FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723  

              THE PRIZEFIGHT XIX: The Road Home
              ---------------------------------

It had been two sleepless days since Erika's adopted family had 
nearly been wiped out in the final confrontation between Sharon and 
Lori, and things were still looking grim. Erika's fianc# Jack was in 
the best shape. He had been shot in the leg by Lori's manager to get 
Sharon's attention. He had also been shot in the back when he had 
taken a bullet meant for Erika. Fortunately, it had missed hitting 
any vital organs. He was in stable condition and the doctors 
expected a full recovery.

Sharon's husband Bob was in more serious condition. He had been shot 
in the chest and the bullet was lodged near his heart. He had been 
in and out of surgery, and the doctors were unsure of his prognosis.

Sharon herself had been in a coma when she was admitted. She had 
suffered dozens of lacerations and contusions, along with some 
internal injuries in her fight with Lori, but none of them life 
threatening. Her real problems had begun when Lori had broken 
Sharon's ribs. One of them had punctured a lung. Doctors speculated 
that the combined shock created by her injuries and blood loss had 
put her in the coma, but they had no idea if and when she would come 
out of it.

So a bleary eyed Erika had been sitting and waiting for news. Jack 
had been conscious for a few minutes, and she had been allowed to see 
him briefly. She had also called Sharon's family and informed them 
of the tragedy without revealing the exact circumstances. Sharon's 
father had flown out immediately and had been waiting with her ever 
since.

The next day things were looking brighter with the dawn. The doctors 
had finally removed the bullet from Bob. They also reported that 
Sharon had come out of her coma and was now merely sleeping. They 
would all be in the hospital for a few more weeks, but they were all 
expected to recover.

After seeing that they were going to be OK, Sharon's father 
suggested that Erika return to Chicago and look after things until 
they were released. Erika said good-bye to them and flew back. There 
was no lack of things to do. She took care of Sharon and Bob's house 
and business. Without them, she took it upon herself to manage her 
own career. 

Jack was released after two weeks and returned home. Since he was 
unable to continue his work down at the youth center, Erika filled 
in for him. Sharon and Bob were both doing well, but still had a 
while to go before they were released, so Erika packed them a care 
package and went out for a visit. Sharon was the first to ask about 
the house.

"So Erika, is everything OK at home?"

"Vwell, I have been keeping up zee grounds. Everything is fine 
except for a little damage to the furniture."

"How'd the furniture get damaged?"

"My dogs vwere chewing on it."

Sharon bit her lip as she asked "What were your dogs doing in the 
house?"

Erika looked a bit sheepish as she replied, "I vwas lonely."

Sharon couldn't get angry at an answer like that. Not to mention the 
fact that those dogs had saved her life. The least she could offer 
them was a few sticks of furniture. Besides, as soon as she got 
Erika married off to Jack, her and her pack of wolves would be his 
problem. 

Changing the subject, she asked, "Have you been in touch with the 
Board?"

Erika brightened up as she answered, "Ja, zey called me und zey 
offered me a title shot. Vwe negotiated, und came to an agreement."

Sharon smacked her forehead and said, "That's just wonderful. The 
poor girl is going to be fighting the champion for less than what 
the Indians were paid for Manhattan."

Erika looked a bit offended.

"Oh, I didn't know zee Indians vwere paid more zan..."

She mentioned a figure. Bob and Sharon looked stunned.

"Are those American dollars?" Bob asked.

"Ja, und I locked in zee value according to zee international 
monetary fund at zee time vwe made zee deal."

"Hmm, that's not a bad idea. I would have never thought of doing 
that." Bob mulled.

"That's more money than the circuit ever paid me!" Sharon exclaimed.

"Und it should be enough to pay you for my contract, vwith enough 
left over for my vwedding."


Bob and Sharon flew back to Chicago a few weeks later. They took a 
cab home. On the way back, they were discussing Erika.

"She's the luckiest woman in the world. But she gets it from other 
people. Kind of like a luck vampire. And in case you hadn't noticed, 
we're the closest victims."

"Come on Sharon. Give the girl some credit. She did a hell of a job 
negotiating her own fight. And remember, it was her and her dogs 
that found Lori's warehouse."

"Yea, I guess I owe her. I'm worried though. She's been in charge of 
the house for over a month. What do you think we're going to find?"

"Best case, a smoking crater in the ground. Worst case, a smoking 
crater in the ground and a line of people waiting to sue us."

The cab pulled up in front of their large country house and they got 
out. The garage door was open and two large crates were visible 
inside.

"The house looks suspiciously intact," Bob noted.

"Those crates have air holes," Sharon observed.

"It looks like some work has been done here. Somebody painted the 
trim and fixed that gutter."

"I suppose it's too much to hope that those crates arrived empty."

They entered the house and started looking around.

"The house is clean," Sharon said swiping a finger over a table top.

"I don't see any overdue bills," Bob said as he checked the mail.

"The food in the refrigerator is fresh."

"There's some new furniture in the living room. Very nice."

"Look at that wallpaper. It looks like what we were planning on 
putting up."

Bob and Sharon were looking worried.

"Erika sold the house," Sharon said.

"No doubt about it."

Erika came bounding through the door. She was wearing a plain pair 
of sweaty gray warm-ups. She nearly knocked them over with a big 
bear hug.

"Vwelcome home!"

"What happened to our house?" Sharon asked 

"I vwas all alone und needed something to do so, I fixed zings up a 
bit."

"You been working out?" Sharon asked.

"Every day I am running eight miles, und I have added five pounds of 
muscles." Erika replied with a smile.

"Who are you, and what did you do with Erika?"

"You are such a kidder."

Erika bounded up the stairs. Sharon was frowning.

"Somebody snatched Erika and substituted a responsible young woman 
in her place."

"Don't worry yet babe. We still haven't visited the gym."

"Damn! I forgot to ask about those crates."

Bob drove to the gym while Sharon hunted for something amiss at home.
When he got back, Sharon was still looking worried.

"I've got good news and bad news," Bob announced.

"The good news please."

"Erika assaulted a few employees down at the gym and we're being 
sued. She hired a couple of Arnolds as replacements. They don't 
speak any English. I think they're related to her."

"Thank God something's working the way it should be. Now what's the 
bad news."

"Gym membership and revenues are up since she took over."

"Bob, I'm worried, there's something in the back yard. There's a 
half eaten side of beef and a bunch of bones. Some of them look 
human."

"So Erika was treating her dogs to some beef and bikers. They earned 
it. Remember, they saved your ass."

"I'm telling you something's wrong, I saw Erika's dogs lurking in the 
bushes. They looked scared."

Bob blinked at that.

"You lock the doors, I'll get the shotgun."

Sharon and Bob had other things on their minds that night. They had 
been cooped up in the hospital for too long, and were making up for 
lost time. After four or five good hours, Bob rolled over and went 
to sleep. Sharon determined right then and there to force him to 
workout with her until he was back up to snuff.

Around four o'clock in the morning, Sharon was woken up by the sound 
of low growling. Her eyes opened and she clutched Bob's arm. There 
were two huge black animals at the foot of the bed. The moonlight 
through the window struck one of them in the face. All Sharon saw 
were huge white teeth and glowing red eyes. Even amazons have their 
limits. Sharon screamed her head off.

Bob sat up and wrapped his arms around Sharon when he saw the 
creatures. They stood at least four feet tall at the shoulders. 

"Don't move," Bob whispered.

The lights came on and they both blinked at the brightness. Erika 
was standing in the doorway wearing a night gown. She issued some 
orders in German and the two beasts floated out of the room silent 
as ghosts.

"I am sorry," she said, "I meant to introduce you to my Dobermans." 

"Dogs," Sharon gasped, "those were dogs?"

"How the hell did they get into our bedroom?" Bob demanded.

"Zey opened the door," Erika said as if the explanation was obvious.

"You didn't ask us about getting more dogs," Sharon said.

"Zey are not more dogs. I always had zem. Zey vwere being held up by 
your customs officials. Zome nonsense about them not having the proper 
number of chromosomes to be dogs."

"But they did pass customs? They made a mistake. They're just giant, 
super intelligent dogs with the right number of chromosomes."

Erika laughed, "Ja, I paid a lot of money for zee officials to say 
zat. Do not vworry. I told zem zat you belong here und zey vwill not 
bother you again."

Sharon said, "Erika, could you come over here. I have something to 
tell you."

"If I come over there, you vwill hit me."

Erika said goodnight and closed the door.

"You didn't think you'd be able to sucker her more than twenty or 
thirty times without her catching on, did you?"

"It's always worth a shot. Bob, I don't think I can sleep."

"Neither can I," he grinned.

Sharon peeked under the covers, and said, "Ooooh, maybe those dogs 
aren't so bad, though that's a rather odd reaction."



Sharon and Erika started training together again the next day. 
Sharon could see the concern on Erika's face as she struggled to 
keep up. Sharon was concerned also. Her fight with Lori had left a 
lot of scars, and they weren't all physical. She wasn't even sure 
why she was training. She had decided in the hospital that she had 
no more reason to fight.

But even if she had doubts, her magnificent body didn't. It thrived 
on hard work. Within a month, she was as good as she had been before 
the incident. Inside of another month, it was Erika clutching her 
side. Sharon realized what her body had known all along. She wasn't 
finished yet.



Jack gave Sharon a call and invited her to lunch. He was still 
walking with a bit of a limp, but he was anticipating being back up 
to one hundred percent with a little more training. They talked a 
little about their recuperation's, but what Jack really wanted to 
talk about was Erika.

"What's really bothering you Jack? Having some second thoughts about 
Erika?"

"No, it's nothing like that. Erika's the greatest girl in the world. 
In fact, she's even better now. She's matured a lot in the last few 
months."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I hate to say it, but I'm having some problems in bed."

"Whoa there older brother! Time out. I'm not sure I want to hear 
this. Wouldn't you rather talk to Bob?"

"I was thinking about it, but it's kind of embarrassing, and he 
doesn't seem to be having any problems with you."

"What do I have to do with it?"

"Well, you're kind of like Erika."

"Be very careful with your next words Jack. You're very close to 
getting your chops busted."

"You're both very large, physical women."

"OK, I'll buy that."

"Have you and Bob ever broken a bed?"

"No, we've never broken a bed. What the hell kind of question is 
that?"

"Well Erika's broken three. I had the last one reinforced down at a 
welder's shop. And I'm between Erika and the bed she's breaking. 
She's killing me."

Jack had sought out his sister and trusted her with a serious 
problem, hoping that she could help him. Sharon laughed in his face.

Jack got angry, "You think that's so damn funny, you let Erika climb 
on top of you."

Sharon wiped a tear from her eye.

"I'm sorry Jack. I wouldn't worry about it. Erika's young and full 
of energy. She'll slow down - in about seven or eight years."

Sharon burst out in another fit of laughter as she said it.

"Gee, thanks sis. Anymore great advice?"

"Yea, be a man. Try getting on top and doing some of the work if you 
don't like the way Erika's handling things."

Jack looked offended.

"Hey, I take care of business. But after three or four times, I'm 
done. I'm not as young as I used to be. Then Erika flips me over and 
starts the second shift. That's when the bed gets broken."

Sharon raised her hand and said, "Please, I really don't want to 
hear anymore. You want some advice? I'll give you some. Bob does two 
hundred abdominal crunches and a hundred reps in the Roman chair 
every day. Erika's thirty pounds heavier than I am and a tad 
younger. So I'd suggest that you get your ass in the gym and double 
those numbers. Start running at least four miles per day. You do 
that for a month, and then you get in there and break that bed under 
her pretty little ass!"

"Actually, I was wondering if you and Bob used a water bed or 
something."

Sharon poked Jack in the chest and said, "You heard me mister. If I 
don't hear Erika complaining to me within a month, then I have no 
brother."

Sharon picked up her purse and walked away. Jack shuddered. Sharon 
sounded like she had been hanging around Erika a little too long.



Erika was still a few weeks away from her title fight. Bob had 
managed to secure a tape of the current champion. Popping it into 
the VCR, they watched his last fight. What they saw was a large, 
broad, fat man with a shaved head and no neck. He made no attempt to 
defend himself as his opponent hit him in the face. Eventually, his 
opponent ran out of steam and he pounded him into dog kibble. It 
wasn't the most stellar display of pugilistic skill they had ever 
witnessed. Bob stopped the tape.

"His name is Roy Baker. He's not a boxer. He wasn't even a circuit 
fighter. He's some freak one of the promoters saw fighting in a 
tough man competition. Rumor is that he can't be hurt. Two men have 
broken their hands on his head since he joined the circuit. Erika, 
how would you handle him?"

"Vwell, if he is just going to stand there like zat, zen I vwould 
stand in front of him und trade punches vwith him until he falls."

Sharon patted her on the head.

"It's nice to know that some things never change. How about a 
body attack?"

"It's been tried. It doesn't seem to have any effect, and it gives 
him the chance to hit you back. I think his weak point is his 
stamina. The trouble with that is, he doesn't move much."

"Hmmm, I've got an idea," Sharon said, "maybe we can make him move."



Two weeks before the fight. Erika came to Sharon with a problem. 
They had just finished their morning road work.

"I've got a question about boxing Sharon."

"Go ahead Erika. That's what I'm here for."

"Is it true zat you shouldn't have sex before a fight?"

"No, that's just an old wives tale. You go ahead and have as much 
sex as you want."

Erika shifted uncomfortably.

"I am having problems vwith your brother."

"Oh, what kind of problems?"

"He has turned into a rutting beast! Last night he broke zee bed."

"He isn't taking advantage of you is he? You tell me right now and 
I'll beat some manners into him."

"It is not like zat. He is just too... too much. I could barely get 
up for our run this morning."

"Sounds like a good problem to me."

"Ja, it vwas good the first week or two. But I vwould like him to 
slow down now before he hurts me."

"Try some foreplay."

"Vwhat is zat?"

"Zat, I mean that, is what you do before sex. You do have foreplay 
in Germany?"

Erika smiled fondly, "Ja, vwe wrestle until one of us is pinned and 
zen..."

Sharon raised her hand and said, "I don't really want to hear 
anymore. That's fine, but it won't slow him down after you've hit 
the sheets. What you need is something to keep him occupied for a 
while. Something he can play with. You need breasts."

"Vwhat!"

"You know, breasts, hooters, tits, boobs, melons. I'll bet that 
Jack doesn't play with those for more than a few minutes before 
moving on."

Sharon pointed at Erika's flat bosom. Erika didn't reply, she just 
pouted.

"On the other hand, my husband Jack spends hours playing with these."

Sharon lifted her own ripe melons and thrust them in Erika's face.

Erika didn't say another word. She just hauled off and clocked 
Sharon. Wheeling around, she stormed into the house. Sharon sat on 
the grass rubbing her jaw.



Fight night arrived and Bob and Sharon were in Erika's corner. They 
had agreed to let Jack actually attend the fight, but they had asked 
him to sit in one of the Board's VIP areas. 

Erika looked awesome. She was coming into the fight at two hundred 
and seven rock hard pounds. Erika had also been showing extra 
dedication to her ring training. She had actually been paying 
attention to everything Sharon had to teach her, not just what 
interested her. Sharon would never admit it, but she doubted that 
she could take Erika now.

The announcements were made. Erika's opponent was coming in at six 
one, three hundred and twenty four pounds. Observing the rolls of fat 
that started under his chin and went to his knees, Sharon wouldn't 
describe them as rock hard pounds. He looked exactly like the 
wrestler King Kong Bundy.

The crowd went berserk as Erika strode into the ring. A lot like how 
they used to greet me, Sharon thought. She wasn't jealous of Erika. 
She was just having difficulty with her own place in the universe as 
she passed the torch to the next generation. Bob went over their 
game plan one more time.

"OK Erika, we know he isn't going to do anything the first round. 
And we can't have the two of you just staring at each other. So go 
out there and see if you can find a weakness that his last twelve 
opponents missed."

Sharon clapped her on the back and said, "Good luck Erika. Now get 
out there and kick ass."

The bell sounded and Roy Baker waddled out to the center of the 
ring. Erika circled the man and started to throw a few jabs. True to 
form, Roy didn't try to protect his face. Seeing that he was 
inviting her to take her best shot, Erika did. She wound up and 
caught him with a beautiful right roundhouse on the point of the 
chin. The punch which would normally snap a man's head violently 
enough to scramble his brain, merely cocked his to the side a bit. 
Erika tried it a few more times. She could see that the roll of 
blubber that served him as a neck, also acted as a shock absorber.

Changing her approach, she opted for a body attack. Baker had a huge 
beer gut which looked like a soft target, but as Erika found out, it 
felt more like hitting a truck tire. He tried to stay facing her, 
but she easily circled around to his rear. The folds of fat lining 
his sides felt rubbery as she buried her fists to the wrist. Even 
his spine and the back of his neck were protected with overlapping 
layers of blubber and muscle.

The bell sounded and Erika returned to her corner. She was covered 
with a light sheen of perspiration, and a few beads of sweat were 
trickling down her forehead. Roy was sweating even more as he sat 
heavily on his stool. Droplets of sweat were squeezed from between 
folds of pasty white flesh to drip on the canvas. He looked bad, but 
then that's the way he had shown up.

"Time for plan B," Bob said. "Get him moving, and he'll probably 
keel over with a pork chop lodged in his heart."

"You can do it Erika. Get him swinging at you. You have a God given 
talent for pissing people off. Use it!"

Erika shook her head and said, "I vwill not."

"You vwon't? Vwhy not?" Sharon demanded.

"I saw your title fight with Matt Dyson. You vwon because you vwere 
the better fighter, und everyone knew it. You did not use tricks, 
und neither vwill I. I vwill beat him vwith my fists und my skills, 
even if it takes all night."

The bell rang and Erika stalked off to pound the blob for another 
round. Sharon gaped open mouth at her back.

"Sounds like something I've heard you say," Bob observed.

Erika pounded on Roy Baker for the next three rounds. And she wasn't 
doing it randomly either. She concentrated on specific areas. His 
sides, his stomach, and his eyes. So far, Baker didn't appear to 
be bothered. But Erika wasn't anywhere near giving up yet. She 
understood the physics and physiology of the ring.

Take a grown man and a twelve year old girl. Let the girl wind up 
and take her best shot. He will probably barely feel it. Make the 
girl stronger than average, and teach her how to punch. The punch 
might sting a bit, but still nothing he can't shrug off. Now give 
the girl a little more time and let her hit him fifty times in the 
same spot. At some point, the man is likely to double over and beg 
for mercy. It wasn't just a hypothetical for Erika. That's how she 
had beaten a grown man in Germany when she was twelve.

It was a principle that Sharon and Erika both shared. As women in a 
boxing match without weight classes, they couldn't start out 
expecting to be the hardest hitting person in the ring. But they 
always made sure they were better conditioned than their opponents. 
During a fight, they would try to make every punch count, and land 
more punches. And if they kept it up, they would be the hardest 
hitting person in the ring by end of the fight.

Erika was taking this principle to its extremes. Roy Baker might be 
some kind of a mutant, but he was still just flesh and blood. And 
Erika intended to prove it, preferably by spilling some on the canvas.

By round five, Erika was covered with sweat, but she wasn't 
breathing hard yet, and she felt like she could go another twenty 
rounds. Roy boy on the other hand was starting to show some strain. 
Erika had unleashed enough energy on him to demolish a house. 

Roy did something unprecedented for him in all his other fights. He 
must have been thinking the same thing as Erika, because he gave up 
on waiting for her to wear herself out and started to hit back. 
Erika had known that it could happen at any time, but she was still 
caught somewhat off guard. Roy's ham sized fist clipped the top of 
her head as she tried to duck. 

Erika wasn't hurt, but she was mad at her lack of concentration. If 
Roy expected her to back off, he was mistaken. The punch only served to 
antagonize her. Stepping in close, she plunged her fist into one of 
the large red patches that had formed on his sides. Erika had 
focused all of her power in the punch, and her fist literally 
buried itself in his gut. She actually looked like she was 
disappointed when her hand popped back out without clutching some 
intestines.

Roy on the other hand, expressed his appreciation for Erika's punch 
with a sickly gurgling sound. He seemed to go whiter than normal, 
then he dropped to his knees holding his side. Erika waited 
patiently while the count progressed. Roy took the full twenty 
before he got back up. Erika marched right up to him. He tried to 
fend her off with a series of punches that Erika contemptuously 
avoided. Ducking low, she plunged her other hand into his other 
side. Roy went down on his face moaning. The bell sounded before 
the count had expired allowing him to crawl back to his corner. 

Erika didn't even sit down during the one minute break. She just 
shuffled impatiently from side to side. The bell sounded and she 
walked to the center of the ring. Roy barely made it off his stool. 
They stared at each other for about ten seconds. Erika decided that 
he wasn't coming out of his corner, so she went to get him. 

Roy used his fists to defend his corner, but he just didn't have any 
boxing skill. He was also weakening significantly. Erika stopped 
dodging his blows. She stood in front of him and took the best of 
what he had left. Roy rocked her with his right hand. Erika 
straightened back up in time to take a left. Roy launched another 
right. Erika caught his arm by the wrist and stopped it dead. Roy 
desperately swung his left at her. She caught that one also in her 
iron grip. Roy Baker's arms were trapped. Erika started to slowly 
force his arms back to his side. Roy struggled to prevent it, but 
Erika had her full strength, while his was nearly spent.

When she had forced his arms down, Erika released them, stepped 
back, and started to rip her fists into the center of his huge beer 
gut. She hit him about half a dozen times before she was forced to 
step aside or be crushed by his falling body. Roy landed hard and 
started to convulse. He tried to get back up, but a beached whale in 
Kansas would have stood a better chance of making it. With a massive 
series of heaves, he emptied the contents of his stomach on the 
canvas. The count reached twenty and Erika raised her arms in 
victory.

"Another pretty win," Sharon noted.

"Hey, you can't blame that on her. And she won exactly like she said 
she would, no tricks." 

"I'm sorry Bob. I don't want to rain on Erika's parade, but ever 
since she started fighting for us, it seems more like the circus 
than the circuit."



That night, they went out to celebrate. Erika seemed relatively 
restrained. Sharon on the other hand was hell on wheels. She got 
involved in three fights that night, including a nasty scuffle with 
four night club bouncers. By the end of the night, everybody was 
looking at her strangely. When Bob got her back to their room, he 
asked her about it.

"What was that all about?"

