FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723   
 
 
           THE PRIZEFIGHT VII: Lori Joins the Circuit 
           ------------------------------------------ 
 
Lori was taking a vacation. It wasn't a vacation by choice. You  
could say that Lori's hobby was boxing, but that wasn't quite true.  
Lori's hobby was kicking ass. Boxing was her method of choice. She  
had recently goaded a man into a private match. After ripping him  
apart for about half an hour, she had left him looking like a lump  
of ground meat in the center of the ring. As was her custom, she had  
called him an ambulance before disappearing into the night. Unlike  
her other victims, he actually went to the police and filed a  
report. Every other man she had ever done that to would have been  
too embarrassed to say anything. But she had to run into the one male  
secure enough in his masculinity to admit it. Secure hell, he was  
probably a homo. Anyway, that was why she was here in Vegas. The  
cops had been asking about her in the local gyms. Even though nobody  
knew where she lived or what her real name was, a lot of people had  
seen her. And once they saw her, they never forgot her. If she had  
hung around Los Angeles, it would only be a matter of time before  
somebody dropped a dime on her. 
 
Lori found Vegas to be a boring city. Gambling with money held  
little attraction for somebody who was willing to bet her body in  
brutal contests for fun. So it was no wonder that after a few weeks  
of working out in hotel gyms, she went looking for some local  
action. She joined a boxing gym on the outskirts of the city. It  
wasn't what she was used to. It was neat, clean, and sanitary. None  
of the members appeared to be real boxers. They looked like a bunch  
of yuppie assholes trying to keep from getting old and fat. She  
missed the smell of stale sweat in a real gym. The obscene banter  
and spitting on the floor were fond memories. If she didn't find  
herself a challenge soon, she would probably have to start something  
with some poor shmuck. Fortunately, she found some volunteers. 
 
Lori had been hitting the weights heavy lately. Combined with her  
recent inactivity, it had caused her to bulk up considerably. She  
was now packing one hundred and sixty five pounds on her five foot  
nine inch frame. She had been working her upper body, and her  
muscles were pumped to the point of exploding. Her sweaty tank top  
clung tightly to torso revealing her massive chest and chiseled abs.  
Beads of sweat were rolling off of her pects between smallish breasts  
which looked as hard as apples. Her dark nipples threatened to rip  
through the flimsy fabric. She often dressed like this to attract  
potential victims, but these assholes were to polite to say  
anything. So it actually surprised her when she was accosted by  
three men working out in one of the gyms small rings. She had been  
heading for the showers when she heard the comments. 
 
"Jesus, will you get a load of that. She looks like just came in  
from the parking lot after benching some cars." 
 
"She looks like she could crack walnuts with her tits." 
 
"Hey babe. How about a date. We can arm wrestle to see who gets to be  
on top." 
 
It slowly sank in. Hey babe? Hey fuckin' babe? The first two  
comments hadn't bothered her. She might even consider them  
complements. But the dating comment yanked her chain. Lori turned  
slowly to face the three men. Two of them were typical members. More  
at home on a golf course than in the ring. The third man, the one  
who had called her babe, was huge. He was about six four, two sixty.  
Walking closer, she addressed his remark. 
 
"Arm wrestlings for wimps. Why don't we box to see who's on top." 
 
"Hey babe, I'm a lover not a fighter." 
 
Lori jumped up on the ring apron. Before he could react, she reached  
through the ropes, grabbed his trunks, and yanked them out.  
 
Looking down, she said, "You sure aren't a sword fighter. More like  
a potato peeler fighter." 
 
The big guy's buddies cracked up at this, and his face visibly  
reddened. 
 
"What would a fucking dike like yourself know about it?" 
 
"Dike? You look like you've got a great suit against the doctor who  
screwed up your sex change. Which way were you changing?" 
 
The big dude looked really pissed now. He reached down and grabbed  
her wrist and tried to get her hand out of his pants. A look of  
disbelief crossed his face when her arm didn't budge. 
 
"Strong grip you've got there. No doubt you developed it squeezing  
that lump of putty in your pants." 
 
"Get off of me you fucking bitch." 
 
He made the mistake of trying to push her. Before he could make  
contact with her chest, she expertly snagged his hand and bent  
his wrist back. He trembled for a second, trying to resist the  
painful hold, but he couldn't resist. Slowly and deliberately, Lori  
forced him to his knees. 
 
"No need to beg, big man. I'll tell you what, if you can beat me,  
you can eat me." 
 
She released him with a final shove that put him on his ass. The  
sounds of laughter filled the gym. Most of the members had been  
watching the spectacle after hearing his outburst. The muscle-head  
got up quickly. His face was beet red now.  
 
"You want some of this bitch! Come in here and get it!" 
 
Lori didn't hesitate to climb through the ropes. 
 
"Thought you'd never ask. Hey stud, toss me those gloves." 
 
Lori quickly put on the gloves and got in his face before he had a  
chance to reconsider his hasty words. By now, the whole gym was  
crowding around the ring. The big dude's buddies had wisely fled and  
left him to his fate. Lori didn't waste any time. She moved in and  
sent three quick jabs upward into his face. He responded with a  
slow, muscle-bound swing which she easily ducked. Using her right  
hand, she smashed his ribs like Rocky hitting a side of beef. 
 
Lori was feeling better than she had in weeks. Punching a bag was no  
substitute for a real fight. Bags didn't grunt when you hit them.  
They didn't bleed either. Muscle-head went crazy from the pain of  
being hit for real. He lunged at her with open arms looking to  
squash her like a bug. Lori waited until the last possible moment.  
Have you ever seen the Rock'em Sock'em Robots toy? Well witnesses  
swear that they saw his thick neck stretch two inches from the force  
of her uppercut. His full two hundred and sixty pounds stopped dead  
for a second. Then, almost in slow motion, he fell on his back as if  
he was dead. The crowd was silent for a second.  
 
From the back of the room, someone said, "I think she broke his  
freakin' neck." 
 
Someone jumped into the ring to check him. 
 
"He's breathing. Call an ambulance." 
 
Lori wasn't pleased for two reasons. First, she had called unwanted  
attention to herself. Second, and more importantly, he had gotten  
off too easily. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as she left the  
ring. As she headed for the showers, she caught a few remarks. 
 
"Holy shit, did you see that. She dropped him like an ox." 
 
"I've never seen anyone hit so hard. She might even be a match for  
Sharon." 
 
"Don't get carried away. She's good, but nobody's better than  
Sharon." 
 
Lori was frowning as she lathered up her naked body in the  
shower. Who the hell was this Sharon? She had overheard the name a  
few times before, and had gathered that she was another boxer. But  
it pissed her off to hear people negatively compare her to that  
bitch. Lori had faced a few women before. She smiled at the thought  
of her last encounter. A few months ago, she had been working out at  
a gym much like this one. She had noticed a man and woman regularly  
training together. From the way they acted, it was obvious that they  
were much more than workout partners. She had waited until he was  
alone, and invited him to spar. Getting him into the ring, she beat  
the shit out of him. His girlfriend walked in and flipped. She  
challenged her to a fight. She had been a tough bitch, but Lori  
was a lot tougher. She fucked her up in front of her boyfriend. And  
if that wasn't satisfying enough, he had flipped out and attacked  
her, giving her the chance to fuck him up again. The last she heard,  
they were in adjoining hospital beds. So she wasn't intimidated by  
the thought of meeting this Sharon. Probably some local version of  
herself. And judging by the local talent, she had nothing to worry  
about. 
 
As Lori left the gym, she saw muscle-head being carried out on a  
stretcher with a neck brace. Time to join another gym. As she walked  
towards her Bronco, a small man approached her in the parking lot. 
 
"That was a pretty impressive show you put on back there. I'd like  
to make you a proposition." 
 
Lori wasn't in the mood.  
 
"Look asshole, I've got no time for your shit. Get out of my way or  
save some money doubling up on the ambulance ride." 
 
The guy backed off a couple of steps and put up his hands. 
 
"Hey, it's not that type of proposition. I'm looking for fighters  
interested in picking up a few bucks." 
 
"Turning pro isn't my style." 
 
"It isn't exactly sanctioned. I manage a small private gym.  
Occasionally we stage some cash fights for local gamblers. I figure  
with your looks and talent, we could clean up." 
 
Lori paused for a moment. It wasn't a bad offer. A place to work  
out, and a couple of bucks to help out with the hotel bills. 
 
"I might be interested." 
 
"Excellent. But I've got to warn you, these fights can get rough." 
 
Lori almost broke out laughing. What a clown. 
 
"Don't worry. I think my delicate constitution can take it." 
 
"My name's Harry James. Here's my card. The gym is open twenty four  
hours a day, combinations on the back. Stop by anytime you're ready." 
 
Lori dropped in two days later. She was surprised at the place.  
Outside, it was a plain white concrete block building with a storage  
company's sign on the side. She checked the address twice before  
trying the lock. The door opened and she entered. There was a hall  
about twenty feet long leading to a second door with a camera  
mounted above it. As she approached, a voice came from a hidden  
speaker. 
 
"Please identify yourself." 
 
"My name's Lori. Lori Jones. Harry James invited me to come down." 
 
Lori held the card up before the camera. 
 
"You're expected Miss Jones. Thank you for coming." 
 
The door buzzed to admit her. Inside, Lori was dazzled by the best  
equipped boxing gym she had ever seen. There were four full sized  
rings. Ten leather heavy bags hung along one wall. They weren't the  
taped up pieces of shit she was used to hitting. Various types of  
speed bags lined another wall, some in odd looking configurations  
she had never seen before. A garage sized door gave her a  
glimpse of the weight room. It looked like Gold's Gym at Venice  
Beach where she had worked out during her body building days.  
Everything in the place looked new and barely used. But it clearly  
was used, and used hard.  
 
A dozen men were working out in the gym. Nobody would mistake them  
for yuppies. They were clearly professional fighters. Most of them  
sported some serious looking scars. A few of then had some major  
facial disfigurement. All of them looked like mean sons of bitches.  
Lori felt like she was home again. 
 
Lori walked over to get a closer view of an odd looking piece of  
equipment. Harry James approached her from a back office. 
 
"Like it. It's a meter used to measure punching power. It used to  
belong to the East German Olympic boxing team. We picked it up after  
the wall came down. Here, give it a try." 
 
James flicked a switch and a monitor lit up. 
 
"Just punch the pad as hard as you can." 
 
"Don't mind if I do." 
 
Lori threw a couple of short right jabs to warm her shoulder up.  
Then she suddenly shot forward and slammed her fist into the pad with  
a sharp crack. The monitor popped up with a graph bearing a large  
"787" marking the peak of the curve. The manager looked ecstatic. 
 
"Damn that's good. Most of the guys here would have trouble matching  
that. Of course, you're a woman, and we've found that a woman's  
smaller fist area gives them an advantage in penetration for the  
amount of force exerted. This machine is supposed to help train you  
to utilize your strength to hit harder. Even with your punch, I'll  
bet you could still raise that number twenty five percent with some  
practice." 
 
"You have other women members?" Lori asked. 
 
"Well, we have one woman member. You'll make two if you're accepted." 
 
"Is her name Sharon?" 
 
"Heard of her, have you? We've got to watch the leaks. Yes, her  
name's Sharon, Sharon Moore. In fact, she's the current champion of  
our association." 
 
"Women's champion you mean?" 
 
"We don't differentiate. In fact, we don't even have weight classes." 
 
"These fighters," Lori motioned with her thumb, "she beat them?" 
 
"These guys," James laughed, "they aren't even in line for a shot.  
Does that scare you?" 
 
"Not at all. In fact, I'm looking forward to meeting Sharon. I think  
she's got something I want. Her title." 
 
The manager laughed again, "You've got balls. None of these guys  
would dare say anything like that, even as a joke. I'm glad we  
didn't misjudge you." 
 
"We?" 
 
"The Board. They've been looking for you a long time Miss Jones, or  
should I say Miss Demonet." 
 
"You have five seconds to start explaining before your face measures  
a 787." 
 
"No need for violence. At least, not outside the ring. I downplayed  
the extent of our organization. Have you ever heard of illegal cash  
fighting in your home city?" 
 
"Yeah, I've heard of it. Big money bet on back alley bare knuckles  
matches. I was even approached once, but I turned them down. I  
prefer to do my real fighting in private for my own reasons." 
 
"Those fights are small time. One of our local chapters generates  
more revenue in a night than all of the back alley fights make in a  
month. But this isn't a local chapter. We are the nationals. The  
locals act like farm teams for us. The money at this level rivals  
and sometimes exceeds professional boxing. One of the functions of  
the locals is to identify and recruit talent for us. Your exploits  
have not gone unnoticed. To date, you have put at least fifty men  
and women in the hospital that we know of. You have also taken  
seventeen championship belts and trophies from their former owners." 
 
"Nineteen, actually," Lori interrupted. 
 
"Yes, well we aren't omnipotent. We're just a sporting organization.  
About three years ago, Sharon joined our Chicago chapter. Within a  
year, she had taken the city championship, and was asked to join the  
nationals. Within another year, she managed to take the national  
title. If I told you who she beat to get it, you'd shit yourself." 
 
"I don't care who she beat to get it. I care who she's going to have  
to beat to keep it." 
 
"That's why you're here. Before Sharon was champion, we probably would  
have let the locals recruit you. But with her ascension, there has  
been a tremendous amount of pressure from our patrons to recruit  
other women fighters to challenge her. We were recently looking at a  
lass named Diane as a potential prospect. That is, until you put her  
in the hospital." 
 
Lori smiled at the memory. 
 
James continued, "So we followed the trail of broken bodies and  
finally caught up with you here. If you agree to fight for us,  
we can help you out with that little police problem you have at  
home. And we can also help you with any future police problems. And  
of course, there's always the money. I won't trouble you about it,  
since I don't think that's a motivator for you. Lets just say it's a  
lot more than the President makes, and a little less than Ross Perot." 
 
"So when do I get to I get to meet Sharon?" 
 
"She's on her honeymoon right now. Married her ring attendant from  
her championship fight. She won't be back for a few weeks yet. But  
you can't face her immediately anyway. You've got to fight a couple  
of national level competitors first. If for no other reason, so we  
can set the odds." 
 
"So I have to beat a couple of these assholes before I meet Sharon." 
 
James nodded. 
 
"So pick two. Have them waiting in the ring for me by the time I get  
out of the dressing room." 
 
He smiled again, "I think we're going to make a lot of  
money together." 
 
Lori returned his smile, "I think we're going to kick some ass." 
 
Lori returned fifteen minutes later wearing a white tank top and  
shorts. Her fists had been expertly taped by one of the expert  
attendants back in the locker room. James had chosen her opponents.  
He had selected the largest fighter and the smallest. 
 
"I can understand you choosing the small guy for speed and finesse,  
but I thought you'd already seen me take out a muscle-head," Lori  
commented. 
 
"There's a difference. This muscle-head knows how to fight. Bruno,  
you go first." 
 
Lori's opponent entered the ring. He was a hairy slab of meat.  
Probably about six three, two forty. The bell was sounded, and the  
fight began. Lori moved in first. She led off immediately with a  
left right combination. Bruno took a swing at her which she  
purposely let connect. The blow nearly knocked her over, but she  
managed to retain her balance. 
 
"My mother hits harder than that." 
 
Bruno stuck his jaw out. 
 
"Come on little girl, show me what you've got." 
 
Lori accepted the invitation. Her roundhouse whipped his head around  
and sent his mouthpiece flying out of the ring. Bruno staggered for  
a second, shook his head, and smiled through bloody teeth. 
 
"Sharon hits harder than that." 
 
At ringside, James winced. Wrong thing to say Bruno. But Bruno  
was finding that out for himself. Lori had leapt on him like a  
panther. Bruno was overwhelmed by the fury of her attack. A left to  
the jaw, a right to the nose, a gut punch. Bruno tried to hit back,  
but it just opened him up for more. Lori drove him like cattle into  
a corner. Bruno hit the ropes as Lori drove her fist deep into his  
solar plexus. Bruno dropped his hands and clutched at his heart with  
shallow gasps. She took advantage of this with three more punches to  
the face. Bending over, she grabbed Bruno's feet. Straightening up,  
she flipped him over the top rope where he fell eight feet to the  
floor with a dull smack. Her white taped fist displayed fresh red  
stains as she pointed towards her next opponent. 
 
"Get your ass in here you sorry sack of shit, before I get mad." 
 
"You heard the lady, get in there Benny," James ordered. 
 
Benny looked a little reluctant as he entered the ring. And who  
could blame him? This woman was a meat grinder. She could fight, but  
could she box? Benny decided to find out. Using his superior reach  
advantage, he sent a quick left jab into Lori's nose. Lori backed up  
for a second and wiped the blood from her nostrils on her wrist. 
 
After contemplating the redness for a second, she looked up and said,  
"So, you think you know how to box? Bet you also think you're quick.  
You probably even think you know how to satisfy a woman. Let me tell  
you how this is going to go. I'm not going to use anything to beat  
you but my left hand. I'm not going to use any punch except a jab.  
And, I'm only going to hit your nose. Got it?" 
 
