The warm, inviting ambiance of Knockoutman’s mat room was softly illuminated by the camera lights, creating a serene atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the intensity soon to unfold. Montana Charming, a fusion of grace and combat readiness, entered with an effortless poise that belied her fighting spirit. Clad in a diamond neck bikini top with a daringly low-cut neckline and a high-waisted, low-hipped silver g-string, her attire shimmered under the room’s lights, each movement accentuating her unapologetic femininity and readiness for confrontation. Her dirty blonde hair, with platinum highlights, cascaded around her shoulders, softening her fierce demeanor. Her eyes, typically alight with playful mischief, were now intensely fixed on the phone screen, displaying Smallz’s dominating performance. Intrigued curiosity on her face soon turned to shock and dismay, her full, plush lips parting in a silent gasp. Yet, as she stood in the mat room’s tranquility, Montana’s inner strength surfaced. Her jaw set firmly, her bright, blue eyes now sparkled with a determined fire.

Turning towards the camera, Montana’s voice, edged with steel, broke the room’s calm. “I’m tired of Smallz beating up all my friends and the other women here,” she declared, her tone infused with defiance. Her body transformed from a posture of shock to one of assertive confidence. “I’ve been training hard. I have a few tricks up my sleeve that might just leave him devastated in my wake,” she continued, her confidence palpable.

As she spoke, Montana began to demonstrate her skills, her body a fluid display of precision and grace. Her high roundhouse kicks sliced through the air, showcasing her remarkable flexibility and strength. Each front kick was executed with swift, deliberate motion, her abs contracting, her control impeccable. Shifting to punches, Montana’s arms became a blur of speed and power. Her jabs were compact yet explosive, her entire body pivoting with each cross. Her shadow boxing routine intensified, a dazzling combination of kicks and punches, her movements a testament to her quickness, flexibility, and striking ability. Unnoticed by Montana, Smallz, the towering menace, entered the mat room. Standing at an impressive 6’9″, his massive form immediately altered the room’s atmosphere. Smallz’s muscular physique, symbolizing raw power and dominance, was clad in basketball gold and black trunks, wrestling knee pads, and black boots. His luchador mask, adorned with a gold and black pattern, added to his mysterious and intimidating presence. He moved with a silent, menacing aura, his every step resonating with unspoken threats. As Montana executed another high kick, Smallz swiftly moved in, his imposing stature looming over her. He effortlessly caught her extended leg, holding her foot high in the air. Montana’s body contorted, her leg split in the kick, a picture of both strength and vulnerability. A look of fear flickered across her face, replaced her earlier confidence. Smallz, wordless and unyielding, stared at her, her leg stretched out above her head, his silence adding to his intimidating presence. With Smallz gripping her foot high above her head, Montana Charming found herself in a precarious position. The fear of the towering figure before her was palpable, her confidence momentarily eclipsed by the sudden realization of her vulnerability.

In a desperate attempt to regain control, Montana’s voice, laced with both defiance and nerves, broke the tense silence. “Let me go, you big freak! I’m not afraid of you,” she exclaimed, her voice shaky yet determined.

But before she could finish, her words were abruptly cut off. Smallz, with his free hand, clamped down on her neck in a vice-like grip. Montana’s eyes widened in shock and fear, her earlier bravado faltering under the sheer power of Smallz. The air caught in her throat, her attempts to speak reduced to futile grunts and gurgles. With an almost effortless show of strength, Smallz lifted Montana off the ground by her throat with just one hand. The room, previously filled with the grace and agility of Montana’s shadow boxing, now resonated with the raw display of Smallz’s brute force. The contrast was stark – the agile, determined fighter now suspended helplessly in the grip of the monster. Then, in a blur of speed and strength, Smallz executed a devastating one-handed choke slam. Montana’s body, previously contorted in her high kick, was now hurtling towards the mat. The force of the slam sent a resounding thud echoing through the room as she hit the ground. The impact was jarring, a testament to Smallz’s overwhelming power and a stark reminder of the dangers that lay when stepping foot on the mats of Knockoutman’s World. In that moment, the room’s atmosphere shifted from one of serene combat training to a palpable display of dominance and strength. Montana, who had stood moments ago as a beacon of determination and skill, now lay on the mat, a clear indication of the formidable challenge that Smallz represented. The sickening thud of the choke slam left Montana Charming reeling, her body wracked with shock and pain. As she lay on the mat, her eyes fluttered weakly, and a small gasp of air escaped her lips, a testament to the intensity of the impact. She instinctively grabbed her throat, her other hand moving to her aching back, trying to soothe the sharp pain that radiated through her. Before Montana could even begin to recover, Smallz, capitalizing on his advantage, swiftly moved in. He grabbed a handful of her blonde locks, yanking her up off the mat with a roughness that was both startling and brutal. Montana let out an involuntary grunt, the pain in her scalp intensifying the disorientation from the slam.

