Forty Five Rebellion.
By Smac.
Two mature women are lured back into the ring by........?	
Checked 7/6/2001

The two women stood and cheered along with the rest of the lively crowd.
The seconds helped the two bloody bruisers from the grubby ring.      
Sitting down they were joined by Max, the owner of the hall.          
"Enjoying yourselves girls?"
"Yes, thanks for giving us the nod, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," 
replied the blonde.	  

Her companion smiled and nodded vigorously.
"You know you're always welcome. By the way, did I tell you that there'll be 
a woman's fight next month?"
"No!" gasped the blonde.
"Oh yes, the first girls we've had here for a good two years and more. If 
there are any women boxing now, they must be doing it somewhere even I  
don't know about," he groaned, looking round the small hall.
"Do we know these two?"
"No, I shouldn't think so, they're only youngsters, they certainly haven't 
fought here before."
His eyes brightened and the germ of an idea formed in his mind.
He'd always invited these two to the boxing nights he occasionally managed  
to arrange. After all they had given sterling service at the hall themselves 
for years some time ago. More years than be cared to remember as a matter 
fact. Neither of them would see forty-five again. The blonde had, for some 
years, been the landlady of	large country pub in the home counties.	Her 
real name was Lavinia but, to her relief, most people called her Lyn. The other 
was Kathy her bar help and life long friend. In their late twenties and early 
thirties they had boxed quite regularly at the hall, mostly against each 
other but against others too if they could be found. But it was when they'd 
boxed one another that 	the punters had always been assured of their money's 
worth. Back then in the 50's this unofficial boxing behind closed doors had 
been much more popular, especially the bouts between women. Then girls would 
sometimes even be tempted up from the audience to get into the ring and fight.  
Now, it seemed to him, girls and young women, although more emancipated and 
assertive, seemed reluctant to mix it with the gloves on. They all seemed more 
concerned about maintaining their beautiful sophisticated demeanour. 
He looked at Lyn and Kath.
Their faces showed no sign at all of any injuries sustained from all the boxing 
they'd done in the past. Neither of them was beautiful by any means but they 
were still certainly very attractive and both had kept their buxom but 
well-proportioned figures.  Although Kathy, he knew, had to work hard during the 
last year or so to shed a surplus couple of stone.  They could certainly 
still pull the punters, of that he was sure.
He decided to chance his arm.
"I know it's been a long time girls, but how about you two having a bash 
next month as well? It would be marvellous to have two women's' bouts on  
the same card."
The two friends blushed and looked at each other. 
He struck again before they could reply.
"The money's a lot better than when you last fought here. I get a good rake off
from all the side betting and such."
Lyn wasn't that bothered by financial considerations but Kath, as ever  was 
on the lookout for some cash-in-hand work.
"How much are we actually talking about?" she asked, her face serious.
He paused, the wind taken out of his sails. Rubbing his stubbly chin he 
rolled his eyes , jingling the loose coins in his pocket.
"Well, I could probably manage £500, that	have to be 350 for the winner and 150 
for the loser."  
Kathy's eyes lit up. She turned to the blonde, her eyebrows raised enquiringly.
'I'm not sure,' said Lyn hesitantly, 'how are the fights organised now?'
'Well, not a lot differently than when you two fought here. You can wear what 
you like, as long as you're bare-breasted of course  The takings would die the 
death if it weren't for the tits on show, you know that only too well.  Then 
there's the gloves, six ounce as before and that's about it.'
'How many rounds?' asked Lyn warily.
"To a finish if that's alright with you.' 
'Gumshields?' queried Kathy, playing for time to think. 
'Yes, ok if you like,' he replied.
Still no response either way from the women.... 
Lyn took the initiative.
"Kath and me will talk it over on the way home and give you a bell tomorrow ok?' 
"Alright we'll leave it like that. But I'd really like to see you two back 
in action.'
They bade their farewells and left the now empty hall.
Shivering in the raw night air they hurried to where Lyn had parked her car. 
She started the engine on full choke and turned on the heater. As soon as they 
were clear of London they began to discuss Max's proposal.
'I wouldn't mind having the gloves on again, but are we fit enough, that's 
what worries me?' thought Lyn aloud.
"I'm ok, been doing aerobics and weight-training for more than a year 
now,' smiled Kathy, 'you should be alright too, you're not in bad shape.'
'Yes I suppose we've got a month or more. What do you think?"
"I'm game," grinned the red-head, "the money would certainly come in useful." 
'You make it sound as if I don't pay you enough,' laughed Lyn.
They pulled in and divested themselves of their heavy leather coats.
'Yes alright,' said Lyn when they were rolling again, 'let's go for it, I'll 
give Max a ring first thing."
The regulars at the Mitre were most surprised when Lyn threw them out promptly 
at 10.40 on the Sunday night.
'No late ones tonight, have to be up with the lark,' she called with 
a conspiratorial glance at Kathy.
They spent the first couple of hours on Monday morning clearing out a spare 
room upstairs at the pub until all that remained were the four bare walls and 
the thick pile carpet.
'I'll show you some warm up exercises that we do at the aerobics class," 
enthused Kathy.
Both took off their trainers but they kept on their jeans and t-shirts. Lying 
on the carpet they started with sit-ups.
Lyn soon tired. She was beginning to have second thoughts already.
"You'll be fine after a couple of days,' grinned Kath.
'Here we are, both of us 45 years old, training for a boxing match. I don't 
know how I get myself roped into these things,' groaned the blonde.
True, as landlady of the pub she had taken part in all kinds of events, all 
for charity. Sponsored runs, bike-rides, discos even a darts match. But this 
match wasn't darts and it certainly wasn't for charity.
'That Max could charm the birds from the trees,' she thought.
She had enjoyed, overall, her fights for him at the hall, but if nothing else 
they had always been very serious bouts. Hard fought and hard won. Losing was 
always ignominious for her and often very painful.
'Still at least the money's better now,' she mused, 'ironically I don't  
really need it now. Perhaps I'll let Kath take all the cash, she's always 
broke.'
Her friend finally tired of the gruelling sit-ups.
'Let's do some skipping instead Lyn,' she smiled, determined to keep the 
ball rolling.
They took the two lengths of cord and began to skip, slowly at first.  
Kathy mumbled some unintelligible dirge, keeping them roughly in step.  Their 
speed increased slowly, Lyn was enjoying this more than the sit-ups. Again 
her mind wandered.
"Before, we used to do this topless,' she grinned to herself. 
Now both wore substantial bra's beneath their blouses.
"What a sight we'd make without some support. Still we will have to be bare 
chested on the night,' she groaned.
She mentioned it to Kath.
'Yes I suppose we ought to get used to bare tits again," sighed her friend. 
'At least we're warmed up now.'
They dropped the skipping ropes and began to tug their t-shirts from the 
waistbands of their jeans.
They flung them into a corner.
The moment of truth.
Each reached round and snapped the catch of her bra. Both bras were white, as 
were the breasts beneath. The bra's joined the t-shirts and the two women 
faced one another.
'I think we've both blossomed a bit," giggled Kathy.
She crossed to examine the label on Lyn's bra. Like her own it was a 38" C-cup 
fitting.
"Well at least we're evenly matched in the tit department, she smiled 
to herself.
Lyn massaged her ample bosom and her dark-brown nipples began to pucker. 
'Right let's do a take two on the skipping,' suggested Kath, snatching up 
her skipping rope.
She began to skip whilst Lyn looked on. Without the bra's support her great 
freckled breasts with their large, pale areola flopped up and down freely. 
"Still they're not bad for her age,' mused Lyn somewhat cattily.
She tried it.
Her own breasts jogged up and down a great deal but didn't bother her too much.
They smiled at each other. 
They had never trained together in the old days, living several miles apart 
as they had then. This was very pleasant, far less boring than working out 
alone. But it did seem strange for both of them to be working so hard just 
to beat the daylights out of each other.
Soon both girls were glowing with warmth.
'We'll have to get some kit this afternoon, jeans aren't any good for 
exercising in," panted Lyn.
'We'll need gloves and so on as well,' responded Kath.
'Yes, let's make a list."
Glad of the break they flopped onto the soft carpet planning the shopping trip.


Next morning when they met they were in shorts and singlets, still barefoot 
though, the carpet was so well-padded, shoes weren't really necessary.  
After some exercises on the floor off came the singlets and they began to 
skip together. Towards the end of the week they tried sparring, using 
ten ounce gloves.            
'Just like old times,' thought Lyn as she took a face full of leather.
'We'd better not hit each other too hard,' she gasped as Kathy caught her
again, 'we can't afford any injuries before the fight.'
Kath saw the sense of this and began to pull her punches. They stood off 
after another couple of exchanges.
'Look suggested Kath, let's pull our punches to the head and face but hit 
properly to the body.'
Lyn thought for a few moments.
'Yes, that's a good idea then at least we won't have to get into the ring at 
Max's like two cold turkeys.'
After a further five minutes sparring they dropped thankfully to their 
knees. Despite the big, soft gloves their bodies, especially their large 
breasts, were blotched red where the leather had hit home. 
Both had fair complexions so they weren't surprised at the marking caused by 
their opponent's gloves.
After the first week they stepped up their training programme so Lyn's husband, 
Brian,was coaxed unwillingly, from his favourite position in front of the 
bar, round behind it to serve. The ten ounce gloves were carefully packed 
away and two new pairs of eight ouncers to be used for sparring were 
taken from their wrapping.
They eyed each other warily when using the new gloves for the first time.  
The punches they had taken during the previous week meant that their sagging 
breasts were already permanently sore, these smaller, harder gloves weren't 
going to help at all.
'Here we go,' winced Lyn as the red head dug a straight right into the 
nipple-part of her left breast.
They pummelled each other's belly and breasts for a good five minutes before 
collapsing to the carpet, a sweaty heap. When they had recovered sufficiently, 
off came the gloves and off came the little shorts, leaving them only in their 
small, tight sweat damp panties.
'I think I'll give the shorts a miss from now on," grinned Kathy.