Nobody could tell if Benny had tried to nod or not, because before  
anyone could react to her announcement, she flashed the two steps  
towards him, and drove a hard left directly into his nose. Benny's  
head snapped back. As it came forward, his nose was met with a  
second left jab. Blood started to pour out. 
 
"You fucking bitch!" 
 
How original Lori thought, why she hadn't been called that in days.  
She expertly avoided Benny's swings, causing him to miss by inches.  
Every time he missed, she connected with a left jab to his nose.  
After about a minute of this, Benny's nose was broken and swollen.  
His eyes were watering so badly he could hardly see. Giving up on  
offense, he concentrated on protecting his broken nose. 
 
Lori taunted him, "Come on Benny, I know you're hiding back there,  
show yourself." 
 
Lori backed him against the ropes with her flicking hand. She  
suddenly stood still like a statue for five seconds. A curious  
Benny parted his fists a crack to see what was going on. Lori's  
fist was a blur as it darted between the gap to land with the  
sickening sound of bone on bone. Benny stumbled around trying to  
hold his nose. Similar to an old joke, all he got for his trouble  
were broken fingers. Lori continued the exercise for another two  
minutes. In the end, she didn't knock Benny out, he fainted. 
 
Benny's face was covered with spattered blood, but was otherwise  
untouched. As for his nose, he didn't really have one anymore. It  
looked like a couple of red flattened lumps of flesh and cartilage  
randomly distributed in the middle of his face. Even the hardened  
pit fighters looked a little queasy at what Lori had done. Benny  
stirred a bit and managed to open his eyes. Lori bent over and  
grasped the largest chunk of nose flesh between two curled fingers.  
 
With a sudden yank, she said, "Hey Benny, got your nose." 
 
Benny focused for a second on the dripping hunk of flesh she held  
before his face. His eyes then rolled back and he lost consciousness  
again. Lori dropped his nose onto his chest. One of the fighters  
threw up on the floor. Lori looked out on the stunned faces. 
 
"It could have been worse. Once, a guy punched me in the groin.  
Anybody want to hear the story?" 
 
All of the fighters seemed to have remembered that they were late  
for an urgent appointment. 
 
"Hey guys, come back. Is there something wrong with my breath?" 
 
James came over to congratulate her. 
 
"Great work Lori. We got it all on tape. After the Board sees this,  
you should be clear for a title shot against Sharon. Besides, after  
today, I don't think we're going to be able to find anyone else to  
fight you." 
 
 
 
Five thousand miles away on a sandy white beach, Bob rubbed suntan  
lotion on Sharon's broad muscular back. He had loved her from the  
first moment he had seen her. She had fallen for him during her  
championship fight against Matt Dyson. Both of them realized each  
other's love when Bob had sacrificed himself to save Sharon's life  
from a wildly swung baseball bat. After seeing her through five title  
defenses and a hundred nights of passion, he had asked her to marry  
him. Sharon had agreed immediately. They were now on their honeymoon 
discussing the future. 
 
"I don't want you to fight on the circuit anymore Sharon. Every time  
you step into the ring, you're risking your life. It just isn't  
worth it. Look what happened to Dyson." 
 
"I happened to Dyson. And they don't even have anyone close to his  
level. Besides, we need the money. One more fight, and we're set for  
life. We can open up our own gym and live happily ever after." 
 
"Look Sharon, I think we can make it with what we've got now. And  
I'm worried about you. Don't get offended, but since you became  
champion and met me, you've lost the eye of the tiger." 
 
Sharon rolled over to expose her magnificent upper body and naked  
breasts. 
 
"You want to see the eye of the tiger lover. Climb on. Grrrrrrr." 
 
 
 
Back in Vegas, the monitor flashed "892". Lori's new manager slapped  
her on the back. 
 
"A thirteen percent increase in less than a week. Sharon's never  
going to know what hit her." 
 
Lori slapped him back, nearly knocking him down. 
 
"Fucking-A. And if you ever touch me again, I'm going to rip your  
spine out your asshole," she said with a smile. 
 
"That's the spirit. I think you've got what it takes to beat Sharon.  
But it never hurts to have an extra edge. I've got a ticket to  
Chicago with your name on it. Here's what I'd like you to do." 
 
As Lori listened to James's plan, her smile broadened. It wasn't a  
bad plan, and it sounded like it might be fun. Her kind of fun. 
 
 
To be continued ..... 
 
 
              THE PRIZEFIGHT VIII: Sharon vs. Lori 
              ------------------------------------ 
 
Jack Moore was just finishing up his kids class at the local youth  
center. A former Golden Gloves champion like his father before him,  
he felt that the discipline boxing instilled was good for them to  
learn. As he dismissed them, he saw the outline of somebody coming  
through the doorway. It was a woman, but what a woman. She was about  
five foot nine with a muscular upper body which tapered down to a  
slim waist and then exploding with powerful hips and thighs 
 
As she approached closer, he could make out some details. She was an  
attractive brunette with brown eyes set in a beautifully featured  
face. She was wearing a tight fitting white top with a short leather  
mini-skirt. Her body was incredibly hard looking. Even her smallish  
breasts looked pumped like tennis balls. As she approached the ring,  
he realized that he had been staring. 
 
She gave him a friendly smile, "What's the matter, never seen a  
woman like me before?" 
 
"As a matter of fact, you remind me of my sister." 
 
"Oh, is your sister a bodybuilder also?" 
 
"You could say that. She always lifted for the sports she played.  
She used to do volleyball, softball, and gymnastics. She even did  
a little boxing," Jack smiled back.  
 
"Well that's actually why I'm here. Someone told me that I could get  
some private lessons in return for a donation to the youth center.  
They also told me to ask for Jack Moore. They told me he really  
knows how to box." 
 
"You heard right. I'm Jack, and that's my Golden Gloves trophy in the  
case over there. I'd be glad to show you what I know." 
 
"Glad to meet you Jack, My name's Cathy Jones. Can you handle late  
lessons? I get off work at ten." 
 
"Sure, I've got a key to center. Just see Brian in the office. We  
can start tonight if you want." 
 
"Tonight will be great. I'll be looking forward to it." 
 
Jack watched her retreat towards the office. Her rock hard buttocks  
muscles were causing a commotion under that skirt. Damn she looked  
good. He couldn't believe his luck. Most woman just went to one of  
those new yuppie co-ed gyms when they wanted to play at boxing. This  
woman actually looked serious. 
  
After she left, Brian came running out of the office. 
 
"You must have made quite an impression on that lady you lucky son  
of a bitch. She just donated a thousand dollars to the center.  
Private lessons? Just make sure you clean up any body fluids left in  
the ring when you're done." 
 
"Hey don't worry about me. I'm a professional." 
 
Jack met Cathy at ten thirty that night and started showing her the  
basics. She proved to be a quick study. If he hadn't known better,  
he would have sworn that she had some boxing experience. After  
leading her through a boxing workout, he took her in the ring for a  
little sparring. As they worked, he couldn't help but to study her  
body. Cathy was wearing a white tank top, no bra. When she started to  
sweat, the flimsy fabric turned almost transparent. Her dark perky  
nipples twitched every time she threw a punch. A hard jab to the face  
brought him back to reality. 
 
"Hey stud, pay attention, you're supposed to be teaching me," Cathy  
said playfully. 
 
"Doesn't look like you need much teaching. You're a natural kid." 
 
"Well thank you kind sir. Am I as good as your sister?" 
 
"That wouldn't be a fair comparison. My sister's been boxing almost  
as long as I have. I don't mind admitting that she's probably better  
than me." 
 
"But how can that be? You were a Golden Gloves champion." 
 
"Yep, and my sister would have been if they had allowed girls to  
compete. When we were kids she used to beat the stuffing out of me  
sometimes. The only reason I ever won was because I was a lot bigger  
than she was. It's a damn shame there's no real women's boxing yet.  
She probably would have been some kind of champion." 
 
"What's she doing now?" 
 
"She just got married a few weeks ago to a boxing trainer she worked  
out with. The whole family flew out to Las Vegas for the wedding.  
They were talking about coming back here and opening a gym together.  
I can tell you she still hits hard. She gave me a little shot at  
the reception that made me spit my drink out." 
 
"Hmmm. A female boxer marrying her handsome young trainer. What are  
the odds," Cathy said with a wink. 
 
"Why don't we find out?" 
 
"Meet me here, Friday night at eight, and we'll find out." 
 
The next two weeks were a dream come true for Jack. Cathy was  
incredible. He now knew why Sharon's husband Bob looked so damned  
happy all the time. And best of all, she loved boxing. All she  
wanted to talk about was how his father had trained him. She was  
also fascinated with stories about his sister and her various fights.  
Couldn't blame her. There weren't many women around like Sharon. At  
their next workout, she made a request which he had been expecting. 
 
"Hey Jack, how about we try going a few rounds for real? Just like  
you used to do with your sister." 
 
"Well ordinarily, I don't get into that for a few more weeks yet,  
but I've never had a student like you before. I think you're ready.  
I'll set the timer. Just let me know when you want to stop." 
 
Cathy smiled like a shark, "Don't worry, you'll know when I'm done." 
 
The round started off quickly. Jack hit her with several jabs which  
didn't bother her at all. She responded with a few skillful counters  
that got by his guard. Damn she learned fast. Towards the end of the  
round, he hit her with a big right hand that connected solidly with  
her forehead. He stopped for a second. 
 
"You OK Cathy? I didn't hurt you did I?" 
 
Cathy gave him a thumbs up, "Don't worry Jack, I'm tougher than I  
look." 
 
And you look pretty tough, Jack was thinking. 
 
The second round started off even faster. Cathy  matched him  
punch for punch. At the end of the round, he was too busy trying to  
protect himself to go on the offensive. 
 
After the bell sounded, he said, "Come on Cathy, take it easy. You're  
not going for the title here." 
 
"I'll tell you what Jack. One more round. If I win, I get your  
trophy. If you win, you get my trophy." 
 
"What trophy do you have?" Jack asked in a puzzled tone. 
 
"This trophy," Cathy replied, peeling her top off to expose her  
glistening torso. 
 
Jack drew his breath in at the sight. 
 
"OK Cathy. But I've got to warn you, for a trophy like that, I won't  
hold back." 
 
Cathy smiled again, "Neither will I." 
 
The bell for the third round sounded. Jack cautiously circled his  
amazon opponent. She flexed her pects at him making her tits jump   
up and down. He was mesmerized by the display. Her tits jumped  
one last time as she darted in with a right hand that smashed his  
jaw. He was dazed for a few seconds. Cathy followed up with a number  
of punches to his unprotected head. He tried to cover up, and she  
turned her attention to his body. Her fists hammered his midsection.  
He felt his ribs breaking. 
 
"Jesus Cathy, cut it out. I quit." 
 
Cathy didn't stop as she replied, "Don't worry, I'll be finished in a  
minute. Say hello to your sister for me when you wake up." 
 
Jack didn't know what the hell was going on, but he did realize that  
he was now seeing the real Cathy. He desperately tried to wrap her up  
with his arms, but Cathy was too strong. Her short chopping punches  
continued to tear his gut apart. With a vicious head butt, she  
knocked him off of her. He was helpless now as her fists worked his  
head like a speedbag. Finally, he went down. But she wasn't satisfied  
with that. As he pitched forward, she brought her knee up into his  
face breaking his cheekbone. 
 
Looking down at her unconscious opponent, Cathy said, "Looks like I  
get your trophy." 
 
Cathy climbed through the ropes and walked over to the big glass  
display case. 
 
"Lets see now. I don't have a key for this case. Perhaps I could  
break it with one of these dumbbells. But there's no reason to risk  
harming perfectly good exercise equipment. Ah, I know what I can 
use." 
 
Cathy walked back to the ring. Grabbing one of Jack's arms, she  
dragged him out and hoisted him up on her shoulder. Jack began to  
stir as she sprinted towards the case. Jack saw the glass rushing  
towards him as he looked up. 
 
"No Cathy, don't!" 
 
When she was five feet away, she stopped and send him flying  
upside-down into the case. Glass shattered as his naked back crashed  
through and cracked against the shelves. He landed head first on the  
hardwood floor and lay still. His skin was covered with lacerations.  
Cathy stepped over his lifeless body and secured her prize. 
 
"Always wanted one of these," Cathy noted as she examined her golden  
bauble. 
 
 
 
 
Lori got off the plane in Vegas and was met by Harry James's  
limousine. 
 
He greeted her as she got in, "Good to see you back Lori. Have a  
good trip?" 
 
Lori unzipped her travel bag and picked up the trophy. 
 
"Great trip. Got everything we wanted." 
 
"Excellent! That should push Sharon right over the edge." 
 
Lori nodded back, "A distracted fighter's easy to beat." 
 
 
 
Sharon was having a great time on her honeymoon. Plenty of sand,  
sea, and sun to enjoy while she waited for Bob to recharge his  
batteries. Poor dear was exhausted. As she entered the lobby of  
their hotel, the counterman gave her a message. She frowned as she  
read it. Her youngest brother Jack had been involved in some sort of  
accident. Rushing back to her room, she called the hospital. Jack's  
doctor informed her that he had been assaulted down at the youth  
center while working late one night. A gang had broken in and beat  
him badly. His back was broken. Fortunately, there didn't appear to  
be any damage to his spinal chord. He agreed to patch her through to  
his room. 
 
"Jack, it's Sharon. Are you Ok?" 
 
"Sharon, thank God you got my message. I'll be here for a while, but  
I should be fine. It's you I'm worried about." 
 
"Me? What has this got to do with me?" 
 
"Listen Sharon, I lied to the doctors. There was no gang. I was beat  
by a woman. Beaten in the ring." 
 
"Jesus Jack, that would be almost funny if you weren't hurt so  
badly." 
 
"Listen Sharon, her name was Cathy Jones. She was taking lessons  
from me. But she wasn't what she seemed. She was some kind of  
fighter. Maybe a pro." 
 
Sharon frowned thoughtfully at that last statement. 
 
"How am I involved?" 
 
"We were together for two weeks. Looking back on it, I can see that  
she was pumping me for information about you. Just before she took  
me out, she told me to say hello to you. I could tell she wasn't  
kidding, you're going to be running into her someday." 
 
"What did she look like?" 
 
"You should see her coming a mile away. She's a huge bodybuilder. A  
little shorter than you, but just as heavy. She's also a good  
looking brunette. Watch out, she's a mean fighter." 
 
"Thanks Jack. I don't recognize her, but I'll be on the lookout." 
 
"Maybe you stole her boyfriend in high school and she's been holding  
a grudge." 
 
Sharon managed a chuckle, "Yeah, maybe. Thanks for the warning. You  
leave those nurses alone and get some rest." 
 
Bob came out of the shower and saw Sharon sitting on the bed with a  
serious look on her face. She related the tale to him. 
 
"Have you ever heard of this woman Cathy Jones? Is she on the  
circuit?" 
 
"There's only a couple of women fighting on the circuit, and all of  
them are locals. None of them match the description. But the Board's  
been looking for a female competitor to fight you. She could be new." 
 
"If she's on the circuit, would the Board have anything to do with  
the attack on my brother?" 
 
Bob thought for a moment, "No, the board would never sanction an  
action like that. Mind you, they wouldn't stop it either. Not unless  
it interfered with the business or the sport." 
 
"Then this bitch is probably acting on her own. God help her when I  
get my hands on her." 
 
Bob nodded. He had seen what Sharon could do to a man when she put  
her mind to it. A week later, Sharon and Bob returned to Vegas. When  
they arrived, Bob contacted the Board to arrange Sharon's last fight. 
While she was taking a break at the circuits gym, he gave her the  
news. 
 
"Sharon, I just got off the phone with the Board. They have a  
mystery opponent for you next week, a woman named Lori. She's never  
fought on the circuit before. The only thing I could find out was  
that she ripped up Bruno and Benny a couple of weeks ago. Evidently,  
the board was impressed enough to let her have a title shot." 
 
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking." 
 
"Make book on it. The description fits, and her manager is James.  
That fucking weasel would have his own mother beat up for a buck.  
I'm also a little bit worried. The Board offered to pay us twice as  
much as your last fight. When they put up that kind of money, they  
expect to get it back in blood." 
 
Sharon flexed her strong hands into fists making her tendons  
crackle. "Don't complain. I was going to fight her for free." 
 
 
Sharon trained hard that week. The night of the fight, she was wound  
like a spring. Mark drove her to the parking lot of the small  
private arena an hour before the fight. He parked his classic  
Oldsmobile in a spot reserved for them. As they headed for the back  
entrance, a limo pulled up and started to discharge James and his  
entourage. The last person out of the limo was Lori. When Sharon saw  
her, she went right for her. Oh shit, Bob thought. Lori calmly stood  
her ground. 
 
Sticking out her hand, Lori put on a friendly smile. "You must be  
Sharon. I've been looking forward to meeting you. I've heard so much  
about you." 
 
Sharon slapped the proffered hand aside. "Yeah, my brother talks too  
much." 
 
