Cowboy decided to speak? Giddyup, mother fucker. Parner, don't trash those I choose to sleep with. Even if most of them are homeless black men, and some of them are horses, and all of them have to be drugged up to fuck me. Don't you dare judge them. Peter Gilmour and Dimallisher will defend my honor if it comes to that, and trust me, you won't be happy if they have to. How dare you besmirch my lovers, just because the only person you've ever been inside is your mother. And even then, I'd be willing to bet you were a C-section so you've never touched a vagina. Least not a human one. Is that what this is about? You're terrified of the power of the human pussy? You know you're less than I am in every facet. Even in anal sex. Try to boast yourself up, but remember, Maria Brink is the only one walking into this thing with a winning record. Hell, I'm the only one walking into this thing with any chance of winning. Cowboy, baby, you've got as much chance of winning this as Peter Gilmour does of getting inside of me again. Zero.

Am I prepared to weather the oncoming storm? That's what you honestly asked me? Did you watch too much Russel T. Davies era Doctor Who? Are you pretending you're talking to a Dalek out there? Is that it? Do you feel so insecure with your old ass face that you need to imagine yourself as someone of some sort of importance to feel like you have a chance of taking me on? It's ok, I know it's kind of interesting to fight an opponent with more awards than you can count. And hell, how many people in this federation can say they got their ass kicked by a chick with a Wikipedia page? Well, anyone I've faced off with. But, that's not the point. The point is that you're in way over your head, kid. You don't stand a chance. You stand as much of a chance here as Adam Ant does of winning the award for most well adjusted adult in England. Yeah, that good.

I won't pin you, you're right. And you won't pin me. You won't pin anyone in this match, baby doll. You'll walk out of the ring, or get rolled out, having to admit to everyone that you took a loss to a Rock Goddess with AIDs. The rest of the XWF will always remember the time you took a loss courtesy of Maria Brink, the extremely part time wrestler. That is, if you stick around to take the taunting you'll face. Which, if I was a betting woman, you won't. And no, I don't intend to actually bet on that, I prefer to only gamble on the chance of getting murdered when picking my sexual partners. Can't spread my luck too thin, or one day I might end up with a knife in my throat, and a dick in my ass. Actually, the dick part sounds awesome. And look at it, I'm able to talk longer than you are. Wow, if you can't even cut a promo that lasts longer than 3 minutes, how can you expect to actually last that long in the ring? God, Tush's ability to speak in coherent sentences lasted longer than your promos, combined. And spoiler, Dick Milk, he was never able to speak coherently.

Jesus, Ghost Tank gets taken more seriously than you do, and honestly, no one here can remember a time when he was taken seriously. Not a single person. Shit, not even Tank. That's why he stapled the vag hole where his dick used to be shut and ran home to cry to his Stockholm Syndrome Bride about how the mean kids at school wouldn't let him sit by them at lunch. Right before she tried to run away and he beat her with a Pound cake pan and raped her in the asshole without even lubing up. That is highly rude and incredibly painful for everyone. Don't do that kids watching at home. Even if you have to use shitwater as a lubricant, you need to lube it up when you go hard as fuck on the asshole. And obviously, Ghost Tank didn't use his penis to rape this girl, he lost it. So he had to shove his gargantuan fists up her Asian Pooper in order to make her shit easier for the next six months. Which, I guess is a plus if you're only allowed thirty seconds in the bathroom before Ghost Tank starts to cry so loud the neighbors think you're slaughtering a baby Elephant, because he feels abandoned. Dear god, the sounds than produces have to be horrendous. I don't know, I've never once been able to sit through one of his promos because of how obnoxious he is.

And Cowboy, that's how you cut a fucking promo. You dick lipped piece of trash. Go read a book or something. I dunno, protest a midwestern town's ban on dancing. Something to make yourself useful, because this wrestling gig ain't for you. Trust me.




Maria is sitting in the bathtub of the Priest's house, her naked body glistening in the water as she laments her loneliness. There's a knock on the door of the bathroom, and she's brought out of her internal lamentation, which is good because she was starting to drool, and who knows what diseases her drool carries.

Come in.

Are you decent?

Maria looks down at her naked tits, and gives them a quick bounce. Yeah, they pass her inspection.

Sure am.

The Priest, who Maria had recently learned was named Sean Flannery, comes in and sees her naked in the bathtub, not covered up. She is far from the mess he had seen in his parish earlier. She was clean, and had a vibrant smile on her face. He knew he was a man of God, and couldn't touch, but to ignore the splendor before him would be a sin. It would be saying that we must not view God's work in its fullest. That was something the Father could not do. So he allowed his gaze to linger a little longer than he would have liked. She giggles, which breaks the Father's gaze.

Oh, I'm sorry. I was distracted. I haven't seen a woman as beautiful as you before, at least not like this.

Maria blushes before teasingly covering her breasts with her arms.

But, Father, you're a man of the cloth. You shouldn't be doing this. Should you?

Please, call me Sean. And I'm not allowed to touch, but I was never told I couldn't look.

Maria stands up and stretches, giving the Father a full look at her body, even the scabs on her vag. He doesn't seem to mind. Sean reaches out to touch her, but stops just shy. He knows he shouldn't touch her, but he is driven by desire.

Your flesh is almost too much, I cannot control myself. I must leave.

Maria climbs out of the tub, right as Sean is starting to leave. Her hand touches his shoulder, and stops him.

Stay, I have a way to help us. You don't have to touch me. Let me handle all of this.

Sean looks confused, but allows Maria to do her thing. She drops to her knees, and undoes his pants. Sean's pants fall down, and his manhood flops out, impressive. A solid 6.75 inches, and hard as a rock. Maria goes to town on his dick, all the while he refuses to touch her. He blows rather quick, and tries to apologize to Maria for it. She swallows his gravy, and forces him on his knees. He looks concerned.

What. What's gonna happen now?

You came too quickly. You're gonna eat me out.

The Priest looks at the scabs on her vagina, and notices there's an oozing sore. He gulps and then goes to work.