UCC (UMMA) Managers & Fans Forum

Audrey Whitby vs Becky G



Weigh-In

The room is already vibrating with noise before either fighter even appears, fans from both sides chanting over one another as camera shutters fire nonstop. Audrey Whitby emerges first—calm, cold, composed—rolling her shoulders as she steps onto the scale. She measures in at 5'5" and weighs 114 pounds and looks absolutely stunning. After flexing for her supporters, she turns her gaze toward the entrance, eyes sharp and expectant.
Becky Gomez marches out moments later, unimpressed and unflinching. Her jaw is tight, her expression fierce, and she radiates pure attitude. She weighs in at 106 pounds and stands 5'1", clearly giving up size, but she poses confidently for her fans before pointing at Audrey and firing off a string of Spanish-laced venom without hesitation.

The promoter calls them together for the face-off, and for a charged moment they simply stare—just inches apart—breathing hard, eyes narrowed, neither willing to blink. The tension spreads across the stage like gasoline waiting for a spark.

Becky lights it. She steps forward with a deliberate chest-to-chest bump, trying to bulldoze Audrey backward. Audrey doesn’t move an inch. Instead, she leans in even closer and bumps Becky right back—harder—her own statement ringing just as loud as the crowd’s explosive roar behind them.

Becky smirks, chin lifted. “Try that again, chica and I will punch your light out.”

Audrey doesn’t hesitate—she steps in and drives her chest forward, forcing Becky a half-step back. Becky immediately squares up, refusing to give an inch, eyes blazing. Audrey fires a sudden slap.

“Hit me! Come on you pequeña zorra!. You think you can hang with me?”

That’s all it takes as they lung at each other. They explode into a brawl, fists cutting through the air past startled officials. Hair snaps, elbows clash, and Becky sneaks a tight hook through Audrey’s guard. Audrey answers with a wild overhand that glances off Becky’s jaw swiveling  her head to the side. Security swarms the stage, but the fighters are beyond control, crashing into the backdrop and ripping part of it down as the entire venue erupts into chaos around them.

Becky tries to twist free, but Audrey scrambles on top of her, fueled by pure rage and adrenaline. Security lunges in too late — Audrey is already hammering down right hands, each one cracking against Becky’s head with heavy, echoing thuds.

Becky’s head snaps left — THUD. Snaps right — THUD.

Audrey **** back one more time and fires a perfectly timed right cross straight down the center. It crashes into Becky’s jaw with a brutal, explosive impact. Becky’s eyes roll back instantly. Her body goes twitches then goes slack. She’s out cold. Audrey just knocked Becky out cold!

The crowd gasps as officials finally manage to grab Audrey by the shoulders and drag her off, even as she keeps swinging at the air, wanting more. The moment they yank her backward, Audrey suddenly doubles over, clutching her right wrist. Her face tightens in pain — the joint is already swelling, the skin darkening as the adrenaline wears off. But Becky doesn’t see any of it. She’s still flat on the stage, motionless, knocked completely unconscious by Audrey’s final punch.

“DAMMIT—” she hisses, shaking her hand, but she can’t even curl her fingers. It’s obvious: she may have broken her wrist during the barrage.

Meanwhile, Becky is a wreck. She’s flat on her back, blood pouring from her nose, which now bends at an ugly angle. Her right eye is swelling shut fast — within seconds it’s ballooning, purple and grotesque. Trainers kneel around her, pressing towels to her face as she groans and tries to sit up, dazed, barely able to see. The weigh-in stage looks like a war zone. Doctors quickly rush in from both sides. One checks Audrey’s wrist, another Becky’s pummeled face. Neither fighter can stand without help. Neither can stop shaking.

And the brutal reality hits the promoters as they meet in a chaotic huddle. Neither Audrey Whitby nor Becky Gomez will be stepping into the cage tomorrow night—not with Audrey’s wrist likely fractured and already ballooning with purple bruising, and not with Becky’s nose broken clean across the bridge, one eye already swollen nearly shut. The backstage chaos has left both women in no condition to fight, their bodies marked by the consequences of a weigh-in brawl that spiraled completely out of control.

Kylie Jenner wheels around the moment she spots Katharine McPhee smirking across the chaos, and she storms toward her with fury in every stride. The room is still buzzing—security hauling Becky’s bloodied body toward the medics while Audrey nurses her grotesquely swollen wrist. Kylie’s voice cuts through the noise like a blade. “What the hell, McPhee? Control your animal!” she snaps, jabbing a finger at Becky, whose broken nose is dripping a trail of red across the floor.

Katharine doesn’t flinch. She steps forward, chin lifted, eyes sharp. “Me?” she fires back. “You’re the one whose fighters are out of control.” The tension spikes instantly, people nearby bracing instinctively as if expecting another explosion.

Without a flicker of hesitation, Katharine suddenly plants both hands on Kylie’s shoulders and shoves her back hard, the force jolting Kylie a half-step. The crowd gasps, and Kylie responds immediately—she surges forward and shoves Katherine back even harder, sending her stumbling.

“Look what she did!” Kylie shouts, thrusting her hand toward the sight of Audrey, pale and trembling as she clutches her wrist. “Now neither of them can fight tomorrow! I knew this was a horrible idea!” Her voice shakes with rage, frustration, and the realization that the entire event is falling apart in front of her.

Katharine steadies herself, eyes narrowing, ready to fire back—while the room teeters on the edge of yet another full-blown brawl. She crosses her arms firmly under her chest, chin lifted with infuriating confidence. “Maybe Becky should’ve kept her big mouth shut. I can’t control my fighters when your fighters start something.”

Kylie doesn’t flinch. She steps in with a smug tilt of her head. “Maybe that’s because your girls are getting their asses kicked. Lauren and Chandler embarrassed themselves, and the rest of your team is next. Becky was a three to one favorite so you told your little cheat to take her out before the fight. Becky would have wiped the floor with your girl.”

“I think everyone just saw how tough Audrey is,” Katharine snaps. “you shouldn't worry, there are plenty of fights left, and the rest of my girls will be ready.”

Kylie closes the space between them until they’re chest-to-chest, neither woman backing down. “Well Audrey really messed up. Now we’re short a fight.”

Kylie exhales sharply, barely containing her anger. Katharine only smirks, leaning in as if savoring the tension. “Maybe we give Laura Marano another shot at that cheat, Dove.”

Kylie actually laughs—short, cold, and cutting. “Get real, McPhee. You know as well as I do Laura is finished. Dove beat her fair and square, and she has to live with that loss forever. She knew the consequences when she stepped into the cage with Dove. Nobody’s questioning the result. Dove won. Laura lost.”

“Whatever. Everyone knows Laura is the better fighter,” Katharine says with a dismissive shrug. “What about Ashley Benson and Madison Beer? I know Madison’s itching to get back in the ring with her.”

Kylie’s expression hardens instantly. “Madison is not fighting Ashley. She’s lost three times. I’m not putting her in the ring with Benson again. We all know exactly how that ends.”

That’s when Katharine steps in and jabs Kylie in the chest with one sharp, deliberate finger.

“Then how about you and me? Think you’re woman enough to take me on again?”

The hallway falls silent. Trainers stop moving. Officials freeze mid-step. For a moment, no one breathes as Kylie slowly lifts her chin, eyes burning with cold fury.

Kylie looks down at the finger pressed into her chest… then raises her gaze to meet McPhee’s. The look she gives her is pure, simmering danger. She takes one slow, decisive step forward, bumping her chest into Katharine’s—hard enough to make the point unmistakable.

“You want me?” Kylie says, her voice low and lethal. “You want me in that ring so bad?”
 
Katharine doesn’t retreat an inch. “I want you exposed,” she fires back. “Your girls can’t win, and you know it. So let’s see if their little ‘boss lady’ can do any better.”

Kylie’s smirk spreads slowly across her face, a predator’s smile—taunting, fearless, dripping confidence.

“Oh, don’t worry, McPhee… I can do a lot better.”

Katharine arches an eyebrow, amused and hungry for blood. “Then say it. Say you’ll fight me.”

Kylie closes the remaining inches between them until their foreheads nearly touch, breath mingling, tension crackling like live wire. “You want a fight?” she whispers, voice soft but venomous. “I’ll give you a fight you’ll remember for the rest of your life. I’ll humiliate you. I’ll finish you. And when it’s over, you won’t even dare look in a mirror.”

Katharine’s jaw tightens, nostrils flaring as adrenaline floods through her. “Main event?”

Kylie grins with the cold certainty of someone who knows exactly what she’s capable of.
“You’re on. You and me—Main. Event.”

Katharine laughs, low and dangerous. “You’re insane, Jenner. I’m going to break you in half again. This time you won’t get back up.”

Kylie leans in even closer, eyes burning, voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “No, Katharine… you’ll try.”

The hallway explodes into chaos as security storms in from both sides, grabbing the women by the arms. Kylie and Katharine lunge at each other anyway, shouting threats, straining against the guards, heels scraping across the floor as they fight to get one more inch of contact. Trainers yell. Cameras flash. A crowd gathers. And over the noise—over the chaos—two voices rise, aimed directly at each other.

Katharine: “You have a short memory. I’ve already beat you twice. The third time I'm ending your career!”

Kylie: “I’m ending you!”

Security drags them away in opposite directions, both still fighting against the restraint, both still screaming, both knowing one thing with absolute certainty:

The Main Event is set… Katharine McPhee vs Kylie Jenner

Written by the Badass Barbies

Lauren Donzis - Awesome Aries

5'3" - 110 lbs - 21 years



VS

Dove Cameron - Badass Barbies

5'2" - 110 lbs -  29 years



Weigh-In

The tension is thick as the scale is set in the center of the arena. Lauren Donzis steps up first, her gaze locked on Dove across the room. She hits 110 pounds, lean and compact, shoulders squared, exuding confidence. Her trainer whispers something in her ear, and she smirks, clearly ready to battle.

Dove Cameron follows, stepping lightly onto the scale. She clocks in at 114 pounds, slightly heavier but with the look of someone who’s trained relentlessly for endurance and speed. Dove stares down Lauren as the announcer calls out the weight, her jaw tight, fists clenched. The two exchange a brief, icy stare—no words, just intensity. The crowd senses a brewing rivalry.

The referee checks gloves and attire, and the fighters step back, faces set in concentration. This is not going to be a friendly match; both fighters are professionals and determined to assert dominance.

Walkout

 Lauren’s music hits first—aggressive, hard-hitting. She walks to the ring with measured steps, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. Her black and gold robe flutters slightly, and she raises a gloved fist to the crowd, a mix of confidence and defiance in her eyes. She’s ready to control the fight from the first bell.

Dove enters to a high-energy track, her peach-colored robe gleaming under the lights. She moves with a combination of grace and intensity, fists raised, eyes locked on Lauren. There’s a tension in the air, the kind that makes the crowd murmur; these two are not friends, and the fight is personal before it even starts.

Both fighters reach the ring, stepping onto the canvas. Lauren gives a slight nod, Dove raises a fist in acknowledgment—and the energy is electric.

Pre-Fight Odds

Lauren Donzis: +110 (slightly the underdog)

Dove Cameron: -130 (favored due to better cardio and speed, though slightly less powerful)

Oddsmakers note that Dove’s speed, pressure, and combinations give her an edge, but Lauren’s power, hooks, and head movement could turn the tide with the right opportunity. This matchup could be a back-and-forth war, with the potential for knockdowns depending on who capitalizes on openings.

Round 1

The bell rings and Dove comes out aggressively, snapping out a series of quick jabs to test Lauren’s defense. Lauren responds cautiously, weaving and circling to avoid Dove’s rapid combinations, looking for an opening.

Dove presses forward with relentless pressure, landing a flurry to Lauren’s head and shoulders, forcing Lauren to clinch briefly against the ropes. Lauren fires back with a solid hook to Dove’s ribs, then pivots and lands a short uppercut that catches Dove off guard.

Mid-round, Dove continues moving forward, her speed allowing her to slip past Lauren’s counters and land a clean cross to the jaw. Lauren staggers slightly but answers with a looping hook to Dove’s side, then follows up with a quick combination to the body. The crowd cheers, sensing the intensity between the two fighters.

In the final minute, both fighters exchange rapid-fire punches in the center of the ring. Dove lands a flurry, but Lauren’s head movement and footwork let her avoid the worst of it, and she counters with a crisp hook-cross combination that connects cleanly. The bell rings, and both fighters retreat to their corners, breathing heavily but clearly eager for more.

Round Score:

Dove Cameron: 10
Lauren Donzis: 9

Fight Total After Round 1:

Dove Cameron: 10
Lauren Donzis: 9

Round 2

The bell sounds and both fighters come out cautiously, circling in the center of the ring. Dove moves forward, snapping out quick jabs and testing Lauren’s defense, but Lauren reads the rhythm and lands a clean hook to Dove’s ribs, making her take a step back.

Dove presses again, throwing combinations to the head and body, but Lauren slips under a cross and counters with a crisp uppercut that snaps Dove’s head back. The crowd roars as Lauren keeps her balance, her footwork helping her avoid the heavier punches while landing precise shots in return.

Midway through the round, Dove lands a sharp overhand right that grazes Lauren’s jaw, followed by a jab-cross combination. Lauren absorbs most of it and responds with a looping left hook that connects to Dove’s ribs, slowing her pace briefly. Both fighters exchange a series of rapid punches, neither giving ground.

In the final 30 seconds, Dove begins to push harder, flurrying to the head with rapid jabs, but Lauren’s counters are sharp—a right hook followed by a body shot rocks Dove momentarily. Dove shakes it off, landing a quick combination before the bell, but Lauren’s precise punches leave a visible mark.

Round Score:

Dove Cameron: 10
Lauren Donzis: 9
Fight Total After Round 2:


Dove Cameron: 20
Lauren Donzis: 18
 
Round 3

The fighters return to the center of the ring, both looking more determined. Dove comes out fast, snapping a jab-cross combination to test Lauren’s guard. Lauren slips a couple of shots and counters with a short hook to Dove’s ribs, causing her to flinch.