"Why, whatever do you mean?" 
 
"You know what I mean, you fucking bitch. When I'm finished with  
you, I'm going to have you stuffed, mounted, and delivered to his  
hospital room with a red ribbon." 
 
Lori reached into her bag. "Come on now Sharon. There's really no  
reason for bad blood between us. I even brought you a present." 
 
Lori pulled the Golden Gloves trophy out of her bag and proudly  
posed with it. Sharon went nuts and lunged for her. Lori crouched  
and rammed the trophy right into Sharon's bread basket. Sharon  
doubled over with a "Woof" and dropped to the concrete. 
 
"What's the matter Sharon? Is it something you ate?" said Lori  
showing false concern. 
 
Bob rushed to Sharon's side and put his arm around her shoulders. 
 
"Come on Sharon. This isn't the time or the place." 
 
Sharon overcame the pain in her stomach and made an upward lunge  
towards Lori. Lori didn't budge. She just crowned Sharon on top of  
the head with the base of the trophy. Sharon dropped back to the  
oily concrete holding her head and moaning. Bob finally couldn't  
take it anymore. He started to make a lunge of his own, but Lori  
stopped him short by raising the trophy in a threatening manner. 
 
"Jesus, your children are going to be stupid," Lori observed. 
 
Lori disappeared into the doorway with her manager. Bob helped  
Sharon up. 
 
"Are you going to be OK Sharon?" 
 
"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm just afraid that I won't be able to collect  
everything that bitch owes me in one fight." 
 
Sharon and Bob went to her private dressing room. Bob got Sharon an  
ice bag to put on the lump on her head while she rested up. A half  
hour before fight time, Bob started to prepare Sharon. First she got  
dressed in her boxing uniform. A short, tight pair of red and white  
silk boxing shorts with a pair of white socks and boots. Next, Bob  
expertly taped her fists and wrists. He had never done it before,  
but this time he purposely altered the tape pattern to leave the  
surface a little rough. He then applied a light coat of oil to her  
naked upper body. Bob frowned as he noticed Sharon wincing when he  
reached the bruise left by the trophy. Next he applied a little  
vaseline went around her eyebrows, cheekbones, and other thin  
skinned areas where cuts usually started. Finally, Sharon snorted a  
huge dose of decongestant spray into each sinus to ensure that she  
wouldn't have any trouble breathing with her mouthpiece in. With ten  
minutes left, Bob put on a pair of mitts and let her warm up by  
hitting his hands. 
 
"Any last minute advice lover?" 
 
"Watch yourself out there Sharon. Lori's an unknown quantity. I  
tried to find out what I could, but evidently she's done most of her  
fighting in private. She has a history of pulling stunts like she  
did with your brother. She's probably as strong as you. You have a  
slight reach advantage. Use it. I can't imagine she's a better  
boxer. Obviously she went after your brother to piss you off." 
 
"Well, she did a good job of that." 
 
"Just keep your cool out there and box her. She wants you mad. She  
doesn't want you thinking. Just remember what happened in the  
parking lot. You can't let her get to you." 
 
"I'll try, but it'll be tough. I'm madder now than when I found out  
about that asshole drugging me before the Chicago championship  
match. Its worse when somebody fucks with your family." 
 
Bob just nodded. There was really nothing left to say. Sharon could  
be a hothead. He just hoped she wouldn't lose it in the ring. 
 
The small crowd buzzed with anticipation. Seats for the fight had  
sold out within a day of the announcement at twenty five thousand  
each. Patrons could also receive the fight on the Board's private  
satellite channel for a mere ten thousand. But the real revenue was  
derived from gambling. Sharon was a two to one favorite. Literally  
hundreds of millions would change hands tonight with the Board  
taking a large percentage.  
 
Sharon scanned the ring area as she waited to be announced. The six  
sided ring waited for the combatants. The canvas was clean and new.  
At the end of the night it would be covered with blood and sweat.  
Some of the ringside patrons would enjoy the same treatment. 
 
The rules of tonight's fight were simple. The fight resembled a  
traditional boxing match with three minute rounds followed by one  
minute breaks. A fighter would be declared out with a twenty count. A  
fighter could not be saved by the bell. And of course, a fight had  
to end with a knockout. Fighters could use bare knuckles, taped fists,  
or unpadded leather gloves. The rules were designed to promote a  
brutal spectacle which would leave no doubt about the winner. The  
rules suited Sharon just fine. 
 
The announcer climbed into the center of the ring and spoke into a  
small microphone. 
 
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Board is proud to present a very special  
event. Tonight, two women will fight to decide the only true world  
boxing championship. Introducing the challenger, at five feet nine  
inches, and one hundred and sixty eight pounds, in her debut circuit  
match, Lori Jones." 
 
The crowd went wild as Lori climbed into the ring. She flexed her  
seventeen inch biceps for them as she strutted around the ring. She  
wore a gray pair of tight fitting spandex shorts and white boots. A  
thin film of perspiration had formed on her chest making her breasts  
gleam under the bright lights. 
 
"And introducing the current circuit champion, standing five feet  
eleven inches tall, and weighting one hundred and seventy one pounds,  
with an undefeated record of twenty seven wins, no losses, Sharon  
Moore." 
 
Sharon got a thundering response from the crowd as she shed her robe  
and leaped into the ring. Her island tan made her look better than  
ever as she waved to the crowd. It was clear that she hadn't slacked  
off on her training during her recent honeymoon. Sharon had started  
every day with a two mile swim followed by a lap around the small  
island. The hotel maintained a small, but well equipped gym which she  
had used in the afternoon. Bob wouldn't have claimed to be able to  
go two rounds with her, but they would occasionally put on the  
gloves in their room and do a little sparring to keep her sharp. As  
a result, she looked hard and ready with sixteen and a half inch  
biceps. Her C-cup breasts with their fingertip sized nipples  
revealed her excitement. 
 
The first round started slowly. Both fighters seemed content to feel  
each other out. Sharon used her longer reach to score several jabs to  
Lori's face. One particularly good hit opened a small cut above her  
left eye. Lori tried to respond, but Sharon managed to keep her  
distance. At the end of the round, Bob was relieved. 
 
"Good going Sharon. The bitch isn't nearly as good a boxer. If you  
keep it up, she'll be hamburger in five." 
 
Round two started off the same way. Sharon continued to frustrate  
Lori with her superior skill. It wasn't that Lori wasn't an  
excellent boxer, but Sharon was the best. Midway through the round  
Lori decided to test Sharon. Ignoring defense, she stepped in and  
hooked her right into Sharon's washboard stomach. Sharon absorbed  
the full force of the blow without flinching. She then countered  
with a right cross to the jaw which staggered Lori. Lori tried to  
cover up and regain her senses. Sharon took the opportunity to test  
Lori's gut. Three hard shots ripped into her side. Lori's face  
twisted with pain as each punch landed. Lori spent the rest of the  
round dancing around the ring trying to avoid getting caught again. 
 
Back in her corner, Sharon was pleased. Lori was one tough bitch,  
but not tough enough. She wouldn't survive much longer. 
 
Lori was upset. She had never met a fighter like Sharon. Many times  
in the past she had invited the strongest guys in the gym to trade  
gut punches with her. The results had always been the same. She  
would laugh at their pathetic attempt, and then double them over with  
a shot that turned their well trained abs to jelly. But Sharon had  
taken one of her best shots without reacting. And worse, Sharon's  
punches had hurt like hell. If she didn't turn the tables quickly,  
she would be in trouble. 
 
Sharon charged across the ring at the start of round three and  
started to pummel Lori. Lori couldn't take it anymore. Better to go  
out with a bang than a whimper. Putting her head down, she started  
forward swinging. Sharon easily avoided most of the blows and made  
her pay for trying. But one punch landed in exactly the same spot  
that the trophy had connected with earlier. Sharon winced in agony  
and dropped her guard slightly. Lori took advantage of the opening  
and landed a roundhouse on her ear. Sharon tried to back off, but  
misjudged her position and ended up in a corner. Lori followed  
closely looking for another opening, but Sharon knew how to defend  
herself. After trying to get through her guard, Lori decided to make  
her own opening. 
 
"Hey Sharon, I trapped your brother in a corner. He blubbered like a  
baby and begged for mercy just before I broke his back." 
 
The effect was immediate. Sharon foolishly tried smash her with a  
straight right. Even though she was expecting it, Lori barely  
managed to dodge to the side and connect with a crippling punch to  
the ribs. An enraged Sharon twisted around with a roundhouse left.  
Lori ducked and sent a fist crashing into her kidneys. Sharon  
stiffened as if she had been jabbed by a cattle prod. Lori  
straightened up and nailed Sharon's jaw with her rock hard fist.  
Sharon dropped to the canvas. 
 
"Come on Sharon, get up. Your brother lasted longer. You should have  
seen him, he shit himself when I tossed him through that glass.  
There he was, lying in a puddle of blood and shit when I stepped  
over his body and took his trophy." 
 
Sharon should have taken advantage of the long count. She should  
have waited to regain her senses. But at the count of eight, she  
leapt to her feet and made an unsteady lunge at Lori. Sharon got  
within three feet before Lori unleashed a right which broke her  
nose. A left snapped her head to one side, and a right put her down  
again. 
 
"Come on Sharon. I thought you were supposed to be some kind of  
bad ass bitch. Get up and show me what you've got. Or does bleeding  
on the canvas run in the family?" 
 
This time Sharon didn't even hear Lori's insults. She struggled to  
get up, then collapsed back on her face. The count had gotten to  
fifteen before she summoned the strength to try again. More by  
instinct than conscious thought, she got to her feet. The lights were  
spinning around her head. Before Lori could get over and finish her,  
the bell sounded. 
 
"Next round, you'll wish you could trade places with your brother." 
 
Bob grabbed Sharon and guided her onto her stool. He tried to  
divorce himself from his feelings as he expertly evaluated the  
damage. Sharon's nose was broken and her ear was bleeding. Her upper  
lip was split and her right eye was swelling seriously. But what Bob  
was really worried about was the spot where Lori had hit her with  
the trophy. He had suspected that Sharon had been hurt worse than  
she let on. Gently prodding with his fingers, he explored the area.  
Sharon gasped when he touched her about two inches above her belly  
button. Damn, at the very least her abs were seriously bruised. He  
hoped that she hadn't suffered any additional damage to her internal  
organs. Working quickly, he applied a cold compress to the swollen  
areas and worked to close her wounds. In a circuit fight there was  
no concept of "throwing in the towel". He would just have to do his  
best, and rely on Sharon's amazing conditioning and will to see her  
through. 
 
Round four started off rough and got worse for Sharon. Lori sent her  
down in the first ten seconds. After Sharon got up, Lori decided  
that it was time to play. Launching a straight left, she smacked  
Sharon's right breast. A right uppercut sent her left tit flying  
upward. Sharon felt like it had been ripped off. Dropping her hands,  
she tried to cover up. Lori connected with a jab to her broken nose.  
A right hook sent a tit wrapping under her armpit. A left bruised  
her ribs. Lori spent the rest of the round alternating between  
Sharon's tits and face. She couldn't protect both at the same time,  
and Lori enjoyed making her choose. The crowd seemed almost  
as relieved as Sharon at the end of the round. 
 
Bob grabbed his kit and started to work on Sharon's face. She was  
covered with blood, but he was relieved to see that the wounds were  
still fairly superficial. 
 
"How are you doing Sharon?" Bob asked in a concerned voice. 
 
"Better than I look. The bitch made a big mistake. She should have  
finished me when she had the chance. Instead, she spent the last  
round playing with my tits. It hurts like hell, but I've taken  
worse. Next round, she's got a surprise coming." 
 
Lori started the round with a few more tit shots. They were  
beginning to redden and swell quite nicely. If Sharon lasted long  
enough, maybe she could split one like an orange. Maybe not, but it  
would be fun to try. With a vicious uppercut, she tried to burst  
Sharon's left tit like a water balloon. At the last instant, Sharon  
stepped back to avoid the blow. Crouching low she ripped a punch  
into Lori's thin lower abs. Lori hadn't been ready for it, and the  
punch penetrated to her spine. Throwing some more body shots, she  
splintered Lori's ribs and sent her tumbling to the canvas. 
 
"Get up you fucking bitch. I thought you were going to show me what  
you did to my brother." 
 
Lori made it to her feet at the count of eighteen. Sharon waded in.  
With a minute to go in the round, she drove her into a corner. 
 
"So you like to play with other women's tits? Let me try that." 
 
Sharon reached back and delivered a punch so hard that it not only  
ripped up the connective tissue in her breast, it cracked the  
ribcage beneath. Drawing back her left, she sent it rocketing into  
the other breast. Another dozen cruel punches capped off the round.  
Not making the same mistake as Lori, Sharon put her on the canvas  
with a punch to the face which left her to crawl back to her corner  
after the bell. 
 
"Way to go Sharon, you've got the bitch beat now." 
 
"Not yet. I've barely made up for what she's done to me. Now it's  
time to pay her back for my brother." 
 
To her credit, Lori did try. Her massive muscles swelled and her  
chest heaved as she swung wildly at Sharon. Sharon displayed her  
boxing skill by making her miss time after time. Eventually Lori ran  
out of steam. Sharon stepped up to her, put her hands on her sweaty  
breasts, and shoved her. 
 
"Back in your corner bitch." 
 
Sharon punctuated her command with a punch that broke Lori's nose.  
Stepping back, Sharon observed her handiwork. Lori's face was a  
bloody mess. Her body was red and covered with bruises. Her sweaty  
breasts were red and sagging. Taking careful aim, she unleashed  
an uppercut similar to that which Lori had intended for her. Her  
rock hard right fist connected with Lori's swollen left tit where it  
met her meaty pect muscle. Lori's tit literally exploded in a spray  
of blood and fatty tissue as the hundred mile an hour punch tore  
through it. Some of the more squeamish patrons turned away from  
the sight. Lori screamed as she looked down to see the limp bag of  
ripped skin that had once been one of her firm breasts. 
 
"Shut the fuck up bitch and take your medicine." 
 
A roundhouse right ensured that Lori wouldn't be making any more  
noise as her jaw shattered with a crack. An uppercut to the stomach  
doubled her over. Lori would have pitched forward on the canvas  
right then for the twenty count, but Sharon wasn't finished. With  
her hands blurring, she pummeled Lori's ribs and gut with dozens of  
punches that kept Lori propped up in the corner against her will.  
Lori's chest and remaining tit were turned to pulp under the savage  
onslaught. With a final punch over the heart, she let Lori fall to  
the canvas. Sharon stood for a second staring at her fallen  
opponent. Lori was gagging on the canvas, and blood was bubbling out  
of her mouth and nostrils. After a few seconds of stunned silence,  
the crowd burst into wild applause, and Sharon raised her hands in  
victory. 
 
 
 
Making her way back to the dressing rooms, Sharon stopped in Lori's  
room to retrieve her brothers trophy. Bob met her back in their room. 
 
"They had Lori carted off in a private ambulance. She might not make  
it." 
 
"She doesn't deserve to make it. But don't worry, I'll see that  
she gets the proper attention." 
 
 
 
Back in his hospital room, Jack got a call from Sharon. 
 
"How are you doing Jack? Hope you're feeling better." 
 
"Doctors say I'm doing fine. I should be released in a few more  
weeks. They say that I'll recover fully. But I'm going nuts stuck  
here in this room. How are you doing? You didn't run into Cathy yet  
did you?" 
 
"As a matter of fact I did. We had some minor differences which we  
resolved. By the way, I had a couple of presents delivered. Buzz  
your nurse." 
 
Jack buzzed his nurse. Sharon had been kind enough to hire him a  
private nurse to tend to his needs while he recovered. The pretty  
young blonde came in carrying a box which she handed to him. Opening  
it, he found his trophy. 
 
"Holy shit, how'd you get it back Sharon?" 
 
"Ask the nurse to show you your second present." 
 
Jack asked, and the nurse drew back the divider curtain to reveal a  
new roommate. Cathy/Lori lay in the bed next to his. Her face was  
covered in bandages. Tubes ran into her mouth and nose. Her torso  
was encased in a body cast. Attached to her chest was a big red  
bow. 
 
"Gee sis, just what I wanted. Hoped it wasn't any trouble." 
 
"Hey, for my brother? No trouble at all." 
 
 
 
Trapped in her bed, her jaw wired shut, a big fucking red bow in  
front of her face, Lori lay. Sharon's brother and his blonde nurse  
were laughing and taking turns flicking peas at her with a spoon.  
All she could do was think. And her only thoughts were of revenge. 
She would recover. She would build herself back to the point where  
she could put her fist through a brick wall. Then she would find  
Sharon and make her pay with her life. A pea bounced off the side of  
her face. Her brother would also pay. 
 
 
           THE PRIZEFIGHT IV: POLICE WOMAN'S REVENGE 
           ----------------------------------------- 
 
Susan Kelly had wanted to be a police officer from when she was a  
little girl. So when she was nineteen years old she applied to her  
local police force. It was the late seventies, and though the  
department didn't have any rules against female officers, it did  
maintain a five foot ten inch height requirement. Since Sue was five  
ten and a half, and able to pass all of the other requirements, she  
became the first woman to go through the small city academy. 
 
