Ms. Liberty vs. Big, Bad Bertha
Veteran's Division Championship Match!

I sat at ringside watching Big, Bad Bertha defend her Veteran’s Division Title against Elektra, waiting for the doctor to come and get me to take Ms. Liberty home. In the preliminary match, Ms. Liberty had somehow managed to defeat Lace and thereby earn the right to face the winner of the Veteran’s Division Championship match now underway. But the price she paid for that right was a steep one. The match against Lace had been long and brutal with Ms. Liberty’s 54 year old body taking much more punishment than it dished out. As a result she was left dehydrated with a raised body temperature, bruised ribs and various other bumps and bruises. I was worried about her, but the doctor assured me that she would be okay so I remained at ringside and watched as Bertha defeated Elektra under questionable circumstances.

Just as the championship belt was being fitted around Bertha’s portly midsection, I was finally summoned to come and take Ms. Liberty home. I walked into the hallway outside of the locker room just as Ms. Liberty was being assisted out by one of the attendants, unable to walk on her own. I smiled at her as the doctor chatted to me for a few more moments before she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, still clad in the tight blue spandex bodysuit and boots she had worn during her match. She said nothing as we began to make our way toward the exit and though she tried to hide it from me, her red face and hushed grunts with each step she took were evidence of the pain she was in.

Before we got very far however, Bertha burst into the hallway, proudly wearing her championship belt. She noticed the two of us walking toward the door and reached for a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long puff as she made her way over. She walked up in front of us and blew a long stream of smoke into Ms. Liberty’s face which engulfed her head. Too tired to protest, Ms. Liberty lifted her bowed head and stared back at the champ, who offered a final warning.

“Look grandma, I defended my title!” she began, placing her hands on her hips to display her championship belt. “So it looks like you’re gonna get your wish. You and me in the ring together. Won’t that be sweet!” she continued sarcastically. “So you go rest up, ‘cause if ya think that what I did to your friend The Babe was bad, that ain’t nuthin’ compared to what I’m gonna do to you!”

She then took another drag of her cigarette, blowing it straight into Ms. Liberty’s face once again. As the bruised Ms. Liberty coughed, I felt obligated to defend her, especially since she was in no condition to defend herself.

“We’ll see about that Bertha!” I responded defiantly, unable to come up with a wittier retort. I then continued to help Ms. Liberty out of the arena, getting her into my car before we drove away.

She lived about an hour away from the arena, while my apartment was much closer. We did not speak at all during the drive since she started to nod off quickly. As such, I decided that it was best to take her to my apartment rather than drive her all the way home, especially since she had recently separated from her husband and would have to spend the night alone there. She could spend the night with me in my apartment and I would take her home in the morning. We reached my building but there were no parking spaces available so, wanting to get her inside as quickly as possible, I double parked the car and turned it off, helping her out and into my apartment. I helped her to my bed and lowered her gently down onto it. She laid back as I took out a pair of shorts and tee shirt for her to change into.

“I’ve got to go and park the car, but you can change into these while I’m gone.” I suggested, placing them down onto the bed.

I then left her, spending the next 15 minutes trying to find a parking space. When I finally returned, I found her out cold on my bed, still dressed in her wrestling outfit. I untied her red boots and gently slipped them off, choosing to stop right there. She barely stirred as I pulled them off of her feet, so I decided it was best to leave her be. I then took a seat in the chair in the corner of my room, looking back at her as she slept.

As I watched her tightly swathed chest heave up and down, I began to think about the absurdity of the situation. Lying in my bed was the spandex wrapped body of a 54 year old woman I had known most of my life. As the mother of one of my best friend’s, I had known her since my childhood and she had always been like an aunt to me. That was, up until about a year ago when she revealed that she was a retired professional wrestler. The revelation was stunning. But even more astounding was the fact that, upon learning of my fondness for women’s wrestling, she decided to come out of retirement and wanted me to help manage her career!

Since then, I had watched her wrestle numerous times, and though the results of her matches weren’t always exhilarating, my feelings for her were. I had grown attracted to her, and she to me, so as I glanced up and down her sheathed body, I couldn’t help but feel aroused. Lying on her back, her large chest jutted upward as her voluptuous body was squeezed into the spandex outfit. Though more than twice my age, I couldn’t deny my feelings for her, but promised myself not to act on them. Besides, right now she needed me to take care of her, and that was exactly what I intended to do.

I continued to watch her until eventually falling asleep. I awoke the next morning and glanced over at her, still asleep. I sat there for a few minutes, allowing myself to fully awaken, and she opened her eyes for a moment, smiling as she saw me, but then falling back to sleep. I knew she would be out cold for awhile longer, so I decided to prepare for when she awoke. I got dressed and went out to the store to pick up a few things. I knew that she would want to bathe, so I decided to get some bath salts and candles, trying to make the experience as pleasant as possible for her. I also picked up a bouquet of flowers to help her celebrate her victory. When I came back, she was still asleep, so I made her a cup of tea and placed it on the night table before taking a seat in the chair once again. She opened her eyes a few minutes later, and once again smiled.

“You stayed there all night, didn’t you?” her voice weak as she spoke in a slow drawl.

I shook my head to indicate that I hadn’t, but she was onto me.

“Yes you did. I woke up in the middle of night and saw you sleeping there ….. Thank you.” She whispered appreciatively. “You made me feel very protected.”

I smiled back at her before getting up and walking over to the bed, taking a seat beside her. I then reached for the cup of tea, handing it to her. Before grabbing it she tried to push herself, up, but could not do so. Her face cringed as she tried, and I felt terrible seeing her in such pain. I placed my arm behind her back and helped her get into an upright position. As I leaned against her, I could smell the pungent scent which emanated from her body, though it was surprisingly inoffensive. It was the smell of exertion, of all-out effort, and that was something to be proud of. But she quickly realized it as well, and turned red with embarrassment.

“Oh my God. I must really stink!” she proclaimed with great remorse. “I really need to take a bath!”

“Why don’t you have a cup of tea and I’ll go draw a bath for you.” I suggested.

Once again she smiled sweetly as I propped a few pillows behind her for support. As I leaned in to position them, she reached over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” she whispered.

I nodded and smiled before retreating into the bathroom. I placed some bath salts and ran a nice, hot bath for her, positioning candles around the room and setting the flowers near the tub. Once the tub was filled I turned off the water and walked back inside, once again sitting on the bed. She handed me the cup of tea, having only drank half of it, and asked me to help her up. I stood up as she slowly moved her legs off of the bed and onto the floor. I then helped her wrap her arm around my shoulder, gently lifting her onto her feet. She groaned in pain as she gingerly stood up, unable to get completely erect.

