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Atara Raven · **08-04-2026, 11:56 PM**

The long limbed and shapely silhouette of Atara Raven was sat in her flour. The sheen of hot pink nylon that elasticized around around her lower body contrasted the polished black porcelain her legs where stretched across. Stretched wide, her legs in a V, she rested for moment to acclimate to the cold seeping from the floor into the flesh leggings contoured against. Flesh that was already under a deep pulling sensation along her inner thighs to her pelvis anchoring her firmly to the floor. The chill was a minor and temporary inconvenience that the warmth of blood flow to her muscles remedied.

Inhaling softly through her nose, Atara's spine lengthened before she exhaled to fold forward at her hips. Hands to found purchase on the floor between her legs. Her left arm slid the length of her thigh before she tucked a hand palm down under the same knee. The right would follow just after. Walking her hands out laterally, Atara lowered her chest until the cold pressed against her décolletage. Once low enough, she stretched her neck to keep it long and rested her face on the chill. She didnt think on the cold, she thought only of her breathing. Alreadt the testriction on her ribcage and stomach shifted how her functioned and it would only increase as she wasn't done getting into pose yet. Straightening her legs as much as possible it almost seemed as if she was pinning her own shoulders down with her thighs.

Reaching the apex of the posture, Atara was now at the peak of physical pressure. The spinal traction across her middle and lower back was powerful. Her thighs, the weight keeping her down, were being pulled to their climax in her hamstrings. Her locked in limb position made her ribcage seem to be squeezing her lungs. It would have been enough for most to max their anxiety out with the dread of claustrophobia. Her ears so close to the ground, her eyes closed, was almost a sensory deprivation chamber built from her own stetched and pretzeled body.

Fighting the pose would only cause pain. The Turtle required total surrender. The world was blocked out, Atara was inside shell and just mentally let go off everything but her physical self.

Her Physical Self.

Atara wasn't exactly some beaten up and turned out 42 old with a failing body and broken mind, but she was seven years into the business. She had been in boxing rings and MMA cages. She had been on football fields and Derby tracks. Her body had been her took through out it all and like all good tools they only lasted for as long you maintained it. Her's was still in impeccable condition despite a few dents and having blown two human heads out its cooch. That was probably were most if the damage had come from, but patchwork vag aside...it was impeccable. The tool was maintained.

Just a few months away from crossing the 30 mark, Atara felt she had another 7 years if not more in her but she wasn't going keep going once the body started failing. She wasn't going to become the nostalgis novelty act they pulled out for a cheap pop at a Rumble or break herself down so badly she had to string herself out on the pills or saturate her skin and clothes with the landfill body order STANK mix of a modified geekbar. If it got to the point where she had to metaphorically cut herself to know she was alive how was she going to be able look at her daughters say, "Yeah, girls. Look what the business did for mom, I'm perfectly ok with you following in my footsteps!" You had to know when it was time to hang it up.

Once the body goes, the mind follows and vice versa. It's what she felt all these shriveled old timers, the muscle mommies, the effing hardcore jack ass edgelords failed to balance. What's the point of a tumor mound looking body of muscle when you rip it off the bone trying to put a shirt on. What's a pain threshold going to do when your bleeding out from your eyeball because you got shived by some kids straw in the crowd after you slipped on soda becuase you couldn't keep it in the ring.

Why shit on your legacy, why embarrasse your family, why treat your career like a phetamine fiend chasing that dopamine hit. Why snort that one match adderall when your body is already telling you're one away from heart attack?

They build it, but don't protect it. It just blew Atara's mind. Well it would have, but she was currently ten toes deep into into the Turtle Pose and some inward awareness. Maintaining the body now for better promos tomorrow.

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