"I guess I'm feeling a bit weird about this whole situation. I'm 
still in my prime, and I'm sitting on the sidelines watching. I've 
done it all, and now I'm wondering what the hell I should be doing 
with my life."

"How about settling down with me and raising a bunch of ass kicking 
children?" Bob asked.

Sharon blinked and looked at him for a minute.

"I can't say I've ever thought about it before. I think I'd like 
that, but I'm still going to need to do something more than changing 
diapers. I was OK while I was training Erika, but I can see that she 
doesn't need me any longer. You should know better than anybody how 
difficult it is to live a normal life after getting used to putting 
your ass on the line."

Bob knew. His own fighting career had been cut short by a motorcycle 
accident. 

"Sharon, I knew this day was coming for the last two years. I've 
done a lot of thinking about it and I think you should..."

Sharon listened as he explained his suggestion.

"Do you really think so?" she asked.

"No doubt about it. I know somebody who can sign you up right now. 
Just say the word."

"Lets do it!" she exclaimed.

"You want me to get you signed up?"

"Actually, I meant that we should start on those children tonight. 
You can sign me up tomorrow."

Bob grinned and took her to bed. There would be plenty of time for 
her to start planning her new career tomorrow - late tomorrow.



With Erika's title came money. Enough money to purchase her contract 
back from Bob and Sharon, get married, and move out. The wedding was 
to be a large affair with hundreds of guests from both the United 
States and Germany. With a week to go, Erika disappeared. The last 
thing she said was something about getting a wedding present for 
Jack. Two days later, she called and confirmed she would be at the 
rehearsal. 

Jack, Sharon, and Bob waited impatiently outside the church. As they 
stood on the sidewalk, Erika came roaring up in her Ferrari. She 
jumped out wearing a loose fitting pair of shorts and a tight tank 
top. Bob and Jack stared open-mouthed, Sharon gasped like a fish.

Sharon was the first to recover and ask, "What the hell have you 
done to yourself?"

"It's a vwedding present for Jack. Do you like zem?" Erika asked 
Jack.

Jack didn't say a word, instead, he reached out as if hypnotized, to 
touch the brand new D-cup sized breasts that were spilling out of 
Erika's now too tight top. 

Erika smacked his hands and admonished, "Zey are for after the 
vwedding."

Finally, Jack croaked, "Thanks honey, I like them a lot. They're 
just what I always wanted."

"I'm glad you like zem. It vwas Sharon's idea."

"What!" Sharon exploded.

"Remember you told me that Jack needed something to play with."

All eyes were on her as she sputtered, "I wasn't serious."

Bob started laughing at wife and got a hard shot in the ribs for his 
trouble.

Jack had a big smile on his face as he said, "Gee, thanks sis, this 
is a lot better than the set of china I'd thought we'd be getting."

With Erika's new breasts, her wedding dress needed some major 
alterations. Erika enjoyed playing with her new assets, flexing her 
massive pects and causing her breasts to jump around under her top. 
Sharon frowned as one of Erika's nipples popped out. She giggled and 
tucked it back in. 

"I hope you don't intend to do that during the ceremony," Sharon 
said with obvious disapproval.

"Maybe," Erika replied mischievously.



As it happened, the wedding was picture perfect. To Sharon's relief, 
Erika behaved with all the grace and dignity of a fine young woman. 
The reception was a different story though. 

Sharon pulled Bob aside and said, "Will you look at her family. 
There isn't a woman here under a hundred and fifty pounds."

"Or a man less than two hundred," Bob added.

"And this food. You get two choices, whole animals and animals 
ground into wurst. Have these people ever heard of vegetables?"

"And the beer. I thought Erika made a mistake when she ordered 
fifty kegs. Now I'm thinking she didn't order enough."

Erika had brought all of her living relatives over from Germany to 
attend her wedding. They were now making pigs of themselves in the 
large backyard of Bob and Sharon's country estate. Sharon's family 
was also in attendance. While not quite as large as the members of 
Erika's clan, they didn't produce many lightweights either. The two 
families weren't mixing very much, primarily because of the language 
barrier. But they did seem to be getting along and having a good 
time. That is, until the incident.

Erika wandered over to the Moore side of the gathering with a couple 
of her mule sized relatives trailing behind her. She approached 
John, Sharon's oldest and largest brother. Like all of the Moores, 
John had been a boxer. He was also known as having the shortest fuse 
in the family. 

So it came as no surprise what happened when Erika said, "John, I 
vwonder if you could help us out. My family has questions about zee 
Moores."

"What kind of questions?"

"Zey vwonder if zee Moore family is good enough to marry with us."

"A little late to wonder about that, isn't it?"

"Zis is the first time zey are meeting you, und they think zat I 
have married poorly."

John wandered up next to one of Erika's kin. A three hundred pound 
brute who looked like he had been plowing fields with his face. 

Face to face with him, he asked, "Well what can I do to show them 
that you married just fine, that maybe you even made your family 
better."

Thirty seconds later, the reception had degenerated into a riot. 
Shotzes and Moores, males and females, all fighting on the lawn. 
Punches were exchanged. People were rolling around wrestling on the 
grass in their best clothes. And flitting around above it all, like 
an angel of anarchy, was Erika in her white dress.

After a few minutes, the fight died down. Men and women sat on the 
lawn in their ripped clothes panting and sweating. Within a few 
more minutes, there was an exchange of back slapping and beers. The 
two families were now one, united by the international language of 
friendly combat.

Sharon brushed herself off. She had personally knocked out three of 
Erika's cousins. She had been doing well until the first cousin had 
shaken her blows off and tackled her from behind. She was smeared 
with blood, mud, and grass stains. Her hair was a mess and her 
favorite dress was ruined. She limped over to where Erika was 
brushing an imaginary piece of lint off her dress. 

"Erika, did you just tell my brother John that your cousin thought 
the Moores weren't good enough for the Shotzes?"

"Ja, I am sorry about zat. My family has strange ideas und I am sure 
zey vwill apologize for zis."

Erika made an announcement in German, and the Shotzes shook hands and 
saluted the Moores with their mugs.

Erika announced in English, "Zee Shotzes apologize to zee Moores und 
vwelcome you as part of our family."

There was scattered cheering amongst the crowd.

Sharon pointed to a nondescript man sitting down applying a bag of 
ice to a black eye.

"Do you see that man?" she asked.

"Ja."

"He isn't part of the family. I hired him to work at the wedding."

"I am sorry zat innocent bystanders were hurt."

"I hired him as an interpreter because nobody in my family speaks 
German." Erika was looking a little worried as Sharon continued, "He 
just told me something interesting. He says that you told your 
family that the Moores were worried about the Shotzes not being good 
enough. And I'd be very interested in what you just told your 
family. What did she say Fritz?"

Removing his ice bag, he said, "She told her family that the Moores 
were appologizing for starting the fight."

Sharon glared at Erika. Erika smiled weakly.

"Vwell, it did bring the families closer together."

"Time we got closer Erika. Have some cake!"

Sharon charged in and tackled the German girl around the waist. 
Erika went flying backwards into the five foot tall wedding cake 
with Sharon on top of her. The two amazons rolled around slipping 
and sliding in the thick icing. The crowd formed a circle around the 
women as they wrestled on the ground. The video crew Erika had hired 
didn't miss a minute as they fought like wildcats.

And when it was all over. When the two half-naked amazons were 
sitting on the ground covered with cake, as Erika rubbed her back 
where she had landed on the plastic figure of the groom, Sharon had 
to admit that Erika was right. They were closer than ever.



Not everybody was thrilled with Erika's good fortune. Thousands of 
miles away, a woman was exercising as she meditated on the German 
girl. With a grunt, she completed her last squat with four hundred 
pounds. Though they had never met in person, they where well aware 
of each other's existence. Doing a handstand, she spread her legs 
and rotated her body until she was positioned in a full split 
straddling two chairs. She had even invited Erika to a face to face 
meeting. Picking up a pair of thirty pound dumbbells, she started to 
press them overhead. Erika had rudely ignored her. Sweat rolled down 
her naked body and dripped from her freakishly developed thighs as 
she struggled for one last rep. It was time for her to re-issue her 
invitation. The dumbbells fell to the floor with a loud clang as her 
arms failed her. Time that they met face to face for the first - and 
last time.



              THE PRIZEFIGHT XX: French Toast
              -------------------------------

Erika strode into the huge ballroom and onto the red carpet in the 
center. Formally dressed men politely applauded her as she took her 
place. Her long blonde hair spilled onto the golden tanned skin of 
her naked back. Her massive and functional looking musculature 
combined with her recently installed softball sized breasts drew 
lustful stares. She was wearing white spandex shorts which hugged 
her muscular legs. A white sash was tied around her rock hard waist. 
A pair of shiny black leather boots graced her feet. Not how Erika 
would have chosen to dress, but she had to flexible if she wanted to 
fight here - and she did want to fight here.

Erika was at a mansion in France, about thirty miles outside of 
Paris. Erika was a professional fighter. She would be paid tonight, 
but she wasn't fighting for money. Tonight it was personal. Erika 
would be fighting for honor and vengeance. It had started two weeks 
before when Erika had received a phone call from one of her old 
trainers in Germany...



Sharon was working in her garden when she heard Erika's Ferrari 
pulling up in front. Sharon was glad it wasn't Erika's Suburban 
which she used to haul her pack of dogs around. It had been two 
months since Erika had moved in with her new husband Jack and taken 
her dogs with her. Barely enough time for the ruined landscape to be 
restored. If Sharon didn't owe her life to those dogs, she would 
have shot them a long time ago. 

Sharon saw Erika step out the back door and she looked serious. 
Sharon knew there was something wrong. Taking her gloves off, she 
got up and went to meet her. There was no exchange of pleasantries. 
Erika got right to it.

"I need to talk to you Sharon."

"Sure Erika, lets go in the kitchen."

Sharon started to make some coffee while Erika told her what was 
happening.

"Do you remember my friend Ava?"

"How could I forget a woman even stronger than yourself."

Erika had introduced Sharon to her friend Ava during their vacation 
in Germany. Ava had been in the East German sports program with 
Erika. She had been a shot putter. Later, after the wall came down, 
she had joined Erika in becoming a boxer. When Erika had left for 
America, Ava had claimed the vacated woman's heavyweight title after 
a series of brutal elimination boughts. Ava had been the strongest 
woman Sharon had ever met. During a bar fight, she had picked up a 
two hundred pound man like a child and tossed him clear over a pool 
table. Even Erika had been impressed.

"Ava is in the hospital."

"What happened?"

"She has a broken back und is partially paralyzed. Zee doctors don't 
know if she vwill recover. It happened in a fight."

Sharon held Erika's hand, and said, "I'm sorry Erika. Accidents like 
these are never easy to deal with."

"It vwas no accident. It vwas a challenge. A challenge for me. A 
challenge from Monique." Erika spat on the floor as she uttered the 
name.

Erika told Sharon the story of Monique. Monique was a French fighter 
who specialized in savate. France didn't have organized underground 
fighting circuits like America and Germany. They had the small clubs 
and promoters that could be found world wide. But the real money was 
in private fights sponsored by wealthy patrons. These fights were by 
invitation only. Street fighters dreamed of being contacted for 
these affairs where a man could win a small fortune for a few 
minutes work.

Without any real organization, there was no official French champion. 
But a few fighters were recognized as being the best in the country. 
One of these fighters was Monique. Monique had appeared suddenly on 
the scene about five years ago. She had stepped out of the crowd at 
a back alley fight to accept an open challenge to fight a local 
tough. People had thought it was a joke until the fight started. 
Monique destroyed her opponent in thirty seconds using nothing but 
her feet. Word of the fight spread like wildfire and Monique had a 
patron inviting her to participate in a match the next day. Monique 
proved that her victory had not been a fluke. Her combination of 
beauty and brutality had made her the most sought after and 
expensive fighter in the country.

Despite the fact that they occupied nearly the same status in their 
respective countries, and that many people would have loved to see a 
fight between them, Erika had never been approached to fight 
Monique. Not until last month. It was clear that the invitation had 
been triggered by Erika's winning the circuit's championship, 
considered by many to be the world championship. Erika's response 
had been simple. If you want a shot at me, join the circuit and work 
your way up the ladder.

Evidently, Erika's reply wasn't very well received by Monique, so 
she rephrased the challenge. Monique announced that she would be 
willing to fight Ava, the current German women's champion. Her 
French patrons had leapt at the chance to see Monique finally fight 
another woman, and had been willing to offer Ava whatever it took to 
make it happen. 

Ava had accepted the challenge. While strong as a bull, and a 
competent boxer, Ava didn't stand a chance against Monique's mix of 
techniques. In a ten minute fight, Monique had expertly beat Ava 
within an inch of her life. Despite the fact that she was hopelessly 
outclassed, Ava continued to get up time and time again to receive 
more punishment. Finally, she could take no more. Ava collapsed in a 
heap. It took two men to carry her off. 

As she was being led out, Monique was heard to say, "I have a 
message for your friend Erika."

With that, Monique had lashed out with a straight kick that had 
caught the defenseless German in the center of her back. The heel of 
her foot crushed three of Ava's vertebrae. The force of the blow 
knocked Ava and her two attendants to the floor. As Erika had 
observed, it had been no accident.

After Erika finished her tale, Sharon asked, "When are you going?"

"One week."

Sharon didn't try to stop her. She didn't argue with her. Because 
she knew that she be doing the same thing in Erika's position. What 
she could do was support her, and she intended to do everything in 
her power to help Erika.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that this is going to be a boxing 
match?"

Erika shook her head.

"Then we've got a lot to do. I've fought with kick fighters before, 
and it's no fun. I'll try to get you some sparring partners. Maybe I 
can scare up a savate expert. Meet me in the gym tomorrow at six. 
Oh, and by the way, did you tell Jack about this?"

"No, und he must not find out."

Sharon nodded. It would be their secret.



Monique entered from the opposite side of the room. She was a tall 
woman, matching Erika's six feet. But she wasn't nearly as muscular, 
weighing perhaps one hundred and sixty pounds compared with Erika's 
two hundred. Her shoulders and arms were toned, as was the rest of 
her upper body. Her stomach was flat as a board and rippled with 
smooth muscle. But what she lacked in upper body strength, she made 
up for in her legs, which were larger than Erika's. Her legs were 
long and incredibly strong looking. Her thighs were huge, almost 
freakishly out of proportion to the rest of her physique. Despite 
their size, they weren't blocky looking like a weight lifter's legs. 
Rather, the muscles curved gracefully towards her hips and knees, 
and bulged in the center. Her diamond shaped calves were also 
impressive, though not quite as developed as her quads.

Monique was a beautiful woman. Her raven black hair was pulled back 
from her face in a ponytail. Her features could grace the cover of 
any fashion magazine, while her full ripe breasts could make her a 
centerfold. In fact, she looked more like an oversized ballet dancer 
than a prize fighter.

Tonight, she was dressed in a tiny black leather bikini bottom that 
covered very little, and allowed her the flexibility that her art 
demanded. She demonstrated the practicality of her uniform by 
throwing a few high kicks. Grabbing each of her legs in turn, she 
pulled her knees into her chest so that her foot was over her head. 
After completing this exercise, she dropped onto the carpet in a 
full split which never failed to elicit a second round of applause 
from her admirers. Monique wasn't stretching to warm-up. She did her 
serious warm-ups in her dressing room. She was playing to the crowd. 
Monique was very sensitive to the way the men in the room reacted to 
her. It was because of their reactions that she had to destroy Erika.

Nobody could claim to know Monique. But over the years, people had 
come to some commonly held beliefs about her. First and foremost, 
Monique didn't fight for money. She demanded that she always be paid 
royally, but more as a form of recognition of her status. Secondly, 
Monique only fought men. There weren't any other women in France who 
could hope to beat her, and she never expressed any interest in 
the many suggestions that she fight one of the many capable women 
outside of the country like Sharon or Erika. Lastly, Monique thrived 
on the attention she received. She was worshipped like a goddess in 
her native France, and that's the way she wanted to keep it.

Erika's career in Germany paralleled, and in many ways surpassed 
Monique's. While this in itself didn't bother her, the attention her 
French patrons lavished on Erika did. It wasn't long before they 
were attending Erika's matches in Germany as religiously as her own. 
Monique was constantly bothered with requests to fight Erika. 

She had largely been able to ignore the situation until two things 
happened. The first was Erika's fight with the African champion. 
Monique had been slated to fight on the same night. A week before, 
her patron had informed her that her match was being canceled so 
that he could attend Erika's match in America. Canceled! Canceled 
so that he could watch the muscle bound German bitch participating 
in a freak show. The second was Erika's winning the "world 
championship". While she could dismiss it, she couldn't dismiss the 
fact that most of the men in her native country had come to believe 
that Erika was better than she was, and that was a situation she 
could no longer live with.


Six men were marched onto the carpet. Three for Erika and three for 
Monique. Each of the six had paid outrageous sums of money to be hit 
by the women. Ordinarily, Erika wouldn't have any use for these 
French fops, but it was a condition of the match, so she had been 
forced to agree. Monique was used to it. She had started the 
practice. And she wouldn't be happy if she knew that the men were 
paying three times more for Erika than herself.

As the guest, Erika went first. A small, rat faced man stood before 
her. Erika didn't know that he was the head of one of the largest 
electronics manufacturers in France, and she wouldn't have cared. The 
man smiled and stuck out his hand. Not part of the deal, thought 
Erika, as she viciously backhanded him. Before he could fall to the 
floor, she caught him again on the opposite side of the face with 
her open hand. The man dropped to the floor dazed by the blows. His 
cheeks were red and his eyes were watering. A trickle of drool ran 
down the side of his numb face. If Erika had known that he would be 
making love to his wife for the next couple of years while thinking 
about this moment, she probably would have kneed him in the groin.

It was Monique's turn. Smiling at Erika, she raised her foot in 
front of her victim. Displaying perfect balance, she stood there for 
a few seconds, her foot swaying like a cobra in front of her man's 
face. Faster than most people could see, she whipped her foot back 
and forth across his face. Her toes catching him on the cheek with 
the first pass, her heel breaking his teeth on the back swing. He 
dropped to the mat unconscious.

The first two men were lucky. They suffered a great deal of pain, 
but at least they were able to stay and watch the match. The next 
four had to be taken immediately to the hospital. Erika's next man 
stuck his jaw out and closed his eyes. Erika crouched down and 
brought an uppercut up from the floor that caught the man in the 
breadbasket and penetrated within an inch of his spine. The man 
dropped like a sack of potatoes and spasmed on the mat for a minute 
unable to breathe. He was dragged off before his condition could be 
known. Monique's man must have known what was coming, because he 
seemed to lose some of his enthusiasm. Monique stood in front of him 
launching a couple of practice side kicks at his belly, picking her 
spot. The man clenched his teeth and flexed his abs in anticipation 
of the kick. Without warning, Monique launched a roundhouse kick
that impacted on his side, just above the belt line and slightly to 
the rear. The man fell to the mat screaming and clutching his kidney 
region. Again, he was dragged off so that his wailing was still 
heard faintly as the ambulance was loading him.

The last two men seemed willing to forget the money. But they had 
paid for a service, and everyone wanted to see them get their 
money's worth. Both of them had to be pushed out onto the 
carpet as the crowd jeered them. Erika didn't hesitate. As soon as 
her man was in range, she caught him under his chin with an uppercut 
that lifted him off his feet as it broke his jaw. The man fell 
heavily, like a sack of potatoes and lay still. Monique responded in 
kind with a lightning fast side kick that caught her man in the 
center of the face and nearly flipped him in a full circle. Both men 
were dragged off the red carpet and across the marble floor. 
Monique's left a bloody streak on the white marble from his broken 
face.

With the preliminaries over with, the match was ready to start. As 
was customary, both opponents were expected to meet at the center of 
the room and shake hands like ladies. Monique smiled graciously and 
stuck her hand out. Erika grasped it and gave it a brusk shake, 
resisting the urge to crush her finger bones to pulp. Breaking it 
off quickly, the two women exchanged pleasantries. Erika was fluent 
in French, so they were able to communicate in the spirit that had 
defined the relationship between their peoples since they had come 
down from the trees.

"German whore," Monique said maintaining her smile.

Erika smiled back and replied, "French slut."

"Communist bitch."

The smile faded from Erika's face as she said, "I will break you for 
what you did to Ava."

"By the time I'm done, you'll need Ava to care for you," Monique 
growled.

"The American's have an expression. Talk is cheap, and so are you."

"A year from now, the only thing these men will remember about you, 
was how loudly you squealed."

Erika didn't respond to Monique. 

Instead, she turned to face the crowd, and asked, "Will somebody be 
good enough to lick my feet for luck?"

A dozen men literally fell over each other, scrambling like dogs 
eating out of the same dish. 

Erika allowed them to debase themselves for a full ten seconds 
before she commanded, "Enough!"

Monique turned beet red as Erika turned and said, "Your fans seem to 
like me. Perhaps I'll take a few of them home with me to clean my 
boots."

Half the men in the room immediately volunteered, while the other 
half pondered how they could get away from their wives. Monique 
trembled with rage. 

The obligatory sportsmanship out of the way, the two fighters were 
ready to engage each other. The rules were simple as the 
participants. No rounds. Last woman standing wins. 

Erika and Monique circled. Erika approached, Monique backed off and 
scuttled to one side. Erika changed direction and closed. Monique 
threw a quick side kick which scored on Erika's abs. Erika lunged 
forward and threw a jab. Monique hopped back and avoided it easily. 
She was smiling and nodding as she danced just out of range. 
Spiraling closer to the German, Monique connected with another kick 
to the midsection. Erika lunged again. Rather than backing off, 
Monique caught her with a straight kick to the chest that stopped 
her cold.

Erika frowned. Her body was hard enough to take Monique's kicks, but 
that wasn't a winning strategy. Erika hadn't had a lot of time to 
practice with Sharon's kick boxing sparring partners, but she had 
done fairly well against them. They were usually OK as long as they 
kicked. But when they tried to exchange punches with her, or Erika 
caught one of them on the ropes, it was over quickly. The problem 
here was there were no ropes. It had been made quite clear to her 
that if she drove her opponent off the carpet, she would be expected 
to retreat three paces, and allow her to step back on. And as 
Monique threw two more kicks, it was becoming fairly obvious that 
she didn't intend to try to play at fists. And from her brief 
training, Erika knew that the biggest mistake she could make was to 
try and kick back. 