Dove presses forward, keeping a steady pace, landing a flurry to Lauren’s head. Lauren weaves under a hook and fires a quick uppercut, catching Dove as she steps in. The two exchange several rapid punches in the pocket, neither able to establish dominance. Dove lands a clean overhand right, but Lauren responds immediately with a looping left hook and a quick right to the midsection.

Midway through the round, Dove increases her volume, moving aggressively, landing multiple jabs and a cross that snaps Lauren’s head back. Lauren absorbs the shots, using footwork and body movement to avoid the worst, then counters with a hook-cross combination that lands flush to Dove’s ribs. The crowd cheers, sensing the fight is evenly matched but intense.

In the final 45 seconds, Dove lands a flurry of quick punches to the head, but Lauren ducks and weaves, then lands a strong uppercut followed by a quick combination to Dove’s body. The bell rings with both fighters breathing hard, circling each other as they retreat to their corners, aware the next round could be decisive.

Round Score:

Dove Cameron: 10
Lauren Donzis: 9

Fight Total After Round 3:

Dove Cameron: 30
Lauren Donzis: 27
 
Round 4

The bell rings and Lauren comes out with more fire, circling aggressively and landing a crisp jab to Dove’s face. Dove tries to respond with a flurry, but Lauren slips under the punches and counters with a looping hook to the ribs that makes Dove step back.

Lauren keeps the pressure on, throwing combinations to the body and head, forcing Dove to clinch briefly in the center of the ring. When they separate, Lauren lands a sharp uppercut that rocks Dove’s head, followed by a quick hook-cross combo that snaps Dove backward.

Midway through the round, Dove manages a flurry of quick jabs, but Lauren’s timing allows her to slip under the punches and land a heavy hook to Dove’s jaw. The crowd senses a shift as Lauren lands another right to the ribs, then a short uppercut that makes Dove flinch.

In the final minute, both fighters exchange rapid-fire punches. Dove fires back with combinations, but Lauren weaves and counters cleanly, connecting with several hard shots to the midsection and head. The bell rings with both fighters breathing heavily, but Lauren’s punches seem to have made the bigger impact, leaving Dove slightly off balance as they return to their corners.

Round Score:

Lauren Donzis: 10
Dove Cameron: 9

Fight Total After Round 4:

Dove Cameron: 39
Lauren Donzis: 37

Round 5

The bell rings and Dove comes out quickly, snapping a series of jabs and combinations to test Lauren’s defense. Lauren stays low and moves with calculated footwork, slipping a couple of punches before countering with a hard hook to Dove’s ribs. Dove absorbs it but steps back, keeping her guard high.

Lauren presses forward now, mixing hooks and uppercuts, trying to land heavier, damaging shots. Dove pivots and uses her speed to fire back with flurries to the head and body, landing several clean punches that keep Lauren from fully settling into her rhythm.

Midway through the round, Dove lands a sharp cross followed by a short uppercut that catches Lauren as she steps in. Lauren absorbs the impact, fires a quick counter hook-cross to the midsection, and ducks under another jab, keeping herself in the fight. Both fighters exchange rapid-fire shots, the crowd on their feet as the pace quickens.

In the final 30 seconds, Dove starts snapping combinations in succession, landing several punches that push Lauren to the ropes. Lauren fires back with a looping hook and a solid uppercut, showing her durability, but Dove’s volume begins to dominate the exchanges. The bell rings with both fighters breathing heavily, sweat dripping, each aware the next round could be decisive.
 
Round Score:

Dove Cameron: 10
Lauren Donzis: 10

Fight Total After Round 5:

Dove Cameron: 49
Lauren Donzis: 47
 
Round 6

The bell rings and Lauren comes out swinging, determined to make a statement. She moves forward with sharp, calculated hooks and a heavy right cross, snapping Dove’s head back on the first exchange. Dove tries to respond with a rapid flurry, but Lauren ducks under a jab and lands a perfectly timed uppercut to the chin.

Dove staggers, her legs wobbling as Lauren closes the distance, landing a crisp hook-cross combination to the body and head. Dove swings wildly, trying to create space, but Lauren reads her movements perfectly and lands a clean overhand right that catches Dove flush. Dove goes down hard, hitting the canvas with a thud. The referee immediately starts the count.

Dove struggles to rise, shaking her head, but the impact of the knockdown leaves her momentarily stunned. Lauren steps back, giving her space while keeping a keen eye on her opponent, circling lightly and landing a few jabs to keep Dove wary.

At the count of eight, Dove manages to stand, wobbling slightly but still in the fight. Lauren presses just enough to remind her that she’s in trouble, landing a hook to the ribs before the bell rings. The round ends with Dove visibly shaken, her breathing heavy, and Lauren looking composed but ready to continue the assault.

Round Score:

Lauren Donzis: 10 (Knockdown)
Dove Cameron: 8

Fight Total After Round 6:

Dove Cameron: 57
Lauren Donzis: 57

Round 7

The bell rings and Dove comes out fast, immediately using her hand speed and combinations to snap jabs and crosses at Lauren. Lauren keeps her guard tight, slipping and weaving under several of the lighter punches while trying to counter with hooks to the ribs and quick uppercuts.

Dove presses forward, flurrying with quick jabs to the head, then follows with a short combination to the body. Lauren absorbs a few of the shots but uses her footwork to angle out and land a clean hook-cross combo that rocks Dove momentarily. Dove shakes it off, circling and snapping out an overhand right that grazes Lauren’s cheek.

Midway through the round, Dove lands a series of rapid jabs and a flurry that keeps Lauren on the defensive. Lauren counters with a heavy hook to the side and a looping uppercut, making Dove step back and reevaluate. The pace is frantic, both fighters exchanging punches at close range, neither able to establish a decisive edge.

In the final minute, Dove increases her volume, landing a combination to the head and body, but Lauren’s counters remain sharp, a hook-cross-uppercut sequence snapping back Dove’s head. The round ends with both fighters breathing heavily, sweat dripping, each aware that every punch could sway the momentum.

Round Score:

Dove Cameron: 10
Lauren Donzis: 9

Fight Total After Round 7:

Dove Cameron: 67
Lauren Donzis: 66

Round 8

The bell rings and both fighters move out cautiously, but Lauren wastes no time. She steps in aggressively, circling to Dove’s right and firing a stiff jab to the head. Dove tries to counter with a rapid combination, but Lauren ducks under the overhand right and lands a devastating left hook to Dove’s jaw, followed immediately by a crushing uppercut to the chin.

Dove stumbles backward, her legs folding under her, and hits the canvas hard. The referee immediately begins the count. Dove struggles to lift herself, shaking her head and trying to focus, but the impact has left her dazed. Lauren steps back slightly, watching carefully as Dove sways on her knees, barely able to hold her gloves up.

The crowd rises to its feet, sensing the danger. Dove manages to rise at the count of nine, her knees wobbling and balance precarious. Lauren moves in immediately, landing a short hook to the ribs and a clean cross that snaps Dove’s head back, forcing her to retreat toward the ropes.

The bell finally rings, ending the round. Dove leans heavily on the ropes, breathing raggedly, sweat and fatigue written all over her face. Lauren, in contrast, looks composed and focused, circling lightly and ready to capitalize if the fight continues.

Round Score:

Lauren Donzis: 10 (Knockdown)
Dove Cameron: 8

Fight Total After Round 8:

Dove Cameron: 75
Lauren Donzis: 76

Round 9

The bell rings and Dove bursts out of her corner with renewed intensity. She snaps rapid jabs and crosses, forcing Lauren to retreat immediately. Lauren tries to counter, but Dove’s speed and relentless combinations begin to dominate, keeping her on the defensive.

Dove presses forward, landing a clean right to Lauren’s jaw, then a sharp hook to the ribs. Lauren staggers, trying to regain her balance, but Dove doesn’t let up. She follows with a flurry of punches aimed at the midsection, chest, and upper ribs, each strike landing with precision. Lauren covers up, absorbing as much as she can, but her movements are slow and her breathing labored.

Midway through the round, Dove lands a devastating uppercut to the chest that sends Lauren reeling to the ropes. She lands several clean body shots to the ribs and stomach, rocking Lauren back and forcing her to collapse onto her knees. The referee begins a standing eight count as Lauren struggles to stay upright. Dove moves in aggressively, hammering combinations to Lauren’s ribs and chest, clearly threatening to end the fight.

Lauren manages to straighten up at the count of eight, swaying but still fighting to stay on her feet. Dove lands a couple more heavy body punches, but the bell rings, saving Lauren from what could have been a fight-ending sequence. Both fighters retreat to their corners, Dove breathing hard but smiling with the momentum, while Lauren leans against the ropes, drained and visibly shaken.

Round Score:

Dove Cameron: 10
Lauren Donzis: 9

Fight Total After Round 9:

Dove Cameron: 85
Lauren Donzis: 85

Round 10

The final round begins and both fighters come out knowing everything is on the line. Dove presses immediately, snapping jabs and quick combinations to the head and midsection, trying to take control early. Lauren, feeling the punishment from the previous round, moves cautiously, slipping under several punches and landing a looping hook to Dove’s ribs.
 
Dove’s superior speed allows her to dart in and out, landing clean body shots and snapping a few crosses to Lauren’s jaw. Lauren counters with a hook-cross combination that lands to Dove’s ribs, but it lacks the power and volume Dove has been putting together. Midway through the round, Dove corners Lauren against the ropes, landing rapid flurries to the head and body. Each punch drives Lauren backward, her movements slow and defensive.

Lauren fires back with a desperate uppercut and a hook, but Dove dodges, ducks, and lands a crisp combination to the chest and stomach that visibly rocks Lauren. The crowd rises as Dove continues to dominate the exchanges, forcing Lauren to clinch briefly to survive. Dove lands a sharp jab to the face and a looping hook to the ribs just as the final seconds tick down.

The bell rings, ending the fight. Both fighters raise their arms briefly, exhausted and breathing heavily, but it’s clear who controlled the decisive moments.

Official Decision: Dove Cameron wins by unanimous decision.

Scorecards:

Judge 1: 95–94 Dove
Judge 2: 95–93 Dove
Judge 3: 95–94 Dove

Dove’s speed, relentless combinations, and precise targeting of the body and head secured her the victory, while Lauren’s power and durability kept her competitive until the final round. The crowd cheers wildly as Dove celebrates in the ring, exhausted but victorious, while Lauren leans on the ropes, battered but proud of her performance.

Official Decision and Post-Fight Interview

The arena is buzzing as the referee steps forward. “Ladies and gentlemen, after ten hard-fought rounds, we go to the judges’ scorecards. All three judges score the fight in favor of Dove Cameron! Unanimous decision!”

Dove raises her arms, sweat dripping from her brow, chest heaving from exertion, but her face lights up with relief and pride. The crowd erupts into cheers, applauding the intensity and skill both fighters displayed. Lauren, exhausted and battered, leans against the ropes as her corner tends to her, acknowledging the crowd with a weary nod. She fought hard, but Dove’s speed, combinations, and relentless pressure earned her the victory.

Joe Rogan enters the ring, weaving through the ropes, microphone in hand. Dove turns toward him, still catching her breath but smiling.

“Dove, congratulations,” Joe begins. “That was an incredible fight. It was extremely close—Lauren landed some heavy shots and even scored a couple of knockdowns. How did you manage to stay composed and maintain control under that pressure?”

Dove exhales, shaking her head slightly with a tired laugh. “Thanks, Joe. Lauren’s tough—no doubt about that. I knew she had power, so I focused on staying light on my feet, moving in and out, and using combinations to wear her down. She hit hard and had moments where I had to dig deep, but I just kept circling, picking my shots, and staying patient. It was all about timing and consistency.”

Joe nods. “You were able to respond to her knockdowns and keep the fight competitive all the way to the final round. Was there a point where you thought it could slip away?”

Dove smiles wryly. “Definitely in Round 8, she had me in trouble, and her shots were punishing. But I told myself to stay calm, keep my guard up, and stick to the plan. I knew if I could survive and keep landing my combinations, I’d pull it back—and I’m glad I did.”

Joe gestures toward the exhausted Lauren. “A tough night for both fighters, but you showed heart and skill. What does this win mean for you?”

Dove lifts her gloves again, grinning. “It’s huge. Lauren pushed me to my limits, and that’s the kind of fight I wanted. This was a battle, not just a win. I feel stronger, faster, and more confident than ever.”

The crowd erupts as Dove celebrates, exhausted but triumphant, while Lauren’s corner helps her from the ring, both fighters having earned respect for their incredible effort.

Post-Fight Locker Room Interview – Lauren Donzis

Erin Andrews enters the dimly lit locker room, finding Lauren sitting on the bench, gloves off, towel around her shoulders, and a look of frustration etched across her face. She barely lifts her head as Erin approaches.

“Lauren, tough night out there,” Erin begins gently. “How are you feeling?”

Lauren lets out a long, heavy sigh. “I had her, Erin. I should have won, right?” She shakes her head, staring at the floor. “I felt like I was controlling parts of that fight… landing clean shots… but I don’t know. I just… I’m so upset with myself.”

Erin nods carefully. “It was a close fight in some rounds, but Dove really pressed the pace and kept landing those combinations.”

Lauren clenches her fists, frustration evident. “I know. I can see that now, but still… I had moments where I could have finished her. Christ,two knockdowns where she was barley able to get up. I made mistakes, and it cost me. I hate losing like this. I hate feeling like I left it out there.”

Erin asks, “Will you be coming back? Do you feel ready to challenge her again?”

Lauren’s eyes harden, determination returning. “Absolutely. Next time Dove is going down and staying down. I’ve learned from this, and I’m not making the same mistakes again. I’ll train harder, smarter, and when we meet in the ring again, it’ll be different. I’m not letting this slide.”

Erin nods, finishing the interview. “Thank you for your honesty, Lauren. We’ll see you back in the ring.”

Lauren slumps back, still frustrated and exhausted, but beneath the upset, a fire is burning—one that promises a fierce return.

Dove Cameron wins by Unanimous Decision

Written by The Badass Barbies

What happened to the 5th fight between Dove and Laura?  Never posted.

