SS 19 Dark Match: Femke 'Golden' Brouwer vs. Bubbles Burste

Getting Femke up for this move would’ve been hard enough if she wasn’t struggling, and the effort she put into it made it a damn-near Herculean task. The Bronze Bruiser fought every inch of the way, wriggling about as Bubble’s lifted her, attempting to squirm her way free, anything and everything she could muster to escape her fate.

It didn’t work, mind you, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t effective in other ways. It made Bubbles spend far more energy than she wanted to, made her body get closer to its limit, and in a match like this, that was crucial. The two of them were tanks, but even tanks needed fuel, and there was no way to tell which of them had more to work with. No way to know until the end.

Still, she liked her chances, and things paid off, as Femke went tumbling and came crashing down on the deck. In the back of her head, she could almost hear Mariah warning her about the next move, telling her to keep playing it safe and work on grinding her opponent down, playing the submission game.

But then, if Bubbles was interested in playing it safe, well, she wouldn’t have taken this match in the first place.

She took a step back after Femke’s impact, then ran forward and leaped straight up, taking her legs in tight like she was doing a cannonball. Which she was, really, only instead of trying to land into a nice, cool pool, she was aiming her back on Femke’s down, looking to sandwich it between her and the hardwood deck.

Femke and Bubbles really were alike.

They had proven it time and again: the way they fucked their wives, the way they fucked each other's wives, the way they fucked each other...the excitement they shared from a distance at the thought of fighting each other, followed by the double knockout, followed by another inconclusive result when it came to making Mariah and Darya scream their names.

Now, as Bubbles launched herself through the air, blocking out the sun with her muscled, buxom frame, Femke felt the same primal sense of fear that Bubbles had felt when Femke had catapulted herself out of the ring in an attempt to crush Bubbles against the ship's deck. "Oh, fucking SHIT!" Femke yelled, as she watched that glorious figure begin to descend, brown skin shining in the sun, like an angel of wrath descending from heaven to lay waste to Femke's chances in this fight.

Thankfully, Femke had the same escape route that Bubbles had earlier. Quickly, hoping it was early enough to remove herself from the splash zone, Femke rolled to the side, and just kept on fricking rolling until Bubbles landed, not wanting to take any chances, even as she felt her gut twist up in knots that set loose some hisses and yelps of agony from Femke's lips!

High risk, high reward, right? Bubbles wasn’t dim, she knew there was a chance that Femke would roll out of the way and avoid her attack entirely, but she wagered the chances were in her favor. After all, she’d done a good job of working over opponent in the-

...wow, they hadn’t even been wrestling five minutes, had they? Felt longer.

Anyway, Bubbles had been running Femke fairly ragged, so she felt the odds were firmly in her favor, and that there was little chance of her opponent avoiding the attack entirely. She was wrong, as it turned out, but that didn’t mean the idea was without merit.

She hit and she hit hard, her bare back crashing into the floor with resonating force, making the entire ship shudder. Bubbles’ shrill cry filled the dry air, echoing out across the sea for miles, rolling over the lapping waves, and the agony was every bit as real as she made it sound. Hurting. Real, true pain.

Even in the midst of it all, though, she had the presence of mind to roll hard away from Femke, wanting to put some distance between them. It wouldn’t be much, but every moment that her opponent spent getting to her was a moment where she wasn’t being pounded, where she could recover.

Femke felt Bubbles's pain.

Three minutes earlier—what seemed like an eternity ago, with multiple swings of momentum back and forth between the two dominant heavyweights—she had been the one to go for a risky leap, and Bubbles, seemingly out of it, had managed to roll away. Femke landed, Femke felt the pain shoot through her spine, through her whole body, and Bubbles took advantage.

Now, mirror images as they were, it was Bubbles's turn to experience all of that. And, when she looked back on today, win or lose, fuck or be fucked, Femke knew there was one lesson that she should take away from it all: Leave the high-flying tactics to the featherweights.

Femke started rolling again, this time in Bubbles's direction, but her rival was rolling away from her, and Femke was still too hurt to catch up quickly. The two of them, big, bruising titanesses that they were, must have been a funny sight right now, rolling like children across the deck of the boat, neither of them looking very much like her usual dynamic self. Thankfully, by virtue of taking the latest big impact, Bubbles was in worse shape than Femke, and the Dutch fighter was confident that, as she finally came to a halt and began to pick herself up onto her feet, she would have the advantage.

Once she was standing, she would slowly make her way over to Bubbles, trying to grab onto that short hair, trying to drag her head up and in between Femke's powerful biceps as the European aimed to lock in a rear naked choke on her friend!

Retreating wasn’t exactly a typical move in the Bubbles’ playbook, but then, this wasn’t a typical match against a typical opponent. That was going to be the trick when it came to Femke, something she’d sniffed out in the first encounter. They were so evenly matched that simply throwing their weight at each other would never get good results - yes, something would have to give eventually, but it would be a toss up on whose side it would be, and she didn’t want chances like that.

No, it wouldn’t just come down to strength, but how that strength was used, who made the most out of their muscle. And that meant playing it smart. Smarter than usual, anyway.

So she rolled hard, knowing it would buy her some time, make it harder for Femke to catch up. She caught her anyway, but even that small extra effort was worth it.

Bubbles put up a struggle as she was lifted up, but there was really nothing to be done in the end - Femke wanted her, Femke took. Powerful arms wrapped around her throat, clamped down hard, lifted her up, and the Virgin Killer was left gasping as the rear naked choke was locked in.

