My fave character ever - Lori, from 'The Prizefighters'

[Jaybee]

For those of you who don't know her:

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This woman has been lighting fires in my dreams for over 20 years now.  Her charming sociopathy, her almost feeding-frenzy appetite for combat, quiet disdain for norms/law+order, raw sexual attractiveness, coolly walking into situations that would terrify 99% of sane people, actually often putting herself at a deliberate disadvantage and still coming out not only the winner but thriving, powerlifter strength on an (initially) natty physique.  All of that and can impersonate a "normal" woman.

The saga too is pretty good, Lori "sounds" like a tomboy who is intelligent but doesn't waste words, the author's knowledge of the Boxing world is impressive (as a Boxing aficionado myself), the other characters are intelligently written, and their dialogue is distinct from each other, which is a welcome change as too many authors just use one "voice" for all their characters.   If I had to nitpick, i don't care for how Lori is turned into a roiding psychotic towards the end, and I could have used a few more adjectives for her voice (Oh cool!", she answered chirpily.)

Would love to know :

1) your opinions on her;

2) What other very similar characters you have read, with some links

[Jaybee]

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[jeffbeans]

Hey Jaybee,

Thanks for sharing the links, I hadn't read those before and I love the character of Lori in the first two chapters before he goes completely insane, such a badass character!

I'd say the author Arby has lots of similar stories where powerful badass women beat the hell out of anyone who crosses them. His best character is Rusty, a beautiful incredibly powerful Redhead amazon with blocks for fists, who can hospitalise a room full of men if they try to take her on!

https://www.*****.com/stories/arby/index.htm

Rusty stories:
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Enjoy!

[Chainer★]

THE PRIZEFIGHT


FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723   


The fight had attracted hundreds of men and women from all over the 
country willing to pay the thousand dollar fee to witness a unique 
spectacle. The promoters had arranged to match the two best women 
prizefighters on the east coast in a private contest. The winner 
would receive a fifty thousand dollar first prize. The loser would 
receive five thousand. But more important to the fighters than the 
money, it would give the women the chance to settle a deeply held 
grudge between them.

Georgia stood 5'9" and weighed in at 125. Her dark Florida tan stood 
out in contrast to her bleached blonde hair and gray eyes. She wore 
pink and white short shorts with a pink bikini top. The men in the 
audience sat with their mouths open as she entered the arena. 
Georgia was absolutely shredded without an ounce of body fat. Her 
obviously silicone c-cup's threatened to explode from under her 
skin. Large nipples proudly poked through her satiny bikini top. 
Long lean muscles rippled in her legs as she walked towards the ring 
with her cornerman John.

Lisa by contrast, had the pale white skin that you would expect of
a New York native. She had raven black hair that matched her 
flashing black eyes. Black hair could also be seen peeking out from 
under her armpits, as befitted her sense of feminism. Lisa 
approached the ring topless, wearing tight, full length black 
spandex pants which cut off in a neat line just below her belly button.
This gave her a look that recalled bare knuckled boxers at the turn of 
the century. At 5'8" 124, she appeared to be Georgia's equal in strength 
and reach. Not quite as cut as Georgia, her natural c-cups bounced 
quite a bit as she approached the ring with her cornerman Paul.

The rules of the contest reflected the women's hatred and desire to 
punish her opponent. Each woman sported brutal looking brown leather
bag gloves, tightly laced over hard taped knuckles. Rounds were to be 
two minutes in duration with three minute rests. This would ensure 
that each of the fighters would be able to use maximum effort, and 
that the fight wouldn't be over too quickly. If one of the women 
went down, she would remain down until she got up. If the round 
ended with a fighter down, she must reach her corner by herself, 
without aid of her cornerman. And the most punishing aspect of all, 
the fight would not be over until the winner could not continue, the 
loser was declared nearly dead, or the winner decided that she had 
had enough satisfaction.

There aren't many men who would enter the ring under these 
circumstances. But in they strode, proud and confident in their 
abilities. Between them, they had beaten countless men and women in 
the ring while honing their skills. Georgia did it because she 
enjoyed the ultimate in competition. Lisa, because she enjoyed 
dominating opponents and satisfying her own sadistic urges. Both 
women came in model beautiful, but at most, only one of them would 
leave that way.

The contest would begin with a warm-up bout for each fighter. The 
bouts would be without rounds, and end with the traditional 
ten-count. Each fighter was allowed to chose the man who would 
fight her opponent. The primary purpose of this was to enable the 
audience to evaluate the women's pugilistic skills before wagering 
on the main event.


WARM-UP BOUT 1

For Georgia's opponent, Lisa had chosen a hairy mountain of a man. 
His boxing skills were poor, but she knew from personal experience 
that he could absorb a great deal of punishment. Lisa also wouldn't 
mind a bit if he got lucky and landed a crippling blow on the 
bleached blonde bitch.

As the bell sounded, Georgia cautiously approached her male 
opponent. She was glad she hadn't charged in when one of his ham 
like fists whizzed past her head. As he swung a second blow, she 
ducked and slammed a right hand into his hairy belly. Unfortunately, 
all this did was elicit a grunt from him. She barely had time to 
dance back to avoid a crushing uppercut to her chin.

Ordinarily, Georgia wouldn't be worried. She had defeated men his 
size and larger with her superior skill, speed, and endurance. But 
tonight she couldn't afford to waste her energy wearing him down. 
She had to risk taking him out at the earliest opportunity. As he 
continued to swing at her, she peppered his belly with jabs. He was 
still too dangerous to get close enough to put him away. After about 
five minutes of dancing with him, Georgia decided that he had slowed 
down sufficiently to move in. Dodging a straight right, she darted 
in and put her whole body into a right hook that connected with his 
jaw. A left uppercut snapped his head back with a spray of sweat. 
But before she could finish him off, he managed to cover his face with 
his massive arms.

The audience was going wild, but Georgia was frustrated as she 
rocked her opponent with bodyshots. Her biceps stood out like blood 
engorged baseballs. Her fists tore up the underside of his fat 
belly. Sweat started to roll down her face. She was so busy trying 
to finish him off quickly, that she failed to see the blow that he 
blindly threw. It caught her in the side of the head and staggered 
her. More by instinct than conscious thought, the man swung another 
roundhouse right that connected with the side of Georgia's face, 
sending her spinning to the canvas. The audience had quieted 
somewhat at this surprising turn of events.

The man felt power surge back into his body as he looked down upon 
the struggling form of the bitch that had caused him so much pain. 
He didn't even wait for Georgia to regain her feet before he charged 
over and threw a right uppercut that caught her on the breastbone 
and threw her back onto the ropes. It was Georgia's turn to cover up 
as she tried to regain her senses. Fortunately for her, most of his 
power had been expended earlier in the bout. The blows that 
buffeted her arms were doing little damage and he was running out 
of steam. Acting like she was again staggered, she dropped her 
guard, and lolled with her back on the ropes. The man, seeing the 
helpless woman swaying before him, summoned all his energy for the 
final blow that would send her head flying back into the fifteenth 
row.

As he swung, Georgia snapped back to attention and ducked under his 
arm. Off balance, the man went crashing into the ropes. Spinning him 
by his left shoulder, she pushed him back onto the ropes. With her 
left hand on his chest, she sent her right hand crashing into his 
jaw four times. On the fourth blow she heard the crack of bone 
breaking. Taking her left hand off his hairy breast. She let him 
slump unconscious to the mat. The crowd was on its feet cheering for 
the woman who had defeated a man almost three times her size. But 
Georgia wasn't pleased with her performance. Her lapse in 
concentration had cost her. And with an opponent as dangerous as 
Lisa, she may have already lost.

Lisa was ecstatic. Not only had her boxer kept Georgia in the ring 
for eight grueling minutes, he had hurt her. Not much, but probably 
enough.


WARM-UP BOUT 2

For Lisa's opponent, Georgia had chosen the most skillful male boxer from 
her gym. A compact, well muscled black man, who had about a thirty 
pound advantage over Lisa. Georgia had hoped that his speed and 
skill would keep Lisa occupied for a long, exhausting bout. And at 
this point, it might be the key to her survival.

At the sound of the bell Lisa approached the center of the ring in a 
stance with both fists raised in front of her breasts like John L. 
Sullivan. Her male opponent started to smirk when he saw this.

The man had to smile. Where had this arrogant bitch learned to box? 
She was shuffling towards him a half step at a time with her 
head exposed. She was making little circles with her fists, held in 
front of her tits, like something out of an old movie. And they were 
nice tits. Gently swaying back and forth as her strong pectoral 
muscles transmitted the motion of her arms. Her soft pink nipples 
making them look like two friendly puppies begging to play. Jesus 
Christ!!!

As Lisa moved in, she thought of the pleasure she would get wiping 
that smile off his face. Five feet. She continued to move towards 
him. Four feet. She could see his pig eyes moving down to her 
breasts, the smile growing. Three feet. He never had a chance. As 
his eyes glanced again at her tits, her fist flashed up and caught 
him full on the lips. Stunned, he just stood there as her left hand
smacked him twice more on the same spot. She then stepped in and 
broke his nose with a straight right hand. Her left flashed into his 
jaw carrying the force generated by her twisting shoulders. His 
mouthpiece flew out, followed by two front teeth. He didn't even 
have time to start bleeding before he hit the canvas. The audience 
sat in stunned silence for a few seconds before breaking into wild 
applause. So far, the display of feminine power had exceeded their 
wildest expectations.
 
Lisa allowed herself a smile as she surveyed her work. The once 
proud man, the man who had dared smirk at her, lay at her feet like 
a sorry sack of shit. He was pouring blood from his nose and mouth. 
And the way his lips were split and swelling, he wouldn't be smiling 
at anybody for a long time.

Georgia felt sick. Lisa had destroyed her fighter in the first 
thirty seconds of the match. She wasn't even sweating from the 
lights yet. Georgia left her seat and headed back to the dressing 
room where she would have an hour to prepare for the main event.


THE DRESSING ROOMS

Lisa shadowboxed in her dressing room. The "warm-up" bout hadn't been 
much of a challenge. She smiled as she thought of Georgia's 
beautiful silicone knockers punched flat. Her face beaten to bloody 
hamburger. Her tubes ruptured. Hell, maybe she could knock the 
hair off of her head. As her cornerman Paul quietly worked behind 
her, she wheeled around and gave him a shot to the balls with her 
rock hard taped fist. He lay on the ground moaning, knowing better 
not to ask.

Georgia lay on a table while her cornerman John massaged her 
muscles. "We know she's fast and strong, but we don't know if she 
has your stamina or toughness." John said. "She's never had a fight 
last more than five rounds." Georgia groaned as he reached her sore 
sternum. "The way we agreed to schedule the rest periods, she wont 
need a lot of stamina. And as for toughness, we'll just have to see."
replied Georgia. Tendons crackled as she curled her fingers into a 
fist.


THE MAIN EVENT

ROUND 1

The opponents circled each other. Each occasionally flicking out a 
jab to test her opponents defenses. They were in the process of 
"feeling out" their opponent. Learning each others rhythms. Lisa was 
moving like a normal boxer now. Georgia wouldn't fall for the tit 
fake. As the bell sounded to end the round, both woman looked 
reluctant to return to their corners. It would be a long night. 

ROUND 2

The first half of round two continued like round one. But now the 
jabs were coming a little quicker and harder. Especially from Lisa. 
Georgia's head was snapped back by a left, and she barely managed to 
slip the combination right. She did get in a solid body shot to 
Lisa's abs. Lisa just smiled, her tits didn't even jiggle from the 
blow. Georgia wasn't feeling any more confident at the end of the 
round.

ROUND 3 

The bitch has made her first mistake, thought Georgia, as Lisa 
committed a shot to Georgia's slender waist. Georgia's rock hard abs 
absorbed the blow as she launched a short right to Lisa's face. The 
right didn't do much damage, but it kept Lisa from seeing the left 
that nearly tore her head off. Lisa staggered as Georgia hit her 
with three hard fists to the head, before she brought her guard back 
up. Georgia quickly switched to Lisa's abs, rocking them with a 
dozen solid punches. The bell rang and the referee quickly stepped 
in to stop Georgia. It was her turn to smile now as Lisa returned to 
her corner with her gloved hand held to her stomach.

ROUND 4

Georgia quickly moved in to engage Lisa. Lisa tried to hold her off 
with her lightning fast jabs, but Georgia didn't care. She took the 
punishment to get inside where she continued to punish Lisa's abs. 
Lisa tried to return Georgia's blows, but five hundred sit-ups a day 
had made Georgia's waist like hitting a telephone pole. By the end 
of the round, both fighters were soaked with sweat. Lisa's pale skin 
was red where the bag gloves had tattooed her stomach. As she 
returned to her corner, Georgia was pleased to note the way her abs 
heaved as she breathed heavily. 

Back in Georgia's corner, John sponged Georgia down while warning 
her not to get overconfident. "She's not finished yet, but keep that 
up for a couple more rounds, and you'll own her."

Lisa's cornerman kept his eyes averted as he attended her, and tried 
to hide his true feelings. Sweat was running in rivers down her 
chest, collecting on the undersides of her breasts. The damage to 
her stomach muscles was obviously making it uncomfortable for her to 
breath. He had been waiting a long time to see this.

ROUND 5

Georgia again ignored Lisa's punches as she drove Lisa into a 
corner. Looking down she watched her biceps peak and forearms bulge 
as her leather clad fists smashed Lisa on her beltline. At this 
point, Lisa's abdominal muscles were too tired for her to keep them 
tensed. Desperately, she flexed them in response to Georgia's blows. 
After about a minute of this punishment, her abs finally gave 
completely. Georgia felt her left fist bury itself to the wrist. 
Lisa let out a huge "ooff" and threw her arms around Georgia. Bad 
move. Georgia, her left arm hooked around Lisa's neck, ripped 
another half dozen blows into Lisa's unprotected stomach and ribs. 
Georgia then released her and shoved Lisa into a corner. Lisa just 
stood there with her arms barely raised as Georgia connected with 
another half dozen assorted shots to her head. Lisa fell heavily to 
the canvas just as the round ended.

Georgia felt pumped as she watched Lisa spend the next minute 
struggling back to her corner leaving a trail of blood from a broken 
nose. But it was nothing compared to what she would do to her in the 
next round.

ROUND 6

Lisa knew she was in serious trouble. Georgia was proving tougher 
than she had given her credit for. But there are ways to destroy 
even the toughest opponents, even if means bending the rules a bit. 
Lisa knew her abs could only take about ten more seconds of punishment 
before they failed again. As Georgia moved in, Lisa used her speed 
to rock her with a straight right. Georgia ignored the hit and 
started slugging Lisa's stomach as she had in the previous rounds. 
Lisa returned the first three punches into Georgia's washboard 
stomach. Putting all her strength into her next punch, she 
ripped a blow into the soft mound between Georgia's legs. Georgia's 
face contorted in agony and her legs wobbled. She instinctively 
wrapped her arms around Lisa's shoulders. It was now Lisa's turn to 
work over her opponents unprotected abs. She swore she could feel 
Georgia's spine through her gloves as she drove her back into a 
corner. Lisa stepped back to take advantage of Georgia's lowered 
guard. It was all Georgia could do to stand, as her head was snapped 
back and fourth, the unyielding gloves tearing skin. Her whipping 
blonde hair threw oceans of sweat into the crowd. This was soon 
followed by a fountain of blood, as Lisa paid her back for her broken 
nose. After the bell sounded, Lisa finished up with one more punch to 
Georgia's formerly beautiful nose.

Georgia's cornerman grabbed her as she collapsed onto the stool. 
Georgia's face was a mess. Her nose was broken, her lips were split, 
and one eye was swelling shut. Blood and sweat rolled down her chest 
between her heaving breasts. "Jesus, you've got to stay away from 
her. Try to hold her off on the outside until you've had a chance to 
recover."

ROUND 7

Georgia tried to take John's advice. She managed to keep Lisa away 
with jabs for the first thirty seconds. But her swollen eye betrayed 
her as Lisa caught her on the ear. Georgia went down heavily on the 
stained canvas. She managed to stagger back to her feet, but she was 
clearly out of it. Lisa drove her back against the ropes with a series 
of painful jabs. She enjoyed the feeling of her powerful triceps 
flexing as they drove her fists into Georgia's face. Georgia's blood 
covered her gloves, and was splattered all over her pale skin, making 
her look more like a butcher than a boxer. She stepped back a moment 
to survey her handiwork. Georgia was leaning back against the ropes, 
her hands sloppily held at her sides. Lisa focused on Georgia's 
breasts. The breasts that had all of the male audience members so 
entranced. Their nipples still protruded defiantly through her blood 
and sweat stained top. Well Lisa decided, she had better fulfill 
another long-standing fantasy before the bought was stopped. 
Taking careful aim, she shot a right uppercut into Georgia's left 
breast. The hard leather of Lisa's bag glove exploded under 
Georgia's mammary, sending it flying upwards, and ripping her top 
open. Before Georgia had even felt the first wave of indescribable 
agony, Lisa had hit her vulnerable tits another three times. Georgia 
weakly tried to cover up her injured breasts, but this just gave 
Lisa the chance to alternate more blows into her face and crotch.

Somehow, Georgia remained on her feet until the end of the round. It 
took her thirty seconds to stagger back to her corner. John helped 
her onto the stool and removed her now useless top to reveal her 
ruined breasts. Georgia's left breast sagged noticeably lower than 
her right, which seemed to have shifted towards her armpit. Both 
breasts were bruised and swollen, their nipples puffy. In a pained 
voice Georgia begged "John, you've got to help me. I can't 
go another round with my tits like this. Try to put them back."                                 
John was taken back by this request, but he complied. He gently 
cupped her once firm breasts. Georgia gasped and stiffened like she 
had been shocked. Through clenched teeth she croaked "Keep going."
Ignoring Georgia's whimpers, John started to push and massage her 
tits. Georgia fought not to black out from the pain as John worked 
her sensitive implants back into position. Gradually the pain 
decreased to a dull ache, and her nipples began to respond to the 
kneading of John's strong hands.

Lisa was overwhelmed with feelings of dominance and pleasure from 
inflicting such damage upon her opponent. She enjoyed the sight of 
Georgia, slumped in her corner twitching with agony as her cornerman 
worked on her. Her own cornerman Paul, was trembling slightly as he 
worked on her. Even the crowd had grown silent as they watched the 
match turn into a one sided slaughter. Lisa hoped that Georgia would 
stupidly stand in front of her again this round. She'd make sure 
that the blond bitch would be wearing her plastic tits on her back.

ROUND 8 

At the sound of the bell Georgia barely managed to stand in her 
corner and wait as Lisa stalked her. Lisa started by flicking 
painful jabs at Georgia's face and breasts. She didn't want to 
finish her off to quickly. Lisa ducked as Georgia put all her 
remaining strength into one last surprise roundhouse right. Lisa had 
been expecting something like that. Georgia doubled over and fell to 
the canvas clutching her crotch as Lisa hit her again in her 
womanhood. A dazed Georgia managed to crawl to the center of the 
ring and get to her knees. Before she could even attempt to get 
to her feet again, Lisa rushed over and snapped her head back with 
and underhand right. Georgia crumpled on her back as Lisa raised her 
arms in victory.

Lisa paraded around her vanquished opponent. She had hoped to do 
even more damage, but she should have known that the blonde bitch 
wasn't tough enough to take it. The crowd started to respond to her 
as she displayed the female body that dominated everyone present. 
Their cheers grew deafening as she raised her gloved arms and flexed 
biceps that matched her c-cups.

Unknown to Lisa, Georgia had managed to turn over and get up on 
all fours. The crowd started to cheer the valiant effort as she 
incredibly got back on her feet. Georgia shuffled over to Lisa, 
where the brunette stood, arrogantly flexing her muscles for the 
crowd. Slapping a hand over one of Lisa's bulging biceps, she spun 
her around and sent a straight right crashing into her face. Georgia 
attacked with the fury of the animal that she had been reduced to. 
Fist after fist crashed into Lisa's body with superhuman strength 
brought on by a surge of adrenaline. With Lisa on the ropes, Georgia 
savagely attacked her breasts in retribution. Lisa screamed as 
Georgia's fists tore up the soft fatty tissues which she had never 
allowed any man or woman to touch before. After delivering thirty 
seconds worth of thudding blows, Georgia's adrenaline finally ran 
out and the frenzy ended. Lisa barely kept her feet in a sheer 
effort of will. Her once virgin breasts now looked like something 
out of national geographic.

Georgia allowed herself a mental smile as she thought that Lisa 
would be needing breast implants of her own now. Summoning one last 
effort, she crouched and whipped a fist up from the floor between 
Lisa's wobbling thighs. Lisa screamed like a girl as she sank to her 
knees and then rolled over on her side unconscious. Georgia threw 
her burning arms up and raised her head in victory for the wildly 
cheering crowd. She barely managed to hear the referee declare her 
victory, before she blacked out and fell on top of her still opponent.




* The characters of Georgia and Lisa are inspired by bodybuilders 
Georgia Fudge and Lisa Lyon, both popular in the early eighties. 
Any gif's which readers could upload to accompany this story would
be appreciated.




                          THE PRIZEFIGHT II
                            CLUB CHAMPION
                          -----------------


All of the members of the Westside Boxing Club crowded around the 
ring to watch the club championship match being decided. In the 
ring, the defending champion Butch Greyson was tearing his opponent 
apart in the second round. At one hundred and ninety pounds, Butch 
wasn't the largest fighter in the club, but everyone knew he was the 
meanest. He kept his reputation intact as he continued to wail away 
on the challenger, even as he went down. The referee quickly stepped 
in and stopped the beating. Butch retrieved the club championship 
belt from his corner and paraded around the ring yelling "If anyone 
wants to try and take this from me, let me know, anyplace, anytime."

Later, as he came out of the locker room, Butch bumped into one of 
the clubs growing number of female members. He wasn't surprised, 
women often threw themselves at him after witnessing such a primal 
battle for dominance as he won today. She was an attractive 
brunette, almost as tall as himself at about 5'9".

"Hey, your Lori, right? Didn't I fight your boyfriend last month?"

Lori kept a neutral tone as she replied "Yeah, you broke his jaw. 
He's still eating through a straw."

"Looking to trade up to a real man?" asked Butch.

"Actually, I was looking to take you up on your offer. You know, 
anyplace, anytime." 

"You got another boyfriend for me to beat up?"

"Yeah, I've got a challenge for you. Tonight at ten, after closing. 
Bring your belt, your going to lose it."

"On one condition, if I win, I get you."

Lori smiled "If you win, you can do anything you want to me. If you 
lose, I do anything I want to you. Deal?"

"Why not? There isn't anyone here I can't beat. See you at ten."

Butch came out of the locker room at ten and entered the darkened 
gym. As he approached the lit ring, he saw Lori approach from the 
direction of the women's locker room alone.

"What's the matter? Your fighter chicken out?"

"God, your slow as well as ugly. In case you haven't figured it out 
yet. I want your belt." 

"Hey, I don't fight no girls. Why don't we just jump ahead to what 
you really want." Grabbing his balls Butch said "I've got your prize 
right here."

Lori looked at this display with disgust. "What's the matter you 
macho asshole, afraid to fight a women. Afraid that a women is going 
to kick your ass and take your belt. Why don't you get in the ring 
and fight me like a man you ball-less worm."

Butch was pissed. Who was this bitch to challenge his masculinity? 
"You want to fight like a man? Then lets fight like men. No gloves, 
no rules, last man standing wins."

"Or last women," replied Lori as she calmly stepped through the 
ropes.

"One last thing bitch. If you want to fight like a man, take your 
shirt off."

"Why do we need clothes at all, unless you've got something   
to hide."

"All right bitch, you were going to be seeing me later anyway," 
replied Butch as he angrily struggled with his shorts and jock.

Lori allowed herself a smile as she stripped out of her sweats. She 
had already won the mental battle and was looking forward to 
the coming physical battle. Her body was well muscled from years of 
bodybuilding. Though she did not appear big, she weighed in at one 
hundred and forty six pounds. Her fifteen inch arms sported biceps the 
size of baseballs when she flexed. She held the gym record for 
double arm curls in her weight class at one hundred and fifty 
pounds. Most men in her gym couldn't match her. And that was what 
she was doing here tonight, looking for more challenges.

Butch liked what he saw. Lori had an awesome body. She had long 
muscular legs topped by a very thin washboard waist. Her B-cup 
breasts looked round and firm with large dark nipples pointing 
upwards. Perspiration had started to bead and trickle off her 
prominent pecs between her breasts as she warmed up with some 
shadow boxing. He had to admit that she looked serious. But he 
intended to quickly teach her who was boss before he claimed his 
prize in the center of the ring.

"Lets go," Butch said. "We've got a lot to do later after I've won."

Lori didn't say a word. She just inserted her mouthpiece, raised 
her taped knuckles, and slowly approached the center of the ring. 
Butch danced in the center of the ring waiting for her. He was 
beginning to enjoy the feeling of his balls swinging in front of her. 
He was getting hard with the anticipation of his dominance over her. 
As she entered his range, he shot a quick jab at her head, and was 
shocked that she was quick enough to cleanly duck it. He was even 
more shocked when she shot her fist into his nose. Christ that hurt. 
Enraged, he swung a roundhouse right at the side of her head which 
she again ducked. Her fist countered with a loud thud to his side 
which knocked his breath out. Standing, she delivered a combination 
left right to his chin which sent him to the canvas.

Its amazing how fast men can lose a hard-on, thought Lori, as she 
watched Butch get up off the floor. Lori had reduced him to a 
bloody mess in less than thirty seconds. Lori had no illusions 
though, the damage was mostly cosmetic, coming from a broken nose.

Butch got up enraged and charged Lori. Lori allowed him to drive 
her into the ropes with his wildly swinging fists. Butch took 
advantage of Lori's position with a series of punches to her thin 
waist which would cut her down like a tree. Butch was amazed as his 
hands smacked against her rippled abdomen. It was like hitting a 
telephone pole. His hands were hurting. At the end of his flurry, 
Lori dropped her guard to let him see the look of contempt on her 
face. She then started her own offensive, peppering his face with 
hard jabs. Butch's head snapped back and forth as she drove him 
towards the opposite side of the ring. He was powerless against her 
speed and strength. Eventually he found his back against the ropes. 
Lori crouched low and started ripping shots to his naked stomach 
with her balled fists. Butch wanted to fold, it felt as though he 
was being shot, but Lori's shoulder was preventing him from 
falling. Lori took pleasure from working her biceps on something 
more fun than the heavy bag. Stepping back quickly, she delivered 
three right crosses to his face before he had time to fall.

Lori felt truly alive now as she looked down upon her vanquished 
opponent. Boxing with her boyfriend had been fun until Butch had put 
him in the hospital, but it couldn't compare to this. Entering the 
ring naked and pitting your body against a males in a contest 
where only one person would be standing at the end.

"Get up."

Butch struggled to all fours. He saw drops of blood falling from his 
face to splatter the ring. As he managed to get to his knees, he saw 
Lori dancing on the balls of her feet in front of him. Jesus, this 
couldn't be happening. He was the club champion, and he was getting 
his ass kicked by a woman. Lori moved closer.

"Get up. Get up and give me a fight. Show me how to fight like a 
man. Or are you enjoying losing to a girl?" 

Butch's next action came from some sort of instinct deep inside. He 
summoned his remaining strength and shot a hard taped fist into her 
crotch. Lori screamed and bent over grabbing her womanhood. Still 
on his knees, Butch sent another punch into the pain wracked face in 
front of him. Lori spun and landed heavily on the mat in a fetal 
position. Butch managed to gain his feet above her.

"No rules. Remember bitch?" Butch spit out of bloody teeth.

Butch was feeling better now, watching Lori turn over and get to 
her knees. Before she could get up, he quickly rushed over and 
delivered a low right which caught her square on the mouth and sent 
her back down.

"Come on bitch, what's the matter? I thought you wanted to fight some 
more."

Butch felt good now. The memory of his earlier beating in a fair 
fight was already fading and becoming distorted. He allowed Lori to 
barely get to her feet before he moved in again. She was barely able 
to stand on wobbling legs. Butch sent a series of roundhouses to her 
unprotected head. He then used his superior weight to shove her into 
the nearest corner. Helplessly trapped, he started to pound her 
now yielding midsection. Moving up, he took careful aim and 
flattened her perky sweat and blood covered breasts. After a few 
moments he stood back exhausted and surveyed his handiwork. Lori 
was all fucked up. Blood, her own blood now, ran down her face from 
a cut above the eye and a split lip. Her breasts sagged and her 
nipples were puffy. He couldn't believe she was still standing. 
Well, he would take care of that.

"Hope you weren't planning on children bitch," he sneered as his 
fist rocketed for her ovaries.

Instinctively Lori managed to twist her hips and only take a 
bruising blow to the upper thigh. Wrapping her arms around his neck, 
she responded with a knee to his balls. Butch screamed like a woman 
as his sensitive manhood became the target. Butch staggered to the 
center of the ring. Lori slowly and painfully left the corner to 
pursue him. Both fighters knew that the next exchange would decided 
the contest. With no thought to defense they started exchanging 
blows. In the end, Butch could only watch the final blow as Lori 
flexed a powerful tricep to send his head snapping back into 
oblivion.

When he regained consciousness he felt worse than he ever had in his 
life. He was used to giving beatings, not taking them. His balls 
were aching from the knee Lori had given him, drowning out the pain 
from the rest of his body. Oddly, he felt his back resting on 
something hard. Flexing his burning abs, he managed to raise his 
body. Lori was standing in front of him. Evidently he had been out 
long enough for her to take a shower and get cleaned up. She was 
standing in front of him topless, wearing his championship belt. He 
felt a shock of fear go through his body as he realized the position 
he was in. Lori had tied his legs spread eagled to the top rope. 
His hands were tied across his chest, and his balls were hanging 
down in the corner. He looked down to see that his scrotum had 
swollen to the size of a melon and had turned purple and blotchy.

"Aren't you going to congratulate the new club champion?" she asked.

"Jesus Lori, please get me to a hospital," he whimpered.

"You know, all I intended to do was to take your belt. But that was 
before that shit about having children. Now I'm going to take the 
rest of the prize. Remember, the winner gets to do anything she 
wants to the loser. Well you weren't man enough for me to finish my 
workout. Now I'll have to finish without you."

Butch watched with a sick fascination as Lori started to shadow box 
in front of him. After a few minutes, she was again glistening with 
sweat. Her upper body was pumped. Her hands blurred as she moved. 
How the hell did he ever think he could have beaten her? She now 
moved into the corner and started to lightly jab at his swollen 
balls. Butch's eyes bugged as he felt the gentle tapping and heard 
her fists lightly patting him. Her breasts swayed rhythmically from 
side to side as she moved, her nipples erect and excited.

"Say good night Gracie," said Lori as she darted in and sent an 
uppercut with her bare fist to his manhood.

He heard the sickening slap and watched his balls fly up in the air 
in front of him. He saw Lori duck down and fire a straight right at 
his battered sack. This time he felt a crack through his entire body, 
and knew that she had split one of his balls like a grape. His last 
thought before he lost consciousness again was that she looked like 
she still had plenty of energy left.

On her way out Lori did Butch the favor of calling an ambulance. 
Her lone figure walked alone and unafraid down the mean city streets
with the championship belt over her shoulder. She would now have to
look elsewhere for a better challenge.



                          THE PRIZEFIGHT III
                             CASH FIGHT
                          -----------------


Joey Lopez had heard there was a woman fighting on the circuit, but 
he had never expected to find himself facing her. The fights were 
highly illegal. Bare knuckles matches with few rules. Last man 
standing wins. Held in warehouses, basements, and back rooms. The 
fights were patronized by wealthy gamblers who were willing to pay 
outrageous fees to witness boughts they couldn't see in Vegas. An 
outside witness to tonight's event would have been puzzled to see 
limousines discharging well dressed men and their trophy girlfriends 
in front of the old factory. Each had paid thousands for admission 
and would gamble away tens of thousands more on what amounted to 
human cockfights. 

Joey was fighting in the tenth and final bought. He wasn't happy 
about fighting the woman for a number of reasons. He was one of the 
best fighters on the circuit. An ex-professional boxer who had been 
banned from the sport for participating in fixed fights. Tonight's 
fight wasn't fixed. Fixing a fight on the circuit could get you 
killed. So why were his talents being wasted on this woman? And why 
were the odds only two to one in his favor? They should be at least 
ten to one.

Sharon waited patiently for her bought to begin. The attendants were 
mopping the blood and sweat from the floor of the freight elevator 
which served as the ring. It wouldn't do to have a fighter slip and 
hurt himself accidentally with the kind of money that was being 
wagered. 

The announcer called the first fighter into the ring. "Ladies and 
gentleman. Introducing at six feet and one hundred and ninety five 
pounds, with a record of twenty and two, the former Chicago champion,
Joey Lopez!"

The crowd cheered as Joey shed his robe and entered the ring with 
his arms raised. Sharon had to admit that he appeared to be a 
formidable opponent. From what she had heard, he had been in line 
for a title shot before he had been banned.

The announcer continued, "And introducing a special challenger, at 
five feet eleven inches and one hundred and seventy pounds, with a 
record of three wins, no losses, the challenger, Sharon Moore.

The crowd went berserk as Sharon shed her robe and entered the ring. 
From the waist down she was wearing a tight fitting blue spandex 
exercise bottom, which clung to her muscular thighs. From the waist 
up, she wore nothing but a thin coat of oil. Her body was magnificent. 
At her height and weight, she was not hugely muscled, but her 
sixteen inch arms were still bigger than those of most of the men 
watching. There wasn't and ounce of fat on her, unless you counted 
her high riding C-cup breasts, which had started as double D's before 
she had started training seriously. Her dark nipples stuck out 
straight, big as finger tips, betraying their excitement.

Sharon had the face of a model with black hair and blue-gray eyes. 
But if you looked close you might notice a few scars, and a nose that 
had been broken as she paid her dues. Sharon had been introduced to 
boxing at an early age. Her father had been a golden gloves champion, 
and had taught her and her brothers to box. She loved boxing, and had 
often knocked out her brothers in their small basement ring. During 
college, she had joined a co-ed boxing gym and had won all of her 
boughts. The state she was in didn't have professional female 
boxing. So when a promoter for the underground fighting circuit had 
approached her with an offer, she took him up on it. 

Her first fight had been against an aggressive young black teenager 
looking for some easy money. Sharon destroyed him within two 
minutes. In the process she found that she liked fighting on the 
circuit better than regular boxing. There was a certain purity about 
the sport. No judges, no decisions, the winner was the one able to 
leave the ring. She also discovered that she enjoyed beating men 
like dogs. Not only physically, but mentally. Most of the men she 
faced had fragile egos, which were totally shattered by a loss to a 
woman. She had even heard that a man from her gym had committed 
suicide, after he had lost to her in a particularly one sided affair.

Each fighter entered the elevator from an opposing gate. It was then 
lowered about four feet to form a pit about fifteen feet square. The 
small crowd moved to the edge to watch as the fight began.

Joey wasn't one to take chances. Girl or not, he understood that 
anything could happen in this type of fight. With no referee or ring 
doctor, men had died in these fights. As he closed with Sharon in 
the center of the pit, he planned to use his reach advantage to 
score first. Jabbing with his lightning fast left, he was amazed to 
find that Sharon was able to dart back a step and make him miss 
completely. Moving forward, he tried again with two quick flicks of 
his fist. Again, Sharon managed to make him miss. Moving forward 
again for a third try, his head was suddenly snapped back three 
times by Sharon's left fist. He barely managed to duck the right hand 
which followed. Joey retreated a few steps as he rethought his 
strategy. She was much fasted than he was, and knew how to box. Well, 
he still had the strength advantage. Joey decided that he had better 
sacrifice a few shots to get close to her, and then get her respect. 
Moving aggressively, he suffered several shots to the face. When he 
was close enough that she couldn't avoid him, he unleashed a wicked 
body shot to her side. Sharon grunted as her torso twisted and 
rippled to absorb the blow. Joey, trying to take advantage of her 
lowered guard, quickly moved his fist back and threw a roundhouse 
right which would take her head off. He was totally unprepared when 
his arm was stopped dead by her raised forearm. Time seemed to stop 
for a moment as he stared into her face. It was clear from her 
expression that his hardest punch had no effect. He tried to bring 
his arm up to cover his face, but it was too late. Her straight 
right shot out full force into his nose. Joey went down hard on the 
unyielding floor. He shook his head slowly from side to side. His 
broken nose bleed heavily to form a small puddle on the floor.