“I guess Lace really did a number on me.” she whispered.

“Maybe so, but you won the match!” I replied.

“Yeah …. I did …. Didn’t I?” she stated proudly.

I then helped her into the bathroom, each step a slow and tedious process. Finally we walked into the bathroom, her eyes lighting up as she saw the puff of bubbles in the tub, the candles and flowers.

“You are the sweetest man I’ve ever known!” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Enjoy your bath. Call me if you need anything.” I said before walking out of the room and leaving her to bathe.

She remained in the tub for over a half hour, and eventually emerged wearing the tee shirt and shorts I had left by the bed the night before. I then helped her over to the table where I placed an omelet and fresh cup of tea in front of her. She was very emotional as she took her seat, wiping a tear from her eye. We then began to talk about the match.

She talked about how hard Lace had fought, and how she seemed determined to punish her. But she also explained that she wasn’t surprised by that. She then explained how she had gotten weak as the match went on, perspiring much more heavily than normal.

“You know, the doctor told me that you were dehydrated and had a high temperature after the match. He said the reason was that your outfit didn’t allow your body to breathe. It held all of your body heat inside. I think that was part of the problem.” I explained.

“Maybe I should have worn an outfit like Lace’s!” she replied sarcastically, referring to Lace, sheer, sexy attire.

“Well, maybe there is a happy medium.” I answered.

“Maybe so …… Maybe you can help me pick out my outfit for the championship match.” she stated before blushing, embarrassed by the statement.

I nodded my head, happily agreeing to help. She finished her breakfast and a short while later I drove her home, getting her settled before I left. As I drove back home, I was saddened to see how much she was suffering. But my thoughts then shifted to the conversation I had once had with her husband. Running into him in a restaurant where he had just finished having a clandestine lunch with Elektra, he was surprised to see me and a bit uncomfortable that I had caught him with her. He knew that I had seen one of her matches; specifically her match against Flora; which was not dissimilar to her most recent match against Lace where Ms. Liberty took a tremendous beating but nonetheless emerged with a victory. After telling him how impressed I was with the courageousness she had shown in the ring, he had a quick reply.

“Yeah, she was impressive. But just so you know, even though she won the match, it was two days before she could even get out of bed.”

I thought about the instructions the doctor had given me just the night before about making sure that she stayed in bed for a few days, and realized that most of her matches seemed to have the same result. I then remembered what her husband told me next.

“She was a decent wrestler in her day, but she’s in her 50’s now and her body just can’t take that kind of abuse any more. She’s got to learn to use better judgment!”

Since that conversation, their marriage had deteriorated to the point where he eventually left. I couldn’t say for sure if her wrestling was the main reason for the split, but it certainly played a part. And though I had originally thought he was being unfair, I now knew exactly what he was talking about. Her body was taking a great deal of punishment, and at 54 years of age, it was not responding well to the punishment it was taking. But on the other hand, I knew how important wrestling was to her. We had talked about it before her match, and her reply to my question of why she decided to get back into wrestling resonated in my head.

“To be honest ....... it was partially because of you! You gave me the inspiration to step back into the ring which made me realize how much I really do LOVE TO WRESTLE! The challenge of pitting myself against another woman, the way I’m forced to push my body to it’s limits, the confidence that I now have in myself; and also having someone there with me who makes me feel special, who really enjoys watching me wrestle and maybe thinks I am at least a tiny bit special for doing it. I’ve never had any of those feelings before. To my husband it was a business and watching me wrestle was not something he derived any great pleasure from. But you really seem to enjoy watching me, and that reaction has meant so much to me.”

I felt a little guilty as I remembered her remarks, especially in light of her suffering. But wrestling also seemed to fill a void in her life and she was willing to deal with the physical pain in order to achieve that satisfaction. So despite my feelings of guilt, Ms. Liberty was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions, and who was I to stand in her way. But then my thoughts turned to her next opponent; Big Bad Bertha.

“You better take care of your grandma ‘cause if she thinks she hurtin’ now, just wait till you see what I’m gonna do to her! You better make sure you got a cemetery plot to bury her in kid.”

That was the warning Bertha had whispered to me after watching Ms. Liberty defeat Lace. And I knew that she was capable of carrying out that threat. She was a despicable woman, willing to not only do anything to win a match, but also hurt her opponent in the process. And Ms. Liberty seemed to be an especially appealing victim for her evil methods, and she would have her work cut out for her.

I checked in on Ms. Liberty a week later, and she was doing much better. Though still not 100%, she was much improved from the week before. I had not seen her for almost a month after that, but as the week of the championship match arrived, she gave me a call and invited me over for dinner. I readily accepted and found myself ringing her doorbell that night. She greeted me wearing a sleeveless, black cocktail dress looking both elegant and healthy. Her skin tone was back to its’ creamy white color and she even looked like she had lost a few pounds. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and I handed her some flowers and a bottle of wine before she let me in. I then immediately complimented on her how great she looked.

“WOW! You look great. I guess your back to normal. Have you lost some weight too?” I asked.

She blushed and thanked me for the compliment as we walked into the kitchen where I opened the wine and poured a glass for each of us. I sat down as she finished making dinner and we began to chat.

“Yeah, I’m back to 100%, even better! I’ve been dieting and working out and so far I’ve lost almost 10 pounds! And guess who I ran into in the gym?” she asked.

I was pleased to hear that she was doing so well but had no idea who she had met in the gym, so she proceeded to tell me.

“I had gone to work out, and when I got there, Lace and Barbara had just finished working out. Lace even asked me to help her train Barbara for her match!”

I was surprised to hear that, especially since the recent history between them had not been great. Ms. Liberty had originally been Barbara’s trainer when she first joined the wrestling federation but the two had a falling out, leading to a match, a match which Barbara won. And of course Lace and Ms. Liberty had just recently fought a rough match, so their relationship was also very strained. But nonetheless, Ms. Liberty seemed pleased with the outcome.

“It worked out pretty well. Barbara and I got along well and agreed to put our past differences aside. And she even won her match, so she’ll be wrestling for the Women’s Division Title against Flora on the same show as my championship match.” she concluded.

Flora was another woman with whom Ms. Liberty had some history. When Ms. Liberty was training Barbara, her protégé’s opponent was none other than Flora. Both Barbara and Flora were new to wrestling, but Flora proved to be too much for Barbara to handle, easily defeating Ms. Liberty’s student. Flora’s dirty tactics and arrogance enraged Ms. Liberty however, and the two had it out, both inside the ring and out. So there was no love lost between them either.

