The Iowa locker room was the same one she had seen in every FAWN venue she had seen across the country, but it suited her well... Dirty and a bit on the dark side, just like her. At least she hadn't gotten the fabled pink locker room Hayden Frye had installed at the football stadium.

Shannen was at home in her new trade. A few weeks vacation from the ring had helped too... all of her bumps, bruises and knicks had healed up. As she tugged her black athletic bra down over her bare breasts, she imagined Sanders' face engulfed between the twin peaks, and smiled to herself.

As the younger Dennehy girded herself for combat, Cathy and her cousin Natalie sat in the lounge chair, watching the earlier matches. Cathy was wearing shorts and plain T-shirt instead of the baby blue thong that brought fear to the hearts of every one in FAWN.

She and Natalie and Cathy had come to Iowa City a week early, worked out, studied film and in Cathy's words, focused. Looking up at the mirror, Shannen pulled her hair back into a severe ponytail, leaving as little of the blonde hair for pulling as she could. Baby Dennehy gave one last tug to her black athletic bra, and let her eyes trail down the mirror past her firm breast, flat tummy and continue down the scuffed and worn black wrestling boots. Brushing a piece of lint from her tiny thong, she straightened up, her mind racing past her lessons.

Cathy watches the monitor as one of the FAWN2 wrestlers strangles out her opponent with her own bra before breast smothering her. Watching as the EMTs hauled one torn corpse out of the ring, while the other young lady paraded her victory around the ring, Shannen realized with a start that her time had come. As the announcer on TV preps the audience for her upcoming match, there is a light knock on the door.

"You're up Shannen!" emanates from behind the door.

"FOCUS," Cathy said. "This is your signature match. Hurt her, break her and then humiliate her."

Shannen leaves the room alone, passing through the heavy black draperies and into the raucous arena, the crowd already having been worked into a frenzy by the previous fighters. Shannen looked straight ahead as she walked down the aisle, past the ravenous fans, past the sign reading, "THE MILKMAN COMETH!", past every one until she reached the stairs, and climbed up on the apron. Shannen climbs through the ropes, alone.

A few chords of an upbeat pop mix accompany the inaugural appearance of Kristy Sanders at the upper stage, the newcomer welcomed by a decidedly mixed reaction from the 15,500 packed into Carver-Hawkeye. Dressed in a diminutive pink tanktop leaving much of her tanned midriff bare and similarly-hued tights that travel down to mid-calf, an undersized black skirt covering the top of the tights, she gets a step or two down the ramp when a loud scratch signals a change in the musical accompaniment, Kristy shocked to a stop by the apparent technical difficulty. When Kelly Clarkson squeals out "But since you been gone; I can breathe for the first time; I'm so movin' on, yeah yeah; Thanks to you, now I get what I want; Since you been gone", the partisans of her recently and dearly departed cousin erupt in a shower of boos that fall heavy on the rookie. Her hazel eyes bugging, she pleads with the fans as she walks the aisle, making her case that she had nothing to do with Kylie's departure.

Apparently, and unfortunately, she still has the attention of Bethany Christian and this is the first card played by the boss. Kristy tries to counter by reaching to slap hands with the fans. She has a few takers, but there's not a lot of love within the old black-n-gold tonight. Even less so as the next verse spreads over those assembled.

'You had your chance, you blew it; Out of sight, out of mind; Shut your mouth, I just can't take it; Again and again and again and again.' The first line is accompanied on the FAWNtron by Domi's match-winning Dismount Stick, the last with a series of four Rumpshakers applied to the former FAWN star.

The crowd, well aware of Kylie's forced departure and Kristy's suspiciously timed entry into FAWN, really let loose, guiding her toward the ring with a barrage of catcalls. A few supportive placards in the audience buck up the clearly shaken cutie, but much of the editorial content is just as harsh as the screams of derision. Examples include: 'Scheming sluts don't measure up', 'Kylie kicks ass. Kristy kisses it', and 'C'mon Shannen. Show Kristy some lactose intolerance'.

Shaking off the hurt feelings and disbelief at her greeting, Kristy slides under the bottom rope and pops to her feet. She searches the front rows for any sign of Kylie, but is disappointed. No friendly faces. Even Cosette is absent, dealt off to an indy in Minnesota for the day by Bethany.

Bouncing in her corner, she doesn't even try to move the mumbling, buzzing, booing masses to her side. She'd have to win them over with her skills in the ring and pumping a fist or starting a rhythmic clap before one punch was thrown wasn't going to get her anywhere. Instead, she stretches as the last insulting chorus from Clarkson winds to a close.

