Shannen looked across the dressing room at her sister, as she slowly and methodically squeezed the small grip strengthener, deliberate in compressing the handheld stress reliever, and equally deliberate in releasing the spring. Dirty Cathy Dennehy switched hands and slowly began compressing the spring, her mind a thousand miles away as she prepared herself mentally for what promised to be one of the most callous and brutal matches she would ever fight.

�So which one first, the boobs or the crotch?� Shannen asked, breaking the stillness.

�Huh?� Cathy asks, her mind settling back into the low lit dressing room.

�Which one first? You gonna slap that claw on her boobs or her crotch first?� Shannen asked again, pointing at Cathy�s squuuuuuueeeeeezzzing hand, and slow release.

�Ohhhh�that.� Cathy quickly drops the spring powered grip back into her bag. �Ohhhh�I think Chrissy�s love box needs a little adjustment, but those boobs�they�re hard to miss.�

�I think I am beginning to hate the wait almost as much as you, Cath,� Shannen muttered, listening to the raucous crowd cheering and booing the match going on outside. �We�re the big show tonight�title match and all,� Shannen added for no one in particular. The Dirty Dennehy sisters fall silent again, calm and collected.

Rubbing in a little baby oil, onto her calves, Shannen adds, �Come�on, Sis�the MIA Missy and the Killer Gimp are going to be crying when the nights over.� Rubbing a little oil higher on her inner thigh, Shannen adds in a breathy, sexy, tone, �I can already feel Missy�s little weasel face nuzzled in between my long, thighs, just like Kylie, and her nose up against my��

�Yeah�yeah�I know�I just hate waiting,� Cathy interrupts, also pleasantly visualizing Chrissy�s face as it disappears between her own legs in a match ending face sit. Cracking a rare pre-match smile, she adds, �Those belts are gonna look good over the fireplace.�

�Right next to the one you got over in Japan, or the one in Australia, or that red one by the�� Shannen piped in.

�Nope,� Cathy cuts in. �Those all come down and go in the garage. There�s only two belts going on the mantle, and one of those two are hanging around a rather rotund waist, and the other� well�blondie will get hers tonight, I gar-un-tee,� Cathy deadpans, returning from her visualization.

Standing, Cathy walks to the mirror, lifts her scuffed white boots to the wooden bench, and bends at the waist to retie them. Satisfied, she runs her hand up her smooth, creamy white thigh to firm butt. A baby blue thong barely covers the subject in front and does nothing to conceal her backside. Straightening up, she again faces the mirror, adjusting her single ponytail, tightening it a little, and brushing back a few stands of jet black hair. Her baby blue sports bra barely covers her medium sized breasts, but the peaks of her small nipples, pressing against the semi see through material, are clearly visible.

She looks back over her shoulder, at Shannen standing behind her, tanned, a full head taller and 20 pound heavier. Her sister�s golden brown and blonde hair is tied back in an identical pony tail, and she wears a nearly identical outfit, except in black. Looking up and down her own frame, Shannen is pleased with her dirty blonde hair and wide appealing face. Her full bosom, again barely constrained despite Janzen SportsBra�s best efforts. As her eyes trail down her tanned body, she hesitates at the tiny patch of cloth covering her womanhood. Growing more and more used to the �less is more� mantra throughout FAWN, she snapped her waistband, and gave herself a twirl in front of the mirror.

�Do you have the uhhh�� Cathy asks.

But before Cathy can finish her sentence, Shannen steps in, �I got all the little nasties you gave me.� Reaching down, she runs her hand over her boot, feeling the place she had roughened with sandpaper. �No foreign objects this time, nothin' they can use against us.�

The knock comes to the door. �ONE MINUTE LADIES!�

Shannen turns and heads for the door, her butterflies forgotten. Cathy turns for the door too, heading out to the ring behind her suddenly brazen sister. Seeing her sister�s now confident stride, Cathy adds quietly, �Remember last time. Remember how much you hated them. Remember how much you wanted to hurt them, and let it all out tonight.�

Shannen turns holding up her fist, for a little knuckle knock.