After we were caught up on the events of the past few weeks, she asked me to take a seat at the table and she served dinner. She had made a nice pasta dish for me, but surprisingly, she had only a small salad for herself. The meal was decent but cooking was obviously not her strong suit’. The company however was spectacular as we conversed easily, and I again found myself smitten by the older woman. As we finished eating, I cleaned the table for her and we sat down together.

She then thanked me again for taking care of her after her match against Lace, and paused, obviously wanting to ask me a question but apparently uncomfortable about it. I pressed her, and she finally came out with it.

“When we were in your apartment together the day after the match, I asked if you could maybe help me pick out my outfit for the championship match. So I was wondering ….”

I smiled, delighted at the opportunity to help decide on her outfit. She then escorted me up to her bedroom where she directed me to take a seat on the edge of her bed. She then proceeded to pull a large trunk out of her closet, opening it for me. It was filled with wrestling outfits, a collection she had amassed through the years. I began to look through it, but always anxious to hear her wrestling stories, asked her to give me the history of some of them. Delighted by me interest, she readily agreed. The first outfit she pulled out was a simple black leotard and pair of white tights.

“This was my first wrestling outfit. I wore it for my first several matches, long before I became Ms. Liberty.” she began. She then flipped through the trunk and pulled out a beat up pair of black wrestling boots. “And this is my first pair of wrestling boots. I started out wrestling barefoot, but in my third match, my opponent trapped me in a Boston Crab, and then started biting my foot! It hurt so much that I had to tap out. Right after that, I decided that I need to wear boots. So I picked these up at a second hand store for $10. But they were 2 sizes too big, so I had to stuff tissue paper in front so that they would fit!” she laughed.

I laughed right along with her, seeing the gleam in her eye as she reminisced. She then whisked through the chest some more, pulling out a red, white and blue two piece outfit.

“And this was the first outfit I wore as Ms. Liberty. My husband didn’t want me to wear a two piece outfit though, she next I got the blue bodysuit that I wore in the match against Lace.”

I listened intently, feeling the need to show my appreciation by giving her a compliment.

“And it still fits!” I exclaimed.

“Well …. Not quite as well as it used to. It’s a bit tighter these days.” She said self deprecatingly.

I smirked so she would know that I disagreed, but then found another outfit I recognized. It was another two piece outfit; red and white striped shorts with a blue top adorned with white stars. I reached in and pulled it out, asking if it was in fact the same outfit she had worn for her match against Domina, the first time I had seen her wrestle.

“Yes, that’s the same one. I got this one for my first championship match. That was probably 1975 or so. I loved this outfit, even though I lost that match.”

I then saw an outfit which surprised me. It was a white bikini, much skimpier than anything I imagined she would wear. I pointed at it, asking if it was hers. She blushed a bit, and nodded her head.

“Yeah, that is mine. I got that one about 20 years ago. I was offered the chance to wrestle in a private match for a very generous fee. My husband was away at the time, and I wanted to make some extra money for Christmas gifts, so I agreed. They insisted that I wear a bikini, so I went out and got that one.”

I was stunned, not realizing that she had done private matches, and not completely sure exactly what she meant by private matches either. From my experience, they could sometimes be very erotic, and I did not envision Ms. Liberty ever participating in those kinds of activities. I tried to press her for details, but she refused, saying that it was not something she was very proud of. I then saw the biggest surprise of all in the trunk, an incredibly skimpy Santa outfit consisting of a red velvet thong and skimpy top with white fur piping. I picked it up and looked at her, not saying a word. The expression on my face must have said it all however. Upon seeing it, she looked sad for a moment, as if the outfit had brought back a bad memory. But she nonetheless shook herself out of it and gave a brief explanation.

“That was for another private match, one that I’m not very proud of. It was against a woman named Kat who ran a private service.” She said softly, obviously troubled by the memory. I decided not to pry, and quickly tried to change the subject.

“I had no idea you did private matches. What other types of matches have you wrestled in?” I asked.

“Well ….. pretty much ….. you name it and I’ve done it. Most of my matches have been just regular pro style, but I’ve done cage matches, dog collar matches, no holds barred matches, oil wrestling ...... just about anything you can think of, I've done!” she exclaimed.

The depths of her fighting career were astounding to me. I had never imagined she had done any of those things, and was discovering a side of her I had never seen before. But although she was willing to admit the types of matches she had tried, she was less willing to go into any detail. So I turned my attention back to the trunk, finally offering a suggestion.

“You know, my favorite outfit was the one you wore the first time I watched you wrestle. The one over there.” I said, pointing to the red and white striped shorts and blue, starred top.

She glanced at it, but seemed reluctant to agree.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll wear the top, but I’m just not comfortable enough with my body yet to wear the shorts. I have a matching pair of tights though….” she said, digging into the trunk before pulling them out. “so how about this?”

I nodded my head, but then asked if she would be willing to try it on for me. Once again she seemed reluctant, but after asking a second time, she finally agreed.

“Okay ... okay. It’s a good thing I ate a salad for dinner though!” she laughed before grabbing the outfit and walking into the other room to change.

She came back a few minutes later, clad in the outfit as she stood before me with her hands on her hips. She looked a little self conscious, almost shy, but the way I was staring at her brought a smile to her face.

The top was blue spandex, with a line of white stars around the front. I wasn’t sure if she was aware, but there was a big white star directly over each of her large breasts. The top seemed to caress her large bosom as it protruded forward, sagging slightly, the neck scooped low to allow a generous amount fo cleavage to be shown. It was cinched tightly around the bottom of her bosom, adding depth, though she didn’t really need it to. The tights were a matching material with white stars running down the side of each of her legs. The waistband sat low on her hips, allowing a generous amount of skin on her torso to be on display.

It was obvious to me that she had been working hard on her figure, seeing her in the somewhat revealing outfit. Her tummy seemed slimmer and flatter, and though she was not thin, her body was nicely proportioned. As I stared up at her, I became aroused, and she could tell. She smiled shyly and I stood up, moving closer until I gently pressed my lips to hers. We kissed for a minute, our arms embracing each other. Finally I slowly pulled my mouth from hers and stared in her eyes for a moment. She was smiling and looked very content, though I decided that it was best for me to not go any further. I think she wanted it to, but I knew that it wasn’t the right thing to do. After an awkward pause, she seemed to pick up on that and flustered, hastily began to walk into the other room.

“I’d better go and get changed.” she said, closing the door behind her.

It was about 10 minutes before she re-emerged, and when she did, grabbed my hand and escorted me back into the dining room. She didn’t seem too upset, asking me if I wanted a cup of coffee. I suggested that we instead sit down on the sofa to finish the wine, this time grabbing her by the hand and walking her there. I handed her a glass of wine and moved in closer, still holding her hand as we looked into each other’s eyes.