In a swift motion, Smallz’s huge arms wrapped around her already hurting back, trapping her in a soul-sucking bearhug. As soon as the crushing grip clamped on, Montana let out a sharp shriek of “Oh shit!”, realizing the perilous situation she was in. The fear and realization of her vulnerability were evident in her voice – she knew she was in trouble.

Smallz, silent except for his grunts, began to apply pressure with the bearhug. Montana, in a desperate attempt to escape, clawed at Smallz’s vice-like arms. Her fingers scratched and pulled, but it only seemed to incite Smallz to tighten his grip further. He began shaking her from side to side, each movement methodical and relentless, showcasing his dominating strength. As the bearhug continued, it became too much for Montana to bear. With every jerk of her body, with every soul-sucking second, her breaths grew more labored and strained. Her struggles gradually diminished, her energy sapped by the unyielding pressure of Smallz’s arms. Finally, unable to withstand the relentless assault, Montana succumbed to the bearhug. She went limp in Smallz’s arms, her consciousness slipping away as her feet dangled off the ground. The last of her resistance faded, and she was left hanging, defeated and motionless, a stark contrast to the spirited fighter who had entered the mat room minutes before. The room, once filled with the sounds of her vigorous training, was now eerily silent except for the steady, rhythmic breaths of Smallz, holding his unconscious opponent in his unbreakable grip. Smallz released his vice-like grip from the bearhug, Montana Charming’s body crumpled lifelessly to the mat. She lay face down, her once dynamic form now eerily still, save for the subtle rise and fall of her back as she desperately gasped for air. Her body was in a state of recovery, trying to draw in the much-needed oxygen it had been deprived of during the brutal bearhug. Smallz, towering above her, surveyed Montana with a sense of cold detachment. Not one to allow his opponents even a moment of respite, he raised his boot and brought it down with crushing force directly onto the spine of the still-recovering fighter. The impact of his huge booted stomp sent a shockwave of pain coursing through Montana’s body.

The agony jolted her awake, her scream piercing the silence of the room. Her body reacted instinctively to the intense pain, her arms and legs flailing up and off the mat in a reflexive attempt to escape the source of her torment. As she regained full consciousness and became aware of her situation, Montana’s spirit flared up in defiance. “Fuck you! I will get my chance to kick your ass, just you wait,” she screamed, her voice a mix of pain and fiery determination.

Smallz, seemingly appreciative of Montana’s fighting spirit, took a step back. He watched her with a quiet, menacing intensity, slowly motioning for her to get up and face him. His stance was relaxed yet predatory, like a hunter giving his prey a fleeting chance to run before the inevitable chase. Montana, despite the overwhelming pain and exhaustion, began to stir. Her fighting spirit, unbroken even in the face of Smallz’s overpowering dominance, pushed her to rise. She was battered and bruised, her body screaming in protest, but her determination to stand up to Smallz was undeterred. Montana Charming, her body still aching from the earlier onslaught, slowly approached Smallz. Each step was measured, her mind racing through her training, searching for a strategy to take down the towering monster before her. She knew she needed a plan, something that would leverage her agility and precision against his brute strength.