�No prisoners.�

It didn�t take long for the Dennehy Sisters to reach the ring, sans the fanfare of so many of the other FAWN stars. And it took even less time from when Cathy and Shannen entered the ring to when the champs made their entrance.

The opening chords of "Pretty Woman" tear through the arena's speaker system as Chrissy and Missy Daniel step through the curtain and march confidently down to the ring. Missy's gleaming tag belt worn proudly around her waist, the ultimate accent to the black pleather bikini she wore. Her younger sister, the Killer Imp, Chrissy Daniel has her belt slung over her shoulder, partially obscuring the same studded leather bikini she wore during her destruction of Shea London a few weeks ago.

The champs strut to the ring with their typical haughtiness, both playing to the cheering and jeering throng. Chrissy enters the ring first, apparently somewhat disinterested, now. She tosses her belt to the referee and yawns as Missy enters and warms up by tugging on the ropes.

Both teams take a moment to discuss strategy, while the ref holds the tag belts aloft, drawing a loud cheer from the fans. This seems to prompt the two teams that final step before the battle, and in opposite corners, Missy and Cathy exit the ring. Moving out of their corners, FAWN�s arguably fastest rising youngster warily eyes the former World champion.

DING! DING! DING!

Moving toward the center of the ring, the Killer Imp is unflinching, inviting the towering blonde to lock up with her. On the one hand, Shannen knows Chrissy�s reputation, and also knows first hand just what Chrissy was capable of. On the other hand, she still dwarfed the Beach Cat handily. And so, with a confident smirk, she accepts the invitation.

Mistake number one.

Quickly, Chrissy Daniel ensnares Shannen in hammerlock, slipping around behind the blonde Amazon and wrenching her arm as much as possible. Shannen grimaces, using her free arm to swipe out behind her, over her shoulder. And in this instance, Chrissy�s height�or lack thereof�serves to her advantage, inhibiting the blonde Amazon from being able to grasp her prey.

With a few more moments to work, no doubt Shannen would have found a portion of her rival�s body to grasp. But Chrissy was as well aware of that as the Shady One, and skillfully sweeps Shannen�s legs out from under her. As Dennehy tumbles to the mat, frantically trying to bring her free arm back in front of her to absorb the fall, Chrissy drops with her. The hammerlock still in place, the Killer Imp rests on her knees beside the fallen blonde.

But she doesn�t stay there long.

With one hand gripping Shannen�s wrist, Chrissy places her second on the blonde�s back to steady herself. Once ready, the Beach Cat pushes herself airborne. Not too height and not too far, but just enough to allow her to drive her knees into the small of Dennehy�s back, just under her captive arm. Shannen moans as the bony joints grind into her tender flesh.

�What�s that?� Chrissy taunts. �Encore?� Shannen pleads softly, but to no avail, Chrissy repeating the kneedrop with equally effective and painful results.

Nonchalantly, Chrissy returns to her feet, dragging Shannen up with her by her hair. Backing Dennehy into the ropes, she begins an Irish whip, but finds herself unable to finish it. Instead, the blonde applies the breaks, reversing the whip and sending Chrissy for a ride.

But one good turn deserves another. Putting her impressive agility on display, Daniel hops into the middle rope, launching herself back at a stunned Shannen and dropping her back to the mat with a cross bodyblock. A hook of the leg might have netted the Killer Imp a two or even a three count. Instead she simply lies draped across her foe in lackadaisical fashion, and Dennehy is quickly able to kick out following the count of one.

As Shannen tries to clear the cobwebs, Chrissy stifles a yawn in utterly exaggerated fashion. Climbing to her feet, she advances on the younger Dennehy sister, intending to drag her up to her feet again. This time, though, Shannen counters from her knees with a punch to the midsection that staggers the Beach Cat. A second gut punch doubles Chrissy over, and the blonde pushes herself up to her feet.

