THE PRIZEFIGHT 

 
FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723   

 
The fight had attracted hundreds of men and women from all over the  
country willing to pay the thousand dollar fee to witness a unique  
spectacle. The promoters had arranged to match the two best women  
prizefighters on the east coast in a private contest. The winner  
would receive a fifty thousand dollar first prize. The loser would  
receive five thousand. But more important to the fighters than the  
money, it would give the women the chance to settle a deeply held  
grudge between them. 
 
Georgia stood 5'9" and weighed in at 125. Her dark Florida tan stood  
out in contrast to her bleached blonde hair and gray eyes. She wore  
pink and white short shorts with a pink bikini top. The men in the  
audience sat with their mouths open as she entered the arena.  
Georgia was absolutely shredded without an ounce of body fat. Her  
obviously silicone c-cup's threatened to explode from under her  
skin. Large nipples proudly poked through her satiny bikini top.  
Long lean muscles rippled in her legs as she walked towards the ring  
with her cornerman John. 
 
Lisa by contrast, had the pale white skin that you would expect of 
a New York native. She had raven black hair that matched her  
flashing black eyes. Black hair could also be seen peeking out from  
under her armpits, as befitted her sense of feminism. Lisa  
approached the ring topless, wearing tight, full length black  
spandex pants which cut off in a neat line just below her belly button. 
This gave her a look that recalled bare knuckled boxers at the turn of  
the century. At 5'8" 124, she appeared to be Georgia's equal in strength  
and reach. Not quite as cut as Georgia, her natural c-cups bounced  
quite a bit as she approached the ring with her cornerman Paul. 
 
The rules of the contest reflected the women's hatred and desire to  
punish her opponent. Each woman sported brutal looking brown leather 
bag gloves, tightly laced over hard taped knuckles. Rounds were to be  
two minutes in duration with three minute rests. This would ensure  
that each of the fighters would be able to use maximum effort, and  
that the fight wouldn't be over too quickly. If one of the women  
went down, she would remain down until she got up. If the round  
ended with a fighter down, she must reach her corner by herself,  
without aid of her cornerman. And the most punishing aspect of all,  
the fight would not be over until the winner could not continue, the  
loser was declared nearly dead, or the winner decided that she had  
had enough satisfaction. 
 
There aren't many men who would enter the ring under these  
circumstances. But in they strode, proud and confident in their  
abilities. Between them, they had beaten countless men and women in  
the ring while honing their skills. Georgia did it because she  
enjoyed the ultimate in competition. Lisa, because she enjoyed  
dominating opponents and satisfying her own sadistic urges. Both  
women came in model beautiful, but at most, only one of them would  
leave that way. 
 
The contest would begin with a warm-up bout for each fighter. The  
bouts would be without rounds, and end with the traditional  
ten-count. Each fighter was allowed to choose the man who would  
fight her opponent. The primary purpose of this was to enable the  
audience to evaluate the women's pugilistic skills before wagering  
on the main event. 
 
 
WARM-UP BOUT 1 
 
For Georgia's opponent, Lisa had chosen a hairy mountain of a man.  
His boxing skills were poor, but she knew from personal experience  
that he could absorb a great deal of punishment. Lisa also wouldn't  
mind a bit if he got lucky and landed a crippling blow on the  
bleached blonde bitch. 
 
As the bell sounded, Georgia cautiously approached her male  
opponent. She was glad she hadn't charged in when one of his ham  
like fists whizzed past her head. As he swung a second blow, she  
ducked and slammed a right hand into his hairy belly. Unfortunately,  
all this did was elicit a grunt from him. She barely had time to  
dance back to avoid a crushing uppercut to her chin. 
 
Ordinarily, Georgia wouldn't be worried. She had defeated men his  
size and larger with her superior skill, speed, and endurance. But  
tonight she couldn't afford to waste her energy wearing him down.  
She had to risk taking him out at the earliest opportunity. As he  
continued to swing at her, she peppered his belly with jabs. He was  
still too dangerous to get close enough to put him away. After about  
five minutes of dancing with him, Georgia decided that he had slowed  
down sufficiently to move in. Dodging a straight right, she darted  
in and put her whole body into a right hook that connected with his  
jaw. A left uppercut snapped his head back with a spray of sweat.  
But before she could finish him off, he managed to cover his face with  
his massive arms. 
 
The audience was going wild, but Georgia was frustrated as she  
rocked her opponent with bodyshots. Her biceps stood out like blood  
engorged baseballs. Her fists tore up the underside of his fat  
belly. Sweat started to roll down her face. She was so busy trying  
to finish him off quickly, that she failed to see the blow that he  
blindly threw. It caught her in the side of the head and staggered  
her. More by instinct than conscious thought, the man swung another  
roundhouse right that connected with the side of Georgia's face,  
sending her spinning to the canvas. The audience had quieted  
somewhat at this surprising turn of events. 
 
The man felt power surge back into his body as he looked down upon  
the struggling form of the bitch that had caused him so much pain.  
He didn't even wait for Georgia to regain her feet before he charged  
over and threw a right uppercut that caught her on the breastbone  
and threw her back onto the ropes. It was Georgia's turn to cover up  
as she tried to regain her senses. Fortunately for her, most of his  
power had been expended earlier in the bout. The blows that  
buffeted her arms were doing little damage and he was running out  
of steam. Acting like she was again staggered, she dropped her  
guard, and lolled with her back on the ropes. The man, seeing the  
helpless woman swaying before him, summoned all his energy for the  
final blow that would send her head flying back into the fifteenth  
row. 
 
As he swung, Georgia snapped back to attention and ducked under his  
arm. Off balance, the man went crashing into the ropes. Spinning him  
by his left shoulder, she pushed him back onto the ropes. With her  
left hand on his chest, she sent her right hand crashing into his  
jaw four times. On the fourth blow she heard the crack of bone  
breaking. Taking her left hand off his hairy breast. She let him  
slump unconscious to the mat. The crowd was on its feet cheering for  
the woman who had defeated a man almost three times her size. But  
Georgia wasn't pleased with her performance. Her lapse in  
concentration had cost her. And with an opponent as dangerous as  
Lisa, she may have already lost. 
 
Lisa was ecstatic. Not only had her boxer kept Georgia in the ring  
for eight grueling minutes, he had hurt her. Not much, but probably  
enough. 
 
 
WARM-UP BOUT 2 
 
For Lisa's opponent, Georgia had chosen the most skillful male boxer from  
her gym. A compact, well muscled black man, who had about a thirty  
pound advantage over Lisa. Georgia had hoped that his speed and  
skill would keep Lisa occupied for a long, exhausting bout. And at  
this point, it might be the key to her survival. 
 
At the sound of the bell Lisa approached the center of the ring in a  
stance with both fists raised in front of her breasts like John L.  
Sullivan. Her male opponent started to smirk when he saw this. 
 
The man had to smile. Where had this arrogant bitch learned to box?  
She was shuffling towards him a half step at a time with her  
head exposed. She was making little circles with her fists, held in  
front of her tits, like something out of an old movie. And they were  
nice tits. Gently swaying back and forth as her strong pectoral  
muscles transmitted the motion of her arms. Her soft pink nipples  
making them look like two friendly puppies begging to play. Jesus  
Christ!!! 
 
As Lisa moved in, she thought of the pleasure she would get wiping  
that smile off his face. Five feet. She continued to move towards  
him. Four feet. She could see his pig eyes moving down to her  
breasts, the smile growing. Three feet. He never had a chance. As  
his eyes glanced again at her tits, her fist flashed up and caught  
him full on the lips. Stunned, he just stood there as her left hand 
smacked him twice more on the same spot. She then stepped in and  
broke his nose with a straight right hand. Her left flashed into his  
jaw carrying the force generated by her twisting shoulders. His  
mouthpiece flew out, followed by two front teeth. He didn't even  
have time to start bleeding before he hit the canvas. The audience  
sat in stunned silence for a few seconds before breaking into wild  
applause. So far, the display of feminine power had exceeded their  
wildest expectations. 
  
Lisa allowed herself a smile as she surveyed her work. The once  
proud man, the man who had dared smirk at her, lay at her feet like  
a sorry sack of shit. He was pouring blood from his nose and mouth.  
And the way his lips were split and swelling, he wouldn't be smiling  
at anybody for a long time. 
 
Georgia felt sick. Lisa had destroyed her fighter in the first  
thirty seconds of the match. She wasn't even sweating from the  
lights yet. Georgia left her seat and headed back to the dressing  
room where she would have an hour to prepare for the main event. 
 
 
THE DRESSING ROOMS 
 
Lisa shadowboxed in her dressing room. The "warm-up" bout hadn't been  
much of a challenge. She smiled as she thought of Georgia's  
beautiful silicone knockers punched flat. Her face beaten to bloody  
hamburger. Her tubes ruptured. Hell, maybe she could knock the  
hair off of her head. As her cornerman Paul quietly worked behind  
her, she wheeled around and gave him a shot to the balls with her  
rock hard taped fist. He lay on the ground moaning, knowing better  
not to ask. 
 
Georgia lay on a table while her cornerman John massaged her  
muscles. "We know she's fast and strong, but we don't know if she  
has your stamina or toughness." John said. "She's never had a fight  
last more than five rounds." Georgia groaned as he reached her sore  
sternum. "The way we agreed to schedule the rest periods, she wont  
need a lot of stamina. And as for toughness, we'll just have to see." 
replied Georgia. Tendons crackled as she curled her fingers into a  
fist. 
 
 
THE MAIN EVENT 
 
ROUND 1 
 
The opponents circled each other. Each occasionally flicking out a  
jab to test her opponents defenses. They were in the process of  
"feeling out" their opponent. Learning each others rhythms. Lisa was  
moving like a normal boxer now. Georgia wouldn't fall for the tit  
fake. As the bell sounded to end the round, both woman looked  
reluctant to return to their corners. It would be a long night.  
 
ROUND 2 
 
The first half of round two continued like round one. But now the  
jabs were coming a little quicker and harder. Especially from Lisa.  
Georgia's head was snapped back by a left, and she barely managed to  
slip the combination right. She did get in a solid body shot to  
Lisa's abs. Lisa just smiled, her tits didn't even jiggle from the  
blow. Georgia wasn't feeling any more confident at the end of the  
round. 
 
ROUND 3  
 
The bitch has made her first mistake, thought Georgia, as Lisa  
committed a shot to Georgia's slender waist. Georgia's rock hard abs  
absorbed the blow as she launched a short right to Lisa's face. The  
right didn't do much damage, but it kept Lisa from seeing the left  
that nearly tore her head off. Lisa staggered as Georgia hit her  
with three hard fists to the head, before she brought her guard back  
up. Georgia quickly switched to Lisa's abs, rocking them with a  
dozen solid punches. The bell rang and the referee quickly stepped  
in to stop Georgia. It was her turn to smile now as Lisa returned to  
her corner with her gloved hand held to her stomach. 
 
ROUND 4 
 
Georgia quickly moved in to engage Lisa. Lisa tried to hold her off  
with her lightning fast jabs, but Georgia didn't care. She took the  
punishment to get inside where she continued to punish Lisa's abs.  
Lisa tried to return Georgia's blows, but five hundred sit-ups a day  
had made Georgia's waist like hitting a telephone pole. By the end  
of the round, both fighters were soaked with sweat. Lisa's pale skin  
was red where the bag gloves had tattooed her stomach. As she  
returned to her corner, Georgia was pleased to note the way her abs  
heaved as she breathed heavily.  
 
Back in Georgia's corner, John sponged Georgia down while warning  
her not to get overconfident. "She's not finished yet, but keep that  
up for a couple more rounds, and you'll own her." 
 
Lisa's cornerman kept his eyes averted as he attended her, and tried  
to hide his true feelings. Sweat was running in rivers down her  
chest, collecting on the undersides of her breasts. The damage to  
her stomach muscles was obviously making it uncomfortable for her to  
breath. He had been waiting a long time to see this. 
 
ROUND 5 
 
Georgia again ignored Lisa's punches as she drove Lisa into a  
corner. Looking down she watched her biceps peak and forearms bulge  
as her leather clad fists smashed Lisa on her beltline. At this  
point, Lisa's abdominal muscles were too tired for her to keep them  
tensed. Desperately, she flexed them in response to Georgia's blows.  
After about a minute of this punishment, her abs finally gave  
completely. Georgia felt her left fist bury itself to the wrist.  
Lisa let out a huge "ooff" and threw her arms around Georgia. Bad  
move. Georgia, her left arm hooked around Lisa's neck, ripped  
another half dozen blows into Lisa's unprotected stomach and ribs.  
Georgia then released her and shoved Lisa into a corner. Lisa just  
stood there with her arms barely raised as Georgia connected with  
another half dozen assorted shots to her head. Lisa fell heavily to  
the canvas just as the round ended. 
 
Georgia felt pumped as she watched Lisa spend the next minute  
struggling back to her corner leaving a trail of blood from a broken  
nose. But it was nothing compared to what she would do to her in the  
next round. 
 
ROUND 6 
 
Lisa knew she was in serious trouble. Georgia was proving tougher  
than she had given her credit for. But there are ways to destroy  
even the toughest opponents, even if means bending the rules a bit.  
Lisa knew her abs could only take about ten more seconds of punishment  
before they failed again. As Georgia moved in, Lisa used her speed  
to rock her with a straight right. Georgia ignored the hit and  
started slugging Lisa's stomach as she had in the previous rounds.  
Lisa returned the first three punches into Georgia's washboard  
stomach. Putting all her strength into her next punch, she  
ripped a blow into the soft mound between Georgia's legs. Georgia's  
face contorted in agony and her legs wobbled. She instinctively  
wrapped her arms around Lisa's shoulders. It was now Lisa's turn to  
work over her opponents unprotected abs. She swore she could feel  
Georgia's spine through her gloves as she drove her back into a  
corner. Lisa stepped back to take advantage of Georgia's lowered  
guard. It was all Georgia could do to stand, as her head was snapped  
back and fourth, the unyielding gloves tearing skin. Her whipping  
blonde hair threw oceans of sweat into the crowd. This was soon  
followed by a fountain of blood, as Lisa paid her back for her broken  
nose. After the bell sounded, Lisa finished up with one more punch to  
Georgia's formerly beautiful nose. 
 
Georgia's cornerman grabbed her as she collapsed onto the stool.  
Georgia's face was a mess. Her nose was broken, her lips were split,  
and one eye was swelling shut. Blood and sweat rolled down her chest  
between her heaving breasts. "Jesus, you've got to stay away from  
her. Try to hold her off on the outside until you've had a chance to  
recover." 
 
ROUND 7 
 
Georgia tried to take John's advice. She managed to keep Lisa away  
with jabs for the first thirty seconds. But her swollen eye betrayed  
her as Lisa caught her on the ear. Georgia went down heavily on the  
stained canvas. She managed to stagger back to her feet, but she was  
clearly out of it. Lisa drove her back against the ropes with a series  
of painful jabs. She enjoyed the feeling of her powerful triceps  
flexing as they drove her fists into Georgia's face. Georgia's blood  
covered her gloves, and was splattered all over her pale skin, making  
her look more like a butcher than a boxer. She stepped back a moment  
to survey her handiwork. Georgia was leaning back against the ropes,  
her hands sloppily held at her sides. Lisa focused on Georgia's  
breasts. The breasts that had all of the male audience members so  
entranced. Their nipples still protruded defiantly through her blood  
and sweat stained top. Well Lisa decided, she had better fulfill  
another long-standing fantasy before the bought was stopped.  
Taking careful aim, she shot a right uppercut into Georgia's left  
breast. The hard leather of Lisa's bag glove exploded under  
Georgia's mammary, sending it flying upwards, and ripping her top  
open. Before Georgia had even felt the first wave of indescribable  
agony, Lisa had hit her vulnerable tits another three times. Georgia  
weakly tried to cover up her injured breasts, but this just gave  
Lisa the chance to alternate more blows into her face and crotch. 
 