As the distance between them closed, an idea crystallized in her mind. She decided to go for a high roundhouse kick, aiming to strike a critical blow. Montana thought to herself, ‘If I can knock this guy out, I can finally unmask this monster, taking away some of his scary demeanor.’ With this plan in place, she swiftly executed the kick, her leg slicing through the air with the intent of taking Smallz’s head off. However, her attack was in vain. Smallz effortlessly sidestepped the kick, shaking his head in a dismissive gesture. He motioned for her to come at him again, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. Not deterred, Montana quickly adapted. She feigned a jab with her left, and as Smallz sidestepped, she brought her knee up with full force, aiming to catch him in the midsection. She threw all her power into the knee strike, feeling the strain of the impact reverberate through her own body. To her dismay, Smallz barely reacted. He slapped his midsection, showcasing his six-pack abs, and shrugged as if her strike was nothing more than a gentle tap.

Montana’s mind reeled in frustration and disbelief. ‘How the heck am I going to take this monster down?’ she thought.

In a desperate attempt, she scrambled and launched a flying right hook, hoping her speed and quickness might catch him off guard. But once again, Smallz seemed unfazed, absorbing the punch as if it were nothing more than a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to face Montana, who was now retreating, her mind racing to find another way to penetrate his seemingly impenetrable defenses. Montana’s determination was clear, but so was the daunting reality of the challenge she faced. Smallz’s towering presence and apparent invincibility on the mat were proving to be more than a match for her speed and agility. She needed a new strategy, a way to outmaneuver the giant who seemed impervious to her best attacks.

Seething with frustration yet burning with determination, Montana Charming couldn’t hold back. “Geez, you keep getting lucky, motherfucker, but I’ve got more tricks up my sleeve!” she spat out, her voice a cocktail of anger and resolve.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she launched herself at the towering giant. In a fluid, acrobatic motion, she leapt up, aiming to wrap her legs around Smallz’s neck in a daring attempt to execute a hurricanrana, her plan to turn the tables in this grueling contest. But Smallz, an unyielding force of nature, stood unaffected by her audacious move. As Montana found herself precariously inverted, Smallz seized her waist. His grip was unrelenting, his immense strength starting to loosen Montana’s thigh clasp around his neck. In an ominous display of his monstrous power, Smallz adjusted Montana’s position, ensuring her head pointed downward, her body flush against his, legs akimbo in the air. Then, with a sudden, brutal motion, Smallz unleashed a devastating sit-out piledriver. Montana’s head was driven mercilessly into the mat, the impact resounding with a chilling crunch. In those fleeting moments, as she hung upside down, a grim realization flashed through Montana’s mind – her attempt at turning the tide had backfired disastrously. She struggled, thrashed, desperate to escape the impending doom. But it was to no avail. With a swift extension of his legs, Smallz completed the piledriver, plunging her skull into the mat, extinguishing the fight within her. Montana’s body instantly went limp, the lights of consciousness brutally snuffed out by Smallz’s overpowering move. As he nonchalantly pushed her leg off him, her form slumped to the mat, a defeated, motionless heap. The room, once alive with Montana’s fierce spirit and tenacity, descended into a haunting silence. Smallz stood over her, his dominance indisputable, a daunting colossus in the ring. Montana, the resilient and fiery warrior, lay there subdued, a stark and sobering testament to the might and terror that Smallz wielded.

Smallz, reveling in his dominance over his new ‘toy’, decided to check on Montana’s condition. He reached down, grabbing one of her arms, lifting it slightly. With no resistance, it slumped lifelessly back to the mat, confirming she was out cold from the piledriver. He repeated the action with her other arm, and just like the first, it fell limply, a clear sign of her unconscious state. Wanting to ensure she was completely subdued, Smallz grasped a handful of Montana’s blonde locks, lifting her head off the mat. As he did so, a line of saliva mixed with sweat trailed from her mouth, testament to the brutality of the assault she had endured. Montana’s eyes remained shut, her mouth gaping open, drool spilling from the corner of her lips. Using his free hand, Smallz callously lifted one of Montana’s eyelids. The dull white of her unseeing eye was exposed, confirming she was utterly knocked out. With a dismissive shove, he let her head drop back to the mat. It hit with a soft thud, bouncing slightly as she lay there in a mix of her own sweat and saliva. Then, with a sadistic intent, Smallz placed his boot directly on Montana’s outstretched hand, driving his heel into her tender muscles. The sharp pain stirred Montana from her unconsciousness, her grogginess from the piledriver immediately replaced by the unbearable agony in her hand.

