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The crossfit influencer a FMG story - Part 3
🕑 Added 2025-06-23 04:52:09 +0000 UTCThe air in Jaxson’s dressing room crackled with manufactured hype. He paced, a carefully cultivated snarl fixed on his face, while his entourage buzzed around him like anxious gnats. Lights were adjusted, angles checked, microphones tested. This wasn’t just a weigh-in; it was the overture to a spectacle, the opening act of the influencer-fueled clash that had taken social media by storm. Jaxson vs. Natalia, the digital world’s answer to a WWE main event.
"Alright, five minutes," a producer called through the door.
Jaxson stopped, striking a pose in the mirror – chest puffed, jaw set. "They ready for this?" he said, not to his team, but to his own reflection. "They ready to see the alpha put the little cat back in her cage?"
His head hype-man, a nervous man named Mike, nodded vigorously. "Absolutely, Jaxson. Trending everywhere. Kettlebell King!. They're eating it up."
Another assistant dabbed sweat from his brow with a towel. Jaxson swatted it away. "Sweat is drama, Mike. Let it ride." He flexed his arm, admiring the carefully sculpted bicep. He wasn't a real wrestler, not really, but he trained enough to look the part on camera. And Natalia? She was just a pushover, a lifestyle and beauty guru. This was his world now. He was going to dominate.
Finally, it was time. The booming bass of his entrance music vibrated through the floor. Jaxson pulled on a sleek black wrestling robe, the hood up to add to the mystique. His entourage flanked him as they moved down the corridor, the roar of the crowd growing louder with every step. This was it. The moment he asserted his physical and mental superiority.
They emerged onto the side of the stage, bathed in blinding spotlights. The arena, usually hosting esports tournaments or fashion shows, was transformed. A wrestling ring stood center stage, and beside it, the official scale. Across the platform, under her own set of lights, stood Natalia.
Jaxson grinned, a wide, confident flash of white teeth. She was there, looking… small? No, poised. But definitely not intimidating. Her entourage was smaller than his, but they seemed fiercely loyal, including her husband, Peter, who just stood quietly beside her, a steady presence.
Jaxson began his walk across the platform towards the scale and their designated spots. His entrance music flared. He played to the cameras, giving a few exaggerated scowls and flexing poses. As he approached the short set of steps leading up to the main weigh-in area, he kept his eyes on Natalia.
And as he climbed the second step, something… felt off.
He was looking up slightly.
He paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, quickly masked. No, that couldn't be right. He was 5'11". He was sure Natalia was reported as 5'1" or 5'4". Was it the angle? The stage?
He reached the top platform and stood opposite her, the scale between them. His confident grin wavered for a fraction of a second. He definitely had to tilt his head back just a little bit to meet her eyes, which were currently hidden under the hood of her own robe.
The announcer's voice boomed, introducing Jaxson with all his online accolades and 'victories'. Jaxson postured, soaking it in, trying to shake the weird feeling. Then the announcer turned to Natalia.
"And his opponent, the challenger stepping into the ring, the Queen of Clean Living, the Sultan of Smoothies…’FitNat’ herself! Natalia!"
Natalia didn't move initially. Just stood there, hooded. The crowd gave a mixed reaction – cheers from her fans, boos from Jaxson's loyal followers, and murmurs of curiosity from the undecided.
Then, slowly, Natalia reached up.
With a single, fluid motion, she threw the boxing robe off her shoulders. It landed with a silken rustle at her feet.
Jaxson's jaw actually fell open.
Standing before him wasn't the petite lifestyle guru he'd caricatured in his mind. Standing before him was a warrior. Natalia wasn't just taller than him; she seemed bigger. Every inch of her visible skin was taut, sculpted muscle. Biceps bulged subtly, shoulders were broad and powerful, and her core was a roadmap of defined abs.
And her gear… she wore a custom-made thong leotard in a vibrant, metallic purple. It was cut high on the hips, revealing incredibly muscular thighs and glutes that defied gravity. The front was a plungingly low scoop, showcasing a surprisingly developed chest and shoulders that strained the fabric. She looked less like an influencer and more like a physique competitor who'd wandered onto a wrestling stage.
The crowd's reaction was immediate and visceral – gasps, cheers, shocked silence, and a sudden, overwhelming wave of noise as people processed the sheer physical transformation.
Natalia stood there, utterly composed, meeting Jaxson's stunned gaze head-on. Her eyes, no longer soft and friendly, held a hard glint of determination. She didn't flex. She didn't snarl. She just was.
Jaxson swallowed hard. His cockiness evaporated like mist in the sun. He had anticipated a walkover, a chance to look strong next to someone he perceived as delicate. Instead, he was standing opposite a physical force he hadn't even conceived of.
Peter stepped forward slightly, placing a hand on Natalia's back, a silent show of support that felt less like protection and more like presenting a champion.
The announcer seemed momentarily flustered, stumbling over the next lines about the weigh-in process. All eyes were on the stark contrast between the preening Jaxson and the formidable Natalia.
She had accepted his challenge, yes. But she hadn't just accepted it; she had utterly redefined the terms. The smirk was gone from Jaxson's face
The air in the packed arena crackled with manufactured tension and genuine anticipation. The lights were blinding, the crowd roared, and the giant screens above showed side-by-side close-ups of the combatants. On one side, Jaxson, all bleached hair and preening confidence that was rapidly dissolving under the stage lights. On the other, Natalia, radiating a cool, almost predatory calm, clad in gear that was both functional and fiercely sensational. This wasn't pro wrestling, not really, but it had the theatricality down pat – the culmination of a viral influencer feud escalated into a "charity exhibition fight,
Jaxson, clearly playing the heel, postured, strutting and blowing kisses to the booing sections. Natalia just watched him, a slow, knowing smile playing on her lips. The referee signaled the start.
