Brionn - a power to be reckoned with.
By Alpesco
Brionn hands out a very hard lesson to four men.


"Be careful," an old man sidled up to me. "Don't take that girl at face 
value. She's called Brionn. She's dangerous." 

I ignored him. I'd been a college boxer five or six years ago, and had 
come to the gym to work out. When this tall, good-looking, dark blonde, 
asked me to come and spar with her, I didn't need asking twice. 

"Leave him alone, Josh," the girl said, climbing into the ring. "I've 
promised not to harm him." 

I wasn't too happy with this sort of talk, and so got in the ring 
determined to show my authority. "Look, we'll just go easy. I don't want 
to hit you too hard." 

"I want you to try and hit me hard," she said as our gloves were 
fastened. "I'm a lot stronger than I look, and I can hit real hard when 
I want. I'm only going to hit you with jabs, but I want you to fight 
back as hard as you can." 

I said nothing. The girl was obviously half deranged. She was tall and 
rangy, easily six foot one, with long, sinuously muscled limbs. She 
probably was quite strong, but I'm six feet myself, and must outweigh 
her by 50%. I was definitely not going to hit her too hard. I'd play 
around with her for a minute or two, and then call it off. She was 
wearing cycle shorts and a brief lycra halter top that displayed her 
well-defined abdominals to perfection. 

My first surprise was how well she moved around the ring, but she was 
still a good 80lb lighter than me, she stood no chance at all. I aimed a 
weak punch in her direction. She avoided it easily, her right hand 
firing off two lightning-fast jabs to my head. 

The gloves were well-padded but I swear I saw stars. My head rocked back 
and the raw force of the blows propelled me back heavily into the ropes. 
I looked across at her with new respect. Her arms must be amazingly 
strong to do that to me with just jabs from the elbow. I hadn't really 
noticed the amount of muscle in them before, but now she was working 
them, I could see that their bronzed length concealed sizeable slabs of 
sleek chunky muscle. 

Those arms were long as well, I was reminded quickly. Her reach was 
inches longer than mine, and she was considerably faster. 

Two more jabs, even harder, struck me in the ribs before I could get out 
of their way. Both really hurt, bruising my ribs and driving the air 
from my lungs. I gasped in surprise. 

"Better defend yourself!" she said. "I've finished warming-up now." 

This time I did. My ribs still hurt, and she hadn't hit me at anywhere 
near full force - but she was so fast. I raised my hands to protect my 
face, and she hit me in the ribs. I lowered them, and she got me in the 
face. Still only jabs, but my ribs were already burning, and the shot to 
my face raised a red-hot welt. There was some cheering from around the 
ring. A small crowd had begun to gather. 

Annoyed now, I struck out with a couple of blows of my own, not full 
force, but harder than I had originally intended. Both missed their 
target to cheers from the watchers as Brionn darted skillfully out of 
their path. Then, from nowhere, three lightning-fast jabs crashed into 
my left temple. The power was immense. The ring rocked and swayed around 
me, and I went down.I couldn't believe it. I'd held my own in college 
boxing championships and I was being made a fool of by this hick girl. I 
scrambled to my feet, the ring still swaying around me. 

"Are you all right?" she asked, concerned. 

"Of course I'm all right," I snapped. "You needn't worry about me. Let's 
get on!" 

I swung again, again hitting only air. I was frightened of defending now 
because she was so fast, picking off my weak spots almost before I knew 
they were there. But my punches were wild. I threw three. Only one hit, 
and that was a glancing blow to her shoulder. I paid dearly for that 
with two jabs to my face, which drew blood, and three powerful blows to 
my lower chest which really, really hurt.I was punching full force now, 
using all my skill, and still I was in trouble. This girl was a natural, 
her shoulders were broad, her waist narrow, her arms seriously strong. 
They came at me now from all angles, at all levels, and they were so 
strong. She was still only jabbing, but some of her shots seemed 
stronger than those I'd had from men twice her weight. Each punch now 
was agonising. I was bruised all over my upper body. My face was numb. I 
was breathless and winded, flailing around desperately as she hit me at 
will. 