They trained and sparred in the eight ouncers for the following fortnight, then 
the mutual decision was made to try six ouncers during the last week.
"After all," argued Lyn, "they're what we'll be wearing on the day.' 
Kath had, rather reluctantly, agreed.
They'd bought the six ouncers during their shopping trip. One red pair and one 
black. They hadn't been cheap but they knew from bitter experience what most 
of Max's boxing gloves were like, unless he'd changed his ways, which was most 
unlikely.
'What else shall we wear for the fight?" she asked.
'We'll buy something during the week, Brian's taking me to town, don't worry.' 
Neither woman had worn a bra since they'd agreed to fight.  
Brian particularly was very pleased to feast his eyes on the sight of the four 
massive breasts with their hard nipples thrusting against their thin, white
blouses when they did find time to serve in the bar.
Trade mysteriously picked up too. 
Lyn made a mental note.
The last week of training was very hard for both of them. 
Brian had to be roped in to supervise the sparring sessions, to try to ensure 
that neither fighter was too badly hurt before the weekend.  The six ounce 
gloves made a terrible difference to the sparring. It was a far more 
serious business. There were none of the smiles and jokes which had marked the 
earlier training with larger gloves. 
Brian felt for both of them when their already sore breasts were hit by
the small, hard gloves. The fighting was more formalised now too.  Proper
three-minute rounds of an agreed distance.  They still tried to avoid	 
each 	other's face, just as well, what with the thinly padded gloves	 
and their ever increasing punching power.		
It was Wednesday.
Brian called a halt after a particularly gruelling eight round session and 
took in the state of the two women as they lay on their backs on the soft, 
yielding carpet.
They were quite wet with sweat, luckily their fairly long hair had been tied   
back, or it would certainly have been clinging damply to their face and neck. 
Their large, soft breasts glistened, not on1y with perspiration but also 
because they were slightly swollen and, of course, flaming red after all the 
attention from the stinging little six ouncers. They rose and fell mightily 
as the two exhausted women panted hard, their systems trying to rid 
themselves of the by-products of the past half-hour's exertion. Farther down 
the once milk white bellies were also reddened and sweat slicked. Between 
their ample thighs their tiny cotton tanga slips were drawn up tightly, their 
pubic mounds bulging under the thin, damp material. Sore, aching hands flexed 
inside the tight soaking gloves as they attempted to forestall the 
approaching stiffness from their fingers. 
Lyn was the first to sit up.
"Here, get these gloves off will you love?'
Brian knelt down with her and picked at the wet laces. After some time he 
was able to pull the dulled leathers from her fists. She wrung her hands 
together, wincing as she did so.
"Bandages for you two tomorrow,' he scolded.
He actually knew quite a good deal about the fight game so Lyn always paid him 
heed.
"Well we'll make tomorrow the last day anyway,' she suggested, ' Friday can be 
a day of rest before our big come-back.'
Kath sighed with relief.
In fact they did no sparring at all the following day. 
Brian, and the two tired women, thought they would probably need the full two 
days to recover fully from the twenty or so rounds practice they'd done using 
the six ounce gloves over the previous three days.
Thursday and Friday found them doing some fairly gentle exercise, with  a 
swim each evening in the local pool, what some of the young blades disporting 
themselves around the diving boards ogling the two well stacked, bikini-clad 
women would have thought if they knew that they were preparing for a fight to 
the finish with the gloves on,  goodness knows!
All too soon it was Saturday morning.
Brian, who was to accompany them, along with Mike, Kath's husband, chivvied  
them along.
'Don't forget, ready by twelve,' he chided.
He knew it normally took them ages to get ready to go out, today would, he 
told Mike, would be even worse than usual.
Both women had butterflies in the stomach as they hurriedly packed their bag. 
They kept up a constant stream of nervous chatter. The new six ounce gloves 
they'd bought were already packed, one red pair, one black.  They had already 
decided to go bare-foot so the only other things they had to take  were  
towels, dressing-gowns, medication, ribbons for their hair and a little white 
tanga slip each to wear in the ring.
Lyn, as promised had bought them the day before when she'd been to town.
'Right let's make a move", urged Lyn.
Kath g1anced at her meekly and they went down to where Mike and Brian were 
waiting for them in the kitchen. Brian cupped a mug of coffee in his hands, 
blowing on it, trying to cool it sufficiently for him to take at least a few 
sips before beginning the drive. 
He had been wrong this time.
'Come on,' laughed Lyn, goading him, you told us to be ready and here we are.' 
Kathy grinned involuntarily.
'Ok love let's go.'
He led them to the car.
The journey was made in excellent time. In the back of the car both women 
still, to Brian's not inconsiderable annoyance, kept up their nervous banter. 
He did notice however that neither of them mentioned the purpose of their trip. 
Hand in hand, they entered the hall, whilst the men took the car round the 
back. 
"It seems strange to hold boxing in the afternoon, but I suppose it makes 
sense," Mike said to Brian.
He knew that the two women's' bouts on the bill had attracted a great deal 
of interest among the devotees of female boxing, country-wide. Most of the 
people attending the hall that day would have come a long way and would have to 
leave fairly early in the evening in order to effect a return home without 
staying the night in town. When Brian entered the hall with his friend memories 
of the many times he'd brought the girls here so long ago flooded back. So 
little seemed to have changed. The décor, for want of a better word, was 
certainly unchanged. There was still that same smell of sweat, leather and 
rain-damp overcoats.  
Many of the audience already stood shoulder to shoulder on the bare boards 
of the large room, rain-water dripping steadily from many a hem to form dull 
stains on the dusty floor  Unlike the old days, he noticed, there were few 
women present. 
Max spotted him lurking furtively by the door.
'Why hello Bri my boy, how are you, long time no see?"
He turned quickly, jerked from his daydreams.
Huh, hello Max how's business?"
"Can't complain."
Brian introduced Mike.
Max shot a satisfied glance towards the already crowded hall.
'Having Lyn and Kath fighting here again has done wonders for the takings,' he 
grinned cheekily.
'Not the same crowd though is it?' observed Brian.
"Oh no, not so many locals here today, you'd be surprised how far some of these  
geezers have come."
He jerked his thumb towards the bleak room. The only brightly lit area was 
the slightly elevated ring in the centre. The ropes and canvas floor didn't 
look any cleaner than he could remember, despite the glaring overhead lights. 
He began to wonder about the women.
'Oh they'll be jawing in the changing room," assured Max, "they're on after 
the two youngsters see."
"Oh," smiled Brian weakly, thrusting his hands deep into his trouser pockets. 
"Lyn told me you'd be coming," said Max, trying to reassure him at I've got you  
good seats at the front. We should be starting in about ten minutes. 
He pointed carefully at three empty ring-side seats.
'I'll join you as soon as I've introduced the fighters.'
He patted Brian on the shoulder and smiled encouragingly at Mike.
The began to shove their way through the crowd standing at the back of the hall.
Eventually the came to a narrow aisle between the rows of occupied chairs. He 
took his bearings again and made for his seat.
'What a rough lot,' he said to Mike, 'they'll be expecting blood and guts and no 
mistake.'
'Bloody changing room is exactly the same as it was fifteen years ago,' grimaced 
Kathy, screwing her face up as she surveyed the cracked, dirty wash basin 
and piles of rubbish strewn about the tiny room. The single fly-blown lamp hung 
from a much-frayed flex to cast harsh shadows and glare back from the smeared 
mirror above the sink.
The two young girls had obviously already left for the ring, their 
clothes, mostly blue denim, were heaped in one corner. A small, glittering 
assortment of cheap jewellery was the only other sign of their occupation.
'Let's get out of our gear and watch those two,' urged Kath.
As if to quit the squalid place as soon as possible, they threw off their 
own clothes, eyeing one another as they stripped off. It was unseasonably warm 
so all they wore were shift dresses, boots and panties. They stepped into the 
tanga slips, drew the thick, soft dressing gowns about their ample bodies and 
made towards the battered door. Lyn remembered the bare concrete floor outside.
'Hang on, I'm not walking on that floor barefoot, it's bloody filthy and there's 
bound to be splinters.'
Kath grinned.
The blonde turned to her pile of clothes and retrieved her long black 
leather boots. 
Still smiling Kath pulled on hers as well. They too were high, but dark green 
in colour, setting off her copper hair.
They reached the rough wooden bench at the back of the hall and took their 
places beside two men, whose bout was to follow theirs. Unacquainted, they 
merely nodded an acknowledgement.
Max's voice commanded everyone's attention.
'Ladies and Gentlemen, good afternoon. First on the bill are two newcomers.  As 
they are only seventeen we have relaxed the normal unlimited rounds rule and 
the fight will be over eight three-minute rounds.  However, because the girls 
weigh in so light, they have agreed to use four ounce gloves."
There was a light murmur of approval at this news. 
'On my right Tracy....... '
An unnatural blonde stepped forwards towards the ring centre, her second, 
another young girl, held on to the arms of her dressing gown and it slid from 
her narrow shoulders. She certainly was slim, typical of today's young 
womanhood.  Besides the small blood-red gloves she wore a pair of sensible 
white briefs. 
Again like many youngsters her taste in lingerie seemed rather conservative. 
Her crowning glory, of bright yellow hair, was closely cropped.  The other 
most prominent, feature, or features, her breasts, were quite large for her 
build, they were topped by nipples very long and dark, certainly not the kind 
of teats normally associated with a natural blonde........
"And on my left, Julie.'
Shrugging off her heavy gown the other blonde boxer came forwards.  She 
raised both black-gloved hands above her head in a boxer's salute.  Smiling, she 
seemed far more confident and certainly less nervous than her opponent. Her 
hair wasn't quite so brash, more a stylish affectation.  Her complexion,
especially the mass of light freckles around her upper chest and over the 
top slopes of her tip-tilted breasts, spoke of a fairly light natural hair 
colour despite the obvious highlighting.
"All in all,' thought Brian, an impartial observer, "she looks a nice, bright 
kid.'
His eyes were drawn from her breasts to her bum as she turned  for her 
corner, she too wore briefs, but her's were brief. Pastel pink with string  
sides, they set her lightly tanned back and belly off to a tee.  