Sanders realizes that although the reaction of the crowd is disheartening, in the big picture, it doesn't matter. It's Shannen she has to worry about. She'd finished Kylie off in most impressive and disturbing fashion. It wasn't going to happen to her. And when the crowd saw the difference between a Kristy win and a Kylie loss, maybe they wouldn't hold her such disregard. She'd get an opening at that point and prove she had no responsibility in running off her cousin.

But first things first. As they say, the milkwoman cometh.

With the sounding of the opening bell, both women come out of their corners. Almost immediately, Shannen looks for an opportunity to lock up with her smaller adversary, but that is something Kristy clearly wants no part of. "I can't really say I blame you, babe," Shannen taunts, cupping her impressive chest to the crowd's delight. Though had they been able to hear her next words, the reaction might have been slightly less enthusiastic. "Your cousin didn't have much of an answer for these, and I bet you'll probably have even less."

The new Sanders on the block shows no signs of intimidation. "However much I love Kylie, I'm NOT her. And that's something you and everyone else are going to have to get used to."

Shannen merely sneers, finally tired of waiting for the Golden Gopher to come to her. "Just shut up and drink your milk."

Still, Kristy evades, engaging Shannen on her own terms... and using the bigger blonde's momentum to help take her down to the canvas. Kristy springs back to her feet quickly, with Shannen just a little behind, more pissed than hurt. Still, her return to her feet is not fast enough, and by the time she has turned to face Sanders, Kristy's boots drive into those famed jugs with a textbook standing dropkick. Shannen crashes back to the mat, still pissed, but now beginning to hurt.

Shannen rises a little slower this time, and those extra seconds give Kristy even more time to prepare. Just as Shannen starts to push herself up, the smaller blonde dives forward into a handstand, ensnaring Dennehy's head between her calves before the strapping Texas can pull herself up to her full height. Before the startled cowgirl can think of counter, she finds herself flipped off her feet, Kristy transitioning to a more traditional headscissors as soon as the pair hit the mat.

More a mosquito than a gopher, Shannen thought as Kristy's thigh's constricted around her head. But she'd be swatted soon enough, once Shannen found her way out of these scissors. Digging her nails in draws a hiss and a grunt from the rookie, but does little to loosen their grip. Assessing her best options for plan B, Dennehy spies the ropes. They weren't too far away. The question was, were they close enough?

The answer proves to be "yes", as Shannen just manages to coil her fingers around the bottom cable. Rookies, she mused, as the ref ordered Kristy to break the hold. It wasn't too long ago that she was the one making these sorts of elementary mistakes.

Maybe if she was in good mood, she'd leave Kristy in enough pieces to be able to look back on a moment like this from the same vantagepoint in two years time.

Heeding the official's instructions by the count of four, Sanders pulls the Texan back to her feet and presses her back into the ropes. A chop to the chest draws a reflexive (though not the most enthusiastic) "Whooo!" from the crowd, and a chirp of protest from the Shady One, whose hand rises to her stinging orbs.

Intercepting the raised limb, Kristy attempts an Irish whip, but Shannen manages to reverse it. Unfazed, Kristy takes flight, leaping onto the middle rope and then launching herself back at her foe with a crossbody block, Dennehy staggering backward and wobbling on impact...

... but not falling down.

Kristy can feel Shannen getting her feet under her, and tries everything in her power within Dennehy's arms to knock the bigger girl off balance. Shannen finally does go down, but by her own volition, dropping to one knee and ramming Sanders back first across the other.

"UNNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Kristy moans, before Shannen's right palm presses under her chin, forcing her mouth closed. Meanwhile, her left forearm bears down against her captive's left thigh... and Dennehy's left hand manages to find a resting place in Kristy's crotch.

"Welcome to FAWN, bitch," Shannen spits, her fingers digging into the white fabric covering the Minnesota girl's womanhood. "Next time, it'll be for real."

Shannen shoves to coed off her knee, allowing Kristy to roll onto her stomach, one hand reaching to massage her back as her legs clamp firmly shut against the possibility of a further attack. Still, when Shannen reaches down, she is able to snake one arm between her rival's legs. Fortunately for Kristy, this does not prove to be the "next time" Dennehy had spoken of. Less fortunately, instead she finds herself scooped off the canvas, and cradled for a moment against the Shady One's chest, before being slammed down onto her aching back with ring-rocking force.

Throwing her head back, eyes tightly shut in anguish, Kristy sits up off the mat, arching her back in a futile effort to lessen some of the shockwaves running through her spine. Taking a seat behind her, Dennehy wraps her legs around her victim's midsection, before slipping her arms under Kristy's to apply a full nelson.