Match 04 Breast Battle: Dove Cameron vs. Laura Marano


The MGM Grand Ballroom is alive with noise, a chaotic blend of cheers, jeers, and nervous energy that rattles the rafters. Thousands of fans lean forward, eyes wide, waiting for the kind of fight that will be remembered for years. Above the ring, twin banners hang — Dove Cameron on one side, Laura Marano on the other — each woman’s figure lit dramatically, their breasts standing out like weapons ready for war.

This isn’t about friendship. It isn’t even about pride. Tonight, only one thing matters: proving whose chest can break the other’s. The fourth clash in the Final Verdict is about to begin, and the arena is electric as fans await Dove Cameron and Laura Marano. Laura currently leads the series 2–1 after seizing victory in oil pit and the intimate lingerie apartment wrestling match. One more win tonight, and she secures the best-of-five.

For Dove, the pressure couldn’t be higher. She opened the series strong with an arm-wrestling win that made her the early favorite, but back-to-back losses—in the oil pit and the lingerie apartment showdown—have left her reeling. Now she must deliver or watch Laura claim ultimate bragging rights and never be able to challenge her ever again.

This battle may be the most personal of all. Both women will remove their tops and will fight bare chested and unguarded in a three-stage trial: a technical nipple-only duel, a wild breast-swinging brawl, and, if needed, a grueling bearhug contest to crush the tie.

Make no mistake—this isn’t just about strength. It’s about whose breasts are firmer, tougher, and built to endure. The winner will be the woman who inflicts the most pain while keeping her composure. And the loser? There’s no fate more humiliating than being broken down, battered, and beaten by another woman’s breasts under the eyes of a packed arena.

General Rules:


The Breast-Only Combat Tournament pits Dove against Laura in a unique battle of pride, endurance, and chest-to-chest combat. Matches are best two out of three rounds. Fighters must remain **** throughout; no punches, slaps, or kicks are permitted—only the breasts are legal weapons. Ice may be applied before rounds to harden nipples and reduce swelling. Verbal taunting is encouraged to weaken resolve. Corners may shout advice but cannot physically interfere. Rounds end by submission, pin, or knockout depending on format. Breasts must stay exposed at all times, with adjustments only between rounds. The referee oversees fairness, confirming submissions, pins, or when a fighter can no longer continue and is forced to submit. This is a brutal showcase of raw stamina, technique, and determination—where every strike, grind, and press tests not just the body, but the willpower behind it.

Round 1: Nipple Combat

The opening round is about precision and pain tolerance. Fighters weaponize their nipples, aiming to stab, rake, and pin their opponent’s sensitive tips into submission. Victory comes by forcing a verbal submission, scoring a five-second pin, or inverting the opponent’s nipples through relentless pressure. Techniques include nipple pokes, rakes, scrapes, and stabs, while strategies revolve around hardness, timing, and balance. Ice-chilled nipples hit harder and withstand pain longer, while firm breasts provide a sturdy platform for pinning. Silence usually dominates, broken only by moans and groans, as each woman focuses on technical execution. Small adjustments in positioning, chest firmness, and nipple strength often decide the round. It’s a duel of control and nerve, where hesitation can cost everything. The referee carefully verifies pins or submissions before ending the round. Often, this first battle sets the tone—whether technical domination, pure endurance, or psychological intimidation carries forward.

Round 2: Full Breast Striking

Round two unleashes blunt-force combat. Fighters use their breasts as battering rams, swinging, smashing, and jabbing to overwhelm their rival. Victory comes by knockdown, submission from chest trauma, or referee stoppage. Techniques include breast smashes, wrecking-ball swings, crushing drops, and devastating uppercuts that lift and shock the opponent’s chest. Large breasts deliver punishing blows but are easier targets, while smaller, firmer breasts absorb damage better and can grind down bigger rivals with relentless shots. Recovery and endurance are critical—an aching chest makes every exchange harder. Taunts and insults become weapons of their own, breaking morale after clean hits. This round often explodes into chaos, drawing the loudest crowd reactions as fighters stagger under the punishment. Bruises, swelling, and flattened tissue mark the aftermath, leaving both women sore, red, and battered. Here, size, speed, and strategy collide in a brutal showcase of raw breast-to-breast power.

Round 3: Bearhug Duel

If the fight reaches round three, everything comes down to the bearhug duel—a must-win round where pride, strength, and endurance are tested to their absolute limits. The women lock chest-to-chest, arms cinched tight around each other’s backs, and there is no escape except through domination. Every second is agony as they crush, grind, and suffocate, trying to wring the fight out of their rival’s breasts. Shoulder rolls, twisting squeezes, and lift-and-press slams all add to the torment, but it’s stamina that decides who lasts and who breaks. One slip, one gasp, and the other woman seizes control. Defeat comes by submission, releasing the hold, or blacking out in the crushing embrace. Victory is more than survival—it’s supremacy.

Dove Cameron is the first to emerge from behind the curtain, stepping into the glare of the floodlights with her trademark icy glare. A towel clings loosely around her torso, barely concealing her breasts, the thin fabric doing little to hide the proud curves straining beneath it. Everyone in the arena knows what lies underneath—bare skin, exposed and vulnerable once the fight begins. Her blonde hair gleams under the lights, her figure honed and conditioned, every movement sharp with intent. Yet the crowd’s eyes are drawn to her chest, the swell and weight of it rising and falling as she leans against the ropes, almost daring Laura Marano to walk down and face her. Dove knows her size is her weapon, mass she can throw forward like a hammer, and tonight she intends to smash her rival with it.

Laura Marano enters second, greeted by a roar that splits the crowd in two—half wild cheers, half venomous boos. Wrapped in the same barely-there towel, her smaller but firmer breasts press against the thin fabric with each step. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hide, instead letting her smirk do the talking as her chest bounces lightly while she rolls her shoulders and warms up. What she lacks in sheer size, she makes up for in toughness. Laura has always been able to take punishment—absorbing pain, swallowing it, and turning it back on her opponent. Tonight, she intends to prove it again. To her, Dove’s size is not intimidation but opportunity—the bigger the target, the harder the fall. With the crowd howling around them, both women stand just seconds from stripping the towels away and revealing the bare weapons that will decide everything.

As Dove leans back against the ropes and Laura finally steps through the curtain, the two women lock eyes across the arena. The crowd’s roar is deafening, but it’s as if the noise fades for them—hate flashes in their stares, sharp and unblinking, each silently daring the other to break first. Their towels cling loosely to their bodies, barely hiding the bare flesh beneath, but neither woman cares about modesty. This isn’t about covering up; it’s about proving who has the stronger chest.

Dove smirks coldly, mouthing venomous promises of how she’ll crush Laura’s breasts flat against her own. Laura fires back with a wicked grin, shouting that Dove’s “soft pillows” will be bent, broken, and left sagging. The insults fly over the crowd’s roar, each jab like a strike before the real battle begins.

Both women suddenly step forward, closing the distance, their towels swaying with the motion. The referee rushes in, forcing himself between them as the audience erupts. Still, they lean around him, spewing threats, swearing what their breasts will do—flatten, smother, punish, and dominate. Their bodies tense, ready to collide, but the official holds the line. The stage is set, the hate is real, and the fight is seconds away from exploding.

As the referee steps between them and finishes the formal introductions, he keeps a hawk’s eye on every twitch. The tension in the arena tightens like a wire; even the loudest sections fall silent as the moment stretches.

Dove is the first to break the quiet, a cold smirk cutting across her face as she spits the words like a promise: “You really think my chest’s gonna back down? Think again. I’ll crush those little B-cups flat before you know what hit you.”

Laura answers without hesitation, voice low and ice sharp: “Bring everything you’ve got. Size won’t save you when I pin you and expose how soft you really are. Hope you like the taste of defeat.”

They lean in, eyes locked, trading shade and threats around the referee as if the official weren’t even there — the countdown to carnage already beginning.

The referee steps back, giving them the signal. For a heartbeat, the arena holds its collective breath. The towels clinging to their torsos sway like flags in the wind, tense with anticipation. Then, in a single, defiant motion, they drop to the floor.

Dove stands revealed, her 34C chest firm and commanding under the lights. Beside her, Laura’s 32B frame holds surprising fullness, her chest taut and strong, almost matching Dove’s presence. Both women’s nipples gleam like steel, hardened from long ice preparation, a clear sign that every ounce of their bodies is ready for the fight.

The crowd erupts into cheers and gasps, but neither falters. Muscles coiled, breaths measured, they circle each other with lethal focus. Hatred, pride, and raw competitiveness hang in the air like electricity. The towels are gone, the stakes laid bare, and the arena knows—it’s finally time for the battle to ignite.

The commentators can barely contain their excitement:

“This isn’t just a fight — this is war! Blonde vs Brunette, size against resilience, brute force against rebound strength.”

“Neither of these women knows how to quit. Something’s got to give — and all I know is that this it’s going to be brutal. You can feel the hatred between these two.”

Sweat already beads across Dove’s chest as she bounces lightly on her feet while rolling her head her eyes never leaving Laura. Laura, arms crossed under her chest, smirks again, radiating defiance. Every second drags, stretching the anticipation to breaking point.

The Official  Rules:

The ref steps between them, his voice cutting through the roar of the crowd. “Ladies! This will be best two out of three-round contest. Clean exchanges, no cowardice, no retreat. breadt to breast, strike for strike. I’ll call the winner if one of you can’t continue.”
 
Neither woman nods. Neither breaks eye contact. They are coiled springs, ready to unleash.

The lights dim to a single spotlight over the ring. The chants rise, the sound like thunder. Dove exhales hard through her nose, fists flexing at her sides. Laura tilts her head slightly, almost daring Dove to make the first move. The bell hasn’t even rung, and already it feels like the walls can’t contain the fury these two bitter rivals are about to unleash. The Breast Battle of the Century is about to begin.

Round 1: Nipple to Nipple Battle

Dove Cameron (34C) vs Laura Marano (32B)

The tension inside the combat circle was nearly unbearable. Laura and Dove stood ****, chests rising and falling with anticipation, every muscle coiled and ready, their nipples gleaming and hardened from the ice packs applied moments before. The crowd leaned forward, breath caught in collective suspense, as the referee gave a sharp glance to each fierce competitor and finally barked the command to begin. In an instant, both lunged forward, breasts thrust aggressively toward one another. The first impact rang out like a whip—nipples colliding with a sharp, painful snap that sent jolts of agony through both women. Each staggered a step, teeth gritted, refusing to yield. Laura hissed through clenched jaws and immediately retaliated, raking her hardened nipples across Dove’s sensitive areolas with brutal precision, igniting the fight in a flurry of pain and controlled aggression.

Pain flashed across Dove’s face as she yelped, but she wasn’t about to back down. She retaliated instantly, driving her hardened nipples forward in a flurry of sharp, precise stabs that slammed directly into Laura’s chest. Laura rocked backward from the force but recovered with lightning speed, lunging forward to smash her own chest against Dove’s, resetting the clash with brutal momentum. “Is that all you’ve got, weakling?” Laura sneered, eyes flashing. Dove’s expression darkened, fury fueling her movements, and she jabbed mercilessly at Laura’s left nipple, each strike driving deeper, sharper, faster. “No! No!” Laura cried involuntarily as Dove struck three more times in rapid succession, grinding her stiffened tip into the tender peak of her opponent, pain and dominance colliding in a tense, unrelenting barrage.

Laura gritted her teeth and lunged, raking her hardened nipples upward across Dove’s chest and leaving jagged red streaks across her sensitive peaks. Dove yelped, stumbling back as the sting radiated through her breasts, muscles tensing with every pulse of pain. SMACK! Laura pressed forward aggressively, locking chest-to-chest and driving her weight down in an attempt to pin Dove’s nipples beneath her own. “Got you now,” she hissed, her voice sharp and low near Dove’s ear. Dove squealed as the pressure flattened her nipples, the referee sliding into position to begin the count. One… two… three! With a sudden, explosive twist of her hips, Dove broke free, wrenching herself out of the hold before the full five seconds could be completed. Laura cursed under her breath, chest heaving, frustration and determination burning in her eyes. The first attempt at domination had failed, but the battle was only just heating up.

Dove lashed out instantly, unleashing a savage combination that left Laura reeling. First came a sharp, punishing nipple stab into Laura’s right breast, making her cry out in fresh agony, followed immediately by a vicious rake down both peaks, drawing fiery red welts across pale skin. Laura staggered backward, chest heaving, but Dove’s cruel grin only widened. “Are your little girl boobs too soft to handle me?” she taunted, eyes flashing with satisfaction. Furious, Laura charged back, nipples spear-like, smashing into Dove with brutal force, the colliding slap echoing through the arena as both women moaned and grunted under the impact. Dove twisted her shoulders with precision, pressing chest-to-chest and grinding her hardened nipples in tight, torturous circles against Laura’s sensitive peaks. Laura gasped, legs threatening to buckle as waves of pain radiated through her, and she could barely manage, “Oh god… stop… no… no stop!” Dove laughed, cruel and merciless. “Beg harder!” But Laura wasn’t done—her fire and defiance still burned, ready to strike back.

Summoning every ounce of strength and fury, Laura twisted her body and drove her hardened nipples sharply across Dove’s already reddened, inflamed peaks, a brutal double rake that made Dove scream in raw agony. “AAAAH! f%ck!” Dove yelped, stumbling back as pain radiated through her chest. For a split second, her guard dropped—and Laura seized the moment without hesitation. She lunged forward, pressing Dove chest-to-chest and trapping her nipples under her own in a crushing hold, driving down with all her weight. The referee slid into position, hand rising to begin the count. One… two… three… four—Dove howled, thrashing violently, muscles coiled in desperation, and with a final, explosive twist, she slipped free at the last possible instant. Tears stung her eyes, raw from the relentless assault, as Laura cursed under her breath, both women’s chests heaving, hearts racing, and the crowd roaring at the sheer ferocity of the near-capture.