She screamed in pain, “Awwwww fuck, get off, you’re gonna break my hand!”

Smallz, unrelenting, ceased his grinding only to use that same hand to pull Montana up to her feet. Dizzy and disoriented, Montana could barely comprehend her surroundings as Smallz slung her across the room. Propelled by his monstrous strength, she ran face-first into the cinderblock wall with a sickening sound that echoed through the room. As Montana collided with the wall, Smallz was close behind, not giving her a moment to breathe. He followed up her impact with a massive running wall body splash, throwing his entire body against her and effectively squishing her against the wall. The force of the impact was immense, a brutal punctuation to his relentless assault. Montana, trapped between the unyielding wall and the crushing force of Smallz, was left gasping for air, her body bearing the brunt of his immense power. As Montana tried to slump down following the brutal wall body splash, Smallz, ever relentless, grabbed her, preventing her from collapsing to the ground. He turned her around, ensuring her back was against the wall, and straightened her up as much as possible. Then, he stepped back, giving her a moment that was more a taunt than a respite. In that moment, Montana’s mind raced. From the confidence with which she had started the match to the present, where she was barely hanging on, the contrast was stark and jarring.

She felt almost disconnected from her body, the pain overwhelming her senses. ‘Why did I even threaten this monster?’ she thought, her mind a whirlwind of regret and disbelief.

The realization that she had underestimated Smallz’s power and resilience was now hitting her with full force. Lost in her thoughts, she barely registered Smallz positioning himself across the room on the opposite wall. With a sudden burst of speed, he came running at her again, his body a missile of muscle and intent, and delivered another powerful wall body splash. Just as she began to slump to the mat, Smallz’s knee shot up into her gut, brutally straightening her back against the wall. Taking a few steps back, he once again positioned himself across from her, and with terrifying precision, delivered another devastating wall splash. The impact forced all the air out of Montana’s lungs, the room spinning as the black veil of unconsciousness began to descend upon her once more. This time, Smallz stepped back, watching as she slowly slid down the wall. Her chest heaved in desperate attempts to draw in oxygen, each breath a struggle to stay conscious. Montana’s eyes flickered weakly, her body fighting to stay awake against the overwhelming desire to succumb to the darkness. Montana sat on the mat, her back propped against the wall, gasping for air, trying to recover from the wall body splashes. But before she could gather her bearings, Smallz, showcasing his terrifying power, shot both hands to her neck in a vice-like grip. With a display of his monstrous strength, he lifted her up from the sitting position, high into the air by her neck. Montana was suspended, her feet off the ground, her legs dangling helplessly by Smallz’s sides as she desperately tried to breathe. Smallz’s iron grip was cutting off her oxygen supply, and she needed air desperately to recover.

Montana struggled to speak, her words coming out in half sentences and incomplete thoughts, a clear sign of the physical strain she was under. “Can’t… breathe… let go…” she gasped, her voice barely audible, her eyes wide with panic and desperation.

Meanwhile, Smallz only grunted in response, his focus solely on maintaining his powerful hold. As she hung suspended, the lack of oxygen began to take its toll. Montana’s consciousness slowly faded, her attempts to escape the choke becoming feebler. Her arms went limp, and her body started succumbing to the brutal two-handed chokehold. Smallz, realizing she was going limp in his grip, used the wall for leverage. He slammed her back against the wall with force, then, pushing off the wall, still holding Montana in his grip, he brutally slammed her body to the mat with a wall-assisted two-handed choke slam. The impact resonated through the mat room, a stark reminder of the sheer brutality Smallz was capable of. Montana lay motionless, the force of the slam leaving her incapacitated. After ensuring that Montana was completely unconscious from the crossface neck crank, Smallz finally released the hold and untangled her arms from his thighs. Adjusting his position, he then sat on the small of Montana’s back, preparing to apply the camel clutch, a move known for its effectiveness and punishing nature. In executing the camel clutch, Smallz sat on Montana’s back and placed both of her arms across his thighs, locking in her arms by placing it in the crook of his knees. He then reached forward, cupped his hands, and grabbed Montana’s chin, beginning to lean back slowly. At this point, Montana showed no resistance; she was still out from the previous hold.Wanting her to be awake to experience the ordeal, Smallz secured her with one arm and used his free hand to slap her awake. The initial slaps were light, but as they grew in intensity, they gradually roused Montana back to consciousness.