Somehow, Georgia remained on her feet until the end of the round. It  
took her thirty seconds to stagger back to her corner. John helped  
her onto the stool and removed her now useless top to reveal her  
ruined breasts. Georgia's left breast sagged noticeably lower than  
her right, which seemed to have shifted towards her armpit. Both  
breasts were bruised and swollen, their nipples puffy. In a pained  
voice Georgia begged "John, you've got to help me. I can't  
go another round with my tits like this. Try to put them back."                                  
John was taken back by this request, but he complied. He gently  
cupped her once firm breasts. Georgia gasped and stiffened like she  
had been shocked. Through clenched teeth she croaked "Keep going." 
Ignoring Georgia's whimpers, John started to push and massage her  
tits. Georgia fought not to black out from the pain as John worked  
her sensitive implants back into position. Gradually the pain  
decreased to a dull ache, and her nipples began to respond to the  
kneading of John's strong hands. 
 
Lisa was overwhelmed with feelings of dominance and pleasure from  
inflicting such damage upon her opponent. She enjoyed the sight of  
Georgia, slumped in her corner twitching with agony as her cornerman  
worked on her. Her own cornerman Paul, was trembling slightly as he  
worked on her. Even the crowd had grown silent as they watched the  
match turn into a one sided slaughter. Lisa hoped that Georgia would  
stupidly stand in front of her again this round. She'd make sure  
that the blond bitch would be wearing her plastic tits on her back. 
 
ROUND 8  
 
At the sound of the bell Georgia barely managed to stand in her  
corner and wait as Lisa stalked her. Lisa started by flicking  
painful jabs at Georgia's face and breasts. She didn't want to  
finish her off to quickly. Lisa ducked as Georgia put all her  
remaining strength into one last surprise roundhouse right. Lisa had  
been expecting something like that. Georgia doubled over and fell to  
the canvas clutching her crotch as Lisa hit her again in her  
womanhood. A dazed Georgia managed to crawl to the center of the  
ring and get to her knees. Before she could even attempt to get  
to her feet again, Lisa rushed over and snapped her head back with  
and underhand right. Georgia crumpled on her back as Lisa raised her  
arms in victory. 
 
Lisa paraded around her vanquished opponent. She had hoped to do  
even more damage, but she should have known that the blonde bitch  
wasn't tough enough to take it. The crowd started to respond to her  
as she displayed the female body that dominated everyone present.  
Their cheers grew deafening as she raised her gloved arms and flexed  
biceps that matched her c-cups. 
 
Unknown to Lisa, Georgia had managed to turn over and get up on  
all fours. The crowd started to cheer the valiant effort as she  
incredibly got back on her feet. Georgia shuffled over to Lisa,  
where the brunette stood, arrogantly flexing her muscles for the  
crowd. Slapping a hand over one of Lisa's bulging biceps, she spun  
her around and sent a straight right crashing into her face. Georgia  
attacked with the fury of the animal that she had been reduced to.  
Fist after fist crashed into Lisa's body with superhuman strength  
brought on by a surge of adrenaline. With Lisa on the ropes, Georgia  
savagely attacked her breasts in retribution. Lisa screamed as  
Georgia's fists tore up the soft fatty tissues which she had never  
allowed any man or woman to touch before. After delivering thirty  
seconds worth of thudding blows, Georgia's adrenaline finally ran  
out and the frenzy ended. Lisa barely kept her feet in a sheer  
effort of will. Her once virgin breasts now looked like something  
out of national geographic. 
 
Georgia allowed herself a mental smile as she thought that Lisa  
would be needing breast implants of her own now. Summoning one last  
effort, she crouched and whipped a fist up from the floor between  
Lisa's wobbling thighs. Lisa screamed like a girl as she sank to her  
knees and then rolled over on her side unconscious. Georgia threw  
her burning arms up and raised her head in victory for the wildly  
cheering crowd. She barely managed to hear the referee declare her  
victory, before she blacked out and fell on top of her still opponent. 
 
 
 
 
* The characters of Georgia and Lisa are inspired by bodybuilders  
Georgia Fudge and Lisa Lyon, both popular in the early eighties.  
Any gif's which readers could upload to accompany this story would 
be appreciated. 
 
 
 
 
                          THE PRIZEFIGHT II 
                            CLUB CHAMPION 
                          ----------------- 
 
 
All of the members of the Westside Boxing Club crowded around the  
ring to watch the club championship match being decided. In the  
ring, the defending champion Butch Greyson was tearing his opponent  
apart in the second round. At one hundred and ninety pounds, Butch  
wasn't the largest fighter in the club, but everyone knew he was the  
meanest. He kept his reputation intact as he continued to wail away  
on the challenger, even as he went down. The referee quickly stepped  
in and stopped the beating. Butch retrieved the club championship  
belt from his corner and paraded around the ring yelling "If anyone  
wants to try and take this from me, let me know, anyplace, anytime." 
 
Later, as he came out of the locker room, Butch bumped into one of  
the clubs growing number of female members. He wasn't surprised,  
women often threw themselves at him after witnessing such a primal  
battle for dominance as he won today. She was an attractive  
brunette, almost as tall as himself at about 5'9". 
 
"Hey, your Lori, right? Didn't I fight your boyfriend last month?" 
 
Lori kept a neutral tone as she replied "Yeah, you broke his jaw.  
He's still eating through a straw." 
 
"Looking to trade up to a real man?" asked Butch. 
 
"Actually, I was looking to take you up on your offer. You know,  
anyplace, anytime."  
 
"You got another boyfriend for me to beat up?" 
 
"Yeah, I've got a challenge for you. Tonight at ten, after closing.  
Bring your belt, your going to lose it." 
 
"On one condition, if I win, I get you." 
 
Lori smiled "If you win, you can do anything you want to me. If you  
lose, I do anything I want to you. Deal?" 
 
"Why not? There isn't anyone here I can't beat. See you at ten." 
 
Butch came out of the locker room at ten and entered the darkened  
gym. As he approached the lit ring, he saw Lori approach from the  
direction of the women's locker room alone. 
 
"What's the matter? Your fighter chicken out?" 
 
"God, your slow as well as ugly. In case you haven't figured it out  
yet. I want your belt."  
 
"Hey, I don't fight no girls. Why don't we just jump ahead to what  
you really want." Grabbing his balls Butch said "I've got your prize  
right here." 
 
Lori looked at this display with disgust. "What's the matter you  
macho asshole, afraid to fight a women. Afraid that a women is going  
to kick your ass and take your belt. Why don't you get in the ring  
and fight me like a man you ball-less worm." 
 
Butch was pissed. Who was this bitch to challenge his masculinity?  
"You want to fight like a man? Then lets fight like men. No gloves,  
no rules, last man standing wins." 
 
"Or last women," replied Lori as she calmly stepped through the  
ropes. 
 
"One last thing bitch. If you want to fight like a man, take your  
shirt off." 
 
"Why do we need clothes at all, unless you've got something   
to hide." 
 
"All right bitch, you were going to be seeing me later anyway,"  
replied Butch as he angrily struggled with his shorts and jock. 
 
Lori allowed herself a smile as she stripped out of her sweats. She  
had already won the mental battle and was looking forward to  
the coming physical battle. Her body was well muscled from years of  
bodybuilding. Though she did not appear big, she weighed in at one  
hundred and forty six pounds. Her fifteen inch arms sported biceps the  
size of baseballs when she flexed. She held the gym record for  
double arm curls in her weight class at one hundred and fifty  
pounds. Most men in her gym couldn't match her. And that was what  
she was doing here tonight, looking for more challenges. 
 
Butch liked what he saw. Lori had an awesome body. She had long  
muscular legs topped by a very thin washboard waist. Her B-cup  
breasts looked round and firm with large dark nipples pointing  
upwards. Perspiration had started to bead and trickle off her  
prominent pecs between her breasts as she warmed up with some  
shadow boxing. He had to admit that she looked serious. But he  
intended to quickly teach her who was boss before he claimed his  
prize in the center of the ring. 
 
"Lets go," Butch said. "We've got a lot to do later after I've won." 
 
Lori didn't say a word. She just inserted her mouthpiece, raised  
her taped knuckles, and slowly approached the center of the ring.  
Butch danced in the center of the ring waiting for her. He was  
beginning to enjoy the feeling of his balls swinging in front of her.  
He was getting hard with the anticipation of his dominance over her.  
As she entered his range, he shot a quick jab at her head, and was  
shocked that she was quick enough to cleanly duck it. He was even  
more shocked when she shot her fist into his nose. Christ that hurt.  
Enraged, he swung a roundhouse right at the side of her head which  
she again ducked. Her fist countered with a loud thud to his side  
which knocked his breath out. Standing, she delivered a combination  
left right to his chin which sent him to the canvas. 
 
Its amazing how fast men can lose a hard-on, thought Lori, as she  
watched Butch get up off the floor. Lori had reduced him to a  
bloody mess in less than thirty seconds. Lori had no illusions  
though, the damage was mostly cosmetic, coming from a broken nose. 
 
Butch got up enraged and charged Lori. Lori allowed him to drive  
her into the ropes with his wildly swinging fists. Butch took  
advantage of Lori's position with a series of punches to her thin  
waist which would cut her down like a tree. Butch was amazed as his  
hands smacked against her rippled abdomen. It was like hitting a  
telephone pole. His hands were hurting. At the end of his flurry,  
Lori dropped her guard to let him see the look of contempt on her  
face. She then started her own offensive, peppering his face with  
hard jabs. Butch's head snapped back and forth as she drove him  
towards the opposite side of the ring. He was powerless against her  
speed and strength. Eventually he found his back against the ropes.  
Lori crouched low and started ripping shots to his naked stomach  
with her balled fists. Butch wanted to fold, it felt as though he  
was being shot, but Lori's shoulder was preventing him from  
falling. Lori took pleasure from working her biceps on something  
more fun than the heavy bag. Stepping back quickly, she delivered  
three right crosses to his face before he had time to fall. 
 
Lori felt truly alive now as she looked down upon her vanquished  
opponent. Boxing with her boyfriend had been fun until Butch had put  
him in the hospital, but it couldn't compare to this. Entering the  
ring naked and pitting your body against a males in a contest  
where only one person would be standing at the end. 
 
"Get up." 
 
Butch struggled to all fours. He saw drops of blood falling from his  
face to splatter the ring. As he managed to get to his knees, he saw  
Lori dancing on the balls of her feet in front of him. Jesus, this  
couldn't be happening. He was the club champion, and he was getting  
his ass kicked by a woman. Lori moved closer. 
 
"Get up. Get up and give me a fight. Show me how to fight like a  
man. Or are you enjoying losing to a girl?"  
 
Butch's next action came from some sort of instinct deep inside. He  
summoned his remaining strength and shot a hard taped fist into her  
crotch. Lori screamed and bent over grabbing her womanhood. Still  
on his knees, Butch sent another punch into the pain wracked face in  
front of him. Lori spun and landed heavily on the mat in a fetal  
position. Butch managed to gain his feet above her. 
 
"No rules. Remember bitch?" Butch spit out of bloody teeth. 
 
Butch was feeling better now, watching Lori turn over and get to  
her knees. Before she could get up, he quickly rushed over and  
delivered a low right which caught her square on the mouth and sent  
her back down. 
 
"Come on bitch, what's the matter? I thought you wanted to fight some  
more." 
 
Butch felt good now. The memory of his earlier beating in a fair  
fight was already fading and becoming distorted. He allowed Lori to  
barely get to her feet before he moved in again. She was barely able  
to stand on wobbling legs. Butch sent a series of roundhouses to her  
unprotected head. He then used his superior weight to shove her into  
the nearest corner. Helplessly trapped, he started to pound her  
now yielding midsection. Moving up, he took careful aim and  
flattened her perky sweat and blood covered breasts. After a few  
moments he stood back exhausted and surveyed his handiwork. Lori  
was all fucked up. Blood, her own blood now, ran down her face from  
a cut above the eye and a split lip. Her breasts sagged and her  
nipples were puffy. He couldn't believe she was still standing.  
Well, he would take care of that. 
 
"Hope you weren't planning on children bitch," he sneered as his  
fist rocketed for her ovaries. 
 
Instinctively Lori managed to twist her hips and only take a  
bruising blow to the upper thigh. Wrapping her arms around his neck,  
she responded with a knee to his balls. Butch screamed like a woman  
as his sensitive manhood became the target. Butch staggered to the  
center of the ring. Lori slowly and painfully left the corner to  
pursue him. Both fighters knew that the next exchange would decided  
the contest. With no thought to defense they started exchanging  
blows. In the end, Butch could only watch the final blow as Lori  
flexed a powerful tricep to send his head snapping back into  
oblivion. 
 
When he regained consciousness he felt worse than he ever had in his  
life. He was used to giving beatings, not taking them. His balls  
were aching from the knee Lori had given him, drowning out the pain  
from the rest of his body. Oddly, he felt his back resting on  
something hard. Flexing his burning abs, he managed to raise his  
body. Lori was standing in front of him. Evidently he had been out  
long enough for her to take a shower and get cleaned up. She was  
standing in front of him topless, wearing his championship belt. He  
felt a shock of fear go through his body as he realized the position  
he was in. Lori had tied his legs spread eagled to the top rope.  
His hands were tied across his chest, and his balls were hanging  
down in the corner. He looked down to see that his scrotum had  
swollen to the size of a melon and had turned purple and blotchy. 
 
"Aren't you going to congratulate the new club champion?" she asked. 
 
"Jesus Lori, please get me to a hospital," he whimpered. 
 
"You know, all I intended to do was to take your belt. But that was  
before that shit about having children. Now I'm going to take the  
rest of the prize. Remember, the winner gets to do anything she  
wants to the loser. Well you weren't man enough for me to finish my  
workout. Now I'll have to finish without you." 
 
Butch watched with a sick fascination as Lori started to shadow box  
in front of him. After a few minutes, she was again glistening with  
sweat. Her upper body was pumped. Her hands blurred as she moved.  
How the hell did he ever think he could have beaten her? She now  
moved into the corner and started to lightly jab at his swollen  
balls. Butch's eyes bugged as he felt the gentle tapping and heard  
her fists lightly patting him. Her breasts swayed rhythmically from  
side to side as she moved, her nipples erect and excited. 
 
"Say good night Gracie," said Lori as she darted in and sent an  
uppercut with her bare fist to his manhood. 
 
He heard the sickening slap and watched his balls fly up in the air  
in front of him. He saw Lori duck down and fire a straight right at  
his battered sack. This time he felt a crack through his entire body,  
and knew that she had split one of his balls like a grape. His last  
thought before he lost consciousness again was that she looked like  
she still had plenty of energy left. 
 
On her way out Lori did Butch the favor of calling an ambulance.  
Her lone figure walked alone and unafraid down the mean city streets 
with the championship belt over her shoulder. She would now have to 
look elsewhere for a better challenge. 
 
 
 
                          THE PRIZEFIGHT III 
                             CASH FIGHT 
                          ----------------- 
 
 
Joey Lopez had heard there was a woman fighting on the circuit, but  
he had never expected to find himself facing her. The fights were  
highly illegal. Bare knuckles matches with few rules. Last man  
standing wins. Held in warehouses, basements, and back rooms. The  
fights were patronized by wealthy gamblers who were willing to pay  
outrageous fees to witness boughts they couldn't see in Vegas. An  
outside witness to tonight's event would have been puzzled to see  
limousines discharging well dressed men and their trophy girlfriends  
in front of the old factory. Each had paid thousands for admission  
and would gamble away tens of thousands more on what amounted to  
human cockfights.  
 