Being the first woman at the academy, she encountered a lot of  
resistance. Being tall and thin with double-D's and blonde hair  
didn't help. A lot of men wanted her to fail, but none as badly as  
Officer Baily. Baily was the academy's hand to hand combat  
instructor, a hard looking thirty five year old former marine drill  
sargeant who knew every dirty trick in the book. He was also a staunch  
male chauvinist. The first time she met him, Baily called her in  
front of the class and nearly broke her arms demonstrating a number  
of restraining techniques. Nothing she did was good enough for him.  
He rode her constantly, making her do pushups and laps until she was  
ready to collapse. Constantly yelling in her ear to quit. But the  
worst was the boxing. 
 
Every few days, Baily paired the cadets off for boxing practice.  
There were three cadets who were particularly close to Baily. Hall,  
Reese, and Conner were the teachers pets. The first day of boxing,  
Baily took Conner aside for a little chat. He then paired him off  
with her. Sue had never been in a real fight in her life. Conner  
beat her like a dog. She was knocked down five times. Finally she  
couldn't get up anymore. Baily rushed over to berate her. 
 
"What the hell's the matter with you Kelly. Get up. What if your  
partner was in danger? Would you just lie there and get him killed?  
Do your partner a failure and quit!" 
 
Sue just lay there, crying and bleeding, but she didn't quit. Every  
time boxing practice rolled around, Baily would pair her with one of  
his pets for an ass kicking. Of the three, Conner was the worst, he  
was a genuine sadist. One of his favorite targets were her big tits.  
He used to hit them so hard that they often popped out of her bra  
under her T-shirt. At night she used to have to ice her bruised and  
swollen mammaries just to get to sleep. Everyone knew what was going  
on, but nobody said anything, least of all Sue. She was determined  
to finish. She wouldn't let Baily have the satisfaction of making  
her quit. 
 
At the end of her ten week ordeal, lay the final exams. Written  
exams on various aspects of police procedure and the law. Practical  
exams in firearms, physical fitness, and hand to hand combat. Sue  
passed all of the tests easily. That was, all except hand to hand.  
Originally, the hand to hand test consisted of the cadets showing  
mastery of basic police techniques. At the last minute Baily changed  
it to, of course, boxing. Each cadet was supposed to face three  
other cadets for a round of boxing each. To pass, the cadet must  
survive all three rounds. When it was Sue's turn, she wasn't  
surprised that she had to face Hall, Reese, and Conner. Only nine  
minutes of boxing separated Sue from her dream, and by God, she was  
going to make it. Hall and Reese both tried as hard as they could to  
put her down, but if Baily's boxing classes had taught her nothing  
else, she had learned to take a few punches. Finally, nothing stood  
between her and graduation but Conner. Sue smiled in anticipation of  
the match. She knew she couldn't win, but she knew she could last  
another three minutes. And if she got the chance, she was going to  
break Conner's Goddamned nose. 
 
Squaring off with Conner on the mat, they touched gloves. Conner was  
smiling at her as he led off with a roundhouse right to the side of  
her head. Sue crouched, protecting her face with her gloves. Conner's  
punch caught her on the top of her head. It shouldn't have had any  
effect, but the blow staggered her. Conner followed up with a left  
to her thin waist. Despite the fact that she was tensed to take the  
punch, it doubled her over. An uppercut to the face put her down. 
 
"Come on bitch, get up. We've still got another two minutes to play  
before I have to say good-bye," Conner taunted. 
 
As Sue got back on her feet, she realized what was going on.  
Conner's regulation looking sixteen ounce gloves were hard as rocks.  
Baily wasn't taking any chances with her. Sue managed to slip half a  
dozen more punches, while trying to hold Conner off with her weak  
jab. But he ignored her attempts at offense and forced his way  
inside. Using his doctored gloves, he started to pulp her tits with  
major bodyshots. Lowering her arms to protect herself just gave him  
the chance to do a little more damage to her face. With a minute to  
go, Conner launched a left-right combination which sent her tumbling  
to the mat. Baily rushed over. 
 
"Get up Kelly. If you don't finish on your feet you fail," Baily  
yelled. 
 
She got up again. All she could do was cover up and hope for the  
best. But with thirty seconds to go, Conner managed to drive an  
uppercut between her arms into her chin. Blacking out for a second,  
she collapsed on all fours. Again Baily was in her face. 
 
"Fifteen seconds cadet, get up or fail!" 
 
With a monumental effort of will, Sue got to one knee and began to  
stand. But before she could get up, Conner rushed over and drove his  
right hand into her unprotected face. Susan was knocked onto her  
back. She tried to get up, but her badly scrambled brain couldn't  
control her body. Her last memory before she lost consciousness, was  
of Baily leaning over her. 
 
"Cadet Kelly, you have failed your final exam. Now get your ass out  
of my academy, and don't let me ever see you again." 
 
After Sue had been patched up by the academy's doctor, she snuck  
into Baily's office and found Conner's gloves hidden in his desk  
drawer. She took them back to her room where she had been packing  
her bags. Examining the gloves, she noticed that the padded area had  
been cut open. Popping a few crude stitches, she discovered that  
some small lead ingots had been shaped and stuffed between the  
horse hair padding and the outer leather surface. Sue could have  
complained, she could have sued, but that was not her way. Tossing  
the gloves into her suitcase, she closed the lid and quietly left. 
 
Twelve years later, the city had grown. To keep up with the demand  
for new police, the academy had also expanded. Baily was still  
there with a second combat instructor, and the academy was hiring a  
third. When Baily found out it was a woman, he exploded. 
 
"Jesus H., what the hell is this force coming to. Women training  
woman in hand to hand. Are they going use PMS to apprehend suspects?" 
 
"Actually, I was planning on teaching the women how to box." 
 
The two male instructors looked to the door where the new instructor  
was standing. She was dressed as they were, in shorts and a yellow  
instructors T-shirt. She was a tall Nordic looking blonde in her  
late twenties or early thirties. Her exposed quadriceps showed that  
she was no stranger to weights, and the baggy T-shirt couldn't hide  
her D-cup breasts. 
 
"Boxing, what the hell do you know about boxing," sneered Baily. 
 
"Why don't you try me and find out." 
 
"Anytime, anywhere," retorted Baily. 
 
After a few tense days, Baily couldn't take it anymore. The new  
bitch was acting as if she owned the place. He was the senior  
instructor, and she was by God going to hear about it. Catching up  
with her after the last class was dismissed, he stopped her in the  
hall. 
 
"You need a major attitude adjustment Kelly. I'm the senior  
instructor around here, and I dictate what goes and what doesn't." 
 
"If you have a problem with me, lets settle it like men." 
 
"You fucking bitch, you're going to regret that you made me that  
offer. I'll meet you tonight in the gym at Ten. That is, if YOU'RE  
man enough." 
 
That night, Baily unlocked the door and went into the gym. Viewing  
the darkened interior, he smiled. That chicken shit bitch hadn't  
shown up. Too bad, he really would have liked to have kicked her ass.  
As he turned to leave, he nearly bumped into Conner. 
 
"Conner, what the fuck are you doing here?" 
 
"I got a message at the precinct to meet you here." 
 
"Well I didn't send you any messages." 
 
"I invited him." 
 
The lights came on in the darkened gym. Baily and Conner wheeled to  
face Kelly. She was standing on the other side of the gym wearing a  
silk robe. Between them, lying on the center mat were two pairs of  
boxing gloves. Sue shed her robe and started towards them. 
 
Baily examined her as she approached. Kelly was wearing a tight  
fitting white tank top and blue gym shorts. She was more muscular  
than he had thought, packing about one hundred and fifty pounds on  
her well toned frame. But he wasn't worried. Some of his chest hairs  
might have turned gray, but he was still strong as a bull. His six  
foot tall body still weighed the same rock hard one ninety that he  
had been in the corps. 
 
By the time they reached the center of the gym, Kelly had her gloves  
on. Picking up the remaining pair, Baily noticed that they were  
unusually heavy. 
 
"What the fuck." 
 
Examining them closer, he noticed that they had been tampered with.  
Sue started to smack her gloved fists together. 
 
"Do you remember those gloves? Do you remember me? Sue Kelly, the  
first female cadet in here." 
 
Recognition flooded Baily's face. "Sue Kelly, the first female failure  
from the academy, but not the last. I saw to that. So you've come  
back for more." 
 
"I've come back to re-take my exam. There was a problem the first  
time. The gloves weren't equal. Now they are. You remember the exam.  
Three rounds. Starting now. I'll start with Conner, if he's up for  
it." 
 
Conner had a smile on his face. "I can't tell you how much I  
missed this. I would have paid to do it." 
 
"Don't worry, you will pay." 
 
Baily tossed Conner the gloves. "Go get her boy." 
 
Conner stripped off his uniform and donned the gloves. He rolled his  
shoulders and flexed a bit at Kelly. He hadn't let himself go to  
seed like many of his fellow officers. He was seriously into  
bodybuilding, and it showed. He was at his offseason weight of two  
hundred and forty pounds. When he was ready, he signaled Baily to  
start the round. 
 
Conner came out swinging. Sue easily avoided his clumsy attacks with  
her superior boxing skills. A minute into the round, Sue went on the  
offensive. Dodging a big right hand, she came up with a straight  
left to the side of Conner's face. As he turned to face her, he was  
caught with a left jab that broke his nose. He backed up for a  
second and saw his own blood dripping onto the mat. 
 
"You fucking bitch!" Conner bellowed as he charged her. 
 
Sue waited until he was nearly on top of her, sidestepped, and  
rammed her hardened glove into his hairy belly. Conner tumbled to  
the mat clutching his stomach. Baily was in his face. 
 
"Goddamnit boy, didn't I teach you anything! Get your ass off the  
mat and take this bitch out!" 
 
Conner struggled to his feet and tried to fight. Sue eased up a bit  
and started to punish him like he had punished her. She continued to  
jab at his face, starting some swelling and opening a few cuts. She  
didn't forget his chest either. Turning her attention lower, she  
slammed the extra-heavy gloves into his nipples. 
 
"Well well, looks like you're taking about a B-cup nowadays. Must be  
the steroids." 
 
At the end of the round, he was a mess. His face was battered and  
bleeding, and more importantly, his chest looked like it had been  
pounded by a meat tenderizer. Baily was in his face chewing him out. 
 
Sue felt good, she was standing across the mat waiting for the  
second round. Her body was warmed up now, and she had a sheen of  
perspiration on her skin. Her D-cups swayed from side to side as she  
shifted her weight from foot to foot, impatiently waiting. 
 
Sue had been planning this moment ever since she left the academy.  
After she had left, she moved to New York and applied there. They  
had been accepting women to their academy for many years and were  
glad to have her. While she was in the city, she had devoted all her  
free time to learning the martial arts. She also forced her way into  
a boxing gym as it's first female member. The guys had given her a  
hard time, but after what she had previously been through, it didn't  
even come close to discouraging her. Eventually she had gained  
acceptance as "one of the guys," and they taught her to box like a  
pro. After about ten years, she moved back into her home city and  
joined the force. They were happy to have an experienced policewoman  
from a big city force. After two years, she saw the opportunity she  
had been waiting for. There was a posting for a hand to hand  
instructor down at the academy. A number of officers applied, but  
none had even close to her qualifications. She was given the job,  
and her chance at revenge. 
 
Baily continued talking to Conner and they were both glancing back  
at her. Sue wasn't worried. She was ready for anything these clowns  
could pull. After giving him a final word of advice, Baily shoved  
Conner in her direction at the start of the round. 
 
Sue met him a left jab, a punch to the spleen, and a roundhouse that  
sent him down to the mat. 
 
"Get up asshole, you're making this too easy for me." 
 
"You heard the lady, boy. Get up," Baily chimed in. 
 
Conner got back to his feet and started to circle her, just out of  
her reach. 
 
"What's the matter Conner, scared of a girl?" 
 
Sue saw Conner smile again, but he was looking past her. What!?  
Baily lunged at her from behind and applied a full nelson. She tried  
to heel kick him in the groin, but Conner rushed in and grabbed her  
feet. Sue struggled, but both men were large and strong. She was at  
their mercy. 
 
Conner had managed to grab both of her feet and free one of his  
arms. Hooking his hand between her breasts, he ripped her flimsy  
tank top off with a yank of his massive arm. Sue's breasts danced in  
her bra as she struggled against them. 
 
"Damn, those puppies look better than I remember. Maybe we'll have a  
little fun after I soften them up a bit." 
 
Sue was in a frenzy now, but two right hands from Conner had her  
seeing stars. Conner let go of her feet and went to work. He drove  
his right hand into her belly. Her body wanted to fold, but Baily  
still held her tightly. Next a straight left crashed into her right  
breast. A right uppercut popped her left tit out of it's bra cup.  
Memories of pain and humiliation flooded back, and she started  
screaming. This just made Conner and Baily start laughing.  
 
"Doesn't look like you're going to pass your re-take Kelly. You  
should have stayed away," Baily gloated. 
 
Conner punched her tits as if he was working out on a pair of speed  
bags. The hardened gloves made sick smacking sounds as they bit into  
her soft flesh and threatened to rip her tits out. After making her  
suffer for over a minute, Conner finished her off with a left-right  
combination which nearly took her head off. Baily dropped her to the  
mat. Sue was sobbing and holding her bruised and swollen breasts.  
Conner and Baily were standing over her. 
 
"Too bad, you had a nice rack, but you'd be lucky to get the  
centerfold of National Geographic now," said Conner. 
 
"Come on boy, it's Miller time, and I'm buying." 
 
Conner picked up his shirt, and they started for the door. But  
before they were halfway there, Conner received a pair of savage  
blows to the kidneys which put him on his knees squealing like a  
pig. A punch to the back of head silenced him as he collapsed to the  
floor face first. Sue was standing over the body glaring at Baily. 
 
"You should remember that I don't give up that easily. I believe we  
still have one round to go." 
 
Baily was never one to back down from a challenge. He calmly pulled  
his shirt off and picked up the gloves.  
 
"Conner didn't know shit about boxing. You think you're going to  
beat me with a few fancy moves. I'm going to punch your tits flat  
bitch." 
 
Kelly waited for Baily to move in on her. She tried the jabs that  
had worked earlier against Conner, but Baily just caught them on his  
gloves. He then faked a jab for her head, lunged and caught her  
in the ribs with a right. Sue huffed as the air was knocked out of  
her. Baily wasn't bragging, he was good, but not good enough. Sue  
ducked his follow-up, and straightened up with an uppercut to the  
jaw. Baily's head snapped back. Sue brought her hand back and sent  
it smashing into his mouth. Baily fell backwards on his ass. The  
leaden gloves had started blood flowing from split lips. 
 
"Get up Baily, rounds not over yet." 
 
Baily got back up and raised his gloved hands. Sue accepted the  
invitation, but just as she got into range, Baily twisted and sent a  
booted foot into her midsection. Sue folded on the mat. Baily walked  
around to her side and sent his boot crashing into her sore left  
tit. The force of the kick rolled her onto her back. Baily stood  
next to her and raised his booted foot above her chest. 
 
"Say good-bye to your tits bitch." 
 
Sue barely managed to roll out from under his stomp. Lashing out  
with a leg, she swept him off his feet. Drawing back both feet, she  
sent them flying into the side of his head. Getting back up, she  
took stock of the damage. There wasn't a part of her body that  
wasn't battered from the waist up, but she could take the pain. The  
only thing that really worried her was the pain in her side where  
she had been kicked. No doubt he had cracked a few of her ribs. Baily  
was starting to stir. 
 
"Get up you dickless worm. You've got more to answer for." 
 
Baily got up. Sue waded into him throwing leather. Baily was  
helpless before her fury. Blood was splattering all over the mat  
making it look like the floor of a slaughterhouse. Ripping shots  
into his unprotected body, she heard the satisfying sound of bone  
breaking. Baily tried one last desperate move. Tying up her arms, he  
tried to knee her in the groin. Sue twisted, and the blow thudded  
painfully into her hip bone. Pushing Baily away, she returned the  
favor. Summoning all her strength, she crouched, and sent an  
uppercut between his legs. The leaded gloves cracked the plastic of  
his protective cup and smashed his balls like dropping an iron on a  
pair of plums. Baily fell on his side and curled into a fetal  
position crying. 
 
"Jesus, I think you broke them. You broke my fucking balls." 
 
Sue got on her knees and grabbed his jaw. 
 
Turning his head to face her she said, "Now you have some idea of  
what you put me through twelve years ago. It's just too bad that I  
can't pay you back with interest. Now I want to know how I did on  
the test." 
 
"You fucking bitch, I'm going to kill you." 
 
Sue jammed a glove between his legs and applied some pressure. Baily  
cried out in agony. 
 
Releasing the pressure, she said, "What was that? I must have heard  
you wrong." 
 