Erika had to either find a weakness she could exploit with her 
fists, or wait for Monique to make a mistake. Based on the rate that 
Monique was scoring on her, she knew she couldn't afford to wait. 
Erika decided to ignore defense and rush her in an attempt to get 
into range. Darting forward, she fended off a foot with her arm and 
continued to close. Realizing what she was doing, Monique started 
moving backwards. As she got to the edge of the carpet, Monique 
threw a beautiful kick straight upwards that caught Erika under the 
chin. Erika's head snapped back, and her momentum drove Monique off 
the carpet and into the crowd. Erika shook her head and backed off. 
Monique waited until she had retreated the required distance before 
stepping back onto the carpet. 

Erika was starting to get frustrated. Monique's kick had been hard. 
Hard enough to knock most men out. Only Erika's strong neck muscles, 
and the fact that it hadn't landed quite perfectly, had saved her 
from a humiliating loss.

Erika was a little more cautious for the next few minutes, hoping 
that Monique would get overconfident and do something stupid. When 
it became clear that she was too good a fighter to rely on that 
strategy, Erika decided to try and bait her. Monique was launching 
side kicks. Erika caught most of the on her arms, but some of them 
where landing under her elbows with painful effect on her sides. 
Gradually she opened her guard up, letting her hands drift apart so 
that her arms were in a better position to protect her body. This 
left her face exposed. Erika was hoping that Monique would throw a 
high kick. Erika planned to bob to one side and let it sail over her 
shoulder. If everything worked out, Monique would be in range for a 
devastating punch.

Monique went for the bait. Erika watched as she brought her knee up 
to start the kick. As Monique's huge quads contracted bringing her 
foot snapping up, Erika started to move. Too late, she saw that she 
had miscalculated. Monique's foot was moving much quicker than she 
would have imagined possible. Monique's heel smashed her in the 
mouth and continued upwards, crunching into her nose. Erika was 
thrown onto her back, and landed hard on the thinly padded floor. 

Erika didn't need to feel the warm flow of blood on her cheeks to 
know her nose was broken. The taste of blood in her mouth was the 
result of a split upper lip. But the worst sensation was the sound 
in her ears. The sound of the crowd cheering Monique. The sound of 
Monique taunting her to get up.

"Is that how you got your championships? On your back. Only one of 
us can be the world's best, and now everyone will know that it has 
always been me. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Even German bitches 
don't go down that easily. Get up and we'll finish your education 
bitch!"

Erika got back up. While there was no count out, the fight could be 
declared over if the judges decided that she was unable or unwilling 
to continue. Monique had backed off from her fallen opponent as the 
patron's rules decreed. But the minute Erika reached her feet, she 
sprinted in.

Monique threw a series of kicks at Erika as she tried to back away. 
Erika fended most of them off with her arms, but enough got through 
to start to hurt her. One particularly hard kick caught her in the 
stomach. Monique's heel dug in and Erika's breath whooshed out. She 
felt like she had been kicked by a mule. Her own attempts to hit 
back continued to meet with failure. Finally, out of a growing sense 
of desperation, Erika attempted the maneuver that she had sworn to 
avoid. She threw a kick of her own at Monique.

Though never having trained in any martial art except boxing, she 
could still launch a simple and powerful side kick. As soon as it 
was on its way, she knew she had made a major mistake. As her foot 
flew up in the air leaving her standing on one foot and vulnerable, 
Monique twisted past the kick to get behind Erika's outstretched 
leg. Countering, Monique kicked Erika in the lower back, her toe 
digging in deeply just inches from her spine. Erika cried out from 
the pain and found herself paralyzed for a few seconds as Monique 
followed up with another kick to the back of her thigh. Erika's legs 
buckled and she fell to her knees. Though technically illegal, nobody 
intervened as Monique gracefully executed a spinning back kick that 
whacked Erika's head like a golf ball on a tee. Erika was flung 
lengthwise onto the carpet and lay still for a moment.

The crowd clapped and cheered as Monique raised her arms in victory. 
Erika didn't know where she was or what she was doing, but her 
instincts and her stubborn nature prodded her to roll over and get 
back to her feet. Monique beamed as Erika staggered around 
drunkenly. In a masterful display of destructive skill, she whipped 
her feet across Erika's face. First right, then left, then the right 
again. Erika staggered backwards. Monique allowed Erika to escape a 
few paces towards the edge of the carpet. Then she took three 
running steps and leapt through the air executing a flying kick 
that impacted on Erika's sternum. Erika literally flew through the 
air and into the crowd, knocking down half a dozen spectators who 
had the good fortune to break her fall. 

Monique was pleased as Erika got back up and instinctively 
approached her attacker like a plant drawn to the sun. Erika was 
still functioning enough to throw a few weak punches which fell far 
short of their mark. With the most brutal kick of the fight, Monique 
sent her foot flying upwards to land toe first under Erika's left 
breast. Erika's tit was ripped upwards, deforming unnaturally from 
the kinetic energy, and actually stretched to smack her in the 
chin. It snapped back like a rubber band, bouncing a few times 
before it settled. It was now drooping noticeably lower than her 
right breast. Erika clutched at her wounded mammary with both hands. 
Monique took the opportunity to crow some more.

"Poor Erika. Did I break your gaudy plastic tit? Don't worry, it 
would look better on a woman anyway. I guess we know who's the 
better fighter now, don't we? Let's show everyone who's the better 
boxer."

Monique raised her fists and closed with Erika. Flicking out 
lightening fast jabs, she set Erika's head gyrating on her neck. 
Seeing that Erika was in no condition to respond, she got bolder, 
throwing harder, better aimed punches, that inflicted further damage 
on Erika's battered face. While the French woman didn't have nearly 
the punching power of Erika, she could still hit harder than most 
men. Erika's features disintegrated into a bloody pulp. Turning her 
attention to Erika's blood spattered chest, Monique played with 
Erika's breasts like punching bags. Though Erika was being battered, 
Monique hadn't hit her with any of her brain scrambling blows for a 
few minutes, and she was beginning to recover some of her mental 
faculties. Half blinded by blood and swelling, Erika threw her arms 
around her opponent's shoulders. Monique wrapped her arms around 
Erika's back and patted her like a small child.

"There, there, Erika. You rest. I'll do all the work."

Locking her grip behind Erika's neck, Monique rammed her knees into 
Erika's midsection. Erika's feet were lifted off the floor as she 
struggled to escape. The men in the crowd could see Erika's back 
arch as Monique's blows landed with hollow thuds. Finally, Monique's 
massive legs got tired. Shifting back, she grasped Erika's hair and 
pulled her up to face her. 

Erika was a mess. Her face was cut and swollen. Both her eyes were 
nearly swollen shut. Her breasts were bruised, and the left hung 
flat and limp, like a deflated balloon. Her stomach was covered with 
ugly red and purple patches. Both fighters were covered with blood, 
all of it Erika's. 

Holding Erika's head up and examining her handiwork, Monique asked, 
"Who's the better fighter German bitch?" 

Erika didn't answer, so Monique slapped her with her free hand.

"Answer me when I talk to you!"

Defiance in her eyes, Erika spit a bloody wad in Monique's face. 
Outraged, Monique wrapped both hands around the back of Erika's head 
and yanked it down to meet her rising knee. With the dull crack of 
bone meeting bone, Monique released Erika to crumple to the floor. 
Again she raised her arms in victory. But rather than the cheers she 
had received before, she heard surprised murmuring and saw amazed 
stares. Turning around, her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Erika 
was standing behind her with her fists partially raised. 

Monique was angry again. How dare this bitch continue to defy her? 
She had already been punishing her for half an hour. How could the 
bitch even stand? Stalking over to the stupid Hun, she started to 
rain punches on her ruined face. 

"Get back down you fucking bitch!" she screamed.

But Erika was in no mood to go down again. Displaying the reflexes 
that had made her a champion, Erika snatched up Monique's right 
wrist in an iron grip. 

Monique looked shocked, and more that a little frightened as Erika 
sputtered between bloody teeth, "Its your turn now frog."

Erika's sledgehammer right flew into the center of Monique's face. 
Monique thrashed and tried to hit back, but Erika had waited too 
long, and she wouldn't be denied. Too close to kick, Monique tried 
to knee Erika in the crotch. Erika ignored the pain and plunged her 
fist into Monique's gut. Monique's relatively thin abs just weren't 
prepared to receive such a package. Gasping like a fish, she tried 
to fold, but Erika held her by her wrist like a puppet on a string. 
It was her face dissolving now as Erika pummeled her with raw 
knuckles. Feeling Monique's wrist bone snap from the violent 
twisting, Erika released it. Before Monique could drop to the floor, 
Erika punted her head like a soccer ball, flipping her onto her back. 

Backing off, Erika let Monique get back up. As she charged in, 
Monique threw a defensive kick that nailed Erika in the right tit. 
Erika kept rolling right over her, and they both tumbled to the 
blood and sweat soaked carpet. 

They both got up at the same time. Grabbing Monique's shoulders, 
Erika head butted her in the face. Monique screamed in pain as blood 
dribbled from her nose. Pushing her away, Erika ripped her fists 
into Monique's perfect tits, hard enough to crack the ribs 
underneath. Lowering her sights, Erika tattooed her lower ribs and 
stomach. Monique turned and tried to run, giving Erika the 
opportunity to pursue and hit her in the kidneys before she could 
escape. Monique screamed like a little girl as she fell to her 
knees. 

Walking around in front of her, Erika stopped and asked, "Who is the 
better fighter?"

Monique didn't answer, so Erika smacked her across the mouth.

Again she asked, "Who is the better fighter, slut?"

Bloodied and bruised nearly as badly as Erika, overwhelmed by waves 
of agony from her internal injuries, wanting nothing more than to 
crawl away from her German opponent, Monique whispered, "You are."

Erika bent down and locked her hands on Monique's tits. Biceps 
bulging, she yanked the French woman to her feet. Monique squealed 
and tears ran down her face as she felt the connective tissue in her 
breasts tear. 

"Say it louder," Erika demanded, digging her fingers in deeper.

Monique wailed, "You're the better fighter Erika."

Nodding, Erika released her grip and unleashed a jaw breaking 
roundhouse that spun Monique to the floor where she lay holding her 
tits and sobbing. The judges acknowledged the submission, and Erika 
raised her arms in victory. The crowd which had been silently 
watching the drama, exploded in cheers for the heroic blonde. Erika 
posed for them a few minutes, not for their approval, but because 
she wanted her image to haunt Monique in the eyes of her patrons. 

Erika knew that she was hurt badly, but she refused help. Slowly 
walking towards the room's main exit, she made her way towards a 
waiting ambulance. Hearing a commotion behind her, Erika spun around 
to see Monique arcing towards her with a flying kick designed to 
catch her from behind. Monique's foot landed squarely on her thick 
upper abs. Erika reflexively wrapped her hands around Monique's 
ankle as she was driven back two steps. Monique managed to land on 
her other foot as Erika absorbed the force of the blow. Erika 
straightened up and looked Monique right in the eyes as she tucked 
her leg under her arm, trapping her.

Without smiling she said, "You shouldn't have done that to Ava, and 
you especially shouldn't have tried it on me." 

"P.. p.. please let go," Monique stammered. 

"Too late, you cowardly bitch."

Erika raised her fist high over her head, and brought it straight 
down on Monique's right knee like the hammer of Thor. Everyone in 
the room heard the crack of the joint breaking. Monique screamed as 
she saw her leg bending in the wrong direction.

"You'll be lucky if you can beat Ava in a race now, let alone a 
fight. Did you know that Ava helped teach me the hammer throw when 
we were girls? No? Let me show you."

Erika tightly grasped Monique's ankle in both hands and slowly 
started to turn in place. Monique fell to the floor and screamed 
again as the splintered bones in her knee joint started to grind 
together. Erika continued to turn, the muscles in her arms knotting 
as Monique's back started to lift off the floor. Monique tried to 
grab at her broken right leg as it stretched inches longer than her 
left. When Monique's back had risen six inches off the floor, Erika 
grunted and heaved with all the strength of her magnificent upper 
body. Monique sailed through the air ten feet before abruptly 
hitting a marble column and coming to rest at its base like a rag 
doll.

Erika stood there for a minute watching, but Monique wasn't moving. 
Everyone cleared out of Erika's way as she turned and continued her 
interrupted march out of France. 



Sharon knelt by Erika's bed in the German hospital she had 
transferred to. Though her injuries where serious, Erika's youthful, 
tank-like body was recovering at a record pace. What she was mostly 
worried about was her appearance. If her husband Jack got a look at 
her in her present condition, he'd get hysterical. Her face was a 
mass of bandages. Her left breast implant had been ruptured and 
needed to be replaced.

Sharon had ditched her own husband Bob, telling him that Erika had 
invited her to a girls only tour of Europe. The doctors said that 
she might be able to leave in another week, allowing the women to 
travel to the countryside and visit with Erika's relatives while she 
finished recuperating.

"Erika, I know how traumatic an experience like this can be. I've 
been in more than a few fights like the one you were in, some 
better, some worse."

Erika shuddered. She knew Sharon wasn't exaggerating.

"So I'd like to know if you're going to be OK."

"Ja Sharon, I'll be OK. I did not ask for zis fight. I vwas forced 
into it. I vwill continue to fight on zee circuit, und hopefully I 
vwill not meet anybody like Monique again."

Sharon hoped that Erika was right, but she wasn't optimistic. She 
knew from experience that there were a lot of people like Monique 
out there, and the more successful you were, the more of them you 
attracted. Erika had been lucky up until now. But what she was 
really worried about, was Monique showing up again like a bad penny. 

Erika must have seen it on her face, because she said, "Monique vwas 
bad, but she's no Lori. She vwon't be coming back."

"I hope you're right," Sharon shuddered. 

"I know I'm right. But enough of Monique. She's history. Just before 
you got here, I received un invitation for tea."

"Tea?"

"Ja, tea in London with Lisa Hawthorne."

"The name sounds familiar. Who is she?"

"She's the English vwoman's boxing champion, und my next opponent."

"Opponent? Are you insane? You can barely stand."

Erika casually dismissed Sharon's concerns with a wave of her hand.

"Zee match is not for another month. I'll be fine. Besides, vwhen I 
get home, Jack's going to know I was in a fight. I'd rather he 
thought it vwas vwith Lisa than Monique."

Sharon thought about it for a minute, and said, "You know, I think 
I've been hanging around you too long. Your plan is very German, and 
yet it actually makes some sense to me."

Erika tried to smile past her swollen lips.

"Vwe are sisters now. In another few years vwe vwill think exactly 
alike."

"Vwe vwill not! I mean, vwe vwon't! Dammit! Quit smiling at me."



Next: Sharon and Erika meet Lisa, The British Bomber.



            THE PRIZEFIGHT XXI: Lisa the British Bomber
            -------------------------------------------


Sharon and Erika were having tea in Lisa Hawthorne's small, but 
comfortable London flat. Lisa was the English women's heavyweight 
boxing champion. Lisa was a large woman. Sharon estimated that she 
was about six one, and close to two hundred pounds. An attractive 
blonde with pale skin, Lisa was actually a few years older than 
she was, which made her a generation older than the twenty four 
year old Erika. 

They had been talking now for about half an hour, and Sharon 
couldn't help but to like her. The English woman was one of the 
nicest people she had ever met in her life. Erika was just finishing 
her tale of her recent fight with Monique.


"...und the last I heard, she vwas still in traction."

"Well I can't say I blame you for what you did to her. Monique is 
a beast. It's women like her that give female fighters a bad name. 
She deserved a good thrashing. But I'm glad to see that you've
returning to real boxing. Your retirement caused quite a stir a few 
years back. I understand the attraction that those type of fights 
offer, but quite frankly, we need women like yourself representing 
our sport in public."

Both Sharon and Erika actually felt a bit sheepish at Lisa's 
comment. Women's boxing had been exploding in popularity in Europe, 
and more recently in the United States. But the women were still 
accorded far less respect than the men, and their purses were 
ridiculously small considering that they were often taking more 
punishment than their male counterparts. And while Sharon and Erika 
had made millions fighting for a privileged few, Lisa had been 
plugging along for years, working a full time job to support her 
boxing career. Only recently had women's purses grown large enough 
to justify her fighting for a living. 

Lisa and Erika were slated to fight a ten round match the following 
week. They were both members of the International Women's Boxing 
Federation. Lisa had been one of the organization's charter members, 
and had stuck with it for the last ten years, becoming one of the 
most respected names in women's boxing. Erika had joined when she 
had started out in Germany a few years later. Though she hadn't 
boxed in the IWBF for a number of years, she still held a relatively 
high rank due to the fact that she had been the former German 
women's heavyweight champion. Many people had speculated that she 
would have been world champion, if not for her sudden retirement 
from the ring. Erika hadn't actually retired. She had joined the far 
more lucrative underground fighting circuit where she had run into 
Sharon. 

Continuing, Lisa said, "And congratulations on your success Sharon. 
You've made quite a splash for a newcomer. I'd wager that your 
record isn't a true reflection of your experience."

Sharon didn't reply, she just smiled and sipped her tea. Erika on 
the other hand, was shocked.

"You're in the IWBF?" Erika asked.

"Yep, Bob signed me up a couple of months ago. Just a little 
something to keep me busy," Sharon answered.

"If that's just a hobby for you, I'd hate to see what'd happen if 
you took it seriously," Lisa said.

"Vwhy? Vwhat has she been up to?" asked a confused Erika.

"Why, Sharon's now ranked number two in the States. And she's slated 
to fight for the title next month. But I'm surprised you didn't know 
that. Isn't Sharon your trainer?"

Erika glared at Sharon as she responded, "Ja, but she obviously has 
been keeping secrets from me."

"It's no secret. You just don't follow the sport."

"Yanks are full of surprises. I for one am looking forward to 
watching you fight next week," said Lisa.

Erika's head was spinning as she asked, "Sharon's fighting next vweek?"

"She's on our under card. She'll be fighting the Irish champion. 
Please take it easy on her. She's a good girl, but she leads with 
her face."

They talked for another three hours before Sharon and Erika left to 
return to their hotel. They weren't five feet from the door before 
Erika lit into Sharon.

"Vwhy the hell didn't you tell me joined the IWBF?"

"Like I said, you didn't ask. Besides, it was going to be a 
surprise. I was going to tell you when I invited you to my title 
match. Besides, how was I to know that you were going to get the 
sudden urge to join again?"

"You know vwhat zis means?"

"I think I do."

"Vwe might fight again."

"It depends how far you intend to take it."

"Vwell how far do you intend to go?"

"All the way. And you?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't thought about it."

It was at that point that Sharon was glad that she hadn't taught 
Erika everything she knew.


Fight night came, and Sharon was up first. The small, aging arena 
was uncharacteristically packed with fight fans who were waiting 
impatiently for the match to begin, having paid a couple of pounds 
for admission. All of the regulars knew something was up when they 
saw the foreigners. The first ten rows were filled with well dressed 
men and women from around the world, acting like they were attending 
a world championship.

The regulars were puzzled, but Sharon knew exactly who they were. 
They were fans of Erika and herself from the circuit. She recognized 
some of the faces from her many fights. And they were getting a 
bargain tonight. A circuit card featuring their current and former 
champions would probably bring in a minimum of ten thousand per seat.

Sharon's opponent was the Irish champion with a record of ten and 
one. She was a heavyset girl with red hair and freckles. She was a 
few inches shorter and a few pounds heavier, than herself.

The bell rang and the Irish girl came out swinging. Sharon didn't 
throw any punches, she just caught the incoming blows on her gloves. 
Her punches were hard, all of them potential knockout blows, but the 
Irish girl was swinging wildly. Sharon studied her opponent a little 
more closely. Was the girl even looking? Sharon flicked a slow jab 
to find out. Her punch connected, leaving the girl shaking her head.

Sharon was stunned. How the hell had this girl compiled a ten and 
one record and won a championship? Well Lisa had told her to take it 
easy on her, and Sharon intended to. With a quick left-right 
combination, Sharon set up a hard left uppercut that dropped the 
girl like a bad habit. The crowd applauded Sharon's brief display of 
boxing skill.

The Irish girl's trainers didn't even wait for the ten count to 
expire as they piled through the ropes. As they turned her over, 
Sharon frowned. The girls face was covered with blood emanating from 
her nose and a cut over her right eye. She had only hit her four 
times. The Irish girl must have skin like tissue paper.

Unfortunately, women's boxing was still a relatively new sport, and 
the divisions were still being sorted out. Sharon hoped they would 
get their acts together soon. Mismatches like this were bad for both 
the sport and the participants. 

Sharon thought about it as she hung around the ring to wish Lisa and 
Erika good luck. As they arrived, Sharon knew that Lisa would need 
it more. Lisa was dressed in white trunks and a white tank top, 
while Erika was wearing a brief black top and gold trunks. They were 
both physically about the same size, but where Erika's entire upper 
body was thickly muscled, Lisa just looked well toned. 

Sharon didn't know how good the Brit was, or if it even mattered. 
Erika was a destroyer, and she worried that Lisa might just be the
destroyee. As Sharon thought about a way to control Erika, an idea 
came to her. Instead of returning to the dressing rooms, she stuck 
around to work Erika's corner. Erika already had two attendants when 
she arrived, but she was happy to have Sharon with her.

Just before the fight started, Sharon asked, "Think you can take 
her?"

Erika looked insulted as she replied, "With one hand tied behind my 
back."

"Care to make a bet?"

"Ja, vwhich hand do you vwant me to use?"

"Not quite what I had in mind. How many fights have you won on 
points?"

"Points? Vwhat are points?"

"That's what I thought. I'll bet you that you can't beat Lisa by 
decision."

Erika frowned at the thought.

"Und vwhat would be the bet?"

"The loser drops out of the IWBF."

Erika thought about it for a moment, and then replied simply, 
"You're on."

Sharon nodded. She was relieved. She wasn't afraid of fighting 
Erika. But Erika was family now, and it wouldn't be right. And even 
if Erika did manage to win the bet, there were always other ways she 
could amuse herself besides boxing. Maybe she could try out for the 
American Gladiators.

Round one started off poorly for Erika. Lisa was good. She was very 
good. And Erika was having a tough time trying to pull her punches 
while maintaining her timing. Towards the end of the round, Lisa 
caught Erika with a wicked combination, Erika reacted instinctively 
with a quick left-right that left Lisa dazed. Erika drew her right 
hand back again preparing to deliver the knockout. Remembering the 
bet, she hesitated. Lisa took the opportunity to throw her arms 
around Erika. The referee separated them, and then the bell sounded 
before the fight could resume. 