Dove stumbled back, desperate for a heartbeat to clutch her burning, battered chest, but Laura advanced with ruthless confidence, taunting like a predator circling her prey. “All red and floppy, Dovey! Can’t even keep your little nipples up!” she sneered, eyes alight with vicious delight. Fury twisted Dove’s face as every nerve screamed, and with a roar, she lunged forward, launching a blistering barrage of nipple stabs that hammered Laura’s already tender peaks again and again. Each strike rocked Laura backward, but she planted her feet, jaw tight, refusing to break. Sensing an opening, Dove slammed her chest into Laura’s, stabilizing the brutal contact, and began a vicious series of shoulder rolls, grinding and twisting their hardened nipples together with relentless, punishing force. “No! No! Oh god!” Laura gasped, legs wobbling, body trembling as pain radiated through every fiber. Dove leaned close, voice low and merciless: “Give it up. You’re done.” She twisted her torso, driving forward with full intent, locking Laura’s nipples beneath her own as the referee’s hand shot up. One… two… three… four… fi . . .   Laura pulled back but Dove followed her like a predator ready to kill.

Dove dipped to the left then raised her left breast up then dropped her nipple landing on top of Laura's battered right bud. She adjusted then swung her right breast in a tight arc until her right nipple laid on top of Laura's left. With a slight pivot she pushed forward inching Laura's back until the brunette was pinned up against the ropes. Dove grinned as she made cool, calm, calculated adjustments driving her nipples deep into Laura's chest. A long deep moan escaped through Laura's lips as Dove made adjustments as the stiff buds were pressing up, down, side to side until Laura let out a garbles scream.

There it is, coed Dove. Feel that? That's your nipples being dominated. Laura closed her eyes as the pain started to become unbearable as slowly, milometer by milometer, Dove was simultaneously inverting both of Laura's tips. The referee stepped in. “Inversion. Do you give? Laura shook her head but Dove had her trapped with her back pressed tight to the ropes and her nipples slowly disappearing into her own chest.  I'm calling it, Laura. Do you give? Dove started rocking her torso back then forward each thrust burying the brunettes nipples deeper and deeper until Laura did the unthinkable. Her arm lifted up as her fans closed their eyes. Then against ever fiber in her body Laura's hand came down tapping cleanly three times on Dove's shoulder. Dove's fans celebrated as Laura's fans looked on in disbelief as Laura tapped out.

Dove roared in triumph as Laura collapsed backward, arms dropping limply over the top rope, tears streaming freely down her flushed face. Her once proud stiff nipples were throbbing as they slowly started poking out of her chest. Laura's teammates came to hr aid but she brushed them aside as she slowly gained her composure. The referee stepped forward and pointed decisively to Dove raising her hand.

Winner of Round 1: Dove Cameron!

The crowd was a thunderous mix of cheers and shouts filling the arena. Dove pressed forward, shoving Laura back into the ropes before poking a finger possessively onto Laura's breast her chest reveling in the control, the dominance, the spectacle. Laura lay gasping against the ropes, clutching her aching, tortured nipples, body heaving with sobs of pain and frustration, every movement a testament to the ordeal she’d endured. Dove leaned close, a savage grin splitting her bruised but victorious face, eyes glittering with hunger and intent. “Get those perky little B-cups ready,” she hissed, voice low and dangerous. “I’m just getting started.”

The bell sounded to close out the round, and the referee separated the women as officials ushered them back to their corners. The crowd buzzed in a low, electric hum, still processing the savage spectacle they had just witnessed.

Laura slumped onto her stool, chest heaving, her breasts mottled with red welts, her nipples raw and throbbing were now poking back out but the damage had already been done. She cradled them instinctively, biting her lip to keep more sobs from breaking loose. Vanessa was the first to her side, kneeling down and pressing a towel packed with ice gently across her battered peaks. Ariana Grande crouched low on the other side, whispering fiercely in Laura’s ear, You’re not done, you hear me? Katharine McNamara stroked Laura’s shoulder, her eyes hard as steel as she glared across the ring at Dove. But all three knew what weighed heaviest wasn’t just the pain—it was the humiliation. Seeing Dove raise her arms in triumph while Laura sobbed in her corner had left a scar deeper than any welt on her chest. Her pride stung more than her flesh, and it was written all over her trembling lips and damp cheeks.

Across the ring, Dove sat taller, sweat dripping down her body, her chest marked by red lines but her expression calm, predatory. She didn’t flinch when Alyson Michalka pressed an ice pack to her breasts, didn’t even hiss when Olivia Rodrigo gently dabbed at a forming welt. Debby Ryan leaned in close, her tone sharp. Don’t get reckless, Dove. She’s wounded, but look at her—she is like a cornered animal. That’s when they’re most dangerous. Dove smirked through the sting of the ice, her confidence radiating despite the ache in her chest. She wanted to hammer Laura again, to grind her into the canvas and leave no doubt whose breasts were superior. But her corner’s voices anchored her. Stay sharp. Stay patient. Don’t let the wounded alley cat bite back.

More ice was applied on both sides, cold shock numbing raw nerves and trying to dull the fire still burning between their aching breasts. The crowd, sensing the storm was only gathering strength, roared impatiently for round two.

Round 2 – Breast to Breast Combat


The bell rang for Round 2, and the crowd leapt to its feet.

Laura shot off her stool like she’d been fired from a cannon. Her eyes burned with raw fury, the sting of humiliation fueling every step as she stormed across the canvas. She didn’t wait, didn’t measure—she just hurled herself at Dove, breasts thrust forward like twin weapons, a scream ripping from her throat. The audience erupted, half in awe, half in shock at the sheer recklessness of her charge.

Dove, rising slowly from her corner, didn’t flinch. Her teammates words rang in her ears: Stay defensive. Let her burn herself out. She lifted her arms just enough to brace, setting her stance, chest heaving but steady, eyes narrowing on Laura’s wild approach.  CRACK! Their breasts collided mid-ring with a thunderclap of flesh on flesh, the sound echoing through the arena. Laura wailed with the effort, grinding forward with blind aggression, her smaller but firmer chest smashing repeatedly against Dove’s. She clawed for dominance, jabbing her nipples hard into Dove’s, slashing across tender flesh with manic desperation.

Dove grunted, staggered back a step under the onslaught, but her face stayed calm, focused. She absorbed the chaos, letting Laura expend energy with every reckless thrust and rake. Sweat flew, welts deepened, but Dove’s composure only hardened. With every slam of Laura’s chest into hers, she felt her rival’s fire start to flicker—burning hot, but burning fast.

Laura snarled through clenched teeth, tears already pricking at the edges of her eyes, her body screaming in protest. “I’ll… I’ll break you, Dove!” she cried, voice cracking as much from emotion as from strain. Dove smirked coldly, pushing back just enough to hold her ground. “No, Laura,” she whispered under her breath, steady and cruel, “you’re breaking yourself.”

Dove came forward with fury in her eyes, swinging her chest with wide, heavy arcs, hoping to batter Laura down with sheer size and momentum. Her 34Cs swept through the air like wrecking balls, each swing meant to crush Laura’s smaller chest into submission. But Laura was ready. With sharp, precise movements, she ducked back just as Dove’s breasts came crashing forward, the near-misses making the crowd gasp. Every time Dove committed to a big swing, Laura was already slipping out of range and answering with lightning counters.

CRACK! A savage left swipe landed flush across Dove’s chest, snapping her breasts sideways. The blonde staggered, her balance thrown off. SMACK! A right followed, punishing Dove’s sensitive flesh, drawing a pained groan from deep in her throat. Before Dove could recover, Laura lashed out with another brutal left, her smaller but firmer 32Bs whipping into Dove’s chest like twin hammers. The cumulative effect sent Dove stumbling to the side, arms flailing as the crowd roared in shock.

Laura’s confidence surged. She stalked Dove with a predator’s patience, circling, her eyes never leaving her rival’s battered breasts. Dove tried to brace, sucking in a ragged breath, but Laura ducked low and drove upward with a devastating uppercut smash. WHAM! The blow lifted Dove’s chest violently, her breasts jolting upward until they nearly mashed against her own face. The blonde yelped in agony, the impact stealing her breath and leaving her chest aching and exposed.

Now Dove’s back hit the ropes, her body sagging, her swollen 34Cs heaving helplessly with every gasp. Laura saw her moment. With a wild cry, she launched herself forward, her entire frame airborne for a heartbeat before slamming chest-first into Dove. BOOM! The flying breast smash landed flush, flattening Dove against the ropes with crushing force. The crowd erupted, the sound echoing like a thunderclap through the arena.

Dove collapsed forward, nearly falling to her knees, her arms instinctively going to clutch her chest, her face twisted in torment. Laura stood tall over her, chest bouncing proudly, the firmness of her 32Bs shining through with every punishing strike. She had proven her point: size didn’t matter here. Her smaller, harder breasts were overwhelming Dove’s softer curves, breaking her down piece by piece.

The referee, as shocked as the standing-room-only crowd, stepped toward the battered blonde. “You good to go?” he asked, eyes darting to Dove’s heaving, welted chest. For a moment it looked like she might collapse, but Dove shoved him aside with a snarl, steadying herself against the ropes. Pride burned hotter than the pain—there was no way she’d give Laura the satisfaction of a stoppage.

Laura, bouncing lightly on her toes, wore a smirk that dripped with arrogance. She sensed blood in the water and skipped forward with a hop in her step, eager to finish what she’d started. She whipped a wild breast swing toward Dove’s chest, looking for the kill shot. But she misjudged the distance. The strike fell short, leaving her off balance for a heartbeat too long.

Dove seized the opening. With a fierce roar, she swung her 34Cs in a brutal downward arc. WHAM! Her breasts slammed down onto Laura’s smaller 32Bs like a hammer crashing onto an anvil. The impact staggered Laura, who gasped as she scrambled for balance. She barely managed to straighten up before—CRACK!—another sledgehammer blow smashed into her chest from above, crushing her peaks flat against her ribcage.

Laura stumbled forward, her shoulder bumping into Dove, her body threatening to fold under the pressure. She brushed Dove’s side to keep upright, but her confidence faltered for the first time. The roar of the crowd swelled as momentum shifted.

Dove didn’t let her recover. Snarling through gritted teeth, she pressed forward, chest jutting out, slamming her breasts into Laura’s again and again. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. Each collision echoed like a boxer’s jab, punishing and precise. Laura grunted with every strike, her firmer B-cups struggling against Dove’s relentless barrage. The battle had flipped once more—now Dove was the predator, driving Laura backward under a storm of swinging, jabbing flesh.

The crowd was on its feet, unable to believe what it was seeing. Sweat dripped from both fighters’ faces, their hair sticking damply to their cheeks as they inched forward. There was no finesse left, no hint of strategy—just raw determination and the need to prove who had the stronger chest. Their eyes burned with tears, not from sorrow but from the unrelenting pain of the battle, though neither would ever admit it. They came together with a thunderous smack, their breasts clapping into each other, rebounding back, only to surge forward again. Each collision was like the crashing of waves against a rocky cliff, violent and unyielding. The crowd gasped in rhythm with every slap of flesh on flesh.

The tempo built, faster, harder, more desperate. Their bodies jolted with each meeting, shoulders trembling, chests snapping back into place before launching forward once more. The skin around their cleavage was red and raw, welts forming from the repeated impacts, yet they showed no signs of surrender. They leaned back only to hammer in again, both trying to shatter the other’s will. Dove gritted her teeth, pushing through the searing ache that made her chest feel like it was on fire. Laura hissed through parted lips, her own pain masked by the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins. The crowd could see it—this was no longer about scoring points or technique, it was survival by destruction.

Finally, with lungs heaving and their breasts swollen from the constant abuse, they leaned back as far as they could. A final scream of effort ripped from their throats as they threw themselves forward one last time, colliding so hard the sound echoed like a slap across the entire arena. The force carried them into each other, and this time neither pulled back. Their chests flattened together, pressed so tightly that the skin around them bulged outward. They locked into a breast press, faces close, eyes wild. Laura looked down with a savage grin, her breath hot against Dove’s cheek. Feel that? That’s your breasts getting flattened. Dove shook her head violently, shouting no, no, but her back was already against the ropes. Laura leaned harder, pressing forward with her firm 32B’s, while Dove’s larger 34C’s mushroomed outward helplessly. The crowd roared as Laura ground her chest into Dove’s, forcing her breasts wider and flatter with every ounce of strength she had, determined to crush her rival once and for all.

Laura looked every bit the prizefighter now, her movements crisp and calculated, her 32B’s snapping forward with the precision of a seasoned champion. Dove had managed a desperate reversal, pinning Laura momentarily, but the cagey brunette’s agility saved her. She slipped under Dove’s weight with feline sharpness, flipping the momentum and driving the blonde hard into the corner. There was no escape — the ropes bit into Dove’s back, trapping her like prey.

Laura began her assault with merciless discipline, her chest striking like a boxer’s fists. A straight shot hammered into Dove’s cleavage, then another, each blow jarring the blonde’s weary frame. Jabs followed, short and sharp, rattling her bruised 34C’s like speed-bag drills. Dove tried to shield herself, but her arms flailed weakly — her chest was taking the full brunt of Laura’s onslaught.

The crowd gasped as Laura shifted gears, uppercuts rising from beneath with frightening power. Her firm breasts dug deep under Dove’s battered pair, lifting them violently with a smacking slap against Dove’s own chin. The blonde reeled, her head snapping back, face twisted in pain. Still Laura pressed on, her torso twisting as she unleashed crosses and sweeping left-to-right combos that flattened Dove’s chest from every angle. Fight back! the referee shouted, leaning in, ready to intervene. But Dove couldn’t. Each punch-like smash of Laura’s breasts drained her further, her body sagging, her legs buckling beneath her.

Dove was fading fast as Laura continued hr ruthless assault but the veteran of breast battles dug deep and in a last ditch effort started her comeback. The reversal started with desperation. Dove roared, shaking her body violently against Laura’s, summoning every shred of strength left in her battered chest. With a sudden surge, she twisted and shoved forward, flipping their positions so that Laura was driven back into the corner. For a heartbeat, the crowd exploded, sensing a dramatic turnabout as Dove’s 34C’s dropped heavily onto Laura’s chest like wrecking balls, threatening to crush the smaller woman flat. 