Managing to get some breath back, he gasped, "You passed, you made  
the three rounds." 
 
"And who's the better boxer, who lost?" 
 
Baily needed another little squeeze to encourage him to speak. 
 
"You win, you're the better boxer, you kicked my ass, you broke my  
fucking balls," he cried. 
 
"Let me tell you how it's going to be. You're going to resign  
tomorrow. If you don't, I'm going to kick your ass in front of every  
class that comes through here. You know I can, don't you?" 
 
"Y-yes, I'll resign tomorrow. Please call me an ambulance, please." 
 
Sue got up and took off her gloves. Baily curled up a little more as  
she dropped them in his lap. 
 
"I won't be needing these any more. Now it's your turn to keep them  
as a souvenir." 
 
Sue put her robe back on and started towards the door. Conner was  
just getting up. Evidently, he had seen some of what had transpired,  
because he moved to get out of her way. Walking directly towards  
him, she opened her robe to display her battle scarred breasts. 
 
"Touch them. Don't be afraid. Touch them now." 
 
Conner's trembling hands reached out towards her tits. When they  
were an inch away, Sue cut loose with a savage right hand which  
broke a few teeth and sent him back to the floor. 
 
"In your dreams, asshole." 
 
Stepping over his body, she left the gym. Despite the agonizing  
pain, she felt better than she had in twelve years. She had passed  
the test and erased the one black mark on her slate. And kicking the  
shit out of a couple of loud mouthed assholes like Baily and Conner  
just sweetened the deal. 
 
 
 
 
           THE PRIZEFIGHT X: Consolation Prize 
           ----------------------------------- 
 
I was standing in my corner in a boxing ring. My opponent waited  
opposite me for the bell to sound. She was a young beautiful temp  
named Jane who worked in the sales office at the company where I was  
employed as a programmer. Working my corner was Rose, a mid-twenties  
sales rep built like a linebacker with big American breasts. Working  
Jane's corner was Diane, a good looking young blonde who worked as  
my assistant, and the one person I blamed most for my current  
predicament. Worst of all, Samantha was the referee. I had been 
looking for a chance with her from the first moment I saw her. A  
slender girl with chestnut brown hair and a smile which would light  
up a room, I would have done anything for her. How the hell did I get  
myself in this mess? 
 
It had started when my boss had added Diane to his staff. She was  
assigned to help me out with my duties while she learned the ropes.  
Unfortunately, I was Joe Company at the time, and she was just a  
girl who wanted to have fun. Even though we liked each other, there  
was always a bit of friction and competition between us. That  
morning I had been minding my own business passing through the sales  
office on my way to the computer room. As always, I passed by Sam's  
cubicle to say hello. Sam wasn't alone. Diane, Rose, and Jane were  
all hanging around having their morning coffee. When Diane spotted  
me, she smiled and waved me over. I was instantly suspicious. 
 
"Hey JD, we need a man's opinion on something and your the closest  
thing we've got," said Diane. 
 
Sam snickered at the her little joke. 
 
"What's up?" I asked. 
 
"Jane here just took up boxing. She was telling us that within a few  
years women are going to be able to compete with men at the  
professional level. What do you think?" 
 
I looked around at the women for a hint of how to answer such a  
potentially loaded question. Receiving no clue, I decided to answer  
seriously. 
 
"I tend to doubt it. Given a man's superior strength and heavier  
build, I wouldn't think that too many women could be competitive,  
even if they were allowed to try. I think that a woman's champion  
could probably beat some lower ranked men, but that would be the  
exception." 
 
I scanned the girl's faces for their reactions. Sam and Rose were  
looking at Jane. Jane wasn't looking pleased. Diane was looking like  
the cat who swallowed the canary. 
 
"Well I bet Jane could beat you. She's been working out hard lately,  
preparing to fight in some amateur boughts," replied Diane. 
 
"Oh come on now Diane. I've got at least sixty pounds on Jane. It  
wouldn't be fair." 
 
Jane spoke up, "Boxing isn't just about size and strength. It  
requires a lot of skill and stamina as well. Besides, I'm stronger  
than I look." 
 
Jane was wearing a sleeveless blouse. Raising one of her arms, she  
flexed. A well defined bicep leapt to attention. I would have  
never thought that Jane was packing a muscle like that. I was  
impressed. 
 
"Not bad Jane. But it still doesn't make up for the size difference." 
 
Diane jumped in, "Why don't we do a little experiment? How about the  
two of you arm wrestle?" 
 
"Sure, I think I'll be OK, even though I'm just a weak little girl,"  
answered Jane. 
 
Before I had a chance to respond, Diane was pushing me into a chair  
across the table from Jane. Jane raised her arm and I had no choice  
but to accept the challenge. Sam and Rose looked on excitedly as  
Diane positioned our grip. This wasn't difficult because we were  
about the same height. I'm five eleven and Jane's an exceptionally  
tall girl at six feet.  
 
Jane's slender hand felt stronger than I would have guessed. Diane  
shouted "go" and released our hands to start the match. I didn't  
jump on her because I didn't want to be blamed for hurting Jane. But  
as I increased the pressure, I was amazed to find that Jane's arm  
wasn't moving. 
 
Diane didn't waste the opportunity to get in a jab. 
 
"Come on Jerry, you can start now." 
 
Looking at the amazed expression on Sam's face, I suddenly felt  
embarrassed and doubled my efforts. Jane's confident expression  
quickly faded as I started to stretch her bicep out. She struggled  
like an animal as I slowly drove her arm to the table. A sheen of  
perspiration appeared on her forehead as I finally managed to touch  
her hand to the table. God she was strong. Trying to act like  
it hadn't been hard at all, I shook Jane's hand and complemented her  
on her strength. I probably could have walked away at that moment  
without another worry if it hadn't been for Diane. 
 
"What's that I see trickling down the side of your face? Sweating  
are we?" 
 
Pouncing on me, Diane dabbed a finger just under my hairline and  
displayed the evidence of my effort to the assembled girls. 
 
"Looks like you might have strained yourself a bit. Better not try  
boxing her. Jane would probably kill you." 
 
My male hackles were raised at the accusation. 
 
"Hey, I've never boxed in my life. I'm sure that if we were the same  
size, she'd clean my clock. But the fact is, I'm bigger and  
stronger, and like it or not, that counts for something." 
 
"Why don't you drop in at my gym tonight and we'll test that theory?" 
challenged Jane. 
 
"Yeah Jerry, prove it," chimed in Diane. 
 
I was relieved when Rose said, "Hey why don't leave him alone.  
Jerry's got nothing to prove." 
 
But then Sam had to say, "Hey Jerry, if you beat Jane, I'll go out  
with you." 
 
I didn't really want any part of this, but Samantha's offer was to 
good to pass up. Before she could say she was teasing, I accepted. 
 
"OK, you're on." 
 
Jane didn't seem a bit worried as she gave me directions to her gym.  
My head was spinning the rest of the day. What the hell had I got  
myself into? I probably could have gotten to Sam eventually. What  
kind of fucked up situation was I in? I would have liked to back  
down, but I knew that Diane and Jane wouldn't let me. 
 
I arrived at the gym at eight. Jane was showing the girls how she  
used the speed bag. If I had known better, I would have been worried  
at the show she put on. Her hands kept going faster and faster until  
they were a blur. With a final flourish, she left the bag swinging  
with a final right cross. 
 
"On time as always," Diane noted. 
 
"I'm surprised you managed to make it." 
 
"I wouldn't miss this for the world," Diane replied. 
 
Looking around, I noticed that the small one ring gym was empty  
except for us. 
 
"Where is everyone?" 
 
"We got lucky, our teams out at a competition. I would have gone  
with them to watch, but then this came up. The dressing room's over  
there. Why don't you get changed." 
 
 
 
So that's how I found myself in this situation. Women will do it to  
you every time. Jane was looking good in a tank top and shorts. She  
looked a bit like a toned Elle MacPherson. I was dressed in a  
T-shirt and shorts. We were both wearing head protectors and  
oversized gloves. Without much consultation from me, the girls had  
decided on two minute rounds with one minute breaks. There would be  
no round limit. We would box until one of us was knocked out or gave  
up. The way I looked at it, it was a no win situation. If I bailed  
out of the fight, Diane would hold it over me until the day I died.  
If I knocked Jane out, Sam would probably blame me for hurting her.  
I didn't even want to think about what would happen in the unlikely  
event that I lost. 
 
Diane sounded the bell and Jane darted out of her corner. Moving  
quickly on the balls of her feet, she met me on my side of the ring.  
Before I could think, my face was stinging from a pair of jabs. I  
raised my arms to cover my face and was rewarded with a hard right  
to the gut which knocked the wind out of me. Lowering my guard, I  
was met by a straight left to the nose that hurt like hell. I was  
starting to get pissed. A right cross made me forget I was fighting  
a girl. I lashed out with a roundhouse right which she easily  
ducked. Her left crashed painfully into my kidney. I went berserk.  
Wildly throwing lefts and rights, I drove Jane around the ring. But  
she kept slipping my punches. When I did score, it was on her  
gloves. Every once in a while, Jane would come out of her crouch to  
take advantage of my lack of caution. Towards the end of the round,  
she managed to catch me flush on the nose again. As the bell  
sounded, I could feel a trickle of blood. 
 
"You ready to give up Jerry?" Diane asked in a condescending voice. 
 
"How the hell am I supposed to do anything with these gloves? I  
can't win if Jane can hide behind them all night." 
 
Jane was pissed now, "You think you can do better with smaller  
gloves? Fine. Diane, go get us a couple of pairs of those brown  
gloves." 
 
Jane peeled her headgear off as Diane went to get the gloves. I was  
surprised though when she took her top off. She was wearing a tight  
sports bra which tightly squashed her small breasts against her chest  
forming a nice little cleavage.  
 
"I thought you didn't need any protection." 
 
Mirroring her actions, I took off my gloves, headgear, and shirt. I  
felt a bit self conscious standing in front of the girls nearly  
naked. I didn't have a bad body. I was naturally muscular with broad  
shoulders, but I was embarrassed to display the beer gut which I had  
been meaning to deal with for years. Rose helped me put on the  
smaller gloves, which I would later find out were six ounce bag  
gloves. 
 
Diane started round two. I was feeling more confident that I could  
win. I figured that I would take a few shots, but now I would be  
able to use my superior strength to connect with a fight ending  
punch. I was right about taking the shots. Jane fed me knuckle  
sandwich. The thinner gloves made her small fists feel like mallet  
strikes on my face. With a flurry of short punches, I drove her back  
to the ropes. She crouched and held her gloves so that I still  
couldn't hit her face, but the small gloves let me get between her  
elbows into her stomach. Putting my full two hundred pounds into it,  
I drove my right into her navel. My fist crashed onto to her skin  
solidly for the first time. Her whole body was driven six inches  
into the ropes. But as she rebounded, she looked up to show me that  
my punch had no effect. I was too shocked to react as she responded  
with a short left which snapped my head back. A right cross sent me  
crashing to the canvas. Things went black for a second, and then I  
heard Sam counting "three". My head was spinning as I got to my feet  
by the count of six. Jane moved back in and started to jab me in the  
face. She actually had a slightly longer reach than I did, so I had  
no chance of responding. By the time the bell rang, my face was  
red and starting to swell.  
 
Rose tried to help me as I sat gasping in my corner. It hurt like  
hell as she poked my face for serious injuries. But the worst thing  
was the look of concern on Sam's face as she bent over to talk to me. 
 
"You aren't looking too good Jerry, maybe you should quit." 
 
Looking past her concerned face, I could see right down her blouse.  
Her perfect C-cups were swinging three feet in front of my face.  
What else could I say? 
 
"I'm fine. It looks a lot worse than it is." 
 
Sam didn't seem totally convinced, but she left me alone. I was  
already tired by the start of round three. Jane had a thin sheen of  
sweat on her tanned body, but she wasn't even breathing hard. I knew  
that I had one last chance to do anything. As Jane got into range, I  
sprinted forward and rocketed my fists towards her face. She was  
surprised a bit by my attack, and I managed to catch her on the  
forehead with my first punch before she had a chance to raise her  
gloves. My second blow caught her glove and drove it into her face.  
My third caught her painfully on the forearm. But that was all I  
was going to get. Recovering quickly, she backed away from me. I  
pursued her for another thirty seconds, but didn't land another  
solid punch. Finally, I couldn't continue. With over a minute left  
in the round, I was done and we both knew it. I raised my gloves and  
started backing away as Jane lowered hers. A flickering left hand  
herded me into a corner. Knowing what was coming, I tensed my abs.  
Jane's first blow smacked into my stomach with a hollow smack.  
Trapped in the corner, there was no place to hide. Crouched as I  
was, I had a perfect view of Jane's fists and arms as they smashed  
my aching gut. Her muscles and tendons stretched like rubber bands as  
she reached back before releasing each punch. Knowing I couldn't  
take anymore, I tried to hit her with a right. She must have been  
expecting something, because she easily bobbed to the side causing  
me to miss. With a wicked left to the face, she sent me down again.  
 
Sam stood over me counting. If I had been fighting a man in front of  
men, I would have given up a long time ago. But I didn't have that  
option. I struggled to my feet at the count of nine. Before Jane  
could reach me again, the bell sounded. I flopped in my corner.  
Since Jane didn't need any help, Diane was free to visit me. 
 
"What a mess. You don't look so tough. I'll bet I could take you  
myself," Diane said as she flicked some punches in front of my face. 
 
"Go ahead and try," I snapped, still remembering who put me in this  
situation. 
 
"I think I will," Diane replied. 
 
Diane called Sam over into Jane's corner and they had a quick  
consultation. Jane removed her gloves and handed them to Diane. Sam  
returned to the center of the ring and Jane stepped out. I was  
feeling better. Against Jane I had no chance. Now I had an opponent  
who didn't know how to box and whom I wouldn't mind decking. Diane  
was about five seven, one thirty. She played some softball, but  
otherwise was no athlete. 
 
Jane rang the bell for round four. Diane came charging across to my  
corner. Taking out my frustrations on her, I met her with a straight  
right which flipped her onto her back with a bloody nose. Everyone  
looked stunned for a moment. I half expected Diane to break out  
crying. Instead she lay still for a moment. Sam was about to ask her  
if she was OK, but before she could ask, Diane exploded to her feet. 
 
"You asshole, I'm going to kick the shit out of you," she screamed. 
 
Diane started swinging wildly with her fists. I managed to block  
most of her blows with my arms, but some were getting through. A  
wild right hook caught me painfully on the ear ringing my bell. My  
arms dropped for a moment. Diane saw the opportunity and took a  
second to wind up and aim a right for the center of my face. I would  
later learn that Diane led her team in home runs, but I could have  
figured that out by the way she hit me. I stood there stupidly for a  
second giving her the chance to hit me twice more before I pitched 
forward to the canvas. I couldn't move as Diane stood over me yelling 
in my ear. 
 
"Get up JD! I'm not finished yet. Get up you sorry sack of shit!" 
 
Jane jumped through the ropes and pulled Diane away from me as I  
feebly rolled onto my stomach. As I continued to struggle, I saw  
that Jane and Diane were arguing something with Sam. Getting to my  
knees, I crawled to my corner and let Rose help me onto my stool.  
Rose moved in front of me to clean me up a bit. My view of the other  
girls was blocked for a couple of minutes while she worked. When she  
moved aside, I saw either my most erotic fantasy or my worst  
nightmare. Sam was standing across from me wearing the gloves. She  
had shed her blouse and was wearing nothing but a small white lacy  
bra and short skirt. 
 
Looking over at me, Diane said, "Sam wants a turn." 
 
I was going to protest, but the sight of Sam's model perfect body 
combined with my stupor caused me to stand. Jane rang the bell and  
Sam approached me tentatively. Sam was about five eight, one hundred  
ten pounds. She looked uncomfortable as she jabbed me lightly in the  
face with her slender arms. But as she continued to hit me her  
expression changed. She started hitting stronger and faster. I  
raised my arms to protect my face and she switched to my body. Jane  
and Diane hooted with delight. 
 
"Come on Sam, put him down." 
 
"I can't believe you were going to go out with him." 
 
Sam wasn't big or muscular, but she was young and strong, and I was  
on my last legs. I watched helplessly as Sam's delicate wrists  
hooked into my belly. I couldn't help but to notice a small patch of  
wetness forming in her creamy white cleavage as she savagely beat  
me. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her to get her to stop.  
We stood there for a moment. I could feel her round breasts squashed  
against my sweaty chest as I wrapped her naked back with my arms.  
Even under these circumstances, I felt myself getting aroused. But  
Sam wasn't done yet. With a strong shove, she pushed me back onto  
the ropes. Unfortunately, my glove caught on her bra and unhooked  
it. Sam's lovely tits seemed to appreciate their release more than  
she did. They sprang apart and jiggled as only twenty two year old  
breasts can. Her nipples were incredible. They were pink and hard,  
and protruded nearly an inch. I only had a second to appreciate all  
of this before she reacted. 
 