Back in Erika's corner, Sharon said, "Nearly lost it out there, 
didn't you?"

"Zis sucks. If it didn't mean losing the bet, I vwould knock her out 
right now."

Erika didn't have much more luck in the next few rounds. Lisa was an 
excellent technician, and used her skill to build up an impressive 
lead. In the last few rounds of the ten round fight, Erika started 
to get her timing down. Lisa was good, but Erika was better. She was 
younger, stronger, faster, and when she chose to be, she was a 
first-rate boxer.

The Brit's face gradually began to redden and swell. In the ninth 
round, an ugly looking cut opened up under her left eye. Seeing the 
damage she was causing, Erika tried to do her a favor and score to 
her body. But the older woman's abs just weren't prepared for the 
additional punishment. She went down. Erika went to a neutral corner 
fearing that Lisa wouldn't get up. But Lisa proved her toughness by 
ignoring the pain and drawing herself to her feet by the count of 
nine. Lisa covered her face with her gloves and Erika contented 
herself with bouncing jabs off her guard for the rest of the round. 

Waiting for Erika in her corner, Sharon was feeling sick. Despite 
her good intentions, her plan had gone straight to hell. Lisa was 
being beaten to a pulp. And worst of all, Erika was losing. 

Making a decision, Sharon leaned over to Erika and said, "Erika, 
I can't lie to you. You're losing. You're too far behind to win on 
points. You've got to knock her out."

Looking to her male attendants, Erika asked, "Vwhat do you think?"

Both men nodded as they worked on her.

"Listen Erika, I can see that this bet was a bad idea. I don't want 
you to blow your perfect record. As far as I'm concerned it's off."

Before Sharon could get a response, the bell rang. Erika stood up 
and met Lisa in the center of the ring. They touched gloves and 
started to get into their stances. Erika allowed Lisa to get off a 
few jabs while she looked for an opportunity. Seeing an opening, 
Erika lunged forward with a straight right that flew right over 
Lisa's gloves. Lisa's head snapped back in an explosion of sweat and 
she crumpled to the mat. The ten count was a formality.

For most of the fight, the crowd had been happy to see their 
champion out-box the German girl. They had been less enthusiastic as 
the tide turned in the middle rounds, and downright hostile as they 
saw Lisa get taken apart piece by piece in the final rounds. Seeing 
the way Erika easily knocked her out in the tenth round, they all 
reached the same conclusion: That Erika could have taken her anytime 
she wanted. That she had beaten Lisa to a pulp on purpose. It was a 
bloody insult!

The crowd started to boo. The booing turned into howls of rage. 
As Lisa's corner men helped her up, and the referee lifted Erika's 
arm in victory, the trash started flying. Erika jumped through the 
ropes to escape the barrage. Linking up with Sharon, the two women 
started to beat a hasty retreat for the dressing rooms. But before 
they had made it ten feet, Sharon was hit hard in the back of the 
head with a beer bottle. She fell to her knees moaning, a large gash 
in her scalp. Reacting instantly, Erika grabbed her and lifted 
Sharon to her feet. Looking into her sister-in-law's eyes, she saw 
that Sharon was out on her feet. Supporting her under the arm, Erika 
led her up the aisle towards safety. 

Pushing her way through the crowd, Erika barely got a third of the 
way before they were surrounded by rowdy fans. A large, beefy man 
put his hand in the center of Erika's chest and started to yell at 
her. Releasing Sharon, Erika started to punch him in the face. But 
since she was still wearing full size gloves, the man wasn't going 
down. Avoiding a punch, Erika stepped in and buried her knee into 
his gut. The man went down retching.

Two more men crowded her sides and grabbed her arms. Flexing her 
mighty back and shoulder muscles, Erika threw them off of her like 
a pair of gnats. Turning around, she saw Sharon being lifted off her 
feet and dragged into the crowd. Seeing her sister-in-law 
disappearing from sight, Erika went berserk. Pursuing Sharon, she 
flung men out of her way. Another rowdy fan decided to continue the 
match with her. Erika wrapped her gloved hands around his neck and 
smashed his face with a vicious head butt. Letting the man go, she 
pushed him onto his back and ran over top of him. 

Catching up with Sharon, Erika yelled, "Drop her."

Turning around and seeing the wild looking amazon, covered with 
sweat and blood, stringlets of long blonde hair hanging in front of 
her face, they decided not to argue. Sharon was dumped on the filthy 
floor as they leapt over the seat backs to get out of Erika's way. 
Bending down, Erika easily lifted Sharon's one hundred and seventy 
pounds off the floor and hoisted her across her back in a fireman's 
carry.

Ignoring the choked aisles, Erika made her way over the half empty 
seats. Reaching the dressing room door, Erika spun around, using 
Sharon's body to keep the crowd back. Fortunately, somebody saw her 
outside and opened the door. Stumbling through, Erika carried Sharon 
inside and gently laid her out on a bench.

Kneeling next to her, she asked, "Are you OK Sharon?"

"I'll live," she replied with a groan.

"Did you have to give me so rough a ride?"

"No, but I could drop you back outside and you can walk."

"That's OK Erika. I'm really sorry about this. I feel like it's all 
my fault."

"That's because it vwas."

Erika stripped off her gloves and grabbed a medical kit. As she 
cleaned Sharon's wound, she was spun around by the arm. A battered 
and fuming Lisa confronted her.

"What the bloody hell did you think you were doing out there? You 
could have knocked me out anytime you wanted to, but instead you 
played with me. What are you, some sort of sadist?"

Erika had a frown on her face as she said, "Sharon, you had better 
answer her."

Sitting up, Sharon said, "I'm sorry Lisa, it was all my fault. After 
what I did to the Irish girl, I was afraid Erika might hurt you, so 
I told her to try and beat you on points."

Lisa looked them both over and saw that they were sincere.

"Well I hope you're satisfied. It looks like the aftermath of a 
soccer match out there. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a crowd to 
calm down. I'll tell the press that you didn't intend to come off 
looking like you did. And as for you," she said addressing Sharon, 
"mind your own bloody business next time."

Lisa turned around and left. Sharon grimaced as she touched her 
wound. She was feeling lower than dirt, and her head was starting to 
throb. 

The last thing she needed to hear was a voice with a German accent 
repeating, "Ja Sharon, next time mind your own bloody business."



That night, Erika took Sharon to the hospital. She was diagnosed as 
having a mild concussion and released the next morning. Returning to 
their hotel, Sharon packed while Erika went through her messages. 
Erika was a minor celebrity in Europe, and the fight, with its 
subsequent riot, made the news all over the continent. So she wasn't 
surprised when the bellhop delivered a stack of phone messages, 
faxes, and telegrams. Sorting through them quickly, Erika threw most 
of them in the garbage.

"Offer to fight zee Polish champion, vwedding proposal, 
offer to fight zee Italian champion, offer to join a sheik's 
harem..."

"Bullshit," Sharon said, "let me see that."

Erika turned over the note.

"Well I'll be damned. That's a lot of petro-dollars. Too bad we only 
have one of you to sell."

As Erika continued to sort her messages, she suddenly stopped and 
stared at one in particular. 

"I can't leave," she stated.

"Why not?" Sharon asked.

"I have one more fight."

Sharon was more than a little annoyed as she asked, "What now? 
Another personal vendetta? Another world championship? What's so 
damned important that you have to fight again?"

"Vworld peace," Erika stated simply.

Sharon blinked. Looking at the young woman's face, Sharon could see 
that she was serious.

"Please excuse me, I have some phone calls to make."

Erika exited into the adjoining room. Sharon picked up the telegram. 
The message was from Moscow. It said simply:

Fight me traitor. - Natasha Chutesov


            THE PRIZEFIGHT XXII: The Challenge
            ----------------------------------


The challenge from Moscow was simple and straightforward:

Fight me traitor. - Natasha Chutesov

As was the response from London:

Yes. - Erika Moore

When two people hate each other enough, they don't have to waste a 
lot of money on long messages.



Even after talking with Erika for over two hours, Sharon still 
didn't understand why Erika had to fight Natasha. Perhaps it was a 
language or cultural barrier. More likely, Erika wasn't ready to 
tell her what was going on. But the one thing Sharon did understand 
was that Erika would never back down from this particular challenge.

In typical Erika fashion, the beautiful blonde German had already 
secured a ticket to Moscow so she could fly out that evening and 
have a showdown with the Russian the next day in Red Square. It took 
Sharon an additional hour to calm her down enough so that she could 
reason with her. Sharon tried to explain to Erika that she needed 
more time to recouperate from the effects of her fight with Monique. 
In the end, she had to win the argument with an emotional body blow. 
She reminded Erika that her husband Jack was still waiting for her 
in America.

When they arrived at the airport, Sharon wasn't sure what kind of 
reception her brother Jack would give Erika. She was expecting 
anything from a weepy welcome home to a fist fight in the luggage 
area. 

What she wasn't expecting, was Jack to wrap his arm around Erika 
and say, "Hey babe, bring me anything from England?"

"Ja, I have many hurts zat you may kiss and make better. Like here."

Erika pointed to her cheek. Jack gently kissed her.

"Und here."

Jack kissed her where she indicated on the lips.

"Und here," Erika smiled.

Jack smiled back and started to bury his face in Erika's muscular 
cleavage. Sharon just couldn't take it.

"For God's sake! Erika runs out on you for a month, leaves for 
Europe, doesn't even have the decency to call you, and you're ready 
to take her in the men's room and do it like dogs!"

"Take it easy sis. I knew what I was getting into when I married 
her. I understand why Erika didn't tell me about Monique."

Erika's face reddened, as she asked, "How did you know?"

"You can keep those kind of secrets from me, but you can't keep them 
from Bob. I understand that you were just doing what you thought was 
right, and that you didn't want to worry me. But if I was going to 
place some blame here, it'd be on you sis."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You knew why Erika left, didn't you?"

"Well..."

"And you didn't tell me after I called you to ask if you knew 
where she was."

"Well I..."

"So if I were to blame anybody around here, it would be you. But 
that's OK Sharon, I forgive you. Now if you'll excuse us, I'm going 
to follow your suggestion and take my wife into the men's room now."

Sharon stared open mouthed as Jack ushered Erika through the men's 
room door with a pat on the rump. She was indignant, and more than a 
little bit jealous. Her own husband Bob hadn't even bothered to pick 
her up. He had better damn well have a prize winning excuse, because 
she wasn't in a good mood.

When she got home, she found that indeed, Bob did have a good excuse. 

"Sorry I couldn't pick you up, but I've been having a bit of trouble 
getting around," he said rapping on his leg cast.

"What happened to you."

"Erika's dogs."

"They aren't here, are they?" Sharon asked, casting a fearful glance 
out the window.

"No, I was over visiting Jack. We've been spending a lot of time 
together since our wives disappeared." Sharon let the dig go by as 
Bob continued, "I was sitting outside alone while Jack got us a 
couple of beers. Well wouldn't you know, that's when Erika's pack 
came back from killing cattle, or whatever the hell they do out 
in the woods. Well I took off for the door, but before I made it 
thirty feet, I fell into a huge hole that her mutant Dobermans dug 
and broke my leg. And the worst part was, Jack had to bribe those 
damned dogs with our dinner to let me out."

"I'm sorry Jack, can I kiss it and make it better?"

"Well, you can't get to the leg, but I think you could make it 
better by kissing the closest part you can get to."

"Pig!" Sharon cried as she swept her two hundred plus pound husband 
into her arms and carried him up the stairs to their bedroom.



Late the next morning, Bob made some phone calls to the Board.

"Well, do they know who she is?" Sharon asked after he had finished.

"Oh, they know her all right. The Board tried to recruit Natasha 
Chutesov last year. She turned them down. She refused to leave 
Russia. She's used to be on their Olympic team. The rumor is they 
pumped her up with enough hormones to raise a hundred prize steers. 
She fights for the Russian Mafia now. They say she's unpredictable, 
vicious, and unbeaten in all her fights. She killed two men in the 
ring last year. Are you sure we can't talk Erika out of this?"

"That's the only thing I am sure of. It's more than just personal 
for her. It's a matter of honor and principle. She also has some 
delusion that this fight has implications for the future of world 
peace."

"You don't buy that, do you?"

"I'm not sure. All I know is that she believes it and nothing will 
change her mind."

"So what's the plan?"

"You set the fight up through the Board. Try to get her the safest 
venue possible. Erika will probably bitch about this, but I'm going 
to see that she actually trains for this fight. Get me at least ten 
weeks."



The next day Bob received a video tape from the Board. After viewing 
it, he called Sharon down at the gym where she was training Erika.

"Sharon, I just got a video tape of Natasha Chutesov fighting. I 
think you and Erika had better see this right now."

When Sharon and Erika got back, Bob invited them to sit on the couch 
and watch the show. The poor quality tape showed a massive woman 
with short blonde hair wearing a pair of red boxing shorts, a white 
tank top, and brown leather gloves. She was standing in a small, 
poorly lit boxing ring across from her male opponent. The man was 
about the same size as she was, but not nearly as muscular.

A bell sounded and the two boxers met in the center of the ring. The 
man started the action by hitting the woman in the face. The woman 
appeared to be deliberately letting him hit her as a warm-up. 
Suddenly, the woman lunged forward and caught the man on the side of 
the head with her first punch. He tried to exchange blows with her, 
but it was clear that she was hitting much harder than he was. 

Without warning, the man dropped from the accumulated punishment. 
After shaking the cobwebs clear, he stood up again to face her. 
Dropping her hands, the woman advanced on him. The man started 
hitting her as soon as she came within range, but she didn't stop. 
Retreating, he continued to pour punches into her body. His blows 
had no effect on the blonde as she bulldozed him into a corner. 

When she had him trapped, her broad shoulders blocking his escape, 
she started to piston her fists into his stomach. Almost 
immediately, the man threw his arms around her. She stopped for a 
moment, repositioned herself, and started in again. The camera 
zoomed in on the man's face as it twisted in pain. His arms hung 
limply over her back as she tore up his insides. 

The bell sounded again, and the woman backed out of the corner 
allowing the man to slither off her body and drop limply to the 
canvas. He was counted out as she paraded around the ring with her 
arms raised.

Unimpressed, Sharon said, "So what? She's big, she's strong, she's a 
brawler. Nothing Erika and I haven't faced before. I don't see 
why you were so concerned."

"Keep watching," Bob said.

The tape went black and then came back with a second fight. Again, 
Natasha destroyed her male opponent within a round. Bob started to 
fast forward. The rest of the tape contained more of the same. A 
series of one and two round fights. The final fight had Natasha 
facing three opponents simultaneously. Ignoring their efforts to hit 
her from behind, she concentrated on them one at a time.  She 
eliminated two men in the first round, and her remaining opponent in 
the second.

Shutting off the VCR, Bob asked them, "Well, what do you think?"

Sharon shrugged, "She's a tank. But nothing Erika can't handle. 
Carrying that kind of muscle, she probably doesn't have much stamina. 
Erika can run her around for a few rounds and then take her out."

"Und she has a lousy wardrobe," Erika said, noting that Natasha had 
worn the same combination of red shorts and white top in each fight.

"So what's the big deal?" Sharon asked.

"All of those fights took place on the same night. She fought ten 
fights with twelve male opponents weighing between two and three 
hundred pounds. It took Natasha fifteen rounds to beat them all, and 
she did it in two hours," Bob replied.

"Oh," Sharon said, looking worried.

Undeterred, Erika said, "I don't care if she beat a hundred men. 
She has to fight me now, und I already beat her once."

Sharon and Bob exchanged glances as Erika left to go back to the 
gym. They knew better than to press the girl. She would tell them 
when she was ready.



With the help of the Board, Bob arranged for the fight to take place 
in twelve weeks. The event would be held in Moscow's largest indoor 
stadium. Sharon was expecting an argument out of Erika when she told 
her that they would be training for the next three months, but the 
girl surprised her by immediately agreeing to the schedule.

"Are you feeling all right?" Sharon asked puzzled.

"Zere is too much at stake here to leave anything to chance. I vwill 
train as I have never trained before. Und I knew zat I could count 
on you to help me. Zat is why I bought an extra ticket."

"Ticket? Are we going someplace?"

"Ja, vwe are going to Germany to train."

"If we go to Germany, all we're going to do is drink beer and eat 
'wurst."

"Not vwhere we are going."

"And that is?"

"Leipzip. Vwe vwill be training at zee former East German national 
sports complex."



Erika pulled up in her rental car in front of the former East German 
sports complex in Leipzig. Memories flooded her brain, as she exited 
the car and strode onto one of the practice fields where she had 
spent most of her childhood. Surveying the run down buildings where 
she had lived and trained, she was filled with conflicting emotions. 

Erika had been marked at an early age. The first report had been 
filed when she was only five. In the former communist state of East 
Germany, teachers were instructed to look out for children with 
special abilities or characteristics. Abnormally intelligent 
children for scientific programs, overly aggressive children for the 
military, children with extraordinary strength, reflexes, and 
coordination for the sports program. 

Erika had been an outgoing, friendly girl. An only child, she had 
been raised by her father after her mother died. One day, officials 
from the state visited their farm and explained to her father the 
great privilege that had been bestowed upon him and his daughter. 
Erika had been selected to join the sports program, and perhaps one 
day, she would have the honor of representing East Germany at the 
Olympic games. She still vividly remembered her father's tears as 
she was ushered into the government car and taken away. Erika had 
been seven years old at the time.

Erika was taken to the complex in Leipzig where she was enrolled in 
the track and field program. She was assigned a bed in one of the 
girls dormitories next to another new arrival, a girl named Ava. Too 
young to truly understand what was happening, she quickly adapted 
to her new environment. 

Every aspect of her early life at the complex was predetermined for 
her. She was placed on a regimen of diet and exercise designed to 
ensure that she reached her maximum size and strength. Her coaches 
trained her for all of the track and field events. They had some 
difficulty identifying her aptitudes, because she was good at 
everything she tried. Eventually, they had her concentrate mainly in 
the javelin, the long jump, and the hundred meters. It was expected 
that Erika would eventually compete in at least two events. There 
was also talk of entering her as a decathelete. She was also 
required to attend school which included her formal indoctrination 
into communism.

In the three years she had spent at the complex before her father 
died, she had been permitted to visit him only once. She would 
eventually come to realize that it had been the loss of the thing 
that he loved most that had killed him. And with this realization, 
her indifference to the system that had ripped her from his grasp had 
turned to hate. 

Erika not only refused to join the communist party, she openly 
disdained it. Only her tremendous potential as an athlete saved her 
from serious repercussions. Erika had always suspected that she had 
been permitted to join the boxing program by officials hoping that 
she would be seriously injured. If so, they had been very 
disappointed.

As she wandered around the campus deep in thought, she felt a tap on 
her shoulder. As she turned around, a man punched her in the stomach 
as hard as he could. Erika grunted. More startled than hurt, she 
reacted instinctively by grabbing the man by the front of his shirt 
and drawing back her fist.

"No Erika, don't!"

Erika lowered her fist a bit and examined the man.

"Karl?"

"Is that anyway to treat your old coach?"

"Well you didn't exactly give me a proper greeting."

"Sorry Erika, I was just testing you."

"And?"

"I think I broke my hand."

"Serves you right for hitting a lady."

At the mention of the word "lady", Karl started laughing while Erika 
glowered at him.

"It's not too late to hit you back," she reminded him.

"Sorry Erika, it's just difficult for me to think of you as a lady. 
I can still remember you jamming that wrestler's head down a toilet 
for trying to kiss you."

"There were some good times, but that was long ago. A lot has 
happened since I left here. I'm sure you heard that I became the 
German boxing champion and then retired. Since then, I moved to 
America and got married."

"Married! Well I just hope you treat your husband a little better 
than your early boyfriends."

"That's why I married him. I finally found a man who's head I 
couldn't jam in a toilet," Erika said with some pride.



Karl had been Erika's track coach. At the large facility, he had 
been the only member of the staff that took a personal interest in 
her welfare. Erika remembered him staying up with her all night when 
she received the news that her father died. After that, Karl was the 
closest thing Erika had to a father figure. When Erika had expressed 
an interest in boxing, it had been Karl who had stood up for her.

Erika had been twelve when she had accompanied a few of the other 
girls to the boxing gym to watch the boys working out. But rather 
than salivating over the sweaty young males, Erika found herself 
more interested in what they were doing. After practice, she snuck 
down to the empty gym and tried playing with their equipment. The next 
day she asked her coach if she could join the boxing program. Karl 
explained to Erika that there was no women's boxing competition, but 
Erika continued to badger him. After a few weeks, he finally 
relented and told her that he'd talk to the directors. 

Karl never expected them to take him seriously, but to his surprise, 
they did. Even though women's boxing was still an oddity at the 
time, they were anticipating the day when it might become an Olympic 
event. And even if Erika never represented East Germany in a boxing 
match, they might still learn something valuable for future 
generations of athletes.

Erika was allowed to join the program provided that she continued to 
participate in track and field. At first, she wasn't well received. 
The boxing coaches resented her presence and often put her in the 
ring with the more experienced boys. Erika took a lot of beatings in 
those early days, but each one only strengthened her resolve. Erika 
trained harder and paid more attention to the coaches than any of 
the boys. In spite of their misgivings, the young girl won them over 
with her enthusiasm and dedication. Within a few months, Erika was 
paying back the boys with interest.

It was within those first few months that Erika was involved in a 
match that was still talked about to this day. One of the boxers, a 
young man nineteen years old, had been riding Erika particularly 
hard ever since she had joined the program. The final straw came 
when Erika had been practicing on the speed bag and he had come up 
from behind and punched her in the back of the head. Despite the 
fact that she was only five nine, one hundred and ten pounds, and 
that the boy was six foot, one hundred and eighty, a twelve year old 
Erika invited him to step into the ring with her.

The boy and his buddies had a good laugh at Erika's expense, and 
then he took her up on the invitation. None of the coaches even 
thought to stop the fight. This was how the boys in the boxing 
program settled their differences and Erika wouldn't receive any 
special treatment.

Meeting Erika at the center of the ring, the boy looked to further 
humiliate the young girl by standing in front of her and allowing 
her to her best shot. Erika slugged him in the gut as hard as she 
could, then bounced her gloved fist off his jaw. The boy was 
surprised by how hard the young girl could hit, but her punches 
didn't do any real damage, so he just continued to laugh at her. 
Even though Erika's punches were technically very good, she just 
didn't have the strength to hurt him.