Sharon moved back to the furthest corner as the crowd cheered at the 
sight of first blood. Money exchanged hands as side bets were paid 
off. Under the rules of the contest, Joey had thirty seconds to gain 
his feet. Sharon watched him as he struggled to his feet at the count 
of twenty. She knew he wouldn't stay down. Sometimes bad things 
happened to fighters whom the promoters thought were trying to avoid 
a beating. And this would be a beating. So far she was not 
impressed by his strength or speed. Time to test his stamina. As 
soon as he had gained his feet, Sharon was on top of him. Peppering 
his face with a series of light jabs that drove him towards the 
wall. As soon as his back touched the wall, she twisted low and 
ripped a punch into his lower abs. Her bicep and forearm swelled as 
they drove her fist into his guts. Joey tried to double over but 
Sharon's shoulder was holding him up. After half a dozen more shots 
his abs gave out and he reflexively tried to wrap her up with his 
arms. Sharon ignored Joey's embrace as she took advantage of his 
proximity with a punch intended to dig under his rib cage. Her fist 
shot up and ripped into his solar plexus. She felt his whole body 
stiffen against hers, as if he had been shocked by a cattle prod. 
Placing her hands on his chest, she slammed him into the wall. 
Stepping back, she started to snap his head from side to side with 
well timed blows. She stopped for a second to observe her handiwork. 
Joey's face was a mess. Both eyes were swelling shut, his lips were 
split, and his nose was mashed to one side. Blood was pouring out of 
a cut above his right eye. Before he could slump down the wall, she 
delivered a classic uppercut to his jaw. Joey's head snapped backwards 
splattering the crowd with blood. The thirty count was a formality 
as the elevator was raised. 

Sharon enjoyed the excitement of the crowd as they swarmed around 
her. Some of the bolder men in the crowd actually touched her sweaty 
body as they congratulated her. An observer would notice that they 
still kept their distance, as if she were some kind of dangerous 
exotic animal. As Sharon left the ring area, the promoters continued 
to circulate among the patrons, collecting thousands of dollars in 
tips for her performance. 

Two days later, the promoter who had originally sponsored her, 
showed up to Sharon's gym. Sharon wasn't hard to spot. She was in 
the center ring giving a man a boxing lesson. Sharon's victim had 
been unfortunate enough to have asked her to go out with him. Sharon 
had agreed, but only if he could beat her. He was now crouched in the 
corner trying to survive. Even though they were wearing headgear and 
sixteen ounce gloves, Sharon's powerful blows still managed to beat 
him to his knees. Sharon left the ring unsatisfied. Gym rules 
wouldn't let her have a proper fight. So she was pleased when she 
saw Paul waiting for her.

"Hey Paul, you didn't come all this way just to watch me put away 
Mr. Hormones there, did you?"

"Good news Sharon, after your performance with Joey Lopez, we've 
decided to let you have a shot at the Chicago champion. If you think 
your up for it. Its a hundred grand minimum payday for the winner."

Sharon smiled. She wasn't in it for the money, but it certainly 
didn't hurt. "Sign me up."

"That's excellent Sharon, we'll schedule the fight for two weeks from 
tonight in the same location."


Two weeks later, Sharon was waiting in her dressing area to be 
called for the main event. Paul entered the room to call her. 

"Let's go champ. Don't forget your mouthpiece."

Paul reached into her gym bag to retrieve it for her, but clumsily 
dropped it on the floor.

"Sorry Sharon, I'll wash it off for you quick."

When Paul returned the mouthpiece to her, Sharon didn't notice the 
thin oily coating that was now on it. As Sharon entered the ring 
area, she inserted her mouthpiece. She felt a strange stinging 
sensation on her tongue and gums, but at the time she just assumed 
that it was some sort of disinfectant that Paul had used to clean it.

The announcer addressed the audience, who had already been worked 
into a blood frenzy with the preliminaries. "Ladies and Gentlemen, 
tonight we are proud to present a very special main event. Here to 
defend his Chicago championship, at six feet one inches tall and 
weighing two hundred and thirty pounds, with a record of thirty two 
and three, the windy city destroyer, Ken Stone."

"And introducing the challenger, at five feet eleven inches and one 
hundred and seventy three pounds, with a record of four wins, no 
losses, Sharon Moore."

While the announcements were being made, Sharon studied her 
opponent. Ken Stone was a huge man with an overly developed upper 
body. His hairy belly showed a bit of flab, but Sharon wasn't 
deceived. You didn't get to be a champion with any obvious 
weaknesses. Ken had a reputation for being able to ignore pain while 
delivering a massive amount of punishment. He was the most dangerous 
man Sharon had ever faced, and she didn't intend on taking chances 
with him.

The crowd went wild as Sharon stepped onto the elevator floor. The 
odds were three to one against her, but the majority of the crowd was 
betting heavily on her after witnessing her last fight.

When the elevator stopped, the fighters started to approach 
each other. Ken held his fists low around his waist, while Sharon 
held hers high in a more professional stance. As Sharon got within 
range, she jabbed two quick lefts into Ken's ugly face. Before she 
could follow up with her right, she was forced to duck a huge right 
hand which seemed to come out of nowhere. Sharon stepped back 
quickly as she thought out her strategy. Ken moved a lot quicker 
than he looked capable of. Darting back in, she faked a right to his 
midsection. As he swung his left hand to take advantage of her 
lowered guard, she ducked and popped back up with a right cross to 
his chin. Ken staggered a bit from the blow, shook his head, and came 
on. Sharon was reassured that he could be hurt. If she maintained 
her distance and used her superior speed and skill, she should be 
able to wear him out. But even as she thought of victory, a wave of 
dizziness coursed though her.

She was barely able to deflect a left jab. She misjudged Ken's next 
punch which glanced off her forehead. The blow hadn't caught her 
very hard, but she stumbled backwards, her vision swimming. As she 
tried to recover, She was caught full force with a roundhouse to her 
ear which sent her crashing to the floor. Sharon dimly heard the 
count, as Ken stood in a corner taunting her. "Come on 
bitch. Get up. I thought you were supposed to be tough." Sharon 
struggled to her feet at the count of twelve. Ken moved in again and 
stood in front of her. "Come on little girl, lets see what you've 
got." Sharon tried to accept his invitation, but her muscles seemed 
drained of strength as her punches landed without effect on his face 
and body. After taking about twenty shots, Ken stepped in and 
wrapped up her right arm with his tree trunk left. Jacking her up 
painfully on her toes he announced to the crowd, "My turn again." 
Using his free right hand, Ken proceeded to jam his fist into her 
lower belly. Sharon gasped painfully and tried to double up, but his 
left arm prevented her from moving. Ken continued to work his way up 
with his punches. Sharon felt her lower ribs crack as he reached 
them. The crowd screamed with her, the first time he hammered her 
left breast. Sharon tried desperately to cover up with her left arm, 
but Ken left it numb and useless with a series of chops above the 
elbow. She was forced to hear the wet slapping sound and feel the 
aching pain in her chest as each carefully aimed blow landed. But 
worst of all, she could see his fists flattening her tits as they 
landed, then her sensitive mammeries quivering with the shock wave 
as they withdrew. It was almost a relief when he started to hit her 
in the face. Sharon again tried to move, but could only watch his 
taped taped fist moving like a piston. She saw her blood splattering 
on his hairy chest and stomach. She was vaguely aware of 
some of the more squeamish in the crowd screaming for the fight to 
stop. Then, she blacked out.


Six months later:

Paul was working late in his small office. Tonight's take had been 
particularly good. As he worked on the books, a shadow fell across 
his desk. Paul looked up and was surprised to see Sharon standing 
over him.

"Jesus Sharon, you scared the shit out of me. I haven't seen you 
since the night that... well, you know. Your looking good. I hope 
you recovered OK."

Sharon sat down in front of him. "Yea, I'm feeling pretty good now. 
Spent a few weeks in the hospital, but no permanent damage. In fact, 
I wouldn't mind getting back into it."

Paul was shocked. After the beating Sharon took, he was surprised 
that she wasn't curled in a ball somewhere sucking her thumb. "Well 
Sharon, I think I could hook you up with something, if that's what you 
really want."

"Actually, I was hoping for another shot at the title."

"Well, I don't know if I could arrange that. A lots happened since 
you've been away. And you did lose ..."

Paul didn't have a chance to complete his last sentence before 
Sharon shot across the table and yanked him from his seat by the 
lapels. With no obvious effort she slammed him to the floor on his 
back, knocking the wind out of him.

"Lost what Paul? What did I lose?" Sharon asked, punctuating her 
question with a backhand across his face. "Let me tell you what I 
lost. I lost five weeks of my life recovering from three broken 
ribs, a fractured cheekbone, and internal injuries. Now you could 
say that I knew the risks going in, except for one thing. The night 
they took me to the emergency room, they did a blood scan. Want to 
know what they found Paul?" Sharon slapped him again, splitting his 
lip. "I was drugged Paul. I did a little checking. Most of the 
people where betting big on me, but you never adjusted the odds. I 
thought that mouthpiece felt funny when I put it in. Now I know
why." Sharon lifted Paul a few inches off the ground with her left 
hand and drew back her right fist. "Now I want my title shot, and I 
want it tonight. You call that asshole Stone, and have him meet us at 
the factory. I don't care what you tell him."

Ken Stone was pissed. What the fuck was so important that it 
couldn't wait until tomorrow. And why meet here? As Ken entered the 
door to the factory, he saw that the only lit area was the elevator 
that served as a ring. As he got closer, he saw that the elevator 
had been lowered into fighting position. But the strangest sight was 
Paul bound and gagged naked in a corner.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

"We are." Sharon said as she stepped out of the shadows on the 
opposite side of the elevator. She was stripped to the waist and 
looked even better than she had before. It was obvious that she had 
added at least ten pounds of muscle to her upper body since their 
last meeting. Her breasts now rode even higher on her rounded pects. 
"Me and Paul here were just discussing how you won our last match. 
We felt that you should give me another chance. That is, if you 
aren't afraid to fight a woman that isn't drugged you fucking 
balless worm!"

Ken was enraged. "You think I wanted that! I told him that I 
wouldn't have any problem whipping your pretty ass, but he said that 
there was too much money riding on the fight for him to take any 
chances. But you want to try me for real? Then lets go bitch. But 
when you lose, I'm going to bend you over and fuck you up your tight 
little ass in the center of the ring."

"Talk is cheap asshole. Lets get it done." Sharon said as she jumped 
into the pit.

Ken ripped his shirt off and jumped in after her. Sharon attacked 
first catching Ken with a right to the jaw. She ducked his 
responding right and launched a left into his belly. Ken grunted 
from the impact. The bitch was as strong as any man he had ever 
faced, but not strong enough. He charged in swinging at her muscular 
torso. His fists thudded into her abs and ribs, driving her back into 
a corner. Ken smiled, knowing that she was trapped. His fists sounded 
like they were hitting a hollow log as he continued to pound her 
body. After another minute, he was starting to wheeze. No man had 
ever been able to stand that much punishment. He took a step 
backwards and looked at her smiling face.
 
"You aren't finished already, are you? But then, you do look like 
you have problems keeping it up."
 
Ken snarled inarticulately and shot a wild right at her smiling 
face. Sharon ducked under his armpit as his fist impacted painfully 
with concrete. Behind him now, Sharon placed her left hand in the 
center of his back and shoved him into the corner. Using her free 
right, she slammed him in the kidneys. Ken screamed like a woman as 
each blow landed. When Sharon was satisfied that he would be pissing 
blood for a week, she spun him around and started on his face. 
Sharon's big triceps and shoulders worked to drive her 
fists into his head. Her taped knuckles bit cruelly into his flesh, 
opening up a dozen cuts. Finally, he fell forward onto his hands 
and knees, dazed by the pounding. 

"Come on asshole, get up. I didn't think a girl could beat you. 
Lets see some action." Sharon taunted.

Stone managed to get to his feet and throw a clumsy left-right 
combination which Sharon avoided easily. From a crouch she used her 
blood engorged biceps to deliver four crushing punches to his 
belt line. Ken felt like heaving his guts up. Before he could fall 
again, Sharon used his own move to wrap up his arm and pin him 
against the wall.

"Payback time asshole." Sharon snarled as she sent her right fist 
into his ribcage.

Blow after blow landed as Ken writhed to escape.

"Oh, I almost forgot the most important part." Sharon said as her 
fist connected with a hairy nipple.

It was Ken's turn to witness the destruction of his manly chest. He 
tried to use his free arm to cover up, but Sharon just alternated 
between nipples. Sharon kept up this torture for three more minutes 
before she was satisfied.

"Looks like your going to need to wear a B-cup." Sharon said as she 
surveyed his ruined breasts.

Sharon released his arm and twisted, sending a well timed elbow to 
shatter his jaw and break a few teeth. Turning to Paul who had been 
watching the fight, she saw that he was sweating heavily and looked 
frightened.

Ripping the tape off of his mouth she asked "Who's the Chicago 
champion now Paul?"

"Y-you, you are Sharon."

"And who would have been the champion six months ago if you hadn't 
drugged me and cheated your patrons?"

"You Sharon. P-please don't hurt me Sharon. I didn't tell Ken to 
beat you that bad the first time. Just let me go and I'll let you 
have the money. The hundred grand you should have won. There's at 
least that much taped in an envelope to the bottom of my desk."

"Thanks Paul. I'll take you up on that. And when pencil dick there 
wakes up, you might want to ask him to untie you and get the hell 
out of here. Because by that time, your patrons will have had a 
chance to see the videotape we just made."

"N-no Sharon, you can't do that. They'll kill me."

Sharon made no reply to Paul's pleas as she raised the elevator and 
walked out of the light. She was already thinking about how she 
would train for a national title shot.


                          THE PRIZEFIGHT IV
                             THE TRAINER
                          -----------------


My name is Tony, and I am a thirty two year old computer programmer. 
About two years ago I joined a boxing gym to keep in shape. The 
first time I walked in, I was surprised to see that the gym 
attracted a lot of women. Most of them joined for the superior 
workout boxing provides. Many of them found that they enjoyed the 
sport. And a few of them found that they just loved to kick ass. My 
current girlfriend, Diane, was in the second category.

Diane had joined the gym six months after me. She was a beautiful 
blonde with a golden tan. Five foot seven, and about one hundred and 
thirty pounds. She was no stranger to athletic competition, having 
played some softball and beach volleyball. But she really took to 
boxing. I had been watching her for about three months when she 
approached me and asked me if I would spar with her. I was six feet 
tall, and one eighty, so I figured that I could afford to go easy on 
her. My mistake. Diane took me apart. I didn't land a single punch. Of 
course, she wasn't distracted by a pair of friendly D-cup puppies 
begging to play. Afterwards, she offered to make it up to me by 
taking me out to dinner. We started going out and training together. 
The rest as they say, is history.

Shortly after we started to train together, I introduced her to 
weight training. The effect on her body was amazing. Inside of a 
year, she had added twenty pounds of muscle. Her breasts shrunk from 
D-cups to rock hard C's. Needless to say, I couldn't be happier. It 
was my fantasy. To have a girlfriend with a great body, and be able 
to further shape that body to perfection. Of course, Diane and I had 
two different ideas of what sport we were training for.

A few months ago, a new woman named Lori joined the gym. Lori was 
five foot nine, and about one hundred and sixty well toned pounds. It 
soon became obvious to everyone that she was the kind of woman who 
enjoyed kicking ass. No stranger to boxing, it was rumored that she 
had to leave another gym after nearly beating a man to death in the 
ring. Of course, I assumed that this was probably just nasty gossip. 
That was, until I met her. 

Diane and I had been working out for about an hour. Diane had 
decided to hit the weight room, and left me working the heavy bag. I 
was aware of Lori hitting the bag next to me. Her blows sounded like 
they were thudding the soft surface as hard as mine. I stopped to 
watch her work for a minute. She was wearing a sweaty tank top which 
displayed her clearly defined arm muscles as she continued hitting 
the bag. The eighty pound bag shuddered with each blow. Her pumped 
biceps looked as if they would peak at over sixteen inches. She 
had a handsome face. It would probably be described as pretty, if 
it were made up, instead of beaded with sweat. But what held my gaze 
were her bouncing B-cups. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a 
bra. The thin white material of her top clearly displayed a pair of 
large dark nipples as firm and erect as my little finger. I was 
more than a little turned on as I watched them dancing on top of her 
hard working pecs. Evidently, she must have noticed my gaze, because 
she abruptly stopped and turned to me.

"Hey studmuffin, you don't look like you're busy. Why don't we do a 
little sparring."  She didn't wait for a reply as she headed for one 
of the club's small rings.

Since I had been working out with Diane, I had bulked up to well 
over two hundred pounds of rock hard muscle. I sparred regularly 
with a number of the clubs male members, and a few women other than 
Diane. So I wasn't worried when I donned my headgear and followed 
her into the ring. Lori disdained headgear as she climbed between 
the ropes and waited for me. We touched gloves and began to box. I 
threw a few jabs at her which she easily avoided. I missed with a 
roundhouse right and was stunned when Lori hooked my ribs just like 
the bag. She quickly followed up with a straight left which 
painfully smashed my nose. I withdrew a few steps and wiped my nose 
on my wrist. I was pissed when I saw blood.

"What the fuck's wrong with you. I thought you wanted to spar, 
not go for the title."

Lori smiled, "What title? Heavyweight wimp of the world. My little 
sister is a better boxer."

That was more than enough to set me off. Female or not, I was 
fighting for real now. I charged her swinging with both fists, 
driving her into a corner. Lori caught my blows on her raised 
gloves and forearms. Lowering my aim, I ripped a dozen shots into 
her belly and ribs. It was like hitting a block of rubber. Lori 
lowered her gloves to show me that my blows had no effect.

Lori sneered, "If that's your best stud, then you're in trouble. It's 
my turn now."

I tried to keep it together as she bore into me. A crowd was 
gathering around the ring to watch the action. Lori's fists crashed 
into my abs as she drove me back into the ropes. I couldn't take 
anymore as I doubled over gasping for air. Lori took advantage of my 
lowered guard. Even with the headgear, it felt as though I was being 
smacked with a two by four. I went down hard. As I struggled to get 
up, I heard her taunting.

"What's the matter stud? You finish everything this quickly? Maybe I 
should even the odds. If you can get your sorry ass off the canvas, 
I'll fight you using just my left hand."

I finally managed to get to my feet. Lori stuck her chin out at me.

"One free shot stud."

I wasn't at my best, but I still managed to rock Lori nearly off her 
feet with my roundhouse right. It scared me the way she bounced up 
like one of those punching clowns.

"Nice to know I wasn't wrong," Lori said as she rubbed her jaw.

I was back on the defensive as she moved in on me. True to her word, 
she was only hitting me with her left hand. Her jabs were snapping 
my head back. She soon added a split lip to my bloody nose. 
Eventually she maneuvered me back into a corner. I was almost 
helpless at this point. She alternated left jabs to my head with 
lefts to my body. I flailed at her, trying to defend myself, but all 
I was catching was air. It was then that I heard Diane yell from the 
behind the crowd.

"What the hell's going on here! Leave him alone."

Lori stopped and locked gazes with Diane.

Lori replied, "I'm sorry, I didn't know he belonged to you. Here, you 
can have him back. We were just about finished."

With that, Lori backhanded me across the jaw with her left glove, 
sending me spinning to the canvas. She then left the ring on the 
opposite side from where Diane entered to help me up.

An hour later Diane had brought me back to my apartment. We both 
stripped as she helped me into the shower. Ordinarily I would have 
enjoyed this, but tonight I could barely stand as Diane explored my 
tender body with her hands. I groaned painfully a number of times as 
she probed for broken ribs.

I had to take a week off from work as I recovered. Diane visited me 
every night after she finished at the gym. Lori hadn't shown up since 
we had fought. Tonight, Diane told me that Lori had shown up and 
that she had confronted her.

"I called the bitch out," Diane stated.

"You what?!" 

"I saw that bitch working out as if nothing happened. I went over 
and asked her if she wanted to try me. She told me she'd meet me 
anytime, anywhere. If I had the balls."

I knew what the reply would be, but I had to ask anyway.

"You didn't agree, did you?"

"Of course I did, someone needs to teach that bitch a lesson. We've 
got one month to train before the fight. I could really use your help 
in the gym to train me."

I looked hard at her before replying. "I've got to tell you that 
Lori is the toughest, meanest fighter that I've ever met. And you 
had better think long and hard before you go through with this. But 
if you're determined, then I wouldn't want to see you hurt because 
you weren't ready."

For the next month, Diane trained harder than most professional 
boxers. Every day started with two hundred sit-ups, followed by a 
seven mile run. In the evening we trained in the gym. Lifting 
weights, hitting the bags, and sparring became her sole focus. After 
the first two weeks, I couldn't find any more men who were willing 
to get in the ring with her. At night back in my apartment, she 
would strip, fold her arms behind her head, and have me punch her 
body as hard as I could. If she was able to take ten blows without 
folding, I would reward her with an hour of animal sex. The last few 
days before the fight, I slowed her training regimen to build 
up her energy reserves.

Despite her gains, I was still worried about Diane getting hurt. The 
fight would be taking place in the gym after hours. Other than a 
cornerman for each fighter, there would be no witnesses. The night 
of the fight, we showed up to the darkened gym and went to the 
dressing room. Diane stripped, and I applied a thin coat of oil to 
her magnificent body. She slipped into an extra short, tight pair of 
red and white boxing shorts. A sports bra and cutoff T-shirt 
completed her ensemble. I laced up a pair of six ounce gloves on her 
relatively thick wrists. I then helped her warm-up by letting her hit 
my hands. After a few minutes, Diane was ready to go, and I followed 
her to the clubs main ring.

Lori was already there. She was topless, wearing a tight pair of 
black spandex shorts. Her breasts were even better looking uncovered.

"You better keep a leash on your boy there. That's the look that got 
him in trouble in the first place. What's the matter? Doesn't he have 
anything worth playing with at home?"

Never one to back down from a challenge, Diane hooked her gloved 
thumb under her shirt and bra, and ripped her top off. 

"He's got more to play with than you have to offer," Diane said as her 
breasts quivered from their release.

I was pleased to note that the cornerman that Lori had brought with 
her, was now staring at my girl's firm round breasts with their 
small pink nipples. Lori saw this also, and punched him in the gut.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Lori asked, as the poor slob 
choked his guts up.

When both fighters were ready, Lori's man signaled the start of the 
round. We had agreed that he would keep time, and I would count out 
any knockdowns.

The fighters met in the center of the ring. Lori threw the first 
punch. Diane ducked and slammed a hard right into Lori's gut. Lori 
grunted, but didn't hesitate to respond. Diane barely managed to 
catch the blow with her gloves. Lori pressed her advantage, driving 
Diane into the ropes with a flurry of punches. As soon as Diane's 
back touched the ropes, Lori ducked and cut loose with a straight 
right to the solar plexus. Fortunately for Diane, the punch barely 
missed and crashed into her ribs. I winced at the sound of leather 
impacting on my girl's flesh. Diane manage to weather about three 
more shots to the abs before responding. Shooting out a lightning 
left hand, she caught Lori square on the nose and started a trickle 
of blood.

"First blood to me bitch," Diane taunted between her raised gloves.

Lori went berserk, throwing lefts and rights, trying to get through 
Diane's guard. Diane managed to catch virtually all of the blows on 
her gloves and forearms. Lori's cornerman had to yell twice to get 
Lori to back off at the end of the round. Back in our corner, I put 
out a stool for Diane. 

"Jesus, she can hit," Diane noted as she sat down.

"You're Ok, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but I can't take many more punches like that. She's got a bit 
of a temper. If I can piss her off and keep her swinging blindly, 
she might punch herself out."

The second round started much like the first. But when Diane reached 
the center of the ring, she dropped her hands. Lori tried to take 
advantage with a couple of quick jabs. Diane danced back, making her 
miss. Lori darted after her with a big right hand. Ducking under the 
crushing blow, Diane moved to her side. As Lori regained her balance 
and turned to face Diane, she was met by a straight right which 
hammered her in the face. Diane wisely didn't press the attack any 
further. Dancing back, she motioned with her gloves for Lori to 
follow. Lori charged across the ring and started throwing leather. 
Diane again managed to weather the storm until the end of the round.

"She didn't even get in a solid shot this round," said Diane.

"Lori's sweating pretty heavily, but she still looks like she's got 
a lot left," I observed.

"I figure another three rounds, and then she's mine," Diane 
predicted.

I hoped Diane was right. But I had the feeling that it wasn't going 
to be that easy. Diane again started by avoiding Lori's punches on 
the outside. Lori rushed her like a bull. When it looked as if Diane 
was too close to dodge, Lori threw a straight left. Diane ducked, 
and tried to set herself up for the counter. But Lori had pulled her 
punch. When Diane came back up, she was surprised with a roundhouse 
right. Sweat exploded from her hair as her head was snapped around. 
Lori followed up with a left-right combination. Dazed, Diane 
instinctively raised her arms as she was driven against the ropes. 
Lori took advantage of this, and went to work on her body. I could 
see Lori's fists digging into Diane's well trained abs. From 
personal experience, I knew she was in serious trouble. Desperate to 
stop the attack, Diane threw a few blind punches towards Lori's 
head. Lori smothered the third punch with her glove, and stepped in 
with a roundhouse right to Diane's ear. The punch turned her head 
around in my direction. Shock and pain were written on Diane's face. 
Lori stepped back and started impacting Diane's head with a 
series of lefts and rights. Diane finally couldn't take anymore. 
Lori was forced to step to the side as Diane fell forward onto 
her face.

Lori turned to me and said, "Start counting studmuffin."

I numbly started counting. At the count of three, Diane managed to 
push herself up with her arms. Blood was dripping from her face to 
join a red smear on the canvas where she had landed. I continued to 
count as she got to one knee. I was secretly hoping that she 
wouldn't get up. But by the count of eight, she had managed to lurch 
to her feet. Lori charged in from the neutral corner, and started 
pounding on Diane as she huddled in a corner trying to survive the 
round. I was relieved when time was called and Diane staggered back. 
Jumping through the ropes, I bent over her to examine the damage. 
Diane was a mess. She was cut above her left eye, her lip was split, 
and a dark blue mouse was forming under her right eye. I also noticed 
her heaving belly was reddening from repeated blows.

"We've got to stop this. You can't take another round."

I was shocked by Diane's response. Snapping to attention, she 
hooked the back of the neck and pulled my face closer to her's. 
Through bloody teeth, she hissed, "Don't you dare. If you try 
to stop this fight, its over between us."

Without another word, I cleaned up her face as much as I could 
before the start of the next round. I don't think Diane was thinking 
very clearly at this point, because when she went out to meet Lori, 
she started trading punches with her in the center of the ring. Even 
under the best of circumstances, this wouldn't be a good idea, and 
it wasn't now. After about thirty seconds, Diane went down again. 
But this time she got right back up. It was clear to me that 
she was out on her feet. I was expecting Lori to move in and finish 
her off. Instead, she started punishing Diane with her jab. Diane 
couldn't escape as Lori pistoned her hands like a machine. Blood was 
starting to splatter off of Lori's gloves. I was briefly thankful 
when she backed off for a second. But that feeling of relief quickly 
turned to horror when she chose her next target. Shoving Diane in a 
corner, Lori started hitting her breasts and body. Diane tried to 
cover up, but Lori just kept changing her targets. A right to the 
kidneys dropped Diane's arms, and a left crashed painfully into her 
sensitive mammary. I ran over and jumped onto the corner apron to 
stop the slaughter. Without breaking her rhythm, Lori hit me with a 
right hand, knocking me back to the floor. I lay stunned for about 
ten seconds, listening to the dull thuds of body blows followed by 
the slapping sounds of breasts being damaged. The end of the round 
was called, and Lori leaned over the ropes to look down on me.

"You can have her back now stud, if you want her."

I struggled back into the ring and helped Diane back to her corner. 
Her face was now a bloody mask. Her breasts were bruised and 
swollen. Her once tight nipples were puffy and pointed towards the 
floor. Blood and sweat had run off the top of her chest, between her 
breasts, to stain her belly. I sponged her down with cold water and 
tried to stop the bleeding. When the start of the next round was 
announced, I turned to call the fight off, but was again surprised 
when Diane pushed her way past me. If Lori was impressed, she didn't 
show it. Stalking Diane like a cat with a mouse, she deliberately 
maneuvered her into my corner before starting her attack. Diane 
tried to return Lori's punches, but she was too far gone.

I felt sick and cowardly as Diane attempted to stand up to Lori. The 
combatants were now a mere three feet away from me. Lori had Diane 
pinned in the corner with her shoulder and was slamming her fists 
into my girl's vulnerable torso. From my perspective, I could see 
sweat dripping off of the underside of Lori's swinging breasts. Her 
biceps jumping to attention as she sent her leather clad fists 
digging into Diane's stomach with a meaty thuds. I could also see 
the shock waves resonating through Diane's back muscles. Showing no 
mercy, Lori finished her off with the paralyzing blow to the solar 
plexus which she had missed earlier. Diane went down as if she was 
shot. Falling heavily, she lay twitching on the canvas. I 
immediately tried to climb through the ropes, but was stopped by 
Lori's gloved hand on my chest. 

"Count her out stud," Lori said calmly.

I tried to push past her, but she held the leverage advantage. 

Quickly I started my count. "One-Two-Three-Four..."

Again Lori put her fist in my chest. "Start over again, and this time 
do it right."

Trying to restrain myself as I looked at Diane's wrecked body, I 
started to count again - slowly. At the count of ten, Lori backed 
off and allowed me in the ring. Kneeling down next to Diane, I 
gently turned her over and cradled her in my arms. She could barely 
see me through her right eye which was still open a crack.

An agonizing spasm seized her as she tried to talk. After a few 
shallow breaths she managed to whisper to me, "We'll get her next 
time, I promise."

I was suddenly overwhelmed by Diane's strength and courage. I also 
realized at that moment, that I loved her. This revelation, combined 
with the circumstances, caused me to snap. Purposefully, I strode 
across the ring to where Lori was standing in her corner. Lori had 
her back to me. Her gloved hands grasped the top ropes as she talked 
to her cornerman. Without hesitating as I reached her, I slammed a 
fist into her kidneys as hard as I could. Taken totally by surprise, 
Lori arched backwards and screamed in pain. She tried to turn 
around, but I was on her instantly. Bracing my left forearm against 
her broad back, I pinned her in the corner. Using my right arm, I 
continued to hit her in the back with my bare knuckles. Lori yelped 
in pain with each blow as she struggled to escape. After hitting her 
a dozen times, I grabbed her by the right shoulder and spun her 
around to face me. Not hesitating for a second, I nailed her jaw 
with a wicked right cross. Bringing my left into play, I smashed 
Lori's nose flat. Lori's expression was blank as her addled brain 
tried to figure out what was going on. When she finally managed to 
respond with a punch, I ducked and started to punish her belly and 
breasts. My fists worked like pistons as I continued to hit her in a 
red rage. After what seemed like hours, I snapped back out of it. I 
was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Lori's slumped form 
lay before me. Her cornerman stood behind her, a look of shock on 
his face. I noticed that my knuckles were bleeding as I turned and 
walked away. Returning to Diane's side, I saw that she was still 
conscious and had witnessed the assault. I lifted her onto her 
stool, and raised her chin to inspect her battered face. Her blank 
expression suddenly became animated, and she tried to get up. 
Putting my hands on her shoulders, I tried to calm her down.

"Its Ok now Diane. Its all over. We're getting out of here now."

"Leaving so soon stud? Round two's about to start."

Wheeling around, I saw Lori standing in the center of the ring 
behind me. She was bleeding badly from half a dozen cuts on her 
face. Her breasts and body were covered with welts where my fists 
had landed. She shouldn't even be conscious yet, but there she 
stood, gloves raised and ready. The sight scared me.

Spitting blood, she snarled, "The only way you're getting out of 
this ring is through me." 

I fought my fear as I approached her with my fists raised. I would 
do whatever it took to get Diane out of there. I threw two jabs at 
Lori's head which she easily avoided. Shooting her fists out 
faster than I could follow, she snapped my head back. I swung at her 
with a roundhouse right which she easily ducked. Her counterpunch 
caught me in my gut, causing me to double up. Realizing that I 
couldn't box her, I wrapped my arms around her midsection, picked 
her up, and charged the nearest corner with a cry of desperation. 
I heard the air whoosh out of her body as my shoulder drove into her 
midsection. It was my turn to yelp, as Lori's hard elbow impacted on 
my spine. After three more blows, I had to relax my grip. Lori 
immediately took advantage of this by driving her knee into my 
chest. Wrapping her strong arms around my waist, she screamed with 
effort as she straightened up, flipping me upside-down. I thought I 
had broken my neck when she dropped me in the center of the ring. 
Instinctively, I tried to crawl away. But Lori's booted foot caught 
me painfully in the ribs, sending me rolling towards Diane. Lori 
grabbed me under the armpits and yanked me to my feet. Diane 
couldn't do anything to help me as Lori held me in front of her. 
Shoving me against the ropes, about five feet to the right of where 
Diane was slumped, she forced my arms over the top rope so 
that I couldn't move. Taking a step back, she ripped a quick 
left-right combination into my lower abs. Before I could flop off 
the rope, she quickly locked an iron grip on my throat with her left 
hand. Lori glanced over at Diane, and back at me.

Addressing Diane, she said, "You make a cute couple. I hope you 
weren't planning on having children."

She let the full impact of her statement sink in for a second. When 
it did, I went berserk. I flailed against the ropes for a few seconds 
as she continued to pin me like a bug. Lori slowly drew back her 
right fist, leaving no doubt of her intended target. Diane lurched 
off the stool and tried to gain her feet as Lori unleashed the 
crippling blow. I watched as her lightly padded fist shot between my 
legs. I heard a high pitched wail, and realized it was coming from 
me. Twice more, she drew her fist back and nailed my balls. Satisfied 
with her handiwork, she released me. I pitched forward to the canvas.
Curling up in a fetal position, I started to puke.

As Lori exited the ring, I heard her call back, "Its been fun. Lets 
do it again sometime. I'll call the hospital for you on the way out."

I was released from the hospital a week after Diane. We told them 
that we had been ambushed in the gym by a street gang. Based on our 
condition, it wasn't hard to believe. The doctors told me that if I 
hadn't been wearing a cup, I probably would be sterile. Thank God I 
didn't feel comfortable going anywhere near Lori without one. Lori 
never returned to the gym after that day.

A year later, Diane and I got engaged. We still train together every 
day. Diane is obsessed with getting bigger, stronger, and becoming 
a better boxer. We never talk about it, but I am suspicious that she 
secretly wants another shot at Lori. And that's where Diane's true 
strength rests, not in her muscles, but in her spirit. And that's a 
strength which will never be beaten out of her. 




                          THE PRIZEFIGHT V
                          FALLEN CHAMPION
                          ----------------


The first time Sharon Moore boxed was when she was twelve. Her 
father, a former golden gloves champion, was training her three 
older brothers to box in their small basement ring. Sharon used to 
play with the gloves and bags, but was never invited to participate. 
One day, Sharon got into an argument with her youngest brother Jack. 
Jack challenged her to step into the ring with him. Even though he 
was two years older and three inches taller, she gamely followed 
him in. They fought as only brother and sister can. In the end, Jack 
put Sharon down on her ass with a bloody nose. When her father found 
out what happened, he took Sharon aside and offered to train her. He 
was getting frustrated trying to get her brothers to listen to him, 
and wanted to teach them a lesson. Sharon leapt at the chance.