She was an attractive package and knew it.
They returned to their corners obviously enjoying the undivided attention 
of every one of the males in the motley crowd.
The referee, a retired pug, walked, first to Tracy then to Julie happy in 
his task of checking their gloves and so on.  Despite her demeanour Julie 
blushed deeply as, checking her ears, he mussed her bobbed hair. 
Tracy waited nervously in her corner, her gloved hands clasped the top rope 
tightly as she listened abstractedly to her young second.
The timekeeper clanged the brass ball and the eight round contest began.  
The pace was fast and furious right from the start but both Lyn and Kath could 
tell that the girl's lacked punching power. Despite the small, ragged gloves 
and the grunts of exertion as the punches were thrown they didn't, and 
clearly never would, do too much damage. A knockout seemed an unlikely 
outcome unless of course one of the girls took a dive, but with Max behind the 
fight that was most unlikely. He was in it for the money, that was beyond all 
doubt but he'd been on the fringe of the boxing game for donkey's years and 
liked to watch a good scrap himself. Any boxer, man or woman, who didn't 
give of their all for him wouldn't be asked back again.
The bell ended the first and the boxers flopped on to their stools. They  
were puffed but unhurt.
The two women looked at each other, "Hm, lots of action," smiled Lyn.
Their seconds fanned the boxers till the second began. The pace kept up and
inevitably, both girls took many punches.  Even though they still 
weren't particularly hard, the fact that sometimes they would be walked on to 
meant that the girls' faces, the main target, began to show some signs of 
bruising. By the end of the third their faces were very red, their eyes 
smarting with tears.
The end of the fourth saw both girls bleeding slightly from the nose, but each 
smiled as they headed for their corners. 
It seemed to Lyn that the girls were glad that their fight was already 
half way through.
Her mind wandered back to her own beginnings at the hall.  She too had 
wished many, many rounds of boxing away, looking only for the final bell, 
sometimes even the result hadn't bothered her, but as her style and endurance 
improved she had enjoyed her fights more and more.
The bell heralding the fifth drew her back to the present and the two girls 
in the ring before her. 
They'd been sponged all over during the break so the sheen of sweat and slight 
smudges of blood were gone. They looked fresh and eager. 
Their seconds had compounded their elation at having reached round five, urging 
them on as it would all be downhill from now on.
Lyn smiled inwardly when she saw their faces.
"They've got a lot to learn," she thought.
'There's still four rounds to go and, light-weights or not, they're still 
wearing just four ounce gloves.'
Again she thought back to some of the beatings she'd taken fighting in fours, 
'cruel things,' she shuddered.
As if to dot the i's and cross the t's the heavier girl pancaked Tracy's 
left breast against her ribcage. The hard glove seemed to disappear completely 
into the pert, firm boob. Her jaw dropped, her eyes popped. 
She has clearly unused to such treatment. 
Julie stared at her for some little time before the shouts from her 
corner and from the excited crowd got through to her. She bore down on the 
stunned girl.
There was a different atmosphere now, both in the ring and the hall. The first 
punch of the round had changed their fight from a fairly easy-going sparring 
session to a battle for survival, for one boxer at least.
She, Tracy, fell back under the onslaught from Julie's thinly padded,  
stinging fists. The motley crowd came to life, their urgent shouts fuelled her 
attack.  Blood sprang from Tracy's nose and mouth, she'd taken a good dozen hard 
blows to her unprotected face.  A right uppercut tearing into her reddened 
left breast finally sent her thudding to the canvas, flat on her back. She lay
twitching for a while then she straightened and lay still, the blood from her 
nose and mouth trickling down her cheeks, reddening her white-bleached hair. 
Lyn, for her own rather selfish reasons, wished that she'd beat the count. The 
sooner this fight was over, the sooner she and Kath would be called into the 
ring.  She had to admit that the sight, sounds and smell of the hall had 
brought the brutal nature of what went on here sharply into focus.  All the 
light hearted training of the past few weeks now seemed to have been somewhat 
unreal, this was the real thing and only the two boxers currently in the grimy 
ring stood between it and her.
Tracy did manage to stand as the ref. reached ten..... But another swingeing 
right handed haymaker from knee level thudded into her bleeding face, it opened 
up a terrible gash at the left hand side of her mouth.
She lay still this time, not a sign of life.
Both the older women knew, by hard won experience, that their moment had come.
Exchanging brief glances, each with the merest hint of a faint smile they drew 
themselves up, somewhat reluctantly, it seemed, the clicking of their heels 
on the floor of the hall sounding clearly whilst the audience watched in 
stunned silence as the ref. and Tracy's distraught mother vainly tried to bring 
her round. She still lay flat out on the dirty canvas. Her pale body 
contrasting starkly with the grubby, grey ring floor. 
Julie, having already assumed the mantle of victrix, lounged in her corner 
whilst her gloves were carefully removed.
Brian and Mike moved over to the ring apron. Eager to get a closer look at the 
youngsters but apprehensive for their women.
Max knew his business well. It didn't do to leave a boxer, especially a young 
girl, out cold in the ring for too long. It bothered some of the fainter 
hearts in the audience and certainly demoralised the boxers who had yet to fight.
Lyn and Kath reached the ring in time to stand aside as Tracy's still           
lifeless form was stretchered past them.
Again they exchanged glances.
Both had suffered the indignity of 'coming round' in the dressing room 
after having been knocked out cold in this ring.
'It wasn't a bad way to go,' mused Lyn morbidly as she watched the ref.  
and timekeeper bearing their burden through the murmuring crowd, "she's 
oblivious to everything, especially her pain.'
Lyn was first to climb through the rough hemp ropes and onto the soiled canvas. 
She stood and watched her friend clamber in, her bulky dressing gown 
clutched about her ample bosom by fingers gaily pink-tipped with nail varnish.  
In her other hand Kath carried the bag containing their gloves and personal 
things. 
The redhead plonked herself down on the stool and, with the bag between her 
feet, began to turn it out, forming two untidy piles in the process.  
The blonde smiling, sauntered over to see if she could help.
'Alright Kath?'
"Yes, I think that's all yours.'
Lyn crouched down and picked over her pile of belongings.
'I'm getting the black gloves am I?" she grinned.
'Well I thought the red pair would set off my hair,' smiled Kath, tongue in 
cheek.
Lyn pulled the red gloves out from her friend's things.  She turned them over 
examining them closely. They looked the same as her own except, of course for
the colour.
'I hope I'm not going to take too much punishment from these in the rounds 
to come,' she said to herself, far more seriously.
She tossed them back to her friend.
"Here you are," she mumbled as she parted with the weapons which could see 
her badly hurt soon.
'I brought the under gloves,' soothed Kath, sensing her friend's change of tone. 
Lyn picked out the crumpled gloves. They were of the type used for handling
precision glass, white, soft cotton. All the fingers and thumbs been cut off at 
the first knuckle. It had been an idea of Brian's and it saved them messing 
around with bandages and so on, whilst protecting their soft hands 
perfectly.
Their last job before Lyn returned to her own corner was to tie back each 
other's hair.
They took their time, lingering over the task, seeming to prefer that kind 
of close contact rather than that which would follow the bell for the first 
round.
They seemed isolated, not only from the people in the hall, waiting to see 
them fight, but also, briefly, from their husbands who stood, rather self-
consciously whilst they put up one another's hair.  
Finally Lyn said, 'well good luck, and don't forget the boots.'
Kath glanced down and smiled weakly.
True it would have been impossible for her to have removed them herself once 
she'd been gloved up ready for the fight.
By the time Lyn had resumed her seat the boots' long zips had parted to 
reveal short, white bobby socks.
She hesitated for a few moments then thumbed them off and stuffed them untidily 
into the boots. That the fight was to be fought bare to the waist was 
confirmed to everyone sitting immediately to her front because her huge tits 
could be seen to flop around under the gaping front of her dressing gown.  
Brian, who was to second her tossed the boots carelessly out of the ring onto 
the floor of the hall. 
Kath straightened and clasped the gown closer about her, a totally illogical move 
really, as it would be coming off completely soon. Soon she was holding her 
strong hands out to receive the, by now, all too familiar, red six ouncers.  
Her eyes levelled with Lyn's own gloving up operation.
The small, hard black gloves were being tied on, none too expertly by a 
apprehensive looking Mike.
Until now she'd thought she'd never experience this feeling again.  It was   
a none too subtle, mixture of fear, eagerness for action and elation coupled
with a strong desire to turn and run as far as she could without stopping.  
They'd talked of nothing but this scrap for the last few weeks so she knew 
that Lyn would be feeling pretty much the same. Her attention was grabbed by 
the referee climbing clumsily back into the ring. An enquiring glance 
at each of their corners was all that was needed to confirm that both women were 
ready.
With a flick of his index finger he motioned them to stand, now barefoot 
but still in the thick towelling robes.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he croaked hoarsely, 'I'm sure that some of you will be 
able to appreciate what a special occasion this is. It's more years than I 
care to remember since we last saw these two girls mixing it.'
He grinned in a friendly, rather than condescending, manner at Kath and Lyn in 
turn.
'They've agreed, at fairly short notice, to stage this special come back match 
for you this afternoon. 
Despite their long lay off from the ring they are going to fight over unlimited 
rounds. The gloves, of course, he smiled, glancing at their substantial 
forms, "will be regulation six ouncers, their dress is entirely of their own 
choosing.'               
'Introducing, or should I say re introducing, on my left.....'
He motioned Lyn who lifted her black-gloved hands slightly so that Brian 
could undo her belt.
'Lyn, who weighs in at 11 stone 9 lbs."
The heavy gown slid from her broad shoulders to reveal her full figure.  
She looked as if she was enjoying the unaccustomed attention paid to her near 
nudity. It had been a very long time since anyone, other than Brian of course, 
had seen her wearing so little, yet here she was standing, practically naked, 
in front of a large crowd, most of them men.
He gave her plenty of time to bathe in their admiration before introducing Kath. 