But Laura was too quick, too agile. With catlike movement, she ducked low, slipping under the weight of Dove’s breasts before the punishment could stick. The crowd gasped as Laura pivoted and trapped Dove against the corner turnbuckle, her body pinning Dove in place with nowhere to run. And then—Laura transformed. No longer was this a grudge match; she moved like a world champion, her chest firing off strikes with a precision and fury that mimicked a prizefighter’s combinations.

Straight shots pounded into Dove’s breasts, flattening them back into her ribcage. Jabs snapped her chest from side to side. A vicious uppercut smashed the underside of Dove’s right breast, sending it bouncing up in agony. A cross followed immediately, smacking into the left with devastating accuracy. Then came the sweeps, left to right to left again, each one echoing like leather on flesh, battering Dove’s fading curves into red, throbbing targets.

The referee hovered close, his hand twitching as he barked, fight back, Dove! You’ve got to fight back! But Dove’s arms hung useless at her sides, her body trembling as Laura’s relentless assault punished her mercilessly. Then it came—the ender. A pair of brutal uppercuts slammed into the tender undersides of Dove’s breasts, lifting them violently, so high that they smacked into her own chin with an audible slap that echoed across the stunned arena. Dove’s head snapped back, her mouth open in shock and pain. Laura crouched, buried her shoulder under Dove’s sagging breasts, then straightened with cruel power, forcing Dove upright, helpless, exposed.

Laura wound back one final time and unleashed a crushing cross. It landed flush, folding Dove forward like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her body slumped limply into Laura’s shoulder, then slid down slowly, face-first, collapsing at Laura’s feet. The referee dropped to his knees, waving his arms frantically. KO! KO! KO! We have a KO!
he shouted, his voice cracking above the thunder of the crowd. Dove lay sprawled face-first on the mat, unmoving, utterly broken. Laura raised her arms, her chest heaving, the undisputed conqueror. Her 32B’s—firmer, unyielding, triumphant—had just destroyed Dove’s proud 34C’s. The humiliation was total.

Winner of Round 2: Laura Marano!

The arena was still vibrating from the echo of the knockout when Laura threw her arms skyward, chest heaving, sweat-slicked and shining under the lights. Her firm round rack rose proudly with every breath, the very weapons that had secured her victory. She paced the ring with a fighter’s bounce in her step, grinning ear to ear as the crowd erupted into chants of “LAU-RA! LAU-RA!” Her triumph was undeniable, her domination absolute.

Meanwhile, Dove lay face-down, barely stirring, her once proud chest mashed against the canvas, spread and flattened as if in mockery of their former proud shape. Her blonde hair veiled her face, but the trembling of her shoulders betrayed shallow, painful breaths.
 
The referee crouched over her, checking frantically for a response before signaling to Dove’s corner. Alyson Michalka was the first through the ropes, sliding to Dove’s side with a look of pure anguish. “Come on, Dove, talk to me!” she begged, gently rolling her onto her back. The sight was heartbreaking—her breasts were red, swollen, welted, and bruised, rising and falling weakly as she groaned in pain.

Debby Ryan and Olivia Rodrigo rushed in close behind, both of their faces tight with disbelief. Debby dropped to her knees first, pressing ice bags carefully onto Dove’s swollen chest, whispering shaky encouragement through tear-choked words. Debby knelt beside them, stroking Dove’s damp hair, her voice trembling as she murmured, You gave everything, Dove… you gave everything. But then Olivia’s expression hardened. With a sudden shove, she pushed Debby’s hands away from Dove. Stop with the loser talk! she snapped, fire blazing in her eyes. She’s got another round left in her—this isn’t over! Now quit pitying her and help me get her to the corner. We’ve got five minutes, that’s it.

At ringside, Laura’s corner erupted with pride and celebration. Vanessa Marano vaulted into the ring first, throwing her arms around her sister and holding her tight, her voice a fierce whisper against Laura’s ear. You did it. You finally did it. You beat that insufferable blonde and she will never bother you again. Ariana Grande followed right after, wrapping Laura in her own embrace, her grin sharp and cruel as she shouted loud enough for Dove’s entire team to hear. This is what firmer **** look like, baby! Across the ropes, the taunt cut like a blade. Katharine McNamara joined in with a slow, deliberate clap, her smile thin and razor-edged as she turned her gaze across the ring toward the broken blonde before glancing back at Laura. I think you’d better get ready for round three. Looks like blondie over there might try to drag herself back up. Ariana’s eyes flicked toward the sight of Dove slumped in her corner, her smirk widening. Good. I hope she does. Then Laura can finish her for good.

Dove’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, tears streaking her cheeks. She tried to push herself up, but her strength failed her and she collapsed back onto the mat with a low, painful groan. Alyson and Debby grabbed an arm, steadying her carefully, making sure not to aggravate her battered chest. Across the ring, the referee, assuming there would be no miraculous comeback, moved toward Laura to raise her hand in victory.
 
But Olivia wasn’t having it. With a sudden burst, she shot across the ring and slammed her shoulder into the referee’s back, sending him stumbling backward into Laura. The collision was thunderous—the front leg of a stool snapping loudly under the impact. Laura leapt to her feet, fury flashing in her eyes. Vanessa and Katharine scrambled, trying to restrain Olivia, but she fought against them with all her might.

Laura didn’t hesitate. She wound back and slammed two bone-crunching right hooks into Olivia’s ribs, making her gasp and double over. Before Olivia could recover, Laura pivoted and fired a sharp, straight left directly into her right breast, forcing her to stagger back, clutching herself in shock and pain. Security surged forward, yanking Olivia back to her corner as she struggled to catch her breath, frantically tucking her breast back into her top, glaring over her shoulder at Laura with a mix of pain and defiance. “You want to go again, Rodrigo? Want to step into the ring with me? Olivia backed away the scars of her last bout with Laura still clear as if it happened yesterday. “Mess with me again and I promise you'll be carried out on a stretcher!” Olivia backed away as Laura was now pacing as her team did their best to calm her down. The arena buzzed with chaos, the tension rising even higher as the fighters prepared for the next brutal round.

Dove jolted to her feet when she saw Olivia staggered and reeling from the strike; fury replaced the daze in her eyes. This isn’t over, she snarled, voice raw. Adrenaline flooded her veins and steadied her hands. She inhaled slowly, forcing her heartbeat down as Debby and Joey worked quickly at her, dabbing cold packs over her swollen chest. Dove pushed them away, bristling, but Joey caught her wrist gently. You need this, she said, gripping Dove’s hand. It will help with the swelling. I don’t care how bad it hurts, Dove snapped, voice iron. She pointed across the ring at Laura. She’s going down—tomorrow in the cage, there’s nowhere she can hide. Nothing she can do will stop this.

Round 3 – The Bear Hug Showdown

The bell rings, and the tension in the arena spikes to a near-electric pitch. Dove Cameron rises from her corner, her hair disheveled and her 34Cs red, raw, and tender from Laura’s punishing uppercut combo in Round 2. Her arms are firm, ready, but there’s a subtle wobble in her stance—a reminder of just how close she came to being completely knocked out. She glares at Laura, eyes hard, jaw tight. Every ounce of her focus is on this final, grueling round. A round she knows she simply can't afford to lose.

Laura Marano, meanwhile, steps forward with a mischievous smirk, her still solid 32Bs gleaming with sweat and unrelenting confidence. She knows she’s got the upper hand on cardio and her breast striking has already proven devastating. But she’s not underestimating Dove—her opponent’s size and endurance are formidable. Laura’s confidence is high, but she respects the challenge. Both women circle slowly, measuring each other. Then, in one fluid motion, they spring forward simultaneously. Their hands lock behind each other’s backs, pulling tight, mashing their battle tested breasts into each other with a loud wet slap. Dove’s breasts press against Laura’s, the firm skin already throbbing from prior strikes. Laura’s chest feels rock-solid under the press, unyielding, and she locks her fingers and digs her arms into Dove's lower back. She plants her feet into the mat as she tries to force Dove backward.

The first squeeze hits, and both gasp sharply, muscles screaming. Dove leans in, trying to drive her torso forward, forcing her chest against Laura’s. Laura counters immediately, rotating her hips slightly, adding torque to the hold, compressing Dove’s upper body against her own like a vice. Sweat drips down their foreheads, glistening as their chests press together, nipples brushing against each other with every motion. Dove exhales in a shaky breath, teeth gritted. Her arms strain against Laura’s, fighting for leverage. Pain radiates from her ribcage, up through her shoulders, and across her tender underside. Laura notices the small flicker of discomfort in Dove’s eyes and can’t help the grin that spreads across her face.

“Oh, I see you're feeling that, Dovey?” Laura teases, voice low and cutting. “Did that squeeze hurt? This is going to be so fun watching you suffer.”

Dove presses her lips together, ignoring the taunt, and tries to push her chest to the side, hoping to shift the pressure just enough to get a slight edge. Laura shifts with her, countering each move deftly, arms tightening with subtle adjustments that maximize the squeeze without overextending herself. The two women grind, biceps bulging as their arms loosen then constrict tight. Dove’s breasts are larger, giving her some natural leverage, but Laura’s arms are like steel bands, squeezing relentlessly, forcing Dove to expend energy just to maintain her stance. Pain flashes across the blonde's chest from the unbearable pressure and the occasional sharp poke to her undersides. She exhales shakily again, the sound betraying her exhaustion, but her eyes never leave Laura’s.

Laura leans in, whispering just close enough for Dove to hear. “You want to tap, don't you. If you don't then I’ll crush every inch of you until you’re crying like a little baby.”

Dove grits her teeth harder, a flicker of defiance shining through the exhaustion. She shifts her hips subtly, trying to pry an inch of advantage, chest pressing, arms straining—every second is a battle of pain endurance, every heartbeat another test of stamina. The referee hovers nearby, watching the locked embrace, looking on silently as the tension escalates. The crowd is on edge, sensing that this final round will hinge on sheer grit and unyielding force. Neither fighter is giving an inch—every flex of the arms, every roll, every micro-adjustment could decide who falls first.

The minutes tick past in this iron embrace. Dove’s chest pushes outward, trying to gain leverage, but Laura’s arms hold like clamps refusing to release their dominant position. Each exhale from Dove is shaky, each groan betrays pain—but she refuses to submit. Laura’s smirk grows as she feels Dove’s strain, whispering more taunts trying to break her blonde rival.

“Come on, Dovey… Really want me to flatten you? You can still save yourself… but only if you tap.”
“Dream on, Marano. You're going to have to do better than this.”

Dove’s thumbs dig into Laura's lower back, knuckles whitening, and she presses upward with all her strength determination fierce despite the throb and ache. The battle is slipping away and time is quickly running out on the fading blonde. Dove’s size and stubbornness is failing and  Laura’s precision, arm strength, and relentless pressure is starting to take over.

“It’s almost over, Dove,” she purred. “Can you feel it? Can you feel your breasts about to give?”
“NEVER,” Dove spat through gritted teeth, forcing herself to remain upright despite the pressure.

Dove’s chest heaved, her rack beginning to mushroom outward slightly under Laura’s firm pair. The pressure, the relentless squeeze was intense and both women could feel it. With a deft shoulder roll, Laura shifted her weight, just enough to press her point home. Dove could feel her left breast pinched tight against Laura’s chest, the softening undeniable. She instinctively tried to lean back, arching her shoulders trying to roll away, but Laura countered every move flawlessly, anticipating each escape, her biceps and forearms burning as she maintained complete control.

Dove’s mind raced—she needed to do something, and fast, before Laura’s hold fully dominated her but the brunette had the advantage, pressing in hard, sure that Dove’s finished. Then Dove suddenly shifts her weight, sliding her right foot back and dropping her center of gravity. The change unbalances Laura. Before she can react, Dove drives a shoulder up and to the side, turning her opponent’s own momentum against her. Laura stumbles half a step, arms loosening for a split second. That’s all Dove needs. She plants, pivots, and leans back, breaking the hold and sending Laura off balance. The crowd gasps as Dove regains her stance—breathing hard, but still squeezing Laura in her tight grip. Laura looks genuinely stunned; she thought Dove was done.

Both women temporarily loosened their grips, panting standing chest to chest, slick with sweat, then on queue, their arms locked tight around each other’s backs. The air between them was hot and ragged, filled with slick sweat. Each fighter’s muscles trembled from fatigue, but neither backed down — they had already split the first two rounds, and this was it. Laura dipped low, adjusting her grip under Dove’s arms. She tightened her stance, bracing her legs and using her core strength to heave upward. Dove’s eyes widened as the pressure against her ribs and sternum intensified. The lift forced Dove up onto her toes, her chest compressed painfully against Laura’s as both women strained. Dove gasped, trying to twist free, but Laura’s hold only cinched tighter. She could feel the brunette leaning back, digging her heels in and every muscle in her back engaged refusing to let go. Dove’s breath hitched; the crushing pressure was not only flattening her breasts but it was driving the air out of her lungs. Dove dropped her chin to Laura’s shoulder, gritting her teeth against the pain.

Laura shifted her feet, adjusting her leverage, and pushed again, forcing Dove backward a step. The move sent a shock through both of them — Laura’s momentum was brutal, but Dove’s strength held just enough to keep her from toppling. Still, the force left Dove winded, her knees buckling slightly. For a few seconds, the only sounds were gasps, grunts, and the soft squeak of their feet on the mat. Dove drew a deep breath and twisted her hips sharply to the side. The sudden movement broke Laura’s alignment, loosening the bearhug just enough for Dove to wrench her right elbow free. She used it to shove against Laura’s shoulder, pushing them apart for a heartbeat — long enough to regain her footing.

Laura’s eyes flashed. “Not bad,” she spat, lunging forward again. “But it’s not nearly enough!”