"You fucking bastard." 
 
Before I could explain that it was an accident, Sam was all over me.  
She must have had some natural talent, because she took me apart  
like a pro. Her left fist caught me in the right eye as I ogled her  
chest. Her right cracked me in the jaw. Another dozen punches struck  
me in the face opening up my cuts and causing new ones. I saw my  
blood splattering across her chest as my head was snapped around.  
Winding up with another right, she hit me in the mouth with a punch  
that sent my bloody mouthpiece flying across the ring. I started to  
stumble. As I went down, I grabbed onto her shoulders to break my  
fall. My head buried itself between her beautiful warm breasts. I  
could barely see it coming as Sam grabbed my hair with her left hand  
and yanked my head back. Drawing her right hand back, she hammered  
me into unconsciousness. 
 
I never returned to work, and I had to move. But there was one  
consolation. When I came to, I was in the gym's shower being held up 
under the spray by Rose's naked body. Later, she took me back to her  
place. Not only did she patch up my wounds, she also helped me patch  
up my male ego. Seems that not everyone minds a loser. 
 
As for Jane, she went on to win the city's first female golden  
gloves championship along with her new teammates, Sam and Diane. The  
last I heard, they were suing for professional female boxing in the  
state. Knowing Jane, I knew nothing would stop her until she had  
achieved her dream of beating a male in a pro fight. Until then, I was 
saving up to bet against him.   
 
 
           THE PRIZEFIGHT XI: Sharon KO's Japan 
           ------------------------------------ 
 
Sharon and her husband Bob surveyed their hotel suite just five  
minutes from downtown Tokyo. Small by American standards, it was  
positively extravagant by local standards. Seeing that the suite  
contained a jacuzzi, Bob helped Sharon off with her clothes and then  
stripped to join her. 
 
As they relaxed in the steaming waters, Bob marveled again at his  
luck as he wrapped his arm around Sharon's broad shoulders. Sharon  
was a large woman, five eleven, one seventy. She was heavily muscled  
and sported arms that were almost seventeen inches around. But she  
didn't just look good, she could also perform. Sharon could usually  
out bench press all but the largest men in the gym. Pound for pound  
she was always the strongest. But Sharon wasn't just a muscle queen,  
she could also beat most runners in a 10k race. She was perhaps the  
finest athlete in the world, participating in a sport which did not  
tolerate any weakness. Sharon was a boxer. 
 
Sharon had learned her trade from her father, a former Golden Gloves  
champion, and a man who truly loved the sport. Sharon had also  
gained a love for the sport, but was frustrated by the lack of  
opportunities for women fighters. So when Sharon had been  
recruited for the Circuit, she eagerly accepted. Circuit fights were  
brutal bare knuckled affairs which brought boxing back to its  
roots. Sharon thrived on the competition, and within a few years  
managed to beat former heavyweight boxing champ Matt Dyson for the  
Circuit championship. She had defended her title a number of times  
since, culminating in a bloody grudge fight between her and fellow  
female boxer Lori.  
 
After her successful title defense against Lori, Sharon had  
relinquished the title and went into semi-retirement. She now only  
fought in occasional exhibition matches. Despite a seven figure  
minimum purse, there were no lack of patrons around the world  
willing to pay to see her fight. So when the Japanese equivalent of  
the circuit had contacted her and had offered her ten times more  
than her usual price, she had eagerly accepted. 
 
Bob considered their position as he watched the swirling waters  
relax the dark nipples on Sharon's firm C-cup breasts. The Japanese  
had been practicing the martial arts for thousands of years. As her  
trainer, Bob had hired the some of the best martial artists in the  
states to prepare Sharon for this contest. He hoped that it would be  
enough. 
 
Sharon and Bob stayed at the hotel for four days to overcome their  
jet lag. On the fourth night, a Mercedes arrived at the hotel  
entrance to take them to a small private arena built under one of  
the city's largest skyscrapers. They were led to a small dressing  
room where Bob would help Sharon prepare for the coming contest. The  
contest would take place on two nights. Tonight Sharon would face  
three martial artists in a series of short contests. Two nights from  
now, she would face their champion. 
 
Sharon was led out to the center of the arena. The small, exclusively  
male audience of wealthy Japanese businessmen cheered as Sharon  
stepped onto the raised circular fighting platform. They went wild  
as Bob stripped off Sharon's robe to reveal her uniform. Sharon was  
wearing a red silk karate gi which clung to her body. Her oiled  
chest and muscular cleavage were on display through the open front  
as she waved to the crowd. The thin fabric also did nothing to hide  
her conspicuously large nipples.  
 
Sharon's first opponent was brought out. A short broad man built  
like a barrel and wearing a traditional judo gi, he was supposed to  
be a former Olympic medalist. The announcements were made and the two  
opponents began to circle each other. Sharon flicked a cautious jab  
at the man's head. Lightning quick, the judo master darted in,  
grabbed her wrist, and slammed her to the mat. Sharon felt a bolt of  
pain in her shoulder as she landed. An average man would have  
suffered a dislocated shoulder. The master drew his hand back and  
launched a palm strike at Sharon's face. But before his hand had  
traveled an inch, he felt it stop dead as Sharon caught it with her  
free hand. 
 
"Not today pal," Sharon admonished as she sent him rolling off of  
her with a kick to the shoulder. 
 
The crowd applauded their approval at the first exchange as both  
fighters rolled to their feet and faced off again. She again led off  
with a jab which he easily avoided. Stepping in, she swung a big  
right at his head. The master spun in and grabbed her shoulder to  
administer an arm drag. But as his hands grasped her rock hard  
deltoid and he dropped to slam her again, he felt his feet lift  
slightly from the canvas as Sharon stiffened. Fear showed in his  
eyes as she used her right hand to grab the back of his collar in an  
unbreakable grip. 
 
"Say goodnight Gracie," Sharon quipped as she sent her left fist  
smashing into the man's midsection. 
 
She connected five more times with her left hand as she held him  
with her right. With a paralyzing pair of kidney shots, she released  
him to drop to the canvas. As the judo master lay moaning in a fetal  
ball, Sharon politely bowed to the stunned audience. As she  
straightened back up, they broke into thunderous applause. 
 
"Nice job kid. Looks like you won some fans." Bob greeted her as she  
returned to the edge of the platform. 
 
"Sorry I couldn't make it last for more than thirty seconds. Hope  
they feel they're getting their money's worth." 
 
Further announcements were made in Japanese, and Sharon stepped back  
onto the platform to face her next opponent. He was a small lean  
Chinese man, about five seven, one forty. He was a kung fu master  
reputed to be the re-incarnation of Bruce Li. The fighters bowed to  
each other and took their stances. Too fast to see, the man whipped a  
backfist into Sharon's nose causing her to take a step backward. The  
crowd applauded the display. Sharon shook her head and stepped  
forward. Again, the man's fist flashed out and smacked her in the  
nose. The crowd applauded louder as they observed a trickle of blood  
from one of her nostrils. Sharon wiped her nose on the back of her  
wrist. Glancing down she saw the redness. Looking back, she saw a  
smug look on her opponent's face. He invited her to engage him again  
with a hand motion. Sharon stepped forward to face him for a third  
time. His fist flashed again. There was a load crack and the man's  
head snapped back. He was caught frozen for a moment, his own fist  
an inch from Sharon's face. He struggled to stay on his feet, 
then fell backwards on his ass with a split lip and a bloody  
nose. The crowd cheered Sharon's superior speed and laughed at the  
man's position. He sat for a few seconds, his face turning beet red.  
He then flashed to his feet and started to yell. Every muscle and  
tendon in his body looked ready to exploded as he stood trembling in  
rage. Screaming with a higher pitch, he launched himself through the  
air at Sharon. His yell abruptly ended with a "huuumph!" as Sharon  
sidestepped and impaled him in midair on her right fist. Using her  
greater momentum, she continued forward, and then drove him straight  
to the ground, so that she ended up in a kneeling position with her  
fist pinning his doubled up form to the canvas. To the assembled  
crowd, it appeared that Sharon's fist must have punched through his  
stomach into the platform beneath. She stood up and raised her fists  
in victory as her opponent clutched his scrawny chest and wheezed on  
the mat, trying to draw a breath of air. The crowd burst into  
applause as Sharon posed for them. As she started to return to Bob,  
she heard a croaking yell behind her. Wheeling around, she delivered a  
backhand slap to the little man who was about to attack from behind.  
The slap nearly ripped his head off, and he was spun one hundred and  
eighty degrees to land on his face. A pair of attendants ran out and  
began to drag the stunned man off the platform before he could  
disgrace himself any further. 
 
"Damn good of you to let him get in a couple of shots before you  
took him out," Bob observed. 
 
"Can't make it look too easy. They might want a refund." 
 
"Looks like they're bringing out your third opponent. Holy shit!" 
 
Sharon glanced over her shoulder to where Bob was looking and did a  
double take. Approaching the platform was a sumo wrestler who was  
over six feet tall and weighed almost five hundred pounds.  
 
Seeing Sharon's reaction, Bob said, "Remember, the bigger they are,  
the harder they fall." 
 
"In that case, maybe you'd like to handle this one, Bob." 
 
"That's OK honey. I wouldn't want to interrupt you while you're  
on a roll." 
 
Sharon stepped back onto the platform and bowed to her final  
opponent of the night. Opposite her, the sumo giant returned her bow  
and began to stamp his feet. Sharon felt the whole platform shake as  
each of his feet came down. As she approached the center, the  
wrestler charged. Sharon stood her ground and tried to connect with  
a right to his jaw. Before she could launch the blow, his immense  
belly loomed at her like a truck threatening to bowl her over.  
She put out her hands in a futile attempt to stop him. As she was  
swept backwards by his rushing body, he started to slap at her head.  
The wrestler's ham like hands smacked her around like a rag doll.  
Desperately, Sharon dived under one of his swings and rolled to her  
feet. The wrestler needed a moment to stop and turn again to face  
her. As he charged again, Sharon ducked under his arm and buried  
her fist in his flabby side. Her hand disappeared to the wrist, then  
popped back out as if she had hit a huge block of soft rubber. One  
look at his face showed that he hadn't felt anything either. Ducking  
a responding swing, she straightened up and delivered a left-right  
combination to his fat belly. She swore her fist got caught in his  
belly button for a second, giving him a chance to slap her again on  
the side of the head with a blow that sent her skidding sideways.  
 
Sharon was seeing stars. She barely got up in time to avoid his  
next rush. The crowd booed as she danced to avoid her fat opponent  
while she tried to formulate a strategy. It was like fighting the  
Pillsbury Dough Boy. No doubt she could continue to dance around him  
for another minute until he collapsed with a heart attack, but that  
wouldn't satisfy either the crowd or herself. Ducking another swing,  
she saw an opening. Stepping behind him, she smashed him on the base  
of the neck with a pair of hammer fists. The wrestler shook his huge  
head as she delivered two more blows that staggered him. Moving back  
in front of him, she started to punch him in the face with a series of  
straight rights which could have felled an ox. She backed off for a  
second as he appeared to wobble on his feet. Getting trapped under  
his falling body wouldn't be a very dignified way to win. But  
instead of falling, he suddenly snapped to attention and swept her  
up in a crushing bear hug. Sharon tried to break his grip by pushing  
against his blubbery shoulders, but it only served to increase the  
crushing pressure on her lower back. Her breasts were forced upward  
on the slope of his fat sweaty belly to rest almost nipple to nipple  
against his. She noted without satisfaction that his were bigger, but  
hers were firmer. Placing her hands on his forearms, she pushed  
downwards to force her thin waist through his grip. When she had  
raised herself sufficiently, she started to rock his head with  
roundhouse punches. She nearly passed out as he clenched up with pain.  
With a titanic right, she loosened his grip, and caused him to drop  
her. Not about to give him a second chance, she continued to hammer  
him as long as he stood. After hitting him enough to put down a  
dozen men, she stepped back a moment. Looking into the sumo's eyes,  
she could see that he was out on his feet. Pausing for effect, she  
placed her hands on his belly and pushed. She swore the whole arena  
shook as he landed on his back with a crash. 
 
The crowd went wild as they cheered the sight of a woman defeating a  
man three times her size. After posing for the crowd, she was  
accompanied by Bob back to her private dressing room. 
 
"Are you OK Sharon?" Bob asked as he probed Sharon's rock hard  
midsection. 
 
Sharon winced as she replied, "Bruised a bit maybe, but I don't  
think there's any internal damage. At least you can't say they  
didn't get their money's worth on that one." 
 
"I'm going to ask the promoters to delay the main event  
two weeks to give you time to recover. After your performance  
tonight, I don't think they'll mind." 
 
"You don't hear me complaining," Sharon replied as Bob led her into  
the shower. 
 
The promoters had been delighted by Sharon's performance, and were  
more than happy to grant Bob's request. The extra time would also  
allow them more time to cash in on the worldwide interest in the fight.  
On the night before the main event, Sharon and Bob were doing a little  
work in a small private gym in their hotel. The gym was less than  
twenty feet square, but fairly well equipped. Bob was holding the  
heavy bag for Sharon as she put honed her skills. Sharon was wearing  
black jogging pants and a light pink tank top which clung to her sweaty  
upper torso. 
 
"Come on Sharon, put him away," Bob coaxed as she pounded the bag. 
 
He marveled at Sharon's power as he felt the blows transmitted  
through the bag into his gut. They felt as hard as the blows he used  
to receive when his training partners used to throw a medicine ball  
into his gut. 
 
"Whoah Sharon, hold up there. I don't know about you, but I can't  
take anymore. Besides, you should save some of that energy for your  
opponent." 
 
Sharon stopped, the sweat trickled off of her pects, between her  
breasts, and collected on the fabric clinging to her washboard abs. 
Bob never failed to get aroused after looking at his fistic goddess  
after she had completed a hard workout. 
 
"I'll tell you what. If you still need to burn off some excess  
energy, I think I can show you a new exercise or two on that bench  
over there." 
 
Sharon smiled like a cat as she asked, "More than three reps?" 
 
"Oh, I think we can get at least five reps," Bob smiled back. 
 
Then the lights went out. 
 
"What the hell?" Bob exclaimed. 
 
"Must be a power outage," Sharon replied. 
 
Less than ten seconds later the lights came on. Sharon and Bob  
blinked, and then saw that a dozen black clad ninja had crowded  
around them in the tiny gym. 
 
"I don't suppose you guys are here to bring us towels?" Bob asked. 
 
The red belted ninja leader stepped forward and slammed his fist  
into Bob's face as a reply. Sharon exploded into action at the  
sight. A right hand smashed one of the small men, sending him  
toppling backwards with two of his companions. A left send another  
ninja tumbling over the weight bench. A ninja jumped behind Sharon  
and sent a strike into her right kidney. Sharon was so pumped, she  
didn't even feel the board breaking blow, as the man's knuckles  
cracked on her steely lower back muscles. The ninja's yelp of pain  
was cut short as Sharon's elbow splintered his teeth. 
 
The ninja were at a disadvantage in the cramped quarters. For the  
most part, they had no room for kicking or fancy moves. On the  
other hand, Sharon had plenty of room to punch. Bob was holding his  
own, having managed to take out two of the ninja. But two others  
grabbed his arms and started kneeing him in the gut. Sharon tried to  
step towards him, but was met by a side kick to her stomach. The  
shock traveled up the man's leg as his shin connected just bellow  
her breasts. Sharon grabbed his foot and twisted, sending him flying  
into the wall. Snatching up a pair of thirty pound dumbbells, she  
leapt like a tigress upon the men who were assaulting her lover. 
 
"Hey ninja assholes!" Sharon yelled as she used one dumbbell to crush  
a ninja's ribs. 
 
As the other ninja turned to face her, he was met by an arm curl  
that broke his jaw and sent him flying. Bob slumped to the floor as  
he was released. Turning around, Sharon used the dumbbells to take  
out the remaining ninja, until only the leader was left standing.  
Yelling something, the leader pointed at Sharon and motioned.  
Accepting the challenge, she tossed the dumbbells aside. One smashed  
a man flat who was getting to his knees. 
 
As Sharon threaded her way past the bodies to confront the leader,  
he threw a flash bomb against the ceiling, blinding her for a second.  
Before she could recover, a foot smashed the back of her head.  
Blindly swinging behind her, she was met by a pair of nunchakus  
slamming into her crotch. As Sharon doubled over with an anguished cry  
to clutch her damaged womanhood, the ninja whipped the fighting  
sticks across the side of her face to send her stumbling against a  
wall. Whipping the sticks back and forth inches in front her, the  
leader had Sharon pinned. Without warning, he sent the sticks  
cracking across her ribs. Another blow hit her in the stomach. And a  
third caught her left tit with the force of a baseball bat. Sharon  
dropped to all fours, giving the ninja leader the opportunity to stripe  
her back. Desperately, Sharon grasped one of his boots and yanked  
his feet out from under him. Quickly crawling on top of him, she  
used her superior size and strength to wrench the nunchakus from his  
grasp. Grabbing him by the front of his uniform, she sent her fist  
pistoning into his face. No stranger to ground fighting, the ninja  
gathered his legs under Sharon and launched her off of him. Rolling  
to his feet, he scrambled across the room. Sharon recovered quickly  
and came after him. Again the ninja released a flash bomb which  
blinded her for a few seconds. But when she recovered her sight, the  
ninja was still in front of her, trying to struggle free of Bob's  
grasp around his legs. 
 