But even this brief pause is enough to allow Chrissy to recover, just enough to strike Shannen with a truly Dennehy-esque attack: an uppercut straight between the legs. Now it�s Shannen who doubles over, her knees knocking as her hands shoot between her legs, pivoting away from the Killer Imp.

Chrissy turned to her corner, slapping her sister�s eagerly extended hand. �Your turn.�

�With pleasure.�

Slipping through the ropes, the elder Daniel charges at the hunched over blonde Amazon. Leaving her feet, Missy grabs the back of Shannen�s head as she sails by, drilling her face first into the canvas with a bulldog that leaves Shannen face down, her right leg twitching, but showing few other signs of life. �Did you REALLY think this time would be any different?� Missy asks in a breezy voice over her shoulder.

Leisurely, Missy gets back to her feet, dragging Shannen up with her. For the second time in the match, a Daniel sister attempts to whip Shannen into the ropes. And for a second time, Shannen manages to reverse it. This time, however, there would be no further counter, and Dennehy drives Missy into the mat with a ring-shaking spinebuster.

The taller blonde rises to her hands and knees, her thighs between Missy�s parted legs. �So ungrateful,� Shannen pants. �Don�t forget how you won those belts. Just remember: the Dennehys giveth, and the Dennehys taketh away.�

Standing, Shannen peels Missy off the mat, and then pulls the dazed blonde into a rib-crushing bearhug. Reflexively, Missy�s gams wrap around Shannen�s waist, and a further constriction of Dennehy�s arms causing Missy to throw her head back as she moans in anguish.

Shannen offers a brief glance over her shoulder at Chrissy in her corner. �Damn, this girl�s is heavy,� she taunts. �How can your back support carrying her dead weight around?�

Chrissy scowls, but remains tethered to her corner.

Not waiting for an answer, Shannen instead charges into the opposite corner, sandwiching her foe�s body between her own and the turnbuckles. The air almost explodes from Missy�s lungs, a process a made easier by Dennehy releasing her bearhug. But rather than granting Missy a respite, the Dennehy Sisters are merely changing tactics. For the first time, Dirty Cathy enters the battle, looping the tag rope around Missy�s throat and yanking back.

Missy�s eyes bulge, threatening to pop from their sockets as Cathy chokes the life from her. In the ring, Shannen takes a step backward, and then begins firing punches to the cornered blonde�s belly with piston-like precision.

Across the ring, Chrissy continues to seethe. But her response is more than a little surprising. Rather than charge into the ring or berate the official for not doing his job, Chrissy instead tears into her sister! �Come on, Jell-o Brains,� she shouts at Missy. �I gave Shannen to you on a silver platter, and already you�ve screwed us up!�

Shannen chuckles cruelly, continuing to land punch after punch to Missy�s wide open midsection, Daniel�s hands too preoccupied with prying the tag rope loose from her throat to offer any defense. Instead, she finds her savior in the referee, whose count reaching four prompts both Dennehy women to cease their assaults.

Now free, Missy sags quickly to her backside, wheezing and clutching at her burning windpipe. Shannen reaches over Missy�s body to tag her sister into the match, and the diminutive brunette legally enters the contest for the first time.

Taking a firm grip on Missy�s mane, she drags the elder Daniel to her knees. Placing Missy�s throat against the middle rope, Cathy presses her knees into the blonde�s shoulder blades. Once more, Missy�s eyes widen, her tongue protruding from between her lips as Dennehy pulls up on the steel cable.

�C�mon, Cathy,� the referee chides her. �Keep it clean!�

Cathy�s response is two fold. First, she laughs. Then, she scoots herself a little further up Missy�s back, her shins now pressing Missy into the rope, and her whole body weight now coming down on the trapped beach fighter.