Joey was fighting in the tenth and final bought. He wasn't happy  
about fighting the woman for a number of reasons. He was one of the  
best fighters on the circuit. An ex-professional boxer who had been  
banned from the sport for participating in fixed fights. Tonight's  
fight wasn't fixed. Fixing a fight on the circuit could get you  
killed. So why were his talents being wasted on this woman? And why  
were the odds only two to one in his favor? They should be at least  
ten to one. 
 
Sharon waited patiently for her bought to begin. The attendants were  
mopping the blood and sweat from the floor of the freight elevator  
which served as the ring. It wouldn't do to have a fighter slip and  
hurt himself accidentally with the kind of money that was being  
wagered.  
 
The announcer called the first fighter into the ring. "Ladies and  
gentleman. Introducing at six feet and one hundred and ninety five  
pounds, with a record of twenty and two, the former Chicago champion, 
Joey Lopez!" 
 
The crowd cheered as Joey shed his robe and entered the ring with  
his arms raised. Sharon had to admit that he appeared to be a  
formidable opponent. From what she had heard, he had been in line  
for a title shot before he had been banned. 
 
The announcer continued, "And introducing a special challenger, at  
five feet eleven inches and one hundred and seventy pounds, with a  
record of three wins, no losses, the challenger, Sharon Moore. 
 
The crowd went berserk as Sharon shed her robe and entered the ring.  
From the waist down she was wearing a tight fitting blue spandex  
exercise bottom, which clung to her muscular thighs. From the waist  
up, she wore nothing but a thin coat of oil. Her body was magnificent.  
At her height and weight, she was not hugely muscled, but her  
sixteen inch arms were still bigger than those of most of the men  
watching. There wasn't and ounce of fat on her, unless you counted  
her high riding C-cup breasts, which had started as double D's before  
she had started training seriously. Her dark nipples stuck out  
straight, big as finger tips, betraying their excitement. 
 
Sharon had the face of a model with black hair and blue-gray eyes.  
But if you looked close you might notice a few scars, and a nose that  
had been broken as she paid her dues. Sharon had been introduced to  
boxing at an early age. Her father had been a golden gloves champion,  
and had taught her and her brothers to box. She loved boxing, and had  
often knocked out her brothers in their small basement ring. During  
college, she had joined a co-ed boxing gym and had won all of her  
boughts. The state she was in didn't have professional female  
boxing. So when a promoter for the underground fighting circuit had  
approached her with an offer, she took him up on it.  
 
Her first fight had been against an aggressive young black teenager  
looking for some easy money. Sharon destroyed him within two  
minutes. In the process she found that she liked fighting on the  
circuit better than regular boxing. There was a certain purity about  
the sport. No judges, no decisions, the winner was the one able to  
leave the ring. She also discovered that she enjoyed beating men  
like dogs. Not only physically, but mentally. Most of the men she  
faced had fragile egos, which were totally shattered by a loss to a  
woman. She had even heard that a man from her gym had committed  
suicide, after he had lost to her in a particularly one sided affair. 
 
Each fighter entered the elevator from an opposing gate. It was then  
lowered about four feet to form a pit about fifteen feet square. The  
small crowd moved to the edge to watch as the fight began. 
 
Joey wasn't one to take chances. Girl or not, he understood that  
anything could happen in this type of fight. With no referee or ring  
doctor, men had died in these fights. As he closed with Sharon in  
the center of the pit, he planned to use his reach advantage to  
score first. Jabbing with his lightning fast left, he was amazed to  
find that Sharon was able to dart back a step and make him miss  
completely. Moving forward, he tried again with two quick flicks of  
his fist. Again, Sharon managed to make him miss. Moving forward  
again for a third try, his head was suddenly snapped back three  
times by Sharon's left fist. He barely managed to duck the right hand  
which followed. Joey retreated a few steps as he rethought his  
strategy. She was much fasted than he was, and knew how to box. Well,  
he still had the strength advantage. Joey decided that he had better  
sacrifice a few shots to get close to her, and then get her respect.  
Moving aggressively, he suffered several shots to the face. When he  
was close enough that she couldn't avoid him, he unleashed a wicked  
body shot to her side. Sharon grunted as her torso twisted and  
rippled to absorb the blow. Joey, trying to take advantage of her  
lowered guard, quickly moved his fist back and threw a roundhouse  
right which would take her head off. He was totally unprepared when  
his arm was stopped dead by her raised forearm. Time seemed to stop  
for a moment as he stared into her face. It was clear from her  
expression that his hardest punch had no effect. He tried to bring  
his arm up to cover his face, but it was too late. Her straight  
right shot out full force into his nose. Joey went down hard on the  
unyielding floor. He shook his head slowly from side to side. His  
broken nose bleed heavily to form a small puddle on the floor. 
 
Sharon moved back to the furthest corner as the crowd cheered at the  
sight of first blood. Money exchanged hands as side bets were paid  
off. Under the rules of the contest, Joey had thirty seconds to gain  
his feet. Sharon watched him as he struggled to his feet at the count  
of twenty. She knew he wouldn't stay down. Sometimes bad things  
happened to fighters whom the promoters thought were trying to avoid  
a beating. And this would be a beating. So far she was not  
impressed by his strength or speed. Time to test his stamina. As  
soon as he had gained his feet, Sharon was on top of him. Peppering  
his face with a series of light jabs that drove him towards the  
wall. As soon as his back touched the wall, she twisted low and  
ripped a punch into his lower abs. Her bicep and forearm swelled as  
they drove her fist into his guts. Joey tried to double over but  
Sharon's shoulder was holding him up. After half a dozen more shots  
his abs gave out and he reflexively tried to wrap her up with his  
arms. Sharon ignored Joey's embrace as she took advantage of his  
proximity with a punch intended to dig under his rib cage. Her fist  
shot up and ripped into his solar plexus. She felt his whole body  
stiffen against hers, as if he had been shocked by a cattle prod.  
Placing her hands on his chest, she slammed him into the wall.  
Stepping back, she started to snap his head from side to side with  
well timed blows. She stopped for a second to observe her handiwork.  
Joey's face was a mess. Both eyes were swelling shut, his lips were  
split, and his nose was mashed to one side. Blood was pouring out of  
a cut above his right eye. Before he could slump down the wall, she  
delivered a classic uppercut to his jaw. Joey's head snapped backwards  
splattering the crowd with blood. The thirty count was a formality  
as the elevator was raised.  
 
Sharon enjoyed the excitement of the crowd as they swarmed around  
her. Some of the bolder men in the crowd actually touched her sweaty  
body as they congratulated her. An observer would notice that they  
still kept their distance, as if she were some kind of dangerous  
exotic animal. As Sharon left the ring area, the promoters continued  
to circulate among the patrons, collecting thousands of dollars in  
tips for her performance.  
 
Two days later, the promoter who had originally sponsored her,  
showed up to Sharon's gym. Sharon wasn't hard to spot. She was in  
the center ring giving a man a boxing lesson. Sharon's victim had  
been unfortunate enough to have asked her to go out with him. Sharon  
had agreed, but only if he could beat her. He was now crouched in the  
corner trying to survive. Even though they were wearing headgear and  
sixteen ounce gloves, Sharon's powerful blows still managed to beat  
him to his knees. Sharon left the ring unsatisfied. Gym rules  
wouldn't let her have a proper fight. So she was pleased when she  
saw Paul waiting for her. 
 
"Hey Paul, you didn't come all this way just to watch me put away  
Mr. Hormones there, did you?" 
 
"Good news Sharon, after your performance with Joey Lopez, we've  
decided to let you have a shot at the Chicago champion. If you think  
your up for it. Its a hundred grand minimum payday for the winner." 
 
Sharon smiled. She wasn't in it for the money, but it certainly  
didn't hurt. "Sign me up." 
 
"That's excellent Sharon, we'll schedule the fight for two weeks from  
tonight in the same location." 
 
 
Two weeks later, Sharon was waiting in her dressing area to be  
called for the main event. Paul entered the room to call her.  
 
"Let's go champ. Don't forget your mouthpiece." 
 
Paul reached into her gym bag to retrieve it for her, but clumsily  
dropped it on the floor. 
 
"Sorry Sharon, I'll wash it off for you quick." 
 
When Paul returned the mouthpiece to her, Sharon didn't notice the  
thin oily coating that was now on it. As Sharon entered the ring  
area, she inserted her mouthpiece. She felt a strange stinging  
sensation on her tongue and gums, but at the time she just assumed  
that it was some sort of disinfectant that Paul had used to clean it. 
 
The announcer addressed the audience, who had already been worked  
into a blood frenzy with the preliminaries. "Ladies and Gentlemen,  
tonight we are proud to present a very special main event. Here to  
defend his Chicago championship, at six feet one inches tall and  
weighing two hundred and thirty pounds, with a record of thirty two  
and three, the windy city destroyer, Ken Stone." 
 
"And introducing the challenger, at five feet eleven inches and one  
hundred and seventy three pounds, with a record of four wins, no  
losses, Sharon Moore." 
 
While the announcements were being made, Sharon studied her  
opponent. Ken Stone was a huge man with an overly developed upper  
body. His hairy belly showed a bit of flab, but Sharon wasn't  
deceived. You didn't get to be a champion with any obvious  
weaknesses. Ken had a reputation for being able to ignore pain while  
delivering a massive amount of punishment. He was the most dangerous  
man Sharon had ever faced, and she didn't intend on taking chances  
with him. 
 
The crowd went wild as Sharon stepped onto the elevator floor. The  
odds were three to one against her, but the majority of the crowd was  
betting heavily on her after witnessing her last fight. 
 
When the elevator stopped, the fighters started to approach  
each other. Ken held his fists low around his waist, while Sharon  
held hers high in a more professional stance. As Sharon got within  
range, she jabbed two quick lefts into Ken's ugly face. Before she  
could follow up with her right, she was forced to duck a huge right  
hand which seemed to come out of nowhere. Sharon stepped back  
quickly as she thought out her strategy. Ken moved a lot quicker  
than he looked capable of. Darting back in, she faked a right to his  
midsection. As he swung his left hand to take advantage of her  
lowered guard, she ducked and popped back up with a right cross to  
his chin. Ken staggered a bit from the blow, shook his head, and came  
on. Sharon was reassured that he could be hurt. If she maintained  
her distance and used her superior speed and skill, she should be  
able to wear him out. But even as she thought of victory, a wave of  
dizziness coursed though her. 
 
She was barely able to deflect a left jab. She misjudged Ken's next  
punch which glanced off her forehead. The blow hadn't caught her  
very hard, but she stumbled backwards, her vision swimming. As she  
tried to recover, She was caught full force with a roundhouse to her  
ear which sent her crashing to the floor. Sharon dimly heard the  
count, as Ken stood in a corner taunting her. "Come on  
bitch. Get up. I thought you were supposed to be tough." Sharon  
struggled to her feet at the count of twelve. Ken moved in again and  
stood in front of her. "Come on little girl, lets see what you've  
got." Sharon tried to accept his invitation, but her muscles seemed  
drained of strength as her punches landed without effect on his face  
and body. After taking about twenty shots, Ken stepped in and  
wrapped up her right arm with his tree trunk left. Jacking her up  
painfully on her toes he announced to the crowd, "My turn again."  
Using his free right hand, Ken proceeded to jam his fist into her  
lower belly. Sharon gasped painfully and tried to double up, but his  
left arm prevented her from moving. Ken continued to work his way up  
with his punches. Sharon felt her lower ribs crack as he reached  
them. The crowd screamed with her, the first time he hammered her  
left breast. Sharon tried desperately to cover up with her left arm,  
but Ken left it numb and useless with a series of chops above the  
elbow. She was forced to hear the wet slapping sound and feel the  
aching pain in her chest as each carefully aimed blow landed. But  
worst of all, she could see his fists flattening her tits as they  
landed, then her sensitive mammeries quivering with the shock wave  
as they withdrew. It was almost a relief when he started to hit her  
in the face. Sharon again tried to move, but could only watch his  
taped taped fist moving like a piston. She saw her blood splattering  
on his hairy chest and stomach. She was vaguely aware of  
some of the more squeamish in the crowd screaming for the fight to  
stop. Then, she blacked out. 
 
 
Six months later: 
 
Paul was working late in his small office. Tonight's take had been  
particularly good. As he worked on the books, a shadow fell across  
his desk. Paul looked up and was surprised to see Sharon standing  
over him. 
 
"Jesus Sharon, you scared the shit out of me. I haven't seen you  
since the night that... well, you know. Your looking good. I hope  
you recovered OK." 
 
Sharon sat down in front of him. "Yea, I'm feeling pretty good now.  
Spent a few weeks in the hospital, but no permanent damage. In fact,  
I wouldn't mind getting back into it." 
 
Paul was shocked. After the beating Sharon took, he was surprised  
that she wasn't curled in a ball somewhere sucking her thumb. "Well  
Sharon, I think I could hook you up with something, if that's what you  
really want." 
 
"Actually, I was hoping for another shot at the title." 
 
"Well, I don't know if I could arrange that. A lots happened since  
you've been away. And you did lose ..." 
 
Paul didn't have a chance to complete his last sentence before  
Sharon shot across the table and yanked him from his seat by the  
lapels. With no obvious effort she slammed him to the floor on his  
back, knocking the wind out of him. 
 
"Lost what Paul? What did I lose?" Sharon asked, punctuating her  
question with a backhand across his face. "Let me tell you what I  
lost. I lost five weeks of my life recovering from three broken  
ribs, a fractured cheekbone, and internal injuries. Now you could  
say that I knew the risks going in, except for one thing. The night  
they took me to the emergency room, they did a blood scan. Want to  
know what they found Paul?" Sharon slapped him again, splitting his  
lip. "I was drugged Paul. I did a little checking. Most of the  
people where betting big on me, but you never adjusted the odds. I  
thought that mouthpiece felt funny when I put it in. Now I know 
why." Sharon lifted Paul a few inches off the ground with her left  
hand and drew back her right fist. "Now I want my title shot, and I  
want it tonight. You call that asshole Stone, and have him meet us at  
the factory. I don't care what you tell him." 
 
Ken Stone was pissed. What the fuck was so important that it  
couldn't wait until tomorrow. And why meet here? As Ken entered the  
door to the factory, he saw that the only lit area was the elevator  
that served as a ring. As he got closer, he saw that the elevator  
had been lowered into fighting position. But the strangest sight was  
Paul bound and gagged naked in a corner. 
 
"What the fuck is going on here?" 
 
"We are." Sharon said as she stepped out of the shadows on the  
opposite side of the elevator. She was stripped to the waist and  
looked even better than she had before. It was obvious that she had  
added at least ten pounds of muscle to her upper body since their  
last meeting. Her breasts now rode even higher on her rounded pects.  
"Me and Paul here were just discussing how you won our last match.  
We felt that you should give me another chance. That is, if you  
aren't afraid to fight a woman that isn't drugged you fucking  
balless worm!" 
 
Ken was enraged. "You think I wanted that! I told him that I  
wouldn't have any problem whipping your pretty ass, but he said that  
there was too much money riding on the fight for him to take any  
chances. But you want to try me for real? Then lets go bitch. But  
when you lose, I'm going to bend you over and fuck you up your tight  
little ass in the center of the ring." 
 
"Talk is cheap asshole. Lets get it done." Sharon said as she jumped  
into the pit. 
 