Once she was awake, the reality of her situation hit her immediately, and she let out a wail of pain that pierced the room. Through gasping breaths, she pleaded with the monster, “I give up, please let me go.”

Smallz ignored her pleas and executed the camel clutch perfectly. Montana thrashed and tried to escape, but it was in vain. As the hold continued, her frantic taps on the mat began to slow, a sign of her surrender. But Smallz was relentless. As she neared unconsciousness once more, he modified the hold, shifting from pulling back on her neck to clamping his hands on the sides of her jaw, adding a fishhook to the already excruciating hold.

Montana could only gurgle out pleas of surrender, but Smallz was unyielding.

He released the fishhooks but kept her arms trapped in the camel clutch. Wrapping his biceps around her neck, he transitioned to a modified camel clutch sleeper hold, simultaneously choking her. The effect was immediate; Montana went from desperate pleas to slipping back into the darkness of unconsciousness. Smallz kept the hold locked in tight until he noticed droplets of saliva drooling from Montana’s mouth, trailing down his arms and onto the mat. It was a clear sign that she was completely subdued, her body succumbing to the overwhelming pain and lack of oxygen. Smallz, not yet finished with his display of dominance, prepared for a standing body splash. He towered over Montana’s prone form before launching himself into the air and coming down with full force, pancaking her body against the mat. The impact of the first splash sent a jarring shockwave through Montana’s body, abruptly pulling her back to consciousness.

As she came to, Montana’s mind was a whirlwind of desperation and pain. ‘How did it come to this?’ she thought, her mind grappling with the harsh reality of her situation. The pain was excruciating, her body feeling like it had been through a grinder. ‘I need to find a way out, but how?’ she pondered, her thoughts racing for a solution, any solution.

But her thoughts were brutally cut short as Smallz delivered another devastating splash. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, silencing her thoughts and replacing them with an acute awareness of the havoc being wreaked on her body. Before Montana could even attempt to process the pain, Smallz yanked her off the mat by her hair. He delivered a small boot to her midsection, causing her to double over in pain. With Montana now vulnerable and bent forward, Smallz positioned her head between his thighs and bent forward himself, encircling his arms around her waist. In one fluid motion, he lifted Montana up, her legs resting on his shoulders on either side of his head, her waist, hips, and butt supported by his strong arms.

Suspended high in the air, Montana realized the gravity of her predicament. She began to shake her head, no longer able to mask her fear. “Please, no, let me go!” she pleaded, but her words fell on deaf ears. Smallz, like a machine programmed for destruction, was relentless.