"Thanks for the gift Bob, I've been wondering what you were going to  
get me from Tokyo." 
 
"I thought you might want a ninja. Try to work with your left a  
little more honey." 
 
As Sharon towered over him, the ninja leader stopped struggling,  
held his hands up, and started to talk a stream of Japanese. 
 
"That's right. I would like to know who put you up to this and why.  
But since I don't speak Japanese, I guess I'm just going to have to  
beat the shit out of you." 
 
Sharon's fists pummeled the man's face as Bob held him up from the  
knees. Sharon felt bone breaking as she delivered a series of lefts.  
Stepping back for a minute, she surveyed her handiwork. The ninja's  
mask was soaked with blood and his head lolled to one side. Sharon  
finished him with a spinning back kick that sent both the ninja and  
Bob tumbling. 
 
"Been wanting to try that since I got here." 
 
Bob got shakily to his feet. 
 
Seeing the ugly red welts on her body, he said, "Jesus Sharon, lets  
get back to the room so I can have a look at you." 
 
"In a minute Bob. I've got something to do first." 
 
Bending over, Sharon picked up the nunchakus with one hand and the  
ninja leader with the other. Lifting him like a child, she threw him  
over the bench and yanked his pants down. Bob watched in horror as  
she lined up the sticks. 
 
"Holy shit, you aren't?" 
 
"Damned right I am. We've got to leave these assholes a message.  
Besides, you didn't see where he hit me." 
 
"You mean?" 
 
"No more forced reps for a while." 
 
"I'll see you back in the room when you're done." 
 
Bob walked out as Sharon was lining up a dumbbell over the sticks as if  
she was about to drive a stake through a vampire's heart. He shivered  
when he heard the ninja's wail echo down the hall. But fuck him. He  
was still getting less than he deserved. 
 
Sharon arrived back at their room to find Bob hastily packing. 
 
"Are we going somewhere?" 
 
"Yea. The way I figure it, those guys were either sent to  
rough you up, or to take you out before the fight. Maybe somebody is  
betting against you, or maybe they just don't appreciate seeing women  
beating men in a society like this. Regardless of the reason, I  
don't think we should stick around to find out how persistent they  
are. Besides, you need your beauty rest." 
 
The next night, Sharon and Bob took a cab to the arena. They were  
greeted by a number of anxious looking promoters. After explaining  
the trouble in the hotel gym, the translator explained that the  
ninja were probably sent by rival interests who were looking to  
influence the outcome of the fight in order to break their  
organization. 
 
Bob was glad they would be leaving soon as he led Sharon to  
her dressing room. Tonight's fight would be another martial  
arts match which included kicking. Sharon wasn't a kickboxer, but  
she had learned enough in her previous month of training to hold her  
own. Besides, she could hit harder with her fists than most men  
could kick. 
 
Sharon stepped onto the edge of the platform and allowed Bob to  
remove her robe. She was wearing a pair of white and red silk boxing  
shorts and nothing else. Her fists were taped and her long black  
hair was tied behind her in a ponytail. Her magnificent oiled body  
gleamed under the bright lights. The crowd howled wildly, but the  
cheers quickly died as they noticed the large angry bruises covering  
Sharon's body. Odds immediately started changing as the gamblers  
tried to gauge the extent of her injuries. 
 
Across the platform, the Japanese champion made his appearance. He  
was six feet tall, two twenty. He had a bodybuilder's physique which  
he proudly displayed to the crowd. Judging by their reaction, he was  
a popular champion. He wore a karate gi bottom with a black belt.  
His attendants brought out a stack of bricks and arranged them on  
the platform. Moving to the first pile, he broke two bricks with an  
elbow strike. At the next pile he broke another three bricks with a  
head butt. At the final pile, he crushed five bricks with his taped  
fist. As a final demonstration, he splintered three inches of pine  
boards with a straight kick. Bowing to the cheering crowd, he  
returned to his side of the platform to await the start of the fight. 
 
"Too bad we didn't think of putting on a demonstration," Bob noted. 
 
"Hmm, I think we can arrange something. How about I break two arms,  
three fingers, five ribs, and three inches of stomach muscle?" 
 
"Works for me." 
 
After the platform was cleaned, the opponents bowed to each other at  
the center of the platform and the match was started. The rules were  
very different from what Sharon was used to. Any strike above and  
bellow the waist was legal. There would be no rounds. They would  
fight until one of them was knocked out for at least a ten count.  
After a knockout, the fighters would be allowed a three minute rest.  
The first fighter to score three knockouts won.  
 
Sharon circled her opponent cautiously. She was a boxer, but this  
wasn't a boxing match. The man darted in and sent a kick for her  
midsection which she stepped back to avoid. Moving in, she intended  
to try her jab. But as she set herself, he caught her with a low  
sidekick to her thigh. Ignoring his tactics, she continued forward.  
He aimed a jab at her head. Sharon ducked in and delivered a heart  
punch between his bulging pects with a meaty thud. The man staggered  
a few steps backwards from the force of the blow, surprise and  
disbelief written on his face. Sharon pursued him. Setting himself,  
he launched a powerful roundhouse kick to her side. Sharon's thin  
side abdominals, forged by a hundred thousand crunches, took the  
blow like a telephone pole.  
 
Raising her arms to expose her midsection, she yelled, "Come on!" 
 
Even though the man didn't speak English, he understood the  
challenge clearly. Setting himself, he launched a series of  
left-right roundhouse kicks to her sides. When she was sure she had  
proven her point, she stepped in and started exchanging body shots.  
Having accepted her challenge, he had no choice but to stand his  
ground. His hard shinbone smacked against her rippled side. Her taped  
fist deliberately slammed into the center of his midsection where his  
muscles were the thickest and strongest. After a brutal thirty second  
display of oriental machismo, Sharon's opponent folded. The crowd  
applauded as Sharon followed up with a roundhouse right which put  
him down for the ten count. 
 
Both fighters returned to their area's to await the next round. 
At the end of the break, Sharon's opponent looked confident and  
ready to rock. It's amazing what being fed three minutes of bullshit  
can do for a man's ego. When he was in range, he started to launch a  
series of quick punches and kicks designed to put her on the  
defensive and keep her off balance. But rather than back off, she  
put her hands up and went into a defensive crouch. Taking a number  
of hard blows, she patiently waited for an opportunity. As his attack  
continued to wear on without effect, the man grew frustrated and  
careless. Forgetting defense, he was concentrating on penetrating  
her guard. At that point, she stood up and lashed out with a  
lighting quick punch which caught him right on the point of his jaw.  
He dropped as if she had pushed his off switch. Not bothering to  
wait the ten count, Sharon turned her back and casually walked away.  
The stunned crowd exploded at the one punch knockout. Bob grinned as  
she returned to him.  
 
"Should I be call room service and ask them to start chilling the  
Champaign?" Bob asked. 
 
"Hey, you're the one who's always telling me not to get  
overconfident. This guy hasn't shown me his best yet." 
 
After they had revived him, the champion's manager had spent the  
remaining time yelling in his face punctuated by a number of slaps.  
Returning to the platform, he adopted more of a defensive posture.  
While she was still out of range, the man fired a jab towards her  
face. While she was watching his fist, he launched his real attack  
with his feet. A low side kick connected viciously with her knee  
cap. Sharon felt something snap. Attempting to step back and take  
stock of the damage, her knee buckled under her. The champion wasted  
no time following up with a swift kick to the face that knocked her  
onto her back. Rolling over, Sharon managed to get to her feet by  
the count of eight. Her injured left leg wouldn't support any  
weight. She was effectively pinned in place. She threw a few  
defensive jabs as the man returned. Seeing that she couldn't move,  
a cruel smile formed on his face. Circling her, he tried to take out  
her good leg with a kick to the back of the knee. Sharon was  
immediately dropped by the blow. Before she had fully regained her  
feet, the man leapt in front of her. Placing his hands on her  
shoulders, he delivered a devastating head butt to the center of her  
beautiful face. Wrapping his hands around the back of her head, he  
forced her face to meet his rising knee. Once, twice, three times  
he drove his knee into Sharon's trapped head. As Sharon fell to her  
knees, he grabbed her ponytail and wrenched her head back. Sharon's  
nose was a bloody mess and her eyes were spinning in their sockets.  
Drawing his fist back, the champion sent his best brick smashing  
punch into her broken nose. A second punch sent blood and pulp  
splattering on the mat as if someone had hit a small tomato with a  
hammer. Bob screamed and had to be restrained from rushing onto the  
mat as the Japanese prepared a third blow. 
 
"Can't you assholes see that she's finished!?" 
 
Looking right in his eyes, the champion unleashed the third punch.  
Letting go of her hair, he allowed Sharon to drop on the mat. Bob  
was released and rushed to Sharon's side. Without any help, he  
dragged her off the platform. Checking her vitals, he was relieved  
to find that they were strong. Probing her face, he winced when he  
felt shards of bone grinding under her right eye. Fucking assholes,  
he thought, even in these contests, there were supposed to be rules.  
Sharon flinched at his touch as she regained consciousness.  
 
"How long?" she gasped. 
 
"You're not going back out there." 
 
Grabbing Bob by the collar, she said, "I've got to go back." 
 
Looking into her stormy gray eyes, Bob realized that she would go,  
with or without his help.  
 
"OK Sharon. We've got less than two minutes. Watch the right side of  
your face. Another shot there could blind you." 
 
"Forget my face. Do something about my knee. I can't stand on it." 
 
Grabbing rolls of bandages and tape, Bob worked quickly and expertly  
to wrap her knee. With less than fifteen seconds left, he helped her  
to her feet. Sharon was a little shaky as she put some weight on her  
knee, but it held. The crowd applauded her courage as she slowly  
limped onto the platform. She was covered with blood, sweat, and  
bruises. The right side of her face was grotesquely swollen. And she  
could barely walk. Yet there she was, claiming the center of the  
platform and daring the Japanese champion to take it from her. 
 
The crowd was moved to watch in silence as the champion took the  
platform. Positioning himself in front of her, he executed a long  
formal bow to convey his respect for his opponent. Sharon returned  
it as best as she could. Slowly stalking her, the champion sent a  
straight kick flying into her belly. Tensing her abs, Sharon took  
the kick, but was forced to shuffle backwards on her bad knee. A  
high roundhouse kick caught her on the left side of her head. Using  
his superior mobility, the Japanese man hit her with a quick series  
of punches. As Sharon stood on wobbly knees, he spun around and sent  
a spinning back kick arcing towards her head. With more of a hop  
than a step, Sharon moved in and caught his knee under her left  
armpit. Wasting no time, she drove her rock hard right into his  
face. He tried to escape, but she was set solidly and ignoring the  
protests of her knee. After smacking around his head like a speed  
bag, she paused when she felt his body go limp. She drew her fist  
back one last time. The muscles in her right arm looked ready to  
burst as she prepared to test her own breaking ability. The crowd  
drew in a collective breath as they instinctively realized that  
their champion would have a better chance facing a bullet. But as  
Sharon looked at the glazed expression on the man's face, her  
muscles relaxed, and she gently let him fall to the canvas. The  
crowd stood there silently for a moment. Then one of the Japanese  
champion's managers bowed to Sharon, then the other. The whole crowd  
followed suit. Sharon slowly bowed back, the crowd straightened back  
up as she shuffled back to Bob. As she was helped back to the  
dressing room, the crowd could be heard chanting, "Sharon...  
Sharon... Sharon..."  
 
Bob got up as Sharon was wheeled out of an examining room in a  
small private clinic. Half her face was covered in bandages. Her  
knee was splinted and bandaged. 
 
"This is the first time I ever saw you coming out worse than the  
loser. I'd like you to know that I'm proud of how you handled  
yourself tonight." 
 
"Thanks Bob. I just couldn't do it. We came here for a fight and the  
fight was over." 
 
Wrapping his arms around her, he asked, "And are you ready to get  
out yet?" 
 
Looking off into the distance, she replied, "I thought about it as  
they were putting me back together. My whole life is about  
challenging myself by facing others. And there isn't any sport more  
challenging than fighting. And these matches are the purest form of  
fighting. I can live without the blood and brutality, but I can't live  
without the challenge. Maybe someday I'll be able to give it up,  
but not now. What I worry about most is you. Sometimes I think that  
watching me take a beating hurts you more than it hurts me. Can you  
take it any longer?" 
 
Bob kissed her gently on the cheek. 
 
"I knew you were special when I married you. I fell in love with you  
because you're special. I understand your need and I'll stand by you  
as long as you want to continue." 
 
"Thanks Bob, you don't know how much that means to me." 
 
Bob smiled at her. 
 
"I didn't want to bring this up right away, but it seems like an  
appropriate time. Some German industrialists caught the show off  
the satellite. They are prepared to offer you even more than the  
Japanese to fight their champions." 
 
"Champions?" 
 
"They have separate male and female champions. If you can beat  
their female champion, they're willing to let you have a crack at  
the male." 
 
"No martial arts bullshit?" 
 
"Just simple, German, bare knuckles boxing on the barn floor." 
 
"Call them back and tell their champions to say good-bye to their  
teeth. We're going to Germany." 
 
"Whoa there, aren't you forgetting something?" Bob asked as he kicked  
her wheelchair. 
 
"Oh, I suppose I could wait until I've recovered. But if we went  
now, the odds would only be slightly in my favor." 
 
"That's my girl. Race you to the car," Bob said as he spun her chair 
and took off. 
 
Wheeling around in a circle, Sharon yelled, "Hey, get back here. I  
won't be in this chair forever. And when I get out I'm going to need  
a sparring partner." 
 
Bob stopped as if he'd been shot. Trotting back, he took a position  
behind her and started pushing. 
 
"Yes dear." 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
           THE PRIZEFIGHT XII: Sharon KO's Germany 
           --------------------------------------- 
 
The video tape showed two men squaring off against each other in a  
small ring. The first man was a blonde giant, six five, two sixty.  
The second man was circling him and peppering his face with jabs. He  
was about six two, two twenty. The blonde made no attempt to cover  
up as his opponent rocked his head with his hardest blows. Suddenly,  
the blonde giant lashed out with a straight left which smashed the  
center of the smaller man's face and drove him back a step.  
Following up with a straight right, the man was driven back another  
two steps. With another two punches, the blonde giant had driven his  
opponent into a corner. The smaller man tried to punch back, but he  
was clearly out on his feet. The blonde started to pound his  
defenseless head with a series of powerful roundhouses. The sharp  
crack of his bare fists on the man's face could be clearly heard on  
the professionally produced tape. Pausing for a moment, the blonde  
drew his right hand back slowly. Putting his whole body into it, he  
unleashed a right that snapped the man's head almost around. The man  
slumped slowly to the ground as if his spine was made of jelly. His  
head lolled at an unnatural angle. The small crowd could be heard  
cheering as the blonde paraded around the ring with his arms raised  
in victory. 
 
"The winner is Hans Grueber. The current German champion. The man he  
beat was a former all Europe heavyweight boxing champion. He died  
later that night from his injuries." 
 
Sharon nodded as Bob continued. 
 
"He doesn't box, he hits. His manager claims that he can hit harder  
than any fighter in the world. Supposedly, he broke a bull's neck  
with one blow on a bet." 
 
"Bulls don't hit back. I do. What else have you got?" 
 
"The next tape shows the German women's champion, Erika. In this  
tape, she's fighting an exhibition match against one of the top male  
contenders." 
 
Bob started the tape. The monitor showed a large blonde woman with a  
golden tan wearing white boxing shorts and a white tank top. She was  
six feet tall and a heavily muscled one eighty. 
 
"Jesus, are they growing them in test tubes?" asked Sharon. 
 
"There have been rumors." 
 
The blonde's male opponent looked about six one, two ten. Bob and  
Sharon watched the fight as it progressed through six grueling  
rounds. By the sixth round, Erika still looked fresh. Her opponent  
on the other hand was out of steam. With punishing attacks to the  
body, she brought his hands down and hit him in the face. She sent  
him to the canvas twice in the sixth before scoring a knockout in  
the seventh round. Other than the blood smeared on her top and  
shorts which wasn't hers, she was nearly unmarked.  
 
Turning off the tape, Bob asked, "What do you think?" 
 
"I'm more worried about Erika than Hans. She knows what she's doing  
in the ring. She's bigger than I am, and I'd suspect that she might  
even know as much as I do. Where did she learn to box like that?"  
 
"Germany isn't like the States. Women's boxing has always existed  
here. Erika started as a child at a local boxing club. When she was  
a teenager, she won the women's national championship three years in  
a row. She even was famous for a while after she beat a professional  
male boxer who challenged her to fight him on nationwide television. 
Two years ago, she retired from the ring. Of course, she really  
joined the German underground circuit. Just like in the States,  
circuit fighting pays better and provides more opportunities for  
women fighters. Within six months, Erika became the women's champion  
and has been defending her title ever since." 
 
