Toughwoman contest
By American Boxer
A young woman enters a toughwoman contest, and boxes a much larger opponent


When I had signed up for the local toughwoman contest, I was feeling pretty
good. Sure, I could get beaten, but I'm a pretty darned good fighter. I won my
first fight in the second round, slugging it out with my opponent, then
catching her with a perfect overhand right on her jaw. She got up, but I was
able to knock her out while she was still stunned. Not many women can take my
punches when we're wearing the small 8-oz gloves.

My opponent had also won her first fight by knockout-I'd heard with two
punches right at the beginning of the first round.

I thought that the second fight would also go well-until I saw my opponent.

At 5'7 and 140 pounds, I'm a pretty good-sized woman, but this girl was huge.
The announcer described her as being 6'3, and 220 pounds-and I believed him.
She had shoulder length blonde hair and icy blue eyes, and looked very
strong-her abs were ripped, and her legs looked like trees. She was also very
nicely built-solid, but still nicely curved. The gray Everlast sports bra
accentuated her build, while the black satin trunks with white trim made her
look like the dangerous boxer she was. Black Adidas boxing shoes with white
trim and shiny black Everlast gloves completed the image of a true Amazon.

As we flexed for the crowd, her biceps bulged hugely. Normally, my muscles
catch the eye of the crowd, but not this time. I quickly revised my fight
plan-I'd have to keep moving, and hope she was as slow as she was strong.

When we met in the center of the ring, I realized just how hard this was going
to be. She towered over me, and there wasn't an ounce of excess fat on her 220
pounds. As our gazes met, neither one of us would look away-we were both here
to fight, and let the other one know it. Still, looking up at someone 8"
taller and 80 pounds heavier is intimidating if she's going to be trying to
punch your lights out in a moment-I just didn't let her know that I found it
so. When we touched gloves, she forced my hands back like nothing

When the bell rang, we started to circle, the only sound our boxing shoes on
the canvas as we sized each other up. She looked me over carefully, but I
could feel her confidence, see it in her eyes. She knew she had all the
advantages. We were circling to the right, still at a distance as I tried to
set up to move in closer. I could see her tense, her shoulder twitching as she
snapped a fast left jab at my face. I managed to slip the punch, feeling the
rush of air as her black glove whipped past my face. This woman was just as
fast as I was, as I found out when her second punch came in. The THUD echoed
through the gym, pain shooting through my left side as the wicked right hook
crashed into my ribs. I had never taken a blow like that in my life, and it
had even more force because I'd been moving into it. The blow stopped me in my
tracks, although I was able to duck the left hook she aimed for my head-a good
thing, or the fight might well have ended right then and there.

She bounced back, hoping to avoid getting hit in return, and I flicked a jab
at her face, trying to set her up for a right to the jaw. She saw the fake for
what it was, then smoothly ducked under the right. The blow missed by only an
inch, but that was enough to give her an opening. She pivoted smoothly about
her waist, her bulging muscles rippling as she drove a wicked left hook into
my side. The blow was at least as hard as the last one; I could feel the
bruises already. Before I could react, even to try and back up, she followed
it with a straight right. Her fist slammed into my chest, just under the
breasts. All her weight had been behind the blow, and it felt like she's hit
me with a hammer, not a gloved fist. It hurt like heck, but I'd seen it coming
at the last instant, so I didn't get knocked across the ring. Only a few
seconds into the fight, and I was already hurt, and hadn't even landed a
single punch.

That blow shook me up-her punches were coming faster than I had believed
possible. Even though I was off balance, I whipped a left hook at her jaw. I
felt it graze her blonde hair as she ducked under it, but this time I was
ready, driving a solid right cross at her jaw. I could feel the impact run up
my arm as the blow landed-but I also felt her fist explode on my nose at the
same instant. The small glove did nothing to protect my nose from her fist,
and I could feel it flatten beneath her hard knuckles. As I caught my balance,
I could feel warm blood start to run down my face; I could tell there was a
lot of it. She had also been knocked back-my punch had landed a split second
before hers, and hers had still flattened my nose.