She too gloried in a welter of applause and rapt attention. She'd had her 
red hair cut fairly short and styled especially the previous day. It was back 
combed to sweep naturally away from her soft, round face.  Her big, milky 
white, freckled breasts ballooned high up on her chest and she'd planted the red 
gloves firmly on her heavy hips.
'They certainly look formidable,' thought Mike.
Brian had seen many of their fights in the old days when they were lean and fit. 
He too thought that if they could channel some of the extra weight into their 
punches then this could turn out to be quite a tough battle.
The little white tangas were a revelation for him.
'They're little more then g-strings,' he grinned.
They'd seen a stripper on the pub outing recently who'd worn one so he felt 
quite an authority on the subject.
Hr wasn't the only man in the hall ogling the two hefty, bare women.
Lyn examined the small black gloves on her fists.  She was glad that  
they'd bought their own, they'd not relished the thought of fighting in what 
might be provided at the hall. Past experience had shown them the scruffy,
dirty and often even torn gloves that may have been kicking around on the
dusty floor for years. If yours wasn't the first bout then there was a
good chance that you may be expected to wear such gloves, but then
compounded to even more unpleasantness by being sweat and possibly
blood-sodden from the previous fight or even fights. 
Kath had her red gloves thrust down between her meaty thighs, only the 
cuffs were visible. Her upper arms curtained her melon like breasts, 
thrusting them forwards beyond their normal position. She looked as though 
she was hugging herself. 
Brian began to fidget nervously. 
"I wish they'd get on with it, the suspense is getting to me, it must be hell 
for the girls.'
Lyn stood and Kathy followed suit.
They looked heavy but sturdy and ready for anything. Kathy's great milky 
breasts sloshed around her chest like two balloons part filled with liquid as 
she skipped gently on the spot. 
Lyn's husband, Brian massaged her soft neck with his strong ring-bedecked 
fingers. He seemed to be whispering something.  
Lyn stood quiet though, every now and again, she nodded slowly, almost 
imperceptibly. 
Kath, ever the chatty type, made what seemed to be small talk with Mike who 
looked out of place on the apron of a boxing ring. He giggled at something 
and stroked the shining red hair on the side of Kath's head.
Brian began seriously to wonder what the hold up was.
Max was no fool. The slim young girls who'd fought before were one thing, but 
the two women waiting nervously in the ring now were in a different league 
all together.
To begin with, they were in the same age range as the majority of the people 
who had turned up to see them box. Physically they had much more of 
everything to offer. Both had quite attractive faces and beautifully cared for 
hair, but their most striking, and prominent, features were their breasts.
The once familiar, dry-mouthed sensation overtook both big women after standing
so long in their respective corners.
Max was, by now, talking animatedly with the time keeper.
'Probably a bloody excuse,' grumbled Kath beginning, despite the harsh lights, 
to feel quite cold.
She began to bounce on the soles of her bare, white feet giving the ringsiders 
a real treat as her massive breasts flopped and swayed around her broad chest. 
She grinned again at Lyn.
Lyn, seeming slightly embarrassed, rubbed her black gloves up and down her 
strong, freckly forearms.
Brian coughed loudly and the referee, seeming to take the hint, disengaged 
from his conversation and moved to the centre of the ring.
He casually waved the two eager fighters over to him.
Another treat for the punters as they marched briskly out into the ring. They 
weighed about eleven and a half stones apiece and a good deal of it seemed to be 
tit and hips.
Max's eyes dropped involuntarily to take in the two massive pairs of breasts. 
'Pity they weren't always this big,' he drooled, 'I could have made my pile 
and be retired by now."
'0h well, no use crying over spilt milk.'
He must make as much as he could out of this scrap, word was sure to get round 
and, who knows, he may even be able to persuade them to fight a return, then 
he could really go to town.
'How come I never noticed how big, and willing, they'd become?'
They'd been coming to events for about five or six years now and he'd 
never recognised their potential.
They stood there like two steeple chasers awaiting the start whilst he stared
first at one huge bosom then the other.
Lyn suddenly brought her small, black gloves up to her strong chin. The sudden 
movement seemed to stir him.
'Ladies and Gentlemen," he called, then lapsed back to a whisper again as 
he began to brief the two eager boxers.
'Thanks for showing girls, let's make it a fight that'll get this old hall 
full and back on the map again.'
His eyes glazed.
'Yeah ok,' breathed Lyn, ever the pragmatist. 
He began again.
'A good, clean fight then girls,' again wistfully, 'I don't need to tell you do 
I?'
Each nodded knowingly.
He motioned them back to their corners.
Then suddenly, too quickly for some of the punters to catch what he said.
'A fight to the finish, on my left Kathy and her opponent today, Lyn.' 
He made to the timekeeper to signal round one.
The two fighters barely had time to raise their gloved hands in salute before 
they were heading towards the ring centre again, this time to try to knock 
one another senseless.
When they did begin to hit each other the punches were very heavy indeed. Their 
weight plus all the training they'd done over the weeks contributing to the 
powerful blows. That, combined with comparatively light gloves made them grunt
and even squeal as the blows thudded home.
It was left leads at first.
Both men were shocked by the force of the blows... 
Only Brian had seen them  in action lately that had just been sparring, now 
they were hitting for real. 
Mike was sure that the women's' punches would have staggered him.
Neither woman seemed to have an advantage.
Neither employed a defensive guard, whether this was their style or an oversight
Brian, the most knowledgeable of the two men as far as boxing was concerned, 
could only guess.
The range was perfect on both sides.
Each bash to their venerable faces sent their heads rocking.
Soon the right side of each woman's face was red and puffy but Mike noticed that 
Kath was still grinning so she couldn't be too badly hurt, yet. The little six 
ounce gloves seemed an inadequate protection both for their fists and their 
soft, round faces.
The three minutes seemed endless to Lyn. She couldn't remember the rounds 
seeming so long all those years ago
"Still time plays strange tricks.'
She flicked her left into Kath's full lips and suffered a sharp bang on her own 
nose from the redheads right cross counter. Blinking the tears back she shot a 
glance at Brian.
He looked expectantly at the timekeeper. At last the dull clang sounded.
Both women dropped their gloves from bosom to thigh then turned to dance back 
to their corners.
'Whew, some punching! you alright?' Brian panted as he watched a hurting but 
keen Lyn sink on her stool at the end of the round.
'Yeah, just like old times,' grinned Lyn.	
But deep down she was really shocked, both by her own power, and that of 
her friend Kath.
'This is going to be some bust up,' she thought, shuddering. 
He grabbed the sponge and held it to her reddened cheek. 
"Mmmm," she sighed.
He couldn't reconcile the soft, rounded, near naked women with the brutal 
battle in prospect, that is if the first round were anything to go by. These 
two were friends no longer but fighters. One of them must end up broken on the 
ring floor and each was determined that it should be the other. 
She winced when he removed the sponge.
'This fight to a finish?' worried Brian, 'does it mean what I think?' 
'Probably,' sighed Lyn.
She looked down at the small, hard black gloves laid on her thick, white thighs.
'You must be crazy,' he persisted, all too aware of her attempt to avoid 
the issue.
Slowly she raised her gaze until their eyes met.
'It's what we want, neither of us would be here unless we wanted to. I was 
fighting, mostly against Kath, before you came on the scene. We're both a  
good deal older now but it certainly doesn't bother me, why should it you?  
Me and Kath always put on a good show, if you don't like it get lost and Max'll 
find me another second.'
Brian was too familiar with this facet of his wife's personae. She was tense, 
worried and generally keyed up.
'Who wouldn't be?' he asked himself. 
Anyway he'd no intention of leaving her corner.
"Ok love. Keep your hair on, I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"You may have to,' she snapped.
In the other corner Mike was less used to women's' fights.
'Fairly even love," he shrugged then lapsed into a long, whispered set of ill 
informed suggestions, in which she appeared to take little interest, as to how 
the fight should be conducted.
All the time she gazed at the woman opposite.
They were friends, what the devil were they trying to do to one another? 
The bell clanged for the second round and Mike suddenly realised he'd not done 
anything for her at all. He watched her barely covered, ample bottom jiggle as 
she walked out to face Lyn for another three minutes.
The small vee of thin, white material that had more or less covered her bum at 
the start was fast disappearing into the deep cleft between her heavy buttocks. 
Again the incongruity of the scene came home to him.
A fierce right to his wife's soft face heightened the sensation.
In the ring, the very ropes of which he leant on, was his wife and her 
best friend, both all but naked, save for the gloves and minute panties, the 
side strings of which cut into their hips as they strained against their heavy 
hips.
'It won't be long before they are as good as naked," he thought.
Both women were old enough to be grandmothers several times over and yet here 
they were smacking one another around a boxing ring in front of hundreds of  
leering men.
'There must be something more to it than the money?,' he groaned. 
Brian too was in reflective mood................
He knew Lyn so well that he'd known for some time that she missed the challenge 
of competitive boxing. When first she'd packed it in, partly to start   
family and partly because the spectacle of two women in a boxing ring no longer 
seemed to draw the punters to the hall, she'd seemed glad to be out of it.  
Glad to drop the training, glad not to have to spend long days about the house 
whilst the very worst of her cuts and bruises healed after each fight. But, 
over the last few years, especially after the kids had flown the nest and her 
fortieth birthday had come and gone, he'd noticed that she'd become 
increasingly more tacky and irritable, particularly behind the 
bar and when he took her out on their nights off. She often seemed to be 
spoiling for a scrap. Indeed several times there'd been ugly scenes in the pub 
and once she'd followed one old adversary out into the car park and beat her 
up, badly.
"Well she's in the proper surroundings now," he sighed, still watching her 
square up to her friend Kathy.
Both raised the shiny, new leathers to cover, as best they could, their 
most tender parts, that is breasts and faces.
Lyn winced, the cover's inadequacy was highlighted when the redhead whipped 
a short straight right into his wife's nose and mouth.
She staggered, shaking her head.
"Vicious," he groaned, watching her, white faced, backing off from Kath.
"If they keep this someone's going to get badly hurt."