Every day for months, he worked with her in secret. She learned the 
basics of the sport from a man who knew and loved it. Unlike her 
brothers, she proved to be an attentive pupil. When her father 
determined she was ready, he told her to challenge her brothers. At 
first, her brothers didn't take her seriously. But after a few days 
of nagging, they decided that Jack would fight her again, just to 
shut her up. Her two older brothers were amazed as Sharon knocked 
him down three times. She then proceeded to beat her next older 
brother, and fight her oldest brother to a draw. At the end of 
fight, their father came down the basement steps where he had been 
quietly sitting. He berated her brothers, and held her up as an 
example of what a motivated fighter could accomplish. After that 
day, she was allowed to train alongside her brothers. It became 
harder and harder to beat them as they started to train seriously, 
but she still won her share of bouts. 

After leaving home and going to college, she continued to train in a 
boxing gym. If she had been allowed, she would have turned pro. When 
a promoter for the underground fighting circuit approached her about 
picking up some quick cash, she took him up on it. The promoter had 
hired her as a novelty. A way to keep the sports wealthy patrons 
amused. But they soon learned to take her seriously, as she compiled 
an undefeated record. In a particularly notorious fight, she lost to 
the Chicago champion, and was badly beaten in the process. It was 
later discovered that Sharon had been drugged by the unscrupulous 
promoter, who later turned up dead in an alley with the champ. Her 
record was corrected, and she was invited to fight on the national 
circuit.

The national circuit differed from the local circuits in a number of 
ways. The most obvious, was the amount of money involved. A good 
night on the local circuits might involve a few hundred thousand. In 
the nationals, it was not uncommon for millions to be wagered on a 
single fight. The money also attracted better fighters. Every 
fighter on the national circuit was carefully selected by a 
mysterious body known as "The Board". The Board also maintained a 
number of semi permanent locations around the country where fighters 
could train and fight. They arranged all of the matches and 
controlled the wagering. It was the Board that invited Sharon.

The Board didn't rely strictly on the local circuits to provide 
talent. It sometimes raided the ranks of legitimate fighters. If a 
well known professional ran into any trouble with his sanctioning 
body, he was likely to be approached by the Board. This was how the 
Board obtained Matt Dyson.

Matt Dyson had been the heavyweight champion of the world. He had 
unified the title in all three professional boxing associations. At 
the age of twenty three, he was also one of the youngest champions 
ever. But he was also out of control. One fateful day, he was 
accused of raping a famous actress in the back of his limo. It 
wasn't the first such incident. But this time, neither his slick 
talking manager or his money could keep him out of trouble. He 
served two years in a state penitentiary. When he got out, he was 
approached by the Board.

Dyson didn't join for the money. He had plenty. Dyson joined because 
he liked to hurt people. And as an added bonus, the Board could also 
help him satisfy his carnal appetites without fear of retribution. To 
the outside world, Dyson was a recluse who never left his large 
desert ranch outside of Las Vegas. To the patrons of the underground 
circuit, he was their new national champion.

Sharon had also made a name for herself on the national circuit. 
At first she was considered a freak. But as she continued to fight 
and win, she developed a large and growing following who demanded 
that she receive a title shot. After a little more than a year on 
the circuit, she was flown to Vegas to fight Dyson.

Sharon was allowed to train for the fight in the same facility Dyson 
and the other Vegas based fighters used. Sharon observed Dyson first 
hand as he went through five sparring partners within twenty 
minutes. Dyson was a heavily muscled black man. He was only five 
feet eleven inches tall, short for a heavyweight. But he had made 
his reputation by bringing bigger opponents down to his level with 
crushing body blows. This was even more impressive, considering that 
he did it wearing regulation boxing gloves. After sending his last 
partner crashing to the canvas, he turned to where Sharon was 
watching.

"Hey bitch, I just wanted you to know that I'll take it easy on you. 
A first round knockout. And if I like what I see, I'll give you a 
special bonus," Dyson said as he grabbed his crotch.

What a sweetheart, Sharon thought, as she stalked away disgusted by 
his display. Getting back to her training, she cranked out another 
hundred inclined crunches. Unlike Dyson, Sharon was taking this 
fight seriously. She had never forgotten the lesson that her father 
had taught her. Even before the match was official, she had been 
training to face Dyson. She had paid special attention to his 
favorite target, the body. Every day she would get up and do two 
hundred sit-ups. Every other day, she did a hundred crunches while 
clutching a fifty pound plate to her chest. She also trained to 
strengthen and thicken the thin wall of muscle on her sides. She 
didn't ignore her lower back either. Circuit rules allowed fighters 
to hit from behind. Once a month, she tested herself by allowing her 
sparring partners to hit her flexed and unflexed abs. After four 
months, they had to use a roll of half dollars clenched in their 
fists to hurt her. She had also been working on her upper body 
strength. Using the advanced training equipment which the Board made 
available to her, she increased her punching power thirty 
percent. No woman in the world had ever had a chance to face a 
heavyweight champion before, and she didn't intend to waste the 
opportunity.

The night of the fight, electricity filled the air. The fight would 
be broadcast all over the country on a private satellite channel. 
Wagers were reported to be into the tens of millions, with the odds 
running three to one against Sharon. Back in her dressing room, 
Sharon started her final preparations. An expert attendant tightly 
wrapped her fists and wrists with a special white cloth tape. He 
then applied a thin coating of oil to Sharon's naked upper body. 
He was careful not to display any emotion or disrespect as he 
worked. Sharon smiled as she saw him fight a losing battle with the 
bulge in his pants. He was kind of cute. Perhaps she would take him 
out later for a post fight celebration.

Fight time arrived at last. As Sharon waited to be announced, she 
scanned the interior of the small arena. A well lit ring sat in the 
center of the room. It was similar to a boxing ring, except that it 
had six sides. A brand new canvas had been installed for tonight's 
fight. The small crowd of well dressed men and women murmured 
expectantly as they waited for the fighters to appear. Despite the 
ten thousand dollar ticket price, the small arena was filled to 
capacity.

Rules on the national circuit were slightly different from the 
locals. The fight resembled a traditional boxing match with three 
minute rounds and a one minute break. A fighter would be declared 
out with a twenty count. A fighter could not be saved by the bell. 
It was not an official rule, but there were serious consequences for 
any fighter who deliberately stayed down to avoid a beating.

The announcer climbed into the center of the ring and began to read 
off a card.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight the Board is proud to present a very 
special event. Two opponents will fight to decide the only true 
world boxing championship."

As the challenger, Sharon was called first.

"Introducing the challenger, at five feet eleven inches and one 
hundred and seventy two pounds, undefeated with a record of fourteen 
wins, no losses, Sharon Moore."

The crowd went berserk as Sharon walked to the ring waving to the 
crowd. After she climbed through the ropes, the announcer continued.

"And introducing the former world's heavyweight boxing champion, and 
current circuit champion, standing five feet eleven inches tall and 
weighting two hundred and twenty nine pounds, with an undefeated 
record of twenty one wins, no losses, Matt 'Bone Crusher' Dyson."

Matt frowned as he walked towards the ring. That fucking bitch had 
gotten a more enthusiastic response from the crowd. What the fuck's 
the matter with them? Don't they know that they have the privilege 
of seeing Matt Dyson, the most dangerous man in the world.

The crowd gave Sharon a second ovation as she shed her silk robe to 
reveal her magnificently conditioned body. Her upper body would 
place in a Miss Olympia competition. She had broad shoulders, well 
developed arms with sixteen and a half inch biceps, and a relatively 
thin washboard waist. Her breasts had shrunk and flattened slightly 
from her training regimen, but would still fill a C-cup nicely. Her
dark nipples were erect with excitement. She was wearing a tight pair 
of red silk short shorts which revealed the feminine curves of her 
hips and buttocks. Sharon's legs were well developed, but not 
proportionate to her upper body. She had the face of a model 
with black hair and blue-gray eyes. But if you looked close you 
would notice a few scars, and a nose that had been broken and 
straightened a few times. If anything, these minor imperfections 
lent her face character, and made her even more beautiful.

Matt was getting even angrier as the crowd continued to focus its 
attention on Sharon. Hadn't they ever seen tits before? Well they 
wouldn't be watching her much longer, unless they cared to visit her 
at the hospital. Maybe he would visit her himself. But he wouldn't 
be bringing her flowers. He'd be thrusting nine inches of Jersey 
black snake into every orifice that wasn't connected to a tube.

The timekeeper rang the bell to begin the first round. Dyson charged 
out of his corner. Sharon waited until he was almost on top of her 
before she ducked his first punch. Turning quickly, she shot a left 
between his massive lat muscles into his unprotected spine. 
Immediately dancing back on the balls of her feet, she avoided 
getting backhanded by his massive arm. Dyson was only off 
balance for a second, but it was long enough for Sharon to dart in 
and connect with a hard left jab. Set again, Dyson started to 
advance on Sharon with lefts and rights. Sharon easily slipped each 
punch with her superior speed, and again managed to duck under his 
arm as they reached the opposite side of the ring. In his rage, 
Dyson didn't manage to lay a glove on her the rest of the round. 
Even after the bell sounded, Sharon had to dodge Matt's wild swings 
for another ten seconds, before he reluctantly gave up. The crowd was 
cheering with delight at Sharon's display of skill and agility.

Matt seethed in his corner. He had managed to calm down a little 
bit. The bitch had made him look stupid, and now she was going to 
pay. No quick knockouts, he was going to hurt her bad.

Sharon was pleased with her first round. She had managed to make him 
look like an amateur. But she didn't dare get overconfident. Dyson 
had a lot more boxing skill than most people gave him credit for. 

The second round started off slow. Dyson was stalking Sharon now, 
looking for an opportunity. Sharon was content to give ground, 
making sure that she didn't get trapped in the corners. Since their 
reach was nearly equal, Sharon was able to use her speed to score 
with several jabs.  In the last minute of the round, Sharon made her 
first mistake. She was caught be surprise when Dyson made a quick 
inside move at the same time she chose to throw another jab. Alarm 
bells went off in her head as she realized her position. She flexed her 
rock hard abs in anticipation of Dyson's punch. Dyson twisted 
his whole body in the effort, his biceps exploding like cannonballs 
as he delivered a right, and then a left. Both punches caught Sharon 
directly in the middle of her stomach. Traveling upwards at a 
thirty degree angle, the force of the blows actually lifted her off 
her feet. Recovering quickly, Sharon backpedaled a couple of steps, 
and finished the rest of the round evading her male opponent.

Despite the lack of action, the crowd was still pleased. Sharon had 
managed to take a pair of bodyshots that had sent many top ranked 
pro's down for the count. Back in her corner, Sharon wasn't 
pleased. Dyson deserved his reputation. If he hadn't hit her in the 
strongest region of her torso, she would probably be in serious 
trouble. For the first time in her life, Sharon felt some doubt.

Dyson wasn't happy either. The fight was going a lot longer than he 
had predicted. And even worse, she had managed to take two of his 
best punches without flinching. Next round he had to get serious.

Round three started out well for Sharon. Moving in to exchange jabs, 
she set him up for a big right hand. The champ was staggered for a 
second. Sharon followed up with a straight left to the eye which 
snapped his head back on his thickly muscled neck. Putting 
everything she had into a roundhouse right, she caught Dyson 
perfectly on the chin. Dyson's head twisted to one side, and he 
dropped to one knee. He managed to get back to his feet before the 
count started, but it didn't alter the facts. For the first time 
since he joined the circuit, Dyson had been put down. The crowd 
realized the significance of this and was cheering wildly. Sharon 
quickly moved in to finish Dyson off. But she overestimated the 
amount of damage she had done. When she got in range, Matt unleashed 
a powerful left that caught her coming in. He charged her again 
throwing rights and lefts as he had in the first round, but this 
time he was connecting. Sharon was driven into a corner. It was 
the last place she wanted to be. She desperately tried to dart by 
Dyson, but he just reached out with a big left arm and tossed her 
backwards like a rag doll. Pressing the top of his head right above 
her breasts, he went to work. Sharon tried to resist as she had 
earlier, but his powerful blows were now crashing into the sides of 
her body. Dyson hit her three times after the bell sounded. And then 
with an act of rudeness that shocked the crowd, he grabbed her tits 
with his taped hands and laughed at her.

"Now we're having a good time bitch. But we'll have an even better 
time later."

Releasing her, he allowed Sharon to stumble back to her corner. She 
was bleeding from a few minor cuts, but she was really concerned 
with internal damage. At the very least he had cracked a few of her 
ribs. And based on his comments, she now realized she was in danger 
of losing more than just this fight. Dyson was worth a lot to the 
Board. If he decided to follow through on his threats, nobody would 
try to stop him.

Sharon was in trouble from the start of the fourth round. The damage 
Dyson had done was slowing her down, taking away one of her biggest 
advantages. Consequently, she was forced to trade shots with him. 
This wasn't a good strategy, considering Dyson's strength advantage. He 
was relentless. Sharon tried to hold him off, but he just kept his 
head down and ignored her blows. Right at the end of the round, 
Dyson trapped her again. After taking half a dozen bodyshots, Sharon 
went down. The crowd urged her to get up as the count started. 
Drawing on a lifetime of discipline, she ignored the agonizing pain, 
and managed to get up at the count of fifteen. The crowd gained even 
more respect for her as she made her way back to her corner 
unassisted. 

Back in her corner, Sharon noticed the worried look on her cute 
attendants face. She addressed him, as he worked to sponge the blood 
off of her face and chest.

Attempting a smile, she said, "Don't worry, it's just a scratch." 

Talking to her for the first time, he said, "Listen, it's not my 
place to say this, but you aren't doing very well out there."

"I'd be doing better, but even circuit rules don't allow nuclear 
weapons in the ring," Sharon replied in an annoyed tone.

"Please don't get me wrong. You've lasted longer than almost any 
fighter against Dyson. Since he joined the circuit, he only trains 
for strength, not for stamina. I've been watching him. He's 
breathing heavily at the end of the breaks. Even when he was a pro, 
he wasn't known for going the distance. I think if you can keep him 
going for another round or two, he's going to run out of steam."

Sharon regarded him for a moment. It made sense, and he was in a 
position to know.

"Thanks for the advice, I'll keep it in mind."

As the bell sounded for the fifth round, she heard him say, "Please 
be careful out there."

Ordinarily a comment like that would have pissed her off. Now she 
was strangely touched by his concern.

With his advice in mind, Sharon allowed Dyson to come to her. He had 
a smile on his face and looked confident, but he was also breathing 
hard and sweating like a pig. Dyson didn't even try to defend 
himself when she used her jab to slow him up. Calling on her 
vast knowledge of the sport, Sharon flicked out another jab. But 
this time she used her fingers to poke him in the eye. She wouldn't 
ordinarily use a move like that, but she now suspected that she was 
fighting for her life. Tyson yelped in pain, and instinctively 
brought his hand up to his face. Taking advantage of the opening, 
she attacked his kidneys and spleen. Dyson howled in frustration as 
he blindly backhanded her. Sharon was knocked backwards into the 
ropes. Dyson quickly charged in to do a little more damage to her 
bruised torso. But as he reached her, she lowered her forehead and 
butted him in the face. Dyson was stopped dead in his tracks as his 
head snapped backwards. Sharon quickly moved back to the center of 
the ring. Dyson lost his composure again. His nose was broken and 
fountaining blood. Bellowing like an ox, he charged her again. 
Sidestepping his rush, Sharon tripped him. Dyson went down hard. Even 
though her tactics were illegal, the crowd still appreciated them. 
They had seen Dyson do the same and worse. It amazed them that a 
young woman had such a knowledge of dirty tricks. After he got up, 
Sharon ran Matt around the ring until the bell sounded. Three 
attendants had to jump into the ring and wrestle Dyson back to his 
corner. He shouted at Sharon as he was dragged away.

"You fucking bitch. You trying to make a fool out of me. I'm going 
to fuck you up, and then I'm going to fuck you up. You hear me. 
You're dead. Fuckin' dead."

Sharon showed him her back as she returned to her corner. 

"I've never seen anyone handle Dyson like that. It was great."

"Just using a couple of things my father taught me to watch out
for when I was a kid," Sharon replied, not quite sure why she 
allowed him a glimpse at her personal side. 

Dyson was moving slower at the start of the sixth round. He had been 
to upset to even sit down during the break, and now he was openly 
gasping through his mouth. Sharon on the other hand was just getting 
her second wind. Her finely conditioned body responding to the brief 
intermission. Trying to keep Dyson from thinking clearly, she 
started to taunt him.

"What's the matter big man, having trouble keeping it up? Come on 
asshole, I'm waiting for you. But then I'll bet you keep all of your 
girlfriends waiting."

Dyson wasn't quiet sure what the hell she was talking about, but he 
knew she was making fun of his manhood. He tried to get at her, 
but she again put on a display of boxing skill to avoid his angry 
punches. After another minute, the champ finally ran out of steam. 
He stood in the center of ring gasping, holding his arms tiredly 
around his waist. It was now Sharon's turn to attack. Still 
dancing on the balls of her feet, she used her jab to torment him. 
Aiming for the thin skin around his eyes, she opened up a number of 
cuts. Matt tried to respond, but it was all he could do to try to 
use his arms to hide from her probing jabs.

At the end of the round, Dyson could barely make it back to his 
corner. Dropping heavily on his stool, he tried in vain to call upon 
energy reserves which had disappeared years ago. He just couldn't 
understand what was happening. Sharon was a girl. He might have even 
considered her to be a hot looking babe, if he had picked her up in 
a club someplace. In Matt's universe, girls were weak and 
stupid. Receptacles for his pleasure, to be used, abused, and 
discarded. And now he was getting his ass kicked by a girl. She had 
suffered his full fury, and had survived. He was Matt Dyson, the 
most dangerous man in the world. What the fuck was going on?

Sharon decided to stand in her corner and look down on Dyson. Her 
attendant was clearly happy with the turn of events.

"He's finished, you could beat him now by rolling him off that
stool," he said as he squirted water in her mouth.

After spitting, she replied coolly, "He's not getting off that
easily."

Dyson had recovered enough at the start of round seven to throw a 
few punches. Sharon stood her ground, and let him hit her. Even 
though his punches lacked power, they still landed painfully on her 
battered flesh. After letting him have a dozen shots, she decided 
that it was her turn. Catching his big right fist in her left hand 
with a meaty slap, she shoved him towards a corner. A couple of jabs 
to the face knocked him back the rest of the way. Crouching low, she 
showed the crowd that Dyson wasn't the only fighter with biceps. Her 
arms exploded as she dug her fists into his thick stomach muscles. 
After taking five punches, he tried to wrap his tree trunk arms 
around her neck and use his weight to push his way out, but Sharon 
wouldn't budge. Setting herself, she sent another three punches 
splintering some ribs. Two more punches to his side, and four more 
to his aching gut finished him. The crowd was quiet for a second as 
she released him, and then exploded with applause as Dyson landed on 
the canvas like a side of beef. 

Dyson was dragged out of the ring and Sharon was given the 
championship belt. After posing for the crowd a few minutes, she 
took a shower and visited a Board doctor to get her various cuts 
bandaged and her ribs taped. When she was finished, she found her 
attendant waiting for her in the nearly empty arena.

"I just wanted to hang around and make sure you were Ok."

Sharon thought he sounded sincere. "Just the usual cuts and bruises 
with a rack of cracked ribs. Tomorrow, I'll visit a hospital to make 
sure there aren't any internal injuries. I've been through worse, 
and lived to make someone regret it. But thanks for hanging around to 
check, what's your name?"

"My name's Rob, Rob Bolan. I'm really glad to hear you're Ok. The 
Board doesn't publicize it, but a few of Dyson's opponents died 
after being carted back here."

"I think Dyson is worrying about himself right now."

"I hope so, it's about time someone taught that neanderthal a boxing 
lesson. I just hope he quits the circuit."

"Listen Bob, I won't be up for it for a few days, but would you care 
to go out on the strip with me when I'm feeling better?" Sharon 
asked.

Bob's face lit up with a smile, "Gee Sharon, I'd love to."

"It's a date then. I'll give you a call at the gym."

"I'll be waiting. May I walk you to your car? This neighborhood can be 
dangerous after dark."

What a stupid remark Sharon thought. She had just defeated the most 
dangerous man in the world, and this guy was worried about her 
crossing a parking lot. She might have been tempted to slap some 
sense into anyone else. But Rob was different. Unlike most of the 
lowlifes she had met lately, he seemed nice. He reminded her a bit 
of her father.

"Sure, lets go," Sharon said hooking her arm so he could escort her 
out. 


Rob couldn't believe his luck. He had worshipped Sharon ever since 
she had showed up on the circuit. But he had heard she was an ice 
queen. But now, here she was allowing him the privilege of touching 
her rock hard bicep. And even better, she had asked him out. As he 
snuck glances at her battered, but beautiful face, he noticed a 
shadow detach itself from behind a car.

"Sharon, watch out!" He cried as he shoved her out of the way of the 
baseball bat which had been descending towards the back of her 
skull. The killing blow caught him on the shoulder, breaking 
his collarbone. Rob went down to the pavement, clutching his 
injury as Sharon regained her balance and wheeled to face her 
attacker.

"Matt Dyson. You couldn't take me in the ring man to woman, so you 
try taking me out with a baseball bat. At least you're exhibiting a 
better grasp of reality now."

Dyson was standing about ten feet away holding the bat. He was 
wearing a pair of slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. Sharon felt some 
satisfaction seeing that he was wearing even more tape and bandages 
than she was. 

"You fucking bitch. Because of you, I'm never going to be able to 
show my face around here again. But you aren't going to be around 
either. I'm going to fuck you up. Then I'm going to take you and 
bend you over the hood of one of these cars and stick my dick up 
your ass. Then I'll probably do the same to pretty boy here. Haven't 
had anything like him since prison. Then I'm going to take you both 
for a little trip to my ranch. Come on bitch, give up and I'll do 
you quickly."

Sharon raised her hand and started ticking off points with her 
fingers. "There are three problems with your plan. First, you missed 
your only chance. Second, I think you would probably have problems 
sticking your dick in a soggy doughnut. And third, you've really 
pissed me off now."

Dyson charged her with a bellow of rage. Sharon ducked under the 
whistling bat and caught him in the midsection with her shoulder. 
Straightening up, she flipped him over her back onto the hood of a 
car. Dyson crashed down causing a massive dent. Twisting the bat out 
of his hands, she flung it into the dark.

"Get up Dyson, its go time."

Sharon was ready for him as he rolled off the car. Three hard rights 
hammered his face. He attempted to swing at her, but Sharon ducked 
and brought her right smashing into his ribs. Dyson's eyes bugged as 
his broken ribs shifted.

"Hurts, does it?" Sharon asked as she used every ounce of her 
strength to drive her fist into the injured area again and again.

After the first three blows, Dyson was hanging on to Sharon's 
shoulder just to stay up. Sharon felt his ribs breaking under her 
bare knuckles. Her last punch broke through his ribcage allowing her 
fist to sink an inch into his chest. Sharon stepped back. Dyson 
teetered for a second. She could see blood seeping though the tape 
were she had been hitting him. With a sick gurgling sound, he fell 
to his knees, and then collapsed to the concrete.

Sharon helped Rob up by his good arm.

"I think he's dead," Rob observed.

"That was a gutsy thing you did for me, taking Dyson's hit. You 
saved my life."

"I'd do it again in a second. You're worth it Sharon."

For the first time in her life, Sharon was at a loss for words. 
After hesitating a minute, she asked, "You still want to go out with 
me?"

Rob didn't hesitate. "More than ever. Don't worry about this Sharon, 
the Board will take care of it."

"I don't think I'm going to worry about anything ever again," she 
replied as she helped Rob into her car.



THE PRIZEFIGHT VI: THE ULTIMATE PRIZE
                -------------------------------------

Authors note: To increase your enjoyment of this story, please check 
out BBW103.gif and BUSTFLEX.gif before you start. Then see LAFEM005.gif
at the end.


It was past one o'clock in the morning on a Monday night at the gym. 
All of the gym members were given their own key so that they could 
come in anytime they wanted. This worked out very well for me. I had 
recently been transferred to second shift down at the plant where I 
worked as a programmer, and I found that this was an ideal time to 
workout. I also appreciated the fact that I usually had the gym to 
myself that time of night. The only drawback was that there weren't 
any hard bodied females to check out. That situation was about to 
change.

I was warming up on a stationary bike when the door opened. I was 
surprised to see two drop dead gorgeous girls enter the gym. I 
recognized the bartender's uniforms that they were wearing from a 
local club. The tight fitting white blouse and black slacks did 
nothing to hide their feminine curves. The first girl was a beautiful 
brunette, about five foot seven, and in her early twenties. The 
second girl was short and thin, about five two, with chestnut brown 
hair. She was older than the first girl, probably in her late 
twenties or early thirties. They spotted me as they walked towards the 
women's locker room, and the brunette gave me a little wave which I 
returned. She then whispered something to the older girl which caused 
her to smile and giggle. God they were cute. 

I wasn't a bad looking guy. I'm thirty years old, five eleven, two 
hundred and twenty pounds, mostly muscle. I've got a bit of a gut
from too many fast food lunches which I was busy trying to work off, 
but otherwise I had a good body. So when this sexy pair of women 
came in and took note of me, I thought I had at least a chance in 
hell.

When the girls came out of the locker room a few minutes later, I 
nearly fell off my seat. They were both wearing skimpy two piece 
workout outfits which were very close to being bikinis. The larger 
girl was wearing purple and the smaller girl was in gold. Even 
without the outfits, it would have been obvious that they were 
serious bodybuilders. Using a towel, they began to warm-up with some 
two man stretching exercises on the mat in the center of the gym.

I waited a minute, then hopped off of the bike and casually strolled 
over to a step climber next to the mat. I now had an excellent view 
of the proceedings. They were sitting on the mat facing each other 
with their shoes touching. Grasping the towel, they were warming up 
their back muscles by engaging in what looked like a mini tug-o-war. 
The young brunette had big muscles without looking massive or bulky. 
Her biceps, triceps, and delts bulged as she kept tension in the 
towel. Her waist was thick with slabs of muscle, but combined with 
her broad shoulders and curvaceous hips, she still maintained an 
hourglass shape. Her large quads bulged as she bent forward. 
Her breasts were small from strict dieting. But what she had was 
proudly mounted on top of a pair of nicely rounded pects, giving her 
a muscular, but feminine cleavage. Small hard nipples managed to 
make themselves visible through her tight spandex top. I figured 
that she weighed about one hundred fifty five pounds. Despite the 
display of fantastic feminine muscle, I found myself entranced by 
her face. She had the innocent beauty of a farmer's daughter, with 
full lips, a perfect nose, and hazel eyes that a man could get lost 
in. 

They stood up and started to warm up their biceps. The larger girl's 
partner looked almost petite beside her. At first glance, she 
appeared thin, but that was deceptive. Her arms weren't nearly as 
large, but her biceps were peaking damn near as tall as the 
brunette's. Her waist was extremely thin and rippled with tiny 
washboard abs. Her quads were also thin, but solid muscle. Her 
breasts stood out in contrast to the hard cut of her body. She had a 
pair of C-cups which looked huge on her thin frame. Her large nipples 
looked ready to burst out of her strained top. It was obvious that 
they weren't real, but who cared.

After they warmed up, they hit the weights. I was amazed at some of 
the poundage's they were lifting. I saw the larger girl come close to 
my best bench press with a two hundred and fifty pound lift. And the 
smaller girl was arm curling thirty pounds. That might not sound like 
much, but considering that she couldn't have weighed more than one 
hundred and ten, it was an impressive display. Even though I could 
probably lift more, pound for pound they would blow me away. 

After a brisk half hour workout, they both left for the room where 
the gym maintained a small boxing ring. I worked out with free 
weights for a few more minutes, and then my curiosity got the better 
of me. Poking my head in the door, I was mesmerized by the sight of 
the larger girl wearing boxing gloves and working out on the heavy 
bag. She had the eighty pound bag jumping as her fists landed with 
solid sounding thumps. Her girlfriend was working out on the 
speedbag. Her fists were a blur, and the impacts sounded like a 
machine gun. They both stopped as soon as they saw me looking.

The smaller girl addressed me first. "Enjoying the show? Perhaps 
you'd like to help us with our workout?"

I felt slightly embarrassed at being caught staring, but recovered 
quickly. "Sure, anything you lovely ladies need, I'd be happy to 
help you out with," I said, trying to be charming.

"You should be careful when making those kinds of offers to 
strangers," the larger girl responded with a smile. "What's your 
name?" 

"My names Mark. And I meant it. I'd be honored to help you out."

"Well my name's Laura, and she's Meryl. We were just about to do a 
bit of wrestling, but it gets boring practicing with each other all 
the time. How would you like to take your shirt off and try us?"

Here I was looking at two of the most awesome females I had ever 
seen. They were buff and sweating, and had just invited me to put my 
hands all over them. I wanted to fall to my knees, throw my hands in 
the air and yell, "Thank you God!"

Instead, I answered, "I'd love to. But I've got to warn you, I have 
no idea what I'm doing."

"Don't worry about it. Just do your best to pin us. We'll take turns 
with you. First three falls wins."

I tried to look calm as I took off my sweaty tank top. The girls 
looked pleased with what they saw, whispering back and forth, and 
flashing me little smiles. Laura entered the ring with me first. We 
shook hands and started to circle each other. Faster than I could 
respond, Laura leapt for the floor, grabbed my feet, and yanked them 
out from under me. She immediately wrapped a large arm around the 
back of my thigh, drove my knee into my chest, and pinned me firmly.

Meryl slapped out a count, "One... two... three..."

Laura released me, and we got back to our feet. She exchanged a loud 
slapping high-five with Meryl. "Laura and Meryl one fall, Mark zero."

Squaring off with Meryl, I tried to make the first move. I thought I 
might grab her with a quick lunge, and then use my weight advantage 
to take her down. But she easily avoided me, and sent me tripping 
over a tiny Reebok onto my face. As I tried to get up, she jumped on 
me with her full one hundred and ten pounds. I could feel her 
breasts flatten themselves against my back as she smashed my face on 
the canvas. Grabbing me under the armpit, she tried to flip me over. 
I frustrated her efforts with my outstretched arm. Seeing that I was 
too heavy to move, she got up on all fours and scuttled backwards. I 
tried to get up again, but this time she grabbed my feet and drove 
them towards my back with her shoulders. I tried to kick her off, 
but she was planted solidly. Twisting with her whole body, she 
flipped me onto my back. She quickly resumed the hold, arms around 
my thighs, head between my legs, shoulders driving my knees into my 
chest. I watched her face twist in effort as she resisted the 
strength in my legs. From my perspective, I could see drops of sweat 
forming in her cleavage and running down her breasts, inches from my 
uncomfortably tight jock. Laura's three count brought me back to 
reality.

They did another high-five and traded places. Meryl took her 
position as referee and announced, "Meryl and Laura two falls, Mark 
zero. Come on Mark, you're disappointing Laura. She had great 
expectations for you."

Laura shot Meryl a playful look, "Meryl, Shut up. Just start the 
match."

Meryl signaled for us to begin. I had the feeling that if I lost 
three in a row, they would leave and I would never see them again. 
And that would crush me. These amazons were the sexiest pair of
women I had ever seen. And the thought of disappointing Laura was 
tearing my heart out. Her hazel eyes and flashing white smile had me 
mesmerized. It was love at first sight. I had a secret weapon, and it 
was time to use it. I hadn't wrestled since high school gym class, 
but I had been taking judo lessons for the last couple of years,
and had nearly earned my black belt. So when Laura moved in, I 
raised my hands to challenge her to a test of strength. Her eyes lit 
up with glee, and she flashed me that smile. Raising her hands, she 
prepared to engage me. But instead of locking up with her, I 
grabbed her arm and executed a classic judo flip. Laura landed on 
her back with a loud whoosh as the air was knocked out of her. 
Wasting no time, I grabbed her legs and used the pin that Meryl had 
used on me. Laura tried to use her strong quads to kick me off, but 
my leverage advantage was too much for her. I was happy to note 
that Meryl didn't slow the count for her partner.

Releasing Laura, it was my turn to announce, "Mark one fall, Laura 
and Meryl two."

Laura looked me over as she spoke to Meryl, "Watch out. He's a 
tricky little devil. He might just make it."

As Meryl started to circle me, she replied, "Not if I can help it."

I let Meryl circle. I would force her to make the first move, so she 
couldn't use my momentum against me as she had before. She suddenly 
lunged for a single leg takedown. I used my years of judo training 
to keep my feet, and then I dropped on her back with my full two 
hundred plus pounds. She squirmed like an eel as I wrapped an arm 
around her waist. She was slick with sweat, but she couldn't escape. 
She tried to squeeze out of my grip, but couldn't force her hips 
through. Rolling, I flipped us both over and sat up. Meryl's 
head was now on the canvas between my legs. Leaning over, I slid her 
head forward trying to get her shoulder blades to touch the mat. She 
resisted me every inch of the way with her slender neck muscles. 
Laura had gotten down on all fours with her head on the mat to 
look for a pin. As soon as Meryl's shoulders touched, she started 
the count. 

"One... two..."

Meryl surged with her neck and arms. She was in an impossible 
position, but she still managed to raise her shoulders a fraction of 
an inch above the mat. Laura's hand froze above the canvas on the 
count of three. Meryl had no chance, but she continued to fight. 
Laura didn't blink as she watched the struggle. The only sounds in 
the room were my grunts as I pushed, and Meryl's low cries as she 
resisted. After about ten seconds, her muscles gave out, and she 
collapsed. Laura administered the three count and then helped her 
partner up.

"I think he made it," Laura said to Meryl. "Scores tied, two all."

I was pleased with how things were going. By beating both of them, I 
had advanced to a higher level in the larger game. I offered to lock 
up with Laura again in a test of strength, but she just wagged her 
finger at me. Moving in and grabbing her upper arm, I turned and 
tried a hip toss. Laura started to go over, but then she snaked her 
free arm around my waist, stopping me dead. Sliding her other arm 
from my grasp, she applied a bear hug from behind, and lifted me off 
my feet. Her muscles contracted around my stomach like a python. I 
tried to break her grip by shoving down on her forearms, but it was 
futile. Flexing her thighs, she heaved me a foot in the air. 
Releasing her grasp and twisting around, she jammed both her hands 
in my chest, and power slammed me onto my back. I lay there 
stunned for a moment. Laura could have easily wrapped my legs up 
and gotten the pin, but instead she sat on my stomach and pinned my 
arms to the mat with her bulging triceps. Laura was looking right 
into my eyes as Meryl started to count. Bucking my shoulders off the 
mat, I stopped the count at two. As I looked back into Laura's eyes, I 
realized that she was giving me a last crucial test. Straining for 
all I was worth, I lifted my shoulders an inch above the mat. 
Laura's eyes seemed to sparkle. With a sudden effort, I flexed my 
arms and abs, lifting Laura's hundred and fifty plus pounds another 
two inches. Releasing the tension in my torso and twisting, I 
tried to heave her off of me. Laura lost her grip on my right arm, 
and nearly went over on her side.  But before I could take advantage 
of her position, she regained her balance and pounced on my free arm 
pinning me again. I continued to struggle as Meryl counted me out.

I lay on the canvas for a few seconds collecting my breath after 
Laura got off of me. Laura held her hand out in a sportsman like 
manner and helped me up.

Exchanging a final high-five with Meryl, she announced, "Laura and 
Meryl win, Three to two."

They then huddled for a minute in the opposite corner talking something 
over. Climbing out of the ring, they motioned me over. Laura tossed 
me a towel and a bottle of water.

"Here Mark, have a seat and rest a few minutes."

I sat on the ring apron and took a drink as Laura continued, "You 
lost, but you did well enough to make the bonus round."

Meryl continued, "As you already noticed, we also like to box. 
So we'd like to invite you to try us in a little low-high boxing 
match."

Laura cut in, "I'll start off low. No punches below the belt or to 
the head. Only body punches are allowed."

"Then I'll take over high. Only head punches will be allowed," said 
Meryl.

"For you to win, all you have to do is knock one of us out. For us 
to win, both of us have to knock you out. After the first of us 
manages it, the second must continue to fight you alone until one of 
you wins. So what do you say, want a shot at the title?" Laura asked 
as she again flashed me that 'to die for' smile.