Frustrated, she started punching at him wildly, trying to stop the 
laughter. The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the canvas 
with a bloody nose and the boy was laughing at her even harder. 
It was a defining moment in Erika's life. She could have stayed down 
and avoided more punishment, or she could have gotten back up and 
charged him again, but she didn't do either. At that moment, she 
picked herself up off the canvas, raised her gloved fists with 
a renewed sense of determination, and prepared to box her tormentor.

The nineteen year old took another hard swing at Erika's head. 
Ducking, Erika hooked her right fist into his left side. The boy 
grunted a bit and took another swing. Again, Erika ducked and caught 
him in the same spot. Aiming a quick left-right at the girl, the 
boy missed as Erika used her superior speed and reflexes to dodge 
his blows. Again, she scored on his side. 

The boy's buddies were still laughing, but now they were laughing 
at his clumsy looking attempts to hit the girl. Erika's long blonde 
ponytail whipped around like a snake as she bobbed and weaved to 
avoid his punches while she managed to score a dozen times. The 
boy was growing increasingly angry. His face was turning red, and 
more importantly, the punches to his side were starting to bother 
him.

Calming himself, the boy started to use his skills to try and trap 
the girl against the ropes. Seeing that he had managed to regain his 
self control, Erika tried a risky offensive move. Stepping in 
quickly, she lashed out and caught him on the nose. He stepped back 
for a moment, surprised by the unexpected pain. Wiping his nose with 
his wrist, he was enraged by the site of his own blood.

The boy charged and Erika retreated. As he chased her around the 
ring, she continued to take advantage of any opportunity to hit her 
chosen target. After a few minutes, her opponent began to tire. 
Erika had hit his left side at least thirty times, and it was 
starting to ache. Taking advantage of the lull in the action, Erika 
slammed her fist into his side twice more. The boy instinctively 
dropped his left arm to protect his injury. Erika used the opening 
to deliver a right hook to his jaw.

The blow didn't cause him any real harm, but it was the most 
embarrassing punch of the fight so far. Spurred into action, he 
came at Erika with a flurry of punches. Erika kept her guard up, but 
she wasn't strong enough to stop a solid punch that forced its way 
between her gloves. Erika's head snapped back and she experienced 
some dizziness. Seeing that he had hurt the girl, the boy bore in. 
He rocked her with head shots, but she still managed to protect 
herself with her gloves. Bending down low, the boy drove his gloved 
fists into her thin midsection.

Exhibiting the toughness that would make her a champion, the twelve 
year old Erika refused to go down. Recovering from the initial head 
punch, she managed to escape. The laughter of the small crowd had 
died. Erika even heard a couple of the spectators start to cheer her 
on. Her opponent was moving noticeably slower now and starting to 
breath heavily. He had obviously expended most of his energy and 
needed to rest. Erika was happy to let him rest - as long as she 
could continue to work his side. 

The other members of the boxing team were treated to an amazing 
sight. They saw one of their own actually falling back before the 
punches of a young girl. The boy was starting to realize he was in 
trouble now. His side was on fire and his stomach muscles were 
cramping. The girl had hit him there at least forty times, and was 
continuing to hit him. He tried to back her off with a defensive 
jab, but it was hopeless. He couldn't hit her when he was fresh, and 
he had no absolutely no chance now. 

Realizing that he was losing the fight, the boy tried one last 
desperate punch, a right hook to the side of Erika's head. Unlike 
her opponent, Erika had maintained her concentration and saw his 
punch coming a mile away. Ducking the hard swing, Erika put her 
full hundred and ten pounds into another punch to his reddened side. 
The combination of his twisting midsection and Erika's punch proved 
to be too much for him. He folded and went down on one knee moaning 
and clutching his side. 

Erika withdrew to a corner as the crowd went wild. Heeding the cries 
of his fellows, the boy tried to get up. But as he started to 
straighten his back, he was hammered with a wave of agony that sent 
him rolling on the canvas, grimacing in pain. Seeing that he was 
unable to get up, the crowd burst into cheers for Erika. The truth 
was that nobody had liked the arrogant young boy very much. A couple 
of his teammates came into the ring and raised Erika's arms. It was 
her first real fight, and the feeling of standing victorious over a 
beaten opponent coursed through her veins like a drug. 



"So let me have a look at you. What are you, about six feet, one 
ninety?"

"Two hundred and five actually."

Karl whistled, "You were only projected to reach one eighty. As the 
Americans say, you must have eaten your Wheaties."

As they walked and talked, they passed by a group of teenage boys 
who were practicing the javelin throw and dreaming of Olympic gold.

Karl stopped and asked, "Would you give it a try just for old times 
sake?"

"I don't know, it's been years since I even saw one of those. I 
wouldn't want to spear an innocent bystander."

"Don't worry, you can't hurt anybody important, because I'll be 
standing behind you where it's safe."  

"OK, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Erika removed her warm-up jacket and rolled her huge shoulders to 
loosen up. Ignoring the appreciative stares of the boys, she 
selected a javelin from the rack. Rolling it in her hand, she tested 
its balance. Satisfied, she took her position on the field. After 
standing like a statue for a few seconds, she suddenly exploded into 
motion. Sprinting towards the line, she accelerated quickly. With a 
fluid, powerful motion, she used her huge deltoids and pectoral 
muscles to launch the javelin into space. Standing on one foot at 
the line, she watched as it arced up and then descended to land at 
least ten meters past the best throw of the boys. Turning around, 
she was met with enthusiastic applause. Karl was impressed.

"An excellent throw Erika! Only a few meters off the women's world 
record. Too bad you fouled."

"Fouled!"

"Your toes were clearly over the line. No doubt that added at least 
twenty meters to your throw."

"Well why don't you just let me warm up properly and we'll see who 
goes over the line and what the new world record will be."

Taking Erika by the arm, Karl led her away from the other athletes.

"You know I'm just kidding Erika. It was a perfect throw. You must 
have had a good coach."

"The best."

"Now why don't you tell me what's going on. I know that this is a 
place you wouldn't return to on your own, not even to visit me. So 
why are you here?"

"Natasha Chutesov."

Karl winced, "Now there's a name I didn't need to hear. Natasha, the 
best female athlete Soviet science could manufacture."

"I'm going to fight her. I need to know what I'm dealing with."

"I was afraid you were going to say that. Do you remember the rumors 
about East German women athletes? About the steroid use, hormone 
injections, and failed chromosome tests?"

"Of course, the rest of the world still jokes about us, but we know 
better."

"It happened."

"What! Why didn't I ever hear about it?"

"For obvious reasons, the experimentation was kept secret. Most of 
the athletes treated didn't even know what they were being given. 
They thought they were receiving vitamin injections. They even 
wanted to experiment on you."

Erika paled for a moment. She thought about her freakish size and 
strength, the result of a growth spurt that had started when she was 
twelve. An age when most girls were reaching maturity.

"They didn't get to me, did they?" she asked in a worried tone.

"No, I wouldn't let them. I refused to let them touch any of my 
athletes. I threatened to resign, and they backed down. They left 
me alone because I produced winners. No Erika, you grew as you did 
due to your genes and my nutrition program. That, and the fact you 
ate like a pig."

Relieved, Erika managed a smile.

"I still eat like a pig."

Karl slapped her on one of her cannonball delts.

"I don't doubt that one bit. Natasha on the other hand is a 
different story. She's the result of fifty years of Soviet 
experimentation. Their ultimate achievement. Too bad she never got 
to compete. The first time they tried to enter her, she was caught 
by a new series of drug tests they hadn't anticipated. The last time 
you saw her, she was what? Fourteen? She was big then, she's huge 
now. She is also rumored to be pound for pound stronger than any 
other athlete in the world."

"If I'm going to beat her, I need to train here. Here where it all 
started. And I'm going to need your help."

"I'll tell you what, I'll help you out if you promise to come back 
and try out for the next Olympic Games."

Erika smiled and shook Karl's hand, "Deal."



Erika made her arrangements with Karl and the remaining staff. A 
large donation to their cash strapped program gave her the run of 
the complex. That afternoon, Erika picked up Sharon from the cozy 
inn where she had left her and brought her to their new training 
camp.

Erika gave Sharon a tour of the facilities. They saw the pools, the 
tracks, the weight rooms, and the boxing gymnasium. Erika finished 
the tour by showing Sharon the room they would be staying in. Part 
of the women's dormitory, the room was large, but most of the space 
was taken up by eight beds. The cracked concrete block walls were 
painted a sickly looking mint green. A common bathroom was located 
at the end of the hall. When Sharon saw the missing tiles, leaking 
pipes, and grungy floors, she wanted to go back to the inn. But 
knowing how important this was to Erika, she kept her mouth shut.

"Vwell, what do you think?" Erika asked.

"It'll be a long three months."

"I lived in zis room for eight years."

"I'm sorry Erika, I didn't know."

Erika shrugged, "It vwasn't all bad."

"I'm impressed by the size of the complex, but I really didn't see 
anything that we don't have at home. What are you really here for?"

"For the memories...," Erika said with a far off look in her eyes.



That night, as Sharon and Erika lay in the dark in their small beds, 
Erika opened up to Sharon about why she had to fight, and why they 
were here.  She told Sharon about her about her father, about how 
she blamed the communist state for his death, and she told her about 
Natasha...

Natasha had been fourteen years old when Erika had the displeasure 
of meeting her. Erika was fifteen. By that time, she had reached her 
full height of six feet, and had filled out to one hundred and fifty 
pounds. Despite the fact that she was younger, Natasha was larger, 
at six one, one seventy.

Natasha had been sent to the complex as an exchange athlete. 
Basically, it was an opportunity for the two countries to spy on 
each other's sports programs. Both Erika and Natasha were training 
for the same events. Both were very competitive girls. But the bad 
blood between them didn't start on the field, it started in the 
classroom. 

Every day, the athletes were required to attend an hour long 
political science class, which in East Germany meant a class on 
communism. That was fine with Erika, it gave her a chance to take 
an afternoon nap before her boxing lessons. It was also fine with 
her teachers who would rather the young blonde didn't participate in 
class, as her hostility towards communism in general, and the East 
German and Soviet governments in particular, were well documented. 
Usually, this type of behavior would not be tolerated. But since 
Erika had no close family to threaten, and because she was a rising 
star, the political officers tended to look the other way.  

Natasha on the other hand was a rarity. She was a true believer, a 
daughter of the Russian Revolution. She believed that communism 
was the natural order for mankind, and that the rest of the world 
would eventually come to see the truth in it. She also thought that 
there was no place for the non-believer in the liberated countries 
of the Eastern Block. Her fellow athletes in the Soviet Union were 
well aware of her feelings. She was known as a snitch who would 
turn in her peers for what she perceived as any disloyal statement, 
gesture, or act. And her activities for the party weren't limited to 
spying. She was also rumored to have taken matters into her own 
hands with girls whom she thought of as traitors.

When Erika had first been introduced to Natasha, she knew nothing of 
this. If she had, she probably would have punched the big Russian in 
the face instead of shaking her hand. Her first clue came when she 
was rudely awakened in the middle of a lecture on Marxist ideology. 
Natasha had decided that Erika's lack of respect was intolerable, so 
she had shoved Erika out of her seat and onto the floor. Erika was 
livid. She would have jumped on Natasha right then and there if her 
best friend Ava hadn't restrained her.

After class, it was Natasha who got in Erika's face and started to 
lecture her on how she should show more respect for the system that 
was responsible for everything she had. Barely containing herself, 
Erika let Natasha know what a load of shit she thought that was, and 
that if Natasha wanted to take it up with her some other time in a 
more private and physical forum, Erika would be more than happy to 
help her work out their differences. 

As it turned out, Natasha was eager to accept Erika's invitation. 
That night, she snuck into Erika's room carrying a towel filled with 
bars of soap. Quietly waking Erika's roommates, she instructed them 
to wait in the hall. When she woke Ava, the girl yelled for Erika to 
get up. Natasha quickly silenced Ava by slugging her on the side 
of the head with her improvised blackjack. Before Erika could get 
out of bed, Natasha jumped on top of her and started to whip the 
towel back and forth across her face. 

Disoriented, tangled in her bedding, her arms pinned under Natasha's 
knees, Erika took a vicious beating. The outside of the towel 
quickly turned from white to red. Erika's struggles were weakening 
with every blow. Picking herself off the floor and ignoring the lump 
behind her ear, Ava lunged and tackled Natasha to the floor. As a 
participant in the shotput and hammer throw, Ava was an incredibly 
strong girl and managed to keep the squirming Russian pinned as 
Erika shakily got up. 

After giving herself a minute to recover, Erika told Ava, "Get off 
of her and get out."

Looking up at Erika's battered face, Ava asked, "Are you sure? 
Somebody will be here soon."

"I'm sure."

"Rubbing the side of her head, Ava said, "Give her one for me."

Following Ava, Erika closed the door and wedged a chair under the 
handle as Natasha got to her feet. 

"Shall we start again?" Erika asked.

With a savage yell, Natasha rushed Erika, intending to bowl her over 
with her superior size and strength. Sidestepping, Erika twisted 
around and slammed Natasha's face into the wall. Spinning her around 
by the shoulder, Erika buried her fist in the pit of the Russian 
girl's stomach. Natasha doubled over with a "woof", just in time to 
meet Erika's rising knee. 

Allowing the Russian to stand up straight, Erika started to apply 
her boxing skill to the task of devastating the big girl. Natasha 
tried to hit back, but her attempts were clumsy compared with 
Erika's hard, crisp punches. Within a minute, Natasha's face was 
reduced to a mass of cuts, bruises, and welts that made Erika's own 
battered visage look good. The Russian girl stumbled around the 
room, tears of pain and frustration blinding her eyes. Grabbing 
Natasha by the shirt front, Erika thrust her against the wall. 

Uttering the words that would come back to haunt her a decade later, 
Erika said, "I wish this fight could change the world, but since it 
can't, I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with changing your 
face!" Releasing her right hand, Erika continued, "Here's one for 
Ava."

Erika blasted Natasha with a roundhouse right that smashed her in 
the teeth. 

"And here's one for my father."

Launching an uppercut from the floor, Erika connected with Natasha's 
jaw, breaking it in two places. Letting Natasha slump to the floor, 
Erika responded to the desperate pounding on the door by kicking the 
chair out of the way.

The next day, Natasha was shipped back to Russia. In addition to the 
bandages on her face, Erika was forced to wear a cast on her right 
hand where she had broken several bones on the Russian's hard head. 
Since the incident had occurred between two of their most promising 
athletes, and there was no permanent damage, representatives from 
both countries decided that the matter was best forgotten. But as 
Erika knew now, some things can never be forgotten.



Sharon didn't have much to say after Erika concluded her story. The 
German girl had every right to be angry at Natasha and the 
totalitarian government she had grown up under. She still didn't 
understand why Erika felt that this fight had global implications, 
but she had known the girl long enough to trust her judgment in 
these matters. Sharon was glad to note that Erika had already fallen 
asleep. They were both going to need their rest. Tomorrow, Sharon 
would start to train Erika for the challenge that she seemed 
destined to face. And by God, Sharon was going to make sure that 
Erika didn't have to face that challenge alone.


            THE PRIZEFIGHT XXIII: In Training
            ----------------------------------


Sharon wasn't happy with what she saw. Erika was suspended from a 
chin-up bar by leather straps that supported her under her arms. She 
was wearing nothing more than a brief gray top and shorts that 
completely exposed her midsection. Her sparse clothing was drenched 
in sweat. Her face twisted in agony as Karl took her through a 
brutal abdominal workout.

Karl directed Erika to twist up in a right abdominal crunch, then a 
left crunch, and then a forward leg raise. Nothing Sharon hadn't 
done herself. But as Erika's abdominal muscles reached their maximum 
contraction, Karl directed two muscular young men to pound on those 
muscles with their fists in precise patterns. They had been at it 
now for twenty minutes, five minutes longer than any man had been 
able to take the treatment.



Sharon had been skeptical when Karl had first explained the 
treatment to her.

"And that's supposed to make your abdominals stronger?" she had 
asked.

"Not stronger in the sense you're thinking. She won't be able to do 
more sit-ups, or move more weight on an abdominal machine, but her 
flexed abdominal muscles will be able to absorb more energy without 
failing. All exercise is the process of selectively injuring tissue 
in order to allow it to recover better than it was."

"What does not kill us makes us stronger."

"Ja, the unofficial slogan of our program. The key is to injure the 
tissue correctly to produce the desired results. By hitting the 
contracted muscles, we injure the bonds between the fibers that keep 
them locked. When they recover, they are better able to resist being 
hit. You've probably used a similar technique."

"I never..."

"You never had anybody throw a medicine ball into your stomach while 
you did sit-ups?"

"Well..."

"It's the same principle, I just took it further."

"That's a nice theory, but does it work?"

"Perhaps a little experiment will satisfy you. Unfortunately, we 
only have one man who has actually completed the treatment. Everyone 
else dropped out. Max! Otto! Will you come here please.

Two heavyweights stopped what they were doing and trotted over.

"One of these men completed the treatment, the other hasn't tried it 
yet. Would you care to test them?"

Sharon smiled, "With pleasure."

Karl handed her a pair of thinly padded bag gloves which she slipped 
on. Though Sharon no longer held her title, she still kept herself 
in shape, and she was still confident in her ability to deliver one 
of her legendary body attacks. Karl lined the two men up and 
instructed them to hold out for as long as possible. The smirks on 
the two German's faces told Sharon that they weren't taking the 
muscular American woman very seriously. She was determined to change 
their minds.

First Otto placed his hands behind his head and flexed his thick 
abdominal muscles. Sharon stepped in front of him and started to 
alternate rights and lefts to the middle of his stomach. Within two 
punches, she had wiped the smile off the Otto's face as he felt her 
power. With her third punch, she felt her fist plunge into the man's 
hairy belly causing him to double over and wrap his arms around her 
shoulders. 

Resisting the urge to continue, Sharon pushed Otto aside and said, 
"I hope that wasn't your boy."

"It wasn't. Please continue."

Sharon stepped in front of Max. Karl nodded and he assumed the 
position. If anything, his abs weren't nearly as thick as Otto's. 
But even after seeing what she had done to his friend, he still 
smiled confidently. Sharon decided that she was going to enjoy 
destroying Karl's superman.

Sharon crouched a bit as she launched her fists into the man's gut 
at a slightly upward angle. Her biceps and forearm muscles knotted 
as she put her whole body into her punches. The sound of her leather 
clad fists bouncing off Max's abs cracked like rifle shots. Six, 
eight, a dozen punches. Max continued to smile. Sharon redoubled her 
efforts. 

"We had the other heavyweights line up and hit Max for ten minutes 
before we stopped the experiment. You might as well stop now before 
you hurt your hands. Max's midsection is as hard as a..."

"Ooooooff!"

Max dropped to the floor clutching his gut. Karl just stood there 
with his mouth open. Sharon had a satisfied smile on her face as she 
peeled her gloves off and dropped them on Max's back.

"Well I'm a believer."

"You are?"

"I've never run into anybody who could take that much punishment, 
not even Erika. It'd be almost impossible to inflict that kind of 
concentrated damage in a real fight. If your treatment gives her the 
extra edge she needs to survive her fight with Natasha, then I'll go 
along with it."

"I can't believe you did that. Could I run some tests on you?"

Sharon patted Karl on the back as she passed by and said, "Some 
things are meant to remain a mystery."

As Karl observed Sharon's back, her broad shoulders and thin waist, 
the feminine sway of her hips, he vowed to use the last vestiges 
of East German sports science to discover what made her tick.



Now, as Sharon watched Erika's muscular stomach turn into an angry 
mass of bruised flesh, she was regretting her decision. The time 
closed on half an hour. Erika's stoicism was dissolving as she let 
an occasional cry escape her lips. 

Enough is enough Sharon decided. Stepping in, she pushed the men 
aside and wrapped her arms around Erika's waist. Erika tried to 
resist, but was too weak to do anything as Sharon lowered her gently 
to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Karl started to protest.

"What the hell are you doing? Just how long was she supposed to stay 
up there while your boys here beat her like a side of beef?"

"She was supposed to stay up there as long as she could take it."

"You idiot! You told her that? Erika is more German than German, 
which means that she's not too smart when it comes to these kinds of 
things. She would have let you beat her to death before admitting 
she couldn't take it. Now make yourself useful and help me carry her 
to the doctor."



Leaving Erika to recover from her ordeal, Sharon went to the 
complex's offices to phone home. After a frustrating half hour of 
struggling with the antiquated East German phone system, Sharon 
finally managed to get through to Bob. When she did, he had some 
news for her.

"Jack and I just got a visit from some agents of the State 
Department. They were looking for Erika."

"Why? Is there some problem with her immigration status?"

"No, they want to know why she's trying to destabilize Eastern 
Europe."

"Excuse me?"

"Seems that Erika wasn't kidding about how important this fight is. 
The communist party in Russia is rallying around Natasha Chutesov as 
a symbol of the superiority of their system. Especially a man named 
General Leonard Zebrinski. He's running for Premier. They said that 
the outcome of this fight could influence the upcoming elections. If 
Erika loses, it could ensure that General Zebrinski and the other 
right wing nationalists take over the government."

"And if she wins?"

"It could prove to be a major embarrassment to the communists, 
enabling the reformers to maintain power."

"And if she doesn't show?"

"It could be worse than if she loses."

"Shit, this just gets better and better."

"The location has also been changed."

"What was wrong with the hockey stadium?"

"Too small. It's been moved to the Olympic stadium. It holds a 
quarter of a million people."

"That's a big audience."

"It's nothing compared to how many people are expected to see the 
fight on TV. Did you know that Natasha and Erika have been giving 
away the rights for free? China signed up yesterday. It's going to 
be bigger than Baywatch."

"What about the American market?"

"Erika couldn't interest any of the networks, so she's making it a 
pay-per-view event on cable. I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out 
to be huge. She's dipped into her bank account and secured some of the 
best fight promoters in the business to set up the coverage. She's 
even hired a couple of celebrity announcers."

"Anybody I know?"

"Don't be surprised if Timmy Norris shows up at your training camp."

"I've never beaten a current heavyweight contender before. He could 
be fun."

"Since the man is going to be doing some commentary on Erika and her 
trainers, I'd suggest you take it easy on him."

"Killjoy."

"So how's the training going?"

