Littlest Pet Shop of Horrors

“D-damn it!” Phoebe growled, as her advantage slipped away. She had the same sort of concern as her opponent, wondering whether or not she would be subjected to any—or all—of them by the time the match was over.

Phoebe was still holding her abdomen as Gemma ran backwards and bounced off of the ropes. The cowgirl only saw her opponent coming at the last second—far too late to stop her as she saw the girl swing her leg backwards, then let it come forwards again, connecting at high speed with Phoebeâ€s chest. “Blaaaarh!” Phoebe spluttered, a shower of saliva splattering the mat in front of her as she screamed following the blow. She fell onto her back, panting heavily, cursing her opponent and figuring out exactly how she was going to humiliate the girl.

Gemma's wide eyes followed the spittle flying from Phoebe's mouth after the kick. Gemma leaned over her foe with a smirk, and said, "Cupcake, you've got a little ... something ... Y'know what? Never mind." She waved her hand over Phoebe's face dismissively, hoping that this would finally manage to rattle her opponent's confidence.

Gemma's primary thought, however, was still on the myriad possibilities for pain and humiliation spread out around them in the ring. With her foe on her back, Gemma figured her best bet would be to go for the quick win. Get the leash, do whatever ridiculous thing she had to do, to get this girl to give up, and get back to the locker room not smelling like dog food. Trying to quiet the dread balled up in the pit of her stomach, Gemma opted for a foolhardy attempt at getting some crowd support behind her. Hopping over Phoebe's prone body, Gemma decided to use the bottom ropes of the rings for leverage to springboard herself onto the cat tower, turning around in midair to grab it.

Generally used to high-flying show-off maneuvers, the actual vault wouldn't be the difficult part; getting hold of the cat tower, however, was. As if she'd never been in a match involving a cat tower, or something. She'd stick the landing (rather tenuously) with her feet on the bottom tier of the tower, her hands gripping the center. Even once she got her balance, Gemma would have to lift herself a bit more, to reach the leash. She hoped the crowd appreciated her stunt, because it hadn't done her any practical favours. With all of her effort focused on pulling her bum up the over sized cat tower, Gemma had momentarily forgotten about Phoebe, as well.

Seeing her foe leaning over her, taunting her, Phoebeâ€s face turned a light shade of red. It definitely shook her, but she was not going to take that lying down. “Shut your face, you idiot,” she growled, before spitting upwards, trying to launch the saliva right into Gemmaâ€s face as payback for the mocking she had received from the British girl.

Phoebe braced herself for more punishment from her platinum blonde foe, but, instead of pressing her advantage, the girl seemed to be taking the opportunity to try to secure the leash and set herself up for a quick, easy victory. Phoebe scoffed contemptuously at her opponentâ€s foolhardiness. If she really thought she was going to be able to just kick Phoebe once or twice, then put the leash on her and make her submit, she was sorely misguided. Phoebe was a true brawler. She had suffered through much worse in her day. There was still no doubt in her mind as to whether or not she would be coming out on top.

Slowly, Phoebe would dust herself off and begin to get back up, first onto her knees, then onto her feet. Seeing the way her opponent got up onto the tower, Phoebe would follow, but in a slightly more practical way; she would simply stand beneath the tree and jump upwards, managing to grab onto the bottom level and slowly but surely hoist herself up onto it, utilizing her upper body strength.

Gemma had been too caught up in her own racing thoughts about trying to win the match before things got too rough for her, to notice the spittle Phoebe had sent flying her way. Now, however, as she was taking careful assessment of her body's struggle to climb the cat tree and trying to figure out the best way to ascend the thing, she looked down and saw the wad of spit running down her chest. She fought back a choke of disgust, as it was trailing down between her breasts and into her shirt.

That disgust, however, was enough to snap Gemma back into awareness of her surroundings. She winced as she looked over to see Phoebe ascending the tower, as well. Gemma could have kicked herself for being so foolhardy; her hopes of escaping this match with a quick win were immediately shattered.

Gathering herself, Gemma tightened her hands on the holds she'd found in the cat tower. She hated giving up on trying to reach the leash, but she felt even worse about the idea of Phoebe getting hold of it. Kicking her feet up off the tower, Gemma swung her legs through the open space in the center of the tower, and tried to wrap them around Phoebe (either her waist or neck, depending on how high Phoebe had managed to ascend). If she could manage this, Gemma would sacrifice her hand's grip to hurl herself off the tower and hopefully pull Phoebe down with her in a legscissor takedown maneuver. She closed her eyes tightly, knowing there was a good chance this wouldn't work out well for either of them.

Phoebe noticed how her spit trailed down Gemmaâ€s chest, and, once the British girl finally noticed it and gave a little grimace, the cowgirl would smirk, enjoying her opponentâ€s disgust. “Thatâ€s what you get!” she called over to her opponent, as the two of them both clung onto the bottom level of the cat tree, trying to hoist themselves up. Phoebe had managed to claw her entire upper half up onto the platform by the time Gemmaâ€s legs unexpected wrapped themselves around her waist.

“Wah!?” Phoebe exclaimed, not prepared to be attacked while climbing. She had been expecting a fight on the platform itself. She hadnâ€t thought Gemma would be so daring as to attack her when it was possible for both of them to lose their grip. “L-let me go!” Phoebe demanded, but Gemma seemed to pay no heed to the insistent American girl. She threw the two of them off of the tower, and they fell the full six feet back onto the mat. Phoebe screamed as she landed hard on her head and upper back, pain exploding in her cranium as she crumpled in the strong hold of her foeâ€s thighs.