They slammed back together. This time, Dove hooked her arms higher under Laura’s, locking her hands behind the brunette’s upper back. She leaned in, forehead pressing against Laura’s, and started to squeeze with everything she had. Laura grimaced, her own breath catching. The reversal stunned her — Dove’s upper body strength was on full display now, her shoulders and biceps shaking as she poured on the pressure. Both women trembled from effort, neither able to find a clean advantage. The referee hovered close, watching for a submission. Laura let out a sharp exhale, then tried to change tactics. She bent her knees slightly, shifting her center of gravity, and used a sudden surge of strength to lift Dove off the ground again. For a moment, Dove’s feet left the mat, her body tensing instinctively against the lift.

The pressure was immense. Dove’s arms loosened for an instant as she gasped for air — but sheer willpower kept her from surrendering. She twisted her torso just enough to slip her right shoulder inside Laura’s grip and drive forward. Both stumbling sideways into the ropes, still locked together, still squeezing, still refusing to break. Every muscle in their bodies was screaming. The struggle was raw and primal now — not pretty, not polished, just two exhausted fighters pushing past the limits of endurance. Then, finally, one of them faltered. Laura’s grip slipped just a fraction, her arms trembling uncontrollably. Dove felt it immediately — that slight give — and drove forward with a roar, forcing Laura back against the ropes again. She tightened the bearhug until Laura’s knees buckled, her face contorting in pain.

They slammed back together. This time, Dove hooked her arms higher under Laura’s, locking her hands behind the brunette’s upper back. She leaned in, forehead pressing against Laura’s, and started to squeeze with everything she had. Laura grimaced, her own breath catching. The reversal stunned her — Dove’s upper body strength was on full display now, her shoulders and biceps shaking as she poured on the pressure. Both women trembled from effort, neither able to find a clean advantage. The referee hovered close, watching for a submission. Laura let out a sharp exhale, then tried to change tactics. She bent her knees slightly, shifting her center of gravity, and used a sudden surge of strength to lift Dove off the ground again. For a moment, Dove’s feet left the mat, her body tensing instinctively against the lift.

“Let’s see you breathe now,” Laura grunted.

The pressure was immense. Dove’s arms loosened for an instant as she gasped for air — but sheer willpower kept her from surrendering. She twisted her torso just enough to slip her right shoulder inside Laura’s grip and drive forward. Both crashed back into the ropes, still locked together, still squeezing, still refusing to break. Every muscle in their bodies was screaming.

Laura’s lips curled into a grimace. “You’re slowing down,” she rasped.
Dove shook her head, breath ragged but eyes defiant. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Both women leaned back, muscles coiled and trembling, then hurled themselves forward in perfect unison. Their chests met with a savage, echoing smack that cut through the air like a whip. The force jolted through their bodies, sending them staggering on unsteady feet, gasping as the air was punched from their lungs.

But Laura struck first. With a sharp, practiced shift of her hips, she twisted violently, wrenching Dove off balance while keeping the bearhug locked tight. Each squeeze drew a sharp cry from the blonde, Laura’s arms snaking lower around Dove’s back until her forearms dug in deep, crushing with deliberate, merciless pressure. She leaned back and lifted, forcing a gasp from Dove as her feet left the floor, body arched helplessly in Laura’s grip. The brunette’s movements were fluid and cruel—hips grinding, elbows biting in—before she angled her torso just right, sliding her chest across Dove’s. Then, with a fierce twist, Laura drove her left breast hard into Dove’s, pinning it brutally against her own sternum, the impact drawing a strangled groan from her rival.
 
“Feel that?” Laura snarled, her voice low and feral as she hoisted Dove higher, the blonde’s toes barely scraping the mat. She yanked Dove in close until their faces were inches apart, breath mingling, eyes locked in raw defiance. “This is me breaking you.”

Dove’s jaw clenched, every muscle in her body trembling as she fought to endure. Her back arched under the crushing force, her chest compressed painfully against Laura’s as her left breast was flattened mercilessly. Still, she refused to give Laura the satisfaction of a scream. Their foreheads pressed together, slick with sweat, both women trembling from exertion, their bearhugs a brutal contest of strength and will—neither willing to yield, neither ready to be broken.

Dove’s chest heaved violently as she writhed in Laura’s crushing side pin, every breath a ragged battle for control. Her left breast was smashed painfully against her ribcage, her right distorted and bulging outward beneath Laura’s relentless pressure. Each second stretched into agony — hot, stabbing waves radiating through her chest. She gasped, her hands scrabbling uselessly for leverage, nails biting into Laura’s slick skin but finding no escape.

For a fleeting moment, the thought flickered—just let go. The ache was unbearable, her nerves screaming for release. Tap out. End it. Her body begged for mercy. But then her pride, fierce and burning, cut through the haze. She could feel Laura’s breath against her neck, smug and certain. The thought of surrendering to that smirk reignited the fire in her gut.

Her jaw clenched. No. Not to her. Not now. Not ever.

Laura’s eyes glimmered with cruel satisfaction as she felt the faint tremor in Dove’s arms — that split second of doubt. “Ohhh… there it is,” she hissed, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. She bore down harder, twisting her hips for maximum pressure. “Feel that? That’s your chest giving out, sweetheart. Admit it — my tight little 32Bs are outclassing those soft, overrated 34s of yours!”

Dove’s breath hitched through clenched teeth, her body trembling from pain and fury. “N-never…” she forced out, barely audible, the word more growl than voice.

Laura grinned, savoring it — the defiance, the struggle. She leaned in close, her breath hot against Dove’s ear, voice low and taunting. “That’s what I thought,” she whispered. “Come on, Dovey… fight back. Show me you’ve got something left before I crush what’s left of your pride.”

With a raw, defiant growl, Dove twisted her shoulders hard, forcing her body to roll just enough to ease the crushing pressure on her side. Fire shot through her chest as Laura’s grip resisted, but she managed to wrench herself half an inch free—enough to breathe, enough to fight. Her breasts, once flattened and distorted, began to swell back into shape, the relief fleeting but vital.

Laura tightened again, but Dove shifted low, using every ounce of leverage to block the finishing move. The two stood locked together, bodies trembling, their slick skin sliding as they fought for dominance inch by inch. Every breath was a battle, every twitch of muscle a silent declaration of defiance. Their chests pressed, twisted, and collided, each woman reading the other’s endurance, testing resolve and pride. One would break soon—but neither dared to be the first to give an inch.

Laura’s eyes sharpened, a predator’s gleam in her gaze as she adjusted her stance. She dipped low beneath Dove’s center of gravity, then drove upward with calculated force, sending an immediate, searing pressure through Dove’s sensitive undersides. Dove’s breath caught in her throat, her heels lifting from the mat as the pain forced her onto tiptoe, chest stretched and tormented. For a brief flicker of a second, the thought of surrender teased the edges of her mind—just one tap, and the agony would end—but stubborn pride and defiance kept her rooted in the fight.

Sensing the hesitation, Laura didn’t relent. She tightened her grip, lifting and twisting just enough to amplify the pressure, making Dove flinch and exhale sharply with each subtle adjustment. The constant torment left Dove gasping for air, nipples straining, her chest forced into an unrelenting hold that pushed her toward the brink. Leaning in close, Laura’s smirk turned sharp and teasing, her voice a low, calculated taunt: “Go on, Dove… tell me how it feels to be beneath me.”

Dove’s body shuddered under Laura’s crushing embrace, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as the pressure built to a breaking point. Every movement Laura made felt deliberate—calculated cruelty designed to make Dove feel small, powerless, conquered. The ache in her chest had become unbearable, her ribs creaking, her muscles screaming for release. Yet even through the haze of pain, Dove’s eyes burned with resistance, refusing to give Laura the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

Laura sensed that defiance and relished it, tightening her arms once more until Dove’s gasp escaped her lips. “That’s it,” Laura hissed through clenched teeth, her face inches away, the sweat between them mixing as their bodies strained. “Fight me all you want—it only makes this sweeter.” She gave another crushing squeeze, savoring the soft sound of Dove’s muffled grunt, her dominance now complete, her victory not just in strength but in sheer control.

Dove’s breaths came in ragged bursts, her body quivering under Laura’s unrelenting grip, chest aching and muscles trembling, yet she refused to surrender. Laura felt every shift, every flicker of weakness, savoring the subtle give in Dove’s once-tense form. With precise, punishing control, she bent Dove to her will, each second a relentless lesson in endurance and domination, her rival’s resistance slowly crumbling beneath the calculated, merciless pressure.

“Almost done, Dove,” Laura taunted, voice cold but playful. “A couple of more seconds, and it’s over. Say it—you’re done.”

Dove gritted her teeth, a shaky exhale escaping her lips. She could feel her resolve cracking, each pulse of pressure making it harder to breathe, harder to keep her focus. But in that moment, a spark of defiance ignited. If I don’t break free now, it’s done. I can’t let this insufferable **** win without a fight.

Dove gritted her teeth, summoning every ounce of strength to force even a fraction of movement. Her toes dug into the mat, core tight, shoulders twisting sharply in a desperate bid to create any space between her chest and Laura’s iron grip. Pain shot through her undersides like fire, each lurch bringing her breasts closer to Laura’s calculating hold, teasing both relief and agony. Laura’s eyes narrowed, glinting with predatory awareness, and she leaned in, voice low and cutting: “Oh? You think you can get away? Nice try, Dove—but you’re not leaving until I say so.” Every word dripped with control, a reminder that Dove’s struggle only fueled Laura’s dominance, every twitch and strain reinforcing who was truly in command.

As Dove twisted, Laura reacted with ruthless precision—sliding forward and slamming her chest back into Dove’s, locking her down in an unyielding block. The collision drove a sharp grunt from Dove’s lips as the pressure surged, her head tilting back while her breasts were forced mercilessly upward against her chin. The strain was unbearable; every nerve burned, her trembling body betraying just how close she was to breaking.

“Feel that?” Laura hissed, her breath hot against Dove’s ear as she leaned in harder, tightening the crushing press. “That’s what happens when you fight back at the wrong time. One more second, Dovey—and you’ll remember exactly who owns you in here.”

Dove’s eyes flared with fury, tears stinging as humiliation and rage coursed through her. Laura’s chest pressed into hers like a vice, every thrust, twist, and squeeze dripping with contempt, each movement a cruel reminder that Dove was losing. She clawed for leverage, trying to lift and shift her chest to ease the agony, but Laura smirked, tightening the hold without mercy, crushing Dove’s breasts flat against her own with deliberate, spiteful force. Every second was a message: you are mine, and there’s no escape.

Dove’s body shook violently as she pushed upward, every raw, throbbing nerve in her chest screaming in protest. The burn was unrelenting, white-hot, and constant, but she knew she couldn’t endure another second trapped beneath Laura’s iron grip. This was her moment. Sliding her arms with precision to Laura’s lower back, Dove shifted her weight, wriggling her bruised, swollen breasts free from the crushing hold. Laura’s eyes snapped wide in shock, her muscles tensing as the sudden reversal threw her off balance. Dove didn’t hesitate—she swung low, then dropped with a heavy, bone-jarring thud, using her body weight and gravity in a brutal, unexpected press that slammed Laura off her center and left her reeling.

“Hmm, clever move,” Laura hissed through gritted teeth, a mix of admiration and frustration flickering across her face. “Thought you’d let me flatten you, did you?”

Dove didn’t answer with words—she let her body do the talking. Even though her undersides throbbed from the earlier assault, she pressed down strategically, shifting slightly from side to side, making Laura’s arms strain under the weight. Laura’s biceps, once strong and steady, trembled noticeably as she tried to counter the pressure.

The momentum had shifted. Dove sensed Laura’s weakening through the tiny quiver in her shoulders, the sagging of her torso, and the hesitant push of her arms. Each lift and squeeze Laura managed now required far more effort, her chest failing to press Dove down with the same brutal force. Every nerve in Dove’s body screamed to exploit the opening; she could feel the advantage slipping away if she hesitated even for a heartbeat. With steely focus, she braced herself, ready to strike while Laura’s defenses faltered, knowing this was the moment to seize control.

“Feeling that, Laura?” Dove hissed, her tone sharp and venomous, each word a jab. “Your arms won’t hold me forever. Starting to crumble yet?”

Laura’s jaw clenched, fury blazing, but the tremor in her grip betrayed her. “F-**** you! I’m not…done…yet,” she spat, every syllable strained. Her arms quivered under the effort, each lift and shift sending a shudder through her body. Every motion that once dominated now demanded more than she could comfortably muster, and Dove’s smirk only fueled the mounting frustration.

Dove’s plan was ruthless and precise—brute strength alone wouldn’t win this. She angled her hips just right, pressing her chest strategically against Laura’s, driving her shoulders down and keeping her trapped in a grinding, exhausting hold. Every subtle shift of weight forced Laura to fight harder, her arms quivering under the relentless pressure, each attempted lift slower and more labored. Dove leaned into the advantage, savoring the sight of her rival’s strength eroding with every second.

The match had become a war of attrition, each second stretching the limits of pain and willpower. Dove’s chest throbbed, her undersides screaming from the relentless struggle, but she refused to yield, anchoring herself with sheer determination. Laura’s defiance was palpable, yet subtle signs betrayed her weakening grip—her arms shaking, her lifts slower, her endurance waning.

Dove leaned in, a spiteful glint in her eyes, sweat matting strands of hair against her brow. “Time to pay for every move you made,” she hissed, driving her chest down with calculated precision. Laura’s shoulders groaned under the weight, her own chest flattening painfully, the sting of each press a constant reminder that the tide had turned, and Dove was now dictating the pace of this brutal, intimate battle.

Dove’s grin was sharp, almost cruel, as she pressed down harder, letting every ounce of her weight and leverage drive Laura further into submission. Her breasts pinned Laura’s mercilessly, flattening and spreading her opponent in a display of dominance that left no room for escape. Laura’s arms flailed weakly, her muscles quivering as she struggled to regain even a fraction of control, but Dove anticipated every twitch, every desperate shift.

With a deliberate, spiteful ease, Dove leaned back slightly, planting herself firmly on her tiptoes, amplifying the downward pressure. Laura’s chest mushroomed unnaturally beneath her, nipples pushed painfully inward, every nerve screaming as she realized she was trapped. The once-dominant brunette’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief, her pride crushed alongside her helpless body, leaving her completely at the mercy of Dove’s unyielding, precise control.