The bell rang, a shrill, decisive sound.
Jaxson, fueled by bravado and the crowd's roar, rushed forward. Natalia met him not with a block, but with a low, almost dismissive sidestep, letting his momentum carry him past. She followed quickly, gripping his arm and twisting him around before delivering a sharp, open-handed slap across his back that echoed through the arena.
"Already lost control, little boy?" she said, It wasn't loud, but it dripped with contempt, slow and deliberate. "Did you think this would be easy? Playing dress-up?"
Jaxson stumbled, flushing bright red under the glare. He swung wildly. Natalia ducked under a clumsy punch, came up behind him, and hooked an arm around his neck, dragging him towards the ropes. She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear.
"Relax," she murmured, loud enough for ringside mics to catch. "This will be over quickly. Just... hold still and let me show you your place…little boy."
Peter leaned forward, knuckles white on the guardrail. This wasn't the playful dominance Natalia sometimes showed at home. This was… different. Public, amplified, aimed with surgical precision at emasculating her opponent. And strangely, watching his wife control this situation, control Jaxson's every move with such effortless authority, ignited a spark within him he hadn't known was there. A rush of heat pooled in his gut, confusingly mixed with pride.
Natalia released Jaxson, spinning him back into the center of the ring with a shove that sent him staggering. He tried to regain his footing, throwing another desperate punch. Natalia caught his fist mid-air, her grip like steel.
"Cute..," she scoffed, her voice dripping with ice. "Is this the best you've got? I expected some resistance, at least." She squeezed his hand, making him wince. "Or perhaps you prefer being handled? Tell you what, I'll make this simple for you…little boy"
She yanked his arm, pulling him off-balance, then swept his legs out from under him with a swift kick. Jaxson hit the canvas with a thump that drew gasps from the crowd. Natalia stood over him, her shadow falling across his prone form.
"Get up," she commanded, her voice low and dangerous. "The show isn't over until I say it is."
As Jaxson scrambled awkwardly to his feet, Natalia felt a familiar sensation. A deep thrumming started in her core, spreading outwards. It was the surge she'd felt before, the quiet hum of power underlying the fight's adrenaline. Her muscles tightened, not suddenly, nothing visible to the casual eye, but she felt it. A subtle shift in her center of gravity, a deeper grounding in her stance, a sense of immense, untapped strength pooling in her limbs. Her frame felt... more substantial, more powerful, her muscles seeming to fill out her skin just a fraction more, giving her an even more commanding presence. It was exhilarating, feeling the leotard ride ever so slightly father up her ass.
She grabbed Jaxson as he rose, hauling him up by the front of his shirt. He looked small, desperate, completely outmatched.
"So you thought you could challenge me?" she hissed, her eyes blazing with an intensity that made the crowd fall momentarily silent. "Pathetic weak men like you belong beneath me. Like this!"
With a surge of her newfound, amplified strength, Natalia lifted Jaxson clean off his feet – not just a hoist, but a deliberate, powerful lift that showcased her dominance – and slammed him down onto the canvas with bone-jarring force. The crowd erupted. Jaxson lay stunned, gasping for air.
Natalia didn't hesitate. She dropped to her knees beside him, wrapping her legs around his head in a tight, inescapable headlock. She held him there, her thighs grip firm, unyielding, pressing the point home.
Natalia leaned back for the audience to see, Jaxson’s arms failing to separate her legs. Shifting her weight to pull her hips up and tighten her lock further she placed her hand over his waist for balance. Between his legs she could feel the raging erection that Jaxson was sporting under his suit.
Her voice became sultry.
oohhhH, I see you're enjoying this like I do! this is what you always wanted, isn't it little, Little Jaxson? To be the plaything of a superior woman like me?
Natalia released her grip just slightly so Jason could breathe.
“Look how good a goddess I am Jaxson, I’m letting you enjoy me a bit more before I crush you like a bug…do you like my scent? The hardness of my muscles? Answer me…Toy…” She said in a commandingly velvet tone, she was clearly excited and intoxicated with her power.
“You know…it would be so easy to break your little neck right now…but I don't like breaking my things…” She said, tightening her grip. Natalia could feel the struggle of Jaxson trying desperately to release against her iron grip. She chuckled at his vain efforts.
"Yield," she whispered, her voice returning to that chillingly calm tone, amplified for the world to hear. "You're mine now. Just say it."
Jaxson struggled weakly for a moment, then tapped out frantically, his face pale and defeated.
The referee signaled the bell. The arena noise exploded once more, a deafening wave of cheers and whistles.
Natalia released the headlock, rising smoothly to her feet. She didn't gloat over Jaxson; instead, she stood tall in the center of the ring, chest rising and falling steadily, looking utterly in control. The subtle enhancement of her form, the newfound sense of power, settled within her, part of her now.
From ringside, Peter watched his wife raise her arm in victory, the spotlight catching the sweat glistening on her powerful form. The confusion in his gut had solidified into something else entirely – an intense, almost overwhelming wave of attraction. Seeing her so utterly dominant, so powerfully in command, had unlocked something primal within him. He hadn't just seen his wife win a fight; he had seen his queen claim her throne, and he found himself utterly captivated, desiring nothing more than to submit to her reign. He smiled, a slow, dazed grin, and started to applaud, louder than anyone else.