Gemma did her best to ignore Phoebe's taunting, even as she could feel the trail of saliva still running its way down her top. She'd been so nervous when she noticed that her opponent was also making her way up the cat tree, that she had lost focus. Her hopes of a quick finish had been immediately replaced by an overwhelming fear of Phoebe, and what she might do once she got her hands on the leash. The fear had been so intense, in fact, that it had overridden Gemma's common sense and led her to the reckless leg scissor maneuver she was attempting.

As she felt her legs wrap around Phoebe's toned midsection, Gemma released her handholds and dove outward, throwing all of her weight into bringing the both of them down off the tower. Gemma landed hard against the mat, and while she would have liked to keep Phoebe in the grip of her powerful legs, she simply couldn't manage. In fact, as her momentum caused her to roll away from the center of the ring, Gemma was fortunate enough to catch the ring ropes before sliding out below them. She took a moment to catch her breath; wide eyed and panting, Gemma remembered that if she'd slipped outside, she'd be subjected to the agony of the electrified collar. Trying to calm her nerves, Gemma began pulling herself up, using the ring ropes for leverage.

While she was freed from the crushing hold of Gemmaâ€s powerful legs, there was not much else going right for Phoebe right now. She had landed hard on her head and upper body, and the force of the impact had knocked her out, or come damn close to it. Her body flopped like a ragdoll, bouncing across the mat after being released from between Gemmaâ€s legs, before beginning to come to a stop near the ringâ€s edge.

She rolled just a bit too far, however, and, just as Phoebeâ€s eyelids fluttered, and her body began showing a few other signs of life, she slipped under the bottom rope and fell out of the ring. The crowd let out a loud, anxious “Oooooh” as the cowgirl landed hard on the floor. A second later, lightning coursed through her body, and she was awoken from her stupor in complete agony.

Phoebe let out a blood-curdling scream, shaking her head wildly, her hands clawing at the collar, trying to tear it off, but only succeeding in scratching up her own throat. Her eyes wide and wet with tears, she would grab onto the ring apron, ignoring both the shooting pain of the electric shocks and the lingering ache of the impact on the mat as she pulled herself back into the ring, screaming all the while.

"Bloody hell!" Gemma exclaimed, hearing Phoebe's wail echo through the arena. She breathed an audible sigh of relief, even more thankful her reckless high-flying hadn't landed her on the outside, facing the merciless invisible fence. She looked about the arena, wide-eyed. While she'd been more than a bit cocky going into tonight's match, any confidence she had was suddenly replaced by (what she felt was a very justified) fear.

Pulling herself back to her feet, Gemma spent a moment trying to get her balance back. She felt badly for Phoebe, obviously in agony, but Gemma knew that if she didn't press her advantage, there was a good chance she'd be the next one on the mat, suffering like that.

Suddenly quite gun-shy about going for the lead at the top of the tower yet again, Gemma opted instead to take the offensive to Phoebe. Approaching the downed cowgirl, Gemma attempted to wrap her arm around Phoebe's neck, and get a good grip on the waistband of her shorts. If she was able to get a good grip, Gemma would attempt a quick snap suplex, hoping to land Phoebe on her back, next to one of the cages in the ring corner.

At long last, Phoebe made it back into the ring. With an almost-silent click, her shock collar ceased to produce the electric waves that tormented her. The audience, most of which had been more than a little concerned for the wailing cowgirl, breathed a sigh of relief, and resumed their loud, raucous cheering, once again dividing themselves into two opposing camps supporting the two wrestlers. Most of them certainly wished that neither fighter would fall out of the ring again. The apparatuses and the weapons contained within the ring were interesting, or cute, or even sexy. The invisible electric fence was simply cringe-inducing.

When Gemma approached her and grabbed her, wrapping one arm around her neck and using the other to grab the waist of her skirt, Phoebe was still far too out of it to resist. All she seemed to be able to do was watch detachedly as the British girl lifted her up, then slammed her down onto the mat on her back, eliciting another pained cry from Phoebe as she landed next to the dog cage in the corner.

Gemma released Phoebe the moment she felt her come down onto the mat. It wasn't often she'd attempt that kind of move, so there was quite a bit of relief on her part that it had actually panned out. Gemma still felt guilty about punishing the girl after what she'd been through on that electric fence, but she knew that if the advantage wasn't pressed now, there was far too good a chance she was going to end up subjected to that trap herself. Let alone any of the other, potentially humiliating weapons and props strewn about them, in the ring. Gemma couldn't get over worrying about the sloppy bowls of wet dog food laid out in the ring ... Shaking her head, she resolved to move onto stage two of her plan.

With a quick kip-up to her feet, Gemma turned to the pet cage she'd dropped Phoebe next to. Pulling the door open, Gemma patted the top with one hand, waving to the audience with the other. She hoped that if she could get the crowd behind her next move, she'd feel a bit better about it. Stepping back towards Phoebe, Gemma attempted to pick her up, wrapping one arm beneath Phoebe's knees and the other lifting her at the shoulders. Gemma hoped to force her opponent into the cage, giving her another shot at the lead hanging above the two of them. She moved cautiously, still feeling guilty, only moving Phoebe slowly and gingerly towards the cage. And all the while, her attention was far less on the electrocuted cowgirl, and more on the next task ahead of her, and the hope that it would help her to escape this match.