Unfortunately, it sounded like they were determined to kill me. 

Meryl smiled at my hesitation and added, "I almost forgot to mention 
the best part. There's a prize if you win. You know that sandwich 
you've been dreaming about making with us ever since we walked 
through the door. Well if you win, we'll be the bread, and you'll 
apply the mayonnaise."

I looked over at Laura. She nodded her head at me. All thoughts of 
injury fled my mind as I rushed to answer.

In my best Stallone, I said, "Yo, lets go for it."

Laura favored me with another smile, "I'm glad to here you say that 
Mark. So far you're batting a thousand. We'll meet you here tomorrow 
night for part two."

When I woke up the next morning, I thought it had all been a dream, 
but my aching back told me otherwise. I called in sick to work, and 
started to prepare for the fight. I knew it was too late to try 
jumping rope or doing sit-ups. But I was already in pretty good 
shape. Based on their wrestling skills, and the way they were 
knocking the stuffing out of the punching bags, the girls obviously 
knew what they were doing. What I needed was a crash course in 
boxing. After making a few phone calls, I rushed down to a local 
boxing gym. Stuffing two hundred dollars into the owner's hand, I 
bought myself four hours of instruction with a trainer. I made up a 
story about being challenged by a little guy who was an ex-pro. 
After discussing my situation with him, he showed me the basics. We 
also discussed how I might be able to use my superior strength and 
reach to make up for my lack of experience. I had him hit me a few 
times in the gut full force, just to prove to myself that I could 
take it. He showed me how to protect my vulnerable spots, and how 
and where to hit someone to knock them out. At the end of the 
session, I felt that I had a good chance. 

Throughout the day, I ate a lot of carbs, and rested, building up my 
energy reserves. I had the chance of a lifetime here, and I intended 
to do all I could to win. Showing up to the gym early, I warmed up 
with some light biking. When the girls were five minutes late, I 
started to worry. But after another couple of anxious moments, the 
door opened and they walked in.

"Hello Mark. Glad you decided to show," Laura greeted me.

"Yea, we've been looking forward to this all day," Meryl said as she 
playfully punched me on the chin with her tiny fist.

"Wild horses couldn't stop me," I replied.

"Then it's too bad you aren't fighting wild horses. We'll be ready 
in a few minutes, why don't you wait in the boxing room for us."

When they entered the room, I felt as though I had been gut punched. 
They each wore silk boxing shorts with matching satin bikini tops. 
Again, Laura again wore purple, and Meryl wore gold. Meryl caught me 
looking at her chest as her breasts made a bid for freedom.

"Like our uniforms. Me and Laura used to be with one of those foxy 
boxing troupes. We just took it a lot more seriously than the rest 
of the girls. They asked us to leave because we were accidentally 
hurting people."

Taking my hands, Laura taped me up, and laced on a pair of small 
eight ounce gloves. I didn't mind the light gloves. They would 
increase the odds of a lucky punch on my part ending in a knockout.
Laura's muscles danced for me as she worked. God she looked good.
When she was finished, Meryl laced her up. I spread the ropes for 
Laura as we entered the ring.

"After you," I said with a smile.

"Why thank you," Laura replied.

Meryl announced the start of the fight, "The rules are simple. Two 
minute rounds with two minute rests. A fighter will be declared out 
at the count of ten. Remember, no punches to the head during the low 
rounds. Get ready, begin."

Meryl activated the small ringside timer. Laura approached me 
aggressively with her hands held low. I crouched a bit as we met in 
the center of the ring. Laura hit first. Using her big arms, she 
hammered me in the ribs. I responded with a shot to the abs. It felt 
like hitting a phone pole. Laura smiled as she absorbed my blow and 
sent two rights into my side. She hit harder than the boxing trainer 
I had visited. Crouching low, I tried to cover my torso with my 
arms. Laura didn't have a problem with that. She just started 
hitting my shoulders and biceps. Taking advantage of her wide 
swings, I launched a hard punch for her solar plexus. Laura moved 
to avoid it, and I ended up smacking her right breast. I was about 
to apologize, but she didn't give a chance. Moving in close, she 
ripped into me. All I could do was try to survive her onslaught. 

After the bell sounded, I went over to their corner, where Meryl was 
lacing up, and said, "Please excuse me Laura, I wasn't trying to hit 
you there."

"A gentleman, I like that. But don't worry about it. It's not 
against the rules. And if I thought you had done it on purpose, I 
would have gone after you for real."

I hoped that she was kidding. She couldn't hit harder than 
that, could she? But it was Meryl that I had to worry about this 
round. I must have had a one foot reach advantage on her, but she 
moved too fast to hit. She ducked once, then twice, and then she 
was inside my guard, snapping my head back with her tiny fists. I 
tried to hit her a few more times during the round, but couldn't lay 
a glove on her. Meryl on the other hand, managed to hit me every 
time I lowered my guard to try something.

The round ended, and I returned to my corner. This wasn't going well 
at all. It would be difficult to take out a normal fighter strictly 
with body punches. Against Laura's rock hard body, it would be damn 
near impossible. It should be relatively easy to take out Meryl with 
a hard shot to the head. But she would never give me a chance. 
Despite my best efforts, I hadn't come up with a plan by the time 
the next round started. 

As Laura entered the ring, Meryl said, "Stop taking it easy on him, 
and get me a target."

The third round was hell. Laura continued to bore in without 
worrying about my attempts to hit her. As I huddled in a corner at 
the end of the round, she used her bulging triceps to hit my left 
arm a dozen times. No doubt it would be black and blue tomorrow. 

As Laura returned to her corner, she told Meryl, "There you go, have 
fun."

I wondered what she meant. But as I went out to meet Meryl in the 
fourth round, I found out. My left arm had stiffened during the two 
minute break, and was difficult to hold up. The first half of the 
round, I managed to cover up and keep her wary of my punches. But as 
the round progressed, I found myself dropping my sore left. Every 
time I dropped my guard a bit, Meryl managed to score. She stung the 
left side of my faced at least ten times, including one 
particularly hard punch that started a mouse under my eye. When the 
bell sounded, Laura greeted her with a gloved high-five.

Back in my corner I was desperate. Their strategy was apparent now. 
Laura would use her strength to lower my guard, while Meryl would 
pick me apart with her speed. My original "lucky punch" strategy 
was useless against them. They were just too damned good. But as I 
thought about my opponents, I realized that they might have some 
vulnerabilities that weren't obvious. I began to formulate a plan.

Laura continued to work my body during round five. I covered up and 
tried to absorb as many blows as I could with my gloves and 
forearms. I only hit back enough so that it wasn't obvious that I was 
trying to save my strength. When the round ended, I made a show of 
breathing heavily, and tiredly slumping in my corner. I felt like 
hell as I saw Laura's look of disappointment from across the ring, 
but I had to look bad if my plan was to succeed.

Meryl didn't look disappointed. She looked like a cat getting ready 
to play with a helpless mouse. At the sound of the bell, I continued 
my act. Getting up like an old man, I let Meryl come to me. I held 
my gloves in front of my face, countering with weak, slow punches. 
As I let her push me around the ropes, I gradually let down my 
guard. When I had reached the corner that Laura was standing behind, 
I acted as if I were done. Pretending that I could barely hold my 
hands up, I let Meryl hit me half a dozen times. It hurt like hell, 
but I could take it. At this point, I could see that Meryl was 
confident that I couldn't hit back. 

Stopping for a second she glanced over at her partner and said, 
"Sorry Laura, looks like you overestimated him."

I couldn't see it, but I could feel Laura's disappointment hitting 
me in the back, as Meryl hit me in the front. Meryl was standing 
right in front of me now. When I saw that all of her concentration 
was focused on battering my face, I suddenly snapped out of my 
stupor and caught her with a big right hand in the forehead. Meryl 
stumbled backwards towards the center of the ring trying to shake 
the cobwebs out. I immediately pursued her, not giving her a chance 
to recover. A big roundhouse right spun her on her feet. A left 
snapped her head to one side. She was out on her feet, but I could 
tell that she was still fighting to stand. Jesus, she was tough. 
Bending low, I launched an uppercut which hit her right under the 
jaw and knocked her mouthpiece flying. I swear her feet left the 
canvas as she went flying on her back. Laura counted to ten in a 
monotone voice, then went over to make sure Meryl was OK.

After trying to revive her for a few minutes, Meryl finally 
regained consciousness. 

"Your right, he is tricky."

After a few more minutes, Meryl had nearly recovered.

Looking up at me she said, "Guess you've earned that sandwich."

Looking at Laura, I could see that she wasn't happy, and I thought I 
knew why.

"I don't want the sandwich. I'll give it all up for one date with you 
Laura."

Meryl looked shocked, "Most men would kill for a chance to be with 
us. Are you sure you're willing to give it up?"

"I'm sure," I replied, maintaining eye contact with Laura.

"Gee Laura, I think you might have a keeper here. Have fun kids."

Laura finally spoke, "That wasn't part of the bargain. You did earn 
the sandwich. But if you want to go out with me, you're going to 
have to win the extra bonus round. You're going to have to knock me 
out also, and do it low."

"What are you, nuts?" Meryl exclaimed.

Laura just watched me, waiting for my reaction. I wasn't surprised 
at her response. I had avoided her, and tricked Meryl. In her mind, I 
had cheated on the test. If I wanted her now, I would have to prove 
myself to her by taking a harder test - her test.

Looking Laura right in the eyes, I said, "Lets go, we're wasting 
time."

Laura nodded with approval, but it was far from over. I didn't know 
how I was going to beat her. She was damn near as strong me, and had 
only boxed half as many rounds. Meryl sounded the bell and we 
touched gloves. Laura immediately started throwing leather. But this 
time I held my ground and matched her punch for punch. We beat the 
shit out of each other for the full two minutes. When the bell 
sounded, neither of us was willing to quit. Meryl had to force her 
small body between us to get us to stop.

"What the hell's the matter with the two of you? If I didn't know 
better, I'd think that you didn't like each other."

She didn't know. This wasn't about like. It was about love. And 
whether or not I was worthy to love a woman like Laura.

Round two started off the same way. We stood toe to toe exchanging 
shots. But as the round progressed, I started to give ground. And 
this time it wasn't an act. Eight rounds of boxing had taken their 
toll. At the end of the round Laura had me against the ropes.

Round three, I could barely get up to meet her. Laura herded me into 
a corner and punished my tired gut. I threw my arms around her to try 
and slow her down. Laura wouldn't have it. Jamming her gloves into 
my nipples, she disdainfully shoved me away. With another four 
thudding blows, she put me down.

"You want me Mark? Get up and take me."

At Meryl's count of seven, I managed to regain my feet. Laura cut me 
no slack as she continued to pound me heavily until the end of the 
round.

I was in trouble from the start of round four. Laura marched 
right over to me and whipped her fist into my lower abs, just inches 
above my dick. As I doubled over, she put her hands on my shoulders 
and shoved me onto my ass.

Looking down at me, she commanded, "Stay down." Glancing back at 
Meryl, she said, "What the hell are you looking at? Start 
counting."

Meryl started her count. Ignoring the agony of my angry purple 
stomach, I lurched to my feet at the count of four. Laura smacked 
her gloves together and came at me from the neutral corner. With 
nothing but the ropes holding me up, I couldn't do anything except 
watch her. 

When Laura reached me, she said, "When... I... Tell... You... To... 
Stay... Down... You... Goddamn... Better... Stay... Down..."

She punctuated each word with a vicious punch. The last one sent 
me crashing to the mat with a few cracked ribs. Meryl grimly started 
her count. She wasn't quite sure what was going on, but she didn't 
like it. Using the ropes to pull myself up, I got to my feet by the 
count of nine.

Ignoring the pain in my chest, I motioned Laura to close with me with 
my gloved hands. "Come on Laura, this fight isn't nearly over yet."

Laura went berserk. Charging me, she hit my injured chest like a 
linebacker, sending me flying towards my corner. Grasping my jaw 
with her left hand, she held me up, while repeatedly driving her 
right fist into my intestines. Meryl sounded the bell. Laura 
wouldn't stop. Meryl quickly climbed through the ropes, and jumped on 
Laura's broad back, pulling her off of me.

"I'm stopping this fight right now. Were going home."

Laura flung her off, and yelled, "Mind your own fucking business!"

Meryl got up and positioned herself in front of me.

"I'm not going to let you kill him."

I surprised Meryl by shoving her aside. 

"You heard the lady, mind your own fucking business."

Meryl climbed back outside the ropes shaking her head.

"You want to die, fuck it. Thirty seconds till round five."

I stayed in my corner and made Laura come for me. Her blows seemed 
to have lost much of their strength as she started to pound me.

"Fight me, damn you! Fight for me!" Laura cried in an impassioned 
tone.

I don't know where I found the strength, but Laura's words triggered 
something deep inside me. Exploding out of the corner, I shoved her 
back to the center of the ring. We paused there for a second, 
trading punches, then I slowly started to drive her back towards her 
corner. After what seemed like hours, I finally trapped her. 
Releasing all of my pent-up emotions, I unleashed punch after punch 
into her sweaty torso. Finally feeling her abs collapse before my 
leather clad hands, I sent one more punch into her stomach, hooking 
deep under her ribcage. Laura fell to her knees with a gurgle. She 
paused for a moment, and looked up at me. Her pretty face expressed 
a mixture of agony and respect. After a few seconds, she rolled over 
onto her side clutching her belly. I clung to the ropes to stay up 
as Meryl counted.

When she reached ten, I heard Laura groan, "You win, you bastard."

A few seconds after it was over, I collapsed beside her and lost 
consciousness.

It was three weeks until I was fit enough to claim my prize. 
Arriving at the apartment where Laura and Meryl were roommates, I 
knocked on the door. I was wearing my best suit, and had a dozen red 
roses in my hand. Meryl opened the door and let me in.

"Hi Mark, your looking a lot better now. Laura's going to be a few 
more minutes. She's been acting like a schoolgirl going out on her 
first date."

"I feel better. The doctors said that I should be fine if I take it 
easy for a few months."

From behind me I heard, "Then you'll be lucky if you survive the 
night."

I turned to see Laura enter the room. She looked gorgeous in a 
sleeveless white dress. As I led her out the front door, I knew that 
I had made the right decision. A sandwich makes a good snack, but 
the next day you'll be hungry again.


FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723   

[Chainer★]

FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723   


           THE PRIZEFIGHT VII: Lori Joins the Circuit
           ------------------------------------------

Lori was taking a vacation. It wasn't a vacation by choice. You 
could say that Lori's hobby was boxing, but that wasn't quite true. 
Lori's hobby was kicking ass. Boxing was her method of choice. She 
had recently goaded a man into a private match. After ripping him 
apart for about half an hour, she had left him looking like a lump 
of ground meat in the center of the ring. As was her custom, she had 
called him an ambulance before disappearing into the night. Unlike 
her other victims, he actually went to the police and filed a 
report. Every other man she had ever done that to would have been 
too embarrassed to say anything. But she had to run into the one male 
secure enough in his masculinity to admit it. Secure hell, he was 
probably a homo. Anyway, that was why she was here in Vegas. The 
cops had been asking about her in the local gyms. Even though nobody 
knew where she lived or what her real name was, a lot of people had 
seen her. And once they saw her, they never forgot her. If she had 
hung around Los Angeles, it would only be a matter of time before 
somebody dropped a dime on her.

Lori found Vegas to be a boring city. Gambling with money held 
little attraction for somebody who was willing to bet her body in 
brutal contests for fun. So it was no wonder that after a few weeks 
of working out in hotel gyms, she went looking for some local 
action. She joined a boxing gym on the outskirts of the city. It 
wasn't what she was used to. It was neat, clean, and sanitary. None 
of the members appeared to be real boxers. They looked like a bunch 
of yuppie assholes trying to keep from getting old and fat. She 
missed the smell of stale sweat in a real gym. The obscene banter 
and spitting on the floor were fond memories. If she didn't find 
herself a challenge soon, she would probably have to start something 
with some poor shmuck. Fortunately, she found some volunteers.

Lori had been hitting the weights heavy lately. Combined with her 
recent inactivity, it had caused her to bulk up considerably. She 
was now packing one hundred and sixty five pounds on her five foot 
nine inch frame. She had been working her upper body, and her 
muscles were pumped to the point of exploding. Her sweaty tank top 
clung tightly to torso revealing her massive chest and chiseled abs. 
Beads of sweat were rolling off of her pects between smallish breasts 
which looked as hard as apples. Her dark nipples threatened to rip 
through the flimsy fabric. She often dressed like this to attract 
potential victims, but these assholes were to polite to say 
anything. So it actually surprised her when she was accosted by 
three men working out in one of the gyms small rings. She had been 
heading for the showers when she heard the comments.

"Jesus, will you get a load of that. She looks like just came in 
from the parking lot after benching some cars."

"She looks like she could crack walnuts with her tits."

"Hey babe. How about a date. We can arm wrestle to see who gets to be 
on top."

It slowly sank in. Hey babe? Hey fuckin' babe? The first two 
comments hadn't bothered her. She might even consider them 
complements. But the dating comment yanked her chain. Lori turned 
slowly to face the three men. Two of them were typical members. More 
at home on a golf course than in the ring. The third man, the one 
who had called her babe, was huge. He was about six four, two sixty. 
Walking closer, she addressed his remark.

"Arm wrestlings for wimps. Why don't we box to see who's on top."

"Hey babe, I'm a lover not a fighter."

Lori jumped up on the ring apron. Before he could react, she reached 
through the ropes, grabbed his trunks, and yanked them out. 

Looking down, she said, "You sure aren't a sword fighter. More like 
a potato peeler fighter."

The big guy's buddies cracked up at this, and his face visibly 
reddened.

"What would a fucking dike like yourself know about it?"

"Dike? You look like you've got a great suit against the doctor who 
screwed up your sex change. Which way were you changing?"

The big dude looked really pissed now. He reached down and grabbed 
her wrist and tried to get her hand out of his pants. A look of 
disbelief crossed his face when her arm didn't budge.

"Strong grip you've got there. No doubt you developed it squeezing 
that lump of putty in your pants."

"Get off of me you fucking bitch."

He made the mistake of trying to push her. Before he could make 
contact with her chest, she expertly snagged his hand and bent 
his wrist back. He trembled for a second, trying to resist the 
painful hold, but he couldn't resist. Slowly and deliberately, Lori 
forced him to his knees.

"No need to beg, big man. I'll tell you what, if you can beat me, 
you can eat me."

She released him with a final shove that put him on his ass. The 
sounds of laughter filled the gym. Most of the members had been 
watching the spectacle after hearing his outburst. The muscle-head 
got up quickly. His face was beet red now. 

"You want some of this bitch! Come in here and get it!"

Lori didn't hesitate to climb through the ropes.

"Thought you'd never ask. Hey stud, toss me those gloves."

Lori quickly put on the gloves and got in his face before he had a 
chance to reconsider his hasty words. By now, the whole gym was 
crowding around the ring. The big dude's buddies had wisely fled and 
left him to his fate. Lori didn't waste any time. She moved in and 
sent three quick jabs upward into his face. He responded with a 
slow, muscle-bound swing which she easily ducked. Using her right 
hand, she smashed his ribs like Rocky hitting a side of beef.

Lori was feeling better than she had in weeks. Punching a bag was no 
substitute for a real fight. Bags didn't grunt when you hit them. 
They didn't bleed either. Muscle-head went crazy from the pain of 
being hit for real. He lunged at her with open arms looking to 
squash her like a bug. Lori waited until the last possible moment. 
Have you ever seen the Rock'em Sock'em Robots toy? Well witnesses 
swear that they saw his thick neck stretch two inches from the force 
of her uppercut. His full two hundred and sixty pounds stopped dead 
for a second. Then, almost in slow motion, he fell on his back as if 
he was dead. The crowd was silent for a second. 

From the back of the room, someone said, "I think she broke his 
freakin' neck."

Someone jumped into the ring to check him.

"He's breathing. Call an ambulance."

Lori wasn't pleased for two reasons. First, she had called unwanted 
attention to herself. Second, and more importantly, he had gotten 
off too easily. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as she left the 
ring. As she headed for the showers, she caught a few remarks.

"Holy shit, did you see that. She dropped him like an ox."

"I've never seen anyone hit so hard. She might even be a match for 
Sharon."

"Don't get carried away. She's good, but nobody's better than 
Sharon."

Lori was frowning as she lathered up her naked body in the 
shower. Who the hell was this Sharon? She had overheard the name a 
few times before, and had gathered that she was another boxer. But 
it pissed her off to hear people negatively compare her to that 
bitch. Lori had faced a few women before. She smiled at the thought 
of her last encounter. A few months ago, she had been working out at 
a gym much like this one. She had noticed a man and woman regularly 
training together. From the way they acted, it was obvious that they 
were much more than workout partners. She had waited until he was 
alone, and invited him to spar. Getting him into the ring, she beat 
the shit out of him. His girlfriend walked in and flipped. She 
challenged her to a fight. She had been a tough bitch, but Lori 
was a lot tougher. She fucked her up in front of her boyfriend. And 
if that wasn't satisfying enough, he had flipped out and attacked 
her, giving her the chance to fuck him up again. The last she heard, 
they were in adjoining hospital beds. So she wasn't intimidated by 
the thought of meeting this Sharon. Probably some local version of 
herself. And judging by the local talent, she had nothing to worry 
about.

As Lori left the gym, she saw muscle-head being carried out on a 
stretcher with a neck brace. Time to join another gym. As she walked 
towards her Bronco, a small man approached her in the parking lot.

"That was a pretty impressive show you put on back there. I'd like 
to make you a proposition."

Lori wasn't in the mood. 

"Look asshole, I've got no time for your shit. Get out of my way or 
save some money doubling up on the ambulance ride."

The guy backed off a couple of steps and put up his hands.

"Hey, it's not that type of proposition. I'm looking for fighters 
interested in picking up a few bucks."

"Turning pro isn't my style."

"It isn't exactly sanctioned. I manage a small private gym. 
Occasionally we stage some cash fights for local gamblers. I figure 
with your looks and talent, we could clean up."

Lori paused for a moment. It wasn't a bad offer. A place to work 
out, and a couple of bucks to help out with the hotel bills.

"I might be interested."

"Excellent. But I've got to warn you, these fights can get rough."

Lori almost broke out laughing. What a clown.

"Don't worry. I think my delicate constitution can take it."

"My name's Harry James. Here's my card. The gym is open twenty four 
hours a day, combinations on the back. Stop by anytime you're ready."

Lori dropped in two days later. She was surprised at the place. 
Outside, it was a plain white concrete block building with a storage 
company's sign on the side. She checked the address twice before 
trying the lock. The door opened and she entered. There was a hall 
about twenty feet long leading to a second door with a camera 
mounted above it. As she approached, a voice came from a hidden 
speaker.

"Please identify yourself."

"My name's Lori. Lori Jones. Harry James invited me to come down."

Lori held the card up before the camera.

"You're expected Miss Jones. Thank you for coming."

The door buzzed to admit her. Inside, Lori was dazzled by the best 
equipped boxing gym she had ever seen. There were four full sized 
rings. Ten leather heavy bags hung along one wall. They weren't the 
taped up pieces of shit she was used to hitting. Various types of 
speed bags lined another wall, some in odd looking configurations 
she had never seen before. A garage sized door gave her a 
glimpse of the weight room. It looked like Gold's Gym at Venice 
Beach where she had worked out during her body building days. 
Everything in the place looked new and barely used. But it clearly 
was used, and used hard. 

A dozen men were working out in the gym. Nobody would mistake them 
for yuppies. They were clearly professional fighters. Most of them 
sported some serious looking scars. A few of then had some major 
facial disfigurement. All of them looked like mean sons of bitches. 
Lori felt like she was home again.

Lori walked over to get a closer view of an odd looking piece of 
equipment. Harry James approached her from a back office.

"Like it. It's a meter used to measure punching power. It used to 
belong to the East German Olympic boxing team. We picked it up after 
the wall came down. Here, give it a try."

James flicked a switch and a monitor lit up.

"Just punch the pad as hard as you can."

"Don't mind if I do."

Lori threw a couple of short right jabs to warm her shoulder up. 
Then she suddenly shot forward and slammed her fist into the pad with 
a sharp crack. The monitor popped up with a graph bearing a large 
"787" marking the peak of the curve. The manager looked ecstatic.

"Damn that's good. Most of the guys here would have trouble matching 
that. Of course, you're a woman, and we've found that a woman's 
smaller fist area gives them an advantage in penetration for the 
amount of force exerted. This machine is supposed to help train you 
to utilize your strength to hit harder. Even with your punch, I'll 
bet you could still raise that number twenty five percent with some 
practice."

"You have other women members?" Lori asked.

"Well, we have one woman member. You'll make two if you're accepted."

"Is her name Sharon?"

"Heard of her, have you? We've got to watch the leaks. Yes, her 
name's Sharon, Sharon Moore. In fact, she's the current champion of 
our association."

"Women's champion you mean?"

"We don't differentiate. In fact, we don't even have weight classes."

"These fighters," Lori motioned with her thumb, "she beat them?"

"These guys," James laughed, "they aren't even in line for a shot. 
Does that scare you?"

"Not at all. In fact, I'm looking forward to meeting Sharon. I think 
she's got something I want. Her title."

The manager laughed again, "You've got balls. None of these guys 
would dare say anything like that, even as a joke. I'm glad we 
didn't misjudge you."

"We?"

"The Board. They've been looking for you a long time Miss Jones, or 
should I say Miss Demonet."

"You have five seconds to start explaining before your face measures 
a 787."

"No need for violence. At least, not outside the ring. I downplayed 
the extent of our organization. Have you ever heard of illegal cash 
fighting in your home city?"

"Yeah, I've heard of it. Big money bet on back alley bare knuckles 
matches. I was even approached once, but I turned them down. I 
prefer to do my real fighting in private for my own reasons."

"Those fights are small time. One of our local chapters generates 
more revenue in a night than all of the back alley fights make in a 
month. But this isn't a local chapter. We are the nationals. The 
locals act like farm teams for us. The money at this level rivals 
and sometimes exceeds professional boxing. One of the functions of 
the locals is to identify and recruit talent for us. Your exploits 
have not gone unnoticed. To date, you have put at least fifty men 
and women in the hospital that we know of. You have also taken 
seventeen championship belts and trophies from their former owners."

"Nineteen, actually," Lori interrupted.

"Yes, well we aren't omnipotent. We're just a sporting organization. 
About three years ago, Sharon joined our Chicago chapter. Within a 
year, she had taken the city championship, and was asked to join the 
nationals. Within another year, she managed to take the national 
title. If I told you who she beat to get it, you'd shit yourself."

"I don't care who she beat to get it. I care who she's going to have 
to beat to keep it."

"That's why you're here. Before Sharon was champion, we probably would 
have let the locals recruit you. But with her ascension, there has 
been a tremendous amount of pressure from our patrons to recruit 
other women fighters to challenge her. We were recently looking at a 
lass named Diane as a potential prospect. That is, until you put her 
in the hospital."

Lori smiled at the memory.

James continued, "So we followed the trail of broken bodies and 
finally caught up with you here. If you agree to fight for us, 
we can help you out with that little police problem you have at 
home. And we can also help you with any future police problems. And 
of course, there's always the money. I won't trouble you about it, 
since I don't think that's a motivator for you. Lets just say it's a 
lot more than the President makes, and a little less than Ross Perot."

"So when do I get to I get to meet Sharon?"

"She's on her honeymoon right now. Married her ring attendant from 
her championship fight. She won't be back for a few weeks yet. But 
you can't face her immediately anyway. You've got to fight a couple 
of national level competitors first. If for no other reason, so we 
can set the odds."

"So I have to beat a couple of these assholes before I meet Sharon."

James nodded.

"So pick two. Have them waiting in the ring for me by the time I get 
out of the dressing room."

He smiled again, "I think we're going to make a lot of 
money together."

Lori returned his smile, "I think we're going to kick some ass."

Lori returned fifteen minutes later wearing a white tank top and 
shorts. Her fists had been expertly taped by one of the expert 
attendants back in the locker room. James had chosen her opponents. 
He had selected the largest fighter and the smallest.

"I can understand you choosing the small guy for speed and finesse, 
but I thought you'd already seen me take out a muscle-head," Lori 
commented.

"There's a difference. This muscle-head knows how to fight. Bruno, 
you go first."

Lori's opponent entered the ring. He was a hairy slab of meat. 
Probably about six three, two forty. The bell was sounded, and the 
fight began. Lori moved in first. She led off immediately with a 
left right combination. Bruno took a swing at her which she 
purposely let connect. The blow nearly knocked her over, but she 
managed to retain her balance.

"My mother hits harder than that."

Bruno stuck his jaw out.

"Come on little girl, show me what you've got."

Lori accepted the invitation. Her roundhouse whipped his head around 
and sent his mouthpiece flying out of the ring. Bruno staggered for 
a second, shook his head, and smiled through bloody teeth.

"Sharon hits harder than that."

At ringside, James winced. Wrong thing to say Bruno. But Bruno 
was finding that out for himself. Lori had leapt on him like a 
panther. Bruno was overwhelmed by the fury of her attack. A left to 
the jaw, a right to the nose, a gut punch. Bruno tried to hit back, 
but it just opened him up for more. Lori drove him like cattle into 
a corner. Bruno hit the ropes as Lori drove her fist deep into his 
solar plexus. Bruno dropped his hands and clutched at his heart with 
shallow gasps. She took advantage of this with three more punches to 
the face. Bending over, she grabbed Bruno's feet. Straightening up, 
she flipped him over the top rope where he fell eight feet to the 
floor with a dull smack. Her white taped fist displayed fresh red 
stains as she pointed towards her next opponent.

"Get your ass in here you sorry sack of shit, before I get mad."

"You heard the lady, get in there Benny," James ordered.

Benny looked a little reluctant as he entered the ring. And who 
could blame him? This woman was a meat grinder. She could fight, but 
could she box? Benny decided to find out. Using his superior reach 
advantage, he sent a quick left jab into Lori's nose. Lori backed up 
for a second and wiped the blood from her nostrils on her wrist.

After contemplating the redness for a second, she looked up and said, 
"So, you think you know how to box? Bet you also think you're quick. 
You probably even think you know how to satisfy a woman. Let me tell 
you how this is going to go. I'm not going to use anything to beat 
you but my left hand. I'm not going to use any punch except a jab. 
And, I'm only going to hit your nose. Got it?"

Nobody could tell if Benny had tried to nod or not, because before 
anyone could react to her announcement, she flashed the two steps 
towards him, and drove a hard left directly into his nose. Benny's 
head snapped back. As it came forward, his nose was met with a 
second left jab. Blood started to pour out.

"You fucking bitch!"

How original Lori thought, why she hadn't been called that in days. 
She expertly avoided Benny's swings, causing him to miss by inches. 
Every time he missed, she connected with a left jab to his nose. 
After about a minute of this, Benny's nose was broken and swollen. 
His eyes were watering so badly he could hardly see. Giving up on 
offense, he concentrated on protecting his broken nose.

Lori taunted him, "Come on Benny, I know you're hiding back there, 
show yourself."

Lori backed him against the ropes with her flicking hand. She 
suddenly stood still like a statue for five seconds. A curious 
Benny parted his fists a crack to see what was going on. Lori's 
fist was a blur as it darted between the gap to land with the 
sickening sound of bone on bone. Benny stumbled around trying to 
hold his nose. Similar to an old joke, all he got for his trouble 
were broken fingers. Lori continued the exercise for another two 
minutes. In the end, she didn't knock Benny out, he fainted.

Benny's face was covered with spattered blood, but was otherwise 
untouched. As for his nose, he didn't really have one anymore. It 
looked like a couple of red flattened lumps of flesh and cartilage 
randomly distributed in the middle of his face. Even the hardened 
pit fighters looked a little queasy at what Lori had done. Benny 
stirred a bit and managed to open his eyes. Lori bent over and 
grasped the largest chunk of nose flesh between two curled fingers. 

With a sudden yank, she said, "Hey Benny, got your nose."

Benny focused for a second on the dripping hunk of flesh she held 
before his face. His eyes then rolled back and he lost consciousness 
again. Lori dropped his nose onto his chest. One of the fighters 
threw up on the floor. Lori looked out on the stunned faces.

"It could have been worse. Once, a guy punched me in the groin. 
Anybody want to hear the story?"

All of the fighters seemed to have remembered that they were late 
for an urgent appointment.

"Hey guys, come back. Is there something wrong with my breath?"

James came over to congratulate her.

"Great work Lori. We got it all on tape. After the Board sees this, 
you should be clear for a title shot against Sharon. Besides, after 
today, I don't think we're going to be able to find anyone else to 
fight you."



Five thousand miles away on a sandy white beach, Bob rubbed suntan 
lotion on Sharon's broad muscular back. He had loved her from the 
first moment he had seen her. She had fallen for him during her 
championship fight against Matt Dyson. Both of them realized each 
other's love when Bob had sacrificed himself to save Sharon's life 
from a wildly swung baseball bat. After seeing her through five title 
defenses and a hundred nights of passion, he had asked her to marry 
him. Sharon had agreed immediately. They were now on their honeymoon
discussing the future.

"I don't want you to fight on the circuit anymore Sharon. Every time 
you step into the ring, you're risking your life. It just isn't 
worth it. Look what happened to Dyson."

"I happened to Dyson. And they don't even have anyone close to his 
level. Besides, we need the money. One more fight, and we're set for 
life. We can open up our own gym and live happily ever after."

"Look Sharon, I think we can make it with what we've got now. And 
I'm worried about you. Don't get offended, but since you became 
champion and met me, you've lost the eye of the tiger."

Sharon rolled over to expose her magnificent upper body and naked 
breasts.

"You want to see the eye of the tiger lover. Climb on. Grrrrrrr."



Back in Vegas, the monitor flashed "892". Lori's new manager slapped 
her on the back.

"A thirteen percent increase in less than a week. Sharon's never 
going to know what hit her."

Lori slapped him back, nearly knocking him down.

"Fucking-A. And if you ever touch me again, I'm going to rip your 
spine out your asshole," she said with a smile.

"That's the spirit. I think you've got what it takes to beat Sharon. 
But it never hurts to have an extra edge. I've got a ticket to 
Chicago with your name on it. Here's what I'd like you to do."

As Lori listened to James's plan, her smile broadened. It wasn't a 
bad plan, and it sounded like it might be fun. Her kind of fun.


To be continued .....


              THE PRIZEFIGHT VIII: Sharon vs. Lori
              ------------------------------------

Jack Moore was just finishing up his kids class at the local youth 
center. A former Golden Gloves champion like his father before him, 
he felt that the discipline boxing instilled was good for them to 
learn. As he dismissed them, he saw the outline of somebody coming 
through the doorway. It was a woman, but what a woman. She was about 
five foot nine with a muscular upper body which tapered down to a 
slim waist and then exploding with powerful hips and thighs

As she approached closer, he could make out some details. She was an 
attractive brunette with brown eyes set in a beautifully featured 
face. She was wearing a tight fitting white top with a short leather 
mini-skirt. Her body was incredibly hard looking. Even her smallish 
breasts looked pumped like tennis balls. As she approached the ring, 
he realized that he had been staring.

She gave him a friendly smile, "What's the matter, never seen a 
woman like me before?"

"As a matter of fact, you remind me of my sister."

"Oh, is your sister a bodybuilder also?"

"You could say that. She always lifted for the sports she played. 
She used to do volleyball, softball, and gymnastics. She even did 
a little boxing," Jack smiled back. 

"Well that's actually why I'm here. Someone told me that I could get 
some private lessons in return for a donation to the youth center. 
They also told me to ask for Jack Moore. They told me he really 
knows how to box."

"You heard right. I'm Jack, and that's my Golden Gloves trophy in the 
case over there. I'd be glad to show you what I know."

"Glad to meet you Jack, My name's Cathy Jones. Can you handle late 
lessons? I get off work at ten."

"Sure, I've got a key to center. Just see Brian in the office. We 
can start tonight if you want."

"Tonight will be great. I'll be looking forward to it."