As Dennehy rocks back, lifting her off the canvas, Kristy knows what's coming, and she pleadingly shakes her head. But Shannen is an even less merciful audience than the Iowa City faithful had proven to be, and she deposits Sanders back to the mat with a keister bump.

The rookie's eyes go from narrow to wide in an instant, her mouth hanging open, even as no sound emerges from her lips. Taking a cue from the fans, Shannen rocks back again, this second bump managing to at least get a moan from Kristy and her traumatized spine.

Releasing her prey, Kristy immediately slumps onto her side, curling up as she does so. But Shannen gives her precious little time to recover. Grabbing a large helping of Kristy's flowing blonde locks, the Texan peels her out of her protective cocoon and hauls her off her feet, and into a bearhug.

Dennehy makes a point of grinding her joined fists into the base of Kristy's spine, Sanders howling as her legs entwine around Shannen's midsection in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure. One particularly powerful squeeze from the cowgirl, though, causes the blonde's legs to relax...

... and as they do, Shannen again falls to one knee, this time sending Kristy down crotch-first into the other.

Sanders bounces onto her tippy toes, spinning 180 degrees before taking a couple of jell-o legged strides. Her brief journey ends after that as she sags to her knees, the ring ropes the only thing keeping her even semi-upright.

Shannen needed no further invitation.

Stalking her fallen adversary, Dennehy presses down on Kristy's shoulders, driving the battered blonde's throat into the middle cable. Her feet stomping behind her, the rookies arms flail through the ropes, her tongue lolling slightly out of her mouth as she struggles for breath.

"ONE!" barks the referee.

Shannen pays him no mind.

"TWO!"

Kristy's fluttering eyes scan the crowd, finding many to be enjoying her plight, but seeing a few start to feel sympathy for her. Not that it helped much at this moment.

"THREE!"

As her thoughts grew hazy, Sanders contemplated the possibility that Shannen might actually let herself get disqualified. It didn't seem her style, and it certainly wasn't the way she'd have hoped to win her FAWN debut...

"FOUR!"

Shannen answers the question by finally pulling away, leaving Kristy to pant and wheeze as she remains draped over the middle rope. Dennehy raises her hands innocently, taking first one step back, and then another.

But this is only to get a running start. With a loud yell, Shannen sprints back to her opponent, this time jumping astride Kristy's shoulders.

"You're not the first calf I've broken," the cowgirl taunts, bouncing against Kristy's shoulder blades a time or two before settling down, one set of fingers slipping inside one of Krstiy's shoulder straps, and the other pulling back on her head. . "But they usually put up more of a fight."

Again, the referee is forced to intercede, eventually forcing Shannen to back away, Dennehy managing to rip the left shoulder strap of Kristy's one piece as she does so. The rookie melts off the ropes into a coughing heap.

Assured of her supremacy now, Dennehy drags Kristy back to her feet, and embraces her once more. The hug is fleeting, however, as Shannen raises her demolished adversary up and over, the belly to belly suplex slamming Kristy back to the canvas. The impact puts an end to the damaged left side of her ring tog's efforts to keep its cargo in confinement, the crowd (including the ones newly sympathetic to Sanders) erupting at the sight of the exposed breast.

Shannen saunters over to her foe, and places one boot atop Kristy's chest, grinding the heel of her boot into the rookie's bare breast as she does so.

ONE...

TW... kickout.

"Pesky, ain't ya?" Shannen mocks, dragging the shell-shocked blonde up before shoving her back into the nearest corner. Kristy offers no resistance as Shannen renders the right shoulder strap as useless as the left, allowing both sides of the decimated one piece to fall down her torso. "That's okay, though," the Texan continued, before whipping her into the opposite corner, the impact with the buckles further battered Kristy's back and sending her bare bosom a-jiggle.

"I like 'em pesky."

Shannen takes off after her nearly vanquished prey, launching herself into the corner splash that had so often been the precursor to the Milk Run. But almost as soon as Shannen commits to her flight, from some instinctual level, Kristy manages to raise her legs, her feet rising to catch Dennehy under the jaw.

As Shannen stumbles away from the corner, Kristy makes the most of the adrenaline running through her veins. Springing up onto the middle buckle, she waits for Dennehy to turn back toward her. And when she does, Sanders launches into a diving back elbow that sends both of to the canvas.

Kristy kips back to her feet, but is momentarily halted from continue her offensive by the realization of her current state of undress. Without even thinking about it, she starts to raise her arms in an effort to cover up. "No," Sanders whispers to herself, shoving the thought out of her mind. She'd seen enough of FAWN before signing up to know this was part of the territory.