Ken ripped his shirt off and jumped in after her. Sharon attacked  
first catching Ken with a right to the jaw. She ducked his  
responding right and launched a left into his belly. Ken grunted  
from the impact. The bitch was as strong as any man he had ever  
faced, but not strong enough. He charged in swinging at her muscular  
torso. His fists thudded into her abs and ribs, driving her back into  
a corner. Ken smiled, knowing that she was trapped. His fists sounded  
like they were hitting a hollow log as he continued to pound her  
body. After another minute, he was starting to wheeze. No man had  
ever been able to stand that much punishment. He took a step  
backwards and looked at her smiling face. 
  
"You aren't finished already, are you? But then, you do look like  
you have problems keeping it up." 
  
Ken snarled inarticulately and shot a wild right at her smiling  
face. Sharon ducked under his armpit as his fist impacted painfully  
with concrete. Behind him now, Sharon placed her left hand in the  
center of his back and shoved him into the corner. Using her free  
right, she slammed him in the kidneys. Ken screamed like a woman as  
each blow landed. When Sharon was satisfied that he would be pissing  
blood for a week, she spun him around and started on his face.  
Sharon's big triceps and shoulders worked to drive her  
fists into his head. Her taped knuckles bit cruelly into his flesh,  
opening up a dozen cuts. Finally, he fell forward onto his hands  
and knees, dazed by the pounding.  
 
"Come on asshole, get up. I didn't think a girl could beat you.  
Lets see some action." Sharon taunted. 
 
Stone managed to get to his feet and throw a clumsy left-right  
combination which Sharon avoided easily. From a crouch she used her  
blood engorged biceps to deliver four crushing punches to his  
belt line. Ken felt like heaving his guts up. Before he could fall  
again, Sharon used his own move to wrap up his arm and pin him  
against the wall. 
 
"Payback time asshole." Sharon snarled as she sent her right fist  
into his ribcage. 
 
Blow after blow landed as Ken writhed to escape. 
 
"Oh, I almost forgot the most important part." Sharon said as her  
fist connected with a hairy nipple. 
 
It was Ken's turn to witness the destruction of his manly chest. He  
tried to use his free arm to cover up, but Sharon just alternated  
between nipples. Sharon kept up this torture for three more minutes  
before she was satisfied. 
 
"Looks like your going to need to wear a B-cup." Sharon said as she  
surveyed his ruined breasts. 
 
Sharon released his arm and twisted, sending a well timed elbow to  
shatter his jaw and break a few teeth. Turning to Paul who had been  
watching the fight, she saw that he was sweating heavily and looked  
frightened. 
 
Ripping the tape off of his mouth she asked "Who's the Chicago  
champion now Paul?" 
 
"Y-you, you are Sharon." 
 
"And who would have been the champion six months ago if you hadn't  
drugged me and cheated your patrons?" 
 
"You Sharon. P-please don't hurt me Sharon. I didn't tell Ken to  
beat you that bad the first time. Just let me go and I'll let you  
have the money. The hundred grand you should have won. There's at  
least that much taped in an envelope to the bottom of my desk." 
 
"Thanks Paul. I'll take you up on that. And when pencil dick there  
wakes up, you might want to ask him to untie you and get the hell  
out of here. Because by that time, your patrons will have had a  
chance to see the videotape we just made." 
 
"N-no Sharon, you can't do that. They'll kill me." 
 
Sharon made no reply to Paul's pleas as she raised the elevator and  
walked out of the light. She was already thinking about how she  
would train for a national title shot. 
 
 
                          THE PRIZEFIGHT IV 
                             THE TRAINER 
                          ----------------- 
 
 
My name is Tony, and I am a thirty two year old computer programmer.  
About two years ago I joined a boxing gym to keep in shape. The  
first time I walked in, I was surprised to see that the gym  
attracted a lot of women. Most of them joined for the superior  
workout boxing provides. Many of them found that they enjoyed the  
sport. And a few of them found that they just loved to kick ass. My  
current girlfriend, Diane, was in the second category. 
 
Diane had joined the gym six months after me. She was a beautiful  
blonde with a golden tan. Five foot seven, and about one hundred and  
thirty pounds. She was no stranger to athletic competition, having  
played some softball and beach volleyball. But she really took to  
boxing. I had been watching her for about three months when she  
approached me and asked me if I would spar with her. I was six feet  
tall, and one eighty, so I figured that I could afford to go easy on  
her. My mistake. Diane took me apart. I didn't land a single punch. Of  
course, she wasn't distracted by a pair of friendly D-cup puppies  
begging to play. Afterwards, she offered to make it up to me by  
taking me out to dinner. We started going out and training together.  
The rest as they say, is history. 
 
Shortly after we started to train together, I introduced her to  
weight training. The effect on her body was amazing. Inside of a  
year, she had added twenty pounds of muscle. Her breasts shrunk from  
D-cups to rock hard C's. Needless to say, I couldn't be happier. It  
was my fantasy. To have a girlfriend with a great body, and be able  
to further shape that body to perfection. Of course, Diane and I had  
two different ideas of what sport we were training for. 
 
A few months ago, a new woman named Lori joined the gym. Lori was  
five foot nine, and about one hundred and sixty well toned pounds. It  
soon became obvious to everyone that she was the kind of woman who  
enjoyed kicking ass. No stranger to boxing, it was rumored that she  
had to leave another gym after nearly beating a man to death in the  
ring. Of course, I assumed that this was probably just nasty gossip.  
That was, until I met her.  
 
Diane and I had been working out for about an hour. Diane had  
decided to hit the weight room, and left me working the heavy bag. I  
was aware of Lori hitting the bag next to me. Her blows sounded like  
they were thudding the soft surface as hard as mine. I stopped to  
watch her work for a minute. She was wearing a sweaty tank top which  
displayed her clearly defined arm muscles as she continued hitting  
the bag. The eighty pound bag shuddered with each blow. Her pumped  
biceps looked as if they would peak at over sixteen inches. She  
had a handsome face. It would probably be described as pretty, if  
it were made up, instead of beaded with sweat. But what held my gaze  
were her bouncing B-cups. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a  
bra. The thin white material of her top clearly displayed a pair of  
large dark nipples as firm and erect as my little finger. I was  
more than a little turned on as I watched them dancing on top of her  
hard working pecs. Evidently, she must have noticed my gaze, because  
she abruptly stopped and turned to me. 
 
"Hey studmuffin, you don't look like you're busy. Why don't we do a  
little sparring."  She didn't wait for a reply as she headed for one  
of the club's small rings. 
 
Since I had been working out with Diane, I had bulked up to well  
over two hundred pounds of rock hard muscle. I sparred regularly  
with a number of the clubs male members, and a few women other than  
Diane. So I wasn't worried when I donned my headgear and followed  
her into the ring. Lori disdained headgear as she climbed between  
the ropes and waited for me. We touched gloves and began to box. I  
threw a few jabs at her which she easily avoided. I missed with a  
roundhouse right and was stunned when Lori hooked my ribs just like  
the bag. She quickly followed up with a straight left which  
painfully smashed my nose. I withdrew a few steps and wiped my nose  
on my wrist. I was pissed when I saw blood. 
 
"What the fuck's wrong with you. I thought you wanted to spar,  
not go for the title." 
 
Lori smiled, "What title? Heavyweight wimp of the world. My little  
sister is a better boxer." 
 
That was more than enough to set me off. Female or not, I was  
fighting for real now. I charged her swinging with both fists,  
driving her into a corner. Lori caught my blows on her raised  
gloves and forearms. Lowering my aim, I ripped a dozen shots into  
her belly and ribs. It was like hitting a block of rubber. Lori  
lowered her gloves to show me that my blows had no effect. 
 
Lori sneered, "If that's your best stud, then you're in trouble. It's  
my turn now." 
 
I tried to keep it together as she bore into me. A crowd was  
gathering around the ring to watch the action. Lori's fists crashed  
into my abs as she drove me back into the ropes. I couldn't take  
anymore as I doubled over gasping for air. Lori took advantage of my  
lowered guard. Even with the headgear, it felt as though I was being  
smacked with a two by four. I went down hard. As I struggled to get  
up, I heard her taunting. 
 
"What's the matter stud? You finish everything this quickly? Maybe I  
should even the odds. If you can get your sorry ass off the canvas,  
I'll fight you using just my left hand." 
 
I finally managed to get to my feet. Lori stuck her chin out at me. 
 
"One free shot stud." 
 
I wasn't at my best, but I still managed to rock Lori nearly off her  
feet with my roundhouse right. It scared me the way she bounced up  
like one of those punching clowns. 
 
"Nice to know I wasn't wrong," Lori said as she rubbed her jaw. 
 
I was back on the defensive as she moved in on me. True to her word,  
she was only hitting me with her left hand. Her jabs were snapping  
my head back. She soon added a split lip to my bloody nose.  
Eventually she maneuvered me back into a corner. I was almost  
helpless at this point. She alternated left jabs to my head with  
lefts to my body. I flailed at her, trying to defend myself, but all  
I was catching was air. It was then that I heard Diane yell from the  
behind the crowd. 
 
"What the hell's going on here! Leave him alone." 
 
Lori stopped and locked gazes with Diane. 
 
Lori replied, "I'm sorry, I didn't know he belonged to you. Here, you  
can have him back. We were just about finished." 
 
With that, Lori backhanded me across the jaw with her left glove,  
sending me spinning to the canvas. She then left the ring on the  
opposite side from where Diane entered to help me up. 
 
An hour later Diane had brought me back to my apartment. We both  
stripped as she helped me into the shower. Ordinarily I would have  
enjoyed this, but tonight I could barely stand as Diane explored my  
tender body with her hands. I groaned painfully a number of times as  
she probed for broken ribs. 
 
I had to take a week off from work as I recovered. Diane visited me  
every night after she finished at the gym. Lori hadn't shown up since  
we had fought. Tonight, Diane told me that Lori had shown up and  
that she had confronted her. 
 
"I called the bitch out," Diane stated. 
 
"You what?!"  
 
"I saw that bitch working out as if nothing happened. I went over  
and asked her if she wanted to try me. She told me she'd meet me  
anytime, anywhere. If I had the balls." 
 
I knew what the reply would be, but I had to ask anyway. 
 
"You didn't agree, did you?" 
 
"Of course I did, someone needs to teach that bitch a lesson. We've  
got one month to train before the fight. I could really use your help  
in the gym to train me." 
 
I looked hard at her before replying. "I've got to tell you that  
Lori is the toughest, meanest fighter that I've ever met. And you  
had better think long and hard before you go through with this. But  
if you're determined, then I wouldn't want to see you hurt because  
you weren't ready." 
 
For the next month, Diane trained harder than most professional  
boxers. Every day started with two hundred sit-ups, followed by a  
seven mile run. In the evening we trained in the gym. Lifting  
weights, hitting the bags, and sparring became her sole focus. After  
the first two weeks, I couldn't find any more men who were willing  
to get in the ring with her. At night back in my apartment, she  
would strip, fold her arms behind her head, and have me punch her  
body as hard as I could. If she was able to take ten blows without  
folding, I would reward her with an hour of animal sex. The last few  
days before the fight, I slowed her training regimen to build  
up her energy reserves. 
 
Despite her gains, I was still worried about Diane getting hurt. The  
fight would be taking place in the gym after hours. Other than a  
cornerman for each fighter, there would be no witnesses. The night  
of the fight, we showed up to the darkened gym and went to the  
dressing room. Diane stripped, and I applied a thin coat of oil to  
her magnificent body. She slipped into an extra short, tight pair of  
red and white boxing shorts. A sports bra and cutoff T-shirt  
completed her ensemble. I laced up a pair of six ounce gloves on her  
relatively thick wrists. I then helped her warm-up by letting her hit  
my hands. After a few minutes, Diane was ready to go, and I followed  
her to the clubs main ring. 
 
Lori was already there. She was topless, wearing a tight pair of  
black spandex shorts. Her breasts were even better looking uncovered. 
 
"You better keep a leash on your boy there. That's the look that got  
him in trouble in the first place. What's the matter? Doesn't he have  
anything worth playing with at home?" 
 
Never one to back down from a challenge, Diane hooked her gloved  
thumb under her shirt and bra, and ripped her top off.  
 
"He's got more to play with than you have to offer," Diane said as her  
breasts quivered from their release. 
 
I was pleased to note that the cornerman that Lori had brought with  
her, was now staring at my girl's firm round breasts with their  
small pink nipples. Lori saw this also, and punched him in the gut. 
 
"What the fuck are you looking at?" Lori asked, as the poor slob  
choked his guts up. 
 
When both fighters were ready, Lori's man signaled the start of the  
round. We had agreed that he would keep time, and I would count out  
any knockdowns. 
 
The fighters met in the center of the ring. Lori threw the first  
punch. Diane ducked and slammed a hard right into Lori's gut. Lori  
grunted, but didn't hesitate to respond. Diane barely managed to  
catch the blow with her gloves. Lori pressed her advantage, driving  
Diane into the ropes with a flurry of punches. As soon as Diane's  
back touched the ropes, Lori ducked and cut loose with a straight  
right to the solar plexus. Fortunately for Diane, the punch barely  
missed and crashed into her ribs. I winced at the sound of leather  
impacting on my girl's flesh. Diane manage to weather about three  
more shots to the abs before responding. Shooting out a lightning  
left hand, she caught Lori square on the nose and started a trickle  
of blood. 
 
"First blood to me bitch," Diane taunted between her raised gloves. 
 
Lori went berserk, throwing lefts and rights, trying to get through  
Diane's guard. Diane managed to catch virtually all of the blows on  
her gloves and forearms. Lori's cornerman had to yell twice to get  
Lori to back off at the end of the round. Back in our corner, I put  
out a stool for Diane.  
 
"Jesus, she can hit," Diane noted as she sat down. 
 
"You're Ok, aren't you?" 
 
"Yeah, but I can't take many more punches like that. She's got a bit  
of a temper. If I can piss her off and keep her swinging blindly,  
she might punch herself out." 
 
The second round started much like the first. But when Diane reached  
the center of the ring, she dropped her hands. Lori tried to take  
advantage with a couple of quick jabs. Diane danced back, making her  
miss. Lori darted after her with a big right hand. Ducking under the  
crushing blow, Diane moved to her side. As Lori regained her balance  
and turned to face Diane, she was met by a straight right which  
hammered her in the face. Diane wisely didn't press the attack any  
further. Dancing back, she motioned with her gloves for Lori to  
follow. Lori charged across the ring and started throwing leather.  
Diane again managed to weather the storm until the end of the round. 
 
"She didn't even get in a solid shot this round," said Diane. 
 
"Lori's sweating pretty heavily, but she still looks like she's got  
a lot left," I observed. 
 
"I figure another three rounds, and then she's mine," Diane  
predicted. 
 
I hoped Diane was right. But I had the feeling that it wasn't going  
to be that easy. Diane again started by avoiding Lori's punches on  
the outside. Lori rushed her like a bull. When it looked as if Diane  
was too close to dodge, Lori threw a straight left. Diane ducked,  
and tried to set herself up for the counter. But Lori had pulled her  
punch. When Diane came back up, she was surprised with a roundhouse  
right. Sweat exploded from her hair as her head was snapped around.  
Lori followed up with a left-right combination. Dazed, Diane  
instinctively raised her arms as she was driven against the ropes.  
Lori took advantage of this, and went to work on her body. I could  
see Lori's fists digging into Diane's well trained abs. From  
personal experience, I knew she was in serious trouble. Desperate to  
stop the attack, Diane threw a few blind punches towards Lori's  
head. Lori smothered the third punch with her glove, and stepped in  
with a roundhouse right to Diane's ear. The punch turned her head  
around in my direction. Shock and pain were written on Diane's face.  
Lori stepped back and started impacting Diane's head with a  
series of lefts and rights. Diane finally couldn't take anymore.  
Lori was forced to step to the side as Diane fell forward onto  
her face. 
 