Jack watched her retreat towards the office. Her rock hard buttocks 
muscles were causing a commotion under that skirt. Damn she looked 
good. He couldn't believe his luck. Most woman just went to one of 
those new yuppie co-ed gyms when they wanted to play at boxing. This 
woman actually looked serious.
 
After she left, Brian came running out of the office.

"You must have made quite an impression on that lady you lucky son 
of a bitch. She just donated a thousand dollars to the center. 
Private lessons? Just make sure you clean up any body fluids left in 
the ring when you're done."

"Hey don't worry about me. I'm a professional."

Jack met Cathy at ten thirty that night and started showing her the 
basics. She proved to be a quick study. If he hadn't known better, 
he would have sworn that she had some boxing experience. After 
leading her through a boxing workout, he took her in the ring for a 
little sparring. As they worked, he couldn't help but to study her 
body. Cathy was wearing a white tank top, no bra. When she started to 
sweat, the flimsy fabric turned almost transparent. Her dark perky 
nipples twitched every time she threw a punch. A hard jab to the face 
brought him back to reality.

"Hey stud, pay attention, you're supposed to be teaching me," Cathy 
said playfully.

"Doesn't look like you need much teaching. You're a natural kid."

"Well thank you kind sir. Am I as good as your sister?"

"That wouldn't be a fair comparison. My sister's been boxing almost 
as long as I have. I don't mind admitting that she's probably better 
than me."

"But how can that be? You were a Golden Gloves champion."

"Yep, and my sister would have been if they had allowed girls to 
compete. When we were kids she used to beat the stuffing out of me 
sometimes. The only reason I ever won was because I was a lot bigger 
than she was. It's a damn shame there's no real women's boxing yet. 
She probably would have been some kind of champion."

"What's she doing now?"

"She just got married a few weeks ago to a boxing trainer she worked 
out with. The whole family flew out to Las Vegas for the wedding. 
They were talking about coming back here and opening a gym together. 
I can tell you she still hits hard. She gave me a little shot at 
the reception that made me spit my drink out."

"Hmmm. A female boxer marrying her handsome young trainer. What are 
the odds," Cathy said with a wink.

"Why don't we find out?"

"Meet me here, Friday night at eight, and we'll find out."

The next two weeks were a dream come true for Jack. Cathy was 
incredible. He now knew why Sharon's husband Bob looked so damned 
happy all the time. And best of all, she loved boxing. All she 
wanted to talk about was how his father had trained him. She was 
also fascinated with stories about his sister and her various fights. 
Couldn't blame her. There weren't many women around like Sharon. At 
their next workout, she made a request which he had been expecting.

"Hey Jack, how about we try going a few rounds for real? Just like 
you used to do with your sister."

"Well ordinarily, I don't get into that for a few more weeks yet, 
but I've never had a student like you before. I think you're ready. 
I'll set the timer. Just let me know when you want to stop."

Cathy smiled like a shark, "Don't worry, you'll know when I'm done."

The round started off quickly. Jack hit her with several jabs which 
didn't bother her at all. She responded with a few skillful counters 
that got by his guard. Damn she learned fast. Towards the end of the 
round, he hit her with a big right hand that connected solidly with 
her forehead. He stopped for a second.

"You OK Cathy? I didn't hurt you did I?"

Cathy gave him a thumbs up, "Don't worry Jack, I'm tougher than I 
look."

And you look pretty tough, Jack was thinking.

The second round started off even faster. Cathy  matched him 
punch for punch. At the end of the round, he was too busy trying to 
protect himself to go on the offensive.

After the bell sounded, he said, "Come on Cathy, take it easy. You're 
not going for the title here."

"I'll tell you what Jack. One more round. If I win, I get your 
trophy. If you win, you get my trophy."

"What trophy do you have?" Jack asked in a puzzled tone.

"This trophy," Cathy replied, peeling her top off to expose her 
glistening torso.

Jack drew his breath in at the sight.

"OK Cathy. But I've got to warn you, for a trophy like that, I won't 
hold back."

Cathy smiled again, "Neither will I."

The bell for the third round sounded. Jack cautiously circled his 
amazon opponent. She flexed her pects at him making her tits jump   
up and down. He was mesmerized by the display. Her tits jumped 
one last time as she darted in with a right hand that smashed his 
jaw. He was dazed for a few seconds. Cathy followed up with a number 
of punches to his unprotected head. He tried to cover up, and she 
turned her attention to his body. Her fists hammered his midsection. 
He felt his ribs breaking.

"Jesus Cathy, cut it out. I quit."

Cathy didn't stop as she replied, "Don't worry, I'll be finished in a 
minute. Say hello to your sister for me when you wake up."

Jack didn't know what the hell was going on, but he did realize that 
he was now seeing the real Cathy. He desperately tried to wrap her up 
with his arms, but Cathy was too strong. Her short chopping punches 
continued to tear his gut apart. With a vicious head butt, she 
knocked him off of her. He was helpless now as her fists worked his 
head like a speedbag. Finally, he went down. But she wasn't satisfied 
with that. As he pitched forward, she brought her knee up into his 
face breaking his cheekbone.

Looking down at her unconscious opponent, Cathy said, "Looks like I 
get your trophy."

Cathy climbed through the ropes and walked over to the big glass 
display case.

"Lets see now. I don't have a key for this case. Perhaps I could 
break it with one of these dumbbells. But there's no reason to risk 
harming perfectly good exercise equipment. Ah, I know what I can
use."

Cathy walked back to the ring. Grabbing one of Jack's arms, she 
dragged him out and hoisted him up on her shoulder. Jack began to 
stir as she sprinted towards the case. Jack saw the glass rushing 
towards him as he looked up.

"No Cathy, don't!"

When she was five feet away, she stopped and send him flying 
upside-down into the case. Glass shattered as his naked back crashed 
through and cracked against the shelves. He landed head first on the 
hardwood floor and lay still. His skin was covered with lacerations. 
Cathy stepped over his lifeless body and secured her prize.

"Always wanted one of these," Cathy noted as she examined her golden 
bauble.




Lori got off the plane in Vegas and was met by Harry James's 
limousine.

He greeted her as she got in, "Good to see you back Lori. Have a 
good trip?"

Lori unzipped her travel bag and picked up the trophy.

"Great trip. Got everything we wanted."

"Excellent! That should push Sharon right over the edge."

Lori nodded back, "A distracted fighter's easy to beat."



Sharon was having a great time on her honeymoon. Plenty of sand, 
sea, and sun to enjoy while she waited for Bob to recharge his 
batteries. Poor dear was exhausted. As she entered the lobby of 
their hotel, the counterman gave her a message. She frowned as she 
read it. Her youngest brother Jack had been involved in some sort of 
accident. Rushing back to her room, she called the hospital. Jack's 
doctor informed her that he had been assaulted down at the youth 
center while working late one night. A gang had broken in and beat 
him badly. His back was broken. Fortunately, there didn't appear to 
be any damage to his spinal chord. He agreed to patch her through to 
his room.

"Jack, it's Sharon. Are you Ok?"

"Sharon, thank God you got my message. I'll be here for a while, but 
I should be fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"Me? What has this got to do with me?"

"Listen Sharon, I lied to the doctors. There was no gang. I was beat 
by a woman. Beaten in the ring."

"Jesus Jack, that would be almost funny if you weren't hurt so 
badly."

"Listen Sharon, her name was Cathy Jones. She was taking lessons 
from me. But she wasn't what she seemed. She was some kind of 
fighter. Maybe a pro."

Sharon frowned thoughtfully at that last statement.

"How am I involved?"

"We were together for two weeks. Looking back on it, I can see that 
she was pumping me for information about you. Just before she took 
me out, she told me to say hello to you. I could tell she wasn't 
kidding, you're going to be running into her someday."

"What did she look like?"

"You should see her coming a mile away. She's a huge bodybuilder. A 
little shorter than you, but just as heavy. She's also a good 
looking brunette. Watch out, she's a mean fighter."

"Thanks Jack. I don't recognize her, but I'll be on the lookout."

"Maybe you stole her boyfriend in high school and she's been holding 
a grudge."

Sharon managed a chuckle, "Yeah, maybe. Thanks for the warning. You 
leave those nurses alone and get some rest."

Bob came out of the shower and saw Sharon sitting on the bed with a 
serious look on her face. She related the tale to him.

"Have you ever heard of this woman Cathy Jones? Is she on the 
circuit?"

"There's only a couple of women fighting on the circuit, and all of 
them are locals. None of them match the description. But the Board's 
been looking for a female competitor to fight you. She could be new."

"If she's on the circuit, would the Board have anything to do with 
the attack on my brother?"

Bob thought for a moment, "No, the board would never sanction an 
action like that. Mind you, they wouldn't stop it either. Not unless 
it interfered with the business or the sport."

"Then this bitch is probably acting on her own. God help her when I 
get my hands on her."

Bob nodded. He had seen what Sharon could do to a man when she put 
her mind to it. A week later, Sharon and Bob returned to Vegas. When 
they arrived, Bob contacted the Board to arrange Sharon's last fight.
While she was taking a break at the circuits gym, he gave her the 
news.

"Sharon, I just got off the phone with the Board. They have a 
mystery opponent for you next week, a woman named Lori. She's never 
fought on the circuit before. The only thing I could find out was 
that she ripped up Bruno and Benny a couple of weeks ago. Evidently, 
the board was impressed enough to let her have a title shot."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking."

"Make book on it. The description fits, and her manager is James. 
That fucking weasel would have his own mother beat up for a buck. 
I'm also a little bit worried. The Board offered to pay us twice as 
much as your last fight. When they put up that kind of money, they 
expect to get it back in blood."

Sharon flexed her strong hands into fists making her tendons 
crackle. "Don't complain. I was going to fight her for free."


Sharon trained hard that week. The night of the fight, she was wound 
like a spring. Mark drove her to the parking lot of the small 
private arena an hour before the fight. He parked his classic 
Oldsmobile in a spot reserved for them. As they headed for the back 
entrance, a limo pulled up and started to discharge James and his 
entourage. The last person out of the limo was Lori. When Sharon saw 
her, she went right for her. Oh shit, Bob thought. Lori calmly stood 
her ground.

Sticking out her hand, Lori put on a friendly smile. "You must be 
Sharon. I've been looking forward to meeting you. I've heard so much 
about you."

Sharon slapped the proffered hand aside. "Yeah, my brother talks too 
much."

"Why, whatever do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, you fucking bitch. When I'm finished with 
you, I'm going to have you stuffed, mounted, and delivered to his 
hospital room with a red ribbon."

Lori reached into her bag. "Come on now Sharon. There's really no 
reason for bad blood between us. I even brought you a present."

Lori pulled the Golden Gloves trophy out of her bag and proudly 
posed with it. Sharon went nuts and lunged for her. Lori crouched 
and rammed the trophy right into Sharon's bread basket. Sharon 
doubled over with a "Woof" and dropped to the concrete.

"What's the matter Sharon? Is it something you ate?" said Lori 
showing false concern.

Bob rushed to Sharon's side and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Come on Sharon. This isn't the time or the place."

Sharon overcame the pain in her stomach and made an upward lunge 
towards Lori. Lori didn't budge. She just crowned Sharon on top of 
the head with the base of the trophy. Sharon dropped back to the 
oily concrete holding her head and moaning. Bob finally couldn't 
take it anymore. He started to make a lunge of his own, but Lori 
stopped him short by raising the trophy in a threatening manner.

"Jesus, your children are going to be stupid," Lori observed.

Lori disappeared into the doorway with her manager. Bob helped 
Sharon up.

"Are you going to be OK Sharon?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm just afraid that I won't be able to collect 
everything that bitch owes me in one fight."

Sharon and Bob went to her private dressing room. Bob got Sharon an 
ice bag to put on the lump on her head while she rested up. A half 
hour before fight time, Bob started to prepare Sharon. First she got 
dressed in her boxing uniform. A short, tight pair of red and white 
silk boxing shorts with a pair of white socks and boots. Next, Bob 
expertly taped her fists and wrists. He had never done it before, 
but this time he purposely altered the tape pattern to leave the 
surface a little rough. He then applied a light coat of oil to her 
naked upper body. Bob frowned as he noticed Sharon wincing when he 
reached the bruise left by the trophy. Next he applied a little 
vaseline went around her eyebrows, cheekbones, and other thin 
skinned areas where cuts usually started. Finally, Sharon snorted a 
huge dose of decongestant spray into each sinus to ensure that she 
wouldn't have any trouble breathing with her mouthpiece in. With ten 
minutes left, Bob put on a pair of mitts and let her warm up by 
hitting his hands.

"Any last minute advice lover?"

"Watch yourself out there Sharon. Lori's an unknown quantity. I 
tried to find out what I could, but evidently she's done most of her 
fighting in private. She has a history of pulling stunts like she 
did with your brother. She's probably as strong as you. You have a 
slight reach advantage. Use it. I can't imagine she's a better 
boxer. Obviously she went after your brother to piss you off."

"Well, she did a good job of that."

"Just keep your cool out there and box her. She wants you mad. She 
doesn't want you thinking. Just remember what happened in the 
parking lot. You can't let her get to you."

"I'll try, but it'll be tough. I'm madder now than when I found out 
about that asshole drugging me before the Chicago championship 
match. Its worse when somebody fucks with your family."

Bob just nodded. There was really nothing left to say. Sharon could 
be a hothead. He just hoped she wouldn't lose it in the ring.

The small crowd buzzed with anticipation. Seats for the fight had 
sold out within a day of the announcement at twenty five thousand 
each. Patrons could also receive the fight on the Board's private 
satellite channel for a mere ten thousand. But the real revenue was 
derived from gambling. Sharon was a two to one favorite. Literally 
hundreds of millions would change hands tonight with the Board 
taking a large percentage. 

Sharon scanned the ring area as she waited to be announced. The six 
sided ring waited for the combatants. The canvas was clean and new. 
At the end of the night it would be covered with blood and sweat. 
Some of the ringside patrons would enjoy the same treatment.

The rules of tonight's fight were simple. The fight resembled a 
traditional boxing match with three minute rounds followed by one 
minute breaks. A fighter would be declared out with a twenty count. A 
fighter could not be saved by the bell. And of course, a fight had 
to end with a knockout. Fighters could use bare knuckles, taped fists, 
or unpadded leather gloves. The rules were designed to promote a 
brutal spectacle which would leave no doubt about the winner. The 
rules suited Sharon just fine.

The announcer climbed into the center of the ring and spoke into a 
small microphone.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Board is proud to present a very special 
event. Tonight, two women will fight to decide the only true world 
boxing championship. Introducing the challenger, at five feet nine 
inches, and one hundred and sixty eight pounds, in her debut circuit 
match, Lori Jones."

The crowd went wild as Lori climbed into the ring. She flexed her 
seventeen inch biceps for them as she strutted around the ring. She 
wore a gray pair of tight fitting spandex shorts and white boots. A 
thin film of perspiration had formed on her chest making her breasts 
gleam under the bright lights.

"And introducing the current circuit champion, standing five feet 
eleven inches tall, and weighting one hundred and seventy one pounds, 
with an undefeated record of twenty seven wins, no losses, Sharon 
Moore."

Sharon got a thundering response from the crowd as she shed her robe 
and leaped into the ring. Her island tan made her look better than 
ever as she waved to the crowd. It was clear that she hadn't slacked 
off on her training during her recent honeymoon. Sharon had started 
every day with a two mile swim followed by a lap around the small 
island. The hotel maintained a small, but well equipped gym which she 
had used in the afternoon. Bob wouldn't have claimed to be able to 
go two rounds with her, but they would occasionally put on the 
gloves in their room and do a little sparring to keep her sharp. As 
a result, she looked hard and ready with sixteen and a half inch 
biceps. Her C-cup breasts with their fingertip sized nipples 
revealed her excitement.

The first round started slowly. Both fighters seemed content to feel 
each other out. Sharon used her longer reach to score several jabs to 
Lori's face. One particularly good hit opened a small cut above her 
left eye. Lori tried to respond, but Sharon managed to keep her 
distance. At the end of the round, Bob was relieved.

"Good going Sharon. The bitch isn't nearly as good a boxer. If you 
keep it up, she'll be hamburger in five."

Round two started off the same way. Sharon continued to frustrate 
Lori with her superior skill. It wasn't that Lori wasn't an 
excellent boxer, but Sharon was the best. Midway through the round 
Lori decided to test Sharon. Ignoring defense, she stepped in and 
hooked her right into Sharon's washboard stomach. Sharon absorbed 
the full force of the blow without flinching. She then countered 
with a right cross to the jaw which staggered Lori. Lori tried to 
cover up and regain her senses. Sharon took the opportunity to test 
Lori's gut. Three hard shots ripped into her side. Lori's face 
twisted with pain as each punch landed. Lori spent the rest of the 
round dancing around the ring trying to avoid getting caught again.

Back in her corner, Sharon was pleased. Lori was one tough bitch, 
but not tough enough. She wouldn't survive much longer.

Lori was upset. She had never met a fighter like Sharon. Many times 
in the past she had invited the strongest guys in the gym to trade 
gut punches with her. The results had always been the same. She 
would laugh at their pathetic attempt, and then double them over with 
a shot that turned their well trained abs to jelly. But Sharon had 
taken one of her best shots without reacting. And worse, Sharon's 
punches had hurt like hell. If she didn't turn the tables quickly, 
she would be in trouble.

Sharon charged across the ring at the start of round three and 
started to pummel Lori. Lori couldn't take it anymore. Better to go 
out with a bang than a whimper. Putting her head down, she started 
forward swinging. Sharon easily avoided most of the blows and made 
her pay for trying. But one punch landed in exactly the same spot 
that the trophy had connected with earlier. Sharon winced in agony 
and dropped her guard slightly. Lori took advantage of the opening 
and landed a roundhouse on her ear. Sharon tried to back off, but 
misjudged her position and ended up in a corner. Lori followed 
closely looking for another opening, but Sharon knew how to defend 
herself. After trying to get through her guard, Lori decided to make 
her own opening.

"Hey Sharon, I trapped your brother in a corner. He blubbered like a 
baby and begged for mercy just before I broke his back."

The effect was immediate. Sharon foolishly tried smash her with a 
straight right. Even though she was expecting it, Lori barely 
managed to dodge to the side and connect with a crippling punch to 
the ribs. An enraged Sharon twisted around with a roundhouse left. 
Lori ducked and sent a fist crashing into her kidneys. Sharon 
stiffened as if she had been jabbed by a cattle prod. Lori 
straightened up and nailed Sharon's jaw with her rock hard fist. 
Sharon dropped to the canvas.

"Come on Sharon, get up. Your brother lasted longer. You should have 
seen him, he shit himself when I tossed him through that glass. 
There he was, lying in a puddle of blood and shit when I stepped 
over his body and took his trophy."

Sharon should have taken advantage of the long count. She should 
have waited to regain her senses. But at the count of eight, she 
leapt to her feet and made an unsteady lunge at Lori. Sharon got 
within three feet before Lori unleashed a right which broke her 
nose. A left snapped her head to one side, and a right put her down 
again.

"Come on Sharon. I thought you were supposed to be some kind of 
bad ass bitch. Get up and show me what you've got. Or does bleeding 
on the canvas run in the family?"

This time Sharon didn't even hear Lori's insults. She struggled to 
get up, then collapsed back on her face. The count had gotten to 
fifteen before she summoned the strength to try again. More by 
instinct than conscious thought, she got to her feet. The lights were 
spinning around her head. Before Lori could get over and finish her, 
the bell sounded.

"Next round, you'll wish you could trade places with your brother."

Bob grabbed Sharon and guided her onto her stool. He tried to 
divorce himself from his feelings as he expertly evaluated the 
damage. Sharon's nose was broken and her ear was bleeding. Her upper 
lip was split and her right eye was swelling seriously. But what Bob 
was really worried about was the spot where Lori had hit her with 
the trophy. He had suspected that Sharon had been hurt worse than 
she let on. Gently prodding with his fingers, he explored the area. 
Sharon gasped when he touched her about two inches above her belly 
button. Damn, at the very least her abs were seriously bruised. He 
hoped that she hadn't suffered any additional damage to her internal 
organs. Working quickly, he applied a cold compress to the swollen 
areas and worked to close her wounds. In a circuit fight there was 
no concept of "throwing in the towel". He would just have to do his 
best, and rely on Sharon's amazing conditioning and will to see her 
through.

Round four started off rough and got worse for Sharon. Lori sent her 
down in the first ten seconds. After Sharon got up, Lori decided 
that it was time to play. Launching a straight left, she smacked 
Sharon's right breast. A right uppercut sent her left tit flying 
upward. Sharon felt like it had been ripped off. Dropping her hands, 
she tried to cover up. Lori connected with a jab to her broken nose. 
A right hook sent a tit wrapping under her armpit. A left bruised 
her ribs. Lori spent the rest of the round alternating between 
Sharon's tits and face. She couldn't protect both at the same time, 
and Lori enjoyed making her chose. The crowd seemed almost 
as relieved as Sharon at the end of the round.

Bob grabbed his kit and started to work on Sharon's face. She was 
covered with blood, but he was relieved to see that the wounds were 
still fairly superficial.

"How are you doing Sharon?" Bob asked in a concerned voice.

"Better than I look. The bitch made a big mistake. She should have 
finished me when she had the chance. Instead, she spent the last 
round playing with my tits. It hurts like hell, but I've taken 
worse. Next round, she's got a surprise coming."

Lori started the round with a few more tit shots. They were 
beginning to redden and swell quite nicely. If Sharon lasted long 
enough, maybe she could split one like an orange. Maybe not, but it 
would be fun to try. With a vicious uppercut, she tried to burst 
Sharon's left tit like a water balloon. At the last instant, Sharon 
stepped back to avoid the blow. Crouching low she ripped a punch 
into Lori's thin lower abs. Lori hadn't been ready for it, and the 
punch penetrated to her spine. Throwing some more body shots, she 
splintered Lori's ribs and sent her tumbling to the canvas.

"Get up you fucking bitch. I thought you were going to show me what 
you did to my brother."

Lori made it to her feet at the count of eighteen. Sharon waded in. 
With a minute to go in the round, she drove her into a corner.

"So you like to play with other women's tits? Let me try that."

Sharon reached back and delivered a punch so hard that it not only 
ripped up the connective tissue in her breast, it cracked the 
ribcage beneath. Drawing back her left, she sent it rocketing into 
the other breast. Another dozen cruel punches capped off the round. 
Not making the same mistake as Lori, Sharon put her on the canvas 
with a punch to the face which left her to crawl back to her corner 
after the bell.

"Way to go Sharon, you've got the bitch beat now."

"Not yet. I've barely made up for what she's done to me. Now it's 
time to pay her back for my brother."

To her credit, Lori did try. Her massive muscles swelled and her 
chest heaved as she swung wildly at Sharon. Sharon displayed her 
boxing skill by making her miss time after time. Eventually Lori ran 
out of steam. Sharon stepped up to her, put her hands on her sweaty 
breasts, and shoved her.

"Back in your corner bitch."

Sharon punctuated her command with a punch that broke Lori's nose. 
Stepping back, Sharon observed her handiwork. Lori's face was a 
bloody mess. Her body was red and covered with bruises. Her sweaty 
breasts were red and sagging. Taking careful aim, she unleashed 
an uppercut similar to that which Lori had intended for her. Her 
rock hard right fist connected with Lori's swollen left tit where it 
met her meaty pect muscle. Lori's tit literally exploded in a spray 
of blood and fatty tissue as the hundred mile an hour punch tore 
through it. Some of the more squeamish patrons turned away from 
the sight. Lori screamed as she looked down to see the limp bag of 
ripped skin that had once been one of her firm breasts.

"Shut the fuck up bitch and take your medicine."

A roundhouse right ensured that Lori wouldn't be making any more 
noise as her jaw shattered with a crack. An uppercut to the stomach 
doubled her over. Lori would have pitched forward on the canvas 
right then for the twenty count, but Sharon wasn't finished. With 
her hands blurring, she pummeled Lori's ribs and gut with dozens of 
punches that kept Lori propped up in the corner against her will. 
Lori's chest and remaining tit were turned to pulp under the savage 
onslaught. With a final punch over the heart, she let Lori fall to 
the canvas. Sharon stood for a second staring at her fallen 
opponent. Lori was gagging on the canvas, and blood was bubbling out 
of her mouth and nostrils. After a few seconds of stunned silence, 
the crowd burst into wild applause, and Sharon raised her hands in 
victory.



Making her way back to the dressing rooms, Sharon stopped in Lori's 
room to retrieve her brothers trophy. Bob met her back in their room.

"They had Lori carted off in a private ambulance. She might not make 
it."

"She doesn't deserve to make it. But don't worry, I'll see that 
she gets the proper attention."



Back in his hospital room, Jack got a call from Sharon.

"How are you doing Jack? Hope you're feeling better."

"Doctors say I'm doing fine. I should be released in a few more 
weeks. They say that I'll recover fully. But I'm going nuts stuck 
here in this room. How are you doing? You didn't run into Cathy yet 
did you?"

"As a matter of fact I did. We had some minor differences which we 
resolved. By the way, I had a couple of presents delivered. Buzz 
your nurse."

Jack buzzed his nurse. Sharon had been kind enough to hire him a 
private nurse to tend to his needs while he recovered. The pretty 
young blonde came in carrying a box which she handed to him. Opening 
it, he found his trophy.

"Holy shit, how'd you get it back Sharon?"

"Ask the nurse to show you your second present."

Jack asked, and the nurse drew back the divider curtain to reveal a 
new roommate. Cathy/Lori lay in the bed next to his. Her face was 
covered in bandages. Tubes ran into her mouth and nose. Her torso 
was encased in a body cast. Attached to her chest was a big red 
bow.

"Gee sis, just what I wanted. Hoped it wasn't any trouble."

"Hey, for my brother? No trouble at all."



Trapped in her bed, her jaw wired shut, a big fucking red bow in 
front of her face, Lori lay. Sharon's brother and his blonde nurse 
were laughing and taking turns flicking peas at her with a spoon. 
All she could do was think. And her only thoughts were of revenge.
She would recover. She would build herself back to the point where 
she could put her fist through a brick wall. Then she would find 
Sharon and make her pay with her life. A pea bounced off the side of 
her face. Her brother would also pay.


           THE PRIZEFIGHT IV: POLICE WOMAN'S REVENGE
           -----------------------------------------

Susan Kelly had wanted to be a police officer from when she was a 
little girl. So when she was nineteen years old she applied to her 
local police force. It was the late seventies, and though the 
department didn't have any rules against female officers, it did 
maintain a five foot ten inch height requirement. Since Sue was five 
ten and a half, and able to pass all of the other requirements, she 
became the first woman to go through the small city academy.

Being the first woman at the academy, she encountered a lot of 
resistance. Being tall and thin with double-D's and blonde hair 
didn't help. A lot of men wanted her to fail, but none as badly as 
Officer Baily. Baily was the academy's hand to hand combat 
instructor, a hard looking thirty five year old former marine drill 
sargeant who knew every dirty trick in the book. He was also a staunch 
male chauvinist. The first time she met him, Baily called her in 
front of the class and nearly broke her arms demonstrating a number 
of restraining techniques. Nothing she did was good enough for him. 
He rode her constantly, making her do pushups and laps until she was 
ready to collapse. Constantly yelling in her ear to quit. But the 
worst was the boxing.

Every few days, Baily paired the cadets off for boxing practice. 
There were three cadets who were particularly close to Baily. Hall, 
Reese, and Conner were the teachers pets. The first day of boxing, 
Baily took Conner aside for a little chat. He then paired him off 
with her. Sue had never been in a real fight in her life. Conner 
beat her like a dog. She was knocked down five times. Finally she 
couldn't get up anymore. Baily rushed over to berate her.

"What the hell's the matter with you Kelly. Get up. What if your 
partner was in danger? Would you just lie there and get him killed? 
Do your partner a failure and quit!"

Sue just lay there, crying and bleeding, but she didn't quit. Every 
time boxing practice rolled around, Baily would pair her with one of 
his pets for an ass kicking. Of the three, Conner was the worst, he 
was a genuine sadist. One of his favorite targets were her big tits. 
He used to hit them so hard that they often popped out of her bra 
under her T-shirt. At night she used to have to ice her bruised and 
swollen mammaries just to get to sleep. Everyone knew what was going 
on, but nobody said anything, least of all Sue. She was determined 
to finish. She wouldn't let Baily have the satisfaction of making 
her quit.

At the end of her ten week ordeal, lay the final exams. Written 
exams on various aspects of police procedure and the law. Practical 
exams in firearms, physical fitness, and hand to hand combat. Sue 
passed all of the tests easily. That was, all except hand to hand. 
Originally, the hand to hand test consisted of the cadets showing 
mastery of basic police techniques. At the last minute Baily changed 
it to, of course, boxing. Each cadet was supposed to face three 
other cadets for a round of boxing each. To pass, the cadet must 
survive all three rounds. When it was Sue's turn, she wasn't 
surprised that she had to face Hall, Reese, and Conner. Only nine 
minutes of boxing separated Sue from her dream, and by God, she was 
going to make it. Hall and Reese both tried as hard as they could to 
put her down, but if Baily's boxing classes had taught her nothing 
else, she had learned to take a few punches. Finally, nothing stood 
between her and graduation but Conner. Sue smiled in anticipation of 
the match. She knew she couldn't win, but she knew she could last 
another three minutes. And if she got the chance, she was going to 
break Conner's Goddamned nose.

Squaring off with Conner on the mat, they touched gloves. Conner was 
smiling at her as he led off with a roundhouse right to the side of 
her head. Sue crouched, protecting her face with her gloves. Conner's 
punch caught her on the top of her head. It shouldn't have had any 
effect, but the blow staggered her. Conner followed up with a left 
to her thin waist. Despite the fact that she was tensed to take the 
punch, it doubled her over. An uppercut to the face put her down.

"Come on bitch, get up. We've still got another two minutes to play 
before I have to say good-bye," Conner taunted.

As Sue got back on her feet, she realized what was going on. 
Conner's regulation looking sixteen ounce gloves were hard as rocks. 
Baily wasn't taking any chances with her. Sue managed to slip half a 
dozen more punches, while trying to hold Conner off with her weak 
jab. But he ignored her attempts at offense and forced his way 
inside. Using his doctored gloves, he started to pulp her tits with 
major bodyshots. Lowering her arms to protect herself just gave him 
the chance to do a little more damage to her face. With a minute to 
go, Conner launched a left-right combination which sent her tumbling 
to the mat. Baily rushed over.

"Get up Kelly. If you don't finish on your feet you fail," Baily 
yelled.

She got up again. All she could do was cover up and hope for the 
best. But with thirty seconds to go, Conner managed to drive an 
uppercut between her arms into her chin. Blacking out for a second, 
she collapsed on all fours. Again Baily was in her face.

"Fifteen seconds cadet, get up or fail!"

With a monumental effort of will, Sue got to one knee and began to 
stand. But before she could get up, Conner rushed over and drove his 
right hand into her unprotected face. Susan was knocked onto her 
back. She tried to get up, but her badly scrambled brain couldn't 
control her body. Her last memory before she lost consciousness, was 
of Baily leaning over her.

"Cadet Kelly, you have failed your final exam. Now get your ass out 
of my academy, and don't let me ever see you again."

After Sue had been patched up by the academy's doctor, she snuck 
into Baily's office and found Conner's gloves hidden in his desk 
drawer. She took them back to her room where she had been packing 
her bags. Examining the gloves, she noticed that the padded area had 
been cut open. Popping a few crude stitches, she discovered that 
some small lead ingots had been shaped and stuffed between the 
horse hair padding and the outer leather surface. Sue could have 
complained, she could have sued, but that was not her way. Tossing 
the gloves into her suitcase, she closed the lid and quietly left.

Twelve years later, the city had grown. To keep up with the demand 
for new police, the academy had also expanded. Baily was still 
there with a second combat instructor, and the academy was hiring a 
third. When Baily found out it was a woman, he exploded.

"Jesus H., what the hell is this force coming to. Women training 
woman in hand to hand. Are they going use PMS to apprehend suspects?"

"Actually, I was planning on teaching the women how to box."

The two male instructors looked to the door where the new instructor 
was standing. She was dressed as they were, in shorts and a yellow 
instructors T-shirt. She was a tall Nordic looking blonde in her 
late twenties or early thirties. Her exposed quadriceps showed that 
she was no stranger to weights, and the baggy T-shirt couldn't hide 
her D-cup breasts.

"Boxing, what the hell do you know about boxing," sneered Baily.

"Why don't you try me and find out."

"Anytime, anywhere," retorted Baily.

After a few tense days, Baily couldn't take it anymore. The new 
bitch was acting as if she owned the place. He was the senior 
instructor, and she was by God going to hear about it. Catching up 
with her after the last class was dismissed, he stopped her in the 
hall.

"You need a major attitude adjustment Kelly. I'm the senior 
instructor around here, and I dictate what goes and what doesn't."

"If you have a problem with me, lets settle it like men."

"You fucking bitch, you're going to regret that you made me that 
offer. I'll meet you tonight in the gym at Ten. That is, if YOU'RE 
man enough."

That night, Baily unlocked the door and went into the gym. Viewing 
the darkened interior, he smiled. That chicken shit bitch hadn't 
shown up. Too bad, he really would have liked to have kicked her ass. 
As he turned to leave, he nearly bumped into Conner.

"Conner, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I got a message at the precinct to meet you here."

"Well I didn't send you any messages."

"I invited him."

The lights came on in the darkened gym. Baily and Conner wheeled to 
face Kelly. She was standing on the other side of the gym wearing a 
silk robe. Between them, lying on the center mat were two pairs of 
boxing gloves. Sue shed her robe and started towards them.

Baily examined her as she approached. Kelly was wearing a tight 
fitting white tank top and blue gym shorts. She was more muscular 
than he had thought, packing about one hundred and fifty pounds on 
her well toned frame. But he wasn't worried. Some of his chest hairs 
might have turned gray, but he was still strong as a bull. His six 
foot tall body still weighed the same rock hard one ninety that he 
had been in the corps.

By the time they reached the center of the gym, Kelly had her gloves 
on. Picking up the remaining pair, Baily noticed that they were 
unusually heavy.

"What the fuck."

Examining them closer, he noticed that they had been tampered with. 
Sue started to smack her gloved fists together.

"Do you remember those gloves? Do you remember me? Sue Kelly, the 
first female cadet in here."

Recognition flooded Baily's face. "Sue Kelly, the first female failure 
from the academy, but not the last. I saw to that. So you've come 
back for more."

"I've come back to re-take my exam. There was a problem the first 
time. The gloves weren't equal. Now they are. You remember the exam. 
Three rounds. Starting now. I'll start with Conner, if he's up for 
it."

Conner had a smile on his face. "I can't tell you how much I 
missed this. I would have paid to do it."

"Don't worry, you will pay."

Baily tossed Conner the gloves. "Go get her boy."

Conner stripped off his uniform and donned the gloves. He rolled his 
shoulders and flexed a bit at Kelly. He hadn't let himself go to 
seed like many of his fellow officers. He was seriously into 
bodybuilding, and it showed. He was at his offseason weight of two 
hundred and forty pounds. When he was ready, he signaled Baily to 
start the round.

Conner came out swinging. Sue easily avoided his clumsy attacks with 
her superior boxing skills. A minute into the round, Sue went on the 
offensive. Dodging a big right hand, she came up with a straight 
left to the side of Conner's face. As he turned to face her, he was 
caught with a left jab that broke his nose. He backed up for a 
second and saw his own blood dripping onto the mat.

"You fucking bitch!" Conner bellowed as he charged her.

Sue waited until he was nearly on top of her, sidestepped, and 
rammed her hardened glove into his hairy belly. Conner tumbled to 
the mat clutching his stomach. Baily was in his face.

"Goddamnit boy, didn't I teach you anything! Get your ass off the 
mat and take this bitch out!"

Conner struggled to his feet and tried to fight. Sue eased up a bit 
and started to punish him like he had punished her. She continued to 
jab at his face, starting some swelling and opening a few cuts. She 
didn't forget his chest either. Turning her attention lower, she 
slammed the extra-heavy gloves into his nipples.

"Well well, looks like you're taking about a B-cup nowadays. Must be 
the steroids."