“I’ve known you all my life Madeleine, but in this past year, I’ve learned so much about you that I never knew before. And to be very honest, I find myself very attracted to you. But you just separated from your husband, your son is one of my best friends, and .....”

I paused, debating whether to finish the sentence. But instead, she finished it for me.

“And I’m old enough to be your mother!” she exclaimed.

Though I did not want to admit it to her, that fact weighed heavily on my mind.

“That’s not it.” I replied, trying to be sincere. “It’s just that I am really enjoy spending time with you and want to get to know you even better. But I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship. I couldn’t look at you like this and honestly say that I don’t want this to go any further, but I think we both need some time to figure it all out. In the meantime though, I hope we can still enjoy each other’s company.”

She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek, stroking her hand against my face.

“You are just the sweetest man alive!” she exclaimed, a tear forming in her eye.

The two of us continued staring at each other, and I had to fight the impulse to kiss her, but then hastily decided to change the subject.

“So .... Big, Bad Bertha .... I wonder what she is doing now!” I exclaimed, trying to bring some levity to the situation.

She chuckled and the tension was broken as we sat back and talked about her strategy for the upcoming match. Meanwhile, Big, Bad Bertha’s night was in fact quite different. Sitting at the bar in a sleazy part of town, Bertha downed a glass of Scotch while dragging on a cigarette.

Upon becoming the Veteran’s Division Champion a couple of months earlier, Bertha had used her new title to increase her income potential from her own disreputable private wrestling business. She solicited new clients through ads in trashy magazines, setting up private fetish wrestling sessions with men.

As she sat at the bar, a wad of cash in front of her, she thought back on her most recent conquest. And older guy had paid for a private session, which she hosted in the room of a fleabag motel on the outskirts of town just a couple of hours earlier. After toying with him for a short while, she finally got him on the floor and sat on his face until he was rendered unconscious. She then took all of the cash from his wallet and escaped, leaving him there out cold. She then headed to her favorite watering hole, where she now sat, sucking down Scotch and cigarettes.

Spotting a horny looking older guy across the bar, she had the bartender send him a drink, and within a half hour, had him back in her trailer and in bed. The two had sex, and immediately after, Bertha kicked him out before passing out herself. Such was a typical night in the life of the Veteran’s Division Champion, and about as close to working out as she would ever come.

But then the night of the championship match arrived, and Bertha arrived at the arena about an hour before the match. She slogged into the locker room, finding Ms. Liberty already there, bending over to tie her wrestling boots. With a cigarette dangling from her mouth, Bertha trudged over to her, standing there as she took another drag. As Ms. Liberty looked up, Bertha blew the smoke in her face, Ms. Liberty whisking it away with her hand.

“So .... You ready to get your fat ass kicked grandma?” she asked in her deep, ornery voice.

Ms. Liberty stood up, the two now toe to toe as the classy brunette reached and grabbed the cigarette from Bertha’s fingers, tossing it to the floor before stepping on it.

“Well see Bertha!” she declared defiantly before turning and walking away.

Bertha smirked, reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out another cigarette before sitting down to get changed. The two women stayed on opposite ends of the dressing room until finally, Ms. Liberty was called for her introduction. She stood behind the door leading into the arena, fidgeting nervously as she listened to the intro.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to a night of Championship Women’s Wrestling! Our first match is for the Veteran’s Division Title, so let’s get right to it. Introducing first, the challenger and former Veteran’s Division Champion. She is 54 years of age, stands 5’7” tall and weighs in at 159 pounds …. Please welcome ….. MS. LIBERTY!”

Hearing her name, Ms. Liberty pushed the doors open and trotted down the aisle. As in her previous couple of matches, the fans were not very kind to her, showering her with boos which drowned out the sporadic cheers. I watched from my seat at ringside as she made her way forward, and saw a somewhat disappointed expression on her face from the fan’s reaction. But she nevertheless made her way up into the ring where she hopped in her corner, trying not to let the jeers bother her.

She looked great in her blue tights and top with white stars and a pair of red wrestling boots, her body much more fit than it had looked recently. She smiled down at me, and I returned the sentiment, giving her a thumbs up just as Bertha was presented to the crowd.

“And her opponent tonight is the current Veterans Division Champion. She is 57 years of age, stands 5’ 4” tall and weighs 170 pounds. Give it up for the champion ….. BIG BAD BERTHA!”

Much to my dismay, Bertha received a more generous ovation than Ms. Liberty had, the boos and cheers about even as the despicable woman strutted toward the ring. In her usual style, a cigarette hung from her lips as she strolled forward, a callous expression on her face. Climbing up into the ring, she made her way to the center before standing there for the fans view and pointing to the championship belt which was wrapped around her portly waist, her eyes squinted as the smoke from her cigarette wallowed up toward them. She then turned to face Ms. Liberty, showing off the belt to her as well, the classy brunette smirking back at her.

The announcer then left the ring and Bertha took her belt off, draping it over the turnbuckle in her corner. The ref got into position, but before the bell rang, Ms. Liberty walked forward and asked that he check her for any foreign objects. Summoning Bertha to the center of the ring, the ref reached forward to check her over, but Bertha, putting on a show, resisted. The roguish Bertha continued her exploits for a few more moments before finally she let the ref check her, a job he was not thrilled with. After giving her the all clear, Bertha then turned him and demanded that he do the same to Ms. Liberty. He then summoned her to the center of the ring and did the same, Bertha standing alongside them and chiding her opponent.

“She’s a fatty, so this could take awhile!” Bertha blurted out, bringing some chuckles from the crowd.

But Ms. Liberty ignored the taunting, getting the all clear from the ref before moving back to her corner and stretching her arms on the top rope. The bell then rang, and finally, the match was underway. I watched anxiously, having already discussed Ms. Liberty’s strategy with her. She was very focused on getting an early advantage, hoping to get Bertha in trouble quickly and then put her away fast. But she also knew that Bertha was dangerous, especially if she was in trouble, since she was a master at breaking the rules. So as Ms. Liberty circled the ring, she kept her eyes fixed on the cantankerous champ.

Tossing her cigarette out of the ring, Bertha moved much more slowly, though directly toward her opponent. Ms. Liberty noticed this and decided to charge her, rushing in as the two locked up. Their arms intertwined as Ms. Liberty easily overpowered her frumpy foe, forcing her back against the side ropes. She then released Bertha’s arm to grab her by the wrist and toss her across the ring, but Bertha quickly sent a backhand chop straight into Ms. Liberty’s throat.