Modesty had no place in a FAWN girl's mind, and it would have to have no place in Kristy's.

As Shannen makes it back up, Kristy charges past her, grabbing the cowgirl's wrist as she goes by. With Shannen still a bit disoriented, Kristy is easily able to hop from the middle to the top rope, and take a couple of strides along the highest cable. By the time Shannen's mind has cleared, it's too late, as Kristy dives over her, whipping the big blonde off her feet and sending her skidding across the mat.

Fully reinvigorated now, Kristy slips through the ropes, making her way along the apron to the corner closest to Shannen's crumpled body. Climbing up to the top, she patiently waits as Dennehy drunkenly scrambles up. And once she does, Sanders leaps into the air, taking the Texan down with a devastating flying neckbreaker.

With Dennehy cradling her neck, Kristy crawls atop her, hooking the leg.

ONE...

TWO...

TH... kickout.

Kristy could feel her heart crack slightly. "Proof I'm in the big leagues now," she told herself, dragging Shannen up beside her in a side headlock. That would've put away just about everyone else she'd ever trained with. With Shannen's head secured at her side, Kristy sprints to the ropes, springboarding off them before planting Shannen face first with a bulldog. Dennehy's right leg twitches, but otherwise, she remains motionless.

"This enough of a fight for you?" Kristy asked over her shoulder.

Shannen offered no reply.

Getting up, Kristy again turns her attention to her best friends: the ropes. Rolling Shannen onto her back, Sanders heads to the corner, and wastes no time in heading to the top turnbuckle. Raising her arms--partly in celebration, partly to balance herself--Kristy takes flight, flipping into a Senton bomb that might just seal the deal...

Alas, Shannen is able to pull her knees up into her chest, and those bony joints end Kristy's journey. To make matters even worse, the Senton meant that the impact with Shannen's knees was not taken by her midsection, but by her already tenderized back.

"GGGGUUUUHHHHHAAAAWWWWDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Kristy rolls onto her stomach, and then her side, the tears flowing freely as her feet kick. Hauling herself up, Shannen takes a moment to survey the damage, a satisfied smirk crossing her lips as she approaches her fallen foe. Dragging a moaning and whimpering Kristy up by the hair, Shannen whips her into the ropes. Catching her on the return, Dennehy pulls her up, pivots on one heel, and then drives her into the mat with a resounding spinebuster.

Shannen remains on her knees between Kristy's legs, hands pressed against her thighs as she offers the crowd an utterly sadistic smile. Folding one of Kristy's legs into her stomach, the Texan leans forward with a cover...

ONE...

TWO...

THRE... shoulder up!

It was hard to tell who was more incredulous, the crowd or Shannen. "Just don't know when to quit, do ya?" the cowgirl muttered, before smirking again.

"That's okay. I like that, too."

Crawling around from Kristy's hindquarters to her head, Shannen begins to remove her sports bra. At the first move of her hands to the garment, the crowd starts to rise to a fever pitch. They knew what was coming. And whether or not Kristy may have been thirsty, they certainly were.

Her abundant chest now as bare as Kristy's, Shannen looks down into the vacant eyes of the rookie. "Drink up, slut," the Texan whispers, before the avalanche of moist flesh descends upon the vanquished blonde's features.

Kristy's arms and legs spasm and jerk, but otherwise, her protests are minimal. And within only a few seconds, those efforts come to a halt. Dutifully, the ref kneels beside Kristy, and raises her arm once...

Twice...

And thrice. Each time, the lifeless limb drops back to the mat.

DING! DING! DING!

The ref waits for Shannen to stand, to raise her hand in victory. Only she doesn't. Instead, she pushes herself up to a kneeling position above Kristy's head. Reaching forward, her hands find the rookie's breasts, her fingers gently stroking and caressing them, slowly rousing the beaten blonde from her stupor.

"Uhhhh... where... "

As soon as Kristy mumbles those brief syllables, Shannen scoots forward, taking a seat on the blonde's face before she can even realize what's happening. "Looks like a broke ya, girl," Dennehy coos, continue to fondle Kristy's boobs. "Now it's time to see how you ride."

Apparently, very well. It doesn't take long for the Shady One to feel herself reaching the boiling point. Moments later, it's over, Shannen struggles to keep herself from falling forward atop her foe in an exhausted-yet highly satisfied-heap.

Still seated on Kristy's slumbering, smeared face, Shannen looks up to the ref.

"NOW you can raise my hand."

WINNER: Shannen Dennehy