Lori turned to me and said, "Start counting studmuffin." 
 
I numbly started counting. At the count of three, Diane managed to  
push herself up with her arms. Blood was dripping from her face to  
join a red smear on the canvas where she had landed. I continued to  
count as she got to one knee. I was secretly hoping that she  
wouldn't get up. But by the count of eight, she had managed to lurch  
to her feet. Lori charged in from the neutral corner, and started  
pounding on Diane as she huddled in a corner trying to survive the  
round. I was relieved when time was called and Diane staggered back.  
Jumping through the ropes, I bent over her to examine the damage.  
Diane was a mess. She was cut above her left eye, her lip was split,  
and a dark blue mouse was forming under her right eye. I also noticed  
her heaving belly was reddening from repeated blows. 
 
"We've got to stop this. You can't take another round." 
 
I was shocked by Diane's response. Snapping to attention, she  
hooked the back of the neck and pulled my face closer to her's.  
Through bloody teeth, she hissed, "Don't you dare. If you try  
to stop this fight, its over between us." 
 
Without another word, I cleaned up her face as much as I could  
before the start of the next round. I don't think Diane was thinking  
very clearly at this point, because when she went out to meet Lori,  
she started trading punches with her in the center of the ring. Even  
under the best of circumstances, this wouldn't be a good idea, and  
it wasn't now. After about thirty seconds, Diane went down again.  
But this time she got right back up. It was clear to me that  
she was out on her feet. I was expecting Lori to move in and finish  
her off. Instead, she started punishing Diane with her jab. Diane  
couldn't escape as Lori pistoned her hands like a machine. Blood was  
starting to splatter off of Lori's gloves. I was briefly thankful  
when she backed off for a second. But that feeling of relief quickly  
turned to horror when she chose her next target. Shoving Diane in a  
corner, Lori started hitting her breasts and body. Diane tried to  
cover up, but Lori just kept changing her targets. A right to the  
kidneys dropped Diane's arms, and a left crashed painfully into her  
sensitive mammary. I ran over and jumped onto the corner apron to  
stop the slaughter. Without breaking her rhythm, Lori hit me with a  
right hand, knocking me back to the floor. I lay stunned for about  
ten seconds, listening to the dull thuds of body blows followed by  
the slapping sounds of breasts being damaged. The end of the round  
was called, and Lori leaned over the ropes to look down on me. 
 
"You can have her back now stud, if you want her." 
 
I struggled back into the ring and helped Diane back to her corner.  
Her face was now a bloody mask. Her breasts were bruised and  
swollen. Her once tight nipples were puffy and pointed towards the  
floor. Blood and sweat had run off the top of her chest, between her  
breasts, to stain her belly. I sponged her down with cold water and  
tried to stop the bleeding. When the start of the next round was  
announced, I turned to call the fight off, but was again surprised  
when Diane pushed her way past me. If Lori was impressed, she didn't  
show it. Stalking Diane like a cat with a mouse, she deliberately  
maneuvered her into my corner before starting her attack. Diane  
tried to return Lori's punches, but she was too far gone. 
 
I felt sick and cowardly as Diane attempted to stand up to Lori. The  
combatants were now a mere three feet away from me. Lori had Diane  
pinned in the corner with her shoulder and was slamming her fists  
into my girl's vulnerable torso. From my perspective, I could see  
sweat dripping off of the underside of Lori's swinging breasts. Her  
biceps jumping to attention as she sent her leather clad fists  
digging into Diane's stomach with a meaty thuds. I could also see  
the shock waves resonating through Diane's back muscles. Showing no  
mercy, Lori finished her off with the paralyzing blow to the solar  
plexus which she had missed earlier. Diane went down as if she was  
shot. Falling heavily, she lay twitching on the canvas. I  
immediately tried to climb through the ropes, but was stopped by  
Lori's gloved hand on my chest.  
 
"Count her out stud," Lori said calmly. 
 
I tried to push past her, but she held the leverage advantage.  
 
Quickly I started my count. "One-Two-Three-Four..." 
 
Again Lori put her fist in my chest. "Start over again, and this time  
do it right." 
 
Trying to restrain myself as I looked at Diane's wrecked body, I  
started to count again - slowly. At the count of ten, Lori backed  
off and allowed me in the ring. Kneeling down next to Diane, I  
gently turned her over and cradled her in my arms. She could barely  
see me through her right eye which was still open a crack. 
 
An agonizing spasm seized her as she tried to talk. After a few  
shallow breaths she managed to whisper to me, "We'll get her next  
time, I promise." 
 
I was suddenly overwhelmed by Diane's strength and courage. I also  
realized at that moment, that I loved her. This revelation, combined  
with the circumstances, caused me to snap. Purposefully, I strode  
across the ring to where Lori was standing in her corner. Lori had  
her back to me. Her gloved hands grasped the top ropes as she talked  
to her cornerman. Without hesitating as I reached her, I slammed a  
fist into her kidneys as hard as I could. Taken totally by surprise,  
Lori arched backwards and screamed in pain. She tried to turn  
around, but I was on her instantly. Bracing my left forearm against  
her broad back, I pinned her in the corner. Using my right arm, I  
continued to hit her in the back with my bare knuckles. Lori yelped  
in pain with each blow as she struggled to escape. After hitting her  
a dozen times, I grabbed her by the right shoulder and spun her  
around to face me. Not hesitating for a second, I nailed her jaw  
with a wicked right cross. Bringing my left into play, I smashed  
Lori's nose flat. Lori's expression was blank as her addled brain  
tried to figure out what was going on. When she finally managed to  
respond with a punch, I ducked and started to punish her belly and  
breasts. My fists worked like pistons as I continued to hit her in a  
red rage. After what seemed like hours, I snapped back out of it. I  
was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Lori's slumped form  
lay before me. Her cornerman stood behind her, a look of shock on  
his face. I noticed that my knuckles were bleeding as I turned and  
walked away. Returning to Diane's side, I saw that she was still  
conscious and had witnessed the assault. I lifted her onto her  
stool, and raised her chin to inspect her battered face. Her blank  
expression suddenly became animated, and she tried to get up.  
Putting my hands on her shoulders, I tried to calm her down. 
 
"Its Ok now Diane. Its all over. We're getting out of here now." 
 
"Leaving so soon stud? Round two's about to start." 
 
Wheeling around, I saw Lori standing in the center of the ring  
behind me. She was bleeding badly from half a dozen cuts on her  
face. Her breasts and body were covered with welts where my fists  
had landed. She shouldn't even be conscious yet, but there she  
stood, gloves raised and ready. The sight scared me. 
 
Spitting blood, she snarled, "The only way you're getting out of  
this ring is through me."  
 
I fought my fear as I approached her with my fists raised. I would  
do whatever it took to get Diane out of there. I threw two jabs at  
Lori's head which she easily avoided. Shooting her fists out  
faster than I could follow, she snapped my head back. I swung at her  
with a roundhouse right which she easily ducked. Her counterpunch  
caught me in my gut, causing me to double up. Realizing that I  
couldn't box her, I wrapped my arms around her midsection, picked  
her up, and charged the nearest corner with a cry of desperation.  
I heard the air whoosh out of her body as my shoulder drove into her  
midsection. It was my turn to yelp, as Lori's hard elbow impacted on  
my spine. After three more blows, I had to relax my grip. Lori  
immediately took advantage of this by driving her knee into my  
chest. Wrapping her strong arms around my waist, she screamed with  
effort as she straightened up, flipping me upside-down. I thought I  
had broken my neck when she dropped me in the center of the ring.  
Instinctively, I tried to crawl away. But Lori's booted foot caught  
me painfully in the ribs, sending me rolling towards Diane. Lori  
grabbed me under the armpits and yanked me to my feet. Diane  
couldn't do anything to help me as Lori held me in front of her.  
Shoving me against the ropes, about five feet to the right of where  
Diane was slumped, she forced my arms over the top rope so  
that I couldn't move. Taking a step back, she ripped a quick  
left-right combination into my lower abs. Before I could flop off  
the rope, she quickly locked an iron grip on my throat with her left  
hand. Lori glanced over at Diane, and back at me. 
 
Addressing Diane, she said, "You make a cute couple. I hope you  
weren't planning on having children." 
 
She let the full impact of her statement sink in for a second. When  
it did, I went berserk. I flailed against the ropes for a few seconds  
as she continued to pin me like a bug. Lori slowly drew back her  
right fist, leaving no doubt of her intended target. Diane lurched  
off the stool and tried to gain her feet as Lori unleashed the  
crippling blow. I watched as her lightly padded fist shot between my  
legs. I heard a high pitched wail, and realized it was coming from  
me. Twice more, she drew her fist back and nailed my balls. Satisfied  
with her handiwork, she released me. I pitched forward to the canvas. 
Curling up in a fetal position, I started to puke. 
 
As Lori exited the ring, I heard her call back, "Its been fun. Lets  
do it again sometime. I'll call the hospital for you on the way out." 
 
I was released from the hospital a week after Diane. We told them  
that we had been ambushed in the gym by a street gang. Based on our  
condition, it wasn't hard to believe. The doctors told me that if I  
hadn't been wearing a cup, I probably would be sterile. Thank God I  
didn't feel comfortable going anywhere near Lori without one. Lori  
never returned to the gym after that day. 
 
A year later, Diane and I got engaged. We still train together every  
day. Diane is obsessed with getting bigger, stronger, and becoming  
a better boxer. We never talk about it, but I am suspicious that she  
secretly wants another shot at Lori. And that's where Diane's true  
strength rests, not in her muscles, but in her spirit. And that's a  
strength which will never be beaten out of her.  
 
 
 
 
                          THE PRIZEFIGHT V 
                          FALLEN CHAMPION 
                          ---------------- 
 
 
The first time Sharon Moore boxed was when she was twelve. Her  
father, a former golden gloves champion, was training her three  
older brothers to box in their small basement ring. Sharon used to  
play with the gloves and bags, but was never invited to participate.  
One day, Sharon got into an argument with her youngest brother Jack.  
Jack challenged her to step into the ring with him. Even though he  
was two years older and three inches taller, she gamely followed  
him in. They fought as only brother and sister can. In the end, Jack  
put Sharon down on her ass with a bloody nose. When her father found  
out what happened, he took Sharon aside and offered to train her. He  
was getting frustrated trying to get her brothers to listen to him,  
and wanted to teach them a lesson. Sharon leapt at the chance. 
 
Every day for months, he worked with her in secret. She learned the  
basics of the sport from a man who knew and loved it. Unlike her  
brothers, she proved to be an attentive pupil. When her father  
determined she was ready, he told her to challenge her brothers. At  
first, her brothers didn't take her seriously. But after a few days  
of nagging, they decided that Jack would fight her again, just to  
shut her up. Her two older brothers were amazed as Sharon knocked  
him down three times. She then proceeded to beat her next older  
brother, and fight her oldest brother to a draw. At the end of  
fight, their father came down the basement steps where he had been  
quietly sitting. He berated her brothers, and held her up as an  
example of what a motivated fighter could accomplish. After that  
day, she was allowed to train alongside her brothers. It became  
harder and harder to beat them as they started to train seriously,  
but she still won her share of bouts.  
 
After leaving home and going to college, she continued to train in a  
boxing gym. If she had been allowed, she would have turned pro. When  
a promoter for the underground fighting circuit approached her about  
picking up some quick cash, she took him up on it. The promoter had  
hired her as a novelty. A way to keep the sports wealthy patrons  
amused. But they soon learned to take her seriously, as she compiled  
an undefeated record. In a particularly notorious fight, she lost to  
the Chicago champion, and was badly beaten in the process. It was  
later discovered that Sharon had been drugged by the unscrupulous  
promoter, who later turned up dead in an alley with the champ. Her  
record was corrected, and she was invited to fight on the national  
circuit. 
 
The national circuit differed from the local circuits in a number of  
ways. The most obvious, was the amount of money involved. A good  
night on the local circuits might involve a few hundred thousand. In  
the nationals, it was not uncommon for millions to be wagered on a  
single fight. The money also attracted better fighters. Every  
fighter on the national circuit was carefully selected by a  
mysterious body known as "The Board". The Board also maintained a  
number of semi permanent locations around the country where fighters  
could train and fight. They arranged all of the matches and  
controlled the wagering. It was the Board that invited Sharon. 
 
The Board didn't rely strictly on the local circuits to provide  
talent. It sometimes raided the ranks of legitimate fighters. If a  
well known professional ran into any trouble with his sanctioning  
body, he was likely to be approached by the Board. This was how the  
Board obtained Matt Dyson. 
 
Matt Dyson had been the heavyweight champion of the world. He had  
unified the title in all three professional boxing associations. At  
the age of twenty three, he was also one of the youngest champions  
ever. But he was also out of control. One fateful day, he was  
accused of raping a famous actress in the back of his limo. It  
wasn't the first such incident. But this time, neither his slick  
talking manager or his money could keep him out of trouble. He  
served two years in a state penitentiary. When he got out, he was  
approached by the Board. 
 
Dyson didn't join for the money. He had plenty. Dyson joined because  
he liked to hurt people. And as an added bonus, the Board could also  
help him satisfy his carnal appetites without fear of retribution. To  
the outside world, Dyson was a recluse who never left his large  
desert ranch outside of Las Vegas. To the patrons of the underground  
circuit, he was their new national champion. 
 
Sharon had also made a name for herself on the national circuit.  
At first she was considered a freak. But as she continued to fight  
and win, she developed a large and growing following who demanded  
that she receive a title shot. After a little more than a year on  
the circuit, she was flown to Vegas to fight Dyson. 
 
Sharon was allowed to train for the fight in the same facility Dyson  
and the other Vegas based fighters used. Sharon observed Dyson first  
hand as he went through five sparring partners within twenty  
minutes. Dyson was a heavily muscled black man. He was only five  
feet eleven inches tall, short for a heavyweight. But he had made  
his reputation by bringing bigger opponents down to his level with  
crushing body blows. This was even more impressive, considering that  
he did it wearing regulation boxing gloves. After sending his last  
partner crashing to the canvas, he turned to where Sharon was  
watching. 
 
"Hey bitch, I just wanted you to know that I'll take it easy on you.  
A first round knockout. And if I like what I see, I'll give you a  
special bonus," Dyson said as he grabbed his crotch. 
 
What a sweetheart, Sharon thought, as she stalked away disgusted by  
his display. Getting back to her training, she cranked out another  
hundred inclined crunches. Unlike Dyson, Sharon was taking this  
fight seriously. She had never forgotten the lesson that her father  
had taught her. Even before the match was official, she had been  
training to face Dyson. She had paid special attention to his  
favorite target, the body. Every day she would get up and do two  
hundred sit-ups. Every other day, she did a hundred crunches while  
clutching a fifty pound plate to her chest. She also trained to  
strengthen and thicken the thin wall of muscle on her sides. She  
didn't ignore her lower back either. Circuit rules allowed fighters  
to hit from behind. Once a month, she tested herself by allowing her  
sparring partners to hit her flexed and unflexed abs. After four  
months, they had to use a roll of half dollars clenched in their  
fists to hurt her. She had also been working on her upper body  
strength. Using the advanced training equipment which the Board made  
available to her, she increased her punching power thirty  
percent. No woman in the world had ever had a chance to face a  
heavyweight champion before, and she didn't intend to waste the  
opportunity. 
 
The night of the fight, electricity filled the air. The fight would  
be broadcast all over the country on a private satellite channel.  
Wagers were reported to be into the tens of millions, with the odds  
running three to one against Sharon. Back in her dressing room,  
Sharon started her final preparations. An expert attendant tightly  
wrapped her fists and wrists with a special white cloth tape. He  
then applied a thin coating of oil to Sharon's naked upper body.  
He was careful not to display any emotion or disrespect as he  
worked. Sharon smiled as she saw him fight a losing battle with the  
bulge in his pants. He was kind of cute. Perhaps she would take him  
out later for a post fight celebration. 
 
