Denise 2 by Tom Adams

Denise fights in "the cage."

Denise's workouts at the gym have become more intense. Nancy,Carmella and Sally are there three days a week, but Denise is there six. The sweat stains her thick gym suit as she pushes herself to the maximum number of repetitions, until her muscles shake and she has to stop. She doesn't go to the bar with her friends anymore, staying at the gym another hour.

Finally, Nancy confronts her.

"Denise, since our fight, you seem obsessed with your body. It's like you're training for the olympics. Is it because you didn't beat me, because it was a draw. Do you want to fight me again? I hope not. With the muscle you've put on in the last three months, I wouldn't last three minutes."

Denise puts a hand on Nancy's shoulder.

"It has nothing to do with you, Nancy. It's just that some passions have been aroused in me that I don't fully understand. So please don't ask me to try to explain."

Nancy puts a hand on Denise's shoulder.

"If you ever need anything. If you're ever in trouble, please call me."

"And you do the same, Nancy."

They smile and gaze into each others eyes for a moment, gently squeeze each others shoulders and then Nancy turns to Carmella and Sally and they head for the bar.

Denise will spend the next hour on the muscles in her chest, lifting weights until her chest is on fire. She does bench presses with a high number of repetitions, then grabs two dumbbells, lays back on the bench and lowers them to the floor. With her arms outstretched, she slowly raises them until they meet above her head.

Her firm breasts used to jut straight out. With the extra work on her chest muscles they now tilt upward slightly. She used to balance glasses of water on them, but her breasts point up at such an angle the water splashes back on her chest.

It's Wednesday. Denise will rest tomorrow. Friday night will bring her first match in "the cage."

"The cage" is exactly that, a cage in the middle of a desert. about a two hours drive drive from Los Angeles. The spectators pay $100.00 each to sit in bleachers and watch nude men and women fight each other, locked in a steel cage fifty feet by fifty feet square. It's no holds barred, including slamming each other into the steel bars of the cage. The fight last until an opponent gives up or is unconscious for thirty seconds.

There are four fights three times a week with the winner taking from five hundred to ten thousand dollars, depending on their reputation and when they fight, the first opponents obviously getting less than the final, "main event". Women's fights are usually first, have never been the "main event."

Denise was "recruited" by one of the event's sponsors. He saw her in a bar one night, knew her nude breasts would be a crowd pleaser, made her a proposal and she accepted. One thousand dollars if she wins, five hundred if she loses.

It's Friday night. Denise and her opponent step into the cage and the gate slams and locks behind them. They are the first event of the night, both of them wearing a bath robe and barefooted. Denise likes the feel of the sand beneath her feet. She digs her toes into it, can feel it beneath the muscles in the archs of her feet.

Her opponent takes off her robe first. The woman is six inches taller than Denise, large breasts, and very muscular beneath a fine layer of fat. She struts around the cage, flexing her muscles and breathing deeply with her shoulders back to get the maximum affect from her breasts. The crowd applauds. The men are on their feet, cheering.

It's Denise's turn. There is no struting. She calmly walks to the center of the cage and takes off her robe. She slowly raises her arms over her head and turns in a circle so all the men can see her firm breasts and hard nipples tilting up toward the top of the cage. The men have never seen breasts like these. They whistle and cheer wildly and stomp their feet until the bleachers shake.

The six day a week workouts have turned Denise into solid muscle. There is no fat. She bends over, starts with the archs in her feet and slowly runs her fingers over each muscle group. Her calves and thighs are large and sexy, her butt round and alluring, her stomach muscles strain at her skin, her arms large and powerful.

The men are cheering and stomping so hard that the bleachers shake until other spectators think they might collapse. But this is not a beauty contest. It's a fight. Denise is a novice, her opponent a seasoned pro. The women approach each other cautiously, their feet digging into the sand, their muscles tight, their eyes sharp, looking for a place to strike.

Quickly her opponent thrust her long, muscular arms out and sinks her fingernails into Denise's breasts. She has a height and reach advantage and knows her opponent's fist will not be able to reach her face. She grins at the novice and tightens her grip. The fingernails sink deeper and blood begins to trickle from the breasts and down across a muscular stomach.