With a loud gurgle, Ms. Liberty raised her hands to her ailing throat as Bertha abruptly grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around while pushing her back against the ropes, forcing her to exchange places. She then stepped back, bent forward and charged, ramming her shoulder into the brunette’s bare gut. Ms. Liberty folded over and groaned, Bertha keeping her shoulder wedged tightly against Ms. Liberty’s stomach as she reached forward and wrapped her arms around the back of Ms. Liberty’s thighs.

I watched from my seat at ringside, frustrated that Bertha had got the upper hand. I knew that Ms. Liberty wanted to take control early, but that was not to be the case. Instead, she found herself being pulled off of the ropes as Bertha stood up, yanking on Ms. Liberty’s thighs to send her upper body falling to the mat. Landing on the back of her shoulders, the brunette’s legs were now trapped against Bertha’s hips as she kept control of them with tight grip. Much to my dismay, Ms. Liberty’s shoulders were pressed to the canvas as the ref moved in, crouching down to check on them.

My heart sank as he slapped the mat once, and then a second time. I thought the match was about to end as the crowd surprisingly was cheering for the despicable champ, but Ms. Liberty thankfully reached up in desperation and grabbed hold of the bottom rope with her hand, prompting the ref to stop his count. Though I breathed a sigh of relief, my level of confidence in Ms. Liberty’s ability to win the match had begun to dwindle.

The ref barked at Bertha to break her hold since Ms. Liberty continued to clench onto the rope, but Bertha did not comply readily, instead rolling Ms. Liberty in half before stuffing the backs of her legs beneath the middle rope. With her legs rolled up toward her head and the back of her calves pressing up against the middle rope to hold her in place, Ms. Liberty was folded in half, the ropes trapping her in that position. As a result of the awkward predicament, Ms. Liberty’s spandex covered butt was elevated and facing directly in toward the ring in Bertha’s direction. The ref tried to push Bertha back in order to free her opponent, but she rushed in and gave a hard kick to Ms. Liberty’s rear end. The crowd snickered at the sight as the ref finally was able to push Bertha back as the crowd continued to cheer for her while chuckling at Ms. Liberty’s dilemma. With Bertha shoved back to the center of the ring, the ref walked back over and freed Ms. Liberty’s legs from the ropes, but just as he did, Bertha rushed in again, pushing him aside as she resumed her attack.

She grabbed a handful of Ms. Liberty’s short, black hair and yanked her onto her feet before trapping her in a side headlock, the brunette’s head wedged against her hip as she squeezed tightly around her neck. Doubled over again, Ms. Liberty flailed her arms at her sides as the ref tried to get a closer look, making sure that Bertha was not doing anything illegal. But Bertha yanked Ms. Liberty’s bent body to the side, blocking the ref’s view as she quickly embedded her fist into her victim’s eye socket and began gouge at it with her knuckles.

With her arms thrashing out to her sides, Ms. Liberty squealed loudly as the ref tried to reposition himself for a view. Bertha continued to drag Ms. Liberty’s bowed head out of his line of vision, again wedging her fist into Ms. Liberty’s eye, this time gouging the other one so that both of the brunette’s eyes were impaired. Helpless, Ms. Liberty’s screams grew louder, prompting the crowd to cheer even more. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing as the fans had clearly sided with the vile champion, cheering the illegal tactics she was using against Ms. Liberty.

Once again the ref moved in for a view, struggling to keep himself in front of the action, but Bertha raised her free hand as of the show that was not doing anything wrong, keeping the headlock tightly in place. She released the headlock while securing a grip on Ms. Liberty’s forearm with both hands before using the grip to flip Ms. Liberty onto her back by the arm.

Landing hard, the brunette quickly reached for her eyes as she lay on her back, her legs bent up at the knee. Bertha stormed over to her and began to send a series of vicious stomps down into the bleary-eyed Ms. Liberty’s bare, vulnerable belly. The ensuing, oddly rythmical, cadence was clearly audible; starting with Bertha's angry growls as she exterted all of her strength to deliver the maximum potency to each stomp, followed by the sound of the leather sole of her boot striking the skin on Ms. Liberty's paunch, and ending with the victim's moans of pain, growing steadily louder and more anguished with each stomp.

GGRRRR!

FWAP!

OOOHHH!

GGRRRR!

FWAP!

OOOOOHHHHH!

GGRRRR!

FWAP!

OOOOOOOHH!

GGRRRR!

FWAP!

OOOOOOOOOHHHH!

With her entire body quivering from the attack, Ms. Liberty finally rolled onto her side and tried to huddle her pounded body together. I looked up and saw how red the skin was around her eyes and how bloodshot they were, evidence of Bertha’s underhandedness. And I could also see how much pain she was in from the vicious belly attack. But there was nothing anyone could do about it now as Bertha was clearly in charge, marching up behind her and sending an angry kick into the small of Ms. Liberty’s back.

“AAAAWWWWW!” howled the anguished wrestler as her body recoiled, spreading apart before huddling back together.

I watched in despair, discouraged at what had taken place so far. Ms. Liberty was on the mat and in trouble while Bertha was just getting warmed up. She again reached down and grabbed two handfuls of Ms. Liberty’s hair, pulling her up before rolling her around. Now on her knees, Ms. Liberty tried to reach up and break Bertha’s grip on her hair, but the loathsome champ sent a vicious kick into Ms. Liberty’s gut, knocking her face down to the canvas once again.

The champ was having her way with Ms. Liberty now, and once again ripped her up by the hair, this time getting Ms. Liberty onto all fours. She then began to drag her forward by the hair, yanking on it viciously to force Ms. Liberty to crawl along behind her. Once again the crowd began to snicker as Bertha was literally walking Ms. Liberty around the ring like a dog. She continued to yank on her hair, Ms. Liberty forced to follow along as she tried desperately to break Bertha’s grip. But each time she reached up to attempt it, Bertha gave a mighty tug, forcing Ms. Liberty to crawl faster forward. Finally she released her grip on Ms. Liberty’s hair, but then lifted her leg and stomped down on the back of her victim’s head, sending her crashing face first to the mat once again.

Sprawled apart as she lay there, Ms. Liberty gallantly tried to get up onto all fours, but as she did, Bertha rushed over to the corner, grabbed her championship belt and raced back over, smacking its’ large medallion against Ms. Liberty’s spandex covered butt. The latest humiliation provoked the loudest laugh yet from the crowd, and I began to feel humiliated for my friend. To make matters worse, Bertha gave her another violent smack across the ass with the belt, the loud FWAP echoing through the arena as Ms. Liberty fell forward and looked overwhelmed already as Bertha seemed primed to put her away.