"Has she ever fought Hans?" 
 
"As a matter of fact, she has challenged Hans for his title, but his  
managers refused. Since there are separate championships for both  
men and women, she has no way of forcing the issue. The only reason  
they're offering you an opportunity, is that they're pissed about  
your world championship title." 
 
Sharon remembered that she had met Bob when she had fought for the  
circuit championship against former heavyweight boxing champion Matt  
Dyson. She had beaten him in a brutal fight, and had won what many  
considered to be the unofficial "world boxing championship". Sharon  
had successfully defended her title a few times and then retired.  
She now was in demand to fight in special challenge matches for huge  
purses. Her last series of fights had been in Japan, where she had  
beaten their martial arts champion. After seeing this match on a  
private satellite channel, a group of German industrialists had  
offered to sponsor Sharon to fight Erika. It was also arranged, that  
if Sharon managed to beat Erika, she would get a shot at Hans. 
 
During her fight in Japan, Sharon's knee had been injured by a kick.  
For the last six months she had worked to rehabilitate it. For the  
first two months, she couldn't do any roadwork, and had to  
concentrate on her upper body. As a result, she was now sporting  
legitimate seventeen inch arms on her five eleven frame. At one  
point, she had bulked up to one hundred and eighty three pounds, but  
had since cut back to a ripped one seventy five. All in all, she was  
in the best shape of her life and felt ready to take on Erika and  
Hans at the same time. 
 
The night of the fight, Bob wheeled the car around to pick  
Sharon up in front of their large rented villa. Unlike the Japanese  
who had picked them up in a Mercedes, the Germans had made her a  
gift of one. They drove about twenty minutes to a large private club  
in the countryside. When they arrived, a valet took their car and  
they were led inside to a large private dressing room. 
 
Alone in the room. Bob and Sharon went through their usual pre-fight  
routines. Tonight's fight would follow rules they were used to. The  
fight would consist of three minute rounds with one minute breaks.  
There would be an unusually long thirty count which would ensure  
that a fighter was truly beaten. Sharon had decided to wear the  
traditional brown leather gloves provided for her to protect her  
hands. The gloves had virtually no padding and wouldn't interfere  
with the action. 
 
Sharon and Bob were led ringside a few minutes before the fight was  
scheduled to begin. The inside of the club was designed to look like  
an old beer hall. Richly carved posts and beams dominated the dark  
interior. Steins and boar heads decorated the walls. Straw was  
scattered on the stained oak floor. The people in the small crowd  
had each paid outrageous sums to sit on crude wooden benches around  
the ring. The modest sized ring was composed of thick wooden posts  
and lined with actual rope. The floor of the ring appeared to be a  
continuation of the oak floor, but was actually a cleverly disguised  
mat material. No straw would ever find its way onto that mat. The  
stakes in these fights were to high to leave anything to chance.  
Beautiful brass lamps fitted with halogen bulbs lit the ring. They  
were bright, but not nearly as bright as the overhead lights used in  
larger arenas. Hidden in the lamps, ceiling, posts, and other  
locations were more than twenty HDTV cameras ready to broadcast the  
fight around the world via a privately owned satellite channel.  
Sharon was impressed. 
 
"This has got to be the nicest place I ever fought in. We've got to  
ask for a few of those steins to take home with us," Sharon said. 
 
"Like I said, they take their boxing very seriously here. This club  
hosts fights almost every night." 
 
In the center of the ring, a man clad in traditional dress was making  
announcements in German and English. 
 
"Welcome to a very special contest tonight. Introducing, with a  
record of thirty five wins and no losses, the German female bare  
knuckles boxing champion, Erika!" 
 
Erika dropped her robe and stepped into the ring. She was wearing  
tight white spandex shorts that hugged her muscular ass. She was  
topless as was the usual custom in these fights. Her muscular six  
foot tall body was magnificent. She had a golden tan and had been  
rubbed down with a thin coat of oil which highlighted her chiseled  
muscles. Her breasts were small and flat from her strict diet and  
training regimen, but she would never be mistaken for a man. Small,  
dark, hard looking nipples stood out in contrast to her fair skin.  
Her long blonde hair hung down her back in a braid. She had a  
beautifully strong face with a straight nose and pronounced jaw. Her  
ice blue eyes shone as she flexed her muscles for the crowd.  
Glancing over, Sharon saw Bob ogling her opponent. An elbow in his  
side elicited a sharp grunt. 
 
"Looked like you needed help closing your mouth Bob." 
 
Catching his breath, Bob replied, "Thanks dear, I needed that. Would  
you look at her. She must be over two hundred pounds now." 
 
"Yeah, looks like that tape was a few months and a few gallons of  
steroids out of date." 
 
The announcer now motioned at Sharon. 
 
"And introducing her opponent, with a record of thirty two wins, no  
losses, the woman who beat Matt Dyson to become the American circuit  
champion, Sharon!" 
 
As the cheers of the crowd testified, Sharon was not to be outdone  
in the battle of the bodies. Slipping out of her robe, she revealed  
her recently bulked up body. Her broad shoulders and seventeen inch  
arms looked even bigger next to her thin waist. She wasn't quite as  
cut as Erika, so she still managed to maintain a firm looking pair  
of C-cups topped with large excited nipples. Sharon had dark hair  
and stormy gray eyes set in a face which looked like it belonged to  
a model rather than a boxer. In honor of the occasion, she had  
decided to wear red, white, and blue silk boxing shorts. 
 
The bell was rung and round one was on. Sharon and Erika met at the  
center of the ring. Erika lashed out with the first jab which Sharon  
jumped back to avoid. Sharon moved in and tried a straight right  
which Erika dodged. Erika managed to score first with a jab that  
snapped Sharon's head back. Erika tried to follow up with another  
jab that Sharon ducked under, giving her the chance to score on  
Erika's ribs. Erika retreated with a grunt. The rest of the round  
went on in this fashion. Both opponents were feeling each other out,  
probing for weaknesses in each others defense. The bell sounded with  
neither woman marked with anything worse than a few red welts. Back  
in her corner, Sharon was discussing strategy with Bob. 
 
"She's a hell of a lot better than I expected. As good as I am  
maybe. Next round, we'll see who's stronger." 
 
The bell sounded for round two. The two fighters returned to their  
careful probing. Two minutes into the round, Sharon saw an  
opportunity. Erika had connected with a jab and attempted to throw a  
right hook. Sharon ducked and came up with a straight right of her  
own. But she discovered too late that Erika was prepared to miss.  
She moved her head less than three inches, allowing Sharon's fist to  
whiz by her left ear. A left uppercut to the chin dropped Sharon  
like a bad habit. Seeing the way Sharon lay still, Erika raised her  
arms in victory, confident that the perfectly executed punch had put  
her down for the count. But her look of elation turned to amazement  
as Sharon started stirring at the count of six and managed to get to  
one knee by the count of nine. Sharon's incredible conditioning  
would have allowed her to beat a ten count, but she used the rules  
to her advantage and stayed down until the count of twenty three  
before rising. Erika rushed over and tried to put her down again,  
but she found that Sharon was almost fully recovered. Before she  
could inflict anymore damage, the bell sounded. 
 
"Well, she's every bit as strong as she looks. She's fast to." 
 
The third round started off slowly. Midway through, Erika found an  
opening and rammed her right fist into Sharon's gut. Sharon folded  
a bit and Erika brought her hand up for another uppercut. But she  
was surprised as Sharon bobbed to one side showing that she hadn't  
been effected at all. Seeing what was coming, and being in no  
position to avoid it, Erika tensed her abs. With Erika overextended,  
Sharon was able to put her whole body into a left hook which  
purposefully connected with the thinnest part of Erika's abdominal  
wall. The blow thudded with a sound that could be heard all through  
the hall and drove Erika a foot to one side. Erika was barely able  
to prepare before Sharon's right smashed into her belly button. A  
left drove her back further. Feeling the ropes at her back, Erika  
tried to punch her way out. Her biceps knotted as she drove her  
large fist into Sharon's waiting body. They traded shots for about  
fifteen seconds before Erika realized that Sharon's punches were  
sapping her strength, while hers had no effect. No man twice her  
size had ever been able to take her punches without flinching. What  
the hell was this woman made of? Seeing an escape route, Erika  
scuttled to one side and spent the rest of the round trying to keep  
Sharon away with her slightly longer reach. She was relieved when  
the bell sounded. 
 
"Looks like you got her attention," Bob said. 
 
"Yea, she's tough, but she's not invincible." 
 
Back in her corner, Erika's handlers were going nuts. She wasn't  
hurt badly, but angry purple bruises were already forming where  
Sharon's fists had connected. 
 
"Look at these marks! She must have something in her gloves. I'm  
going to protest to the promoters," her manager screamed. 
 
Erika's hand snaked out and caught him by the collar. Her bicep  
swelled dangerously as she yanked him down for a face to face. 
 
"Do nothing to embarrass me. The only thing I feel in those gloves  
are her fists. I don't understand myself how she can hit that hard,  
but believe me, she can." 
 
The fourth round was uneventful. Both fighters realized that their  
opponent was capable of beating them if they made a major mistake.  
No major damage occurred in the fifth or sixth rounds either, but  
the crowd was still captivated. Unlike in America, where many people  
came to see nothing more than a human cockfight, the Germans  
appreciated the sight of two evenly matched competitors fighting a  
duel that was as much mental as physical. 
 
Towards the end of the seventh round, Sharon was able to score with  
a jab that blinded Erika long enough for her to connect with a  
right. Erika staggered as Sharon waded into her with both hands.  
Sweat exploded off her whipping ponytail as Sharon snapped her head  
back and forth. Erika dropped heavily to the floor as the bell  
sounded. Her handlers screamed at her to get up, but she just lay  
there. Sharon returned to her corner and watched as Bob worked on  
her. About fifteen seconds into the count, Erika started to stir.  
With the urging of her corner, she got to her feet. Droplets of  
blood stained the mat where she had been laying. A nasty looking  
cut was visible above her eyebrow as she raised her head. Before she  
could take her first step, she stumbled and fell on her face. Rising  
again, she managed to throw herself into the waiting arms of her  
handlers, just beating the thirty count by two seconds. 
 
With only thirty seconds left, Erika's handlers worked feverishly to  
bring her around. When the bell sounded for round eight, she was  
barely able to stand and wait for Sharon. She didn't need to wait  
long. Smelling blood, Sharon charged across the ring and went to  
work. Trapped in her corner, Erika tried to cover up and weather  
the storm. The tendons in Sharon's forearms stood out like steel  
cables as she hooked her hard leather clad fists into Erika's  
rippled abs. After taking a dozen man killing blows, her muscles  
collapsed and Sharon's fist entered four inches inside of her.  
Erika doubled over and dropped to her knees, an agonized expression  
on her face as she clutched her bruised intestines with one hand.  
Sharon went to a neutral to wait as the count started. Erika waited  
to the count of thirty before lurching to her feet. As she stood up,  
Erika prepared to try to fend Sharon off with more jabs. But Erika  
was now too slow to fend her off as she was picked apart by a  
bewildering variety of attacks. A left hook, a right cross, a  
backfist, and then a rabbit punch (legal in these matches) that put  
her on her ass. Wisely staying down, Erika used the thirty count to  
survive the rest of the round. 
 
"Looks like she's about finished," Bob noted. 
 
"She's no more finished than I am. The damage is still mostly  
superficial. I can't give her a chance to recover. As long as she's  
on her feet, she's a threat." 
 
Erika rose slowly for round nine. Her face and body had taken a  
pounding. Blood and sweat where smeared all over her torso.  
Crouching low and keeping her hands high, she waited for Sharon to  
try to finish her off. She realized that she was in trouble, and she  
had to take a major risk at this point to win. As Sharon came within  
range, she shot her fists between Erika's gloves. After taking three  
or four punches to the face, she started to drop her guard. Seeing  
her fists coming down, Sharon shot a knockout right for her chin.  
Erika dropped down allowing Sharon's fist to pass over her head.  
With all the remaining strength in her legs, back, and arms, she  
rose with an uppercut that connected hard under Sharon's jaw.  
Sharon's feet where lifted off the mat by the force of the blow and  
she was flung onto her back as if she had been shot with a magnum. 
 
Bob screamed as Sharon landed and lay still. He was terribly worried  
that the blow had broken her neck, but he knew better than to rush  
out before the count ended. As Sharon lay on the false wood floor  
barely breathing, Erika was smiling and accepting the congratulations  
of her corner as the count reached twenty. She started posing for  
the cheering crowd as the count reached twenty five. The noise  
inside the small hall exploded into a deafening roar as the count  
hit thirty. Erika felt more elated than she had when she won the  
title originally. She had never faced a tougher opponent, male or  
female. A chill stabbed through her heart as she heard an icy calm  
voice behind her. 
 
"What the hell are you doing? This fights not over yet." 
 
Erika turned to see that the crowd hadn't been cheering her victory.  
They had been cheering the sight of Sharon leaping to her feet to  
beat the count. Erika's face fell and her stomach lurched as she saw  
Sharon waiting for her, looking ready to fight another ten rounds.  
Erika tried to fight, but she was already beaten. Sharon came in and  
put her down with a quick combination. Even though her heart was no  
longer in it, Erika got back up and kept going. Both fighters  
were exhausted, and it took Sharon another three rounds before she  
finally put Erika down for good in the twelfth round. 
 
Unable to raise her leaden arms, Erika saw the roundhouse left that  
cracked into the side of her head and turned the world black.  
Waiting in a corner, Sharon held her breath as Erika bravely  
attempted to lift her body off the mat. Her huge triceps quivered  
with effort as she raised her body off the floor. With five seconds  
left, her arms collapsed, and Erika lay still as the count expired. 
 
The crowd was on its feet cheering and pounding their steins as  
Sharon raised her arms in victory. As Erika's handlers rolled her  
over and revived her, Sharon went over and helped her to her feet.  
Seeing tears welling up in her eyes, Sharon took Erika in an  
embrace that touched the normally stoic Germans. In a gesture of  
sportsmanship that caused a new round of cheers, Sharon grabbed  
Erika's arm and raised it with her own. 
 
Looking into her watering eyes, Sharon saw Erika for what she truly  
was. Far from being the blonde haired Valkyrie who had entered the  
ring, she was now just a twenty two year old kid who had just  
suffered her first loss. 
 
"Don't take it so hard. You're one of the best opponents I've ever  
fought. Nobody, not even Matt Dyson, lasted twelve rounds with me." 
 
Wiping a bloody tear from her eye, Erika said in a heavy German  
accent, "Thank you vor your kind words. You are by var the best  
opponent I ever faced. And if you don't mind me saying so, I hope to  
be as good as you vone day." 
 
"You speak English?" 
 
"Ja. I was in your country vor a year as an exchange student." 
 
"If you're up for it, why don't we go out for a couple of beers  
tonight?" 
 
"You, you really vwant to?" 
 
"You bet." 
 
A smile returned to Erika's face. 
 
"Then vwhy wait." 
 
She snapped something at her manager, and he hurried off and returned  
with two large steins of warm German lager. The two combatants  
raised their steins in a salute and clinked them together before  
downing them in front of the crowd who were chanting the German  
equivalent of "Chug! Chug! Chug!" 
 
Lowering her empty stein and rubbing her jaw, Sharon said, "If it  
makes you feel any better, I think you broke my jaw." 
 
Smiling even more, Erika replied, "Ja, it does make me eel better." 
 
As they celebrated an epic fight, the crowd parted like the red sea  
as a blonde giant strode up to Sharon and Erika. 
 
In a booming voice he said, "I am Hans." 
 
Without missing a beat, Sharon said, "And I am Franz." 
 
Some of the listening crowd who understood the reference started to  
laugh. Hans reddened.  
 
Jamming a huge finger in her chest, he said, "You, little girl. You  
American champion? Americans are vweak little girly men who can't  
keep their vwomen in line. You go home now before I show you vwhat a  
real man is like." 
 
As he emphasized his last point with another poke between her  
breasts, Sharon grabbed the finger and bent his wrist back suddenly.  
Yanking down, not really caring if she broke his finger or not, she  
drove Hans to his knees. 
 
"Who the hell invited you?" Sharon asked. 
 
Hans sputtered, "I vwill kill you for this!"  
 
"Don't worry pal, you'll get your shot. And you'll wish you hadn't." 
 
Erika smashed her stein across the back of his head, rendering Hans  
unconscious. Sharon released her hold and let him slump to the floor. 
 
"He is, how do you say it in America? A vucking asshole?" 
 
Sharon laughed, "That's exactly how we say it." 
 
Sharon was feeling very good now. She had come to Germany to face a  
challenge and win some money. But she now realized that she had won  
something far more valuable. She had won a friend. 
 
 
Next up: Sharon shows Hans vwhat a little girly girl is capable of  
when she's pissed. 


FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723