He was still amazed at the solidness of their punching. The ferocity and 
stoicism at once appalled and intrigued him.
She was recovered now, glad, like Brian, that Kath hadn't followed up.  
Perhaps she hadn't realised how badly she'd hurt her friend, perhaps she had.   
Only she knew.
Mike was sure that she'd be doing her best, after all this was a fight to 
the finish, no quarter should or would be asked or given.
The two heavy women circled one another near Lyn's corner, near Brian.
He could smell their rapidly warming bodies. Whatever perfume they had on 
was being burnt off by their exertions and it hung heavy in the air above the 
grey canvas of the ring floor.
He was accustomed to the scent of them when all three were crammed together in 
the tiny space behind the bar at home, but, this was so different. 
Ha glanced across to Mike.
"He must be wondering what the hell's going an," he mused, remembering that his 
pal had never even known about Kath's boxing past, let alone ever having ever 
seen her or any woman boxing before.
Indeed he was very familiar with the male version, but this was very different. 
There wasn't the emphasis on defensive moves, hardly any of the ducking and 
weaving characterised in men's boxing. This was more punch and counter punch. 
Who was the harder hitter, who would drop first were the questions here not 
who could skip and dance the best and for the longest.
Both of them could move, he knew that, having seen them dancing together so 
often on social occasions.
But this wasn't dancing.
He watched his wife try another big right to Lyn's face.
She pulled back slightly, taking the edge off the punch and pistonned her 
own black fisted right into the red-head's upper chest.
"A few inches lower and her boobs would have copped that," groaned Mike, as it 
was the punch was a bit of a heart stopper.
The hint of a smile had left her face.
Mike was sickened.
He'd not been expecting anything like this. His wife and her friend looked set 
to murder one another.
Again Lyn's solid fist thudded into her face. 
Mike winced, Kath's head snapped back. 
'Bloody hell,' he groaned.
He felt quite glad that he'd missed their earlier fights. He didn't relish the 
sight of Kath staggering around, her face already puffy, with Lyn still chasing 
her and hitting her so hard.
It did look like Lyn was in the ascendancy for some reason.
Kath hadn't yet been given the chance, since the round began, to throw a punch.
Lyn kept whacking her in the face to the extent that she never got a chance 
to get her act together before getting caught again.
"Come on," willed Mike, 'do something."
But no, she didn't even cover up properly,...she merely stood there and  took 
what her friend dished out.
Brian could sense his wife's exhilaration as she began to vent her pent 
up aggression.
Kath whimpered under the heavy blows rained on her.
Max, fearful of an unpopular quick end to the unlimited round fight, stepped in 
to give the red head a standing count and some hurried, whispered advice. 
'Get your guard sorted out Kath, this is not the time for heroics, you must take 
Lyn seriously or we'll be stretchering you out."
Kath nodded and smiled a weak smile. Her blood-smudged teeth were revealed 
briefly. 
It was a jolly good eight seconds.
When he waved Lyn back over he, and Mike, were relieved to see Kath sensibly 
tuck her red leathers up under her chin.
Even Brian was pleased to notice the defensive move. Now he was sure of the 
reason the two were in the ring he wanted them to make a proper fight of it. 
Not put off her stroke, Lyn lashed out again but Kath swung her right 
forearm down and parried the blow.
After the pause the round quickly settled down to a more even series of 
mainly left handed exchanges. Even the hard-bitten, lack lustre audience 
responded with a ripple of light applause as Max stepped between the panting 
women. 
"Alright?" breathed Mike before Kath had a chance to sit down.
"Yes, ok now thanks, I don't know what came over me."
"You weren't going to throw it were you?"
"No, I just wasn't concentrating."
'But you are now?"
'Oh yes, I'll be fine now, give me some water will you."
Brian sponged Lyn's sweat-shiny face while she relaxed on the stool. 
"Thought it was all over for a minute."
"Mmmm she muttered, "she always was a slow starter."
Max called 'seconds out' and they were soon at it again, good crisp leads 
getting to both handsome faces.
"Brilliant," sighed Max, "this is what I had hoped for.'
Both women were well warmed up now. The sound of the six ouncers thudding into 
their sweaty, vulnerable faces could be easily heard above the muted crowd.
A classic right cross from Kath staggered the brunette and sealed her return to 
sensibility and the fight. 
She tried to follow up but Lyn was having none of it, crouching and blocking she 
ended the third round on the ropes near her own corner.
Mike was ecstatic.
'That was better.'
'Yes,' panted Kath.
They were both sweating copiously. The heat of the packed hall, the women's 
bulk and lack of ring sharpness saw them glowing and panting. Each drank from 
the proffered bottle but sensibly spat it out after swilling their dry mouths.
The bell clanged loudly and the boxers bounced up, their shiny buttocks 
and breasts juddered massively as they strode towards the centre of the ring, 
towards one another.
Lyn drove a fierce straight right into Kath's bulbous left breast. 
She grunted loudly.
'If that's the way you want it...'
She pumped her own right fist into her friend's chest. 
Lyn's left tit took the full force of the sickening blow head, or rather 
nipple, on.
Brian's stomach lurched.
'He'd seen her take some of this before so knew of the cumulative effect which 
could accrue from such blows.
She'd been bent almost double by the end of some of her fights after taking 
severe punishment to her huge breasts. But now all she did was to purse her 
lips and take another swing at her friend's bosom.
Kath had taken her share of punches without reciprocation.
She pulled her torso back, taking all the fire out of the punch then settled  
her guard and stance.
Mike breathed a sigh of relief.
They began the relentless exchange of left leads. Their proud heads rocked  
with the blows.
Midway through the round Kath's soft, full lips split quite badly and the first 
blood of the fight began to trickle down her chin.
Mike was horrified.
Brian smiled thinly and knowingly.
He knew what to expect so wasn't in the least bit concerned.
Both women had lost more blood in this shabby ring than he cared to recall. He 
grabbed the sponge and motioned to Mike.
A slow nod of recognition from the opponent's corner-showed that the message 
had struck home.
'They're too proud to wear gum shields," sighed Mike, if they keep this up 
they'll be taking their teeth home in their handbags.'
There was no hesitation in the punching.
A big right cross from Kath had Lyn staggering again and then the fourth was 
finished.
Mike dunked the sponge and tenderly dabbed it, dripping over his wife's 
ravaged lips.
Her eyes smiled up at him.
His fear for her evaporated momentarily and he watched the cool drops of water 
splashing onto her pinked thighs.
'Very even,' smiled Brian.
'Yes, she's in fighting fettle now and no mistake,' agreed Lyn.
He pulled the thick hank of brown hair aside and laid the cool sponge on the 
nape of her strong neck.
She sighed and bent forwards from the waist, her heavy breasts ground into her 
meaty thighs, her black gloves grasping her sturdy calves.
Brian carried on down her broad, heaving back with the magic sponge.  
He considered the bits of her which he couldn't properly see, her front.
'No damage yet," he sighed to himself.
Lyn's jaw felt sore where she had taken the two heavy crosses but 
otherwise, apart from a slightly stinging left breast, she felt good.
Max pushed off the ropes and half ran out into the ring centre as the 
bell sounded for the fifth. 
Something told him that this was going to be a cracking three minutes.
The two heavy women emerged from their respective corners.
The black and red gloves looked cruelly small on them, their tiny panties 
white and tight between their meaty thighs. Both faces and chests were 
flushed and sweat shiny.
They faced up in front of Max. He stepped back expectantly in time to 
avoid another of Kath's clubbing crosses. 
Lyn jinked and countered with a straight right of her own.
The thud as the black leather mashed the redhead's already broken lips made him 
wince.
She bobbed her red, right glove up to her injured mouth. 
Mike shuddered.
A broad ribbon of bright red blood curtained her strong, white chin. 
A thin smile topped Lyn's.
Brian was at once pleased with the blow but worried by the power packed by 
both of the big women.
He'd seen plenty of male bouts where the punching had been far less devastating. 
Curiously, Lyn hadn't yet followed up on the big right hander, it looked almost 
as if she were waiting for another chance to get to Kath's bleeding mouth.
All the time though the redhead had been keeping her own left lead 
going, snapping the dark head back time and again.
Lyn seemed to be ignoring the blows, her eyes focussed carefully on her friend's 
battered face.
Kath had never been much good with her left hand and Lyn had often just let her 
come on if it suited her immediate plans.
Now seemed to be such a time.
Mike was baffled by her tactics until his wife's right glove naturally 
dropped the few inches necessary to uncover her damaged mouth.
Smack, the cruel right fist went in again. 
Kath actually staggered.
Two punches she'd taken in this round so far, far fewer than her opponent but 
it was the quality of the blows which was telling.
Now Lyn turned it on.
She came down on the groggy Kath, with a fast and furious two-fisted attack. 
Mike was genuinely surprised at just how fast she could move.
He clutched at the top rope whilst Kath did her best to cover up in one of the 
neutral corners.
'Get your right hand going."
It was the only helpful thing he could think of to say.
Unfortunately Kath was in no position to put any punches together.
She took Lyn's gloves on the sides of her head and body right up to the end of 
the fifth.
Mike edged around the ring apron making a grab for her arm.
"Here you are love.'
She pawed at the top rope with her right glove.
His fist closed over it and began to slide her hand along the rope to her corner. 
Some of the blood from her mouth had dripped into her deep cleavage, her face 
was as white as a sheet.
Mike sighed as he slid the rickety stool under her. He was way out of his 
depth, flapping uselessly round the hurting woman.
'I thought you'd got yourself sorted out?"
"I have," she grumbled groggily.
"Humph.'
He caught the hank of sweat darkened red hair and gently forced her head back 
whilst he studied her puffy face.
'A few more rounds of this and she'll be finished,' he thought grimly. 
"It's early days yet,' she muttered, reading his thoughts and struggling to 
bring her head forwards.
Finally, she grabbed his arm with her right glove and made him leave her be.
"I'll fight my own battles, you just shut up or piss off."
Again he demurred and left her to her own devices.
She sat, breathing heavily, her gloves clasping her thighs just above the 
knee, her breasts heaving mightily on her barrel chest.
