't so lost in his euphoria that he was simply forgetting to pin Kei in two consecutive opportunities. He knew full-well that he might have had the match in the bag right than and there, but than the match would come to an end. And that was an outcome he wasn't anywhere near ready to make happen. Not when he was so looking forward to putting Kei through a litany of back-bending submissions, earth-shaking powerslams, close-fisted strikes..and perhaps worst of all, more cheesy jokes and taunts.

Kei had forfeited her right to a quick and seamless finish right around the seven second mark after first meeting Dasher from the top of the ramp, when she dared to start proclaiming his finisher as her own. Dasher having never met someone who infuriated him so, and he works in a business where huge egos and big mouths were the first thing you come across in the locker room. No...it was only after Kei was rendered a rattled, broken, humbled mess blithering into the floor...than she had his permission to lose.

Dasher appreciated Kei's pathetic wriggling beneath him, but soon enough he ended up clamping his meaty hand into her frizzy mane to haul her soon to be sorry backside back to her feet. Dasher took his time in excavating her from her slumber with a malicious smirk on his face, a deflated audience still offering a clapping round of applause to motivate Kei back into the match as he brought Kei to her knees before starting to be badgered by the ref for his illegal hair-pulling. It was the typical referee prattle that Dasher just than turned his head to address. An action immediately regretted as Kei than swung for the fences right between his legs.

"GYOH!!!" Dasher had a look of bulgy eyed shock as he arched over himself with both hand covering his tenders, his voice definitely reaching some high pitched octaves from this crippling agony. An absolute rarity now unfolding as Dasher was the one now getting sympathetic groans from every red-blooded male in the audience who felt his pain, the burly chauvinist than teetering over to crash onto his side in slow motion. The distracted referee having missed the under-handed strike, and now began staring judgmentally at Kei...

Kei had never really assaulted a man's livelihood before, save for giving a boy at school a swift merciless kick between the legs after putting gum in her hair. It wasn't something she sought out to do on the regular. Not that she even wrestled men regularly. No, this was an idea that Dasher himself had implanted into her mind. It came across as poetic justice as the giant lumbered to the side and fell. She was going to defeat him the same way he had beaten his last victim. A more glorious ending didn't exist save for her suddenly developing more super powers and perhaps melting Dasher's ugly much with eye lasers.

She wobbled as Dasher crashed to the canvas, still on her knees unsteadily swaying. She had put a lot into that strike. A good deal of what was left that hadn't been flattened by the bowl cut bruiser anyway. She glanced over to the looking referee catching the stare. Kei innocently grinned up at them, shrugging. "Old men problems. That's why you need to be sure to get doctor checkups on the regular when you are his age. Health is very important." She gave the official a thumbs up as she staggered to her feet.

She stepped around the writhing Dasher, taking her time to make sure her number legs could handle the responsibility of getting her where she needed to go. At his back now, she leaned in to clap the sole of her boot to his back, trying to shove him onto his stomach. It took a few good attempts before she'd be able to roll him over. Once she did though, it was time for the show to begin for the crowd, but end for the orangutan masquerading as a wrestler.

Kei composed herself, taking a long step over Dasher's back, settling herself down on to of him. She'd wrap her arms around one of his, tugging the limb along to try and guide the meaty mass up and over one of her knees. It looked ridiculous with their size difference so readily seen as she worked his other arm into place. Primed and ready for the Inoba Clutch. Sher slipped one hand down under his chin, straining as she arched back trying to lift him back into the hold enough to raise his head. Rather than locking the hold in, her other hand settled on top of his head.

"Now I am going to show the world what a sham you really are." She stated coolly, portraying someone far more accomplished and impressive looking thank the petite girl who looked half dead and frazzled. Her fingers clenched around his hair as she suddenly gave a violent tug... Then another... And another. "...wait, this... Isn't a wig?" She had always assumed the man was bald. Who actively seeks out a haircut like this? It make him look like some leery eyed creeper.

Kei burst into laughter, ruffling his black locks. "Do you cut this mess yourself?! Oh my God, I can't believe this is your actual hair!" While it was true Kei hadn't been taking Dasher as serious as she should have before, now it was all out the window. It didn't matter how much he had tossed her around or flattened her. This was just too much. "Better yet does your mom cut it for you? Just clap a noodle bowl on his head and snip snip!" She slapped the back of his head as she said that, lost in the hysterics.

There might not have been a more definitive, textbook example of karma coming to back to bite someone in the ass than what just unfolded in the ring to every grown man's universal sympathies. But rather than something biting Dasher anywhere, the burly grappler had gotten an uppercut plowed straight into his juevos. His previous shark of an opponent no doubt cackling madly from seeing Dasher get some modicum of comeuppance thanks to Kei scoring one for every single, solitary lady in Tension who would have loved to do the exact same thing....numerous times, and only as a start.

Even the mightiest of giants wouldn't be on their feet for long after getting decked in the gnads, so it was that Dasher flopped over in grimacing pain like a freshly chopped Oak tree, the all-encompassing agony coursing all throughout his manly physique while Kei started making up excuses on the fly to the befuddled referee. The ref could obviously put two and two together over what just happened, and could have given Kei an admonishing or disqualified the spirited cheerleader altogether....which would have been regulation, were it not for Dasher being the prick that he was. The referee flashing her a sly smile of approval and quick thumbs up as Kei stuck a blow for women all around the world.

Dasher grumbled and groaned from being rolled onto his stomach and feeling a perky tush on his spine, his wrestling instincts cluing him in to what was going on when he felt his massive arms propped over her skinny legs. It was an absurd sight for sure as Kei was nowhere near strong or experienced enough too effectively lock down a man of Dahser's sizeable girth, but the crowd nevertheless started cheering for her first ever implementation of the Terada Clutch~...which was more annoying than outright painful-

"RAAAAAGH!!!"