Laura’s face contorted, a mix of rage and shock flooding her features. “You—!” she gasped, her words breaking under the force crushing her chest. Every instinct screamed to push back, to reclaim even an inch of leverage, but Dove anticipated it all.

With a cold, calculated smirk, Dove leaned in closer, letting the tip of her chin brush Laura’s shoulder, her hands bracing lightly at Laura’s sides to keep balance. Then, in one audacious, controlled motion, she lifted slightly on her tiptoes and slammed her chest down again, driving the flattening, mushrooming pressure even further. Laura’s arms flailed, shoulders trembling, nipples pressed painfully inward, each second a cruel reminder of Dove’s dominance. The audience gasped at the sheer precision—the way Dove had taken a fleeting opening and turned it into a complete, unyielding hold, leaving Laura utterly trapped and humiliated.

Laura’s gasp cuts sharp as Dove slams down again, crushing her 32B’s beneath the relentless weight of Dove’s 34C’s. Every nerve burns, every muscle strains—her arms shake, shoulders buckle, and she can’t move. Dove’s chest pins, twists, and flattens with brutal precision, driving Laura to the edge of surrender. Pain sears through her body as Dove leans harder, every subtle shift a merciless reminder: she’s completely under Dove’s control.

Laura’s defiance crumbled under Dove’s merciless grip. Her arms trembled violently, chest smashed and unyielding beneath Dove’s relentless 34C’s. Every feeble attempt to lift, twist, or roll was met with crushing counterpressure, each movement magnifying the pain. Dove’s calculated shifts—pressing, leaning, squeezing—left Laura helpless, trapped, and gasping, her stubbornness teetering on the edge of complete surrender.

Laura’s face twisted in agony, eyes clamped shut as she fought to suppress the tears. One slipped free, carving a trail down her cheek. A second followed, then a third, each marking the relentless assault on her resolve. Her knees wobbled uncontrollably, muscles trembling, as Dove’s unyielding weight and precise, crushing hold drove her stubborn spirit toward the edge, threatening to shatter completely.

Dove’s eyes blazed with hatred, every inch of her body pushing Laura toward total submission. She leaned in, shoulders rolling with calculated precision, crushing Laura’s small, once-proud 32B’s beneath the weight of her 34C’s. Each subtle shift of her chest, each deliberate press against Laura’s ribs sent fresh, searing jolts of pain through the smaller woman. Laura’s gasps were ragged, strangled, helpless—her once-firm breasts completely flattened, distorted, mushrooming outward under Dove’s merciless leverage. Dove’s grip didn’t ease; each second was a calculated lesson in domination, a personal vendetta for every jab, every taunt Laura had thrown. The UCC veteran, famed for her toughness, now trembled helplessly, pinned, humiliated, and completely at the mercy of Dove’s precise, relentless control. Every added heartbeat of torment reinforced the truth—there was no escape, no mercy, only Dove’s triumph.

Laura’s body shook violently, every muscle straining under the relentless, punishing weight of Dove’s chest. Her breaths came in ragged, desperate gasps, tears streaming down her cheeks. Finally, the pain became unbearable, sharp and blinding, searing through every nerve ending. “FINE! FINE! You win, you stupid b!tch!” she screamed, her voice raw, ****, and nearly strangled by the agony. But Dove didn’t relent—her chest pressed down, rolling and crushing, breasts mauling Laura’s mercilessly, each motion a statement of dominance and revenge. The smaller woman’s arms flailed uselessly, shoulders trembling, as Dove savored every second of control, pressing harder, twisting just enough to prolong Laura’s torment, until the referee finally stepped in, signaling the end of the devastating round.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” the referee bellowed, stomping forward, his face red with anger. “I said she has had ENOUGH!” Dove finally relented, lifting slightly and easing the crushing pressure as the official yanked her back. Laura collapsed onto her hands and knees, trembling violently, sobs wracking her body. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she tried—and failed—to steady herself. Her muscles quivered from exhaustion, her chest still flattened and tender from Dove’s merciless hold. Pride and humiliation warred in her mind; she dared not glance down at her own distorted breasts, knowing full well the complete and utter domination she had just suffered.

Winner of th Breast Battle: Dove Cameron!

Dove lingered above her fallen rival, a cruel smirk twisting her lips as she let Laura absorb the full weight of defeat. She flexed her arms, then delivered sharp, calculated kicks to Laura’s ribs, forcing her to lay flat on her back. Dove’s chest rose and fell with triumphant satisfaction as she glanced down, reveling in the complete domination. With deliberate cruelty, she lifted her foot and pressed it firmly onto Laura’s chest, pinning her beneath the symbol of her victory. Laura lay there, utterly broken, chest still aching from the relentless assault, the sting of humiliation burning hotter than any pain. She had had a chance, and now the realization hit her—this brutal, punishing breast battle had been hers to claim, and she had let it slip away.

“You better show up tomorrow, Laura,” Dove spat, her voice sharp and dripping with malice as she pressed her foot across Laura’s battered chest, slowly sliding it from one flattened breast to the other. “I hope you’re not planning on using those squashed little puppies as an excuse.” She let out a cruel, high-pitched snicker, leaning down just enough to watch Laura’s face contort with a mix of pain, shame, and helpless fury. The message was clear: Dove hadn’t just won—she’d humiliated her rival completely, and she intended to make sure Laura remembered every second in ther upcoming winner take all MMA match.

Post Fight:

As she straightened and stepped off the mat with the crowd roaring, she caught Laura’s voice like a knife through the noise: “You’ll pay for that in the cage. I’ll beat you to a quivering pulp.” It landed hard — not because it changed what had just happened, but because it reframed the loss as a promise of something bigger and nastier to come.

Dove’s first instinct was a slow, small smile — the kind a fighter gives when she knows she’s rattled someone. For a heartbeat she let the taunt sit in the air; she could feel the adrenaline tick under her skin, the ref’s hand at her shoulder, the crowd still buzzing. Around them corners were already arguing, trainers fuming, cameras zooming. Promoters leaned in, eyes bright. The threat didn’t intimidate so much as it sharpened everything: this wasn’t just one victory anymore, it was the opening salvo in a feud that would get settled under very different rules.

Dove didn’t give Laura the satisfaction of a shout back. Instead she let her body language do the work — a calm, measured flex of her biceps, one long look down at Laura, then a turn and a walk away as if the next chapter were a foregone conclusion. Still, inside she catalogued the words: motivation, not complacency. Her corner closed around her; her coaches already started talking about the cage match Laura had promised, the different training it would require, the holes in Laura’s game Dove wanted to exploit next time.

Security moved to keep the two from escalating. Laura’s words echoed in the room and on social feeds for hours, but so did Dove’s silence and the way she left the mat standing tall. If anything, the threat ensured one thing: neither woman would ever treat the other lightly again.

Inside the Locker Room – Laura Marano

Locker room lights hummed over metal benches and steaming showers. The muffled roar of the arena still pulsed through the walls, a distant reminder of what had just happened out there. Laura sat on the bench, towel around her waist and an ice pack pressed to her sternum. Her chest still ached from the bear-hug; the bruises under her ribs were hot and raw. She watched the replay on a phone brought in by one of the corner team — the camera angle lingered on the moment she’d lost control — and the image made something in her harden.

“Unacceptable,” she said, voice low and tight. She set the phone down and stood, each movement careful, as if testing her body’s response. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Vanessa, her sister, moved in first, the cool hand of family as much a comfort as a check. “Breathe, Laura. You took a beating — you did what you had to do to get back to your feet. You’re alive, you’re whole. You need a day to recover and we’ll plan the next move.”

Laura’s jaw clenched. She hated the pause that recovery required. “A day? A day is for people who lose gracefully. I don’t lose. She humiliated me in front of everyone. She made a show of it. That stays on my record unless I fix it.”

A pause, then Katherine — calm, precise — sat opposite her and folded her hands. “You’re not wrong to be upset,” she said. “But anger’s a tool, not a weapon by itself. We’ll take that fuel and turn it into an edge. You heal tonight. Tomorrow we analyze, we sharpen,then we beat that over-confident b!tch.”

Ariana, who had been watching the exchange with a steady, hungry grin, leaned forward like someone who loved the whole ritual as much as the fight itself — the prep, the trash talk, the hit. “You know what I think?” she said, eyes bright. “I think Dove just lit a match under you. Good. Matches make fires. I know how to bat her. I already took her apart in the cage, and tomorrow I’ll show you every one of her weak spots.”

Laura let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “You don’t get it,” she said, voice low. “This wasn’t just a loss. It was a message — that I can be read, timed, controlled. I can’t let that stand. I’ll go back in the cage and settle it where the rules favor me — where I know how to finish people.”

Vanessa stepped closer, hands on Laura’s shoulders. “You’ve still got the MMA match, promise,” she said quietly. “You’re stronger there. Your skillset is built for that environment. But if you rush back in raw and angry, that’s exactly what she wants. Let’s make the plan, not the mistake.”

The ice pack left a bright line where it had been. Laura’s hands flattened against her knees as if to anchor herself. She closed her eyes, the tightness around them deepening. The locker room smelled of antiseptic and sweat and the faint metallic tang of adrenaline. She let out the breath Vanessa didn’t know she’d been holding.

“I know what I’m doing,” Laura said at last, quieter but with a steel edge that left no room for argument. “I’ll heal. I’ll change the variables. I’ll take the cage on my terms. And when she walks into that space, she won’t be gloating. She’ll be looking at the end of what she started tonight.”

Ariana’s smile widened, this time without showiness. “Good. We like that. Fight smart, fight hard. We get you ready, and then we take that promise she made and make it hers.”

Katherine stood, pulling a rolled towel from the shelf and handing it to Laura. “Sleep now,” she said. “Ice, food, an hour of film tomorrow morning, then back to work. We’ll break down your last cage fight with Dove and with Ariana's help, there is no way you can lose.”

Laura nodded once. The anger still glowed in her, but it slotted itself neatly into a shape she recognized: focus. She slid the towel over her shoulder and glanced once toward the doorway where, beyond the curtained exit, reporters and the press zone waited like a second arena.
Laura stood then, steadied herself on the bench, feeling the ache in her chest as a map of punishment and lesson. She walked toward the curtain, her gait even, her plan already forming in the quiet calculus of a fighter who refused to be defined by a single loss.

Inside the Locker Room – Dove Cameron

Dove sat on the bench, a towel draped over her shoulders, one hand still tingling from the fight and the other wrapped around a cold drink. Her hair clung damp to the back of her neck, but the grin on her face was electric—pure victory. Debby Ryan was first to approach, punching the air in a playful salute. “That was epic,” she laughed, eyes still wide. “You shut that mouth when it counted. I swear I felt the whole arena flip the second you turned it on.”

Alyson Michalka came up beside Debby, shaking her head in admiration. “Flattened her out like a pancake,” she said, the compliment sounding ridiculous and perfect in the same breath. “You timed it, you rode the momentum—perfect execution. That reversal? Chef’s kiss.”

Olivia Rodrigo lingered in the doorway, arms folded, eyes scanning Dove the way a coach checks a player after a big play. “That was insane,” she said, then softened. “But be careful about what happens next—Laura’s the kind of person who gets mean when her back is against the wall. Don’t take her promise as empty. She’s dangerous like a cornered animal.”

Dove’s grin sharpened, private and assured. “Let me handle her,” she said quietly, steady rather than boastful. “Tonight wasn’t for show — I needed that win to earn the cage. That message is sent. If she wants to take it up a level in the cage later, that’s a different fight for a different night. Right now I walk away with exactly what I came for.”

Debby reached over and squeezed Dove’s shoulder. “We know you do. But Olivia’s right—we have to be smart. The win is huge, but there’s the long game. You don’t want a petty grudge ruining the next chapter.”

Alyson chimed in with practical warmth. “Make sure you cool down slow, eat something, ice the ribs, and rest. Celebrate tonight, but not recklessly.” She looked at Dove with the mixture of sisterly concern and admiration that only teammates can muster. “You were flawless when it counted.”

Olivia folded forward on her elbows, voice softening. “Remember how she got with me—she’s scrappy when she’s cornered. She’ll try unconventional stuff to throw you off. That’s not a reason to be scared—just to be ready. We’ll tighten whatever we need to tighten for that cage match.”

Dove laughed, low and confident. “I appreciate the caution, but I’m not scared of Laura. If anything, this fuels me. She comes at me the wrong way in that cage, she’ll find out why I accepted the challenge.” She set her drink down and let out a long breath, the glow of victory settling into a quiet, focused resolve. “I’ve beaten her where she thought she had the advantage. That changes the math. People forget that momentum swings.”

Olivia rubbed the back of her neck, the protective friend, the one who watches the big picture. “Good. We’ll book the recovery tonight and the plan for tomorrow. But you promise me—no running at her raw anger. We train smarter than that.” Her eyes flashed with a promise: if Laura wanted a fight in the cage, they’d make sure Dove walked into a smarter opponent than the one that nearly got her tonight.

Dove nodded. “Deal. I’ll rest tonight. Tomorrow we film, we break down the match, and we work the counters. I didn’t win to get sloppy. I won to make sure the next time the stakes are higher, I’m even higher.”

The three friends drifted closer, a tight, laughing huddle of support. Debby mimed a dramatic bows-and-arrows salute. “To the queen of tonight,” she said, grinning. “But remember—we sharpen edges in private. Public victories are sweet, but the rematch is where the story gets writtenand you burry Laura Marano once and for all.”

Alyson winked. “We’ll be in your corner—film sessions, drills, cardio hell—whatever it takes. You had the heart and the grit tonight. We’ll give you the polish tomorrow.”

Olivia reached out and squeezed Dove’s hand. “We got you,” she said. “You did something huge out there. Be proud. Then let’s get to work.”

Dove’s chest rose in a long breath. She looked at each of them—friends, corner, team—and something like a smile softened her face. “Okay,” she said. “One celebration tonight. Hard work tomorrow. And the cage? If she wants that war, she’s not going to find me unprepared.”