He executed a thunderous powerbomb, lifting Montana slightly before extending his arms to their full extent and slamming her down with brutal force. The impact echoed through the mat room, a testament to Smallz’s raw power and Montana’s resilience being pushed beyond its limits. Her body lay on the mat, the pain and exhaustion evident in her every breath, a stark contrast to the fiery spirit and determination she had shown at the beginning of the match. Smallz stood over her, a colossus of strength and unyielding power, his dominance in the mat undisputed and absolute. Smallz, relentless in his pursuit of domination, reached down and yanked Montana off the mat by her hair, pulling her up to a standing position. With a light jab kick to her gut, he doubled her over. Montana, barely able to stand and lost in a daze of pain and confusion, was unable to comprehend her dire situation. She was a wobbly mess, her awareness fading in and out. Seizing the opportunity, Smallz hoisted Montana up, positioning her body across his shoulders to execute a torturous torture rack. Smallz carried the Motnana face-up across his shoulders, then hooks the Motnana’s head with one hand and a leg with the other. Smallz began to pull down on both ends, hyperextending Montana’s back, contorting her body into an unnatural angle to force a submission.As Montana was subjected to the intensity of the torture rack, the pain was immediate and overwhelming. Her body, already pushed beyond its limits, screamed in agony as Smallz applied more pressure. Montana fought against the pain, her instincts to resist still intact despite the brutality of the hold. However, as Smallz continued to rack her limbs, pulling further and bending her back to extreme angles, Montana’s resistance began to falter. Her body was being twisted to the point where her toes almost touched her own head, a clear indication of the unnatural and painful contortion she was undergoing. The relentless pulling on her limbs and the hyperextension of her back were too much for her to bear. Gradually, Montana’s struggles subsided, her body succumbing to the overwhelming pain and pressure of the torture rack. As Smallz continued to exert force, her consciousness began to fade. The once fierce and determined fighter was now completely overwhelmed, her body going limp in Smallz’s grip. Montana had passed out, the pain and exhaustion finally overtaking her. With Montana unconscious on his shoulder, Smallz, still intent on demonstrating his dominance, raked her down a few more times to ensure she was completely out. Then, with a casual shrug of his shoulders, he flipped her off, sending her crashing back down to the mat. The impact made a heavy thunk, and her body involuntarily twitched and jerked, a delayed reaction to the intense pain she had endured, even though her consciousness had yet to return.

After a brief moment of convulsing, Montana lay motionless, a stark contrast to the ferocity and spirit she had displayed earlier. Smallz, his thirst for destruction undiminished, proceeded to set her up for a Boston crab. He picked up her legs and started the maneuver, which involved hooking each of her legs under one of his arms and then turning her face-down, stepping over her in the process. The final position saw Smallz in a semi-sitting position on the small of her back, bending her legs and back towards her head in a torturous spinal lock. As Smallz locked in the Boston crab, the intense pressure and pain began to stir Montana back to consciousness. She came to, immediately overwhelmed by agonizing pain, feeling as if her back was on fire.

The cumulative effect of the torture rack and all the previous holds made the Boston crab excruciating. She started screaming in agony, frantically tapping the mat in surrender. “Please, stop! I can’t take it… you’re breaking me!” she pleaded desperately, her voice strained with pain.

However, Smallz, embodying the role of a sadistic tormentor, ignored her pleas and intensified the hold. He extended his back fully, pulling back on Montana’s legs so far that they were now above her head. Her body was bent to such an extreme that it resembled a human pretzel. The sight was gruesome – a clear display of Smallz’s merciless nature and his utter domination in the match. Montana, trapped in this excruciating hold, could do nothing but scream and plead for release. Her body was stretched and contorted beyond its limits, every fiber of her being crying out in pain. Smallz maintained the hold, his expression one of unyielding determination, as Montana’s pleas slowly turned into incoherent cries, her body unable to endure the unrelenting torture. The seemingly endless agony of the Boston crab finally came to an end as Smallz released his grip on Montana’s legs. They fell limply to the mat, and instinctively, Montana curled into a ball, seeking any relief for her tormented back and trying to create some space between herself and her relentless attacker. Her body was wracked with pain, every movement a testament to the suffering she had endured. But Smallz, indifferent to her plight, was not done yet. He delivered a savage boot to her exposed midsection. Montana instinctively curled around the blow, absorbing its full impact. The force expelled spit and air from her mouth, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She was barely able to process the pain as another blow landed, expelling even more air from her diaphragm. Stars danced before her eyes from the lack of oxygen, the pain suggesting a possible fractured rib. Each kick was a reminder of her vulnerability and the merciless nature of her opponent. Smallz seemed unfazed by her cries of pain and agony. To him, it was as if he was entranced, deriving a cold satisfaction from watching her suffer. He then reached down, lifting the battered Montana to a standing position, only to take a few steps back, calculating the distance for his next devastating move. Like a predator pouncing on its prey, Smallz charged forward and executed a running forearm lariat aimed directly at Montana’s windpipe. The impact of the blow was brutal, causing Montana to flip 360 degrees in the air before crashing down face-first onto the mat. She landed awkwardly, her head striking the mat first, her knees drawn under her, and her waist and buttocks jutting upwards. The room echoed with the impact, a harsh reminder of the violence of the match. Montana lay motionless, a broken figure, testament to the relentless assault she had endured at the hands of Smallz.