"Stay still and let me hit you!" I gasped in exasperation as another of 
my flailing responses sped past her. 

"Okay," she said to my surprise, as she halted her onslaught. "I'll give 
you a shot." She stood still, pointing to her exposed stomach. "Go on - 
hit me." 

I did - moderately at first - and my blow just glanced off her washboard 
abs. It was like hitting a truck tire. I hit again, harder, and then 
again, all to the same effect. 

"Come on," she said, "Surely you can do better than that?" 

I hit twice more, really hard. The punches drove her back a step, and 
she grunted a bit at the last one, but her stomach showed no damage 
whatsoever, those squared washboard abdominals mocking me with their 
resolute power. 

I was exhausted with the effort. "Okay," I said, "but in a real fight, 
with no gloves..." 

"Yes?" she looked at me. 

I looked into her blue-green eyes. "You''d probably still take me," 
I admitted. 

She smiled. 

"Do you aim to do this professionally?" I asked. 

She shook her head, setting her tawny hair flowing. "I just like to 
develop my capabilities to the maximum." She turned away. "I did martial 
arts for a few years, got a couple of black belts. I do different 
things." Someone helped her remove her gloves. "I haven't finished yet. 
I still need to practice hitting at full force. Sometimes I punch bags 
or hit into sand to harden my fists. Today I've got something different 
planned. You can come and watch if you like." 

Curious, I followed her out the back and across the way to a large 
cooled warehouse where sides of beef hung from hooks. I looked at the 
halves of cattle hanging there. "Some of those must weigh hundreds of 
pounds," I said. 

In response, she wrapped her long arms around one of the half carcasses 
and lifted it off its hook as though it were plastic. She was certainly 
strong, even if to the untutored eye she looked anything but. She 
replaced the carcass and led the way to the back of the storeroom where 
two half beef carcasses hung from hooks against the concrete wall. 

"A couple of these are past their storage date. They'll go for bone 
meal, so I can use them for practice." She stood in front of he first 
and clenched her fists. 

"You're going to punch the carcasses?" I said. 

She nodded. "A lot of boxers have done it. Provides the best 
resistance." With that she began to test out the first with a few of the 
jabs she had used on me. They were pretty powerful, swinging the carcass 
on its hook and forcing it into the wall. Then she changed up a gear, 
beginning to hit her target with full hard punches from the shoulder 
with nearly all her strength behind them. I was astonished by the power 
and velocity that her long arms developed as they drove her fists into 
the 300lb carcass. Its thick ribs and heavy leg bones were shielded by 
thick layers of fat and muscle. Yet each of her blows crashed heavily 
into its lifeless form, driving it into the concrete wall behind. 

I watched in growing disbelief as she powered punch after punch into the 
massive carcass. She did not let up. As her concentration deepened, the 
weight and impact of her punches seemed only to grow. And now I could 
see the mark that each individual punishing blow made as it drove into 
the cold hard flesh. 

"One of my trainers called this 'meat tenderising', she gasped between 
punches. "I've done my warm-up now. Let's see how well we can really 
tenderise these steaks." 

I thought she was joking but, with a determined scowl, she began to 
increase the pace and power of her punches, working rapidly to nearly 
double her previous speed. I looked on, open-mouthed. Her stomach tensed 
with the effort, the squared muscles of her lean abdomen rippling as her 
whole body swung into each blow. Stone-hard fists drove deep in to the 
massive bovine chest, leaving two-inch-deep depressions everywhere they 
struck. And slowly, the huge carcass began to lose its shape beneath the 
unrelenting rain of blows. 

I now began to hear the crack and splinter of bone as the giant ribs 
started to break. The realisation seemed to spur her on. Half-closing 
her eyes, she delivered four massive blows to the huge rib cage. Two 
made deep, pit-like, craters in the cold, white chest. The final two 
caved the massive thorax in completely. 

