Abs of Steal
by madison marbury
Abs-olutely fabulous.


Petra threw the dusty old VCR tape at its ducking owner. "Abs of Steel?!" the
cute little Russian platinum blonde shouted at the middle aged brunette
running the garage sale. "'Abs of Steel' you try to sell me? It should be
called 'Abs of STEAL' in order for it to be appropriate the name it has been
given!"

"Hey!" said the seller. "If you don't' want it, fine, but don't' throw it at
me! And anyway, it IS called Abs of Steel, so why are you yelling?"

"Because the steal I am referencing is a spelling altogether not what the tape
as it says on the box," Petra seethed. "Is. How can you not be of
comprehending this? I am calling it 'steal' as in 'stole', because that bitch
stole my fame from me. You Americans and your ignorance of things you don't
know! I, Petra Kemico! I was to be the orginal Abs of Steel girl."

Another garage saler, a single mom carrying a four-year-old boy, overheard and
poked her head in the converation. "You were going to be the "Abs of Steel"
girl? Really?"

"Yes," Petra said, tiredly. "I was the one to have my perfect face on this box
of the tapes of exercising."

"Wow," said the seller, awed. "well, abs."

"What?"

"It's actually not a face on the box," the brunette said. "They're, you know.
Abs. On the box that you threw at me. Trudy, by the way," she said, smiling
and extending her hand for a shake that Petra declined. "Er," Trudy continued
after an awkward pause, "so you have abs of steel then?"

Petra growled. Commoners were so common. She lifted her beautiful Christmas
red Donna Karen shirt and let the commoners gawk at her ridged belly. The
clustered around her and studied.

"Hmm," said the mother.

"Hmm?! Petra said, offended. "Hmm what?"

"Well ... I mean, they're ... steel-ish. Sorta. I guess."

"No no," Trudy said. "You can see some definition. I mean, she's not cut or
anything."

"It's not like I dieted down for today, OK?" Petra said, shoving her shirt
back down petulantly. "It's been a while, you know. You know? They were
better."

"Can I punch them?" asked Trudy.

Petra was offended. "Nyet," she said, getting ready to leave.

"But they're abs of steel, right? You won't feel it."

"Look, if you do it, everyone'll want to, OK?" Petra snapped. "I don't have
the time for a line of punchy punchers all wanting to punch my abs of steel,
regardless of how little I will feel it regardless of how hard they punch. For
then, I will have less time for perusing the sale of the garages."

The mother pouted. "Tammi lets us punch hers."

Petra stopped short. "What?"

"Tammi Webb still lets us punch her abs," the mother said. She could see Petra
was confused. "At parties. Oh for goodness sake- Tammi Webb! The one with abs
of steel on the "Abs of Steel" tapes? The one your think stole your abs of
steel job from you? She lives just down the block there."

Petra thought about whether she was being mocked, but the woman seemed
completely serious. "You will show me please," she said.

The group, now attracting a small crowd of curious stragglers, walked to the
end of the block where a beautiful mansionette with a perfectly manicured lawn
stood on the corner. Trudy rang the doorbell, and soon, a beaming blonde in
black and pink lycra answered.

"Hey Tammi," Trudy said, neighborly.

"Well hey Truds!" Tammi said. "Good to see you! How's that garage sale goin'?

"Great! Gosh, I hate to bother you like this, but ... gosh. Would you be able
to spare a minute for a little ab punching?"

"Why sure!" Tami said, laughing. "I'm always up for ab punching! What with me
being the Abs of Steel girl, it'd look pretty silly if I made excuses saying
you couldn't! So who's throwing the blow today? Your Tom? That man of yours
sure packs a mean right there girl!"

"ME!" said a Russian voice, as Petra dramatically pushed Trudy aside and took
control of the encounter.

"Super!" crowed Tammi, happy as a sparrow in song. "A newbie! Oh, come on down
to the studio, all of ya. I've got some cold Crystal Light in the fridge, and
we can do this all formal like!"

The crowd warily entered the well lit home, and descended to the basement
studio covered in mirrors and strewn with dumbbells and medicine balls.

"This is where the magic happens!" Tammi chirped.

"The magic of stealing," Petra growled.

"Steeling myself for your punches? You betcha!" Tammi giggle, giving Petra a
playful shove in the chest. Petra did not smile. "Oo, somebody's a grumpy
gull," Tammi pouted. "Why don't we get to it, huh?" She slapped her own
stomach; it sounded like she was slapping a drum. "Ready to have at this?
Wanna feel it first? I warn ya, it's hard!"