Montana, in her silver g-string, lay vulnerably with her ass pointing straight up in the air, a clear sign of her defeat. The lariat had all but spelled the end of the match, but Smallz wasn’t content with just victory. He wanted to ensure that Montana would never think to challenge him again. In a show of dominance, he slapped her ass, checking for any sign of consciousness, but Montana didn’t stir, her body remaining limp and unresponsive., with the exception of her ass cheek giggling from the impact of the slap. Seeing no real reaction, Smallz placed his boot directly on her butt, pressing her body flat against the mat. Then, with no hint of mercy, he reached down and grabbed Montana’s lifeless form. Demonstrating his formidable strength, he yanked her back up to a standing position, her limbs hanging limply by his side. Montana, still in a state of near-total oblivion, was oblivious to her predicament as Smallz manipulated her like a ragdoll, emphasizing the one-sided nature of this encounter. With Montana’s crumpled form still in his grasp, Smallz prepared to unleash his devastating finishing move – the Smallz Special. Smallz hoisted Montana high overhead in a gorilla press, his arms fully extended, showcasing his incredible strength. Briefly, Montana’s eyes fluttered open, her body jolted awake by the unexpected motion. Her weakened form protested against this forced return to consciousness. Then, Smallz smoothly transitioned, lowering Montana’s head until it hovered mere inches above the mat. Realizing the danger she was in, a flicker of desperation crossed Montana’s face. She began to struggle weakly, but her attempts were futile against Smallz’s strength. Without hesitation, Smallz drove Montana down with a devastating tombstone piledriver, her head and neck absorbing the full impact. The force rattled her body, her eyes rolling back momentarily. She remained conscious, her survival instincts desperately trying to keep her alert. Unperturbed, Smallz maintained his grip and rose back up, delivering a second bone-jarring spike tombstone piledriver. The impact blurred Montana’s vision and scattered her thoughts, pushing her to the brink of unconsciousness. But Smallz wasn’t done. With relentless determination, he executed a third jumping spike piledriver, driving Montana’s head into the mat once more. This final blow extinguished the last flickers of her consciousness. Her world plunged into darkness as she succumbed to the punishing assault. Upon releasing his grip, Montana’s body crumpled to the mat, convulsing involuntarily. The aftermath of the Smallz Special left her completely incapacitated, her unconscious form twitching and shuddering. Eventually, the twitching stopped, and Montana lay motionless, a silent testament to Smallz’s overwhelming dominance and the unforgiving nature of his power on the mat.

Smallz, intent on showcasing his total victory, proceeded with a final display of control. He pulled both of Montana’s legs up and over her head, locking them in place with one hand. Then, he bent down directly over her exposed backside, which was now vulnerable due to the extreme bend of her legs. He thrust himself on top of her, effectively pinning her in a matchbook pin. His body kept pressure on her legs, while his arms held her feet and ankles firmly to the ground above her head. With his free hand, Smallz began to slowly pound the mat, each count a declaration of his complete dominance. He methodically counted to ten, each thud resonating in the silent room. Reaching ten, he paused and stared into the camera, a look of triumph and satisfaction on his face. It was clear to everyone watching: Montana was completely out, reduced to nothing more than a plaything at his mercy. After a moment of reveling in his victory, Smallz effortlessly pressed himself off her, allowing her legs to unfold from the matchbook pin. He stood up, towering over the motionless form of Montana. Reaching down with one arm, he pulled her up, lifting her limp body and draping it over his shoulder. He began to walk out of the mat room, carrying her as she bounced helplessly with each step he took.

The camera remained focused on Montana’s body, particularly on her g-string clad backside that was now prominently displayed over Smallz’s shoulder. As he moved through the curtain to the back, the image slowly faded, leaving the viewers with the lasting impression of Smallz’s overwhelming power and Montana’s defeat. The scene was a stark reminder of the brutality of the match and the merciless nature of Smallz, a dominant force to be reckoned with in Knockoutman World League.