Another four count passes before Missy can again draw an unencumbered breath. �I�m glad you know your numbers,� Cathy sneers, pulling a gagging Missy up off the mat. �Wanna tell me your ABC�s next?�

Grabbing Missy�s wrist, Cathy Dennehy sends the winded tag team champion for another ride, Missy too engrossed in her own need for oxygen to counter or prepare for the next assault: namely, an arm snaking around her throat as she rebounds back to the diminutive brunette. Cathy finishes securing the sleeper, crisply and efficiently, Missy Daniel�s arms immediately thrashing as the blood flow to her brain is restricted.

Cathy entwines her legs around Missy�s sweat-slicked waist, once more forcing the blonde to support her weight. Ordinarily, carrying someone as slight as Dirty Cathy would have proven easy for Missy. But after the abuse she had already taken, Daniel�s legs begin to strain and buckle almost immediately.

Cathy cinches the sleeper a little tighter. The gold was so close now, she could taste it. As Missy sways and staggers, fighting a futile battle to keep her balance, Cathy leans her head closer to the blonde�s. �Say good night, Blondie,� she whispers. �But don�t worry. My Cat�s Claw will make sure you don�t oversleep.�

Whether by luck or by design is unclear, but at that moment, Missy tumbles back into a corner, driving a stunned Cathy into the buckles and knocking the air out of her lungs. The sleeper now unlocked, Missy drops first to her knees, and then down on her stomach, pawing at the mat with her remaining strength to reach her corner.

I must be hallucinating, Missy thinks as she struggles toward her corner. If she didn�t know better, she might have almost thought that the crowd was behind her, cheering her to Chrissy, and cheering for her to retain her belt. She knows she�s never been a crowd favorite at any point in her career, either as an amateur or a professional. But could it be that the crowd hated the Dennehys more?

As Missy reaches her corner, the crowds cheers turn to the boos which she finds more familiar. But the reason for the boos is anything but. Though she has reached her corner and reached out to her sister for a tag, Chrissy has not accepted. Instead, she has simply hopped off the apron.

�I�ve got better things to do, Miss,� Chrissy scoffs, turning her back and heading back up the ramp. �You three putzes have fun. I�m gonna start worrying about the important prizes now.�

Missy can�t believe her ears. She and Chrissy had never been the Waltons, to be sure. But in the end, they had always been there for each other. And now her sister was turning her back on her? �Chrissy?� Missy shouts after her sister, pleading for her to return.

Chrissy simply raises her right arm skyward, middle finger extended.

Missy is absolutely livid. �You�ll pay for��

�You first.�

The voice was not Chrissy�s, but rather Shannen�s, as the younger Dennehy has been tagged into the match. Almost effortlessly, she scoops Missy off the canvas, hurling the smaller blonde over her body with a German suplex. Totally unsuspecting, Missy has little time to process what is happening before her head and shoulders take the impact of landing.

Missy�s body flops first onto her side, and then lifelessly rolls onto her back. The older Daniel sister�s head lolls to the right, her chin almost touching her shoulder, a tiny trail of spittle running down her cheek.

Shannen Dennehy sits on her knees, her hands pressed against her thighs as she admires her handiwork. The only thing left now was the finishing touch. With a dramatic flourish, Shannen discards her sportsbra top and lowers her abundance down onto Missy�s slumbering features.

The beaten blonde revives momentarily, merely to offer a few weak spasms and thrashes as Shannen�s bounty quickly quells the rebellion. Only moments after it began, Missy�s body melts into the canvas.

Entering the ring, Cathy Dennehy approaches as the referee performs the check of Missy�s arm. After the second lift, Dirty Cathy places her boot gently against Missy�s womanhood, raising her arms in triumph.

Mercifully, Missy Daniel�s arm drops a third and final time.

WINNERS, and NEW CHAMPIONS: The Dirty Dennehy Sisters