Unbeknown to Mike, Max had nodded to one of the few women in the hall and she'd 
got wearily to her feet, trudging over to take up station in Kath's corner. She 
brusquely motioned Mike out of the way and began to stroke the back of the 
redhead's neck with the wet sponge.
Whatever it was she was saying seemed to buck Kathy up. Soon she was 
whispering to her new second.
Mike's shoulders slumped and he began to cast around for somewhere to sit. 
There seemed to be nowhere, so he eased himself down onto the ring apron and  
sat, legs dangling looking away from the ring, out into the uneasy crowd.
Lyn and Brian talked quietly in the corner opposite.
Max's eyes switched expectantly from corner to corner. He still couldn't come 
to terms with the ferocity of the fight. His eyes focussed on Kath's blood 
smudged mouth then on Lyn's frame as she suddenly jumped up for the sixth, 
eagerly tapping her small black gloves together. He couldn't blame her for 
appearing keen to get stuck in again, the last round had been a clear walk over 
for her.
Summoning herself, Kath also stood.
She skipped a few times on her bare feet, great breasts bouncing. The bell 
clanged dully.
They were at it again.
It was a different Kath though.
She seemed to have pulled herself together during the break. 
Lyn marched over, swinging out at her from within a couple of paces. She was 
having none of it, blocking the wide right, she dug a right cross of her own 
into Lyn's advancing chest.
She croaked, the hard, red glove mashed her left breast against her rib cage 
massive though it was.
The pain made her feel sick.
Brian watched her closely, his mouth hanging open. He knew she'd been hurt. The 
punch had stopped her in her tracks.
Kath seemed glad of the breathing space at first, she'd time to set Lyn up  
for something else.
Not surprisingly the brunette's gloves had dropped to cover her throbbing 
breast.
The left hook to the jaw staggered her.
Two punches into the new round and it was a different fight.
The left spun Lyn's head round, all ready for the vicious right cross to 
her nose.
She folded to the floor, blood dribbling over her full lips, dripping onto 
the dirty canvas while she lay still on her side.
Brian could see her broad, sweaty back heaving, her quivering ample buttocks 
barely covered by the thin, white panties.
Max began an extremely slow count, each number he uttered a plea for the 
brunette to rise and get back into the fight.  The higher the number, the  
slower he counted. 
As if to rescue his from his dilemma Lyn scrambled up at eight. The tiny panties 
had rucked up into the cleft between her shiny buttocks, she looked naked 
from where Brian stood.
She covered up with her gloves as best she could whilst Kath belted her around 
the ring. 
The crowd came alive, sensing an imminent knockout. 
Lyn was too old a hand, she'd been boxing a couple of years before Kath  
had arrived on the scene. She'd no choice but to let the redhead come on, it 
was really just a question of damage limitation until she could get back into 
gear.
Several of Kath's punches had already driven her gloves back into her face.  
The once shiny black glove under her nose was already dulled with her blood. 
She was quite philosophical though. When she got into the ring with Kath for 
real it was always tough. This was nothing yet, she was sure.
The crowd were leering openly at the brutal scene they witnessed. 
Kath's heavy, unreturned punches were rocking the hefty brunette. By the time 
the bell rang Lyn still hadn't thrown a punch.
She flat-footed it back to her corner and sank down, grateful for the break. 
Kath almost smiling, skipped to her own corner.
Both big women were bloodied now.
Lyn offered her little black gloves up first for her husband to wipe them off. 
He ignored them and dabbed it her hard swollen runny nose.
A thin smile flickered across her puffy face. 
'Just like old times,' he thought.
He'd seen her badly messed up plenty of times, 'this is just the beginning,'  
he mused sadly.
For all that he was enjoying the scrap, glad to see her back in action 
again, sure it was what she wanted.
She'd been on about this fight day and night for a couple of weeks. Now here she 
was, somewhat the worse for wear, but apparently happy enough.
He got round to the gloves and decided against the wet sponge, the leathers 
would be sodden soon enough unless he was much mistaken. He buffed them up 
with the towel then shook it out, noting the red smudges of his wife's face 
blood all over it.
He looked quizzically at Lyn.
'I'm alright," she reassured him.
"The fight's toing and froing a bit,' he moaned.
'That's me and Kath," she smiled, blood was already trickling from her 
reddened nose again.
His eyes dropped to her lap. The dark triangle of her pubic bush was 
clearly visible under the thin, sweat sodden vee of her tiny panties.
He hugged her round the shoulders then glanced over to the opposite corner. 
Kath looked ready for round seven, standing, gloves on hips, there was no hint 
of hair between her sturdy thighs and he was quite sure he could make out 
the profile of her very vaginal lips under the taut, moist panties. Her huge 
breasts shone, the broad, pink areola flushed after six rounds of brutal effort.
Lyn knew that she must watch her step for a round or two.
They closed yet again, Lyn still clearly on the defensive.  The squeaky clean 
black leathers tucked up to her face.
Kath bashed her on the ear with a stinging left hook. The thwack was loud 
enough for most of the audience to hear it.
Brian, knowing how dangerous such a blow could be, watched his wife carefully. 
Women, he always thought, seemed to be more susceptible than men to the 
proverbial clip round the ear. Several times he'd seen girls forced to retire 
as a result.
But not Lyn, though her head ached dully her mind was alert.
She'd came here to fight, and despite or perhaps, because of, her current, 
brief setback, she grit her teeth, set her guard and squared up to her friend.
The straight right was telegraphed by the cocky redhead to such an extent 
that Lyn had time to sieve through her several defensive options long 
before it arrived.
In the event she simply ducked.
As she straightened her knees she shot out a straight right of her own. 
The hard glove hit Kath's nose.
Due to the upward angle of attack her nostrils were lifted painfully   
and bloodily.
Blood squirted. 
She'd been stung herself.
At last Lyn felt able to relax her close guard.
Kath fell back, pawing at the fountain of blood jetting from her nose. 
Mike, open mouthed, stared at his injured wife.
Ironically he recalled the conversations they'd had during the weeks building up 
to this fight.
He knew she wasn't expecting to come through this fight unscathed, but 
even so.
The bright blood squirting from her nose shocked him.
She didn't seem unduly bothered it was just another punch in the face to her. 
But the sight cheered Lyn up a great deal and Brian's stomach muscles 
unclenched for the first time since the beginning of the round.
He felt for Mike but knew that, however bad the nose looked now, a quick wipe 
with the sponge during the break would see Kath looking reasonable again. She 
fought on despite her pouring nose. When she did catch Lyn the brunette knew 
she'd been hit. A couple of Kath's hooks to the ribs clean took her breath 
away. 
'You can't say it isn't and even scrap,' he thought. 
It was like a deuce game in tennis.
First one had the advantage, then the other, but the injuries were accruing  
this was no tennis game after all.
Brian thought that he'd seen the last of Lyn's bloody battles more than 
twelve years before. 
He'd seen her fight at a couple of private do's wearing four ounce gloves and 
they had been blood baths, but this was showing the signs of turning out to be 
the same.
Kath was in a mess already she padded bare foot round a small circle, her 
nose pouring blood, the red-gloved fists either held over her face or pawing at 
her dark haired opponent.
Lyn didn't get carried away, she just kept her sharp, snappy left lead going 
when Kath's face was open for business.
The pattern remained the same till the end of the round.
It was a good job that Mike had been supplanted as Kath's second because 
she needed both physical and mental support during this break.
The woman Joan, took a business-like line with the red-haired Kath, a good 
fifteen years her senior.
She made her spread-eagle her arms along the middle rope and stretch her 
sturdy legs out into the ring.
She looked a sorry sight until Joan got to work on her.
First a very wet sponge then the still-streaming nose was firmly pinched between 
strong thumb and forefinger.
Kath squirmed on the little stool but when the second took her hand away at 
'seconds out' the bleeding had stopped.
She still looked rather messy, especially down over her front, but she strode 
out to square up to Lyn looking far more positive than during the whole of the 
previous round.
"This is primitive," growled Mike, he thought she mightn't have made it out for 
the eighth.
He was really quite glad that he'd been relieved of his duty as second.
He felt more distanced from the carnage.
"Maybe I'll get to enjoy watching it," he shuddered.
Lyn soon had her left working again but this time there was some reciprocity. 
Kath's red gloved left fist stung the brunette two or three times before she 
came to terms with her new, improved opponent.
They slowly settled into a more even series of exchanges. Some of the punters in 
the audience approved clearly.
Some of the less sporting amongst them began to fidget and mutter about 
the brunette having let Kath off the hook.
She'd been heading for the floor.
She'd been bleeding heavily.
That's what they'd come to see.
But now, what was this, she was fighting back, the only blood on her was that 
which was lost during the last round, drying now on her impressive bosom. 
They were by no means swapping punch for punch.
Lyn was still in command.
It was her small black gloves which found the target more often.
Mike was worried about Kath's nose, it had looked bad before the break, no 
sooner had his thoughts turned from this than Lyn caught her with a straight 
right which brought fresh blood squirting from both her nostrils.
She wasn't so badly hurt this time though.
She was bleeding badly again but she could handle that.
The crowd clearly expected such ferocity, there was none of the 
euphoria associated with 'ordinary' ringsiders. These buggers simply strained 
their necks or cocked their heads so as not to miss an exchange of blows or a 
gout of blood. The minority of the audience who wished to see the fight finish 
soon with her bloody defeat were cheered but most could appreciate the 
difference between her predicament in the previous round and the more even 
exchanges that were taking place now.
Even Lyn could sense the changed circumstances. 
Kath had got her second wind.
She was struggling, but then she was a struggler.
She looked a mess but was composed and in command of herself.  Ignoring 
her streaming nose she bounced towards the brunette on the balls of her  
feet, her teeth clenched like the fists in her little red gloves.
Lyn tried to stop her with a long straight right but she ducked, the glove 
flew over her left shoulder and she kept on coming.
Her own right cross thwacked into the left hand side of Lyn's nose. Blood sprang 
from the nostril.