Petra grit her teeth. She felt now might be the best time to strike; the Tammi
Webb, she was talking very casually, and was certainly not expecting what
Petra was about to unleash. Petra, you see, was not just a personal trainer.
She was also a black belt in three different martial arts, and knew how to use
her body to its maximum leverage to unleash blows of the awesome-inspiring
power. This would be her revenge, Petra thought; humiliating the Tammi Webb in
front of her neighbors, showing them and the world that these supposed abs of
steel the Tammi Webb had were in fact abs of some lesser, fluffier substance.
Abs of marshmallow, perhaps. Abs of fiberglass insulation, well suited to
lining an attic in the dead of Russian winter but not so much for instructing
the pudgy masses on how to work their weak and flabby guts.

Petra thought about all the long years of poverty and ignominity she had
suffered since this woman took her million dollar job from her She focused
that hatred, and in one motion, she fell to one knee, shouted "HA!" and
flailed her left arm in an efficient, deadly arc, slamming forearm slammed
into Tammi's kidney like a retractable steel rod. Instantly she followed with
by bringing her right elbow back as far as she could, then exploding the palm
out into the undersection of the abdomen. "HAI!" Petra cried in anger.
Finally, figuring those two surprise blows were surely enough to penetrate
Webb's defenses, Petra used her head like a ram, and butted the woman full-on
in the stomach. She had no doubt that stomach would then collapse, and the
Tammi Webb would fall to her butt, gasping for air. Petra though about what
her follow-up to this assault would be, for about two nanoseconds. And then
she realized ... her neck was compressing.

Her neck should not be compressing. That was not a possible outcome. It was
very dangerous and could result in serious injury; very quickly Petra lessened
the pressure by jumping off her feet, so that her thighs straddled Tammi's
head, and she hung upside down.

Tammi's head was on Tammi's body. Which was still standing. Which was not
possible.

"Hoo!" Tammi said to Petra's crotch. "Well aren't you the friendly one?"

"Nyet!" Petra growled. She put her arms on the floor and attempted to flip
Tammi backwards, but the trainer wasn't going for it. She twisted her body
quickly one hundred eighty degrees. "Buns of Steel power, activate!" Tammi
shouted. With a sudden squat, she surpised her for by using her butt to jab
her in the stomach. Petra was not prepared, and lost her breath and collapsed
to the floor.

The Russian, on instinct, quickly backpedaled away, clutching her stomach ancd
breathing heavy. The spectators, after a short stunned silence, began to
applaud.

"I hit you full square with enough force to break a cement block three times
over!" Petra said, gasping.

"So?" Tammi said, not even breathing heavy as she reached for a Crystal Light.
"It doesn't say 'Abs of Three Cement Blocks' on the box, does it?"

She raised the glass to her lips. Without even a how-do-you-do, Petra snarled,
sprang to her feet and body tackled Tammi, pinning her back to the floor.

"Whoa!" Tammi said, bemused. "Not for nothing, my friend, but that was a
really nice drink you sent flying there. I'd like to have finished it."

"I'll finish YOU!" Petra screamed, rearing her fists back and beginning a
furious assault on Tammi's taught, tan abdomen. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
Each blow resounded through the studio like a chef tenderizimg the world's
toughest steak. Petra drove her right first like a piston, putting her whole
body into each blow. The audience cringed. It was the sort of display one
would expect to be over quickly- if not from the victim gasping for mercy,
then from the shear exhaustion of the puncher. But Petra had put up a heavy
bag in her personal gym years ago and had been constantly increasing the
length of her sets, to the point where she could work the body hard for ten
solid minutes and not get winded.

Getting winded was not an issue. Getting frustrated was another. Because while
the heavy bag offered resistance, it didn't mock you while you punched it.
Tammi, on the other hand, not only laid there and took it, she made very sure
that Petra and the onlooker knew that despite the Russian's frontal assault,
she was not having any affect. "So you're going to start punching soon?" she
started after the intial assault. "I mean, I like a good tummy rub as good as
the next girl, but ... oh, this is it? This is all you got? I thought you
throwing raisins at me or something. So what, does it get worse from here
somehow? Were you hoping maybe to lull me to sleep with these little girl
punches then hit me with something with some kick to it?"