Fight time arrived at last. As Sharon waited to be announced, she  
scanned the interior of the small arena. A well lit ring sat in the  
center of the room. It was similar to a boxing ring, except that it  
had six sides. A brand new canvas had been installed for tonight's  
fight. The small crowd of well dressed men and women murmured  
expectantly as they waited for the fighters to appear. Despite the  
ten thousand dollar ticket price, the small arena was filled to  
capacity. 
 
Rules on the national circuit were slightly different from the  
locals. The fight resembled a traditional boxing match with three  
minute rounds and a one minute break. A fighter would be declared  
out with a twenty count. A fighter could not be saved by the bell.  
It was not an official rule, but there were serious consequences for  
any fighter who deliberately stayed down to avoid a beating. 
 
The announcer climbed into the center of the ring and began to read  
off a card. 
 
"Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight the Board is proud to present a very  
special event. Two opponents will fight to decide the only true  
world boxing championship." 
 
As the challenger, Sharon was called first. 
 
"Introducing the challenger, at five feet eleven inches and one  
hundred and seventy two pounds, undefeated with a record of fourteen  
wins, no losses, Sharon Moore." 
 
The crowd went berserk as Sharon walked to the ring waving to the  
crowd. After she climbed through the ropes, the announcer continued. 
 
"And introducing the former world's heavyweight boxing champion, and  
current circuit champion, standing five feet eleven inches tall and  
weighting two hundred and twenty nine pounds, with an undefeated  
record of twenty one wins, no losses, Matt 'Bone Crusher' Dyson." 
 
Matt frowned as he walked towards the ring. That fucking bitch had  
gotten a more enthusiastic response from the crowd. What the fuck's  
the matter with them? Don't they know that they have the privilege  
of seeing Matt Dyson, the most dangerous man in the world. 
 
The crowd gave Sharon a second ovation as she shed her silk robe to  
reveal her magnificently conditioned body. Her upper body would  
place in a Miss Olympia competition. She had broad shoulders, well  
developed arms with sixteen and a half inch biceps, and a relatively  
thin washboard waist. Her breasts had shrunk and flattened slightly  
from her training regimen, but would still fill a C-cup nicely. Her 
dark nipples were erect with excitement. She was wearing a tight pair  
of red silk short shorts which revealed the feminine curves of her  
hips and buttocks. Sharon's legs were well developed, but not  
proportionate to her upper body. She had the face of a model  
with black hair and blue-gray eyes. But if you looked close you  
would notice a few scars, and a nose that had been broken and  
straightened a few times. If anything, these minor imperfections  
lent her face character, and made her even more beautiful. 
 
Matt was getting even angrier as the crowd continued to focus its  
attention on Sharon. Hadn't they ever seen tits before? Well they  
wouldn't be watching her much longer, unless they cared to visit her  
at the hospital. Maybe he would visit her himself. But he wouldn't  
be bringing her flowers. He'd be thrusting nine inches of Jersey  
black snake into every orifice that wasn't connected to a tube. 
 
The timekeeper rang the bell to begin the first round. Dyson charged  
out of his corner. Sharon waited until he was almost on top of her  
before she ducked his first punch. Turning quickly, she shot a left  
between his massive lat muscles into his unprotected spine.  
Immediately dancing back on the balls of her feet, she avoided  
getting backhanded by his massive arm. Dyson was only off  
balance for a second, but it was long enough for Sharon to dart in  
and connect with a hard left jab. Set again, Dyson started to  
advance on Sharon with lefts and rights. Sharon easily slipped each  
punch with her superior speed, and again managed to duck under his  
arm as they reached the opposite side of the ring. In his rage,  
Dyson didn't manage to lay a glove on her the rest of the round.  
Even after the bell sounded, Sharon had to dodge Matt's wild swings  
for another ten seconds, before he reluctantly gave up. The crowd was  
cheering with delight at Sharon's display of skill and agility. 
 
Matt seethed in his corner. He had managed to calm down a little  
bit. The bitch had made him look stupid, and now she was going to  
pay. No quick knockouts, he was going to hurt her bad. 
 
Sharon was pleased with her first round. She had managed to make him  
look like an amateur. But she didn't dare get overconfident. Dyson  
had a lot more boxing skill than most people gave him credit for.  
 
The second round started off slow. Dyson was stalking Sharon now,  
looking for an opportunity. Sharon was content to give ground,  
making sure that she didn't get trapped in the corners. Since their  
reach was nearly equal, Sharon was able to use her speed to score  
with several jabs.  In the last minute of the round, Sharon made her  
first mistake. She was caught be surprise when Dyson made a quick  
inside move at the same time she chose to throw another jab. Alarm  
bells went off in her head as she realized her position. She flexed her  
rock hard abs in anticipation of Dyson's punch. Dyson twisted  
his whole body in the effort, his biceps exploding like cannonballs  
as he delivered a right, and then a left. Both punches caught Sharon  
directly in the middle of her stomach. Traveling upwards at a  
thirty degree angle, the force of the blows actually lifted her off  
her feet. Recovering quickly, Sharon backpedaled a couple of steps,  
and finished the rest of the round evading her male opponent. 
 
Despite the lack of action, the crowd was still pleased. Sharon had  
managed to take a pair of bodyshots that had sent many top ranked  
pro's down for the count. Back in her corner, Sharon wasn't  
pleased. Dyson deserved his reputation. If he hadn't hit her in the  
strongest region of her torso, she would probably be in serious  
trouble. For the first time in her life, Sharon felt some doubt. 
 
Dyson wasn't happy either. The fight was going a lot longer than he  
had predicted. And even worse, she had managed to take two of his  
best punches without flinching. Next round he had to get serious. 
 
Round three started out well for Sharon. Moving in to exchange jabs,  
she set him up for a big right hand. The champ was staggered for a  
second. Sharon followed up with a straight left to the eye which  
snapped his head back on his thickly muscled neck. Putting  
everything she had into a roundhouse right, she caught Dyson  
perfectly on the chin. Dyson's head twisted to one side, and he  
dropped to one knee. He managed to get back to his feet before the  
count started, but it didn't alter the facts. For the first time  
since he joined the circuit, Dyson had been put down. The crowd  
realized the significance of this and was cheering wildly. Sharon  
quickly moved in to finish Dyson off. But she overestimated the  
amount of damage she had done. When she got in range, Matt unleashed  
a powerful left that caught her coming in. He charged her again  
throwing rights and lefts as he had in the first round, but this  
time he was connecting. Sharon was driven into a corner. It was  
the last place she wanted to be. She desperately tried to dart by  
Dyson, but he just reached out with a big left arm and tossed her  
backwards like a rag doll. Pressing the top of his head right above  
her breasts, he went to work. Sharon tried to resist as she had  
earlier, but his powerful blows were now crashing into the sides of  
her body. Dyson hit her three times after the bell sounded. And then  
with an act of rudeness that shocked the crowd, he grabbed her tits  
with his taped hands and laughed at her. 
 
"Now we're having a good time bitch. But we'll have an even better  
time later." 
 
Releasing her, he allowed Sharon to stumble back to her corner. She  
was bleeding from a few minor cuts, but she was really concerned  
with internal damage. At the very least he had cracked a few of her  
ribs. And based on his comments, she now realized she was in danger  
of losing more than just this fight. Dyson was worth a lot to the  
Board. If he decided to follow through on his threats, nobody would  
try to stop him. 
 
Sharon was in trouble from the start of the fourth round. The damage  
Dyson had done was slowing her down, taking away one of her biggest  
advantages. Consequently, she was forced to trade shots with him.  
This wasn't a good strategy, considering Dyson's strength advantage. He  
was relentless. Sharon tried to hold him off, but he just kept his  
head down and ignored her blows. Right at the end of the round,  
Dyson trapped her again. After taking half a dozen bodyshots, Sharon  
went down. The crowd urged her to get up as the count started.  
Drawing on a lifetime of discipline, she ignored the agonizing pain,  
and managed to get up at the count of fifteen. The crowd gained even  
more respect for her as she made her way back to her corner  
unassisted.  
 
Back in her corner, Sharon noticed the worried look on her cute  
attendants face. She addressed him, as he worked to sponge the blood  
off of her face and chest. 
 
Attempting a smile, she said, "Don't worry, it's just a scratch."  
 
Talking to her for the first time, he said, "Listen, it's not my  
place to say this, but you aren't doing very well out there." 
 
"I'd be doing better, but even circuit rules don't allow nuclear  
weapons in the ring," Sharon replied in an annoyed tone. 
 
"Please don't get me wrong. You've lasted longer than almost any  
fighter against Dyson. Since he joined the circuit, he only trains  
for strength, not for stamina. I've been watching him. He's  
breathing heavily at the end of the breaks. Even when he was a pro,  
he wasn't known for going the distance. I think if you can keep him  
going for another round or two, he's going to run out of steam." 
 
Sharon regarded him for a moment. It made sense, and he was in a  
position to know. 
 
"Thanks for the advice, I'll keep it in mind." 
 
As the bell sounded for the fifth round, she heard him say, "Please  
be careful out there." 
 
Ordinarily a comment like that would have pissed her off. Now she  
was strangely touched by his concern. 
 
With his advice in mind, Sharon allowed Dyson to come to her. He had  
a smile on his face and looked confident, but he was also breathing  
hard and sweating like a pig. Dyson didn't even try to defend  
himself when she used her jab to slow him up. Calling on her  
vast knowledge of the sport, Sharon flicked out another jab. But  
this time she used her fingers to poke him in the eye. She wouldn't  
ordinarily use a move like that, but she now suspected that she was  
fighting for her life. Tyson yelped in pain, and instinctively  
brought his hand up to his face. Taking advantage of the opening,  
she attacked his kidneys and spleen. Dyson howled in frustration as  
he blindly backhanded her. Sharon was knocked backwards into the  
ropes. Dyson quickly charged in to do a little more damage to her  
bruised torso. But as he reached her, she lowered her forehead and  
butted him in the face. Dyson was stopped dead in his tracks as his  
head snapped backwards. Sharon quickly moved back to the center of  
the ring. Dyson lost his composure again. His nose was broken and  
fountaining blood. Bellowing like an ox, he charged her again.  
Sidestepping his rush, Sharon tripped him. Dyson went down hard. Even  
though her tactics were illegal, the crowd still appreciated them.  
They had seen Dyson do the same and worse. It amazed them that a  
young woman had such a knowledge of dirty tricks. After he got up,  
Sharon ran Matt around the ring until the bell sounded. Three  
attendants had to jump into the ring and wrestle Dyson back to his  
corner. He shouted at Sharon as he was dragged away. 
 
"You fucking bitch. You trying to make a fool out of me. I'm going  
to fuck you up, and then I'm going to fuck you up. You hear me.  
You're dead. Fuckin' dead." 
 
Sharon showed him her back as she returned to her corner.  
 
"I've never seen anyone handle Dyson like that. It was great." 
 
"Just using a couple of things my father taught me to watch out 
for when I was a kid," Sharon replied, not quite sure why she  
allowed him a glimpse at her personal side.  
 
Dyson was moving slower at the start of the sixth round. He had been  
to upset to even sit down during the break, and now he was openly  
gasping through his mouth. Sharon on the other hand was just getting  
her second wind. Her finely conditioned body responding to the brief  
intermission. Trying to keep Dyson from thinking clearly, she  
started to taunt him. 
 
"What's the matter big man, having trouble keeping it up? Come on  
asshole, I'm waiting for you. But then I'll bet you keep all of your  
girlfriends waiting." 
 
Dyson wasn't quiet sure what the hell she was talking about, but he  
knew she was making fun of his manhood. He tried to get at her,  
but she again put on a display of boxing skill to avoid his angry  
punches. After another minute, the champ finally ran out of steam.  
He stood in the center of ring gasping, holding his arms tiredly  
around his waist. It was now Sharon's turn to attack. Still  
dancing on the balls of her feet, she used her jab to torment him.  
Aiming for the thin skin around his eyes, she opened up a number of  
cuts. Matt tried to respond, but it was all he could do to try to  
use his arms to hide from her probing jabs. 
 
At the end of the round, Dyson could barely make it back to his  
corner. Dropping heavily on his stool, he tried in vain to call upon  
energy reserves which had disappeared years ago. He just couldn't  
understand what was happening. Sharon was a girl. He might have even  
considered her to be a hot looking babe, if he had picked her up in  
a club someplace. In Matt's universe, girls were weak and  
stupid. Receptacles for his pleasure, to be used, abused, and  
discarded. And now he was getting his ass kicked by a girl. She had  
suffered his full fury, and had survived. He was Matt Dyson, the  
most dangerous man in the world. What the fuck was going on? 
 
Sharon decided to stand in her corner and look down on Dyson. Her  
attendant was clearly happy with the turn of events. 
 
"He's finished, you could beat him now by rolling him off that 
stool," he said as he squirted water in her mouth. 
 
After spitting, she replied coolly, "He's not getting off that 
easily." 
 
Dyson had recovered enough at the start of round seven to throw a  
few punches. Sharon stood her ground, and let him hit her. Even  
though his punches lacked power, they still landed painfully on her  
battered flesh. After letting him have a dozen shots, she decided  
that it was her turn. Catching his big right fist in her left hand  
with a meaty slap, she shoved him towards a corner. A couple of jabs  
to the face knocked him back the rest of the way. Crouching low, she  
showed the crowd that Dyson wasn't the only fighter with biceps. Her  
arms exploded as she dug her fists into his thick stomach muscles.  
After taking five punches, he tried to wrap his tree trunk arms  
around her neck and use his weight to push his way out, but Sharon  
wouldn't budge. Setting herself, she sent another three punches  
splintering some ribs. Two more punches to his side, and four more  
to his aching gut finished him. The crowd was quiet for a second as  
she released him, and then exploded with applause as Dyson landed on  
the canvas like a side of beef.  
 
Dyson was dragged out of the ring and Sharon was given the  
championship belt. After posing for the crowd a few minutes, she  
took a shower and visited a Board doctor to get her various cuts  
bandaged and her ribs taped. When she was finished, she found her  
attendant waiting for her in the nearly empty arena. 
 
"I just wanted to hang around and make sure you were Ok." 
 
Sharon thought he sounded sincere. "Just the usual cuts and bruises  
with a rack of cracked ribs. Tomorrow, I'll visit a hospital to make  
sure there aren't any internal injuries. I've been through worse,  
and lived to make someone regret it. But thanks for hanging around to  
check, what's your name?" 
 
"My name's Rob, Rob Bolan. I'm really glad to hear you're Ok. The  
Board doesn't publicize it, but a few of Dyson's opponents died  
after being carted back here." 
 
"I think Dyson is worrying about himself right now." 
 
"I hope so, it's about time someone taught that neanderthal a boxing  
lesson. I just hope he quits the circuit." 
 
"Listen Bob, I won't be up for it for a few days, but would you care  
to go out on the strip with me when I'm feeling better?" Sharon  
asked. 
 
Bob's face lit up with a smile, "Gee Sharon, I'd love to." 
 
"It's a date then. I'll give you a call at the gym." 
 
"I'll be waiting. May I walk you to your car? This neighborhood can be  
dangerous after dark." 
 
What a stupid remark Sharon thought. She had just defeated the most  
dangerous man in the world, and this guy was worried about her  
crossing a parking lot. She might have been tempted to slap some  
sense into anyone else. But Rob was different. Unlike most of the  
lowlifes she had met lately, he seemed nice. He reminded her a bit  
of her father. 
 