"Erika's in the hospital right now from over-training. I swear if I 
wasn't here, they'd be burying her. And that's what's worrying me 
the most. I know what she's preparing to do. She's either going to 
beat Natasha or die trying."



Sharon was relieved to hear that Erika had received nothing more 
than a severe abdominal bruising from her workout. The Doctor had 
recommended that she recover for at least a week before she resumed 
her training program. Sharon saw the look in Erika's eyes as she 
listened to the doctors recommendations and she knew exactly what 
the girl was thinking. Well, Sharon thought, I'm not going to let 
you do it.

Erika got up early the next morning. Sharon pretended to sleep as 
she watched the blonde girl quietly dress in a warm-up suit. It was 
clear from the way she moved that she was in a great deal of pain. 
Grabbing her shoes and socks, she snuck towards the door in her bare 
feet. 

"Going somewhere?" Sharon asked.

Erika jumped as if she had been shot.

"Uh, I vwas just going to zee bathroom."

"Dressed like that? Bullshit."

"Come on Sharon, you don't expect me to lie around here for a vweek. 
I must train."

"I'll tell you what. If you can pass a simple test, I'll let you 
start training again. Until then, you do what the Doctor tells you. 
Does that sound fair?"

"Ja, I suppose so. Vwhat is zee test?"

"Just let me hit you in the stomach as hard as I can."

Erika didn't say a word. She just stripped off her clothes and got 
back in bed. Sharon went back to sleep with the satisfaction of 
knowing that she could still keep a step or two ahead of her 
sister-in-law.
 
Erika surprised the Doctor and Sharon when she was able to get out 
of bed after only three days. Within five days, she was back to her
full time training schedule. In addition to Erika's remarkable 
vitality, Sharon had to give Karl much of the credit for his 
advanced nutrition program. The man was obviously very knowledgeable 
and Sharon respected him a great deal. She permitted Karl to 
continue his abdominal treatments, but she made sure that he set 
strict time limits and that Erika adhered to them. Between the two 
of them, they laid out a program designed to make Erika the best 
conditioned fighter on the planet.



The alarm went off in the large dorm room announcing the arrival of 
dawn. Its only two occupants stirred and got up to start their 
day's training. Dressing quickly in warm-ups, the two women walked 
across a large courtyard to the cafeteria. Klaus, the cafeteria's 
head chef was waiting for them.

The burly man lit up when he saw them coming through the door, "Good 
morning Erika and Sharon! I have personally prepared banana drinks 
to give you energy for your morning run."

The chef produced a couple of huge, frosty pitchers for them. Sharon 
noted that Erika's drink had a cherry floating on top.

"Why, thank you Klaus. Nobody can feed me like you can. If I wasn't 
married, I would be all over you," Erika said as she reached over the 
counter and gave the burly man a pinch on the cheek.

As they sat down at a table, Sharon said, "Please, could you stop 
flirting this early in the morning. It's hard enough getting one of 
Klaus's banana smoothies down without you making me sick."

"Und you wonder vwhy you have no cherry?"

After breakfast, the two women stretched and began their run. Rather 
than using the track, they preferred to run through the surrounding 
countryside. Early on, Erika had taken Sharon to a steep hill, two 
miles from the complex. It made an ideal challenge for the women, 
and they had made it a part of their daily routine.

It was now early summer, and the sun had just risen high enough to 
start melting the dew when they arrived and started to run up the 
hill. Sharon marveled at Erika as the young woman raced ahead and 
left her trying in vain to catch up. Sharon finally reached the top 
of the hill a full minute behind Erika and found the girl doing a 
set of one armed push-ups in the grass. Without saying a word, Erika 
leapt lightly to her feet, and started racing back down as Sharon 
yelled at her to slow down before she broke her fool neck.



Natasha woke in her private room in a small sports training facility 
on the outskirts of Moscow. Kept alive by certain interested 
parties, the facility was all that was left of what had originally 
been the Soviet Union's mighty sports program. Dressing in a tank 
top and shorts, she made her way down a sterile corridor to an 
examining room where her weight was recorded and she was given her 
first series of injections for the day. After chugging a quart of 
carbohydrate drink, the big Russian got on a treadmill where she was 
hooked up to a rebreathing mask and a set of electrodes to monitor 
her heart and lung functions. Not needing to be told what to do, she 
started running like a huge hamster on a wheel.



Returning to the complex, the two women went back to the cafeteria 
for a proper breakfast of egg whites, fruit, whole wheat toast, and 
juice served up by Klaus. Then it was on to the gym for weight 
training. Stripping down to a pair of shorts and exercise tops, the 
women grabbed some iron and got busy.

Sharon wasn't looking to make Erika any larger, so she had the girl 
on a high rep program to maintain her strength while building her 
endurance. Even so, the blonde bombshell was still pumping some 
serious weight as she cranked out twenty five reps on the bench 
press with two hundred and twenty five pounds. Then it was onto the 
squat machine where she did thirty reps with three hundred pounds. 
After that, they spent another hour hitting some of the smaller 
muscle groups.

One part that Sharon did want to develop was Erika's neck. It 
wouldn't do if Natasha knocked her out because she didn't have the 
supporting structure to cushion her pretty head. Sharon worked the 
girl on a variety of machines and rigs until her muscles and tendons 
stood out so much, she looked like she could snap a dog collar.

She also had Erika do a lot of work strengthening her wrists and 
forearms. Later, during bag practice, she would show Erika how to 
use this strength to angle her knuckles in such a way as to cut into 
an opponent's abdominal wall. It was the key to her devastating body 
punches, and the one secret that she had held back from the German 
girl until now.



Natasha screamed as she ripped the heavily weighted bar off the 
ground and heaved it overhead. She only did this twice, but either 
lift would have intimidated almost any male weight lifter. Picking up 
a pair of hundred pound dumbbells, Natasha thrust them into the air 
as if she was driving an uppercut into an imaginary opponent. Her 
biceps swelled like softballs as she finished up by tossing the 
weights contemptuously across the room. 

After she had burned her muscles out with the weights, she sat down 
on a table where a trainer hooked her up to an electrical muscle 
stimulator. Turning the device on, her biceps spasmed and strained 
against a nonexistent force. The device ensured that every muscle 
fiber in her body had been trained to its limits. Of course, the 
high voltage current that they used could cause cardiac arrest, but 
that had only happened once and they had easily revived her.



Back at the cafeteria for lunch, Erika washed down a whole chicken 
with a protein shake while Sharon nibbled on a breast. Then it was 
onto bag practice where Erika pounded leather until she was soaked 
with sweat. When she was satisfied that Erika was warmed up, Sharon 
ushered Erika into the ring to spar with some live opponents.

The sparring sessions were the cornerstone of Erika's training 
program, and Sharon took pains to ensure that the girl didn't get 
comfortable. With Bob's help, Sharon had assembled an amazing array 
of sparring partners. Impossibly fast lightweights, incredibly tough 
middleweights, and of course, immensely strong heavyweights. With 
her cadre of fighters, Sharon took Erika through twenty rounds of 
boxing hell. And as if that wasn't enough, Sharon would then step in 
for a few rounds and give Erika some real competition. 

Right now, Sharon had Erika in with Sam, an American featherweight 
who was giving her a hard time. Sam was short, skinny, and had 
incredibly fast hands. The man buzzed around Erika like a gnat, 
stinging, but doing no real damage. Erika was frustrated. They had 
been sparring now for five minutes, and she hadn't laid a glove on 
him. In a real fight, Erika would just have cornered the man and 
used her superior strength to rip through his defenses and knock him 
clear out of the ring. But Sharon insisted that she had to beat him 
at his own game, so she was holding back, trying to score with some 
quick punches of her own.

There was only so much she could take however, and she was fast 
reaching her limit. Ducking one of her punches, Sam got inside 
on her and popped her in the nose. Erika snorted, blood blowing out 
of her nostrils, her steely blue eyes glowing with cold rage.

"Oh shit," Sam uttered as he quickly scuttled away.

Erika stalked after him. Sam tried to dart left, but Erika needed to 
move only a step in that direction to block his escape. He tried 
going right, but the ropes were too close. Within five steps, Erika 
had him trapped and was preparing to send him home in a body bag. The 
man thought he was doomed, Erika had her left hand on his shoulder 
and had drawn back her right to punch him in the midsection. 
Suddenly, Sam's feet were yanked out from under him and Erika's 
punch only grazed his forehead as Sharon pulled him out of the ring 
under the bottom rope. Erika looked like a tigress whose meat had 
been stolen from her. 

"You get back in there and give Erika some more," Sharon said to Sam.

"What? Are you nuts?"

"No, don't worry, Erika won't hurt you. We agreed, no hurting the 
sparring partners, didn't we Erika?"

"Ja," Erika said, obviously still disappointed.

"And if she does hurt you, I'm taking over the lesson. Now both of 
you, get back in there and spar."

The man reluctantly climbed back through the ropes.

"Wait up a minute Erika. I know you're frustrated, but you finally 
figured out what to do just then. You'll never match his hand speed, 
but you can use your size and reach to control his movements. Now go 
back out there and score a few points."

Erika did as she was instructed. Within a minute she had the man 
corralled into a corner. Bending down to his level, Erika sent a 
number of clean punches in past his arms to score on his head. But 
Sam was still scoring from his position on Erika's face. Even though 
he was wearing headgear and she was not, the eventual outcome of 
this exchange was obvious. Sharon blew the whistle before he went 
down.

"Erika, what the hell's the matter with you? You're not even trying 
to protect your face."

"He can't hurt me."

"That's not the point. We're trying to stretch your abilities to 
make you an all around better fighter. Not build some of your skills 
at the expense of others. Besides, you should never take any opponent 
for granted. Why, with a little of my expert coaching, Sam here 
could put you on your pretty little ass."

Both Sam and Erika looked a bit dubious at Sharon's claim.

"Oh, you don't think so?"

"No," said Sam.

"Bullshit," said Erika.

"Well why don't we make a little bet?"

"No thanks."

"I wasn't talking to you Sam. Well Erika?"

"Vwhat would be the bet?"

"The loser goes on a date with Klaus."

"Ja," Erika smiled, "I think Klaus vwill like you."

Sharon called Sam out of the ring and took him into another room for 
five minutes. When they came back, Sharon ushered him into the ring 
and rang the bell. The round started much as it had before. Sam 
peppered Erika with a series of quick punches with absolutely no 
effect on the big German girl.

As Erika started to crowd Sam into a corner, she called over to 
Sharon, "I think I'll rent the two of you a room in that cozy little 
inn you like." When she had him trapped again, she said, "Perhaps he 
vwill even shave his back for you."

Erika started to hit Sam with a series of punches in the tight 
confines of the corner. Sam crouched down and brought his gloved 
hands together under the withering attack.

"You should have prayed before you got into zee ring," Erika said, 
noting his stance.

Suddenly, Sam exploded under Erika with a rabbit punch to the jaw 
that sent her flying backwards onto the canvas. Erika got right back 
up, but Sharon blew her whistle before she could even think about 
pounding the man into kibble.

"Too late now Erika. I'll tell Klaus not to shave."

Erika was frowning. She always hated to lose, but she especially 
hated losing to her sister-in-law Sharon. Her other sparring 
partners thought it was funny though. They were rolling around on 
their bench at the sight of Erika being knocked down by Sam.

"I don't know why you guys are laughing," Sharon said, "you're next."

The laughter immediately died and it was Erika's turn to smile.



Natasha Chutesov faced her punching bag across the ring. The man 
looked scared. She thought of him as a punching bag instead of a 
sparring partner because he wasn't. She hadn't had a sparring 
partner in weeks. They were either all in the hospital or in hiding. 
The man in front of her now was a prisoner, a political dissident 
supplied to her by the KGB.

Right now, four KGB guards surrounded the ring ready to shoot the 
man if he tried to escape. As Natasha closed on him, she could see 
his eyes darting back and forth, trying to decide between her fists 
and a bullet. The decision was suddenly, and violently taken out of 
his hands as she cornered him.

The man offered no resistance as he cowered in the corner. Natasha 
aimed for the man's arms as he tried to cover up. She didn't want to 
finish him off too quickly, after all, this was supposed to be a 
workout. Natasha felt no sympathy for the man as she dislocated his 
shoulder with a straight right. The man was a traitor, a traitor 
like Erika.

They were all traitors. The girls who had helped Erika to beat her 
up, the officials who had let her get away with it, and the fools 
who had let her country crumble into ruin. They were all traitors to 
the system that would liberate the world. Natasha despised traitors, 
and Erika was their queen. The bitch was far worse than the 
capitalist oppressors in the West. She had been born into a system 
that had nothing but her best interests in mind, and she had 
rejected it. And more seriously, Erika was becoming a symbol to 
others who sought to subvert the system. She had tried to explain it 
to Erika once, and had failed. She wouldn't fail this time. Erika 
would lose! Erika would be humiliated! Erika would die!

Natasha shook her head. She had blacked out for a minute. Her 
punching bag was clinging feebly to her wrist. Her gloved hand was 
literally buried in his shattered rib cage. Yes, Erika would die. 
But she wouldn't be as lucky as the man in front of her, his pain 
had lasted less than a minute, Erika's pain would last for hours.

Dropping the man to the canvas, Natasha screamed, "Get this piece of 
shit out of my ring and bring in the next one."

The head of the guards replied, "He was the last one."

"General Zebrinski guaranteed me that I would receive anything I 
needed. Right now I need sparring partners. If you cannot find 
anymore for me, then perhaps I will have to use you."

The guard paled visibly at the threat.

"Perhaps I can scare up a few more. Just give me fifteen minutes."

"You have ten."



After boxing practice, Sharon and Erika went back to the cafeteria 
to reload with protein and carbohydrates. A smiling Klaus pushed the 
regular workers out of the way so he could serve them personally. 

When Sharon and Erika didn't leave, he asked, "Did you want 
something else?"

Erika didn't say anything for a few seconds, then she nearly lost 
her tray as Sharon gave her a hard shove from behind towards the 
counter.

"Well Klaus, you have been so kind to us, I just wanted to ask you 
if you would like to go out with me tonight."

Klaus thought about his answer for a few seconds. He thought about 
his loving wife and children, about his twenty year relationship, 
and about his happy home. Then he took another look at the prime 
example of German womanhood standing before him.

"I get off at six."

"I'll see you then."

As they sat down, Sharon said, "And I don't want him spending his 
life savings on you either. It's your treat."



Sharon and Erika finished their day with twenty laps in the pool. 
When they had first started, there had been nobody in the bleachers. 
Within a week there had been about fifty guys sitting there. Now 
there were closer to a hundred. Sharon wished she could sell tickets 
as they watched Erika climb out of the pool wearing a dark blue one 
piece suit that displayed a scandalous amount of cleavage.

As she contemplated men and their pig nature, she heard one of the 
spectators make a comment to his friend about her. She had picked up 
quite a bit of German by now, but she still needed to be sure.

Confronting the man, she asked in halting German, "What did you just 
say?"

Embarrassed, the man replied, "Uh, I said that you were even more 
beautiful than your friend Erika."

"I'm sorry, I thought that you said that you would rather do me than 
Erika." Sharon considered throwing both of the men in the pool, but 
instead she smiled and said, "thank you." 



Natasha finished her day on the stair master from hell. Not only did 
she have to step, she also had to twist her torso and pump her arms 
against a varied resistance created by computer controlled pneumatic 
tubes. Constructed of heavy gauge steel, the device would probably 
never be popular in health clubs due to its propensity to tear the 
novice user's arms out of their sockets.

"Damn it!" Natasha screamed as she broke the machine for the third 
time that month. "Will somebody get down here and fix this piece of 
shit!"



General Zebrinski had been watching Natasha's workout over a closed 
circuit video monitor in his office. Natasha's head trainer, Doctor 
Nicholas Dorstoy watched with him.

"Her progress has been remarkable Comrade Dorstoy. I have never seen 
a woman, or a man for that matter, so strong."

"Thank you General, you are most kind. But we could never have done 
it without your support. Natasha is our ultimate achievement, and if 
the government had not collapsed, all of our athletes would soon be 
at her level."

"And our soldiers?"

"A logical next step."

"Do not worry, things are about to change again. Comrade Chutesov's 
victory over Erika Shotze will ensure my election. Then you will 
receive your funding, and I will get my soldiers. That is why it is 
critical that we leave nothing to chance. Can you assure me that she 
will win?"

"Comrade Chutesov is the culmination of twenty years of effort. Her 
muscles have been strengthened with steroids and hormones. Her 
endurance has been enhanced with biological stimulants and blood 
doping. Her reflexes are the result of the long term effects of a 
neural enhancing drug developed in the West. She could run a 
marathon and then beat any ten men you care to put her up against. 
By contrast, Erika Shotze is nothing. My spies in Leipzig tell me 
that she is training by lifting weights and running. She isn't 
even taking any drugs. She thinks she is Rocky."

The two Russians chuckled at the reference to the ridiculous movie 
that showed a boxer becoming a champion with no help from the state.

"That sounds good Comrade Doctor, but I still hate to stake my 
future on the outcome of a fight. Things can go wrong in a fight. 
All of my plans could be ruined if Erika gets in one lucky punch."

"Yes they could. That is why I have developed this."

Doctor Dorstoy produced a small vial of golden liquid which he 
handed to the General.

"What is it?"

"That is what will ensure that nothing is left to chance. Without 
going into the science behind it, that drug can prevent a fighter's 
brain from being scrambled by a punch. Erika will not be able to 
knock Natasha out no matter how hard she hits her. I have a 
demonstration if you wish to see it."

"Show me."

Doctor Dorstoy placed a tape in the General's Japanese made VCR and 
pushed play. The monitor displayed Natasha Chutesov sparring with a 
man.

"This man was a former army boxing champion. Now watch as Natasha 
hits him."

The tape showed half a dozen different clips from their sparring 
sessions. All of them ended with Natasha knocking the man senseless.

Doctor Dorstoy continued, "The next clip shows Natasha's sparring 
partner after he has been injected with the drug."

The tape showed Natasha avoiding the man's attempts to hit her, and 
then she delivered a crushing uppercut to his jaw. Expecting the man 
to go down, Natasha was more surprised than hurt when he punched her 
square in the face. Natasha returned the favor with a right hook 
that snapped the man's head to the side. Again, the surprise was 
evident on her face when he didn't go down. Trapping him against the 
ropes, Natasha started unloading on him with a series of punches to 
the head that sent him cowering in a corner. Natasha beat him to his 
knees, but he remained fully alert and conscious as her trainers 
pulled her off of him.

"As you can see, Natasha hit the man with at least two dozen blows 
that would have previously knocked him out." 

"Impressive. What happened to him?"

"He suffered a broken jaw and a concussion, but he could have 
continued."

"Is the drug safe?" 

"It could eventually  cause severe liver damage, but nothing that 
will effect her before she has served her purpose."

"Excellent! And are we doing anything to see that Erika does not 
arrive in Moscow in peak condition?"

"We have not been able to penetrate the complex, but Erika does 
occasionally visit the surrounding towns, which from what I have 
heard, might contain a certain criminal element know to prey on 
young women."

The men shared another knowing chuckle.



Sharon wasn't at all surprised when Erika came back from her date 
with Klaus with blood on her dress and a lump on her head, but she 
was somewhat mystified when she heard Erika's story.

"Vwe vwent to a beer hall zat Klaus knows in Leipzig vwhere vwe got 
into a beer drinking contest vwith two of his friends. Poor Klaus, I 
can barely hold more zan a dozen glasses because my abs are so 
tight. He had to drink nearly half a keg for us to vwin."

"You were going to tell me about the fight."

"Ja, it vwas strange. Vwe vwere vwalking back to my Mercedes vwhen 
three large men jumped out of a van und attacked me."

"Just you? They didn't go after Klaus?"

"Zey never got zee chance. I vwas in front, und zey didn't get zat 
far."

Erika held up her skinned knuckles for Sharon to examine.

"Hmmm, I wonder if somebody doesn't want you to fight. Well, all I 
have to say is that you had better watch out."

"I always do."

"Really? Then why do you have a lump on your head?"

"Misses Klaus."
  
"Misses Klaus?"

"Ja, she jumped out of zee bushes und vwacked me vwhen I took Klaus 
home. Misses Klaus is one badass vwoman vwith a rolling pin."



In addition to following Sharon's training schedule, Erika also 
attended two of Karl's masochistic abdominal sessions per week. 
After eight weeks of training, Erika's torso was as hard as iron. 
Erika abdominals had always been strong, but now muscle rippled up 
and down her sides, protecting her stomach and ribs like armor. She 
could easily go an hour with Karl's sadistic trainers. It got to the 
point where Karl had to work the men in shifts because Erika was 
outlasting them.

Today's session was the last. With the fight two weeks away, Erika 
was as ready as she'd ever be. The session was scheduled to last an 
hour, but Erika was having so much fun, Sharon let it go an extra 
ten minutes. The dull thud of leather meeting flesh filled the gym 
as Erika laughed and taunted her trainers.

"Wimps! You punch like little girls."

The thuds grew louder as the men grew angry at her comments, but 
soon lulled as they tired.

"Is that the best you can do? You should trade in your boxing gloves 
in for a pair of knitting needles."

Sharon called time and the men stripped off their gloves and slumped 
on a bench to rest. Erika dropped from the leather harness to land 
lightly on her feet. Sharon slapped her stomach and congratulated 
her.

"Great job Erika! Natasha's going to break her hands on you."

"Zat is the idea. But I must be sure. Please test me."

"Are you sure Erika?"

"You vwork the body harder than any fighter I have ever faced. If I 
can take it from you, I can laugh at her. If I can't, I must know 
now."

Sharon nodded and pulled on a pair of gloves. Erika put her hands 
behind her head and flexed. Muscle seemed to leap to attention all 
over her body. The other fighters in the gym gathered around to 
watch. Over the past two months, Sharon had kept herself amused by 
beating the hell out of every boxer who was foolish enough to try 
her. They knew from experience that she could put down almost any 
man with a few solid body shots.

Sharon positioned herself in front of Erika. Placing her gloved 
hands on Erika's sides, she studied the German's glistening torso 
for a moment as if it was a fine piece of sculpture. Without 
warning, she exploded into action. Her fists sounded like machine 
guns as she pounded on Erika's lower abs. Sharon gradually aimed her 
punches higher until she was catching Erika just under the sternum. 
After going flat out for a minute, Sharon finished up with a dozen 
devastating hooks to her sides.