I caught my balance a split second before she did, moving inside as I tried a
one-two for her quickly moving head. She caught the left with her glove- it
was like hitting a brick wall, then slipped the right, pivoting around me and
trapping me on the ropes. I quickly slid my left, but her reaction was
lightning fast. I'd barely started to move when she lashed out with a wicked
right hook into my side. The punch stopped me from moving as it sank into my
side. As I tried to cover and get off the ropes, she whipped wicked hooks into
my sides. She did a masterful job, anticipating each attempt with another hard
hook. As the pain shot through my sides, each punch worse than the last, the
smack of leather on flesh echoing through the gym, I could tell that my hard
muscles couldn't take much more.

As she pressed me hard, I whipped my left upwards, aiming for her washboard
abs, my hardest punch of the fight. She pulled back, and the blow felt strange
as it landed. Instead of slamming into rock hard abs, I felt my fist connect
with her right breast. She gasped in shock as my fist drove her firm breast
upwards, almost taking her top off. For a split second, the lower part of her
breast was exposed-not that I had a chance to admire the view.

She never even slowed her attack, actually smiling as she shifted her weight,
her right flying at my face. I managed to avoid taking it in the eye, but it
crashed into my cheek, slamming my head around hard. It disoriented me as the
shock drove me back, leaving me open for her next punch. The shiny black glove
glistened in the harsh light as she drove the overhand right into the bridge
of my nose. I could feel a crunch as the blow crushed my nose again, I knew in
an instant that it was broken this time.

After these blows, I could barely stand, and she was clearly ready to finish
it. As she came in, I tried to clinch, reaching for her to try and tie her up.
No luck there, she shoved me back with ease, my weakened arms no match for her
incredible strength. Before I could get set again, my ribs exploded in agony
as her left crashed into my side. She kept up the pounding, muscles rippling
with power, each punch leaving nasty bruises on my sides or sinking deep into
my demolished abs as I writhed under the onslaught. She told me later that my
face really showed the pain as she drove the punches home.

After at least a half dozen wicked blows had slammed into me, doubling me
over, she brought her left fist up under my jaw-the hardest uppercut it's ever
been my misfortune to take.

As I flew back, I wasn't able to react to anything-I was dazed, dizzy from the
pounding-then the real agonizing blow landed. As I bounced off the ropes, I
couldn't even see the right coming-the tiny glove sank into my firm left
breast, smashing it into my ribs. I was completely paralyzed by the
combination of blows, and my hands dropped for a moment.

That split second of paralysis was all she needed. As I stood there, stunned
and hurt, she pulled back her left, and walloped me in the jaw with a
thunderous hook. Friends told me later that the sweat that flew from my head
spattered them at ringside, so hard was the blow.

Exactly what happened after that is a blur-I know she caught me with a right
hook right afterwards. I was trying to get my gloves back up-I still knew
where I was, but couldn't make my arms obey as I say her gleaming black fists
coming at me, her muscles bulging as her fists busted me up. Within seconds, I
was so dazed, I didn't even know where I was-just a continual awareness of
pain. She smashed my eyes several times, my head whipping side to side as she
hammered my jaw-I heard later that she hit me at least 15 times before I
finally slid down the ropes.

When I came to, staring up at the ring lights, I hurt from waist to head. My
opponent was standing over me, her strong arms raised in victory, without a
mark on her. The gloved fist she reached down with to help me up was blurry,
but I took it almost instinctively. She lifted me to my feet effortlessly,
with just one hand-and she wasn't even breathing hard after demolishing me.

A moment later, I stood next to her, blood still running down my face, barely
able to see through my swollen eyes, waiting only to find out just how fast
she'd managed my beating. "The winner, in the red corner, by knockout at fifty
seven seconds of the very first round, Hilda 'The Amazon Destroyer' Zhukov."

How humiliating-she's destroyed me completely in less than a minute. I
congratulated her as the ref raised her gloved fist in victory, resolving to
train harder for the next time.

A few minutes later, I checked the mirror in the locker room, wondering just
how badly I'd been beaten up. I shouldn't have looked. My left eye was swollen
shut, my right eye half closed, some blood was still running down my face-my
white sports bra had more red on it than white. Her fists had left my stomach
and ribs covered in welts-everywhere that was a legal target was bruised and
battered. I felt even worse. I had the worst headache I've felt, my jaw felt
like it had almost been torn off, and every breath was agony. No doubt about
it-I had been whupped pretty bad, in fact, this was the worst beating I'd ever
taken.

A year later, there was a rematch-with painful results for both of us. That is
a tale for another day.

This is purely fiction