Mike cheered up, Lyn dabbed at her face, Kath fired her left into her 
adversary's chest.
The black gloves flew from face to bosom. The straight left had stung her.
After all these years of soft living these punches in the tits seemed 
unbearable.
She'd known what to expect.
She had to come to terms with it.
Pain, she knew, was transitory, it couldn't be well remembered.  
Nothing, physical or temporal, would remain in a couple or three days.
But, at the moment, she throbbed.
Despite the attempt to cover her chest Kath managed to hit her hard in the 
left breast again.
Her mouth worked like a goldfish's.
The look on her face brought an involuntary grin from Brian.  
Despite her bloodied face and obvious pain the sight of her made him smile.
In normal life she was so self assured, so poised. Here she was stripped of 
her clothes, her dignity and the means to hide the effects of the punishment she 
was taking in her big matronly tits.
Kath caught her there once more before she bore down on her friend, hell bent 
on revenge.
Fortunately for the redhead, there were just seconds to go before the bell to 
end the eighth.
Another cracking right hook mashed the left breast.
It seemed swollen now, Brian noticed that it didn't flop about quite as much 
as it's partner.
It was red and throbbing when she lowered herself onto her stool. She'd only 
managed a half push, half punch to Kathy's face in retaliation. It hadn't 
helped her morale, or her temper.
"Swings and roundabouts?' thought Brian glibly as he heard her muttering 
under her breath. 
'I'd better say something.'
"Turning out to be fairly even love?" Lyn grunted.
The pitch rose when he dabbed the sponge on her reddened tit.
Suddenly she said, 'we must be bloody daft, doing this at our age."
'Give over, you're putting on a brilliant show, these blokes have never 
seen anything like it before, I bet.'
She grunted again, more softly this time, a low purring sound. The pain in 
her bosom having eased whilst she came to terms with her fat, awkward lips.
He, unlike Mike, was used to the blatant brutality, the sweat, the pain and 
the blood.
'Custom inures us to anything,' he reflected.
The same could be said of Kath, though she suffered less during the break than 
last.
Joan continued her confidence building job as soon as the red-head's face was 
sponged.                      
She nodded enthusiastically.
Max, looking complacent as he lounged on the ropes, took in the scene within 
the ring and the punters outside.
The atmosphere in the hall had changed from disinterested to electric 
attention. The first eight rounds had already seen more action than any of the 
fights at the hall for the last couple of years, added to that was the fact that 
the two boxers in the ring were so obviously female.
Lyn in particular already rued the fact that she was so well endowed about 
the chest. Her poor left tit no longer stung but it did ache fearfully.
The water that Brian had sluiced over her front inevitably ran down her 
blossoming belly, further soaking the front of her tiny panties. The white, 
silky vee clung to her clean-shaven mound of Venus but she was past caring. When 
she stood for the ninth she felt that the eyes of the whole audience were upon 
her, and she was one hundred percent right.
As the fight progressed into the second half hour, although the women 
were clearly becoming more tired, the action became ever more brutal.
Both women received further injuries, Kath, with her softer features, fared 
less well about the face.
Lyn, though she'd taken her fair share of punches in the face, still stooped 
slightly after the crippling blows to her belly and breasts.
The redhead seemed to have coped better with the equally heavy, clubbing 
punches to he body.
The familiar, dull clang ushered in the end of the eleventh.  The two 
boxers, still with their eyes locked onto one another, dropped their soiled 
gloves and took a couple of tottering backward steps, before fully turning
for their respective corners.
Their bare, dirty feet scuffed the canvas, the soft sound could easily be 
heard, so muted were the crowd.
Max was perplexed.
A couple of rounds back the noise had been deafening now, as the brutal 
attrition deepened, the punters seemed to have become intoxicated by the 
violence, though they followed each and every move, however fractional, they 
did so in almost utter silence, only after a particularly vicious attack or 
counter was there anything but the briefest of murmurings.
The two hardened seconds wearily placed the stools in the ring.  
They were quickly occupied by the two shattered fighters.
'It looks like a casualty department,' sighed Brian, he could smell the sweat 
and blood on his sobbing wife.
She held her wet, black gloves over her reddened belly. Although she'd been 
hit in the face mostly again during the last round, it seemed that her body 
still troubled her most. Her face was a mess though, he'd never seen her so 
badly marked before.
He felt quite queasy.
His only consolation was that Kath, over in the opposite corner looked as bad, 
if not worse.
Joan had already wiped her face with the sponge but it hadn't done much to 
improve her appearance.
Max, talking earnestly to the timekeeper, was clearly fairly worried. If he'd 
known of the deep seated reason for the fight it might have helped a little, 
but he didn't so, to him, the fight simply seemed a bloodbath.
He snapped out of it in order to call them out for the twelfth after all they 
still seemed out for each other's guts.
They began to hit one another again. The six ouncers were wet and useless, each 
punch occasioning a dull wet splat with the odd thud from a particularly  
heavy blow.
Each was clearly tired but determined not to succumb, only to emerge as victrix 
The seconds draped the towels over their corners, they were both heavily 
blood stained.
Mike seemed bemused, in a state of shocked confusion, but thankfully 
distanced from the actual carnage, the smell of stale sweat and the sight of 
blood streaming from his partner's pulped face.
Brian began to wonder if the preparations for the fight had been adequate. 
'We won't be going straight home tonight,' he thought grimly.
He'd been through this hoop, he knew that a boxing match didn't end with 
the final bell or the referee's slow ten count.
There were always injuries. Even if the physical damage was slight there was 
still the doubt, the frustration, the feelings of inadequacy. For the loser 
the hurt pride always needed a warm shoulder.
Many's the time he'd had to accompany Lyn to the local casualty department 
over the years. Tonight would be different, he thought, in the past she'd 
been treated as a regular customer, now probably no-one there would remember 
her. She'd be just another statistic to them.
'A broken nosed statistic,' he thought grimly as he watched her take 
another fierce straight right in the face.
Lyn suddenly remembered her own concern about being hurt by the red gloves 
before the fight had begun.
She glanced down over her swollen, bloody tits and aching belly, her fears  
had been justified and proved too conservative by half. Still there was no 
point in dwelling on her misgivings, Kath was still coming forwards. She 
whimpered as the red gloves found her breasts again. She was stooping slightly, 
as predicted by Brian. Whether it was the pain or whether it was a 
subconscious ploy to decrease her frontal target area he couldn't know. In any 
case, for whatever reason she did it, it didn't stop the big redhead 
finding her big, bruised breasts.  She didn't seem to be able to keep Kath 
at arm's length. She knew that when she could, her left lead worked wonders.  
A penny dropped when she matched the coincidence of Kath's change in 
tactics with her change of second.
'Bitch," she spat.
She must fight like with like.
After all her time in the ring with Kath she'd developed this stand off 
technique and it had served her well but it was an indication of her boxing 
aptitude that she could appreciate her predicament and make to alleviate it. 
She dropped any lingering pretence of a left lead, instead tucking her elbows 
and gloves well in. Straight away the punishment lessened. From this defensive 
position she began to march Kath back and round to her left.
A whiplash right hook smacked into the redhead's left cheek. The red weal on 
her cheek bone ample testament to the wisdom of her new approach.
Brian watched closely.
As a bloke he didn't have to worry so much about defending the upper torso in 
the ring, so had missed the significance of his wife's shortcomings.
She seemed alright now, the fight had changed considerably, it was far more 
scrappy, with more close work and clinching but at least the traffic in leather 
was two way. 
The twelfth marked the end of open, classic conflict.  From this round on 
the fight would be scrappier but no less brutal. In fact, during the thirteenth 
and fourteenth some of the inside work was with the head, with the inevitable 
injuries around the eyes. Kath's softer features caused her the greater 
problems. She sustained a nasty gash under her already swollen left 
eye, whilst both Lyn's eyes  became progressively puffier. 
"There's going to be trouble here soon,' groaned Brian as he tended to Lyn 
during the fourteenth break. The once simple worry about the women's 
bloody condition was highlighted now by the damage to their eyes. A broken nose 
and mashed lips were one thing, a fighter could carry on viably after that 
but one, or both, eyes full of blood rendered even the best boxer useless. 
Once sightless a boxer, man or woman, good or bad, became nothing more than a 
human punch bag. 
Brian knew, from past experience of the hall, Max wouldn't stop a fight for cut 
eyes, he might if a boxer couldn't defend but even then a great deal of 
unreciprocated punishment would be needed to convince him. 
Mike, still in the crowd, took in the brutal scene through glassy eyes. 
Max stood, hands thrust into his pockets, like a bystander at a road accident. 
Only Brian and Joan were in a position to actually help the two women. Then, it 
seemed to Mike, it was only to get them as fit as they could and ready to 
start beating the shit out of one another. As he watched Lyn march out for the 
fifteenth his heart leapt.  Secretly, he'd written her off as an athlete 
about five years previously, now here she was with forty five minutes of really 
brutal boxing under her belt, still strong and, more importantly, still game.
She did look a bit the worse for wear true and practically naked from behind, 
the back of the little panties having given up the uneven struggle with her 
ample buttocks, had disappeared completely. The hank of brown hair wet with 
sweat, clung to the back of her pinked neck, her broad, sweaty back tensed 
as she stopped a couple of paces away from the bloody wreck that was her best 
friend, Kath.
The redhead gave a crooked, thin smile. Her face was a mask of deep 
purple bruising and dried blood.
An hour now they'd been at each other. After this round, if they both 
came through it, they'd be in unique territory, the sixteenth onwards was ground 
only covered by participants in unlicensed boxing.
Max couldn't help but swallow hard when they raised their tired arms to begin 
the relentless, damaging punching once more.
Lyn's wet ponytail whiplashed to one side as Kath caught her with the first blow 
of the fifteenth, a stinging right hook.  Blood began to ooze from her 
hard swollen nose.
Brian grinned, his prediction about the broken nose came a step nearer reality. 
The punch hurt her, of course, but it stimulated her to respond, not consciously 
but more as the conditioned response of a natural fighter.  The counter 
didn't come immediately, she couldn't properly focus on the redhead, nor was she 
poised correctly, she wanted this punch to be right. It was a short 
uppercut, when it came, a vicious, compact right hander which lifted Kath's 
bloated left breast bodily. 
