Sweat rolled down the tanned skin of Duna as she worked the weights at her favorite gym. With gritted teeth and a series of soft grunts, the musclebound Beach Bitch raised her bar up and down, up and down, determined on her face as she put her body through its paces. She had to make sure that she was in shape and ready to go. Somehow she had went from not having anything on her WWA plate to having two full courses of women standing against her, and she wanted to be ready for both of them. After all, when one talked as much shit as she did, they had to be ready to back it up.
Duna wasn't worried though. She had been on fire lately. She was on one hell of a winning streak, and as far as she was concerned, no one stood any chance of ending that streak anytime soon.
With one final grunt, the Queen of the Beach raised her weights one more time, holding them aloft for a few long moments, and then finally set them back down onto the rack...just in time to hear her phone go off nearby. It was a brief notification sound, alerting her to an update from someone she had been waiting to hear from...
>>10344155...and she began to smile, as she watched Bishamonta's video, her accepting of Duna's challenge. Tabbing over to her own Tweetstagram page, Duna sent out a new post, consisting of just three words, making sure to tag Bishamonta in it before she hit send.
>"ur fucking on."(1/3)