"Sure, lets go," Sharon said hooking her arm so he could escort her  
out.  
 
 
Rob couldn't believe his luck. He had worshipped Sharon ever since  
she had showed up on the circuit. But he had heard she was an ice  
queen. But now, here she was allowing him the privilege of touching  
her rock hard bicep. And even better, she had asked him out. As he  
snuck glances at her battered, but beautiful face, he noticed a  
shadow detach itself from behind a car. 
 
"Sharon, watch out!" He cried as he shoved her out of the way of the  
baseball bat which had been descending towards the back of her  
skull. The killing blow caught him on the shoulder, breaking  
his collarbone. Rob went down to the pavement, clutching his  
injury as Sharon regained her balance and wheeled to face her  
attacker. 
 
"Matt Dyson. You couldn't take me in the ring man to woman, so you  
try taking me out with a baseball bat. At least you're exhibiting a  
better grasp of reality now." 
 
Dyson was standing about ten feet away holding the bat. He was  
wearing a pair of slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. Sharon felt some  
satisfaction seeing that he was wearing even more tape and bandages  
than she was.  
 
"You fucking bitch. Because of you, I'm never going to be able to  
show my face around here again. But you aren't going to be around  
either. I'm going to fuck you up. Then I'm going to take you and  
bend you over the hood of one of these cars and stick my dick up  
your ass. Then I'll probably do the same to pretty boy here. Haven't  
had anything like him since prison. Then I'm going to take you both  
for a little trip to my ranch. Come on bitch, give up and I'll do  
you quickly." 
 
Sharon raised her hand and started ticking off points with her  
fingers. "There are three problems with your plan. First, you missed  
your only chance. Second, I think you would probably have problems  
sticking your dick in a soggy doughnut. And third, you've really  
pissed me off now." 
 
Dyson charged her with a bellow of rage. Sharon ducked under the  
whistling bat and caught him in the midsection with her shoulder.  
Straightening up, she flipped him over her back onto the hood of a  
car. Dyson crashed down causing a massive dent. Twisting the bat out  
of his hands, she flung it into the dark. 
 
"Get up Dyson, its go time." 
 
Sharon was ready for him as he rolled off the car. Three hard rights  
hammered his face. He attempted to swing at her, but Sharon ducked  
and brought her right smashing into his ribs. Dyson's eyes bugged as  
his broken ribs shifted. 
 
"Hurts, does it?" Sharon asked as she used every ounce of her  
strength to drive her fist into the injured area again and again. 
 
After the first three blows, Dyson was hanging on to Sharon's  
shoulder just to stay up. Sharon felt his ribs breaking under her  
bare knuckles. Her last punch broke through his ribcage allowing her  
fist to sink an inch into his chest. Sharon stepped back. Dyson  
teetered for a second. She could see blood seeping though the tape  
were she had been hitting him. With a sick gurgling sound, he fell  
to his knees, and then collapsed to the concrete. 
 
Sharon helped Rob up by his good arm. 
 
"I think he's dead," Rob observed. 
 
"That was a gutsy thing you did for me, taking Dyson's hit. You  
saved my life." 
 
"I'd do it again in a second. You're worth it Sharon." 
 
For the first time in her life, Sharon was at a loss for words.  
After hesitating a minute, she asked, "You still want to go out with  
me?" 
 
Rob didn't hesitate. "More than ever. Don't worry about this Sharon,  
the Board will take care of it." 
 
"I don't think I'm going to worry about anything ever again," she  
replied as she helped Rob into her car. 
 
 
 
THE PRIZEFIGHT VI: THE ULTIMATE PRIZE 
                ------------------------------------- 
 
Authors note: To increase your enjoyment of this story, please check  
out BBW103.gif and BUSTFLEX.gif before you start. Then see LAFEM005.gif 
at the end. 
 
 
It was past one o'clock in the morning on a Monday night at the gym.  
All of the gym members were given their own key so that they could  
come in anytime they wanted. This worked out very well for me. I had  
recently been transferred to second shift down at the plant where I  
worked as a programmer, and I found that this was an ideal time to  
workout. I also appreciated the fact that I usually had the gym to  
myself that time of night. The only drawback was that there weren't  
any hard bodied females to check out. That situation was about to  
change. 
 
I was warming up on a stationary bike when the door opened. I was  
surprised to see two drop dead gorgeous girls enter the gym. I  
recognized the bartender's uniforms that they were wearing from a  
local club. The tight fitting white blouse and black slacks did  
nothing to hide their feminine curves. The first girl was a beautiful  
brunette, about five foot seven, and in her early twenties. The  
second girl was short and thin, about five two, with chestnut brown  
hair. She was older than the first girl, probably in her late  
twenties or early thirties. They spotted me as they walked towards the  
women's locker room, and the brunette gave me a little wave which I  
returned. She then whispered something to the older girl which caused  
her to smile and giggle. God they were cute.  
 
I wasn't a bad looking guy. I'm thirty years old, five eleven, two  
hundred and twenty pounds, mostly muscle. I've got a bit of a gut 
from too many fast food lunches which I was busy trying to work off,  
but otherwise I had a good body. So when this sexy pair of women  
came in and took note of me, I thought I had at least a chance in  
hell. 
 
When the girls came out of the locker room a few minutes later, I  
nearly fell off my seat. They were both wearing skimpy two piece  
workout outfits which were very close to being bikinis. The larger  
girl was wearing purple and the smaller girl was in gold. Even  
without the outfits, it would have been obvious that they were  
serious bodybuilders. Using a towel, they began to warm-up with some  
two man stretching exercises on the mat in the center of the gym. 
 
I waited a minute, then hopped off of the bike and casually strolled  
over to a step climber next to the mat. I now had an excellent view  
of the proceedings. They were sitting on the mat facing each other  
with their shoes touching. Grasping the towel, they were warming up  
their back muscles by engaging in what looked like a mini tug-o-war.  
The young brunette had big muscles without looking massive or bulky.  
Her biceps, triceps, and delts bulged as she kept tension in the  
towel. Her waist was thick with slabs of muscle, but combined with  
her broad shoulders and curvaceous hips, she still maintained an  
hourglass shape. Her large quads bulged as she bent forward.  
Her breasts were small from strict dieting. But what she had was  
proudly mounted on top of a pair of nicely rounded pects, giving her  
a muscular, but feminine cleavage. Small hard nipples managed to  
make themselves visible through her tight spandex top. I figured  
that she weighed about one hundred fifty five pounds. Despite the  
display of fantastic feminine muscle, I found myself entranced by  
her face. She had the innocent beauty of a farmer's daughter, with  
full lips, a perfect nose, and hazel eyes that a man could get lost  
in.  
 
They stood up and started to warm up their biceps. The larger girl's  
partner looked almost petite beside her. At first glance, she  
appeared thin, but that was deceptive. Her arms weren't nearly as  
large, but her biceps were peaking damn near as tall as the  
brunette's. Her waist was extremely thin and rippled with tiny  
washboard abs. Her quads were also thin, but solid muscle. Her  
breasts stood out in contrast to the hard cut of her body. She had a  
pair of C-cups which looked huge on her thin frame. Her large nipples  
looked ready to burst out of her strained top. It was obvious that  
they weren't real, but who cared. 
 
After they warmed up, they hit the weights. I was amazed at some of  
the poundage's they were lifting. I saw the larger girl come close to  
my best bench press with a two hundred and fifty pound lift. And the  
smaller girl was arm curling thirty pounds. That might not sound like  
much, but considering that she couldn't have weighed more than one  
hundred and ten, it was an impressive display. Even though I could  
probably lift more, pound for pound they would blow me away.  
 
After a brisk half hour workout, they both left for the room where  
the gym maintained a small boxing ring. I worked out with free  
weights for a few more minutes, and then my curiosity got the better  
of me. Poking my head in the door, I was mesmerized by the sight of  
the larger girl wearing boxing gloves and working out on the heavy  
bag. She had the eighty pound bag jumping as her fists landed with  
solid sounding thumps. Her girlfriend was working out on the  
speedbag. Her fists were a blur, and the impacts sounded like a  
machine gun. They both stopped as soon as they saw me looking. 
 
The smaller girl addressed me first. "Enjoying the show? Perhaps  
you'd like to help us with our workout?" 
 
I felt slightly embarrassed at being caught staring, but recovered  
quickly. "Sure, anything you lovely ladies need, I'd be happy to  
help you out with," I said, trying to be charming. 
 
"You should be careful when making those kinds of offers to  
strangers," the larger girl responded with a smile. "What's your  
name?"  
 
"My names Mark. And I meant it. I'd be honored to help you out." 
 
"Well my name's Laura, and she's Meryl. We were just about to do a  
bit of wrestling, but it gets boring practicing with each other all  
the time. How would you like to take your shirt off and try us?" 
 
Here I was looking at two of the most awesome females I had ever  
seen. They were buff and sweating, and had just invited me to put my  
hands all over them. I wanted to fall to my knees, throw my hands in  
the air and yell, "Thank you God!" 
 
Instead, I answered, "I'd love to. But I've got to warn you, I have  
no idea what I'm doing." 
 
"Don't worry about it. Just do your best to pin us. We'll take turns  
with you. First three falls wins." 
 
I tried to look calm as I took off my sweaty tank top. The girls  
looked pleased with what they saw, whispering back and forth, and  
flashing me little smiles. Laura entered the ring with me first. We  
shook hands and started to circle each other. Faster than I could  
respond, Laura leapt for the floor, grabbed my feet, and yanked them  
out from under me. She immediately wrapped a large arm around the  
back of my thigh, drove my knee into my chest, and pinned me firmly. 
 
Meryl slapped out a count, "One... two... three..." 
 
Laura released me, and we got back to our feet. She exchanged a loud  
slapping high-five with Meryl. "Laura and Meryl one fall, Mark zero." 
 
Squaring off with Meryl, I tried to make the first move. I thought I  
might grab her with a quick lunge, and then use my weight advantage  
to take her down. But she easily avoided me, and sent me tripping  
over a tiny Reebok onto my face. As I tried to get up, she jumped on  
me with her full one hundred and ten pounds. I could feel her  
breasts flatten themselves against my back as she smashed my face on  
the canvas. Grabbing me under the armpit, she tried to flip me over.  
I frustrated her efforts with my outstretched arm. Seeing that I was  
too heavy to move, she got up on all fours and scuttled backwards. I  
tried to get up again, but this time she grabbed my feet and drove  
them towards my back with her shoulders. I tried to kick her off,  
but she was planted solidly. Twisting with her whole body, she  
flipped me onto my back. She quickly resumed the hold, arms around  
my thighs, head between my legs, shoulders driving my knees into my  
chest. I watched her face twist in effort as she resisted the  
strength in my legs. From my perspective, I could see drops of sweat  
forming in her cleavage and running down her breasts, inches from my  
uncomfortably tight jock. Laura's three count brought me back to  
reality. 
 
They did another high-five and traded places. Meryl took her  
position as referee and announced, "Meryl and Laura two falls, Mark  
zero. Come on Mark, you're disappointing Laura. She had great  
expectations for you." 
 
Laura shot Meryl a playful look, "Meryl, Shut up. Just start the  
match." 
 
Meryl signaled for us to begin. I had the feeling that if I lost  
three in a row, they would leave and I would never see them again.  
And that would crush me. These amazons were the sexiest pair of 
women I had ever seen. And the thought of disappointing Laura was  
tearing my heart out. Her hazel eyes and flashing white smile had me  
mesmerized. It was love at first sight. I had a secret weapon, and it  
was time to use it. I hadn't wrestled since high school gym class,  
but I had been taking judo lessons for the last couple of years, 
and had nearly earned my black belt. So when Laura moved in, I  
raised my hands to challenge her to a test of strength. Her eyes lit  
up with glee, and she flashed me that smile. Raising her hands, she  
prepared to engage me. But instead of locking up with her, I  
grabbed her arm and executed a classic judo flip. Laura landed on  
her back with a loud whoosh as the air was knocked out of her.  
Wasting no time, I grabbed her legs and used the pin that Meryl had  
used on me. Laura tried to use her strong quads to kick me off, but  
my leverage advantage was too much for her. I was happy to note  
that Meryl didn't slow the count for her partner. 
 
Releasing Laura, it was my turn to announce, "Mark one fall, Laura  
and Meryl two." 
 
Laura looked me over as she spoke to Meryl, "Watch out. He's a  
tricky little devil. He might just make it." 
 
As Meryl started to circle me, she replied, "Not if I can help it." 
 
I let Meryl circle. I would force her to make the first move, so she  
couldn't use my momentum against me as she had before. She suddenly  
lunged for a single leg takedown. I used my years of judo training  
to keep my feet, and then I dropped on her back with my full two  
hundred plus pounds. She squirmed like an eel as I wrapped an arm  
around her waist. She was slick with sweat, but she couldn't escape.  
She tried to squeeze out of my grip, but couldn't force her hips  
through. Rolling, I flipped us both over and sat up. Meryl's  
head was now on the canvas between my legs. Leaning over, I slid her  
head forward trying to get her shoulder blades to touch the mat. She  
resisted me every inch of the way with her slender neck muscles.  
Laura had gotten down on all fours with her head on the mat to  
look for a pin. As soon as Meryl's shoulders touched, she started  
the count.  
 
"One... two..." 
 
Meryl surged with her neck and arms. She was in an impossible  
position, but she still managed to raise her shoulders a fraction of  
an inch above the mat. Laura's hand froze above the canvas on the  
count of three. Meryl had no chance, but she continued to fight.  
Laura didn't blink as she watched the struggle. The only sounds in  
the room were my grunts as I pushed, and Meryl's low cries as she  
resisted. After about ten seconds, her muscles gave out, and she  
collapsed. Laura administered the three count and then helped her  
partner up. 
 
"I think he made it," Laura said to Meryl. "Scores tied, two all." 
 
I was pleased with how things were going. By beating both of them, I  
had advanced to a higher level in the larger game. I offered to lock  
up with Laura again in a test of strength, but she just wagged her  
finger at me. Moving in and grabbing her upper arm, I turned and  
tried a hip toss. Laura started to go over, but then she snaked her  
free arm around my waist, stopping me dead. Sliding her other arm  
from my grasp, she applied a bear hug from behind, and lifted me off  
my feet. Her muscles contracted around my stomach like a python. I  
tried to break her grip by shoving down on her forearms, but it was  
futile. Flexing her thighs, she heaved me a foot in the air.  
Releasing her grasp and twisting around, she jammed both her hands  
in my chest, and power slammed me onto my back. I lay there  
stunned for a moment. Laura could have easily wrapped my legs up  
and gotten the pin, but instead she sat on my stomach and pinned my  
arms to the mat with her bulging triceps. Laura was looking right  
into my eyes as Meryl started to count. Bucking my shoulders off the  
mat, I stopped the count at two. As I looked back into Laura's eyes, I  
realized that she was giving me a last crucial test. Straining for  
all I was worth, I lifted my shoulders an inch above the mat.  
Laura's eyes seemed to sparkle. With a sudden effort, I flexed my  
arms and abs, lifting Laura's hundred and fifty plus pounds another  
two inches. Releasing the tension in my torso and twisting, I  
tried to heave her off of me. Laura lost her grip on my right arm,  
and nearly went over on her side.  But before I could take advantage  
of her position, she regained her balance and pounced on my free arm  
pinning me again. I continued to struggle as Meryl counted me out. 
 
I lay on the canvas for a few seconds collecting my breath after  
Laura got off of me. Laura held her hand out in a sportsman like  
manner and helped me up. 
 
Exchanging a final high-five with Meryl, she announced, "Laura and  
Meryl win, Three to two." 
 