Two hands came up and clutched at Femke’s forearm, gripping it tight, trying hard to pull it away from her throat and score a few stray breaths as she was hauled up. It was a delaying tactic at best, though. Her opponent had her for the moment, clutched tight, and all she could do was writhe and squirm and buck about like a wild animal caught in a snare.

Bubbles bought herself a few extra seconds with her rolling retreat, as Femke had a bit of trouble catching up to her after being so thoroughly beaten up over the last minute and a half of their competition. Still, a tank like Femke was designed to take a punch, to take a thousand punches, and keep on moving, and she managed to do just that, getting up, grabbing Bubbles, and pulling her back into Femke's ferocious embrace, tits pressing into Bubbles's back, arms wrapping snuggly around her neck from behind.

Bubbles's hands grabbed onto her forearm and yanked, managing to force a tiny bit of space into the rear naked choke, rendering it significantly less effective. It would still do the job of knocking Bubbles out, but at this rate that might take twenty minutes—time Femke simply did not have.

She had another option, though. As long as she kept Bubbles under control...

With all the squirming and thrashing, that might not be for much longer. So Femke would take the chance now, shoving forward, pressing her body into her rival's, forcing Bubbles to move her feet, as well. Femke would keep on moving, trying to pick up some speed, lifting Bubbles slightly if she had to to make sure the woman couldn't drag her feet or trip Femke up. And then, Femke would try to slam Bubbles face first into the wall of the ship's cabin!

This was bad. Pretty bad. But nothing that Bubbles had to worry too much about, she figured. It damn sure could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.

Oh, Femke had the hold locked in tight, there was no getting around that, and most women would’ve been in dreamland right now, no doubt with blissful dreams of the mammoth woman who had put them to sleep.

But Bubbles was stronger than most. Harder and hardier. She could hold on for a good deal longer, which would give her more time to figure a way out, to struggle and escape. How did Mariah describe this match? A battle of attrition? Yeah, sounded about right. Stamina would play a big part, and she had plenty to spare.

That sort of thinking wouldn’t have been the worst way to proceed, and Bubbles was just starting to get comfortable with it when Femke started to rise and press forward, lifting her up and hauling her forward. The end goal was obvious - she was going to get her face slammed against the wall, if she didn’t do something fast and strong to counteract it.

Bubbles raised her legs up as they neared the wall, planting her feet against it and pushing off at the last moment, attempting to send them both hurtling backwards. She wasn’t sure where this tumble would end up, but anything had to be better than having her skull caved in.

Femke didn't expect smashing Bubbles's face into the cabin wall would finish her off, or even come close. She did hope it would keep the American woman just stunned enough that Femke could release this choke and switch up her hold to something spectacular, something that would both impress her rival and force her into submission. A torture rack, maybe a ceiling hold.

She wouldn't get the chance to make that decision, as Bubbles brought her legs up, getting her soles on the wall before Femke could deliver her face to it. Though legs compressed like a spring, then suddenly extended again, Bubbles using her strength to override Femke's efforts and sending them backwards again, bouncing right off the wall and back towards the ring! Top-heavy with Bubbles's legs in the air, Femke found herself falling over backwards, and she couldn't do anything to stop it!

She let go of Bubbles as they flew back, letting both of them fall independently. Femke hit the deck hard on her back, then tumbled, ass over head, legs splaying out wide, before she finally came to a rest on her belly. She had to hope the impact had hurt Bubbles enough that she couldn't take advantage. Taking in a deep breath and shaking her head, Femke would force herself onto her hands and knees, and then, as quickly as she could, back up onto her feet, arms up, ready to defend if Bubbles tried to come at her!

Bubbles knew this was going to go poorly, even if it worked the way she had hoped it would. You didn’t have to be a physics major to see the problems, here. All that weight, all that strength, being flung away at full strength, sent tumbling to the floor. There had to be at least 400 pounds between them. A fifth of a ton.

It was a rough crash, with the two of them tumbling away and Bubbles coming down on her shoulders at almost exactly the wrong angle. It sent a raw shock through her bones, and when she flopped over to her chest and her legs came down splayed, there was a strong temptation to just stay that way for a moment and recoup.

It was a temptation she fought the moment she saw Femke getting back up. If that woman could get up, so could she, damn it. No excuses.

Ignoring her aching body, Bubbles pushed to her feet and charged forward, bursting to her feet with a powerful rush. She didn’t have anything complex in mind - she just threw her body hard into Femke with a shoulder tackle, looking to ram her into the very wall that had been meant for her face a moment ago.

Femke knew she could not expect to get the drop on Bubbles. Both of them were hurting now, but neither was about to slow down. The Dutch brawler got up, but within half a second Bubbles was up, too, and the shorter-haired amazon charged at her like a crazed bull, shoulder first, slamming into Femke's torso and throwing her back!

Femke's arms immediately came down, wrapping around Bubbles, grabbing her, seeking to restrain and control her. Femke's back hit the wall that she had been trying to slam Bubbles into, but at least she was not completely helpless right now. She could fight back, and she would do so immediately, moving a hand up to the back of her opponent's head, grabbing on tight so that Bubbles could not pull away if she tried...

...and then dragging that face down into Femke's deep cleavage, really clamping down with her arm to make sure the smother was locked in tight, that Bubbles couldn't get any air at all in that cavern of firm, luscious golden flesh! Meanwhile, Femke would raise her other arm up, palm flat, then bring it down, trying to give Bubbles one big, stinging, authoritative, humiliating spank!