At the end of the round, he was a mess. His face was battered and 
bleeding, and more importantly, his chest looked like it had been 
pounded by a meat tenderizer. Baily was in his face chewing him out.

Sue felt good, she was standing across the mat waiting for the 
second round. Her body was warmed up now, and she had a sheen of 
perspiration on her skin. Her D-cups swayed from side to side as she 
shifted her weight from foot to foot, impatiently waiting.

Sue had been planning this moment ever since she left the academy. 
After she had left, she moved to New York and applied there. They 
had been accepting women to their academy for many years and were 
glad to have her. While she was in the city, she had devoted all her 
free time to learning the martial arts. She also forced her way into 
a boxing gym as it's first female member. The guys had given her a 
hard time, but after what she had previously been through, it didn't 
even come close to discouraging her. Eventually she had gained 
acceptance as "one of the guys," and they taught her to box like a 
pro. After about ten years, she moved back into her home city and 
joined the force. They were happy to have an experienced policewoman 
from a big city force. After two years, she saw the opportunity she 
had been waiting for. There was a posting for a hand to hand 
instructor down at the academy. A number of officers applied, but 
none had even close to her qualifications. She was given the job, 
and her chance at revenge.

Baily continued talking to Conner and they were both glancing back 
at her. Sue wasn't worried. She was ready for anything these clowns 
could pull. After giving him a final word of advice, Baily shoved 
Conner in her direction at the start of the round.

Sue met him a left jab, a punch to the spleen, and a roundhouse that 
sent him down to the mat.

"Get up asshole, you're making this too easy for me."

"You heard the lady, boy. Get up," Baily chimed in.

Conner got back to his feet and started to circle her, just out of 
her reach.

"What's the matter Conner, scared of a girl?"

Sue saw Conner smile again, but he was looking past her. What!? 
Baily lunged at her from behind and applied a full nelson. She tried 
to heel kick him in the groin, but Conner rushed in and grabbed her 
feet. Sue struggled, but both men were large and strong. She was at 
their mercy.

Conner had managed to grab both of her feet and free one of his 
arms. Hooking his hand between her breasts, he ripped her flimsy 
tank top off with a yank of his massive arm. Sue's breasts danced in 
her bra as she struggled against them.

"Damn, those puppies look better than I remember. Maybe we'll have a 
little fun after I soften them up a bit."

Sue was in a frenzy now, but two right hands from Conner had her 
seeing stars. Conner let go of her feet and went to work. He drove 
his right hand into her belly. Her body wanted to fold, but Baily 
still held her tightly. Next a straight left crashed into her right 
breast. A right uppercut popped her left tit out of it's bra cup. 
Memories of pain and humiliation flooded back, and she started 
screaming. This just made Conner and Baily start laughing. 

"Doesn't look like you're going to pass your re-take Kelly. You 
should have stayed away," Baily gloated.

Conner punched her tits as if he was working out on a pair of speed 
bags. The hardened gloves made sick smacking sounds as they bit into 
her soft flesh and threatened to rip her tits out. After making her 
suffer for over a minute, Conner finished her off with a left-right 
combination which nearly took her head off. Baily dropped her to the 
mat. Sue was sobbing and holding her bruised and swollen breasts. 
Conner and Baily were standing over her.

"Too bad, you had a nice rack, but you'd be lucky to get the 
centerfold of National Geographic now," said Conner.

"Come on boy, it's Miller time, and I'm buying."

Conner picked up his shirt, and they started for the door. But 
before they were halfway there, Conner received a pair of savage 
blows to the kidneys which put him on his knees squealing like a 
pig. A punch to the back of head silenced him as he collapsed to the 
floor face first. Sue was standing over the body glaring at Baily.

"You should remember that I don't give up that easily. I believe we 
still have one round to go."

Baily was never one to back down from a challenge. He calmly pulled 
his shirt off and picked up the gloves. 

"Conner didn't know shit about boxing. You think you're going to 
beat me with a few fancy moves. I'm going to punch your tits flat 
bitch."

Kelly waited for Baily to move in on her. She tried the jabs that 
had worked earlier against Conner, but Baily just caught them on his 
gloves. He then faked a jab for her head, lunged and caught her 
in the ribs with a right. Sue huffed as the air was knocked out of 
her. Baily wasn't bragging, he was good, but not good enough. Sue 
ducked his follow-up, and straightened up with an uppercut to the 
jaw. Baily's head snapped back. Sue brought her hand back and sent 
it smashing into his mouth. Baily fell backwards on his ass. The 
leaden gloves had started blood flowing from split lips.

"Get up Baily, rounds not over yet."

Baily got back up and raised his gloved hands. Sue accepted the 
invitation, but just as she got into range, Baily twisted and sent a 
booted foot into her midsection. Sue folded on the mat. Baily walked 
around to her side and sent his boot crashing into her sore left 
tit. The force of the kick rolled her onto her back. Baily stood 
next to her and raised his booted foot above her chest.

"Say good-bye to your tits bitch."

Sue barely managed to roll out from under his stomp. Lashing out 
with a leg, she swept him off his feet. Drawing back both feet, she 
sent them flying into the side of his head. Getting back up, she 
took stock of the damage. There wasn't a part of her body that 
wasn't battered from the waist up, but she could take the pain. The 
only thing that really worried her was the pain in her side where 
she had been kicked. No doubt he had cracked a few of her ribs. Baily 
was starting to stir.

"Get up you dickless worm. You've got more to answer for."

Baily got up. Sue waded into him throwing leather. Baily was 
helpless before her fury. Blood was splattering all over the mat 
making it look like the floor of a slaughterhouse. Ripping shots 
into his unprotected body, she heard the satisfying sound of bone 
breaking. Baily tried one last desperate move. Tying up her arms, he 
tried to knee her in the groin. Sue twisted, and the blow thudded 
painfully into her hip bone. Pushing Baily away, she returned the 
favor. Summoning all her strength, she crouched, and sent an 
uppercut between his legs. The leaded gloves cracked the plastic of 
his protective cup and smashed his balls like dropping an iron on a 
pair of plums. Baily fell on his side and curled into a fetal 
position crying.

"Jesus, I think you broke them. You broke my fucking balls."

Sue got on her knees and grabbed his jaw.

Turning his head to face her she said, "Now you have some idea of 
what you put me through twelve years ago. It's just too bad that I 
can't pay you back with interest. Now I want to know how I did on 
the test."

"You fucking bitch, I'm going to kill you."

Sue jammed a glove between his legs and applied some pressure. Baily 
cried out in agony.

Releasing the pressure, she said, "What was that? I must have heard 
you wrong."

Managing to get some breath back, he gasped, "You passed, you made 
the three rounds."

"And who's the better boxer, who lost?"

Baily needed another little squeeze to encourage him to speak.

"You win, you're the better boxer, you kicked my ass, you broke my 
fucking balls," he cried.

"Let me tell you how it's going to be. You're going to resign 
tomorrow. If you don't, I'm going to kick your ass in front of every 
class that comes through here. You know I can, don't you?"

"Y-yes, I'll resign tomorrow. Please call me an ambulance, please."

Sue got up and took off her gloves. Baily curled up a little more as 
she dropped them in his lap.

"I won't be needing these any more. Now it's your turn to keep them 
as a souvenir."

Sue put her robe back on and started towards the door. Conner was 
just getting up. Evidently, he had seen some of what had transpired, 
because he moved to get out of her way. Walking directly towards 
him, she opened her robe to display her battle scarred breasts.

"Touch them. Don't be afraid. Touch them now."

Conner's trembling hands reached out towards her tits. When they 
were an inch away, Sue cut loose with a savage right hand which 
broke a few teeth and sent him back to the floor.

"In your dreams, asshole."

Stepping over his body, she left the gym. Despite the agonizing 
pain, she felt better than she had in twelve years. She had passed 
the test and erased the one black mark on her slate. And kicking the 
shit out of a couple of loud mouthed assholes like Baily and Conner 
just sweetened the deal.




           THE PRIZEFIGHT X: Consolation Prize
           -----------------------------------

I was standing in my corner in a boxing ring. My opponent waited 
opposite me for the bell to sound. She was a young beautiful temp 
named Jane who worked in the sales office at the company where I was 
employed as a programmer. Working my corner was Rose, a mid-twenties 
sales rep built like a linebacker with big American breasts. Working 
Jane's corner was Diane, a good looking young blonde who worked as 
my assistant, and the one person I blamed most for my current 
predicament. Worst of all, Samantha was the referee. I had been
looking for a chance with her from the first moment I saw her. A 
slender girl with chestnut brown hair and a smile which would light 
up a room, I would have done anything for her. How the hell did I get 
myself in this mess?

It had started when my boss had added Diane to his staff. She was 
assigned to help me out with my duties while she learned the ropes. 
Unfortunately, I was Joe Company at the time, and she was just a 
girl who wanted to have fun. Even though we liked each other, there 
was always a bit of friction and competition between us. That 
morning I had been minding my own business passing through the sales 
office on my way to the computer room. As always, I passed by Sam's 
cubicle to say hello. Sam wasn't alone. Diane, Rose, and Jane were 
all hanging around having their morning coffee. When Diane spotted 
me, she smiled and waved me over. I was instantly suspicious.

"Hey JD, we need a man's opinion on something and your the closest 
thing we've got," said Diane.

Sam snickered at the her little joke.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Jane here just took up boxing. She was telling us that within a few 
years women are going to be able to compete with men at the 
professional level. What do you think?"

I looked around at the women for a hint of how to answer such a 
potentially loaded question. Receiving no clue, I decided to answer 
seriously.

"I tend to doubt it. Given a man's superior strength and heavier 
build, I wouldn't think that too many women could be competitive, 
even if they were allowed to try. I think that a woman's champion 
could probably beat some lower ranked men, but that would be the 
exception."

I scanned the girl's faces for their reactions. Sam and Rose were 
looking at Jane. Jane wasn't looking pleased. Diane was looking like 
the cat who swallowed the canary.

"Well I bet Jane could beat you. She's been working out hard lately, 
preparing to fight in some amateur boughts," replied Diane.

"Oh come on now Diane. I've got at least sixty pounds on Jane. It 
wouldn't be fair."

Jane spoke up, "Boxing isn't just about size and strength. It 
requires a lot of skill and stamina as well. Besides, I'm stronger 
than I look."

Jane was wearing a sleeveless blouse. Raising one of her arms, she 
flexed. A well defined bicep leapt to attention. I would have 
never thought that Jane was packing a muscle like that. I was 
impressed.

"Not bad Jane. But it still doesn't make up for the size difference."

Diane jumped in, "Why don't we do a little experiment? How about the 
two of you arm wrestle?"

"Sure, I think I'll be OK, even though I'm just a weak little girl," 
answered Jane.

Before I had a chance to respond, Diane was pushing me into a chair 
across the table from Jane. Jane raised her arm and I had no choice 
but to accept the challenge. Sam and Rose looked on excitedly as 
Diane positioned our grip. This wasn't difficult because we were 
about the same height. I'm five eleven and Jane's an exceptionally 
tall girl at six feet. 

Jane's slender hand felt stronger than I would have guessed. Diane 
shouted "go" and released our hands to start the match. I didn't 
jump on her because I didn't want to be blamed for hurting Jane. But 
as I increased the pressure, I was amazed to find that Jane's arm 
wasn't moving.

Diane didn't waste the opportunity to get in a jab.

"Come on Jerry, you can start now."

Looking at the amazed expression on Sam's face, I suddenly felt 
embarrassed and doubled my efforts. Jane's confident expression 
quickly faded as I started to stretch her bicep out. She struggled 
like an animal as I slowly drove her arm to the table. A sheen of 
perspiration appeared on her forehead as I finally managed to touch 
her hand to the table. God she was strong. Trying to act like 
it hadn't been hard at all, I shook Jane's hand and complemented her 
on her strength. I probably could have walked away at that moment 
without another worry if it hadn't been for Diane.

"What's that I see trickling down the side of your face? Sweating 
are we?"

Pouncing on me, Diane dabbed a finger just under my hairline and 
displayed the evidence of my effort to the assembled girls.

"Looks like you might have strained yourself a bit. Better not try 
boxing her. Jane would probably kill you."

My male hackles were raised at the accusation.

"Hey, I've never boxed in my life. I'm sure that if we were the same 
size, she'd clean my clock. But the fact is, I'm bigger and 
stronger, and like it or not, that counts for something."

"Why don't you drop in at my gym tonight and we'll test that theory?"
challenged Jane.

"Yeah Jerry, prove it," chimed in Diane.

I was relieved when Rose said, "Hey why don't leave him alone. 
Jerry's got nothing to prove."

But then Sam had to say, "Hey Jerry, if you beat Jane, I'll go out 
with you."

I didn't really want any part of this, but Samantha's offer was to
good to pass up. Before she could say she was teasing, I accepted.

"OK, you're on."

Jane didn't seem a bit worried as she gave me directions to her gym. 
My head was spinning the rest of the day. What the hell had I got 
myself into? I probably could have gotten to Sam eventually. What 
kind of fucked up situation was I in? I would have liked to back 
down, but I knew that Diane and Jane wouldn't let me.

I arrived at the gym at eight. Jane was showing the girls how she 
used the speed bag. If I had known better, I would have been worried 
at the show she put on. Her hands kept going faster and faster until 
they were a blur. With a final flourish, she left the bag swinging 
with a final right cross.

"On time as always," Diane noted.

"I'm surprised you managed to make it."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world," Diane replied.

Looking around, I noticed that the small one ring gym was empty 
except for us.

"Where is everyone?"

"We got lucky, our teams out at a competition. I would have gone 
with them to watch, but then this came up. The dressing room's over 
there. Why don't you get changed."



So that's how I found myself in this situation. Women will do it to 
you every time. Jane was looking good in a tank top and shorts. She 
looked a bit like a toned Elle MacPherson. I was dressed in a 
T-shirt and shorts. We were both wearing head protectors and 
oversized gloves. Without much consultation from me, the girls had 
decided on two minute rounds with one minute breaks. There would be 
no round limit. We would box until one of us was knocked out or gave 
up. The way I looked at it, it was a no win situation. If I bailed 
out of the fight, Diane would hold it over me until the day I died. 
If I knocked Jane out, Sam would probably blame me for hurting her. 
I didn't even want to think about what would happen in the unlikely 
event that I lost.

Diane sounded the bell and Jane darted out of her corner. Moving 
quickly on the balls of her feet, she met me on my side of the ring. 
Before I could think, my face was stinging from a pair of jabs. I 
raised my arms to cover my face and was rewarded with a hard right 
to the gut which knocked the wind out of me. Lowering my guard, I 
was met by a straight left to the nose that hurt like hell. I was 
starting to get pissed. A right cross made me forget I was fighting 
a girl. I lashed out with a roundhouse right which she easily 
ducked. Her left crashed painfully into my kidney. I went berserk. 
Wildly throwing lefts and rights, I drove Jane around the ring. But 
she kept slipping my punches. When I did score, it was on her 
gloves. Every once in a while, Jane would come out of her crouch to 
take advantage of my lack of caution. Towards the end of the round, 
she managed to catch me flush on the nose again. As the bell 
sounded, I could feel a trickle of blood.

"You ready to give up Jerry?" Diane asked in a condescending voice.

"How the hell am I supposed to do anything with these gloves? I 
can't win if Jane can hide behind them all night."

Jane was pissed now, "You think you can do better with smaller 
gloves? Fine. Diane, go get us a couple of pairs of those brown 
gloves."

Jane peeled her headgear off as Diane went to get the gloves. I was 
surprised though when she took her top off. She was wearing a tight 
sports bra which tightly squashed her small breasts against her chest 
forming a nice little cleavage. 

"I thought you didn't need any protection."

Mirroring her actions, I took off my gloves, headgear, and shirt. I 
felt a bit self conscious standing in front of the girls nearly 
naked. I didn't have a bad body. I was naturally muscular with broad 
shoulders, but I was embarrassed to display the beer gut which I had 
been meaning to deal with for years. Rose helped me put on the 
smaller gloves, which I would later find out were six ounce bag 
gloves.

Diane started round two. I was feeling more confident that I could 
win. I figured that I would take a few shots, but now I would be 
able to use my superior strength to connect with a fight ending 
punch. I was right about taking the shots. Jane fed me knuckle 
sandwich. The thinner gloves made her small fists feel like mallet 
strikes on my face. With a flurry of short punches, I drove her back 
to the ropes. She crouched and held her gloves so that I still 
couldn't hit her face, but the small gloves let me get between her 
elbows into her stomach. Putting my full two hundred pounds into it, 
I drove my right into her navel. My fist crashed onto to her skin 
solidly for the first time. Her whole body was driven six inches 
into the ropes. But as she rebounded, she looked up to show me that 
my punch had no effect. I was too shocked to react as she responded 
with a short left which snapped my head back. A right cross sent me 
crashing to the canvas. Things went black for a second, and then I 
heard Sam counting "three". My head was spinning as I got to my feet 
by the count of six. Jane moved back in and started to jab me in the 
face. She actually had a slightly longer reach than I did, so I had 
no chance of responding. By the time the bell rang, my face was 
red and starting to swell. 

Rose tried to help me as I sat gasping in my corner. It hurt like 
hell as she poked my face for serious injuries. But the worst thing 
was the look of concern on Sam's face as she bent over to talk to me.

"You aren't looking too good Jerry, maybe you should quit."

Looking past her concerned face, I could see right down her blouse. 
Her perfect C-cups were swinging three feet in front of my face. 
What else could I say?

"I'm fine. It looks a lot worse than it is."

Sam didn't seem totally convinced, but she left me alone. I was 
already tired by the start of round three. Jane had a thin sheen of 
sweat on her tanned body, but she wasn't even breathing hard. I knew 
that I had one last chance to do anything. As Jane got into range, I 
sprinted forward and rocketed my fists towards her face. She was 
surprised a bit by my attack, and I managed to catch her on the 
forehead with my first punch before she had a chance to raise her 
gloves. My second blow caught her glove and drove it into her face. 
My third caught her painfully on the forearm. But that was all I 
was going to get. Recovering quickly, she backed away from me. I 
pursued her for another thirty seconds, but didn't land another 
solid punch. Finally, I couldn't continue. With over a minute left 
in the round, I was done and we both knew it. I raised my gloves and 
started backing away as Jane lowered hers. A flickering left hand 
herded me into a corner. Knowing what was coming, I tensed my abs. 
Jane's first blow smacked into my stomach with a hollow smack. 
Trapped in the corner, there was no place to hide. Crouched as I 
was, I had a perfect view of Jane's fists and arms as they smashed 
my aching gut. Her muscles and tendons stretched like rubber bands as 
she reached back before releasing each punch. Knowing I couldn't 
take anymore, I tried to hit her with a right. She must have been 
expecting something, because she easily bobbed to the side causing 
me to miss. With a wicked left to the face, she sent me down again. 

Sam stood over me counting. If I had been fighting a man in front of 
men, I would have given up a long time ago. But I didn't have that 
option. I struggled to my feet at the count of nine. Before Jane 
could reach me again, the bell sounded. I flopped in my corner. 
Since Jane didn't need any help, Diane was free to visit me.

"What a mess. You don't look so tough. I'll bet I could take you 
myself," Diane said as she flicked some punches in front of my face.

"Go ahead and try," I snapped, still remembering who put me in this 
situation.

"I think I will," Diane replied.

Diane called Sam over into Jane's corner and they had a quick 
consultation. Jane removed her gloves and handed them to Diane. Sam 
returned to the center of the ring and Jane stepped out. I was 
feeling better. Against Jane I had no chance. Now I had an opponent 
who didn't know how to box and whom I wouldn't mind decking. Diane 
was about five seven, one thirty. She played some softball, but 
otherwise was no athlete.

Jane rang the bell for round four. Diane came charging across to my 
corner. Taking out my frustrations on her, I met her with a straight 
right which flipped her onto her back with a bloody nose. Everyone 
looked stunned for a moment. I half expected Diane to break out 
crying. Instead she lay still for a moment. Sam was about to ask her 
if she was OK, but before she could ask, Diane exploded to her feet.

"You asshole, I'm going to kick the shit out of you," she screamed.

Diane started swinging wildly with her fists. I managed to block 
most of her blows with my arms, but some were getting through. A 
wild right hook caught me painfully on the ear ringing my bell. My 
arms dropped for a moment. Diane saw the opportunity and took a 
second to wind up and aim a right for the center of my face. I would 
later learn that Diane led her team in home runs, but I could have 
figured that out by the way she hit me. I stood there stupidly for a 
second giving her the chance to hit me twice more before I pitched
forward to the canvas. I couldn't move as Diane stood over me yelling
in my ear.

"Get up JD! I'm not finished yet. Get up you sorry sack of shit!"

Jane jumped through the ropes and pulled Diane away from me as I 
feebly rolled onto my stomach. As I continued to struggle, I saw 
that Jane and Diane were arguing something with Sam. Getting to my 
knees, I crawled to my corner and let Rose help me onto my stool. 
Rose moved in front of me to clean me up a bit. My view of the other 
girls was blocked for a couple of minutes while she worked. When she 
moved aside, I saw either my most erotic fantasy or my worst 
nightmare. Sam was standing across from me wearing the gloves. She 
had shed her blouse and was wearing nothing but a small white lacy 
bra and short skirt.

Looking over at me, Diane said, "Sam wants a turn."

I was going to protest, but the sight of Sam's model perfect body
combined with my stupor caused me to stand. Jane rang the bell and 
Sam approached me tentatively. Sam was about five eight, one hundred 
ten pounds. She looked uncomfortable as she jabbed me lightly in the 
face with her slender arms. But as she continued to hit me her 
expression changed. She started hitting stronger and faster. I 
raised my arms to protect my face and she switched to my body. Jane 
and Diane hooted with delight.

"Come on Sam, put him down."

"I can't believe you were going to go out with him."

Sam wasn't big or muscular, but she was young and strong, and I was 
on my last legs. I watched helplessly as Sam's delicate wrists 
hooked into my belly. I couldn't help but to notice a small patch of 
wetness forming in her creamy white cleavage as she savagely beat 
me. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her to get her to stop. 
We stood there for a moment. I could feel her round breasts squashed 
against my sweaty chest as I wrapped her naked back with my arms. 
Even under these circumstances, I felt myself getting aroused. But 
Sam wasn't done yet. With a strong shove, she pushed me back onto 
the ropes. Unfortunately, my glove caught on her bra and unhooked 
it. Sam's lovely tits seemed to appreciate their release more than 
she did. They sprang apart and jiggled as only twenty two year old 
breasts can. Her nipples were incredible. They were pink and hard, 
and protruded nearly an inch. I only had a second to appreciate all 
of this before she reacted.

"You fucking bastard."

Before I could explain that it was an accident, Sam was all over me. 
She must have had some natural talent, because she took me apart 
like a pro. Her left fist caught me in the right eye as I ogled her 
chest. Her right cracked me in the jaw. Another dozen punches struck 
me in the face opening up my cuts and causing new ones. I saw my 
blood splattering across her chest as my head was snapped around. 
Winding up with another right, she hit me in the mouth with a punch 
that sent my bloody mouthpiece flying across the ring. I started to 
stumble. As I went down, I grabbed onto her shoulders to break my 
fall. My head buried itself between her beautiful warm breasts. I 
could barely see it coming as Sam grabbed my hair with her left hand 
and yanked my head back. Drawing her right hand back, she hammered 
me into unconsciousness.

I never returned to work, and I had to move. But there was one 
consolation. When I came to, I was in the gym's shower being held up
under the spray by Rose's naked body. Later, she took me back to her 
place. Not only did she patch up my wounds, she also helped me patch 
up my male ego. Seems that not everyone minds a loser.

As for Jane, she went on to win the city's first female golden 
gloves championship along with her new teammates, Sam and Diane. The 
last I heard, they were suing for professional female boxing in the 
state. Knowing Jane, I knew nothing would stop her until she had 
achieved her dream of beating a male in a pro fight. Until then, I was
saving up to bet against him.   


           THE PRIZEFIGHT XI: Sharon KO's Japan
           ------------------------------------

Sharon and her husband Bob surveyed their hotel suite just five 
minutes from downtown Tokyo. Small by American standards, it was 
positively extravagant by local standards. Seeing that the suite 
contained a jacuzzi, Bob helped Sharon off with her clothes and then 
stripped to join her.

As they relaxed in the steaming waters, Bob marveled again at his 
luck as he wrapped his arm around Sharon's broad shoulders. Sharon 
was a large woman, five eleven, one seventy. She was heavily muscled 
and sported arms that were almost seventeen inches around. But she 
didn't just look good, she could also perform. Sharon could usually 
out bench press all but the largest men in the gym. Pound for pound 
she was always the strongest. But Sharon wasn't just a muscle queen, 
she could also beat most runners in a 10k race. She was perhaps the 
finest athlete in the world, participating in a sport which did not 
tolerate any weakness. Sharon was a boxer.

Sharon had learned her trade from her father, a former Golden Gloves 
champion, and a man who truly loved the sport. Sharon had also 
gained a love for the sport, but was frustrated by the lack of 
opportunities for women fighters. So when Sharon had been 
recruited for the Circuit, she eagerly accepted. Circuit fights were 
brutal bare knuckled affairs which brought boxing back to its 
roots. Sharon thrived on the competition, and within a few years 
managed to beat former heavyweight boxing champ Matt Dyson for the 
Circuit championship. She had defended her title a number of times 
since, culminating in a bloody grudge fight between her and fellow 
female boxer Lori. 

After her successful title defense against Lori, Sharon had 
relinquished the title and went into semi-retirement. She now only 
fought in occasional exhibition matches. Despite a seven figure 
minimum purse, there were no lack of patrons around the world 
willing to pay to see her fight. So when the Japanese equivalent of 
the circuit had contacted her and had offered her ten times more 
than her usual price, she had eagerly accepted.

Bob considered their position as he watched the swirling waters 
relax the dark nipples on Sharon's firm C-cup breasts. The Japanese 
had been practicing the martial arts for thousands of years. As her 
trainer, Bob had hired the some of the best martial artists in the 
states to prepare Sharon for this contest. He hoped that it would be 
enough.

Sharon and Bob stayed at the hotel for four days to overcome their 
jet lag. On the fourth night, a Mercedes arrived at the hotel 
entrance to take them to a small private arena built under one of 
the city's largest skyscrapers. They were led to a small dressing 
room where Bob would help Sharon prepare for the coming contest. The 
contest would take place on two nights. Tonight Sharon would face 
three martial artists in a series of short contests. Two nights from 
now, she would face their champion.

Sharon was led out to the center of the arena. The small, exclusively 
male audience of wealthy Japanese businessmen cheered as Sharon 
stepped onto the raised circular fighting platform. They went wild 
as Bob stripped off Sharon's robe to reveal her uniform. Sharon was 
wearing a red silk karate gi which clung to her body. Her oiled 
chest and muscular cleavage were on display through the open front 
as she waved to the crowd. The thin fabric also did nothing to hide 
her conspicuously large nipples. 

Sharon's first opponent was brought out. A short broad man built 
like a barrel and wearing a traditional judo gi, he was supposed to 
be a former Olympic medalist. The announcements were made and the two 
opponents began to circle each other. Sharon flicked a cautious jab 
at the man's head. Lightning quick, the judo master darted in, 
grabbed her wrist, and slammed her to the mat. Sharon felt a bolt of 
pain in her shoulder as she landed. An average man would have 
suffered a dislocated shoulder. The master drew his hand back and 
launched a palm strike at Sharon's face. But before his hand had 
traveled an inch, he felt it stop dead as Sharon caught it with her 
free hand.

"Not today pal," Sharon admonished as she sent him rolling off of 
her with a kick to the shoulder.

The crowd applauded their approval at the first exchange as both 
fighters rolled to their feet and faced off again. She again led off 
with a jab which he easily avoided. Stepping in, she swung a big 
right at his head. The master spun in and grabbed her shoulder to 
administer an arm drag. But as his hands grasped her rock hard 
deltoid and he dropped to slam her again, he felt his feet lift 
slightly from the canvas as Sharon stiffened. Fear showed in his 
eyes as she used her right hand to grab the back of his collar in an 
unbreakable grip.

"Say goodnight Gracie," Sharon quipped as she sent her left fist 
smashing into the man's midsection.

She connected five more times with her left hand as she held him 
with her right. With a paralyzing pair of kidney shots, she released 
him to drop to the canvas. As the judo master lay moaning in a fetal 
ball, Sharon politely bowed to the stunned audience. As she 
straightened back up, they broke into thunderous applause.

"Nice job kid. Looks like you won some fans." Bob greeted her as she 
returned to the edge of the platform.

"Sorry I couldn't make it last for more than thirty seconds. Hope 
they feel they're getting their money's worth."

Further announcements were made in Japanese, and Sharon stepped back 
onto the platform to face her next opponent. He was a small lean 
Chinese man, about five seven, one forty. He was a kung fu master 
reputed to be the re-incarnation of Bruce Li. The fighters bowed to 
each other and took their stances. Too fast to see, the man whipped a 
backfist into Sharon's nose causing her to take a step backward. The 
crowd applauded the display. Sharon shook her head and stepped 
forward. Again, the man's fist flashed out and smacked her in the 
nose. The crowd applauded louder as they observed a trickle of blood 
from one of her nostrils. Sharon wiped her nose on the back of her 
wrist. Glancing down she saw the redness. Looking back, she saw a 
smug look on her opponent's face. He invited her to engage him again 
with a hand motion. Sharon stepped forward to face him for a third 
time. His fist flashed again. There was a load crack and the man's 
head snapped back. He was caught frozen for a moment, his own fist 
an inch from Sharon's face. He struggled to stay on his feet,
then fell backwards on his ass with a split lip and a bloody 
nose. The crowd cheered Sharon's superior speed and laughed at the 
man's position. He sat for a few seconds, his face turning beet red. 
He then flashed to his feet and started to yell. Every muscle and 
tendon in his body looked ready to exploded as he stood trembling in 
rage. Screaming with a higher pitch, he launched himself through the 
air at Sharon. His yell abruptly ended with a "huuumph!" as Sharon 
sidestepped and impaled him in midair on her right fist. Using her 
greater momentum, she continued forward, and then drove him straight 
to the ground, so that she ended up in a kneeling position with her 
fist pinning his doubled up form to the canvas. To the assembled 
crowd, it appeared that Sharon's fist must have punched through his 
stomach into the platform beneath. She stood up and raised her fists 
in victory as her opponent clutched his scrawny chest and wheezed on 
the mat, trying to draw a breath of air. The crowd burst into 
applause as Sharon posed for them. As she started to return to Bob, 
she heard a croaking yell behind her. Wheeling around, she delivered a 
backhand slap to the little man who was about to attack from behind. 
The slap nearly ripped his head off, and he was spun one hundred and 
eighty degrees to land on his face. A pair of attendants ran out and 
began to drag the stunned man off the platform before he could 
disgrace himself any further.

"Damn good of you to let him get in a couple of shots before you 
took him out," Bob observed.

"Can't make it look too easy. They might want a refund."

"Looks like they're bringing out your third opponent. Holy shit!"

Sharon glanced over her shoulder to where Bob was looking and did a 
double take. Approaching the platform was a sumo wrestler who was 
over six feet tall and weighed almost five hundred pounds. 

Seeing Sharon's reaction, Bob said, "Remember, the bigger they are, 
the harder they fall."

"In that case, maybe you'd like to handle this one, Bob."

"That's OK honey. I wouldn't want to interrupt you while you're 
on a roll."

Sharon stepped back onto the platform and bowed to her final 
opponent of the night. Opposite her, the sumo giant returned her bow 
and began to stamp his feet. Sharon felt the whole platform shake as 
each of his feet came down. As she approached the center, the 
wrestler charged. Sharon stood her ground and tried to connect with 
a right to his jaw. Before she could launch the blow, his immense 
belly loomed at her like a truck threatening to bowl her over. 
She put out her hands in a futile attempt to stop him. As she was 
swept backwards by his rushing body, he started to slap at her head. 
The wrestler's ham like hands smacked her around like a rag doll. 
Desperately, Sharon dived under one of his swings and rolled to her 
feet. The wrestler needed a moment to stop and turn again to face 
her. As he charged again, Sharon ducked under his arm and buried 
her fist in his flabby side. Her hand disappeared to the wrist, then 
popped back out as if she had hit a huge block of soft rubber. One 
look at his face showed that he hadn't felt anything either. Ducking 
a responding swing, she straightened up and delivered a left-right 
combination to his fat belly. She swore her fist got caught in his 
belly button for a second, giving him a chance to slap her again on 
the side of the head with a blow that sent her skidding sideways. 

Sharon was seeing stars. She barely got up in time to avoid his 
next rush. The crowd booed as she danced to avoid her fat opponent 
while she tried to formulate a strategy. It was like fighting the 
Pillsbury Dough Boy. No doubt she could continue to dance around him 
for another minute until he collapsed with a heart attack, but that 
wouldn't satisfy either the crowd or herself. Ducking another swing, 
she saw an opening. Stepping behind him, she smashed him on the base 
of the neck with a pair of hammer fists. The wrestler shook his huge 
head as she delivered two more blows that staggered him. Moving back 
in front of him, she started to punch him in the face with a series of 
straight rights which could have felled an ox. She backed off for a 
second as he appeared to wobble on his feet. Getting trapped under 
his falling body wouldn't be a very dignified way to win. But 
instead of falling, he suddenly snapped to attention and swept her 
up in a crushing bear hug. Sharon tried to break his grip by pushing 
against his blubbery shoulders, but it only served to increase the 
crushing pressure on her lower back. Her breasts were forced upward 
on the slope of his fat sweaty belly to rest almost nipple to nipple 
against his. She noted without satisfaction that his were bigger, but 
hers were firmer. Placing her hands on his forearms, she pushed 
downwards to force her thin waist through his grip. When she had 
raised herself sufficiently, she started to rock his head with 
roundhouse punches. She nearly passed out as he clenched up with pain. 
With a titanic right, she loosened his grip, and caused him to drop 
her. Not about to give him a second chance, she continued to hammer 
him as long as he stood. After hitting him enough to put down a 
dozen men, she stepped back a moment. Looking into the sumo's eyes, 
she could see that he was out on his feet. Pausing for effect, she 
placed her hands on his belly and pushed. She swore the whole arena 
shook as he landed on his back with a crash.

The crowd went wild as they cheered the sight of a woman defeating a 
man three times her size. After posing for the crowd, she was 
accompanied by Bob back to her private dressing room.

"Are you OK Sharon?" Bob asked as he probed Sharon's rock hard 
midsection.

Sharon winced as she replied, "Bruised a bit maybe, but I don't 
think there's any internal damage. At least you can't say they 
didn't get their money's worth on that one."

"I'm going to ask the promoters to delay the main event 
two weeks to give you time to recover. After your performance 
tonight, I don't think they'll mind."

"You don't hear me complaining," Sharon replied as Bob led her into 
the shower.

The promoters had been delighted by Sharon's performance, and were 
more than happy to grant Bob's request. The extra time would also 
allow them more time to cash in on the worldwide interest in the fight. 
On the night before the main event, Sharon and Bob were doing a little 
work in a small private gym in their hotel. The gym was less than 
twenty feet square, but fairly well equipped. Bob was holding the 
heavy bag for Sharon as she put honed her skills. Sharon was wearing 
black jogging pants and a light pink tank top which clung to her sweaty 
upper torso.

"Come on Sharon, put him away," Bob coaxed as she pounded the bag.

He marveled at Sharon's power as he felt the blows transmitted 
through the bag into his gut. They felt as hard as the blows he used 
to receive when his training partners used to throw a medicine ball 
into his gut.

"Whoah Sharon, hold up there. I don't know about you, but I can't 
take anymore. Besides, you should save some of that energy for your 
opponent."

Sharon stopped, the sweat trickled off of her pects, between her 
breasts, and collected on the fabric clinging to her washboard abs.
Bob never failed to get aroused after looking at his fistic goddess 
after she had completed a hard workout.

"I'll tell you what. If you still need to burn off some excess 
energy, I think I can show you a new exercise or two on that bench 
over there."

Sharon smiled like a cat as she asked, "More than three reps?"