Exasperated, Petra clasped both hands together in a single entity, raised them
overhead, and flailed them straight down with a horrid shriek, inches above
Tammi's most personal place. Tammi just giggled. "Wow, you've got stamina!"
she said appreciatively. "Dedication too. Most of my stomach punching partners
are so half-hearted. You seem like you really want to hurt me! That's so
cool!"

"Shut UP!" Petra growled, delivering two more blows before stopping to catch
her breath. "Why won't you FALL!?"

"Abs of steel, baby!" Tammi said, licking her lips while rubbing her washboard
tummy. "Oo yeah!"

Petra couldn't stand it anymore. Her eyes darted around the room, through the
hushed neighbors. She spotted a young kid who had picked up a used aluminum
bat at the garage sale. The crowd gasped.

"Abs of steel," Petra seethed. "Meet stick of al-byuminum!"

Once again she charged Webb, leaping into a batting stance with Tammi as home
plate. "Someone stop her!" one of the neighbors cried. But the exercise guru
seemed completely unfazed. Smiling, she held her hand up, commanding silence.
"Think you're gonna knock one out of the park, huh?" Tammi laughed. "Or are
you just gonna strike out?"

"DIE!" Petra screamed. Desperately, she swung with all her might, the meat of
the bat smacking the meat of Tammi's midsection. "Nagh!" Petra grunted. It had
no effect. She pulled it back and tried twice more. The third time she thought
she caught Webb relaxing her abs for a second. But it was only so she could
catch the bat in between the flexed ridges of her abdominals. Petra tried to
yank the bat back for a fourth blow, but couldn't- it was like the barrel was
in the grip of the incredible Hulk. Eventually Petra gave one last desperate,
futile pull, lost her grip, and fell backwards hard on her tuckus. The bat
stayed stuck firmly in the bottom row of Tammi's awesome ripped abs.

"Oh. Was this yours?" asked Tammi, pointing to the bat her abs were holding.
The crowd applauded. They had never seen Tammi pushed to her limits before;
this was awesome. "Hold on, hold on, I'm not done!' the stunning little blonde
said. "Watch this." Soon she started pulsing her stomach like a belly dancer.
Never touching the bat with her hands, she passed the bat up her stomach,
passing it from one set of abdominal ridges to nother. When she got to the
very top, she grit her teeth and flexed hard. A groan of bending metal filled
the air. Then she grabbed the bat by the handle and held it up- she had
squeezed the metal bat flat using only her abdominals. The crowd went wild.
Tammi took a bow, casting a glance over to her partner. Petra was clearly a
flea's nudge from going batshit insane, pounding the floor like a madwoman in
frustration. Tammi started to become slightly worried- she was having a blast,
but the more ... fervent her new playmate got, the more likely it was one of
the bystanders would get hurt.

"Guys," she said, smiling to the crowd as she walked over to Petra, "I think I
don't have to tell you that was one hell of a session. But I know you all have
your garage sale to get back to." Now she was right next to Petra, who snapped
her head up just in time for Tammi to snatch her by the roots of her hair.
Petra almost gave a yelp of pain, but Tammi surreptitiously clamped her hand
over her mouth. "Petra and I," she said to the crowd, "have a little private
business to discuss, so, thanks for coming, everyone! Grab a Crystal Light on
your way out, and have a great sale! Take care! Stay hydrated!"

As the crowd was filing out, Tammi leaned over Petra's ear. "Girl, you're
gonna have to learn to calm down a little. You're gonna drive yourself to an
early grave!"

She eased her hand from Petra mouth. The Russian hissed. "You stole my career!
You're a thief! Thief! Fucking lousy thief!"

Petra just kept on ranting and ranting and ranting, and Tammi sighed. She was
clearly going to have to knock the crazy out of the girl or they weren't going
to get anywhere. "OK", she said, throwing Petra's head to the floor and
spinning to squat over her, "we'll do it the hard way."

Petra boggled. This hussy was now actually thrusting her tight and shapely
buttocks in her face. As if she had not suffered enough indignity today! How
horrid these Americans were to her. But then, something happened. Tammi
started clenching and unclenching her butt, striating the muscle, showing its
indentations and cut. It really was a work of art, the non-crazy part of Petra
realized. This was a pretty amazing pieice of ass. The striations churned and
moved and Tammi clenched and unclenched them, and it seemed to Petra like they
were forming a pattern. Indeed, it seemed to Petra ... that they were turning
into a gigantic ass-sized pair of stone- hard clenched fists.

"Wh-?" she managed to get out before the fists started pummeling her.