Pushing herself up and onto her knees and then gradually onto her hands as well, Ms. Liberty once again got onto all fours, a position which had proved disastrous for her so far. This time was no different as Bertha snatched two handfuls of her hair and again ripped her onto her feet. She forced Ms. Liberty back against the side ropes where I was able to get a good look at her.

Her eyes were badly bloodshot and tearing, the skin around them raw and red from Bertha’s gouges. Her stomach had a bright red patch from where Bertha had stomped on it, her back displayed an emerging bruise from where Bertha had kicked it and her hair was disheveled from all of the pulling it had been subjected to. But perhaps worst of all was the discouraged look on her face. I knew that she was disheartened at being unable to gain an early advantage, and the way the fans were treating her was certainly upsetting. She was also clearly in pain from the punishment she had taken so far, wincing as she was shoved roughly against the ropes. But looking up at her, I almost got the impression that, despite the courageousness she had shown me in past matches, Ms. Liberty might actually have resigned herself to her fate on this night. That theory was very upsetting to me since, despite seeing her in some very trying circumstances before, she had always fought till the end. But now, as the crowd cheered loudly for her demise, Ms. Liberty offered little resistance as she was whipped across the ring.

She lumbered across the ring, dipping into the ropes before being shot off of them. As she barreled back to the center of the ring however, Bertha was charging at her with arm extended, delivering a sadistic clothesline. The strike was devastating, nearly decapitating the patriotically clad veteran who plunged backward to the mat. Her shoulders crashed against it as her legs rolled up into the air before unfurling and dropping limply. The crowd gasped at the ferocity of the assault as Ms. Liberty’s arms fell out to her sides and her legs spread apart below her. She lay there, not moving other than the heaving of her large chest from her heavy breathing.

It was a heart wrenching sight as Ms. Liberty was plastered to the canvas with Bertha standing over her, gloating as the fans cheered. The champ seemed to delight in her opponent’s annihilation, strutting around her as Ms. Liberty lay motionless. I watched in horror, wondering if the vicious clothesline had perhaps broken her neck. She was not moving, the waistband of her tights now slung low to allow a clear view of her bare stomach as it slowly inflated as she breathed in and then collapsing as she breathed out. Bertha once again strolled over to the corner, grabbing her championship belt and holding it high overhead as she paraded around her unmoving victim who remained sprawled out and flat on her back. The champ's fans cruelly cheered Bertha's celebration as it continued for a short while longer before Bertha finally placed the belt back down in the corner, returning to Ms. Liberty's side before lifting her foot and planting it between Ms. Liberty’s heaving breasts. Dressed in her black, vinyl fetish outfit, Bertha stood triumphantly on her fallen foe while flexing her biceps to the delight of her fans, and though there was virtually no muscle on her arms, the pose was nonetheless triumphant. She had trounced Ms. Liberty and was now using the opportunity to further humiliate her. Speaking loud enough for the fans sitting near the ring to hear, she yelled down, taunting her flattened foe.

“You’re washed up grandma! You don’t belong in the ring, so why don'tcha just retire and go do some knitting or sumtin’!”

Once again several of Bertha’s fans chuckled at the suggestion as Ms. Liberty remained still with Bertha’s foot wedged down onto her chest. The ref moved in and checked Ms. Liberty’s shoulders, a rather silly endeavor before he began to slap the mat. Showing no attempt to halt the count, Ms. Liberty remained motionless until the count of 2, but then managed to lift her right shoulder just enough to stop the count.

Grumbling, Bertha lifted her foot off of Ms. Liberty’s chest and moved up toward her head, stepping down onto ms. Liberty's throat. I expected to see Ms. Liberty's body begin to thrash as Bertha pressed her weight down onto her throat, but she simply raised her hands in a feeble attempt to pry Bertha's foot of of hre while bending one leg at the knee. The ref warned Bertha to step off of the windpipe, but Bertha pressed down hard one more time before finally removing hre foot. She then spreading her arms and did a swan dive down onto Ms. Liberty's shoulders. Once again Ms. Liberty’s legs sprang up into the air as Bertha stretched her sweaty body across her downed adversary. The action had stopped for the past couple of mintues as Bertha celebrated, but during that time, Ms. Liberty barely flinched, leading me to beleive that she as finished. So as the ref ducked in and verified that Ms. Liberty’s shoulders were pinned, he once again began to count. I fully expected a quick three count, but as he slapped the mat once, the brunette was able to bend both knees up while planting her feet on the canvas. He slapped it a second time, but before he could execute the third, Ms. Liberty surprisingly summoned her remaining strength to thrust her hips upward, rolling Bertha off of her in the process.

The cheering crowd now began to boo, chiding Ms. Liberty to surrender. She remained on the mat, turning in my direction as if to look for some support. I pumped my fist, encouraging her to fight back, though in my heart I had almost hoped she would just allow Bertha to pin her. Remembering how badly she was hurt after her last match, I didn’t want to see her suffer any more. She had already endured a tremendous amount of punishment, and though she was trying to stay in the fight, I wasn’t sure if she was capable of doing so. Sure, Bertha was in dreadful physical condition; the least physically fit of all of the Veteran’s Division wrestlers; but she was also the most sadistic. And unless Ms. Liberty found a way to get back in the match, she was going to be in for an even more terrible beating.

Rolling onto her stomach, Bertha slapped angrily at the mat, enraged that Ms. Liberty would not accept defeat. She then quickly got to her knees and crawled alongside her downed opponent, issuing a stern warning.

“You remember what I did to your friend The Babe? Well that ain’t nuthin’ compared to what I’m gonna do to you!” she growled with her deep, gravely voice.

Bertha’s match against The Babe was the main reason why THIS match was even taking place. Bertha pummeled Ms. Liberty’s friend so badly that she was hospitalized for several days afterward. As a result, Ms. Liberty vowed revenge and sought the match against Bertha. But I wondered if she regretted that decision as Bertha violently grabbed her by the hair and began to rip her upright.

Hauled onto her feet, Ms. Liberty was then tossed back into the corner, Bertha rushing up in front of her. She then lifted her leg, planting her foot into Ms. Liberty’s tummy while reaching forward to grab hold of her head. But before she could, Ms. Liberty ducked forward, wrapping her arms around Bertha’s elevated leg and then pushing herself forward. As a result, the two women toppled to the mat, each rolling over the other once before Bertha found herself on her back with Ms. Liberty on top.

I began to cheer, one of the few in the crowd whom did so, as Ms. Liberty was stretched across Bertha. But the angry champ was able to roll over, swapping positions as Ms. Liberty once again found herself on her back. They continued to roll over each other a couple more times before finally tumbling near the ropes with Ms. Liberty on top. While on her back, Bertha nonetheless wrapped her arm around Ms. Liberty’s head, placing her in a headlock. But the brunette retaliated by reaching down and grabbing hold of Bertha’s thigh, pulling on it to force her leg upward.