Denise is temporarily stunned. She hadn't expected so savage an attack so soon. But this is her first fight and she's determined it will not be her last. The pain in her breasts is intense. She can feel the blood on her stomach, lashes out in fury with her fists toward the other woman's face, but it's out of reach.

The woman grins at her novice opponent, believes the amateur will not last long, can see the look of pain in her eyes, smiles at the futile attempts to punch her in the face, plunges her sharp fingernails even deeper and begins to twist. The trickle of blood increases. The strategy is obvious. Destroy her breasts. Humiliate her. Drive her from the cage forever.

Denise is enraged, and she is smart. She doesn't panic. She draws her right foot out of the sand. The arch in it is hard, muscular. She draws back and using the strenth in her calves and thighs sends a devasting kick to the other woman's stomach.

Her opponent relases Denise's breasts and doubles over in pain. Denise sends another kick to the gut and a third to the woman's head. She's flat on her back now, trying to stay conscious, trying to get to her feet.

The novice is sitting on the other woman's stomach, her fists slamming into her opponent's face. Again the bleachers shake with the cheering and stomping. Denise's fists smash the woman's nose, breaking it, sending a stream of blood into the sand. Her fists pound the woman's mouth, bursting both lips and sending more blood toward the sandy floor of the cage.

The pro is not through yet. She regains consciuosness enough to again grab Denise's breasts and push her far enough from her face to keep the fists away. Once again the fingernails dig in and twist and more blood flows from Denise's breasts to her stomach.

Denise's head archs back in pain. Her arms drop to her sides. She breathes deeply, her beautiful, bloody breasts rising and falling with each breath. Her opponent rises and sinks her teeth deeply into Denise's breasts. It's a stupid move. Denise grabs the other woman's hair with her left hand, yanks her head up slightly and hammers at her face with her right fist. The woman is stunned, releases her grip on Denise's breast and falls to her back.

Denise gets to her feet to kick her opponent in the ribs. But the old pro isn't through yet. She grabs Denise's ankles and yanks her off her feet, causing her to fall face down in the sand. She leaps on her opponet's back, grabs two hands of deep brown hair and pulls back with her powerful arms. Denise's head snaps back, her back archs and her large breasts and nipples rise covered by a light mixture of blood and sand.

The sight of her breasts, nipples, blood and sand send the men in the bleachers into a frenzy. A section of the bleachers collapse, but it's low, near the sand and no one is hurt. Denise uses her hands and arms to push her body further off the sand. She's breathing deeply and flexing the muscles in her chest. This causes her breasts to become firmer. They look like muscles. rise on her chest. He nipples grow larger and harder. Every man in the bleachers has an erection.

Suddenly Denise flips over and grabs the pro by the throat, pulls her in close, her teeth aimed at the jugular vein. She wants to kill. Her powerful arms push Denise's head away but this is met by a even stronger grip on her throat. She can't breathe, starts to pass out.

Denise rises off her opponent and sends a vicious knee into the gut. And then another. And another. And another. The other woman is helpless as Denise uses her fists to pound the woman's face into a bloody mass. A referee sees that the woman is unconscious and can't surrender, so he steps into the cage and pulls Denise off her.

Denise digs her feet into the sand and raises her arms in victory. She slowly turns and lets everyone see her muscular body and bloodied but firm breasts and nipples. The men have never seen anything like this. They cheer and stomp. The management is very impressed.

They had promised Denise a thousand dollars, but give her two thousand and invite her back.

Denise smiles. Her deep brown eyes flash with passion.

"I want the main event and ten thousand dollars whether I win or lose."

The manager frowns and scratches his head. "Ten thousand and the main event on your second fight. You must be nuts."

"No, I'm not nuts. You saw the reaction. The men almost tore your bleachers down. And they'll come back. You could probably double the price of admission."

"Double the price of admission to see a novice?"

"No. Double the price of admission to see these," says Denise as she opens her robe to expose her bloodied but still incredibly firm breasts and nipples.

The manager can feel an erection start and smiles.

"Let me think about it. I'll call you."

"Please do," says Denise as she closes her robe.

Denise...................to be continued. womenwhofight@aol.com