Crack! Smack! Whack! Smack! The butt cheeks acted like a pair of independent
pile drivers operated by burly sadistic demolition workers. They threw
combinations, then just the left cheek, then just the right cheek- like it was
some kind of exercis. Like Petra was their speed bag. They broke her nose,
knocked out teeth and blackened her eyes. It was unimaginable. Petra
whimpered, trying desperately to roll away but Tammi was straddling her like a
cage. She tried to block the blows but the butt cheeks slapped her hands away,
or pounded right through them. "Stop!" Petra managed to cry through her broken
mouth. "No more!"

"What's the magic word?" Tammi asked pleasantly, continuing the ass- ault.

"P-p-please!" Petra begged, helpless.

Tammi rose from her squat, and turned on her opponent. Petra curled into a
ball and cried, not in pain, although she certainly was. Rather, they were
tears of shame. "Sh-sh-sh," Tammi coaxed gently, touching her shoulder. "Come
now, none of that. You're a tough one. It's not that bad."

"I'm nothing!" Petra cried. "I was going to be everything, and you!" She
almost collapsed but the words kept pouring out. "I was toughest girl, with
the best abs and the killer bod and the pretty face. And you ... are ... " she
was babbling now, "just better. I thought you were a charlatan, and no. You're
tougher, you're stronger, you're even prettier, damn you. Damn you!" she wept
out loud. "I'm not the best. I'm nothing. I want to die."

"Shhhhh," Tammi said, sitting on the floor next to her and stroking her hair.
"Now you just stop that right this second. You," she said, looking her
straight in the eye, "are an incredibly beautiful woman, with one smokin' hot
body." Tammi ran her hand along Petra's abs, and cooed. "So you're not dialed
in right now. So you didn't diet down the last two months so those cut abs can
really pop through. So what? I can tell you have one incredibly strong core
there. You don't get that by lying around eating Ho-Hos."

Petra sniffed. "I do work hard," she conceded.

"Of course you do!" Tammi said, slapping her comrade's abs to show how hard
they were. "Now c'mon, really. Just because I have abs of steel, doesn't mean
you don't have them also."

"But I did not have gotten the part!" Petra whined ungrammatically. "On the
pretty pretty VCR tapes available for the low low price of just $19.99!"

Tammi laughed. "Look love," she said. "How long ago was that, ten years? When
you were up for that job, was your English as good as it was now?"

Petra considered. "Er," she said, "If you wants to be tentacle about it, I
guess maybe I didn't talk so good as I is doing now," she admitted.

"And do you think," Tammi said, rubbing her broad shoulders, "maybe, since
these were English language tapes, being able to speak very good English was a
big qualification for the job? Maybe so big that, even though they thought you
were a great trainer with a really gorgeous face, not to mention, yes, abs of
steel, they decided to hire someone whose abs were just as good, but was a
native speaker?"

Petra stopped crying. She had never thought about it like that. "You know, I
... I guess it had never been occurred with me," she said at last. "I was so
busy being angry," Petra stood up, in shock. "Of course they would not have
been hiring me!" she almost laughed. "I was speaking the English like- like
the turnip that just fell from the potato truck!"

"A very cute turnip," Tammi grinned, pinching her ass. Petra slapped her hand
away, but smiled for the first time all day. "You know," Tammi said slyly,
"Russia is a potential growth market for the fitness industry. There'd be a
real demand for new "Abs of Steal" tape done for that country."

Petra stopped. She almost cried from happiness. "Are," she stammered, "are you
suggesting I should-?"

"Do a demo tape," Tammi said. "We can do it right here if you want. I have all
the equipment, video and otherwise. I'll even give you pointers."

Petra couldn't believe it. She found herself bouncing in place, giddy as a
schoolgirl. "I can't believe it! Iyee!" she yelped for joy, grabbed Tammi's
face and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. "Spaseeba! Thank you!"

"Thank you," Tammi said, evenly grabbing Petra's face and returning the kiss.

Petra smiled awkwardly for a moment and stopped bouncing. That kiss wasn't as
quick as the first one. She flashed a smile at Tammi, who looked about ready
to come out of her skin. Petra felt sweaty all of a sudden.

"Er ... " Petra managed to say as Tammi spear-tackled her to the floor and
began a long, deep, hot French kiss. Petra fought her for a whole five seconds
before she realized she was slipping her hand down the back of Webb's tights.

Tammi gasped in pleasure. She smiled, and they began testing the limits of
each other's stamina in ways that didn't involve ab punching.