As the two struggled, the ref stood close by, checking Bertha’s shoulders to see if they were pinned. Ms. Liberty was able to pry her head free from Bertha’s grip, the sweat from each of them supplying the necessary lubrication to do so. She then was able to sit up on Bertha’s belly while grabbing her other leg and rolling them both upward. The ref again looked down, noticing both of Bertha’s shoulders pinned. He slapped the mat once, before he could slap a second time, Bertha reached for and grabbed the bottom rope, prompting him to end the count.

Keeping hold of the rope, Bertha yelled at him to break the action, which he did. He instructed Ms. Liberty to get off of her, and she reluctantly did so, rolling to the side before getting to her knees. But just a second later and before the ref gave the okay to resume the action, Bertha used the rope to pull herself up into a seated position and quickly locked a choke hold onto her still kneeling opponent. The ref warned Bertha to break it, but before she did, she rained a series of punches down onto Ms. Liberty’s head, instigating a cheer from the previously quiet crowd.

The ref warned Bertha again and began to count, prompting her to relinquish the attack and break the choke. But the damage had been done already as Ms. Liberty was left reeling from the assault, still on her knees but teetering. Bertha used the ropes as leverage to get to her feet, trudging over to the dazed Ms. Liberty and locking her in a front headlock before using the hold to hoist her onto her feet. Hunched over and facing Bertha with her head wedged beneath the champ’s arm, Ms. Liberty was then met with a forearm smash to her bare lower back, knocking her to one knee. Releasing the headlock, Bertha then moved in to grab hold of Ms. Liberty’s head once again, but this time the challenger fired a weak punch into her soft gut.

With a soft grunt, Bertha staggered back a step, but then moved in, reaching to grab Ms. Liberty by the hair. The champ was getting tired, as evidenced by her heavy breathing and slowed movements, so Ms. Liberty was able to reach forward, wrapping her arms around Bertha’s hips as the champ reached for her. But Bertha once again fired a punch down into the top of Ms. Liberty’s head, striking it with great force.

The blow left the challenger dazed even further and her arms dropped to her sides, freeing Bertha from her grasp. Bertha then grabbed her by the hair and ripped her onto her feet, the top of Ms. Liberty’s head now numb. She once again forced the red, white and blue clad wrestler into the corner, Ms. Liberty’s body slumping back against the turnbuckle. I could see that she was desperately trying to get back in the fight, but Bertha seemed to find a way to thwart her attempts each time.

Finally Bertha, who stopped to catch her breath, hacking out a loud cough before moving in again and securing a grip on Ms. Liberty’s forearm. She yanked her out of the corner and tried to whip her across the ring, but Ms. Liberty managed to reverse the attempt, sending Bertha slogging across the ring instead. Hitting the corner with her back, Bertha’s flabby body jiggled as Ms. Liberty schlepped across the ring after her. Both women were clearly exhausted, though Ms. Liberty was the one showing the effects much more so than the champ.

But as she reached the corner, she pressed her hands sown onto Bertha’s arms, which were spread out on the top rope on either side of her body, then lifted a knee into the rolls of flesh on Bertha’s midsection. Slumping forward, Ms. Liberty wrapped her arm around the champ’s bowed head, trapping her in a front headlock as the crowd let her have it, booing the extraordinary comeback of the battered challenger. I watched as Ms. Liberty pulled Bertha out of the corner, walking her slowly toward the center of the ring. She seemed to be in no rush, using the opportunity to keep the champ locked up while allowing herself some time to clear her head.

She looked out into the crowd, seeing the fans on their feet and booing her, and I knew that the reaction was hard for her to take. Though she never really looked to the crowd for motivation, it was nonetheless disheartening that so many fans had turned against her. But she nonetheless continued on, keeping Bertha in the hold for several more moments before finally lifting her knee as quickly as she could and ramming it into the champ’s face.

The blow sent the champ shooting backward before falling to the mat, covering her face with her hands as she rolled on her back. The boos became even more adamant as Ms. Liberty paused, placing her hands on her knees to take a rest. With the taunts of the crowd still loud and clear, she turned to me while still bent over and breathing deeply. I smiled back at her, giving her a thumbs up and trying to encourage her to keep going. She sent a half smile back before reaching down and grabbing hold of Bertha’s ankle, using it to pull her leg up into the air.

Moving slowly and tediously, Ms. Liberty then stepped over Bertha’s elevated leg before wrapping it around her own and applying pressure. The step over toe hold had Bertha squirming on her back while Ms. Liberty twisted away at the limb, trying to further weaken the champ while also exerting as little of her own energy as possible. She kept the leg hold on for some time, occasionally easing up and then applying pressure once again. Finally, Ms. Liberty uncoiled her leg from Bertha’s and used her grip on the ankle to drag her across the ring and near the side of it.

Towed along the canvas, Bertha tried to wriggle free, growling angrily along the way. But Ms. Liberty would not let her go, reaching the side before finally dropping the leg. She then set herself between Bertha’s legs before dropping down, driving her knee into Bertha’s gut.

“UUHHHHHHHH!” screamed the beleaguered champ as she rolled to the side, her body dipping beneath the ropes.

Ms. Liberty remained on her knees just inches away, finally grabbing the middle ropes and using them to propel herself back onto her feet while Bertha suffered below her.

Once again Ms. Liberty reached down, grabbing Bertha by the wrist, but the champ grabbed hold of the bottom rope with her free hand, calling for the ref to stop the action.

Standing nearby, the ref did exactly that, directing Ms. Liberty to back away. She followed his instructions, taking a few steps back as Bertha used the ropes to slowly push herself up. As she got to her feet, the ref signaled for the action to resume, Ms. Liberty graciously waiting for his okay to do so before moving back in. But her sportsmanship proved fatal as Bertha met her with a chop to throat as she approached. Gagging, Ms. Liberty stumbled backward as Bertha grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around and shoved her back against the ropes, repeating the exact same maneuver she had used to start the match.

With the crowd once again cheering, Bertha moved in, pressing her sweaty body up against Ms. Liberty while wrapping her hands around the milky white skin on her throat. The ref quickly ordered Bertha to break the champ, so she released the choke, but then thrust the palm of her hand up into the bottom of Ms. Liberty’s chin, jarring her head backward and forcing her body to arch back over the top rope.