She stopped to draw breath, the sweat rolling down her face and arms, 
her dense shoulder muscles working in sleek slabs beneath her skin. She 
delivered three more shuddering blows to the shapeless mass the carcass 
had become, then, without pausing, she strode to the second, and 
clenched her fists once more. 

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm up in the 'zone' now. This won't take 
nearly so long." She half closed her eyes. 

The first punch she threw was appallingly destructive. Her fist hung 
poised, then sped forward like a missile, crashing inches deep into the 
fresh carcass, and cracking two thick ribs with the first strike. Then 
she did the same again, and then again. I counted fourteen more 
devastating blows before she was at last forced to stop, and lowered her 
punishing fists. The side of beef before her was in ruins - a boneless, 
shapeless mass, literally torn apart by her fists. 

"Seventeen really big ones without easing off," she gasped. "Not bad. 
I'd have preferred twenty, but I don't think I know anyone who can take 
seventeen hits like that and come up smiling." 

"I don't think Mike Tyson could take seventeen like that!" I said in 
wonder. "That's an amazing display of power." 

"I don't think Mike Tyson would just stand there and let me hit him," 
Brionn grinned. "But I do have appallingly strong arms," She stretched 
out a long, long arm and made a bicep. I could not stop myself from 
gasping yet again as I saw one of the most magnificent muscles I had 
ever seen on a woman gather itself from the sleek mass of her upper arm. 
Where seconds before there had been a shapely bronzed, but fairly smooth 
upper arm about thirteen inches round, a mountain range now rose. A 
beautiful firmly peaked and wide-bellied bicep towered above a range of 
lesser muscles, all taut and well-defined. The change had been 
explosive. It was like another arm, the arm of a really strong man, 
somehow attached to this beautiful woman. 

"It's beautiful," I said. 

"Sixteen and a half inches, when pumped," she said, "and it's not for 
show either. The fun part is that when it's relaxed, it's not flexed 
it's nearly invisible." She relaxed her arm, and that awesome muscle 
sank back into her long arm. There was clearly muscle there, you could 
see it ripple and flow sleekly as she moved, but no indication as to its 
staggering size and prominence when flexed. 

I looked back at the ruined carcasses behind me. "But the size of those 
ribs you smashed.." I began. 

"It's just the same as breaking concrete slabs," she answered. "The 
hardest part is believing you can do it. Now all that work has made me 
hungry. You can join me for a steak if you like." 

She showered and I took her to this new place out of town. She'd dressed 
in this real flimsy, pocket-handkerchief mini and a halter top, and 
looked gorgeous. Every lithe, sun-bronzed inch of her poured into 
clothing that emphasised her long, languid, athletic good looks. 

The place was a converted barn, with long trestle tables, nearly empty 
this early in the evening. It boasted the freshest steaks in five 
states. Brionn had clearly worked up a healthy appetite. We demolished a 
16oz steak each, with all the trimmings. 

"Enjoyed your steak?" the proprietor, a man called Malc, asked when we 
had finished. "Its real fresh. We kill our own meat on the premises." 

"Right here?" 

The man nodded. He was about my height but run heavily to fat. "If you 
have a big order, you can even pick out your own beast. We can do things 
for you, or you can shoot it yourself for a small additional charge." 

"I don't believe what I'm hearing," Brionn said. 

"I'll show you," the owner failed to hear the danger signs in Brionn's 
voice, ushering us out the back to where a number of calves, hogs and 
sheep were corralled in pens. 

Three men, one in a sharp suit, stood by the hog pen. 

"There's one of my best customers now," Malc said, "finalising his order 
for a party tonight. Those are two of my kitchen hands with him." 

As we watched, the two hands began to drag a squealing 120 lb hog from 
the pen. They held it as the customer barred the gate and then produced 
a shotgun. 

"I don't believe what I'm seeing!" Beside me, Brionn was blazing with 
fury. 