Dasher spoke too soon.

Suddenly his trademark bowl-cut started getting tugged, pulled, yanked and pulled some more until Kei relented from realizing that his bowl cut was au naturel. Much to her own hilarious amusement as she started cackling madly, mentioning his lovely mother for the second consecutive time...and perhaps most egregious of all...started ruffling up his shining bowl cut. Hours of lining it up perfectly with a ruler and his cutting shears and massaging it with the most glistening of hair gels having been undone. A boiling, molten rage started bubbling up within the muscled strong man who was now gnashing his teeth with a seething growl. One knee would shuffle under him, than his other. Kei having literally woke a sleeping giant who was now on his feet and ignoring any lingering aches from having his nuts walloped. With Kei riding piggyback, Dasher belted out a furious battlecry before backpedaling onto the nearest turnbuckle for yet another squashing of the cheerleader with the big mouth.

Even as she shifted from side to side with Dasher's less than subtle tucking of legs, she hardly seemed to know or care what was happening. In her mind he was at her mercy... also she was far too busy having fun at his expense. Why anyone would rock the Dumb and Dumber look seriously was beyond her. Was he just trying to capture his audience of old by trying to look like he did back when dinosaurs roamed the earth? Was he desperate for (negative) attention? Or was he just this fashionably dead inside?  She liked to think both. The thought of Momma Dasher with a matching bowl cut had her in stitches, laughing so hard she was crying.

As muscle mountain rose up, she squawked in surprise, having to abandon her entertainment to get back into the match. She clung to his back like a spider monkey, throwing her arms around his neck to try and hoist herself up to apply a choke. She tried to wrap her legs around him too, but was finding it difficult to actually get fully around him. "Down boy, sit!" She kicked her heels inward, trying to dig them in like spurs to drive back his newfound power to no real result. She held on tight as they bounded backwards, riding on his back like a mechanical bull as she took giant bounds backwards.

Her small frame came crashing into the turnbuckles under his weight, sandwiching her against one of the few places in the ring that wasn't concerned with give. The force bent her backwards, jolting her off him violently as she let out a gasping cry of pain. Her hands snapped down to the ropes, grasping at them in a desperate attempt to try and pry herself free from between the the rock and the hard place with no real success.

It should come as a surprise to no one, except for Kei anyway, that the ultimate tipping point and proverbial last straw for Dasher wasn't some snide remark or the umpteenth bratty provocation from this impudent imp. The tussling and ruffling of his symmetrically perfect bowl cut was enough to have him see several different shades of red during his enraged ascension. His haircut was a significant point of pride for him, a symbol of testosterone emblazoned manliness that he knew others only wished they could brandish with as much natural charisma as he could. And to besmirch his haircut was to besmirch everything he stood for, and he was about ready to teach Kei his favorite part of the lesson about what happens when you mess with the bull.

Being a man of his mountainous size meant that lifting Kei on his back was a non-issue, even with her frantic scrambling slowing him down. Dasher cringing from her skinny arms suddenly knowing how to properly sync in a sleeperhold with her sneakered heels jabbing him in his abdomen as if he were a bucking bronco. This perhaps being the only time Kei would ever want to associate the words "Dasher" and "bucking bronco" without vomiting profusely. Regardless, a few stampeding backsteps and a squishing impact against the turnbuckle was all it took to unseat her from Dasher, who would take a step forward and massage his neck before turning back to Kei.

"RRGH...No-one...messes...with the DO!!!" Dasher bitterly belted out before rearing his free hand back and slamming it down with meteoric force upon her perky chest before easing back off her. Dasher's knife-edge chops being infamously reknowned for making grown men cry. So it was safe to say that Kei had better have some tissues hand right about now.

Pinched between Dasher and the turnbuckle there was precious little she was able to do. The impact alone had been debilitating. Still, she tried to wiggle and squirm her way free. Her attempts were feeble, having been robbed on her strength the moment she had been smashed into the corner. This was most apparent when Dasher moved himself away, and her lithe form collapsed into the corner without his thick form holding her suspended.

Sher managed to catch herself before falling completely, arms hooked over the top rope as she slumped against the turnbuckles on shaky legs. Breathing was an issue. Having been squeezed out like a sponge in a clenched fist. Her head hung down, dirty blond hand covering her face as she took labored breathes. She wasn't sure if being gored into the corner had hurt more or his hair related battlecry. She almost went with the latter.

She stuck out her jaw, breathing out in a heavy huff to blow hair from her eyes, catching the sight of a raised arm before the locks settled back into place. A grim realization striking her just before Dasher's hand belted her across the chest. It normally took a firm unyielding surface for a resounding clap like that to echo throughout the arena. Kei's curvature normally would have made for a rather poor frame to give it that satisfying slap that made the audience cringe so deeply, but the force in which his hand came down on her flatted her up against the turnbuckles as if she were a plank of cedarwood.

Dasher's chop was more easily likened to more of a sledgehammer than a blade. His hand comprised of meat and malice was drawn down on her with such force, it knocked down from where she clung to the top ropes. Legs buckling beneath her, she awkwardly folded up, catching herself in a near sitting position hung up on the middle ropes.

Her scream of agony had been delayed. The initial blow had left her stunned and numb, only in the seconds after did the intense burning register. When it did finally emerge it was guttural and quite telling of how much it had actually hurt. Even some of Kei's detractors we're move to pause at what sounded more like a dying wail than a simple reaction to a chop.

She stared wide eyed at the veil of hair obscuring her vision, taking in sharp breaths through gritted teeth. She seethed with anger and pain, each throb of the swelling mark he no doubt left feeding her inner fire. "You... Yoooooou...."