"Oh, I think we can get at least five reps," Bob smiled back.

Then the lights went out.

"What the hell?" Bob exclaimed.

"Must be a power outage," Sharon replied.

Less than ten seconds later the lights came on. Sharon and Bob 
blinked, and then saw that a dozen black clad ninja had crowded 
around them in the tiny gym.

"I don't suppose you guys are here to bring us towels?" Bob asked.

The red belted ninja leader stepped forward and slammed his fist 
into Bob's face as a reply. Sharon exploded into action at the 
sight. A right hand smashed one of the small men, sending him 
toppling backwards with two of his companions. A left send another 
ninja tumbling over the weight bench. A ninja jumped behind Sharon 
and sent a strike into her right kidney. Sharon was so pumped, she 
didn't even feel the board breaking blow, as the man's knuckles 
cracked on her steely lower back muscles. The ninja's yelp of pain 
was cut short as Sharon's elbow splintered his teeth.

The ninja were at a disadvantage in the cramped quarters. For the 
most part, they had no room for kicking or fancy moves. On the 
other hand, Sharon had plenty of room to punch. Bob was holding his 
own, having managed to take out two of the ninja. But two others 
grabbed his arms and started kneeing him in the gut. Sharon tried to 
step towards him, but was met by a side kick to her stomach. The 
shock traveled up the man's leg as his shin connected just bellow 
her breasts. Sharon grabbed his foot and twisted, sending him flying 
into the wall. Snatching up a pair of thirty pound dumbbells, she 
leapt like a tigress upon the men who were assaulting her lover.

"Hey ninja assholes!" Sharon yelled as she used one dumbbell to crush 
a ninja's ribs.

As the other ninja turned to face her, he was met by an arm curl 
that broke his jaw and sent him flying. Bob slumped to the floor as 
he was released. Turning around, Sharon used the dumbbells to take 
out the remaining ninja, until only the leader was left standing. 
Yelling something, the leader pointed at Sharon and motioned. 
Accepting the challenge, she tossed the dumbbells aside. One smashed 
a man flat who was getting to his knees.

As Sharon threaded her way past the bodies to confront the leader, 
he threw a flash bomb against the ceiling, blinding her for a second. 
Before she could recover, a foot smashed the back of her head. 
Blindly swinging behind her, she was met by a pair of nunchakus 
slamming into her crotch. As Sharon doubled over with an anguished cry 
to clutch her damaged womanhood, the ninja whipped the fighting 
sticks across the side of her face to send her stumbling against a 
wall. Whipping the sticks back and forth inches in front her, the 
leader had Sharon pinned. Without warning, he sent the sticks 
cracking across her ribs. Another blow hit her in the stomach. And a 
third caught her left tit with the force of a baseball bat. Sharon 
dropped to all fours, giving the ninja leader the opportunity to stripe 
her back. Desperately, Sharon grasped one of his boots and yanked 
his feet out from under him. Quickly crawling on top of him, she 
used her superior size and strength to wrench the nunchakus from his 
grasp. Grabbing him by the front of his uniform, she sent her fist 
pistoning into his face. No stranger to ground fighting, the ninja 
gathered his legs under Sharon and launched her off of him. Rolling 
to his feet, he scrambled across the room. Sharon recovered quickly 
and came after him. Again the ninja released a flash bomb which 
blinded her for a few seconds. But when she recovered her sight, the 
ninja was still in front of her, trying to struggle free of Bob's 
grasp around his legs.

"Thanks for the gift Bob, I've been wondering what you were going to 
get me from Tokyo."

"I thought you might want a ninja. Try to work with your left a 
little more honey."

As Sharon towered over him, the ninja leader stopped struggling, 
held his hands up, and started to talk a stream of Japanese.

"That's right. I would like to know who put you up to this and why. 
But since I don't speak Japanese, I guess I'm just going to have to 
beat the shit out of you."

Sharon's fists pummeled the man's face as Bob held him up from the 
knees. Sharon felt bone breaking as she delivered a series of lefts. 
Stepping back for a minute, she surveyed her handiwork. The ninja's 
mask was soaked with blood and his head lolled to one side. Sharon 
finished him with a spinning back kick that sent both the ninja and 
Bob tumbling.

"Been wanting to try that since I got here."

Bob got shakily to his feet.

Seeing the ugly red welts on her body, he said, "Jesus Sharon, lets 
get back to the room so I can have a look at you."

"In a minute Bob. I've got something to do first."

Bending over, Sharon picked up the nunchakus with one hand and the 
ninja leader with the other. Lifting him like a child, she threw him 
over the bench and yanked his pants down. Bob watched in horror as 
she lined up the sticks.

"Holy shit, you aren't?"

"Damned right I am. We've got to leave these assholes a message. 
Besides, you didn't see where he hit me."

"You mean?"

"No more forced reps for a while."

"I'll see you back in the room when you're done."

Bob walked out as Sharon was lining up a dumbbell over the sticks as if 
she was about to drive a stake through a vampire's heart. He shivered 
when he heard the ninja's wail echo down the hall. But fuck him. He 
was still getting less than he deserved.

Sharon arrived back at their room to find Bob hastily packing.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Yea. The way I figure it, those guys were either sent to 
rough you up, or to take you out before the fight. Maybe somebody is 
betting against you, or maybe they just don't appreciate seeing women 
beating men in a society like this. Regardless of the reason, I 
don't think we should stick around to find out how persistent they 
are. Besides, you need your beauty rest."

The next night, Sharon and Bob took a cab to the arena. They were 
greeted by a number of anxious looking promoters. After explaining 
the trouble in the hotel gym, the translator explained that the 
ninja were probably sent by rival interests who were looking to 
influence the outcome of the fight in order to break their 
organization.

Bob was glad they would be leaving soon as he led Sharon to 
her dressing room. Tonight's fight would be another martial 
arts match which included kicking. Sharon wasn't a kickboxer, but 
she had learned enough in her previous month of training to hold her 
own. Besides, she could hit harder with her fists than most men 
could kick.

Sharon stepped onto the edge of the platform and allowed Bob to 
remove her robe. She was wearing a pair of white and red silk boxing 
shorts and nothing else. Her fists were taped and her long black 
hair was tied behind her in a ponytail. Her magnificent oiled body 
gleamed under the bright lights. The crowd howled wildly, but the 
cheers quickly died as they noticed the large angry bruises covering 
Sharon's body. Odds immediately started changing as the gamblers 
tried to gauge the extent of her injuries.

Across the platform, the Japanese champion made his appearance. He 
was six feet tall, two twenty. He had a bodybuilder's physique which 
he proudly displayed to the crowd. Judging by their reaction, he was 
a popular champion. He wore a karate gi bottom with a black belt. 
His attendants brought out a stack of bricks and arranged them on 
the platform. Moving to the first pile, he broke two bricks with an 
elbow strike. At the next pile he broke another three bricks with a 
head butt. At the final pile, he crushed five bricks with his taped 
fist. As a final demonstration, he splintered three inches of pine 
boards with a straight kick. Bowing to the cheering crowd, he 
returned to his side of the platform to await the start of the fight.

"Too bad we didn't think of putting on a demonstration," Bob noted.

"Hmm, I think we can arrange something. How about I break two arms, 
three fingers, five ribs, and three inches of stomach muscle?"

"Works for me."

After the platform was cleaned, the opponents bowed to each other at 
the center of the platform and the match was started. The rules were 
very different from what Sharon was used to. Any strike above and 
bellow the waist was legal. There would be no rounds. They would 
fight until one of them was knocked out for at least a ten count. 
After a knockout, the fighters would be allowed a three minute rest. 
The first fighter to score three knockouts won. 

Sharon circled her opponent cautiously. She was a boxer, but this 
wasn't a boxing match. The man darted in and sent a kick for her 
midsection which she stepped back to avoid. Moving in, she intended 
to try her jab. But as she set herself, he caught her with a low 
sidekick to her thigh. Ignoring his tactics, she continued forward. 
He aimed a jab at her head. Sharon ducked in and delivered a heart 
punch between his bulging pects with a meaty thud. The man staggered 
a few steps backwards from the force of the blow, surprise and 
disbelief written on his face. Sharon pursued him. Setting himself, 
he launched a powerful roundhouse kick to her side. Sharon's thin 
side abdominals, forged by a hundred thousand crunches, took the 
blow like a telephone pole. 

Raising her arms to expose her midsection, she yelled, "Come on!"

Even though the man didn't speak English, he understood the 
challenge clearly. Setting himself, he launched a series of 
left-right roundhouse kicks to her sides. When she was sure she had 
proven her point, she stepped in and started exchanging body shots. 
Having accepted her challenge, he had no choice but to stand his 
ground. His hard shinbone smacked against her rippled side. Her taped 
fist deliberately slammed into the center of his midsection where his 
muscles were the thickest and strongest. After a brutal thirty second 
display of oriental machismo, Sharon's opponent folded. The crowd 
applauded as Sharon followed up with a roundhouse right which put 
him down for the ten count.

Both fighters returned to their area's to await the next round.
At the end of the break, Sharon's opponent looked confident and 
ready to rock. It's amazing what being fed three minutes of bullshit 
can do for a man's ego. When he was in range, he started to launch a 
series of quick punches and kicks designed to put her on the 
defensive and keep her off balance. But rather than back off, she 
put her hands up and went into a defensive crouch. Taking a number 
of hard blows, she patiently waited for an opportunity. As his attack 
continued to wear on without effect, the man grew frustrated and 
careless. Forgetting defense, he was concentrating on penetrating 
her guard. At that point, she stood up and lashed out with a 
lighting quick punch which caught him right on the point of his jaw. 
He dropped as if she had pushed his off switch. Not bothering to 
wait the ten count, Sharon turned her back and casually walked away. 
The stunned crowd exploded at the one punch knockout. Bob grinned as 
she returned to him. 

"Should I be call room service and ask them to start chilling the 
Champaign?" Bob asked.

"Hey, you're the one who's always telling me not to get 
overconfident. This guy hasn't shown me his best yet."

After they had revived him, the champion's manager had spent the 
remaining time yelling in his face punctuated by a number of slaps. 
Returning to the platform, he adopted more of a defensive posture. 
While she was still out of range, the man fired a jab towards her 
face. While she was watching his fist, he launched his real attack 
with his feet. A low side kick connected viciously with her knee 
cap. Sharon felt something snap. Attempting to step back and take 
stock of the damage, her knee buckled under her. The champion wasted 
no time following up with a swift kick to the face that knocked her 
onto her back. Rolling over, Sharon managed to get to her feet by 
the count of eight. Her injured left leg wouldn't support any 
weight. She was effectively pinned in place. She threw a few 
defensive jabs as the man returned. Seeing that she couldn't move, 
a cruel smile formed on his face. Circling her, he tried to take out 
her good leg with a kick to the back of the knee. Sharon was 
immediately dropped by the blow. Before she had fully regained her 
feet, the man leapt in front of her. Placing his hands on her 
shoulders, he delivered a devastating head butt to the center of her 
beautiful face. Wrapping his hands around the back of her head, he 
forced her face to meet his rising knee. Once, twice, three times 
he drove his knee into Sharon's trapped head. As Sharon fell to her 
knees, he grabbed her ponytail and wrenched her head back. Sharon's 
nose was a bloody mess and her eyes were spinning in their sockets. 
Drawing his fist back, the champion sent his best brick smashing 
punch into her broken nose. A second punch sent blood and pulp 
splattering on the mat as if someone had hit a small tomato with a 
hammer. Bob screamed and had to be restrained from rushing onto the 
mat as the Japanese prepared a third blow.

"Can't you assholes see that she's finished!?"

Looking right in his eyes, the champion unleashed the third punch. 
Letting go of her hair, he allowed Sharon to drop on the mat. Bob 
was released and rushed to Sharon's side. Without any help, he 
dragged her off the platform. Checking her vitals, he was relieved 
to find that they were strong. Probing her face, he winced when he 
felt shards of bone grinding under her right eye. Fucking assholes, 
he thought, even in these contests, there were supposed to be rules. 
Sharon flinched at his touch as she regained consciousness. 

"How long?" she gasped.

"You're not going back out there."

Grabbing Bob by the collar, she said, "I've got to go back."

Looking into her stormy gray eyes, Bob realized that she would go, 
with or without his help. 

"OK Sharon. We've got less than two minutes. Watch the right side of 
your face. Another shot there could blind you."

"Forget my face. Do something about my knee. I can't stand on it."

Grabbing rolls of bandages and tape, Bob worked quickly and expertly 
to wrap her knee. With less than fifteen seconds left, he helped her 
to her feet. Sharon was a little shaky as she put some weight on her 
knee, but it held. The crowd applauded her courage as she slowly 
limped onto the platform. She was covered with blood, sweat, and 
bruises. The right side of her face was grotesquely swollen. And she 
could barely walk. Yet there she was, claiming the center of the 
platform and daring the Japanese champion to take it from her.

The crowd was moved to watch in silence as the champion took the 
platform. Positioning himself in front of her, he executed a long 
formal bow to convey his respect for his opponent. Sharon returned 
it as best as she could. Slowly stalking her, the champion sent a 
straight kick flying into her belly. Tensing her abs, Sharon took 
the kick, but was forced to shuffle backwards on her bad knee. A 
high roundhouse kick caught her on the left side of her head. Using 
his superior mobility, the Japanese man hit her with a quick series 
of punches. As Sharon stood on wobbly knees, he spun around and sent 
a spinning back kick arcing towards her head. With more of a hop 
than a step, Sharon moved in and caught his knee under her left 
armpit. Wasting no time, she drove her rock hard right into his 
face. He tried to escape, but she was set solidly and ignoring the 
protests of her knee. After smacking around his head like a speed 
bag, she paused when she felt his body go limp. She drew her fist 
back one last time. The muscles in her right arm looked ready to 
burst as she prepared to test her own breaking ability. The crowd 
drew in a collective breath as they instinctively realized that 
their champion would have a better chance facing a bullet. But as 
Sharon looked at the glazed expression on the man's face, her 
muscles relaxed, and she gently let him fall to the canvas. The 
crowd stood there silently for a moment. Then one of the Japanese 
champion's managers bowed to Sharon, then the other. The whole crowd 
followed suit. Sharon slowly bowed back, the crowd straightened back 
up as she shuffled back to Bob. As she was helped back to the 
dressing room, the crowd could be heard chanting, "Sharon... 
Sharon... Sharon..." 

Bob got up as Sharon was wheeled out of an examining room in a 
small private clinic. Half her face was covered in bandages. Her 
knee was splinted and bandaged.

"This is the first time I ever saw you coming out worse than the 
loser. I'd like you to know that I'm proud of how you handled 
yourself tonight."

"Thanks Bob. I just couldn't do it. We came here for a fight and the 
fight was over."

Wrapping his arms around her, he asked, "And are you ready to get 
out yet?"

Looking off into the distance, she replied, "I thought about it as 
they were putting me back together. My whole life is about 
challenging myself by facing others. And there isn't any sport more 
challenging than fighting. And these matches are the purest form of 
fighting. I can live without the blood and brutality, but I can't live 
without the challenge. Maybe someday I'll be able to give it up, 
but not now. What I worry about most is you. Sometimes I think that 
watching me take a beating hurts you more than it hurts me. Can you 
take it any longer?"

Bob kissed her gently on the cheek.

"I knew you were special when I married you. I fell in love with you 
because you're special. I understand your need and I'll stand by you 
as long as you want to continue."

"Thanks Bob, you don't know how much that means to me."

Bob smiled at her.

"I didn't want to bring this up right away, but it seems like an 
appropriate time. Some German industrialists caught the show off 
the satellite. They are prepared to offer you even more than the 
Japanese to fight their champions."

"Champions?"

"They have separate male and female champions. If you can beat 
their female champion, they're willing to let you have a crack at 
the male."

"No martial arts bullshit?"

"Just simple, German, bare knuckles boxing on the barn floor."

"Call them back and tell their champions to say good-bye to their 
teeth. We're going to Germany."

"Whoa there, aren't you forgetting something?" Bob asked as he kicked 
her wheelchair.

"Oh, I suppose I could wait until I've recovered. But if we went 
now, the odds would only be slightly in my favor."

"That's my girl. Race you to the car," Bob said as he spun her chair
and took off.

Wheeling around in a circle, Sharon yelled, "Hey, get back here. I 
won't be in this chair forever. And when I get out I'm going to need 
a sparring partner."

Bob stopped as if he'd been shot. Trotting back, he took a position 
behind her and started pushing.

"Yes dear."







           THE PRIZEFIGHT XII: Sharon KO's Germany
           ---------------------------------------

The video tape showed two men squaring off against each other in a 
small ring. The first man was a blonde giant, six five, two sixty. 
The second man was circling him and peppering his face with jabs. He 
was about six two, two twenty. The blonde made no attempt to cover 
up as his opponent rocked his head with his hardest blows. Suddenly, 
the blonde giant lashed out with a straight left which smashed the 
center of the smaller man's face and drove him back a step. 
Following up with a straight right, the man was driven back another 
two steps. With another two punches, the blonde giant had driven his 
opponent into a corner. The smaller man tried to punch back, but he 
was clearly out on his feet. The blonde started to pound his 
defenseless head with a series of powerful roundhouses. The sharp 
crack of his bare fists on the man's face could be clearly heard on 
the professionally produced tape. Pausing for a moment, the blonde 
drew his right hand back slowly. Putting his whole body into it, he 
unleashed a right that snapped the man's head almost around. The man 
slumped slowly to the ground as if his spine was made of jelly. His 
head lolled at an unnatural angle. The small crowd could be heard 
cheering as the blonde paraded around the ring with his arms raised 
in victory.

"The winner is Hans Grueber. The current German champion. The man he 
beat was a former all Europe heavyweight boxing champion. He died 
later that night from his injuries."

Sharon nodded as Bob continued.

"He doesn't box, he hits. His manager claims that he can hit harder 
than any fighter in the world. Supposedly, he broke a bull's neck 
with one blow on a bet."

"Bulls don't hit back. I do. What else have you got?"

"The next tape shows the German women's champion, Erika. In this 
tape, she's fighting an exhibition match against one of the top male 
contenders."

Bob started the tape. The monitor showed a large blonde woman with a 
golden tan wearing white boxing shorts and a white tank top. She was 
six feet tall and a heavily muscled one eighty.

"Jesus, are they growing them in test tubes?" asked Sharon.

"There have been rumors."

The blonde's male opponent looked about six one, two ten. Bob and 
Sharon watched the fight as it progressed through six grueling 
rounds. By the sixth round, Erika still looked fresh. Her opponent 
on the other hand was out of steam. With punishing attacks to the 
body, she brought his hands down and hit him in the face. She sent 
him to the canvas twice in the sixth before scoring a knockout in 
the seventh round. Other than the blood smeared on her top and 
shorts which wasn't hers, she was nearly unmarked. 

Turning off the tape, Bob asked, "What do you think?"

"I'm more worried about Erika than Hans. She knows what she's doing 
in the ring. She's bigger than I am, and I'd suspect that she might 
even know as much as I do. Where did she learn to box like that?" 

"Germany isn't like the States. Women's boxing has always existed 
here. Erika started as a child at a local boxing club. When she was 
a teenager, she won the women's national championship three years in 
a row. She even was famous for a while after she beat a professional 
male boxer who challenged her to fight him on nationwide television.
Two years ago, she retired from the ring. Of course, she really 
joined the German underground circuit. Just like in the States, 
circuit fighting pays better and provides more opportunities for 
women fighters. Within six months, Erika became the women's champion 
and has been defending her title ever since."

"Has she ever fought Hans?"

"As a matter of fact, she has challenged Hans for his title, but his 
managers refused. Since there are separate championships for both 
men and women, she has no way of forcing the issue. The only reason 
they're offering you an opportunity, is that they're pissed about 
your world championship title."

Sharon remembered that she had met Bob when she had fought for the 
circuit championship against former heavyweight boxing champion Matt 
Dyson. She had beaten him in a brutal fight, and had won what many 
considered to be the unofficial "world boxing championship". Sharon 
had successfully defended her title a few times and then retired. 
She now was in demand to fight in special challenge matches for huge 
purses. Her last series of fights had been in Japan, where she had 
beaten their martial arts champion. After seeing this match on a 
private satellite channel, a group of German industrialists had 
offered to sponsor Sharon to fight Erika. It was also arranged, that 
if Sharon managed to beat Erika, she would get a shot at Hans.

During her fight in Japan, Sharon's knee had been injured by a kick. 
For the last six months she had worked to rehabilitate it. For the 
first two months, she couldn't do any roadwork, and had to 
concentrate on her upper body. As a result, she was now sporting 
legitimate seventeen inch arms on her five eleven frame. At one 
point, she had bulked up to one hundred and eighty three pounds, but 
had since cut back to a ripped one seventy five. All in all, she was 
in the best shape of her life and felt ready to take on Erika and 
Hans at the same time.

The night of the fight, Bob wheeled the car around to pick 
Sharon up in front of their large rented villa. Unlike the Japanese 
who had picked them up in a Mercedes, the Germans had made her a 
gift of one. They drove about twenty minutes to a large private club 
in the countryside. When they arrived, a valet took their car and 
they were led inside to a large private dressing room.

Alone in the room. Bob and Sharon went through their usual pre-fight 
routines. Tonight's fight would follow rules they were used to. The 
fight would consist of three minute rounds with one minute breaks. 
There would be an unusually long thirty count which would ensure 
that a fighter was truly beaten. Sharon had decided to wear the 
traditional brown leather gloves provided for her to protect her 
hands. The gloves had virtually no padding and wouldn't interfere 
with the action.

Sharon and Bob were led ringside a few minutes before the fight was 
scheduled to begin. The inside of the club was designed to look like 
an old beer hall. Richly carved posts and beams dominated the dark 
interior. Steins and boar heads decorated the walls. Straw was 
scattered on the stained oak floor. The people in the small crowd 
had each paid outrageous sums to sit on crude wooden benches around 
the ring. The modest sized ring was composed of thick wooden posts 
and lined with actual rope. The floor of the ring appeared to be a 
continuation of the oak floor, but was actually a cleverly disguised 
mat material. No straw would ever find its way onto that mat. The 
stakes in these fights were to high to leave anything to chance. 
Beautiful brass lamps fitted with halogen bulbs lit the ring. They 
were bright, but not nearly as bright as the overhead lights used in 
larger arenas. Hidden in the lamps, ceiling, posts, and other 
locations were more than twenty HDTV cameras ready to broadcast the 
fight around the world via a privately owned satellite channel. 
Sharon was impressed.

"This has got to be the nicest place I ever fought in. We've got to 
ask for a few of those steins to take home with us," Sharon said.

"Like I said, they take their boxing very seriously here. This club 
hosts fights almost every night."

In the center of the ring, a man clad in traditional dress was making 
announcements in German and English.

"Welcome to a very special contest tonight. Introducing, with a 
record of thirty five wins and no losses, the German female bare 
knuckles boxing champion, Erika!"

Erika dropped her robe and stepped into the ring. She was wearing 
tight white spandex shorts that hugged her muscular ass. She was 
topless as was the usual custom in these fights. Her muscular six 
foot tall body was magnificent. She had a golden tan and had been 
rubbed down with a thin coat of oil which highlighted her chiseled 
muscles. Her breasts were small and flat from her strict diet and 
training regimen, but she would never be mistaken for a man. Small, 
dark, hard looking nipples stood out in contrast to her fair skin. 
Her long blonde hair hung down her back in a braid. She had a 
beautifully strong face with a straight nose and pronounced jaw. Her 
ice blue eyes shone as she flexed her muscles for the crowd. 
Glancing over, Sharon saw Bob ogling her opponent. An elbow in his 
side elicited a sharp grunt.

"Looked like you needed help closing your mouth Bob."

Catching his breath, Bob replied, "Thanks dear, I needed that. Would 
you look at her. She must be over two hundred pounds now."

"Yeah, looks like that tape was a few months and a few gallons of 
steroids out of date."

The announcer now motioned at Sharon.

"And introducing her opponent, with a record of thirty two wins, no 
losses, the woman who beat Matt Dyson to become the American circuit 
champion, Sharon!"

As the cheers of the crowd testified, Sharon was not to be outdone 
in the battle of the bodies. Slipping out of her robe, she revealed 
her recently bulked up body. Her broad shoulders and seventeen inch 
arms looked even bigger next to her thin waist. She wasn't quite as 
cut as Erika, so she still managed to maintain a firm looking pair 
of C-cups topped with large excited nipples. Sharon had dark hair 
and stormy gray eyes set in a face which looked like it belonged to 
a model rather than a boxer. In honor of the occasion, she had 
decided to wear red, white, and blue silk boxing shorts.

The bell was rung and round one was on. Sharon and Erika met at the 
center of the ring. Erika lashed out with the first jab which Sharon 
jumped back to avoid. Sharon moved in and tried a straight right 
which Erika dodged. Erika managed to score first with a jab that 
snapped Sharon's head back. Erika tried to follow up with another 
jab that Sharon ducked under, giving her the chance to score on 
Erika's ribs. Erika retreated with a grunt. The rest of the round 
went on in this fashion. Both opponents were feeling each other out, 
probing for weaknesses in each others defense. The bell sounded with 
neither woman marked with anything worse than a few red welts. Back 
in her corner, Sharon was discussing strategy with Bob.

"She's a hell of a lot better than I expected. As good as I am 
maybe. Next round, we'll see who's stronger."

The bell sounded for round two. The two fighters returned to their 
careful probing. Two minutes into the round, Sharon saw an 
opportunity. Erika had connected with a jab and attempted to throw a 
right hook. Sharon ducked and came up with a straight right of her 
own. But she discovered too late that Erika was prepared to miss. 
She moved her head less than three inches, allowing Sharon's fist to 
whiz by her left ear. A left uppercut to the chin dropped Sharon 
like a bad habit. Seeing the way Sharon lay still, Erika raised her 
arms in victory, confident that the perfectly executed punch had put 
her down for the count. But her look of elation turned to amazement 
as Sharon started stirring at the count of six and managed to get to 
one knee by the count of nine. Sharon's incredible conditioning 
would have allowed her to beat a ten count, but she used the rules 
to her advantage and stayed down until the count of twenty three 
before rising. Erika rushed over and tried to put her down again, 
but she found that Sharon was almost fully recovered. Before she 
could inflict anymore damage, the bell sounded.

"Well, she's every bit as strong as she looks. She's fast to."

The third round started off slowly. Midway through, Erika found an 
opening and rammed her right fist into Sharon's gut. Sharon folded 
a bit and Erika brought her hand up for another uppercut. But she 
was surprised as Sharon bobbed to one side showing that she hadn't 
been effected at all. Seeing what was coming, and being in no 
position to avoid it, Erika tensed her abs. With Erika overextended, 
Sharon was able to put her whole body into a left hook which 
purposefully connected with the thinnest part of Erika's abdominal 
wall. The blow thudded with a sound that could be heard all through 
the hall and drove Erika a foot to one side. Erika was barely able 
to prepare before Sharon's right smashed into her belly button. A 
left drove her back further. Feeling the ropes at her back, Erika 
tried to punch her way out. Her biceps knotted as she drove her 
large fist into Sharon's waiting body. They traded shots for about 
fifteen seconds before Erika realized that Sharon's punches were 
sapping her strength, while hers had no effect. No man twice her 
size had ever been able to take her punches without flinching. What 
the hell was this woman made of? Seeing an escape route, Erika 
scuttled to one side and spent the rest of the round trying to keep 
Sharon away with her slightly longer reach. She was relieved when 
the bell sounded.

"Looks like you got her attention," Bob said.

"Yea, she's tough, but she's not invincible."

Back in her corner, Erika's handlers were going nuts. She wasn't 
hurt badly, but angry purple bruises were already forming where 
Sharon's fists had connected.

"Look at these marks! She must have something in her gloves. I'm 
going to protest to the promoters," her manager screamed.

Erika's hand snaked out and caught him by the collar. Her bicep 
swelled dangerously as she yanked him down for a face to face.

"Do nothing to embarrass me. The only thing I feel in those gloves 
are her fists. I don't understand myself how she can hit that hard, 
but believe me, she can."

The fourth round was uneventful. Both fighters realized that their 
opponent was capable of beating them if they made a major mistake. 
No major damage occurred in the fifth or sixth rounds either, but 
the crowd was still captivated. Unlike in America, where many people 
came to see nothing more than a human cockfight, the Germans 
appreciated the sight of two evenly matched competitors fighting a 
duel that was as much mental as physical.

Towards the end of the seventh round, Sharon was able to score with 
a jab that blinded Erika long enough for her to connect with a 
right. Erika staggered as Sharon waded into her with both hands. 
Sweat exploded off her whipping ponytail as Sharon snapped her head 
back and forth. Erika dropped heavily to the floor as the bell 
sounded. Her handlers screamed at her to get up, but she just lay 
there. Sharon returned to her corner and watched as Bob worked on 
her. About fifteen seconds into the count, Erika started to stir. 
With the urging of her corner, she got to her feet. Droplets of 
blood stained the mat where she had been laying. A nasty looking 
cut was visible above her eyebrow as she raised her head. Before she 
could take her first step, she stumbled and fell on her face. Rising 
again, she managed to throw herself into the waiting arms of her 
handlers, just beating the thirty count by two seconds.

With only thirty seconds left, Erika's handlers worked feverishly to 
bring her around. When the bell sounded for round eight, she was 
barely able to stand and wait for Sharon. She didn't need to wait 
long. Smelling blood, Sharon charged across the ring and went to 
work. Trapped in her corner, Erika tried to cover up and weather 
the storm. The tendons in Sharon's forearms stood out like steel 
cables as she hooked her hard leather clad fists into Erika's 
rippled abs. After taking a dozen man killing blows, her muscles 
collapsed and Sharon's fist entered four inches inside of her. 
Erika doubled over and dropped to her knees, an agonized expression 
on her face as she clutched her bruised intestines with one hand. 
Sharon went to a neutral to wait as the count started. Erika waited 
to the count of thirty before lurching to her feet. As she stood up, 
Erika prepared to try to fend Sharon off with more jabs. But Erika 
was now too slow to fend her off as she was picked apart by a 
bewildering variety of attacks. A left hook, a right cross, a 
backfist, and then a rabbit punch (legal in these matches) that put 
her on her ass. Wisely staying down, Erika used the thirty count to 
survive the rest of the round.

"Looks like she's about finished," Bob noted.

"She's no more finished than I am. The damage is still mostly 
superficial. I can't give her a chance to recover. As long as she's 
on her feet, she's a threat."

Erika rose slowly for round nine. Her face and body had taken a 
pounding. Blood and sweat where smeared all over her torso. 
Crouching low and keeping her hands high, she waited for Sharon to 
try to finish her off. She realized that she was in trouble, and she 
had to take a major risk at this point to win. As Sharon came within 
range, she shot her fists between Erika's gloves. After taking three 
or four punches to the face, she started to drop her guard. Seeing 
her fists coming down, Sharon shot a knockout right for her chin. 
Erika dropped down allowing Sharon's fist to pass over her head. 
With all the remaining strength in her legs, back, and arms, she 
rose with an uppercut that connected hard under Sharon's jaw. 
Sharon's feet where lifted off the mat by the force of the blow and 
she was flung onto her back as if she had been shot with a magnum.

Bob screamed as Sharon landed and lay still. He was terribly worried 
that the blow had broken her neck, but he knew better than to rush 
out before the count ended. As Sharon lay on the false wood floor 
barely breathing, Erika was smiling and accepting the congratulations 
of her corner as the count reached twenty. She started posing for 
the cheering crowd as the count reached twenty five. The noise 
inside the small hall exploded into a deafening roar as the count 
hit thirty. Erika felt more elated than she had when she won the 
title originally. She had never faced a tougher opponent, male or 
female. A chill stabbed through her heart as she heard an icy calm 
voice behind her.

"What the hell are you doing? This fights not over yet."

Erika turned to see that the crowd hadn't been cheering her victory. 
They had been cheering the sight of Sharon leaping to her feet to 
beat the count. Erika's face fell and her stomach lurched as she saw 
Sharon waiting for her, looking ready to fight another ten rounds. 
Erika tried to fight, but she was already beaten. Sharon came in and 
put her down with a quick combination. Even though her heart was no 
longer in it, Erika got back up and kept going. Both fighters 
were exhausted, and it took Sharon another three rounds before she 
finally put Erika down for good in the twelfth round.

Unable to raise her leaden arms, Erika saw the roundhouse left that 
cracked into the side of her head and turned the world black. 
Waiting in a corner, Sharon held her breath as Erika bravely 
attempted to lift her body off the mat. Her huge triceps quivered 
with effort as she raised her body off the floor. With five seconds 
left, her arms collapsed, and Erika lay still as the count expired.

The crowd was on its feet cheering and pounding their steins as 
Sharon raised her arms in victory. As Erika's handlers rolled her 
over and revived her, Sharon went over and helped her to her feet. 
Seeing tears welling up in her eyes, Sharon took Erika in an 
embrace that touched the normally stoic Germans. In a gesture of 
sportsmanship that caused a new round of cheers, Sharon grabbed 
Erika's arm and raised it with her own.

Looking into her watering eyes, Sharon saw Erika for what she truly 
was. Far from being the blonde haired Valkyrie who had entered the 
ring, she was now just a twenty two year old kid who had just 
suffered her first loss.

"Don't take it so hard. You're one of the best opponents I've ever 
fought. Nobody, not even Matt Dyson, lasted twelve rounds with me."

Wiping a bloody tear from her eye, Erika said in a heavy German 
accent, "Thank you vor your kind words. You are by var the best 
opponent I ever faced. And if you don't mind me saying so, I hope to 
be as good as you vone day."

"You speak English?"

"Ja. I was in your country vor a year as an exchange student."

"If you're up for it, why don't we go out for a couple of beers 
tonight?"

"You, you really vwant to?"

"You bet."

A smile returned to Erika's face.

"Then vwhy wait."

She snapped something at her manager, and he hurried off and returned 
with two large steins of warm German lager. The two combatants 
raised their steins in a salute and clinked them together before 
downing them in front of the crowd who were chanting the German 
equivalent of "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Lowering her empty stein and rubbing her jaw, Sharon said, "If it 
makes you feel any better, I think you broke my jaw."

Smiling even more, Erika replied, "Ja, it does make me eel better."

As they celebrated an epic fight, the crowd parted like the red sea 
as a blonde giant strode up to Sharon and Erika.

In a booming voice he said, "I am Hans."

Without missing a beat, Sharon said, "And I am Franz."

Some of the listening crowd who understood the reference started to 
laugh. Hans reddened. 

Jamming a huge finger in her chest, he said, "You, little girl. You 
American champion? Americans are vweak little girly men who can't 
keep their vwomen in line. You go home now before I show you vwhat a 
real man is like."

As he emphasized his last point with another poke between her 
breasts, Sharon grabbed the finger and bent his wrist back suddenly. 
Yanking down, not really caring if she broke his finger or not, she 
drove Hans to his knees.

"Who the hell invited you?" Sharon asked.

Hans sputtered, "I vwill kill you for this!" 

"Don't worry pal, you'll get your shot. And you'll wish you hadn't."

Erika smashed her stein across the back of his head, rendering Hans 
unconscious. Sharon released her hold and let him slump to the floor.

"He is, how do you say it in America? A vucking asshole?"

Sharon laughed, "That's exactly how we say it."

Sharon was feeling very good now. She had come to Germany to face a 
challenge and win some money. But she now realized that she had won 
something far more valuable. She had won a friend.


Next up: Sharon shows Hans vwhat a little girly girl is capable of 
when she's pissed.


FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723   

[Chainer★]

FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723   


         THE PRIZEFIGHT XIII: Sharon KO's Germany, Part 2
         ------------------------------------------------

Sharon's head was rocked by the force of the blow. Instinct and 
experience guided her counter punch to clip Erika on the chin. 
Before Erika could recover, she took a left-right combination to the 
belly, and an uppercut that neatly put her down. Sharon squatted down 
where Erika lay.

"Are you OK?"

"Ja. Just a little dizzy. Zat vwas a good punch."

"Remember, accuracy is more important than power. Especially when 
you're pitted against a larger, stronger opponent. Like when I'm up 
against a moose like you."