Just as the gunman was about to fire, the hog tore itself free in panic. 
The gun went off and there was a scream from the terrified animal as the 
shot blasted in to its stomach. The wounded creature charged across the 
lot towards us, mad with pain. 

I had seen children playing at the front of the building where the beast 
was heading. As it passed us, Brionn brought it down in a running 
tackle, one long arm coiling round its neck to force its head to the 
ground while her sinuous legs clamped about those of the panicked animal 
to hold it still. The 120 lb hog struggled wildly, but its strength was 
not great enough to break Brionn's steely grip, and it was forced to 
remain on one side beneath her limber body. 

But the creature's struggles only grew wilder as she held it, the pain 
from the gunshot wound clearly driving it mad. I saw Brionn's face set 
as she made a decision. Her strong left arm still forcing the hog's head 
down, her right rose above the base of its neck, her hand tightening 
into a solid, angular fist, fingers folded to strike with the second 
joint. It hung poised two feet above the screaming creature for a 
moment, before crashing heavily down into the base of its neck. 

The hog screamed, trying to break free with even more vigor, but 
Brionn’s grip was implacable. Twice more Brionn’s solid fist rose and 
fell, each time striking harder and deeper. With the first blow came the 
dull crack of bone, and the hog fell still and silent. The second 
crashed into heavy flesh with a deep tearing and ripping. She waited a 
moment, her fist poised for another strike, but the pig remained still. 
Slowly Brionn uncoiled herself from the animal and rose to her feet. 

"Is it.." I began. 

"It’s dead," she nodded. "It’s neck was broken before the last shot went 
in, but I had to be certain." She turned and strode towards the nearest 
pen, her face resolute. "And now I’m ending this!" 

Her right foot lashed outward and upward to hit the gate, smashing it 
open. The sheep inside ran free. She was turning for the next pen when 
the owner was suddenly in her path, the other three men behind him. 

"Take care of the other pens," she said to me. "I’ll hold these off." 

I obeyed reluctantly. There were four men facing Brionn now, Malc, the 
man who had paid to kill the hog and two hands. I didn’t know how she 
was going to hold them off. She was a good fighter, but there was no way 
she was going to take out four large men. 

"The hell you’re letting my animals loose!" the fat man roared. "Jed, 
Max, stop them!" 

All four advanced on Brionn. She stepped back so that she she stood in 
the five foot gap between the first pen and the barn, and waited. 

One of the kitchen hands struck first. He was a step in front of the 
others and launched an arm forward to grab her shoulder. She recoiled in 
a split second, her right arm lashing forward to drive her solid fist 
into the side of his head like a launching missile. The velocity and 
power of her punch were awesome. The blow exploded into the side of his 
face, knocking him clean off his feet as it spun him around like a top. 
He crashed to the ground as if he had been hit by a steam hammer, his 
face in ruins. 

Brionn’s savage blow gave the men pause. Now they knew what she could do 
with those long arms, and what awesome power they could produce. Now 
too, there were only three of them. 

"Come on!" Malc encouraged the other two. "The boy had a glass jaw 
anyway. She can’t stop all three of us." 

The three came forward in a line. Brionn took another step back, then 
lashed out with her right foot, catching Malc powerfully in the gut. He 
staggered back with a groan, winded. 

Now she delivered three lightning-fast jabs to the head of the second 
kitchen hand, a right, left, right combination that sent him staggering 
backwards, his eye-socket and nose streaming blood. 

The customer who had shot the pig sent a startled roundhouse in Brionn’s 
direction. He was six feet tall and broad, but his punch glanced off 
Brionn’s muscled midriff as she twisted round to face him. 

Now he got to take four of her powerful jabs, all delivered in just over 
a second. They sent him crashing into the barn wall with astonishing 
force. I knew how powerful those jabs were, and I wasn’t surprised to 
see him have to prop himself up against the wall just to stay on his 
feet. Malc was back in it now. He swung a right at Brionn whilst her 
attention was on the customer. It never landed.  Her left arm rose 
sharply to deflect it - as if she had been expecting it all along. Her 
right fist followed through, driving deep into his stomach, and doubling 
him over to meet her rising left. 