The ref checked the hold, confirming that was not in fact a choke and therefore not ordering Bertha to break it. But Ms. Liberty was now forced to bend backward, her head jerked and body jerked painfully backward. With a scooped neck on her spandex top, a generous amount of Ms. Liberty’s cleavage was on display, even more so in the position she was now forced to take. She tried to grunt, but the pressure on the bottom of her jaw as so great that all she could manage was a spew of saliva which shot up into the air.

Satisfied that she was torturing her opponent, Bertha then raised her free hand and sent a forceful forearm smash down into Ms. Liberty’s breastplate, jarring it and causing her large chest to jostle wildly. Folding forward, Ms. Liberty clutched at her aching throat while dropping to one knee, Bertha raising both arms overhead and slamming them down into the back of Ms. Liberty’s head, knocking her to the canvas once again.

I felt my heart sink as Ms. Liberty’s short lived comeback had been halted, and once again she was knocked to the floor. Bertha then reached down and grabbed her by the ankles, dragging her body along on her stomach to the center of the ring. With her arms dragging along behind her, the challenger found herself being put into position by Bertha, who once again bent it painfully, this time into a Boston Crab.

The screams of pain were heart wrenching as Ms. Liberty’s spine was curled dangerously. Bertha set herself on top of the challenger, securing her grip on Ms. Liberty’s thighs as she folded her body back as far as she could. Already in a bad state, I knew that this would be the end. Bertha would not release the hold until Ms. Liberty quit, and I knew that she wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer. So with the fans screaming their approval, and Ms. Liberty screaming in pain, the ref moved in and asked her if she was ready to quit.

I wasn’t surprised that her initial response was an anguished but resilient “NO!”, but as Bertha kept her locked in the excruciating hold, it was just a matter of time. Once again the ref asked her if she submitted, this time Ms. Liberty not answering right away, and when she did, her response was much less defiant.

“NN ..Oo..oo..oo”

Bertha jerked her legs even harder, drawing a yelp from the challenger as the champ seemed annoyed that she would not give in.

“GIVE UP YOU FAT COW OR I’LL BREAK YOU’RE DAMNED BACK!”

She gave yet another cruel tug after issuing the threat, but still Ms. Liberty would not relent. The test of wills continued for almost a minute longer, and I wanted to shout out for her to quit before she was left permanently injured. Finally however, Bertha seemed to tire of the struggle and released Ms. Liberty’s legs which shot backward as if fired out of a cannon. She writhed on the mat, her body twitching from the pain she was in. But the champ gave her little time to recover, quickly snatching her by the hair and yanking her onto her feet. She then pushed her back into the corner before cupping Ms. Liberty’s face in her hands, moving closer to issue yet another threat. Since they were directly above me, I was able to hear the chilling warning.

“I gave you the chance to quit, you stubborn pig. So now I’m gonna finish ya off for good!”

Surprisingly however, Ms. Liberty lifted her knee into Bertha’s gut, knocking the wind out of her as she doubled over while moaning loudly. Still pressed into the corner, Ms. Liberty tried to push herself out of it, but her back hurt so badly that she could not find the strength. Instead Bertha slowly stood erect, once again grabbing her by the cheeks, but this time looking her straight in the eye before spitting in her face.

“You’re gonna regret that bitch!”

The champ was obviously furious, and in Ms. Liberty’s weakened condition, I was honestly fearful of her safety. I had not expected the match to reach this point, especially since Ms. Liberty seemed to be in such great shape and Bertha was her usual chubby self. But Ms. Liberty was in serious trouble, and as I sat at ringside, I debated whether or not I should try to intervene to save her from serious injury.

But with the glob of Bertha’s saliva running down her cheek, I saw Ms. Liberty’s expression change. There was suddenly a fire in her eyes and an angry expression on her face that I had never seen before. She suddenly jarred her head forward, striking the top of her forehead into Bertha’s nose with great force. The blow started a trickle of blood to flow from Bertha’s snout, but Ms. Liberty then reached forward and raked her fingers across Bertha’s eyes, shocking me that she had been infuriated to the point.

Bertha stumbled backward, holding her hands to her eyes as she wandered blindly, screaming in pain as the blood from her nose began to flow onto her hands. Ms. Liberty was a different person, and though she could not move quickly, nevertheless found the strength to arduously push herself out of the corner and stalk her blinded foe. She hobbled over to her and grabbed her in a headlock, yanking the blinded champion over to the corner where she yanked her head forward, through the turnbuckles before ramming the top of it into the post in the corner with a loud CLANK.

Bertha fell backward, landing on her butt as she sat there with a confused expression on her face, blood still dripping from her nose. Ms. Liberty then kicked her down onto her back and dove down on top of her, pinning her shoulders to the mat. The crowd was stunned, not sue how to react to the violent outburst. The ref too seemed amazed, but then dove down, checking Bertha’s shoulders before slapping out a three count. Ms. Liberty had done it! She had taken the best Bertha had to give, and still emerged victorious. I looked up at her, watching with amazement as she struggled to her feet while the bell rang. I studied her face, seeing the anger slowly fade, gradually replaced by a look of relief. Her arm was then raised as the announcer climbed into the ring and made it official.

“The winner of the match in a stunning victory …. And new Veteran’s Division Champion ..... MS. LIBERTY!”

Some of the fans who had been booing now cheered for the outcome, others continued to boo, though the majority sat quietly, still bewildered by the unusual turn of events. I too was stunned, but cheered for the new champion, once again flabbergasted by her.

Bertha meanwhile remained on the canvas, too befuddled to get up as the attendants rushed over to stop the bleeding from her nose. The belt was then fitted around Ms. Liberty’s waist, and for the first time, a slight smile appeared on her lips. She was once again the champion, though the price she paid for that victory was a high one. I waited for her to come down to ringside before giving her a hug to congratulate her before escorting her back to the locker room. As we reached it, I suggested that she see the doctor to check her out, but she assured me that she was okay.

“Let’s just get out of here, okay?” she asked sweetly. “Let me go get my stuff and then I just want to go home.”

I nodded, not wanting to question her any further. It took about 10 minutes, but then she emerged, still wearing her wrestling outfit but with a trench coat wrapped around her. Before she walked out however, Flora walked over to her, the two exchanging angry words before Ms. Liberty turned and walked away.

“What did she have to say?” I asked.

Ms. Liberty draped her arm around my shoulder and we began to make our way to the exit.

“Don’t worry about her.” She replied, her voice weaker than it had been before the match.

“I’m going to take you back to my place for tonight, just to keep an eye on you and make sure that you are okay.” I said.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” She replied, trying to reassure me.

“I know you’re fine, but I'm still going to take you home with me to make sure that you are okay. Besides, it’s kind of nice having you spend the night anyway! So let's go home ..... champ!” I concluded, Ms. Liberty smiling as we walked out of the arena together.

THE END

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