Silence filled the gym for a few seconds. Some of the fighters swore 
they saw wisps of steam coming off of Erika's body. Then everybody 
burst into applause as Sharon wrapped her arms around Erika in a big 
bear hug and slapped her on the back.

"You're ready Erika. Now go take a shower and get dressed to kill. 
We're going out to celebrate. And if you're good, maybe I'll have a 
surprise for you."



That evening, the two girls drove an hour to the hottest Western 
style night club in the area. Erika was dressed in a pink blouse and 
black leather mini. Sharon was a bit more conservative, wearing 
tight jeans, a sleeveless white blouse, and a black leather vest. As 
always, the two ultimate hard bodied females were the center of 
attention. 

After dancing and drinking beer for almost two hours, Erika leaned 
across to Sharon and yelled over the loud music, "Vwhat is my 
surprise?" 

"I think I see it coming now. Just sit there and don't turn around."

Erika thought that Sharon had flown her husband Jack over to see 
her. So it actually was a genuine surprise to her when she felt a 
pair of arms wrap around her and pluck her two hundred pounds off 
her stool as if she were a child. The arms belonged to a female, and 
since Erika didn't think that Sharon had invited Natasha to the 
party, it could only be one person.

"Ava!"

Ava released her and they shared a friendly embrace. Finding a 
relatively quite table in the back, they caught up on old times.

Erika started off by saying, "I'm sorry I haven't talked to you in a 
while, but I've been busy training. So what are you doing on your 
feet? The last I heard, you were still in the hospital."

"The doctors operated and managed to relieve the pressure on my 
spinal chord. I was lucky, I regained the use of my legs the next 
day. And I have you to thank Erika. You made sure that I had the 
best possible care. I also appreciate the way you handled Monique. I 
heard that the bitch might never come back out of her kennel after 
the beating you gave her. I just wish I could repay you."

"Well, since you seem to have regained your strength, perhaps you 
can. How would you like to come to Russia with us and help work my 
corner?" Erika asked.

"I'd be honored," Ava replied.

As they talked, a half dozen large men approached their table. From 
the way they were dressed, and the expressions on their faces, it was 
clear that they weren't about to ask them to dance. The three women 
rose to meet them as the men suddenly produced brass knuckles, 
blackjacks, and batons.

Sharon took a step forward and said, "Six armed men against three 
women? It's hardly fair. They should have brought more guys. Before 
we begin, I just want to warn you that I have a black belt in ball 
busting."

Faster than they could react, Sharon darted in low and took out the 
two middle men with groin punches. Erika and Ava went for the men on 
the ends. Ava's opponent tried to hit her with brass knuckles. The 
female shot-putter caught the man's fist in her hand and bent it back 
until his wrist snapped. A kick under the chin finished him off.

Erika's man swung his baton at her head. Erika caught the man's 
wrist and stopped it dead. The man swung a punch at the side of her 
head with his free hand, but she blocked it with her arm. Drawing 
back her foot, Erika punted a fifty yard field goal with the man's 
testicles. 

As he curled into a fetal position praying for death, Erika plucked 
the club from his hand and asked, "Do I look like Nancy Kerrigan?"

Sharon was standing between the remaining men, simultaneously 
engaging them in a fist fight. Ava was about to dive in, but Erika 
stopped her.

"Lets watch."

Sharon was on fire. The two men looked like they were moving in slow 
motion as she bobbed and weaved between them. Their clumsy attempts 
to hit her were met with crisp punches that never seemed to miss. 
Establishing a rhythm, Sharon actually managed to put both of her 
opponents on the defensive.

Erika leaned over to Ava and said, "That is why she was the champion."

Sharon finished her opponents with a matching pair of right and left 
uppercuts. As they swayed on their feet, she grabbed each of them by 
the lapels. Her biceps swelled like baseballs as she yanked them 
together to butt heads. Releasing them, she let them fall to the 
floor like sacks of potatoes.

"What the hell was that all about?" Sharon asked.

Nudging one of the men with her foot, Erika said, "I think I have a 
clue. This one is crying for his mamma in Russian. Obviously, 
somebody in Moscow is afraid I might win."



            THE PRIZEFIGHT XXIV: Erika Vs. Natasha
            --------------------------------------


Fight night opened in the former Olympic stadium just outside of 
Moscow. Tens of thousands of people made their way to their seats as 
dozens of television cameras and crews started their coverage. Most 
of the people in the crowd had come expecting nothing more than a 
bit of amusement in their otherwise bleak lives. Some of the crowd 
who had seen Natasha Chutesov fight men before had come to witness 
the spectacle of seeing her slaughter a woman stupid enough to get 
in the ring with her. The first few rows of seats were heavily laced 
with underground fight fans who actually appreciated the fact that 
they were about to see two of the best boxers in the world strap on 
the gloves to settle their differences. Perhaps twenty or thirty 
people in that vast crowd understood the political implications of 
the fight, and what it might mean to the balance of power in the 
world. But of all the people watching tonight's fight, only two 
understood what it was really about, and they would express it in 
completely opposite ways. They were the fighters, Natasha and Erika, 
and tonight they would both be fighting both for their principles.
There would be no negotiations, no compromises, no mercy, only a 
winner and a loser. At a ringside table, Erika's commentators were 
starting their pre-fight show for the huge English speaking audience 
watching in America and England.

"Hello, my name is Marv Abram, and with me tonight is the fight 
doctor, Ferdie Pellino, and joining us is former heavyweight boxer 
Timmy 'The Gattling Gun' Norris. We are here tonight in Moscow to 
bring you one of the most unusual boxing matches you are ever likely 
to see. Tonight, the former German women's heavyweight boxing 
champion Erika Shotze-Moore takes on the current Russian champion 
Natasha Chutesov. For those of you who haven't seen women fight 
before, let me assure you that they usually put on a better show 
than the men, and tonight we have two of the best female boxers in 
the world going at it. And if that isn't enough to get your 
attention, perhaps the rules for the fight will. Would you care to 
explain Doctor."

"I'd be glad to Marv. Basically, the rules for tonight's fight were 
worked out between the fighters, and what they've come up with 
is very similar to the rules that a fighter like John L. Sullivan 
had to box under a century ago. There are no scheduled number of 
rounds for tonight's fight. There are no judges, only a referee. The 
only way this fight will end is if one of these women wins by a 
knockout or if her opponent quits. And based on what we've been 
hearing, that isn't likely."

"That's right Ferdie. It's no secret that there is bad blood between 
these two fighters. In fact, that seems to be the only reason this 
contest is occurring tonight. There is no sanctioning body for 
tonight's fight, no title at stake, and no purse for the winner. 
These women are fighting for the most basic reason of all - to see 
who is the best. No doubt most of our audience has never heard of 
either of these fighters, but I understand that you have some 
background information about them."

"That's right Marv. Both of these fighters have interesting 
backgrounds. Erika Shotze-Moore is twenty four years old. She was 
born in a small farming community in East Germany and spent most of 
her youth growing up in Leipzig as part of that country's Olympic 
track and field team. When the wall came down, she moved into West 
Germany where she became a boxer. She quickly captured the women's 
heavyweight title and retired two years later with a record of 
twenty four wins, no losses. She even achieved some amount of 
notoriety in Europe when she defeated a top ranked male pro in a 
highly publicized exhibition match. She moved to America less than 
two years ago and married former Chicago Golden Gloves champion Jack 
Moore. They currently live in Chicago and teach boxing at a local 
youth center. Erika's boxing career only started again recently when 
she emerged four months ago to beat the English women's champion. 
She is currently ranked number two in the world by the International 
Women's Boxing Association." 

"Natasha Chutesov is a more enigmatic figure. She is twenty three 
years old and a Moscow native. Like Erika, she was also a member of 
her country's Olympic track and field team. She was banned from 
international competition when she was nineteen after failing 
several drug tests. Since then, she has been boxing professionally 
throughout Russia. She belongs to no boxing organizations, and 
nobody is quite sure of what her exact record is, but she claims to 
be undefeated fighting exclusively against men."

"Thank you Doctor for that report. Now lets turn our attention to a 
man I'm sure all boxing fans will recognize, former heavyweight 
contender, Timmy 'The Gattling Gun' Neilson. Timmy, you spent the 
last few days with these women, what impressions did you come away 
with?"

"Well Marv, the biggest impression that I want to convey to our 
audience is that both these women are serious fighters and 
legitimate heavyweights. Erika Moore is six feet tall, and weighs in 
at over two hundred pounds. Natasha Chutesov is six two and will 
come in at about two forty. And there isn't an ounce of fat to be 
found between these two women. I got to spend two days in Leipzig, 
Germany where Erika's training camp is located. And let me tell you, 
her training regimen would put most men down for the count. In fact, 
I even got a chance to spar with her."

"I hope you took it easy on her."

"Are you kidding? I think she was taking it easy on me. You wouldn't 
believe how fast and strong this woman is. I could name at least 
three top male heavyweight contenders that she could beat right now."

"Surely you're exaggerating?"

"No I'm not Marv. And if you think that I'm predicting a one sided 
fight, you're wrong. I spent a few hours at Natasha's gym yesterday 
and watched her go through what they told me was a light workout. 
And based on what I saw, they couldn't pay me enough to get into the 
ring with her. The woman has bigger arms than I do. I saw her 
lifting some weights that would crush most male powerlifters. I 
didn't get to see her box, but considering her reputation, I think 
she knows what she's doing in the ring also."

"So what would your predictions for the fight be?"

"Well, both of these women have a great deal of stamina. Natasha has 
the strength advantage, Erika has the speed advantage. And like you 
mentioned before, there's no love lost between these two women. I 
have no idea who's going to win, but I think it's safe to predict 
that we're about to see a war."

"What about the rules?"

"Like the Fight Doctor mentioned before, there are no judges and no 
set number of rounds. Last woman standing wins. And there's 
something that I just discovered back in Erika's dressing room - 
these women aren't using anything close to regulation boxing gloves. 
They're almost unpadded. I checked with Erika's coach, and there 
isn't any mistake, Natasha will be wearing the same kind of gloves. 
Basically, these women just want to beat the shit out of each other. 
Can I say 'shit' on pay-per-view?"
 
"You just did Tim."



Back in her dressing room, Erika sat calmly on a table while Bob 
worked to tape the German's fists.

As Bob was finishing up, Sharon said to the German girl, "I'm not 
going to ask you if you're ready. We both know that you are. I 
understand how important this fight is to you and why. The only 
thing that I'm going to tell you is to go out there and win. Win for 
your country, win for the free world, but most of all, win for 
yourself."

"Before I face her Sharon, I vwant to thank you again for all you 
have done for me. Not just vwhat you have done for me in the last 
few months, but vwhat you have done for my life. You have given me a 
home, a husband, und a family. If I die today fighting for what I 
believe in, I vwant you to remember zat I died a happy woman."

"Lets not have any of that kind of talk."

"Zere are still some things you don't understand about this 
situation und vwhich I don't have time to explain. But I vwant you 
to promise me, zat no matter vwhat happens in the ring tonight, you 
vwon't interfere." 

Sharon swallowed hard and said, "I promise. Now lets go out there 
and kick that bitch's ass."

Erika smiled for the first time that day as she replied, "Ja, vwe 
vwill."



In Natasha's dressing room, Doctor Dorstoy was injecting her huge 
triceps muscle with a golden liquid that he claimed would prevent 
Erika from knocking her out. The doctor had volunteered the 
information as Natasha didn't even bother asking about her 
injections anymore. Earlier that morning, she had undergone the 
"blood doping" process where she was transfused with two extra 
quarts of her own blood which had been taken from her a few months 
earlier. As a result, she was feeling so pumped that her muscles and 
veins were threatening to explode. The stimulants that she had been 
given made her feel like she could take on the whole of NATO and 
win. They also made it difficult for her to sit still even for the 
few seconds the doctor needed to give her the last shot before the 
fight. 

Like Erika, there was much more at stake for her than just revenge. 
The future of her country might well depend on her victory tonight. 
It was the reason she had allowed the Doctors to transform her into 
what she had become - a weapon. The day before, Natasha had met her 
sponsor General Zebrinski, and had assured him that she would beat 
Erika. But that was only half true. Natasha didn't just intend to 
beat her opponent, she was going to kill her.



As it had been agreed to, Erika was the first to enter the ring in 
the center of the massive stadium. The crowd stirred with 
anticipation at the appearance of the first fighter. Erika was 
wearing knee length white trunks, a brief white top, white boots, 
and red gloves. She would have worn a white hat if she thought it 
would make her message any clearer. Her white uniform contrasted 
beautifully with her with golden skin. Her long blonde hair was 
braided in a ponytail that went halfway down her back. Her lightly 
oiled muscles were large and well defined without looking bulky. 
Erika radiated power. She was an animal in her prime, prepared to 
meet any challenge.

Erika's opponent entered the stadium from the opposite side to the 
accompaniment of the Soviet national anthem. The crowd went wild at 
the sight of the huge woman followed by half a dozen attendants. 
Natasha stopped briefly to shake hands with General Zebrinski who was 
sitting ringside to watch tonight's fight.

Natasha stepped through the ropes, giving Erika her first good look 
at her in nine years. Natasha was wearing a red top, black boots, 
red gloves, and red trunks with a conspicuous golden hammer and 
sickle logo. She had short, blonde hair that looked almost white. 
Her hair blended with her pasty white flesh and pale blue eyes, 
giving her an almost albino appearance. But what everyone noticed 
was her massive musculature. Her arms were huge and vascular. Each 
of her abdominal muscles protruded like half a beer can. Her neck 
looked thick as a bull's. Even her legs, not usually too developed 
on a boxer, looked like a pair of white watermelons sticking out 
from beneath her trunks.

A brief announcement was made in Russian introducing both of the 
fighters. The referee then invited the two of them to the center of 
the ring. The fighters faced each other from five feet apart as the 
rules where recited to them. Natasha was the first to speak. 

"You will now pay traitor," she said.

"To be a traitor, you must first be loyal, and I was never loyal to 
your cause which does nothing more than enslave people. And you are 
the ultimate slave, a person reduced to being nothing more than a 
tool. And the worst part is, you welcomed it," Erika responded.

"As you will welcome death you traitorous bitch. I will break you."

"After this fight, you will be back where you belong, serving Mother 
Russia by eating hay and pulling a plow."

The referee finished his instructions and asked the fighters to 
shake hands. Ignoring his gestures, they both turned their backs on 
each other and returned to their corners to await the bell. Erika 
felt reassured as she stood in her corner backed up by Sharon, Bob, 
and Ava. Not only were they the best corner crew a fighter could 
hope to have, they were her best friends as well.

"There's something wrong with that woman," Sharon observed.

"You just figured zat out?" Erika asked.

"No, that's not what I mean. Something's not right about her, she 
looks... unnatural. I've seen plenty of people on drugs and 
steroids, but I've never seen anything like Natasha. The way she's 
twitching, her breathing, the way her veins are throbbing, she just 
doesn't look human."

"She bleeds red just like I do. Und if you don't believe me, just 
vwait a minute."

The bell sounded and the two fighters met at the center of the ring. 
Erika connected first with two lightning fast jabs that Natasha 
didn't even see coming. Natasha responded with a right designed to 
take the German's head off, but Erika easily ducked it and hooked a 
left to her ribs. Ignoring the punches, Natasha caught Erika with an 
uppercut to her sternum that landed with a hollow thud. Retreating a 
bit, Erika continued to jab at her opponent with amazing accuracy. 
Natasha followed her until Erika was on the ropes. When Erika tried 
to move left, Natasha stepped in close with a right hook to the 
shoulder that stopped her cold. Crowding Erika, Natasha called upon 
her massive upper body to deliver an attack that had killed men 
before. Her fists pistoned into Erika's rippled stomach in an 
attempt to rip through into her soft internal organs. Punch after 
punch connected flush on Erika's torso sounding like a side of beef 
being pounded by a sledgehammer.

Natasha knew something was seriously wrong. No man had ever been 
able to withstand half the punishment that Erika had taken. Looking 
up into her opponents face, she saw a sight that chilled her. Erika 
was smiling. With a savage scream, Natasha put her whole body into a 
straight right that would turn Erika's face to pulp. But her punch 
hit nothing but air as she flew into the ropes and nearly fell out 
of the ring. Turning around, she had no time to react as she saw 
Erika's right cross rocketing towards her. Erika's punch connected 
flush on Natasha's chin with so much force that the big Russian 
actually spun halfway around as she was ripped off her feet and 
flung to the canvas face first. 

Erika turned and took a step towards a neutral corner when 
she heard Sharon yell, "Watch out!"

Erika felt Natasha's gloved fist brush by the top of her head as she 
responded to Sharon's warning by ducking and taking a quick step 
to the left. Facing her attacker, it was Erika's turn to feel 
chilled. Her punch should have knocked the Russian out cold, but 
here Natasha was, firing punch after punch at her as she retreated 
around the ring. At the very least, the knockdown should have left 
the big Russian dazed for a few moments. So be it, Erika thought as 
she made a stand in the center of the ring and started to exchange 
punches with her nemesis. The bell sounded, but neither woman was 
backing off. The referee tried to get in between the two combatants, 
but was caught by one of Natasha's elbows that sent him flying. 

Both corners yelled at their fighters to back off. Sharon gave up 
first because she knew that the hard headed German girl had heard 
her and didn't care. The timekeeper rang the bell for round two as 
the fighters continued to pour it on. Erika had so far managed to 
confine Natasha's punches to her well conditioned body by 
frustrating Natasha's attempts to hit her in the head with her speed 
and agility. In the meantime, she had been willing to exchange her 
body for Natasha's face, and her work was beginning to pay some 
dividends. Natasha's face was reddening and a mouse was already 
forming under her right eye. Erika planned to continue this 
strategy because she knew she couldn't afford to take a solid shot 
to the head. When Natasha had her trapped on the ropes, she had been 
hitting her harder than any opponent had ever hit her before. Not 
even Sharon had come close to being able to hit that hard. Erika 
knew that no amount of training could prevent the possibility of a 
knockout if Natasha managed to connect. 

After seven minutes of fighting, the bell sounded ending round two. 
Everyone in the arena was still for a moment as they waited to see 
what the two fighters would do. After exchanging a few more punches, 
both fighters hesitated. Looking into each other's eyes, they both 
knew that this fight wouldn't be over anytime soon. With a silent 
agreement passing between them, they both returned to their corners 
without turning their backs on each other. As soon as she reached 
her corner, Ava doused Erika with water as Sharon interrogated her.

"What's going on out there Erika? That punch you hit her with should 
have broken her bull neck. But that bitch was up before the ref even 
had a chance to start counting."

"Ja, it vwas a perfect punch. You vwere right, there is something 
unnatural about her. But everything about her is wrong."

"Can you take her punches?"

"Ja. I can handle her for awhile. But she had better start to tire 
soon."

Both fighters maintained the pace in the third round. Midway 
through, Natasha snuck an overhand right over the top of Erika's 
gloves. Natasha's knuckles dug in through the thin leather and 
ripped Erika's skin like tissue paper, opening an inch long gash 
to the side of her left eye. Erika managed to maintain her composure 
and finish the round without any further damage, but Sharon was 
clearly concerned when she returned to her corner. Without wasting 
any time, Bob grabbed his cut kit and went to work. 

"It's a nasty gash, but you're lucky. Another inch to the right and 
the blood would be blinding you."

By the time the bell sounded for round four, Bob had managed to stop 
the bleeding. Sharon warned Erika to keep Natasha from hitting her 
there again as the warrior returned to the fray. Round four saw the 
action continuing fast and furious, but with no significant damage 
done to either fighter. Then with a minute left, Erika took 
advantage of another one of the Russian's over-muscled swings and 
delivered a short, straight left to her nose. Erika felt the 
satisfying feeling of cartilage breaking under her knuckles as 
Natasha's nose was completely flattened against her face.

Everyone in the stadium was shocked at what happened next. Blood 
started to pump out of Natasha's nostrils as if an artery had been 
severed. Within a few seconds, her whole chest was soaked and it was 
beginning to dribble down her stomach. Natasha bellowed like an ox 
and charged Erika with her arms wide open. Erika tried to stop the 
woman with another punch to the center of the face, but Natasha 
managed to move her head aside so that it glanced off her huge 
deltoid. Inside Erika's guard, the Russian scooped her up around 
the waist as she continued her forward motion. Erika beat on her 
opponent's broad back, but it was useless. The referee barely 
managed to scramble out of the way as Natasha rammed Erika's lower 
back into the top turnbuckle causing the whole ring to shake. The 
German woman threw back her head and screamed in agony. Continuing 
the bear hug, the Russian used her tree trunk legs to grind Erika's 
back in the corner. Sharon could see the agony on Erika's face as 
she desperately tried to free herself by pushing against Natasha's 
shoulders. The referee rushed over and started to pound on the 
Russian's back and yelled for her to stop, but the big woman gave no 
indication that she heard him. 

Back at ringside, Bob was trying to keep Sharon from climbing 
through the ropes. Sharon was scared. She had never heard the stoic 
German cry out like that before. Whatever injury she had suffered 
was bad, and the big Russian was enjoying making it worse. 

Trying to be heard over the roar of the crowd, Sharon yelled, 
"Erika, box her ears!"

The young blonde woman briefly made eye contact with Sharon and then 
raised her fists and smashed them into the sides of the Russian's 
head. Natasha only grunted and started pressing in harder. Again, 
Erika pounded the Russian's ear drums. This time she felt the big 
woman's steely grasp relax a bit. Pushing Natasha's head back with 
her left hand, Erika raised her right arm and then brought her elbow 
smashing down on the Russian's shattered nose. Placing both hands on 
the Russian's chest, Erika exploded with a push that managed to 
break Natasha's hold and send her flying onto her back in the center 
of the ring.

Free of the corner, Erika dropped to the canvas and tried to get up. 
Hammered by another wave of agony, she went down clutching her back. 
Seeing both women down, the referee started to count. Not being hurt 
too badly, Natasha was up by three and retreated to a neutral corner 
to watch Erika crawl on the canvas like a spider with half its legs 
ripped off. Erika was conscious of the count through the red cloud 
that surrounded her. Turning into the corner, she grabbed the ropes, 
and with a superhuman effort, she lifted herself arm over arm until 
she was able to get her feet under her and stop the count. 