Turning her attention back to the bloodied kitchen hand, she gave him 
three more of her will-sapping jabs, all to the head. His face was a 
mass of blood and bruises now, as he stumbled backward, and she had 
ample time to turn ninety degrees and fire three more shots at the 
groggy, would-be hog-shooter. I was astonished. Brionn was more than 
holding her own against the three men, and she wasn’t even using her 
really big punches yet. She looked so athletic and beautiful in her 
painted-on red mini, arms, legs and midriff alive with lithe, rippling 
muscle. 

Stepping back and to one side, so that she had all the men between 
herself and the barn wall, she drew a breath. 

"Think you’re so tough, with your shotguns and four-on-one fights? Well 
now I’m going to take you apart." 

The café owner steadied himself to throw another punch, but Brionn was 
so much faster, and she wasn’t throwing jabs anymore. Her left came in 
straight and hard, with immense speed behind it. It hit him in the head 
and spun him into the barn wall with a loud moan of pain. 

Now she began to strike out in earnest, her long arms pouring on the 
power as they crashed-in again and again with devastating force. Brionn 
was now in complete control. The three men were crushed against the barn 
wall, the power and ferocity of her blows keeping them penned in the 
center of her hitting zone. She knew where each of her huge blows was 
going, and they were shared out evenly between her three protagonists. 
Worst of all, each blow was doing fearsome damage, further reducing her 
opponents’ capacity to fight back or offer any resistance at all. Her 
blows were so powerful that each on its own was capable of badly 
injuring someone. She was delivering them by the load. 

Setting her face, she sent in a dozen more huge blows. The noise of 
their impact echoed across the yard, accompanied by the dull crack of 
bone and loud cries of pain from the three men. And still her shots only 
grew in power. Her fists were causing appalling damage. Malc’s face was 
almost unrecognisable, his cheeks swollen and misshapen, his nose pushed 
over to one side. 

The customer and the kitchen-hand both slumped to their knees, moaning 
in pain. Only the owner still remained on his feet. Brionn stepped back 
a pace, her stone-hard fists tightly clenched. 

"Had enough yet?" she asked. 

There was no answer. 

"I can give you a lot more if you like. And I promise each one will be 
every bit as hard as what you’ve had already - if not harder." 

"No." 

"We’ve had enough!" 

The men were sobbing and shaking now, awed by this girl’s massive power. 
In truth, her power was an enormous turn-on to me as I stood watching. 

"So nothing more like this will ever happen again?" Her voice was stern. 

Three of the men shook their heads. Malc did not. "But this is my 
livelihood.." he stumbled. 

Brionn hit him again. 

"This stops now, right?" 

"Yes..Yes." he nodded. 

"Good. Now the first thing you’re going to do is shut this hellish 
restaurant for the night. Then you’re going to give this stock to a real 
farmer. I don’t want to find an animal here after midnight tonight - 
ever. Comprende?" 

He nodded. 

"While you’re doing that, your businessman friend here can draw up a 
legally-binding compact forbidding the keeping of animals on this land. 
If it happens again the land is forfeited to the SPCA. As for you other 
two," she nodded to the blooded kitchen hands, "You quit your jobs as of 
now. And I better never learn that you’re working with animals again." 
She stood back. "Arranging that should take you a couple of hours. You 
can check into hospital once that’s all done. I shouldn’t leave it too 
long, I warn you." 

"A document signed under duress isn’t legally binding," I whispered as 
the men began to do as Brionn had ordered. 

"What duress?" she grinned. "Who is going to believe that I beat these 
four big men to a pulp on my own? I don’t really think they’ll want to 
spread that story anyhow. In fact this is the first time I’ve taken four 
grown men apart straight on like that with just my fists."