They stayed in the locker room a little longer—photos, a few more congratulations, and some practical talk about recovery routines—then filed out together, the noise of the arena behind them and the electric sense that this fight had only written the first page of a much longer story.

Written by the Badass Barbies

The Final Verdict

Round 2 -  Bikini Oil Wrestling

Laura’s Locker Room
Laura Marano sat with her head in her hands looking dejected.

Vanessa Marano:  Come on Laura sit up and get yourself together.  You have 3 more competitions and you can beat Dove.

Laura Marano:  Oh back off Vanessa, That was my competition to win.  How did I lose an arm wrestling match to that pencil Dove Cameron. 
 
Kiernan Shipka:  No disrespect Laura but Dove got under your skin and she capitalized on you getting frustrated.

Katherine McNamara:  That’s right Laura, She had you dead to rights.  I have never seen you like that Laura,  But now you have to get it together like you did when you and I boxed a few weeks ago.

Vanessa Marano:  That’s right Laura.  We all know how tough you are but that was then and this is Dove Cameron.

Forget that it’s in the oil pit.  You had Dove beat in that competition and you can do it again. 
 
Kiernan Shipka:  You can do this Laura.  But not like this.  You have to get over this loss. 
 
Katherine McNamara:  You know this as well Laura.  Get this one off your mind and concentrate on beating Dove. 

Laura Marano:  Its easier said than done Kat.  This is Dove Cameron and she is undefeated in the Oil Pit. 

Kiernan Shipka:  Forget that Laura.  If it hadn’t been for that referee, you would have won that match.

Vanessa Marano:  With that said Laura get your game face on and get in your bikini its time to get to the pit.

Dove Cameron Locker Room

Alyson Michalka:  Wow that was incredible Dove.  You destroyed Laura in Arm Wrestling and now you have her in the oil pit and we all know that is your best event. 
 
Dove Cameron:  That is true Alyson.  I thought she had me several times and she tried everything to beat me in Arm Wrestling.  She chose that competition and I beat her

Joey King:  But this is Laura Marano, Dove.  You cant let up just because you are undefeated in the Oil Pit. 

Dove Cameron:  Don’t worry Joey I have her number.  I beat her once in the pit and I can do it again.  I know that she is rattled after that arm wrestling event and when I am through with her in the Pit, Laura will be done.  I will beat her in the Oil Pit. 
 
Joey King:  She had you beaten in that first Oil match.  You tapped out and we all saw it except for the referee.  We had the referee distracted and you were able to fight free and beat her.  Don’t take this lightly Dove.
Dove Cameron:  Are you telling me that I didn’t win that match Joey.  I can beat Laura in the Oil Pit anytime and any day. 
 
Joey: All I am saying is not to take Laura lightly.  We all know that she might be the toughest fighter in the league. 

Dove: If you aren’t confident in me Joey, then I don’t need you in my corner.

Joey looking confused and upset left the locker room and Dove got ready for the Oil match. 
 
A couple of minutes later the two former Disney stars head to the Pit for the official announcement.

Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome back to the MGM Grand here in Las Vegas where we will soon see who is the better fighter, Laura Marano or Dove Cameron.  This one will be a real war and we have already seen Dove stun Laura in an Arm Wrestling competition.  Now its time to get oiled up and square off in the Oil Pit.  This will be a best 2 of 3 fall battle in their bikinis.  To get those results there will be a max of 3 Five minute rounds and a fall is won by pin.  The referee for this match has only one task and that is to score the fall when one of the girls scores a pin.  So without any further words lets get the girls oiled down and get to the action. 
 
Dove Cameron:  Hey Laura it looks like you are going down 2-0 right from the start.  I don’t hear you mouthing off about how you are going to bet me. 
 
Laura glared at Dove and Vanessa moved in front of Laura to keep her from saying anything back to her opponent. 
Dove Cameron:  What's wrong Laura, cat got your tongue.  Or are you finally realizing that you are not as good as you have always claimed. 
 
Laura had heard enough and lunged at Dove landing a stinging slap to the face and instantly the two locked into one another’s hair and excitingly toppled into the pit.  Everyone stepped back and the referee called for the bell as the two were obviously going at it. Their seconds emptied their bottles of oil into the pit and let the two go at it.  The two twisted excitingly and the crowd erupted with cheers as Laura and Dove tore into one another. 

Dove was able to gain a slight advantage as she got her right arm around Laura’s neck and flipped her onto her back.  Then holding Laura down by her hair, Dove scored the first point of the bout by pinning Laura while sitting on her chest and digging her knees into Laura’s shoulders. Laura struggled briefly but the referee pounded the mat signaling the first point.

Referee: Point scored for Dove Cameron at the 45 second mark of the first round.  Dove leads 1-0

Dove twisted quickly off of and away from Laura who twisted the opposite direction with a couple of tears streaming down her cheeks. 
 
Dove Cameron:  Ohh poor Laura.  See how easy this is.  I thought you were tougher than this.  Do something, I need some competition.

Without a word, Laura lunged at Dove and latched onto her blond hair.  Dove fought back, grabbing at Laura’s darker blond hair and the two struggled on their knees.  Thoth e crowd urged the two on in their battle.  Dove slipped when Laura drove into her and all Dove could do was latch onto an underhook chinlock that over a few long few seconds, forced Laura face down to the mats.  Laura looked in serious trouble as both were very slippery and hard to maintain any kind of hold but this one looked to hurt Laura. 

Dove though lost her grip as she reared back to exert more pressure and fell backwards.  Laura twisted around quickly and tried to pin Dove who twisted away and the two got tangled up and started twisting around quickly and aggressively.  There was very little to grab onto that wasn’t slick with the oil and this added to the action as the two twisted and grappled for the advantage.  Tempers seemed to flare a bit as the spectators cheered the two on and the two responded to those cheers. Dove twisted on top briefly but Laura hooked her right arm around Dove’s thigh as she bridged Dove and somehow managed to flip Dove over onto her back.  Again Laura tried to pin Dove but the blond twisted into Laura and wrestled her onto her back. 

Laura got her left arm under Dove’s arm and struggled to twist Dove off of her. Dove used her legs to straddle and trap Laura to the mats.  Laura realized her predicament and bridged Dove.  The tight struggle continued as the seconds ticked by and Laura was able to twist Dove over nearly onto her back when the bell sounded to end the round. The referee struggled to separate the two but upon succeeding Laura tried to say that she had scored a pin but the Referee said no way as the bell had already sounded.  Katherine McNamara continued to talk to the referee about the situation but the referee was not having it and Katherine went back to help get Laura ready for round 2.  At the same time Dove was in her corner with a smile on her face. 
 
Dove Cameron:  Hey Katherine after I am through wiping the mat with Laura maybe you and me might have a problem.

Katherine glared at Dove but did not respond. 
 
Round 2: Both girls were wiped down and fresh oil squirted on their bodies. The referee signaled for the bell and both moved away from their corners on their knees.  Dove slipped and nearly fell into Laura who pulled Dove into a headlock and twisted her to the mat.  Dove responded quickly as she rolled into Laura and twisted her to her backside in a near pin situation.  Laura kicked free and rolled Dove back down but in the process Laura lost her hold on Dove’s head and Dove drove into Laura burying her shoulder into Laura’s midsection and dropping her to the mat.  Laura managed to bring up her knees into Dove’s body and monkey flipped her to her back.  Dove gasped as her breath left her and Laura mounted and straddled Dove pinning her to the mat.  The referee scored the fall and addressed the crowd.

Referee: Laura has scored her first point and the score is tied at 1
Dove slowly made it up to her knees to face Laura and the two lunged at one another aggressively.  Both girls slipped on the slippery surface and latched onto one another’s hair.  Laura ducked into Dove and showed some incredible agility as she twisted Dove into another slam to the slippery canvas.  Dove was stunned but Laura instead of finishing Dove off had a few words for her rival.

Laura Marano:  Whats wrong Dove don’t tell me you are done already. 
 
Dove Cameron:  Its not over yet Laura. 

With that Dove drove a heavy backhand to the side of Laura’s head and twisted her over.  Laura had enough to twist onto her side before Dove could trap her and caught Dove in a side headlock before slipping onto the canvas.  Dove tried to twist her onto her back but Laura got her legs around Dove and locked them in place squeezing with all she could.  Dove retaliated with a vicious elbow across Laura’s thigh that forced Miss Marano to loosen the leglock holding her thigh in pain.  Dove smiled as she attacked Laura’s weakened leg. 

The crowd chanted Dove’s name as they sensed the end was near.  Dove moved in and went for an ankle lock to weaken Laura even more.  Before Dove could lock the hold in, Laura kicked at her and sent Dove to the canvas with a glancing heel kick.  Dove fell to the mats and Laura leaped on her.  The two twisted around aggressively and the chants for Dove turned to chants for Laura.  Both were now starting to feel the strain of the action when the bell sounded to end the second round with the score still tied at one point each.  The referee sent the two to their corners warning them that this was pin wrestling and not submission wrestling. 
 
Laura Marano:  Ill do whatever it takes to beat Dove in this pit.

Dove Cameron:  Same here Laura.  So its anything goes this next round. 
 
Their corners tried to talk sense into Laura and Dove but to no avail as both were determined to destroy one another.  The referee looked to both corners and you could feel the tension.  The referee motioned for the bell and then at Laura and Dove and motioned for the two to engage.

Dove Cameron:  Come on Laura its time to finish this part and then I will end our feud. 
 
Laura slid into the pit and quickly locked up with Dove.  Laura ducked into Dove and drove into Dove’s midsection.  Dove doubled over Laura trying to force Laura face down but Laura lifted Dove off the canvas and dropped her over with a nice firemans carry takedown and went for a pin but Dove was ready and twisted Laura down and trapped her with her 32C breasts smothering Laura;s face with them.  Laura broke free by landing a nasty hook into one of Doves breasts and Dove squealed in pain and rage as Laura twisted her over onto her back and pinned her allowing the referee to score the pin.

Referee: Laura Marano has scored her second point and leads 2-1

The referee motioned for the bout to continue and Dove was not happy. Dove lunged into Laura tackling her to her backside and pummeling her with hard fists.  Laura fought back as she tried to ward Dove off with her legs and managed to kick Dove back with her legs.   Laura twisted around and lunged at Dove who caught Laura with a side headlock and flipped Laura to the canvas.  Dove then dwarfed Laura with her 32C breasts and pinned her to the canvas. 
 
Referee: Dove has scored her second point and again the score is tied 2-2

Dove: Just one more point wins it Laura do you think you can take me.

The two closed in and locked up Dove yanked Laura hard off balance by her hair and leaped on her for the second time going for another breast smother pin.  Laura raked her claws in the tender flesh and Dove twisted away squealing in pain.

Dove: You dirty little cheat! You shouldn't have done that Laura now you will pay for your insolence. 

The oil-slick pit glistened under the overhead lights, the crowd roaring as the two exhausted women slid and scrambled. Dove was spent, her movements sluggish, her strength fading fast after the grueling struggle. Laura, sensing victory, twisted her hips with practiced ease and forced the blonde flat onto her back, straddling her chest. Dove pawed weakly at her rival, but her arms slipped uselessly over Laura’s slick frame.

With a cruel smirk, Laura leaned forward and seized a handful of Dove’s oily blonde hair, yanking her face up. Then, with deliberate force, she pulled Dove’s head tight into her modest but firm 32B breasts, pressing down until the oil created a perfect seal. Dove let out a muffled gasp, her legs kicking in desperation, her arms clawing at the mat.
The crowd’s cheers built into a deafening chant as Laura rolled her shoulders forward, smothering with ruthless precision. Dove’s struggles grew frantic, her muffled cries echoing under the slick flesh pressing against her mouth and nose. Laura adjusted her grip, grinding Dove’s face deeper, holding her hair tight as the blonde’s body began to weaken.

Finally, Dove’s resistance melted away. Her limbs fell limp, smothered out cold beneath Laura’s oily chest as the referee counted Dove out for the final time.

Laura held the smother until Dove's team screamed at the referee to break the lock then finally twisted away from Dove as her team lifted her from the pit and the cheers erupted from the Aries team.  Dove on the other hand was helped out of the pit and toweled off a bit before she shrugged away and stormed to the locker room pushing chairs out of her way angrily.

The referee seized Laura’s slick wrist and lifted it high.

“The winner — three falls to two — Laura Marano!!”

The crowd erupted as Laura beamed triumphantly, oil dripping from her hair and body. Dove lay on the mat, chest heaving, her eyes glazed with exhaustion and defeat.

Moments later, inside Dove’s locker room, the atmosphere was far quieter. Dove sat slumped on the bench, still glistening with oil, a towel draped over her shoulders. Her chest rose and fell heavily, strands of damp blonde hair sticking to her flushed face. The sting of Laura’s breasts still lingered on her lips and nose, a humiliating reminder of how Laura had dominated and ended the match.

Alyson Michalka:  What happened out there Dove.  This was your match to win and take a commanding 2-0 lead in your best of 5 series with Laura. 
 
Joey King:  Yeah Dove you let us down.

Before Dove could respond.

Hunter King screamed for Joey to chill out. She did her best, Laura just had an answer for everything Dove did.  It wasn't her night. Laura wasn't going to lose.

Dove Cameron:  And I don’t remember you being able to do anything with Laura in your battles.  So just back away and let me get ready for the next challenge.

From Laura’s locker room

Vanessa Marano:  You did it Laura you beat Dove in her best event.
Katherine McNamara:  You did great Laura now you can finish her off with wrestling in  lingerie. You already beat her in Apartment Wrestling before, you can do it again.

Laura Marano:  I got this. Then I can prove that my breasts are every bit as tough as hers. Dove tried to finish me with her 32C and guess what? I finished her with my 32B's.  I can finish her with the next two bouts and not have to fret about having a match in the cage. 


Katherine McNamara:  Even if it goes to the cage you can take her Laura, We have faith in you.

The lights fade away as preparations are made for the next challenge in this war of attrition.

Written by the Awesome Aries