Natasha didn't even let the ref think about delaying the fight as 
she plowed past him and started to wail away on Erika as she tried 
to cover up in the corner. Fortunately for the German, the round was 
over twenty seconds later. Unfortunately, Natasha didn't care. As 
she continued to rain blows on Erika's head, Sharon and Ava jumped 
through the ropes and inserted themselves in front of their friend. 
There were a few tense moments as Ava and Natasha stood chest to 
chest.

Then Natasha pointed at Erika with her leather clad fist and said, 
"Next round."

Breaking away from Ava, she returned to her corner. Sharon wrapped 
an arm around Erika's back and helped her over to where Bob was 
waiting with the stool. As soon as she was down, Bob started probing 
her back where an ugly, hand sized bruise was already forming. Erika 
suddenly stiffened and let out a yelp as he touched her spine. 

"Talk to me Erika, what are you feeling?" Bob asked.

"I vwill be fine."

"None of your Teutonic bullshit! Answer the question!"

"I'm sorry. I feel like a knife is stuck in my back. My left leg 
feels like it vwas hit by a baseball bat, und it is starting to get 
numb."

"Ok. I don't think your back is broken, but at the very least, you 
have a slipped or ruptured disk. You can still fight, but the pain 
isn't going to get any better. If anything, it's going to get worse, 
a lot worse. Do you want to keep going?"

"Ja."

"I knew you'd say that."

Sharon, Bob, and Ava watched from ringside as Erika became Natasha's 
helpless punching bag through the next five rounds. The pain on her 
face was evident for everyone watching as she tried to dodge the 
worst of the Russian's punches. Her iron hard torso was still able 
to take the punishment, but every time Natasha hit her with a body 
shot, it felt like the knife in her back was being twisted. 

What little luck Erika had left ran out halfway through the tenth 
round. Natasha had continued to pound away on her like a meat 
tenderizing machine. She concentrated mostly on Erika's body, but 
had been throwing occasional head shots to test Erika's guard. Erika 
had tried to maintain some sort of offense, targeting quick, 
accurate punches at the Russian's chin. And she had been successful. 
Several times, she had connected with the kind of brain scrambling 
blows that would have put any normal man or woman down. But as she 
had discovered in the first round, Natasha didn't react like a 
normal fighter. 

By now, both fighters where slicked with sweat and blood. Most of 
the blood had come early on from Natasha's broken nose, but all of 
it had been Erika's since as the Russian's hard leather gloves had 
ripped open several cuts and abrasions on her face. The swelling 
that had first started under her left eye had now nearly shut it 
completely. As a result, she never saw the huge roundhouse right 
that Natasha had launched past one of her defensive jabs. All she 
felt was the sudden pressure on the side of her face and the snap of 
her cheekbone fracturing before the world went black.

Bob felt Sharon's fingers bite painfully into his arm where she had 
been holding him when they saw Natasha's punch connect. She should 
have seen the punch coming a mile away, but it was clear that she 
was blind on her left side. The crack resounded through the arena 
and Erika crumpled sideways to the canvas. She lay still, her eyes 
closed, her bloody mouthpiece half out as the referee started his 
count. Everybody in the gigantic stadium thought the fight was over. 
Not even Sharon thought that it was possible for Erika to get up. 
But there was one person who still had faith in Erika. The one 
person who knew her best. And her voice started to yell in German as 
she pounded the ring apron.

Sharon looked at Ava as if she were a lunatic. The German shotputter 
was yelling at Erika's unconscious form. And if her limited 
understanding of German was correct, Ava was yelling at Erika to 
get up and milk the cows. Time seemed to slow as the count 
progressed. Ava yelled again as the count reached five and Erika's 
eyes fluttered open as she mouthed the word "Papa?". Hearing the 
referee count six seemed to immediately enlighten her as to what her 
situation was. A surge of adrenaline hit her as she fought past the 
blinding pain and quickly lurched to her feet at the count of nine. 
An enraged Natasha stormed past the referee, and started to beat on 
Erika with little regard as to where her blows landed. 

"Go down you bitch!" she screamed as she rained punches down onto 
the top of Erika's head and shoulders.

Weathering the storm on wobbly knees, Erika knew she had to do 
something drastic to survive the round. Seeing that Natasha wasn't 
even making a pretense at defense, she continued to crouch lower as 
if she was being beaten down - which was not entirely an act. Using 
the lesson that Sharon had taught her with Sam, she gathered herself 
and launched a straight right upwards towards the Russian's chin 
using her legs and putting her whole body behind it. The punch 
landed so hard that she felt the shock pass through her and strike 
her injured back like a harpoon. The pain was so great that she fell 
to her knees. But the effect on the Russian was greater. Natasha was 
lifted off her feet and thrown onto her back with a mighty crash.

The referee again started the duel count. Erika got back on her feet 
at the count of four and slowly backed into a corner to watch her 
opponent. Despite the drug, Natasha was stunned. The big Russian lay 
on her back shaking her head, her chest heaving. Erika was beginning 
to feel a glimmer of hope as the count reached six. But then Natasha 
stopped shaking her head. Every muscle in her body tensed, 
threatening to explode as she cried out in rage. Clutching her fists 
tightly, she leapt to her feet as the entire stadium burst into 
thunderous applause.

Erika's spirits were crushed as Natasha bore down on her again as if 
it was the first round and the fight had just started. She managed 
to hang on until the bell sounded, but she didn't have any hope 
left. As she sat on the stool watching the time in the break 
disappear quickly, she analyzed her situation. The big Russian had 
taken her best punches without any noticeable effect. And Natasha had 
already inflicted more damage on her than Sharon had when she had 
been handed her first loss. Only her phenomenal physical 
conditioning and will had kept her on her feet to this point. 
Natasha fought like a robot, unstoppable and relentless, but she was 
only human. The injury to her back had threatened to black her out 
several times from the pain alone. She had tried to get by it, but 
it could not be ignored. She had withstood Natasha's hardest 
punches, but she knew she was paying the price. Her midsection was 
threatening to fail, and she couldn't feel the left side of her face. 
Barring some miracle, she knew she couldn't win. And if she went on, 
there was a very real possibility that she might die. That's why 
Sharon's question was the toughest one she had ever faced in her 
life.

"Do you want to continue?" she asked.

Erika didn't answer for a few seconds. She knew she should give up, 
but it just wasn't in her being. She was incapable of giving any 
other answer than the one she did.

Turning her head so that she could see Sharon through her good eye, 
she replied, "Ja."

Sharon also knew what the answer would be, but she still looked sick 
when she heard it. Bob tried to remain calm as he worked to stop the 
bleeding. A tear rolled down Ava's cheek. 

With a few seconds remaining in the break, Ava leaned in close to 
her best friend, and said, "Your father would be proud of you."

And then in those last remaining seconds, Ava's words transported 
her back to her father's farm where she had been born. She heard her 
father's familiar voice telling her to get up and milk the cows. She 
remembered him as he playfully tossed his little girl into the air 
to land in a haystack. She also remembered seeing the look on his 
face as he had waved good-bye to her as she was taken by the 
communists. And finally, she remembered her feelings as she was 
allowed to leave Leipzig for a few brief hours to attend the 
funeral. And suddenly there was no pain, there was no crowd, even 
Sharon, Bob, and Ava were gone. All that remained was Natasha and 
herself, and only one of them could continue to exist.

Sharon was scared as the bell rang for the eleventh round. She had 
been trying to talk to Erika, but the girl didn't seem to have heard 
a word that she said. She just got up off her stool and marched to 
the center of the ring where an amazing thing happened.

Natasha came out of her corner sensing victory. She was even happier 
to see Erika deliver herself to the center of the ring like a 
sacrificial lamb. Winding up, she delivered a left-right combination 
to Erika's thick abdominal wall followed by another combination to 
the German's head. The punches should have put her down again, but 
Erika just rolled with them and came back up staring at her through 
her good eye. And what Natasha saw in that eye scared her. Before 
she had seen pain and confusion, now all she saw was a cold fire 
burning inside.

Erika responded to Natasha's attack with two right hands to the side 
of her opponent's face. The Russian was too shocked for a moment to 
do anything about it, but then manage to cover up. Switching her 
attack down low, Erika bore in with a series of rights and lefts 
that thudded into Natasha's body with renewed strength. The Russian 
was driven back against the ropes where she managed to regain her 
composure and fight back. Erika's mobility had returned as she 
slipped punch after punch while inflicting heavy damage. The 
Russian's broken nose started bleeding profusely again, and Erika 
opened another cut under her right eye. In the last thirty seconds 
of the round, Erika finished up with a flurry so devastating that it 
left the entire crowd speechless. When the bell sounded, Erika 
stopped and confronted the stunned Russian. With a flex of her 
pumped triceps, she gave Natasha a hard shove that sent her 
stumbling backwards towards her corner.

"For my father, bitch!" Erika spat at her opponent. Returning to her 
corner, Erika told Bob, "Take zee stool away. I vwill stand until 
zis is over."

Sharon started to protest, but one look from Erika silenced her 
instantly. Standing quietly in her corner, she stared at Natasha 
like a piece of meat. The bell rang, and Erika approached her 
opponent. The ring lighting caught Erika from behind, reflecting off 
of the woman's blond hair and sweat slicked muscles with a halo 
effect. Even though she knew that it couldn't be, it appeared to 
Natasha that Erika loomed over her as they opened the twelfth round 
with a vicious exchange of punches.

Erika was on the offensive, avoiding the worst of her opponents 
punches and getting inside the big Russian's reach. Her attack 
snapped Natasha's head around and opened up a deep gash on her 
forehead. As before, Natasha's elevated blood pressure caused the 
wound to pump a sheet of blood down the side of her face. Additional 
punches spread the blood over the ring and splattered the first few 
rows of seats with a red rain.



General Zebrinski wiped Natasha's blood off his face with a silk 
handkerchief. He was very displeased at the turn of events and it 
showed on his face. 

"What is going on Doctor? I thought that Natasha couldn't be beaten 
by any ordinary human."

"Please General, be patient. It's clear that this Erika is an 
extraordinary physical specimen, but she is still no match for 
Natasha. She cannot keep this up for much longer. And when she is 
spent, Natasha will destroy her."

"I hope that you are correct Doctor. Lives depend on it."

Doctor Dorstoy shifted uncomfortably at the thinly veiled threat. 
He knew the General didn't joke about such matters.



Back in Erika's corner, Sharon, Bob, and Ava buzzed around their 
charge as they prepared her for round fifteen. Sharon had stopped 
even trying to talk to the German girl. She hadn't seemed to hear a 
thing any of them had said since she had begun her miraculous 
comeback. Ordinarily, Sharon would be worried, but she could tell 
that Erika had found a place in her mind where the pain didn't 
exist, and that she shouldn't risk disturbing her.

Natasha's attendants worked furiously on her as she sat on her 
stool, her thick chest heaving like a blacksmith's bellows. She felt 
the burning sensation as her cut man used medical grade super glue 
to close her wounds. She had lost a great deal of blood and was 
feeling fatigued, but she knew that the German bitch couldn't last 
much longer. Erika had been scoring heavily on her the last few 
rounds, but it had come at a price. Despite Erika's superior speed, 
Natasha had still managed to land dozens of solid blows, any one of 
which would have cripple an average man. And when the end came, 
Natasha would be waving the hammer and sickle flag over what 
remained of the German bitch's traitorous body.

The bell sounded and Erika approached Natasha with her hands held 
low. Balling her fists so hard that she could hear the tendons in 
her wrists crackling over the roar of the crowd, she prepared to use 
what Sharon had taught her. Natasha took advantage of Erika's lowered 
guard with a left jab that Erika allowed to land. Moving in a little 
closer, Natasha smacked her opponent solidly with a straight left 
that produced a trickle of blood from her nose. Confident now that 
Erika was finally done, she launched the roundhouse right that would 
crush her temple. 

Erika timed her duck so closely that she felt the laces of the 
Russian's glove brush over her back. Stepping in toe to toe, she 
twisted and launched her right fist upward into Natasha's 
midsection. Her knuckles ripped in and split the Russian's thick 
abdominals with a whip-like crack. Taking advantage of her opponents 
awkward position, she thudded her left glove solidly into her side. 
Natasha face visibly displayed anguish for the first time in the 
fight as Erika landed the will sapping body shots. 

Natasha tried to respond to Erika's barrage with counterpunches of 
her own, but each time, her movement was interrupted by another 
crushing blow to her torso. Desperate to stop her, she lunged 
forward and tried to wrap Erika up in her massive arms. Seeing what 
the Russian was attempting, Erika stepped nimbly beneath her 
armpit and caught her with a rib-splintering punch to the side which 
sent Natasha to the canvas on all fours.

Natasha knew she was in trouble. She ached deep in her core, and 
even breathing was painful now as she listened to the count. Waiting 
until she heard "nine", the big Russian gave herself some time to 
recover as the crowd watched in silence. They cheered wildly as she 
got up just in time to continue. Putting on a tough face, she 
motioned for Erika to join her with more confidence than she really 
felt.

Natasha watched as the muscular German took her time and stalked 
her. Finding an opening, Erika went back to the body just like she 
knew she would. Tensing her torso like a brick wall, she took the 
German bitch's first two punches. Then she stepped in shoulder to 
shoulder and locked her left arm around Erika's right. As she drew 
back her own right, she saw Erika's stomach muscle's leap into 
steely definition as the German prepared to take another one of her 
body shots. But no amount of physical conditioning could have 
prepared Erika for what happened next. Crouching low, Natasha 
brought her right fist streaking between Erika's legs and burying 
itself into her crotch, rudely violating her womanhood. 

Erika's mouth formed an "O" as she stood frozen for a second. A 
second was all it took for Natasha to repeat the low blow. This time, 
Erika howled and dropped to her knees. Looking down on her 
opponent, Natasha used her right fist to smash a short, hard punch 
into the center of Erika's face. Erika flipped over onto her back 
and immediately curled up on her side in a fetal position clutching 
herself. 

The referee was yelling at her, but Natasha wasn't listening. What 
was he going to do? Take away points?

Spinning him towards her fallen opponent, she commanded, "Count!"

The crowd booed their champion as the referee reluctantly started 
his count over Erika's whimpering form. Hearing him, she rolled onto 
her stomach and tried to get up. Her first attempt failed as a spasm 
swept through her. Then, slowly and deliberately, she took a deep 
breath and rose from the canvas. For the first time in the fight, 
the Russian crowd cheered her as she made it to her feet.

Natasha stood watching in disbelief as the German got up. Nobody 
could take that kind of punishment, not even her. After a few 
seconds, she resolved to finish the traitor off once and for all, 
but before she could reach her opponent, the bell sounded.

Erika slowly returned to her corner on quivering legs. She waited 
out the break with her eyes closed and her hands tightly gripping 
the top rope. The bell sounded and both women started in on each 
other again. Neither woman had any advantage at this point. Erika's 
energy draining body punches had finally begun to take their toll on 
Natasha, but Erika was also finding it difficult to hold her iron 
will together to overcome the terrible damage that Natasha had 
inflicted on her. Both fighters knew that the end was near.

Natasha led off with a cunning right cross that caught Erika on her 
blind side. She followed up with a left hook that clipped the German 
on the top of the head. Moving to one side, Erika snaked a left into 
the Russian's broken ribs. Natasha used her right arm to protect her 
side while she wrapped her left around Erika's neck. Using her free 
hand, she tried to catch Erika with another low blow. This time 
Erika was ready as she twisted to one side and took Natasha's glove 
on her hip. Using both her hands, she tattooed the communist's 
midsection with a dozen short, chopping punches. 

Feeling the Russian trying to disengage herself, Erika looped her 
own arm around Natasha's bull neck and prepared to finish what she 
had started so many years ago. Drawing back her arm, she clenched 
her hand until the tendons in her wrist stood out like steel cables, 
turning her fist into an unyielding battering ram. Starting her 
punch, she twisted her whole body diagonally using the thick layers 
of muscle that lined her torso. Striations leapt up across her huge 
shoulder as she magnified and channeled the energy from her body 
into her arm. As the leather of her thinly padded gloves made 
contact with the area just bellow Natasha's navel, her biceps muscle 
violently contracted, digging her knuckles upwards under Natasha's 
ribcage. Erika felt her fist push past Natasha's huge abdominal 
muscles as if they were made of clay and heard her opponent gasp as 
her insides ruptured. Natasha involuntarily started to double over, 
but Erika used her shoulder to hold the big woman up while she 
delivered another five thudding rights to the pit of her stomach.

Erika couldn't hold Natasha up as the Russian went limp and wilted 
to the canvas holding her belly. The referee started his count as 
Natasha tried to get up. The blood soaked woman managed to get to 
one knee, but collapsed again as the count reached four. Crawling 
around, she reached up and grasped the middle rope in an attempt to 
haul herself to her feet. Her softball sized bicep quivered and 
shook, but she was barely able to lift her chest off the canvas 
before the rope slipped through her fingers. With one final effort, 
she rolled onto her back and tried to sit up. She barely managed to 
raise her head high enough to see Erika watching from the neutral 
corner before her badly beaten abdominals failed and her head 
dropped back to the canvas. She took the remainder of the ten count 
on her back, fully conscious of what was happening, beating her fist 
on the canvas in frustration.

The referee declared Natasha out as the crowd applauded and started 
to chant Erika's name. Erika shuffled out from the corner and 
allowed the ref to raise her hand in victory which produced an even 
louder round of cheering. She didn't relish her victory. Much like 
the end of a war, she wanted nothing more than to go home and be 
done with it. But then she caught a movement out of the side of her 
eye that caused her to see red. 

A huge rush of adrenaline coursed through her as she yelled, 
"Zebrinski!"

The General stopped and looked around as he was caught scuttling out 
of his seat with the Doctor in tow. Erika took several quick strides 
over to her fallen opponent and squatted down. Wrapping one gloved 
hand around the Russian's top and hooking the other under her 
trunks, she straightened up and dead lifted Natasha to waist level. 
Grunting with effort, she yanked the big woman up to her shoulders 
and pressed her overhead. 

The entire stadium hushed as Erika stood holding Natasha's weakly 
thrashing form. Her arms shook slightly, and every muscle on her 
body stood out as she held her opponent up for what seemed to be an 
eternity. General Zebrinski stood frozen like a deer in the 
headlights as Erika turned towards him.

Looking directly at him, she said, "Don't forget to take this with 
you."

Then, with one last supreme effort, Erika heaved Natasha over the 
top rope to land squarely on top of General Zebrinski and the 
Doctor. All three of them crashed heavily to the stadium floor. 
Everyone in the crowd watched the trio as Zebrinski struggled to get 
Natasha off of him. 

Beating on her back with his fist, he yelled, "Get off of me you 
stupid bitch!"

Then he went white as he saw the camera hovering three feet above 
him, aimed directly at his face. 

Sharon and Ava climbed through the ropes to meet Erika as she 
returned to them. Flanking her, they helped her out of the ring. The 
swelling crowd parted for the women and Bob as they made their way 
back through the underground tunnel to the locker rooms. 

As they passed into the darkness, Sharon heard Erika whisper in 
German, "Please take me home."

Then she went limp in their arms as she lost consciousness.



Two months later:

Sharon stared out her kitchen window as the German girl tried to 
prevent the dogs from utterly destroying the back yard.

"How the hell did this happen?" she muttered.

"What's that honey?" Bob asked.

"We're back where we started with a German girl and those damned 
dogs."

"Oh, come on now. Ava's not so bad."

"Not so bad? She doesn't speak any English, the dogs don't even 
listen to her, and she eats more than Erika ever did."

"We have to give Erika our full support while she's training for the 
Olympics."

"Why? She isn't even competing for our country. Don't get me wrong, 
I hope Erika wins the gold, but hasn't she ever heard of a kennel?"

"Give the girl a break. She did make the world safe for democracy. 
General Zebrinski can't even show his face in Russia anymore, let 
alone get elected as Premier. And those dogs did save your life, 
remember?"

"Well why don't we get uber vwoman und her vwonder hunds their own 
comic book. You might not know it, but things are going to get even 
worse."

"How's that?"

"Erika called my brother John behind my back and set him up with 
Ava. He's flying in tomorrow to meet her. Do you have any idea what's 
going to happen when John finds out that she can bench more than he 
can?"

"He'll probably propose to her on the spot."

"That's not funny."

"How's Jack enjoying Germany?"

"He likes it a lot. Especially that cozy little inn just outside of 
Leipzig. I'm sure he's there with Erika right now ruining the 
furniture." 



Erika checked to see if anybody was inside and then led Jack through 
the door into the girl's bathroom. Jack looked around at the cracked 
tile walls and the grungy fixtures.

"What's so special in here that you had to show me?" he asked.

"Do you see zat toilet?"

"Ja," he replied, using one of the three German words he knew.

"Vwhen I vwas fifteen, a boy, one of zee members of zee wrestling 
team, snuck in here with me und tried to kiss me right here."

Erika pointed to her inviting lips.

"You mean like this?"

Jack leaned over and tried to kiss her.

"Ja, like zat. Und then I did zis."

Erika jumped on top of him with her full two hundred pounds and bent 
him over with a head lock. Her husband fell to his knees and flailed 
around at the unexpected attack.

"Und zen I jammed his head in zee toilet like zis."

Erika started to bear down on him, driving his head towards the 
waiting bowl as he tried to pry her muscular arm from around his 
throat.

"Zee boy tried vwhat you are doing. It didn't vwork."

Jack's head was only a foot from the water now. Reaching out, he 
grabbed the edges of the seat and started pushing back.

"I'm no boy," he grunted.

Getting his feet under him, he started to stand up. This time he 
grasped her wrist with both hands and pried himself loose with a 
Herculean effort. Erika whipped around and tried to catch him again, 
but he took a quick step backward and raised his hands for a test of 
strength. 

Erika smiled and laced her fingers around his. They struggled for a 
moment, and then Jack started pushing her towards the wall. When her 
back was touching, he felt her begin to relax and let him close on 
her. When his lips were within an inch of hers, she smiled playfully 
and suddenly twisted his wrists backwards, forcing him painfully to 
the floor. Gritting his teeth, he muscled his way back up. When he 
had finally managed to get level with her, he dug in his heels and 
slammed her wrists against the wall. Her arms continued to strain, 
but her lips eagerly received his as he leaned in to claim his reward.

"So what happened to the boy?" he asked.

"I felt so bad about vwhat I did to him, I let zee next boy kiss me 
vwith only a punch in zee stomach. After zat, all zee boys said I 
vwas easy."

"And they were right Erika, you're the easiest woman I ever married."



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