They then huddled for a minute in the opposite corner talking something  
over. Climbing out of the ring, they motioned me over. Laura tossed  
me a towel and a bottle of water. 
 
"Here Mark, have a seat and rest a few minutes." 
 
I sat on the ring apron and took a drink as Laura continued, "You  
lost, but you did well enough to make the bonus round." 
 
Meryl continued, "As you already noticed, we also like to box.  
So we'd like to invite you to try us in a little low-high boxing  
match." 
 
Laura cut in, "I'll start off low. No punches below the belt or to  
the head. Only body punches are allowed." 
 
"Then I'll take over high. Only head punches will be allowed," said  
Meryl. 
 
"For you to win, all you have to do is knock one of us out. For us  
to win, both of us have to knock you out. After the first of us  
manages it, the second must continue to fight you alone until one of  
you wins. So what do you say, want a shot at the title?" Laura asked  
as she again flashed me that 'to die for' smile. 
 
Unfortunately, it sounded like they were determined to kill me.  
 
Meryl smiled at my hesitation and added, "I almost forgot to mention  
the best part. There's a prize if you win. You know that sandwich  
you've been dreaming about making with us ever since we walked  
through the door. Well if you win, we'll be the bread, and you'll  
apply the mayonnaise." 
 
I looked over at Laura. She nodded her head at me. All thoughts of  
injury fled my mind as I rushed to answer. 
 
In my best Stallone, I said, "Yo, lets go for it." 
 
Laura favored me with another smile, "I'm glad to here you say that  
Mark. So far you're batting a thousand. We'll meet you here tomorrow  
night for part two." 
 
When I woke up the next morning, I thought it had all been a dream,  
but my aching back told me otherwise. I called in sick to work, and  
started to prepare for the fight. I knew it was too late to try  
jumping rope or doing sit-ups. But I was already in pretty good  
shape. Based on their wrestling skills, and the way they were  
knocking the stuffing out of the punching bags, the girls obviously  
knew what they were doing. What I needed was a crash course in  
boxing. After making a few phone calls, I rushed down to a local  
boxing gym. Stuffing two hundred dollars into the owner's hand, I  
bought myself four hours of instruction with a trainer. I made up a  
story about being challenged by a little guy who was an ex-pro.  
After discussing my situation with him, he showed me the basics. We  
also discussed how I might be able to use my superior strength and  
reach to make up for my lack of experience. I had him hit me a few  
times in the gut full force, just to prove to myself that I could  
take it. He showed me how to protect my vulnerable spots, and how  
and where to hit someone to knock them out. At the end of the  
session, I felt that I had a good chance.  
 
Throughout the day, I ate a lot of carbs, and rested, building up my  
energy reserves. I had the chance of a lifetime here, and I intended  
to do all I could to win. Showing up to the gym early, I warmed up  
with some light biking. When the girls were five minutes late, I  
started to worry. But after another couple of anxious moments, the  
door opened and they walked in. 
 
"Hello Mark. Glad you decided to show," Laura greeted me. 
 
"Yea, we've been looking forward to this all day," Meryl said as she  
playfully punched me on the chin with her tiny fist. 
 
"Wild horses couldn't stop me," I replied. 
 
"Then it's too bad you aren't fighting wild horses. We'll be ready  
in a few minutes, why don't you wait in the boxing room for us." 
 
When they entered the room, I felt as though I had been gut punched.  
They each wore silk boxing shorts with matching satin bikini tops.  
Again, Laura again wore purple, and Meryl wore gold. Meryl caught me  
looking at her chest as her breasts made a bid for freedom. 
 
"Like our uniforms. Me and Laura used to be with one of those foxy  
boxing troupes. We just took it a lot more seriously than the rest  
of the girls. They asked us to leave because we were accidentally  
hurting people." 
 
Taking my hands, Laura taped me up, and laced on a pair of small  
eight ounce gloves. I didn't mind the light gloves. They would  
increase the odds of a lucky punch on my part ending in a knockout. 
Laura's muscles danced for me as she worked. God she looked good. 
When she was finished, Meryl laced her up. I spread the ropes for  
Laura as we entered the ring. 
 
"After you," I said with a smile. 
 
"Why thank you," Laura replied. 
 
Meryl announced the start of the fight, "The rules are simple. Two  
minute rounds with two minute rests. A fighter will be declared out  
at the count of ten. Remember, no punches to the head during the low  
rounds. Get ready, begin." 
 
Meryl activated the small ringside timer. Laura approached me  
aggressively with her hands held low. I crouched a bit as we met in  
the center of the ring. Laura hit first. Using her big arms, she  
hammered me in the ribs. I responded with a shot to the abs. It felt  
like hitting a phone pole. Laura smiled as she absorbed my blow and  
sent two rights into my side. She hit harder than the boxing trainer  
I had visited. Crouching low, I tried to cover my torso with my  
arms. Laura didn't have a problem with that. She just started  
hitting my shoulders and biceps. Taking advantage of her wide  
swings, I launched a hard punch for her solar plexus. Laura moved  
to avoid it, and I ended up smacking her right breast. I was about  
to apologize, but she didn't give a chance. Moving in close, she  
ripped into me. All I could do was try to survive her onslaught.  
 
After the bell sounded, I went over to their corner, where Meryl was  
lacing up, and said, "Please excuse me Laura, I wasn't trying to hit  
you there." 
 
"A gentleman, I like that. But don't worry about it. It's not  
against the rules. And if I thought you had done it on purpose, I  
would have gone after you for real." 
 
I hoped that she was kidding. She couldn't hit harder than  
that, could she? But it was Meryl that I had to worry about this  
round. I must have had a one foot reach advantage on her, but she  
moved too fast to hit. She ducked once, then twice, and then she  
was inside my guard, snapping my head back with her tiny fists. I  
tried to hit her a few more times during the round, but couldn't lay  
a glove on her. Meryl on the other hand, managed to hit me every  
time I lowered my guard to try something. 
 
The round ended, and I returned to my corner. This wasn't going well  
at all. It would be difficult to take out a normal fighter strictly  
with body punches. Against Laura's rock hard body, it would be damn  
near impossible. It should be relatively easy to take out Meryl with  
a hard shot to the head. But she would never give me a chance.  
Despite my best efforts, I hadn't come up with a plan by the time  
the next round started.  
 
As Laura entered the ring, Meryl said, "Stop taking it easy on him,  
and get me a target." 
 
The third round was hell. Laura continued to bore in without  
worrying about my attempts to hit her. As I huddled in a corner at  
the end of the round, she used her bulging triceps to hit my left  
arm a dozen times. No doubt it would be black and blue tomorrow.  
 
As Laura returned to her corner, she told Meryl, "There you go, have  
fun." 
 
I wondered what she meant. But as I went out to meet Meryl in the  
fourth round, I found out. My left arm had stiffened during the two  
minute break, and was difficult to hold up. The first half of the  
round, I managed to cover up and keep her wary of my punches. But as  
the round progressed, I found myself dropping my sore left. Every  
time I dropped my guard a bit, Meryl managed to score. She stung the  
left side of my faced at least ten times, including one  
particularly hard punch that started a mouse under my eye. When the  
bell sounded, Laura greeted her with a gloved high-five. 
 
Back in my corner I was desperate. Their strategy was apparent now.  
Laura would use her strength to lower my guard, while Meryl would  
pick me apart with her speed. My original "lucky punch" strategy  
was useless against them. They were just too damned good. But as I  
thought about my opponents, I realized that they might have some  
vulnerabilities that weren't obvious. I began to formulate a plan. 
 
Laura continued to work my body during round five. I covered up and  
tried to absorb as many blows as I could with my gloves and  
forearms. I only hit back enough so that it wasn't obvious that I was  
trying to save my strength. When the round ended, I made a show of  
breathing heavily, and tiredly slumping in my corner. I felt like  
hell as I saw Laura's look of disappointment from across the ring,  
but I had to look bad if my plan was to succeed. 
 
Meryl didn't look disappointed. She looked like a cat getting ready  
to play with a helpless mouse. At the sound of the bell, I continued  
my act. Getting up like an old man, I let Meryl come to me. I held  
my gloves in front of my face, countering with weak, slow punches.  
As I let her push me around the ropes, I gradually let down my  
guard. When I had reached the corner that Laura was standing behind,  
I acted as if I were done. Pretending that I could barely hold my  
hands up, I let Meryl hit me half a dozen times. It hurt like hell,  
but I could take it. At this point, I could see that Meryl was  
confident that I couldn't hit back.  
 
Stopping for a second she glanced over at her partner and said,  
"Sorry Laura, looks like you overestimated him." 
 
I couldn't see it, but I could feel Laura's disappointment hitting  
me in the back, as Meryl hit me in the front. Meryl was standing  
right in front of me now. When I saw that all of her concentration  
was focused on battering my face, I suddenly snapped out of my  
stupor and caught her with a big right hand in the forehead. Meryl  
stumbled backwards towards the center of the ring trying to shake  
the cobwebs out. I immediately pursued her, not giving her a chance  
to recover. A big roundhouse right spun her on her feet. A left  
snapped her head to one side. She was out on her feet, but I could  
tell that she was still fighting to stand. Jesus, she was tough.  
Bending low, I launched an uppercut which hit her right under the  
jaw and knocked her mouthpiece flying. I swear her feet left the  
canvas as she went flying on her back. Laura counted to ten in a  
monotone voice, then went over to make sure Meryl was OK. 
 
After trying to revive her for a few minutes, Meryl finally  
regained consciousness.  
 
"Your right, he is tricky." 
 
After a few more minutes, Meryl had nearly recovered. 
 
Looking up at me she said, "Guess you've earned that sandwich." 
 
Looking at Laura, I could see that she wasn't happy, and I thought I  
knew why. 
 
"I don't want the sandwich. I'll give it all up for one date with you  
Laura." 
 
Meryl looked shocked, "Most men would kill for a chance to be with  
us. Are you sure you're willing to give it up?" 
 
"I'm sure," I replied, maintaining eye contact with Laura. 
 
"Gee Laura, I think you might have a keeper here. Have fun kids." 
 
Laura finally spoke, "That wasn't part of the bargain. You did earn  
the sandwich. But if you want to go out with me, you're going to  
have to win the extra bonus round. You're going to have to knock me  
out also, and do it low." 
 
"What are you, nuts?" Meryl exclaimed. 
 
Laura just watched me, waiting for my reaction. I wasn't surprised  
at her response. I had avoided her, and tricked Meryl. In her mind, I  
had cheated on the test. If I wanted her now, I would have to prove  
myself to her by taking a harder test - her test. 
 
Looking Laura right in the eyes, I said, "Lets go, we're wasting  
time." 
 
Laura nodded with approval, but it was far from over. I didn't know  
how I was going to beat her. She was damn near as strong me, and had  
only boxed half as many rounds. Meryl sounded the bell and we  
touched gloves. Laura immediately started throwing leather. But this  
time I held my ground and matched her punch for punch. We beat the  
shit out of each other for the full two minutes. When the bell  
sounded, neither of us was willing to quit. Meryl had to force her  
small body between us to get us to stop. 
 
"What the hell's the matter with the two of you? If I didn't know  
better, I'd think that you didn't like each other." 
 
She didn't know. This wasn't about like. It was about love. And  
whether or not I was worthy to love a woman like Laura. 
 
Round two started off the same way. We stood toe to toe exchanging  
shots. But as the round progressed, I started to give ground. And  
this time it wasn't an act. Eight rounds of boxing had taken their  
toll. At the end of the round Laura had me against the ropes. 
 
Round three, I could barely get up to meet her. Laura herded me into  
a corner and punished my tired gut. I threw my arms around her to try  
and slow her down. Laura wouldn't have it. Jamming her gloves into  
my nipples, she disdainfully shoved me away. With another four  
thudding blows, she put me down. 
 
"You want me Mark? Get up and take me." 
 
At Meryl's count of seven, I managed to regain my feet. Laura cut me  
no slack as she continued to pound me heavily until the end of the  
round. 
 
I was in trouble from the start of round four. Laura marched  
right over to me and whipped her fist into my lower abs, just inches  
above my dick. As I doubled over, she put her hands on my shoulders  
and shoved me onto my ass. 
 
Looking down at me, she commanded, "Stay down." Glancing back at  
Meryl, she said, "What the hell are you looking at? Start  
counting." 
 
Meryl started her count. Ignoring the agony of my angry purple  
stomach, I lurched to my feet at the count of four. Laura smacked  
her gloves together and came at me from the neutral corner. With  
nothing but the ropes holding me up, I couldn't do anything except  
watch her.  
 
When Laura reached me, she said, "When... I... Tell... You... To...  
Stay... Down... You... Goddamn... Better... Stay... Down..." 
 
She punctuated each word with a vicious punch. The last one sent  
me crashing to the mat with a few cracked ribs. Meryl grimly started  
her count. She wasn't quite sure what was going on, but she didn't  
like it. Using the ropes to pull myself up, I got to my feet by the  
count of nine. 
 
Ignoring the pain in my chest, I motioned Laura to close with me with  
my gloved hands. "Come on Laura, this fight isn't nearly over yet." 
 
Laura went berserk. Charging me, she hit my injured chest like a  
linebacker, sending me flying towards my corner. Grasping my jaw  
with her left hand, she held me up, while repeatedly driving her  
right fist into my intestines. Meryl sounded the bell. Laura  
wouldn't stop. Meryl quickly climbed through the ropes, and jumped on  
Laura's broad back, pulling her off of me. 
 
"I'm stopping this fight right now. Were going home." 
 
Laura flung her off, and yelled, "Mind your own fucking business!" 
 
Meryl got up and positioned herself in front of me. 
 
"I'm not going to let you kill him." 
 
I surprised Meryl by shoving her aside.  
 
"You heard the lady, mind your own fucking business." 
 
Meryl climbed back outside the ropes shaking her head. 
 
"You want to die, fuck it. Thirty seconds till round five." 
 
I stayed in my corner and made Laura come for me. Her blows seemed  
to have lost much of their strength as she started to pound me. 
 
"Fight me, damn you! Fight for me!" Laura cried in an impassioned  
tone. 
 
I don't know where I found the strength, but Laura's words triggered  
something deep inside me. Exploding out of the corner, I shoved her  
back to the center of the ring. We paused there for a second,  
trading punches, then I slowly started to drive her back towards her  
corner. After what seemed like hours, I finally trapped her.  
Releasing all of my pent-up emotions, I unleashed punch after punch  
into her sweaty torso. Finally feeling her abs collapse before my  
leather clad hands, I sent one more punch into her stomach, hooking  
deep under her ribcage. Laura fell to her knees with a gurgle. She  
paused for a moment, and looked up at me. Her pretty face expressed  
a mixture of agony and respect. After a few seconds, she rolled over  
onto her side clutching her belly. I clung to the ropes to stay up  
as Meryl counted. 
 
When she reached ten, I heard Laura groan, "You win, you bastard." 
 
A few seconds after it was over, I collapsed beside her and lost  
consciousness. 
 
It was three weeks until I was fit enough to claim my prize.  
Arriving at the apartment where Laura and Meryl were roommates, I  
knocked on the door. I was wearing my best suit, and had a dozen red  
roses in my hand. Meryl opened the door and let me in. 
 
"Hi Mark, your looking a lot better now. Laura's going to be a few  
more minutes. She's been acting like a schoolgirl going out on her  
first date." 
 
"I feel better. The doctors said that I should be fine if I take it  
easy for a few months." 
 
From behind me I heard, "Then you'll be lucky if you survive the  
night." 
 
I turned to see Laura enter the room. She looked gorgeous in a  
sleeveless white dress. As I led her out the front door, I knew that  
I had made the right decision. A sandwich makes a good snack, but  
the next day you'll be hungry again. 


FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723