The colour drained from her flushed face.
Joan tutted when she noticed a drop of blood forming on the already 
skinned nipple, the rough cuff and lacings had rasped over the large, tender 
areola as the breast had absorbed the cruel blow. Two punches into the round, 
each drawing fresh blood and adding to the catalogue of injuries.
Both women hurt badly but neither was subdued.
The fight had slowed down another gear but the blows, though less frequent, 
when they did come the women put more into them. They were more accurate and 
vicious than ever before.
Max eyed the redhead's bleeding teat with trepidation, he knew only too well 
from past experience, particularly with these two, how quickly a seemingly 
trivial injury like this could develop to a point where he might be obliged to 
intervene. When women's breasts were already swollen taut from repeated 
blows once the nipple split even slightly, the chance of a more serious 
rupture  increased alarmingly.
Kath too was aware of her predicament. She'd been in this position all too 
frequently up against Lyn.  Being a redhead her skin and particularly 
her saucer-like aureoles were not really up to the demands placed upon them, 
something was bound to give when she put her body on the line against a heavy, 
well trained fighter wearing six ounces of leather of each fist.	She was 
designed to be pampered not punished, caressed not clubbed. All credit to her 
though, although she knew she was in trouble she showed no sign of concern for 
her safety as she bobbed and weaved in front of the brunette.
The two woman stood back from one another for a second and Mike saw the dark
blood steadily dripping from Kath's milk tract. He couldn't believe his eyes.
'They're going to kill each other,' he mumbled. 
Lyn glanced at the breast as well.
She felt sorry for Kath, but she'd known what to expect, in the dozens of fights 
they'd had against one another, particularly the later ones, one or both of 
them had had to endure the pain of cuts around the nipples. 
Indeed after their very last fight Lyn herself had needed ten stitches in her 
left breast. 
Max had never seen two women go so far before.
There was a real probability now of some serious injuries. They were 
too tired to maintain their guards properly but the punches, when they came, 
were no less damaging than in the earlier rounds. The six ouncers were 
sopping, not only from the water sloshed over both women during the breaks, but 
also with their sweat and blood.
"It can't just be the money,' thought Max as Kath took a right in her 
ruined face.
He resolved to go over to Lyn's corner during the break to canvas Brian's 
views on the matter, Lyn was so far gone, he thought, that she wouldn't be 
able to comprehend the conversation.
Brian himself winced as Kath replied to Lyn's big right. Her right hook mashed
the brunette's drum-taut left tit.
Due to her sideways stance the glove hit the breast head on. There was no 
where for the flesh to go as it was crushed between Kath's leather fist and her 
own rib cage. 
The pain sickened her. 
If a breast could give to the side the force of a blow wasn't so bad. 
When the breast resumed its swollen shape however Brian was pleased to note 
there was none of the blood that marred the redhead's left breast. 
Lyn's bloody lips were pursed tightly as she absorbed the pain from the cruel 
blow. She glanced down and swore that her left tit had grown bigger since 
the start of the round.
'Still, I'm not bleeding,' she panted to herself.
'They're both too top heavy to be punching each other's tits,' groaned Mike. 
But Brian had seen it all before, 'pay her back,' he shouted, watching his 
wife just standing there opposite her exhausted and hurting friend.
Kath's eyes popped as she felt Lyn's right fist bury itself in her left breast 
yet again. It was partly her own fault because she had her own gloves down by 
her sweaty thighs since she'd hit the brunette. 
Another right, this time a cross to her mouth found her falling, twisting down 
onto the filthy canvas.
'Shit,' spat Joan, 'I thought it was the other girl's turn to go down.' 
Lyn, her spirits unexpectedly lifted, skipped gently, lightly tapping her 
sodden, black gloves together in front of her burning breasts.
Mike averted his eyes.
Blood was pouring from Kath's raw mouth, she lay on her side, a red 
stain forming under her bruised and swollen cheek.
Max started his slow count only after she'd lain on the floor for a good 
five seconds.
'four, five, six........' 
She began to stir. 
'eight.'
She sat up slowly, carefully.
At nine she was standing, tottering but standing. Her face, neck and 
shoulder looked a mess where the blood from her mouth had coursed down over her.
Mike looked it her and shuddered. He hoped for an end to the fight, he'd 
seen enough.
Most of the crowd about him seemed just to be warming up.
'Callous bastards,' he spat.
Lyn whipped a left and right into her face, she staggered.
The dull clang of the bell turned Lyn for her corner whilst Joan climbed into 
the ring to grab Kath's shoulder.
'Are you alright?'
'Mmmmm....
'Come on, let's take a look at you.'
She steered her back to the stool and folded her onto it. She sponged her off 
vigorously then stepped back to assess the damage. Her eyes flicked to the left 
breast, blood was still dripping steadily. 
'Her face is no worse then the other girl's,' she thought matter-of-factly.
'If I had some ice,' mumbled Join hopelessly.......................
As it was all she could do was wring the sponge out and hold it over Kath's 
split nipple.
Her eyes were glazed over, probably from the effect of the two punches to her 
head just before the bell.
Joan didn't bother to try to speak to her, mopping her up as best she 
could before climbing quietly out of the ring well before seconds out. 
'You're almost there,' groaned Brian, 'for Christ's sake get it over with 
and soon.'
She give him a crooked, thin smile and offered her bloody gloves to him to 
be wiped off.
He managed a pre-emptory flick with the towel before the bell clanged.
'Round seventeen,' intoned the timekeeper.
'Stand up to her,' urged Joan watching her charge struggle to gain her feet. She 
shook her head slowly.
Brian too watched her, his eyes settled on the left hand side of the front of 
her panties, streaked red where blood had been dripping from her teat.
Lyn focussed on her, a cruel glint in her dark eyes. 
Heeding Brian's advice she began to club Kath about the head.
The punches actually seemed to stimulate her.
Probably purely by instinct, she came up onto her toes, tucked her gloves 
under her chin and began to stalk the brunette.
Lyn, unaware, kept up her two-fisted attack. She didn't seem to notice that 
her blows were being either ridden or caught out the red gloves.
The first inkling she had that all was not going according to plan was a 
perfect short straight right in her face. She exhaled sharply, showering her 
friend with droplets of blood, the punch had opened up her bottom lip like a 
pea pod.  She was too good a boxer to show her dismay or her pain.
Brian knew.
Kath, being so close to her, must have noticed the subtle change in her 
expression and general bearing.
Lyn's long breather, after the busting of her mouth, gave the redhead a good 
rest too.
They simply kept each other at arm's length with the occasional long left lead.
Mike relaxed slightly, but felt the punters around him becoming ever more 
restive.
At last the bell sounded and the two women about faced for the welcome retreat 
to their corners.
Brian straight away began to dab at Lyn's mouth.
'Leave it,' she gagged.
He picked up her towel and fanned her eagerly.
'Bit of a set back,' he mumbled.
'Don't worry, she's going.'
Again Joan maid nothing in the opposite corner.
Kath seemed at ease with herself at last and, when the timekeeper called 
seconds out, seemed almost eager to get on with it.
Max looked from corner to corner.
'What a scrap,' he said to himself.
Both women looked to him as if they'd been through the mincer.  Both pairs 
of breasts were swollen and bloody, both pairs of panties were streaked with 
blood and Kath's left thigh was spattered with the blood still dripping 
steadily from her injured breast.
They raised the sodden gloves when the bell called them together for the 
eighteenth.
After the round, when the two women were slumped on their stools 
bleeding quietly, he thought back over the previous three minutes. It had been 
like an early round of a middle weight fight. They had kept the combinations 
going from one bell to the next.
He involuntarily flicked a gob of gore from his cheek.
That was what the round had been like, leather had flown, blood had too.
'What's happening,' sighed Brian, 'she's back in the reckoning.' 
'Fuck off.'
She sat and watched her face-blood splashing into her lap. 
He shook his head.
Max, keyed up again, called them out for the nineteenth.
They started out in the same vein but Lyn soon got caught with an uppercut to 
the jaw that arched her back and sent her down to measure her length on the 
ring floor.
Joan sighed with satisfaction, Kath backed onto the ropes, the wet, red gloves 
wrapped round the top one.		
Max moved in with his speciality counting.
By the time he'd reached nine, about half a minute later, Lyn was on her knees. 
Brian half hoped that that was as far as she'd get but mostly due to Max, she
struggled up within the ten count. He'd seen her do this several times before,
she was upright, but not fully conscious.
Her eyes were but slits, her soggy gloves at the hip, her feet flat on the
canvas.
Kath knew what she had to do. A glance down at her own cut nipple gave her
the inspiration needed to knock out her best friend.
With both hands she laid into Lyn's taut left breast. After about six
punches the dark aureole burst and blood squirted all over her own front.
She was sickened as she felt Lyn's warm blood running down over her belly
but she had to go on. 
Another right cross tore into the left breast, Max's hand went to his face again.
The action distanced him temporarily from having to think about his position.
'Surely he's going to intervene,' squeaked Brian.
He was saved the bother.
Kath hit her again, the split across her breast widened and blood curtained
down her inert body.		
She stepped back so that her friend could fall cleanly.	
And so she did.
Kath, suddenly the only woman left standing, begin to shake uncontrollably.
Her red gloves still tucked up under her chin, is if ready to defend herself. 
There'd be no need of that now, until next time, if there was a next time.  
It had turned out to be one of the hardest fights she'd ever had.
Joan, seeing the signs, dipped through the ropes to help her. She didn't 
need a count, however drawn out, to tell her that the fight was over.
Brian took her cue.
Max, ever the supernumerary, faded in with the ringsiders.
No official announcement had been made, but the punters lust for blood seemed
to have been satiated and they began, slowly to disperse.
Within a couple of minutes the only people in the vicinity of the ring were
the two boxers, their husbands, and Joan.
Brian grabbed the packet of dressings and such that Lyn, ironically, had
insisted on bringing...