Sharon reached down and helped Erika off the canvas. In the weeks 
since Sharon had beat the German champion, they had become close. 
Sharon, who had grown up with a house full of brothers, felt that she 
had found a "little" sister. Erika felt much the same way. Having 
started her boxing career at a very young age, and having been at 
the top from the start, she had never met anyone she could look up 
to until she met Sharon. And look up to her she did. When Sharon 
beat her, it had been the first loss of her career. Since they had 
been working out together, Erika had tested Sharon to make sure that 
it hadn't been luck. Lying on the canvas again, she was reassured.

Bob, Sharon's husband, shook his head as he kept time and watched 
sweat spray and leather fly as the two amazons beat the shit out of 
each other. He would sooner step into the center of a nuclear 
reactor than between those two. The past few weeks had been a blast. 
Working out all day and partying all night. Germany was a hell of a 
lot more fun than the tourist brochures would lead you to believe. 
The only part that made Bob wince was Erika's propensity to fly off 
the handle if anyone made any unkind remarks about her American 
friends. She had left a string of unconscious bodies in their wake 
in every beer hall and disco between Frankfurt and Munich. On one 
occasion, she had taken offense to a soldier in a bar that looked 
like it was hosting the entire German army. It was the only time 
he and Sharon needed to step in and help her. The German army lost.

Right now, Sharon was preparing to face the German men's champion, 
Hans Grueber. Before she had come to Germany, it had just been 
another fight. But since Hans had confronted her after her win over 
Erika and started to give her some shit, it had become personal. 
The two amazons were finished in the ring now and had moved on to 
the heavy bag. Erika was holding as Sharon pounded away.

"So Hans usually likes to stand there and let his opponent take his 
best shot?" Sharon asked.

"Ja. He likes to stand there and show that he is more man than his 
opponent."

"Then he's going to have a hell of a time explaining what's about to 
happen," Sharon said as she let loose with a blow that drove the bag, 
and Erika, back six inches.

"Ja. Maybe vwe should send him a dress."

"Would you still like a shot at him?"

Erika's face lit up. "Ja. Vone of the reasons I resented you before 
vwe met vwas zat they vwhere vwilling to give you a shot and not me."

Sharon looked thoughtful for a moment. "Stick with me kid. I think I 
might be able to help you out."

Fight night arrived, and Sharon was ready. The small crowd in the 
boxing club/beer hall went berserk when they saw their female 
champion Erika accompanying her to the ring. As they arrived 
ringside, the announcer was starting.

"Introducing the German men's bare knuckle champion, with a record 
of fifty two wins, no losses, Hans Grueber!"

The blonde haired German giant stepped into the ring. He was six 
five, two sixty, without an ounce of fat on his frame. Wearing a 
tight pair of black leather pants, he paraded around the ring 
displaying his awe inspiring physique to the crowd.

"Too bad this isn't the Mr. Olympia. He'd stand a better chance of 
beating me," Sharon observed.

"And introducing the American circuit champion, with a record of 
thirty three wins, no losses, Sharon Moore!"

Hans didn't look pleased as Sharon received a loader response than 
he had gotten as she stepped through the ropes. At five eleven, one 
seventy five, she was a large woman, but she was dwarfed by Hans. 
Sharon looked resplendent wearing a pair of black silk boxing shorts 
featuring a golden dragon which she had picked up on her recent trip 
to Japan. Her physique made men's blood boil. She had broad 
shoulders, a thin waist, and muscular arms. But rather than detract 
from her femininity, these features enhanced it, making her a Goddess.
Bob smiled at the reaction his wife received.

"Looks like the crowd has a bad case of Sharon worship."

"Yeah, these guys know a real woman when they see one."

Bob nodded, knowing that this was true. More than once, they had 
entered a club and left the skinny little model types lonely and 
pouting as the men crowded around Sharon and Erika.

The announcements were over and the bell was rung to start the first 
round. Hans strode to the center of the ring like he owned it and 
addressed Sharon.

"You made a big mistake coming in here little girl. I vwill show you 
vwhat a real man veels like. Come and take your best shot."

Hans spread his arms and stuck his chin out a bit. Bob swore he 
could hear the tendons in Sharon's right arm crackle as she balled 
her taped hand into a rock hard fist.

"Don't mind if I do Hans."

Sharon drew back her arm and sent her hardest punch rocketing 
towards Hans. But rather than accept the invitation to strike his 
granite jaw, she sent her fist penetrating deep into his solar 
plexus. No matter how many sit-ups or crunches a man does, this 
target is always vulnerable, and if struck hard enough, it can 
end a fight. Hans eyes bugged out and the color drained from his 
face.

Trying to imitate his thick German accent, Sharon said, "Vwhats the 
matter Hans? A properly pumped up man like yourself shouldn't have 
any trouble taking a punch from a little girly girl like me."

Hans just croaked a bit. Despite her bravado, Sharon didn't waste 
any time letting him recover. Grabbing his jaw with her left hand, 
she lined up his face like she was teeing up a golf ball. When she 
had the right angle, she unleashed a right that whipped his head to 
one side with a crack. Hans dropped to floor like an ox. The crowd 
looked on in stunned silence as the count commenced. Hans managed to 
stir, but wasn't even close to getting up at the count of thirty. 
There was some applause as Sharon raised her hands in victory, but 
it lacked some enthusiasm.

"What's the matter with these guys? Where they expecting something 
more?" Sharon asked innocently.

"Well you can't really blame them. An amount of money exceeding the 
GNP's of many small countries just changed hands because Hans is an 
idiot," Bob answered.

"Not my problem. Maybe next time they'll get a smarter champion."

"Zat is not likely in this country," Erika observed.

"Oh really?" Sharon said, "Just keep watching Hans and we'll see 
about that. There they go, he's coming around now."

Back in his corner, Hans had just been revived with a couple of 
slaps to the face. His attendants said something to him and he sat 
there for a second with a blank expression.

"They just gave him the bad news. His brain is now trying to process 
it. It should click right about... now."

Hans jumped to his feet bellowing like a bull. Charging across the 
ring he pointed at Sharon.

Sputtering with rage he yelled, "You, you cheated!"

Sharon blinked and put on a look of indignation.

"Me, how did I cheat?"

"You, you..." Hans face turned beet red as he tried to think of a 
reply.

"That's what I thought." Sharon said.

"I vwant another fight!" Hans bellowed.

"I'll tell you what Hans. You want to fight me again? You're going 
to have to prove that you're a worthy opponent, because you haven't 
yet." Hans fumed as Sharon continued, "If you want to fight me, 
you've got to beat her first."

Sharon pointed at Erika who was genuinely surprised.

"I vwill vwarm up by beating her and then I vwill beat you."

It was Erika's turn to look indignant.

"You are getting ahead of yourself Hans. It took her twelve rounds 
to beat me, twelve seconds to beat you."

Hans pointed at Erika now.

"You, shut up. I vwill deal vwith you vwhenever you are ready."

"I am ready now!"

Erika started to unbutton her blouse.

"Zen come and meet me. I grow tired of talking."

Hans stalked back to his corner and waited as Bob hastily prepared 
Erika to fight. The crowd talked excitedly and wagers were placed 
worldwide. There had always been a lot of speculation about what 
would happen if Hans and Erika ever squared off against each other, 
but nobody had ever seriously expected to see it. Back in her 
corner, Sharon was giving Erika a pep talk.

"You see that he can be beaten, you've got the tools, you've got the 
talent. You were right. You were a tougher opponent. Even if I had 
to fight him for real, I don't think he'd give me half as much 
trouble as you. But whatever you do, don't go in and try to 
out-German him."

"Vwhat do you mean?" Erika asked puzzled.

"I mean that you Germans seem to like to stand in front of each 
other and punch as hard as you can until somebody drops."

Erika smiled and nodded, "Ja, zat is how vwe like to fight."

Sharon shook her head, "Just don't try it with him. You have this 
nice spacious boxing ring here, use it. This guy has never needed 
more than three rounds to beat an opponent. Take him over that, and 
you've won. Remember, he's going to come charging out of that corner 
pissed. Use his anger against him."

"Zat is a lot for a simple German farm girl to remember."

"Then just get out there and kick his ass!"

"I think I can remember that."

The bell rang, and true to Sharon's prediction, Hans came charging 
across the ring like a bull. With Erika wearing nothing but a pair 
of black spandex exercise bottoms, the two large, blonde, muscular 
Germans looked like brother and sister. Erika dodged Hans and nailed 
him in the small of the back as he passed by.

"Vwhat? Don't I get a free punch?" Erika asked.

Hans's reply was to yell and start a second charge. Again, Erika 
allowed him to pass. Jumping behind him, she shoved him face first 
into the ropes. Holding him with her left hand, she sent her right 
hooking into his lower back and kidneys. Hans twisted around with a 
huge elbow that Erika had to jump back from to avoid. The rest of 
the round went much the same. Erika was giving Hans a boxing lesson. 
By the time the bell rang, Hans was covered with sweat and 
breathing hard. Erika on the other hand, only had a thin sheen of 
perspiration with a couple of droplets rolling down her muscular 
cleavage.

"Vway," Sharon shook her head," I mean way to go Erika! If you can 
keep him going like that, he's going to keel over with a piece of 
'wurst lodged in his heart."

The second round started much like the first. Midway through, Erika 
made a particularly elegant move and managed to pop Hans in the nose
causing a stream of blood. Hans yelled something and Erika's 
expression changed for the worse. Sharon didn't speak much German 
yet, but she had heard the phrase enough in the ring to know that 
Hans had just said "Fucking bitch!" Sharon watched as Erika's stance 
went flat and she took a step towards the giant.

"Don't do it Erika!" she yelled.

But Erika wasn't listening anymore. Getting in Hans's face, she 
smashed him with a straight right that connected with a crack. Hans 
responded with a right that drove Erika back two steps. A little 
wobbly, she stepped back in and punched Hans in the face again. Hans 
ripped off a roundhouse blow that spun her around. She tried to 
trade another punch, but her fist sailed right past Hans's head. 
Reaching around with his left arm as if to hug her, Hans grabbed 
hold of Erika's ponytail and yanked her almost off her feet. Drawing 
back his right, he sent it crashing into her bare midsection. From 
her perspective, Sharon could see that Erika still had her abs 
tensed or that blow might have been lethal. Another half dozen body 
punches followed. Erika's feet were actually swinging from the ground 
when Hans let her drop. But instead of hitting the floor, Erika 
tried to keep her feet. This gave Hans the chance to line up a punch 
that caught her in the center of the face and flung her back onto 
the ropes. Rebounding, Erika went down hard. Sharon was screaming 
from her corner as the count started. The bell sounded for the end 
of the round as the count reached ten. Erika bravely got to her 
knees and crawled to Sharon. Reaching the corner, she took hold of 
the ropes and paused for a moment.

"Come on Erika! Get up! I can't help you until you get up!"

Sharon's prompting got through, and Erika pulled herself to her 
feet, released the ropes, and stopped the count. Bob and Sharon 
grabbed her and planted her ass on the stool. Grabbing his cut kit, 
Bob went to work. Erika's nose had been ruined by that last blow and 
had covered her chest with blood. But it was a cut over her left eye 
that he started with first. If she lost any vision in her left eye, 
it could prove fatal in a fight like this. Looking into Erika's 
eyes, Sharon could see that she was recovering her faculties.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing out there? If Hans 
wasn't slapping the shit out of you, I would be! Now you get back 
out there and move. Fuck the crowd. You stay away from him for at 
least a round."

Bob looked at Sharon. She was seriously pissed. But her anger had 
nothing to do with winning or losing, she was worried about Erika. 
Erika got to her feet at the sound of the bell. Showing that the 
message had been received, she kept away from Hans. She had been 
slowed by the punishment she took, but Hans was moving even slower. 
Towards the end of the round, the crowd was growing restless. Hans 
stopped in the center of the ring and addressed Erika.

"Vwhats the matter little girl? You vwanted to fight, not race. 
Are you afraid that I am too much man for you. Vwe vwill find out 
after I have beaten you and dragged you back to my room."

Sharon held her breath. Erika didn't look pleased, but she didn't 
rise to the bait either. Sharon was relieved as Erika won the 
struggle against her genetic tendencies. Erika looked nearly fully 
recovered by the end of the third round.

"Good job Erika."

"I must hit him soon, or I vwill explode."

"Don't worry, you'll get your chance. We just need to burn off the 
last of his energy reserves. Do you think you can say something to 
piss him off?"

"Ja, it comes naturally to me."

The bell for the fourth round sounded and Erika led off with her 
mouth.

"Vwhat are you? A little girly man who can't beat a little slip of a 
girl like myself?"

Sharon broke out laughing. At six feet, two hundred pounds, she 
wouldn't dream of anybody describing Erika as a little slip of a 
girl. Hans started for her. Erika said something in German as she 
pointed towards his crotch and the whole crowd in the beer hall 
started to laugh. Hans lost it. Jumping in front of her, he sent a 
roundhouse winging over her ducking form. The punch could have 
knocked down a small building. Erika straightened up and slapped his 
face with an open hand. Sharon hadn't thought Hans could get madder, 
but she was wrong. With a bellow of rage that rattled the windows, 
Hans started swinging wildly. Erika laughed and mocked him as she 
deftly avoided his swings. Sharon enjoyed the show, but she realized 
how dangerous this game really was. She could actually hear Hans's 
fist cutting through the air. Finally, after two minutes, Hans swung 
and missed again. Tired and dizzy, he stumbled and fell.

Looking over at Sharon, Erika asked, "Vwould zis be a good time to 
start?"

Sharon flashed her a thumbs up, "Ja!"

Erika waited until Hans had fully gained his feet. Darting in, she 
delivered a right-left combination. Hans tried to throw a punch, but 
he was way too slow. Erika's tricep bulged as she jammed her fist in 
his left eye. Another punch went in his right eye. A right started a 
mouse on his cheekbone. By the time the bell sounded, Hans was 
getting a bit fucked up. Back in her corner, Sharon noted the red 
stains on Erika's white taped fists and the way she sat on stool 
fidgeting and flexing. Hans had a long round coming.

At the sound of the bell, it was Erika's turn to charge. Hans had 
recovered somewhat, so he was able to exchange a few punches with 
her. It was clear that his blows no longer carried their killing 
force. After realizing this, Erika dropped her guard and invited 
Hans to take his best shot.

"Go ahead Hans, show me vwhat a manly man can do."

Hans was still able to hit her with a blow that rocked her. But 
Erika bobbed back up immediately.

"Again!" Erika ordered.

Hans lashed out with a punch that snapped her head to one side. 
The crowd was whipped into a frenzy by the display of machismo. 
Sharon winced when she saw that the blow had ripped a one inch gash 
in her cheek.

"You hit like a girl!" Erika declared, "Let me show you how to punch 
like a man!"

Erika drove her fist into the center of his face. Hans didn't move 
far, but he did move. Another four punches pressed his back into the 
corner. Going low, she hit him with a series of body blows that 
could be felt by the crowd. Hans tried to stagger out of the corner, 
but Erika grabbed his waist with her hands as if she was steadying a 
heavy bag. After working him over another minute, the bell sounded 
and Hans's attendants started to climb through the ropes. Erika shot 
them a look that caused them to freeze. After intimidating them for 
a few seconds, she wheeled around and returned to her corner.

"Come on Erika, will you stop taking it easy on him. After all, you 
broke my fucking jaw," Sharon said.

"I vwill leave him something to remember us by."

At the start of round six, Hans's attendants barely got the stool 
out from under his ass before Erika showed up. Hans took a swing at 
her and stumbled. Stepping in, Erika grabbed him under his 
arms and held him up.

"Hush little baby. Mommy vwill now put you to sleep."

Erika gently propped Hans up in the corner. Crouching down, she sent 
an uppercut cracking into his jaw. Hans started to fall forward, but 
again, Erika caught him under his huge pects and pushed him upright. 
Holding him up with her left, she gently slapped his face with her 
right.

"Vwake up little Hansy. Your little girlfriend vwishes to play some 
more."

Hans's eyes fluttered open, and then bulged when he saw Erika still 
standing in front of him. He tried to get away, but Erika had more 
strength left than he did. Before he could resist anymore, she pounded 
his swollen jaw. Drawing her arm back, she repeatedly struck him. 
Hans's head flew around wildly. Stopping for a moment, Erika saw 
that his jaw didn't quite line up with the rest of his face. 
Grunting with satisfaction, she let him drop. Sharon greeted her 
with a hug as she returned to her corner.

"Vwhat," Sharon shook her head, "I mean what took you so long?"

"His damn jaw vwouldn't break."

Later, after Erika had been visited by the club physician and 
cleaned up. Sharon and Bob picked her up in their Mercedes.

"Everything check out OK Erika?" Bob asked.

"Ja. Zee doctor said there vwere no internal injuries or broken 
bones other zan my nose."

"Can't say the same for Hans. They had to rush him to hospital for a 
ruptured spleen."

Sharon leaned over and looked at Erika carefully. She was a bit cut 
up, but a good doctor could keep the scarring to a minimum.

"Erika, I've got something very important to tell you. Me and Bob 
talked to your manager. We took my prize money and bought your 
contract." Erika sat there quietly, so Sharon continued, "We're 
going to give you a choice. You can quit. Retire for real. If you 
need some money, I'll help you out. Or you can continue to fight for 
yourself. We'll sell you your contract, and you can pay us back from 
your winnings."

The twenty two year old girl thought for a moment before replying, 
"Thank you for your kindness. My whole life, nobody has ever given 
me a choice before. Now I must ask you a question. Vwill you and Bob 
manage me?"

"We'd love to, but we're returning to America in a few days. We 
can't manage you here."

"Then I vwill come to America vwith you," Erika replied.

Sharon and Bob looked at each other.

"It isn't as if we don't have enough room in the house," Bob said.

"And I've still got a couple of single brothers who would love to 
meet her," Sharon grinned.

"And all you were going to take back was a couple of steins. I'll 
get her a ticket in the morning."

Erika reached over the seat and wrapped a muscular arm around each 
of them. With a squeeze that nearly made Bob lose control of the 
car, she thanked them.

"If it's no trouble, could I bring my dogs?"

"Dogs?" Sharon asked, "You mean like a couple of those cute little 
wiener dogs? Or maybe a schnauzer?"

"I have two German shepherds und a rottweiler at my father's farm. 
They used to be East German border patrol dogs," Erika replied with 
obvious pride.

Bob and Sharon looked at each other again.

Bob sighed, "It's not as if we really need to use the lawn. I guess 
our lives are about to get more interesting."



         THE PRIZEFIGHT XIV: A Day In the Life of Sharon
         -----------------------------------------------

Bob, Sharon, and Erika were jogging down the shoulder of an isolated 
country road a few miles from their estate. It had been a few days 
since they had returned to America from Germany where Sharon had 
gained Erika's respect by being the first person ever to beat her in 
a boxing match. Since then, Sharon had taken the twenty two year old 
girl under her wing like the little sister she never had. But at six 
feet tall, and weighing two hundred rock hard pounds, there was 
nothing little about her. Bob and Sharon had purchased her contract 
from her manager. They had given Erika a choice, and she had asked 
to return with them to pursue her career fighting on the same 
circuit that Sharon had been champion of.

It was a cool fall day, and they were just starting to warm up when 
the still morning was interrupted by the sound of motorcycle engines. 
A minute later, a dozen outlaw bikers rounded a bend ahead of them 
and spotted the trio. Bob prayed that wouldn't be any trouble, but 
he knew better. Sharon was a magnet for trouble, and Erika was even 
worse. Together they were unbelievable. The bikers hurled some 
abuse as they passed, but the women didn't react until one of them 
threw a beer bottle. Bob didn't wonder if one of them would start 
something, just which one. As it turned out, they both did.

"Fucking assholes!" they yelled back.

Bob wasn't surprised when the bikes started to turn around 
and come back. Half of them cut off the road in front of them, while 
the other half sealed off the rear. The trio stopped as the bikers 
shut off their engines. The lead biker was the first to speak.

"Excuse me, but what did you just fuckin' call us?"

Sharon took a step forward and replied, "What's the matter, you got 
wax in your ears. We called you a bunch of fucking assholes."

The leader looked over at Bob as the bikers started to dismount.

"And what about you? Any last words before we beat you to death and 
rape these bitches?"

Bob spoke calmly "Yeah, I've got something to say. It's not going to 
do any good, but I'd suggest that you get back on your Harleys 
before you get your asses kicked."

The bikers started laughing at them. Sharon and Erika were wearing 
baggy warm-up suits, so the threat wasn't at all obvious.

"You and what army?" one of the bikers yelled as they closed in. 
Erika put her fingers in her mouth and issued a piercing whistle 
which froze the bikers in their tracks. They looked around for a 
few seconds and then started to laugh again.

"What? Were the fucking marines supposed to come and save you?" 

Just then, there came crashing sounds from the woods and three large 
shapes burst out of the underbrush. Erika issued a command in 
German, and the dogs took up guard positions between them and the 
bikers. The two snarling German shepherds were huge. Each would go 
well over a hundred pounds. But it was the rottweiler that got the
bikers attention. The prehistoric looking beast had to be pushing 
two hundred pounds. The dogs had been trained as part of the East 
German border patrol before the wall came down. The bikers froze as 
they recalculated the rapidly changing odds. The lead biker who was 
closest to the dogs seemed to lose his enthusiasm.

"Hey, we were just kidding around. We weren't really going to hurt 
you, just scare you a bit."

Erika issued another sharp command, and the rottweiler jumped five 
feet through the air and knocked the biker on his back. The large 
animal stood over him and growled, its exposed teeth just inches 
from his throat.

"Looks like the big badass biker wet himself," Sharon observed.

"Hey, we don't want any trouble. Just call off the dogs, and we'll be 
on our way."

Sharon started to remove her jacket. Erika followed suit. 

"Oh, we'll call off the dogs. But it's to late to stop the trouble," 
Sharon announced.

The bikers seemed a lot less worried about the dogs as Sharon and 
Erika dropped their jackets to the ground exposing their upper 
bodies. The two boxers had bigger arms than most of the bikers. One 
of them recognized Sharon.

"Jesus Christ! That's Sharon Moore, the circuit fighting champion."

"That's right, and you're about to participate in my morning 
workout. Call off the dogs Erika."

Erika barked at her dogs, and they backed off. Sharon, Erika, and 
Bob waded into the bikers. They didn't stand a chance. Sharon led 
off, burying her fist into the gut of a three hundred pounder. 
Erika hit a biker so hard that he flipped over the Harley behind 
him. A biker was about to whip Sharon from behind with a length of 
chain. Bob caught his hand and put him down with a right cross. 

"Believe me, you don't want to get her attention like that," he told 
the downed biker as he kicked him in the face. 

There were only a few bikers left standing as Bob looked around. 
Erika cornered the smallest biker and he tried to run away. Catching 
the hundred and fifty pound man by the belt, Erika hauled him back 
and hoisted him over her head. Throwing him, she knocked down two of 
the remaining bikers. 

"Show off!" Sharon yelled as she put another biker's lights out with 
a left.

The fight didn't last much longer before all of the bikers were 
lying on the ground groaning. Sharon looked around for the leader. 

"Hey Erika, grab that one for me. I want a few words with him."

Erika smiled as she leaned over and grabbed the semi-conscious biker 
by his leather vest. Her biceps swelled as she lifted him to his 
feet. Sharon walked over and slapped him back to consciousness.

"Did I hear you say something about raping the bitches?"

The bikers eyes bugged as Erika lifted his feet off the ground. 

"Answer her," she snapped.

"We, we didn't mean it," the biker sputtered.

Erika let go with one of her hands. The biker came down a bit, but 
not much. Reaching between his legs, she gave his crotch a squeeze.
The biker squealed.

"Ja, he could not have meant it. He is not properly equipped."

"Flip him around. I want to ask this mutant a question."

Erika spun the biker leader to face Sharon.

"Are you sorry?" Sharon asked.

"Ja," the biker shook his head, "I mean yes, yes I'm sorry."

Sharon looked the man in the eyes.

"Making fun of my best friend, are you? I don't think you're sorry 
at all. I think I'm going to have to make you sorry. I'll give you a 
choice." Sharon palmed her fist as she continued, "Either one in the 
balls or six in the gut."

The biker struggled to escape, but Erika's grip was too strong.

Erika leaned forward and said, "You don't have much to lose down 
there, but if you ever vwant to use your little vweiner again, I 
vwould chose the gut."

The biker looked at Sharon's big arms and swallowed.

"The gut," he croaked.

"Good choice," Sharon said, "Erika, we'll take turns."

The biker tensed as Sharon wound up. Her thudding punch cut through 
his abdominal muscles into his innards. The biker wanted to double 
up on the ground, but Erika was still holding him.

"Your turn," Sharon announced as she relieved Erika.

Seeing Erika's even larger arms, the biker tried to protest, but 
Erika's low body blow cut him short. Erika grabbed him under the 
armpits as Sharon took another shot. The biker started to heave. 
Trading places again, Erika plunged her fist under his ribcage. The 
biker thought he felt something burst inside of him before he lost 
consciousness. Vomit dribbled from his mouth. Sharon let him drop to 
the ground.

"It wouldn't be any loss to society, but we don't want to kill him."

"Vwe vwill just have to owe him the last two."

"Ja," Sharon nodded. Looking around at the bikers, most of whom were 
now conscious, she said, "You assholes have made us late for lunch. 
We're going to have to borrow your motorcycles."

One of the bikers who was struggling to get up said, "No way bitch, 
nobody messes with our bikes!"

Sharon strode over and kicked his teeth out with her white Reebok. 

"Anyone else have a problem?"

The rest of the bikers didn't say anything.

"Good, I want his bike," Sharon pointed at the leader, "And his," 
she kicked the biker who had protested.

The bikers pointed out the two Harleys. Erika didn't ride, so she 
took a seat behind Bob on a large touring bike. Sharon started her 
new Sportster, and they were off. The dogs ran behind them. They 
couldn't keep up, but they wouldn't have any trouble getting home.

"Three days," Bob muttered, "We've only had three days of peace."

Hearing him, Erika smiled, "Ja, I vwas beginning to think America 
vwas a boring place."


Later in the afternoon, they went to the gym that Sharon and Bob 
owned. Sharon and Erika hit the weights while Bob talked with the 
manager. When Sharon had first seen Erika, she had thought that she 
was on 'roids. But since they had been working out together, Sharon 
found that Erika had gotten big the old fashioned way. Lift heavy 
and eat like a horse. Right now, Erika was lifting heavy. Men were 
staring as she benched eight reps with two hundred and eighty 
pounds. Sharon didn't even try to keep up. She might be able to 
match the younger woman, but it wasn't worth a possible torn 
rotator cuff finding out.

Resting between sets, Erika reached out and pinched a bodybuilder's 
butt as he walked by. The man turned around with a surprised look on 
his face which turned into a smile when he saw her.

Slapping his glute, he said, "You feel free to do that anytime you 
want sweet thing."

He strutted a bit as he continued on his way.

"Would you cut that out," Sharon said, "You're embarrassing me."

"I can't help myself. You've got a lot of cute guys in America."

"I'll tell you what. If you want, I'll hook you up with my brother 
Jack tonight."

"Ja, I vwould like to meet your brother."

"And please don't hurt him."


Jack Moore was happy to hear from his sister. He told her he would 
be delighted to go out with Erika. That evening, they picked up the 
former Golden Gloves champion in front of the youth center where he 
volunteered as an instructor. Jack was blown away by Erika. The 
tall broad shouldered German girl looked great in a conservative 
long sleeved silk blouse and comfortable slacks. When they got to 
the restaurant, the foursome grabbed a secluded booth in the back. 
Jack was amazed as Erika polished off twice as much food as himself. 
Sharon caught him staring as Erika started a second desert.

Answering the unasked question, she said, "Erika works out."

"So Erika, what do you do for a living?" Jack asked.

Erika looked at Sharon. Sharon nodded.

"I'm a boxer."

Jack blinked, "No really, what do you do?"

Bob responded, "No, she really is a boxer. In fact, she was the 
German woman's heavyweight champ. We met her when we were visiting 
over there."

Looking at Erika, Jack said, "I didn't mean to doubt you, it's just 
that with a face that beautiful, you don't look like a boxer. Most 
boxers show some scars. But now that I'm looking, your nose is a bit 
crooked, as if it's been broken. I like it. It adds character."

Erika smiled at his recovery, "Ja, you are right. My nose vwas 
broken once. Your sister did it."

Jack did a double take.

"What?"

"Your sister broke my nose when vwe fought. But not to vworry, I 
broke her jaw."

"What have you been up to Sharon?"

"Oh come on now Jack. You know I'm a boxer. I've been picking up a 
few bucks boxing professionally. I never mentioned it because I 
didn't want to worry the family."

"You had me fooled. I thought you were just running a boxing gym. 
But it makes a lot of sense. That's why Lori was after you."

"Who's Lori?" Erika asked.

"It's a long story. Someday I'll tell you. Well, we've got to get 
going." Sharon said.

"I'll get the check," Jack said.

"Let me pay. After all you have done for me, it's the least I can 
do," Erika said.

"No, I insist."

"Vwhy don't vwe arm wrestle for it?"

"Go ahead Jack. It seems like a fair way to decide. After all, 
you've got thirty pounds on her," Bob said.

Jack shrugged and put his arm on the table. Erika reached over and 
took his hand. Thirty pound advantage? He was two thirty. That would 
make her two hundred pounds. How the hell can she be two hundred? 
Jack thought. His silent question was answered as they locked up and 
he saw Erika's bicep moving like a squirrel under her sleeve. As 
they started, her arm swelled and stretched the fabric. Using all of 
his strength, Jack managed to lever her arm over a bit. But Erika 
came right back and forced his arm back. Grunting with effort and 
clutching the table, he fought back. Their arms trembled as they 
battled. Neither of them tried to hunch over the table and use their 
weight. This contest would be decided purely on strength and 
endurance. A passing waiter stopped and his mouth dropped open. Jack 
stared into Erika's blue eyes. The struggle had nothing to do with 
the check and they both knew it. They were deciding the future of 
their relationship. Erika didn't have an ounce of fat on her body, 
but neither did Jack. They were both incredibly strong, well 
conditioned athletes. In the end, it came down to Jack's size 
advantage. Inch by inch he drove Erika's arm back. As Erika's hand 
approached the table, her sleeve split and Jack was treated to the 
sight of a huge tanned bicep. A second later, he finished her off. 
The whole contest had lasted almost a minute. Jack collapsed in his 
seat. Erika wiped a few beads of sweat off her brow with a napkin. 
Large perspiration stains were spreading under her armpits. Jack 
wasn't in any better shape.

"Looks like I get to pay the check," Jack said smiling at Erika. "I 
think I owe you a new blouse also."

"Zat vwas a good match. You are very very strong."

"I'll bet you feel real good about beating a girl," Sharon 
said.

Rubbing his arm, Jack replied, "If it makes you feel any better, I 
think I ripped my bicep."

Erika smiled back, "Ja, it does make me feel better. Perhaps vwe can 
go shopping for zat blouse tomorrow. Zis one vwas a bit to small."

Erika put her left arm up on the table across from Jack and flexed 
hard. Her left sleeve split with a matching rip.

"See vwhat I mean?"

Erika left her arm on the table as Jack reached over and inserted 
his hand into the rip to feel the silky smooth skin stretched over 
her bulging bicep. She felt a tingle as his warm hand caressed her 
arm.

"How about I take the rest of my life off, and pick you up at one?"

Erika looked over at Sharon.

"Go ahead. We can start our workout a little earlier tomorrow." 
Looking at Jack, she said, "Just have her back before it's time to 
feed the dogs." Leaning over to Bob, she whispered, "Just wait until 
he finds out those blouses are custom made and cost about five 
hundred bucks."


Later, after they where back home, Sharon asked Erika, "Did you find 
out what you wanted to know about my brother?"

"Ja. He is strong. He does not quit. He also appreciates a vwoman 
such as me. I like him."

"I was serious about what I said before. Don't hurt him. He had a 
very bad experience with a women boxer once. A woman who was looking 
to get to me through him. She broke his back."

"Lori?"

"Yes, Lori.

"I vwill break her in half if she comes near him again."

"Don't worry, I already took care of her."



In a large storage room off of an underground parking garage in Los 
Angeles, a small crowd was howled with blood lust. Two opponents 
faced each other inside of a twenty by twenty foot cage. The first 
opponent was a hairy man built like an ape. He was about six one, 
two hundred and sixty pounds. He was naked, except for boots and a 
groin protector. His opponent was a woman. She was five foot nine, 
one hundred and ninety pounds. She was wearing a two piece black 
outfit made of thick studded leather. It did nothing to conceal her 
incredible musculature. It also served to contain a pair of huge, 
hard looking breasts.

This was one of the many small arenas where pit fighting took 
place across the country. Unlike the circuit that Sharon fought on, 
these fights had little organization behind them. They didn't 
attract nearly as much money as the circuit did. Also, unlike the 
circuit, these fights were often to the death. The market for these 
fights was small but lucrative. There weren't many fighters who were 
willing to participate in these contests. And it didn't help that 
you lost half of them after every match. The fighters who did 
participate in these matches could usually be categorized as either 
desperate, sadistic, or psychopathic. Neither of tonight's fighters 
was desperate.

The man charged at the woman. She calmly stood her ground and shot 
her right fist into his face. Since she had bulked up, she wasn't 
quite as fast as she used to be, but she was still faster than the 
men she faced. The blow broke his nose, but the man didn't even slow 
down. Diving to one side, the woman rolled to her feet. Turning to 
face her opponent, she sent a kick crashing into his knee. The man 
stumbled and went down. Leaping in front of him, she grabbed hold of 
his ears and drove her knee into his face. Twice more, her huge 
quads battered him. Stepping back, she decided that she could afford 
to have a little fun with him. 

"Get up asshole, while I'm still in the mood to let you."

The man got up and started swinging at her. She easily avoided his 
clumsy punches and gave him a boxing lesson. With a lightning fast 
series of punches, she quickly reduced his face to a bloody pulp. 
The man tried to hit her with an uppercut, but she saw it coming and 
leaned back. Instead of hitting her chin, it just clipped her left 
breast. The breast that Sharon had destroyed... 

She remembered the night that she had fought Sharon. Lori had 
been winning, and then Sharon cheated. She still wasn't sure exactly 
how. Maybe her water had been drugged. Perhaps the tape on Sharon's 
fists had been concealing more than just her knuckles. All Lori knew 
was that the bitch couldn't have beaten her fairly. Lori had been in 
the hospital four months with a shattered ribcage and internal 
injuries. The first month she had to put up with that asshole 
brother of Sharon's that she had put in the hospital with a broken 
back. The indignities that she had suffered before she could get 
herself the hell out of there. But the worst part was what the bitch 
had done to her breasts. Her once proud breasts that had lured so 
many men to their doom had been ruined. The plastic tits she had
now might still work on men, but she knew the difference. She had 
nightmares about what Sharon had done to her.

Lori's concentration had only lapsed for a few seconds, but inside 
the cage, that could be a lifetime. The man rushed in and grabbed 
her around her blocky waist in a bear hug. Lori could feel her spine 
creak as he exerted crushing pressure. She tried breaking his 
eardrums with her cupped hands. The man shook his head and charged 
for one of the posts that supported the chain link fence making up 
the cage. Lori's breath was knocked out as she felt the cold metal 
post smash into her back. The man backed up a step and smashed her 
into the post again. He then started to scrape her naked back along 
the rough surface of the cage. Lori felt the steel cutting her 
flesh. Grabbing the man's head with both hands, she twisted it to 
one side and bit off his ear. To the man's credit, he didn't let go 
immediately. Lori had to chew on the side of his face for a moment 
before he screamed and threw her across the cage. Before Lori could 
get back up, the man drove a booted foot into her chest that flung 
her into a corner. Looking down, she could see a dirty black toe 
mark on her right tit. The man tried to kick her again. This time 
Lori caught his foot and savagely twisted with her whole body. The 
man screamed and fell as she felt cartilage rip. Getting to her 
feet, she circled her opponent. The man tried to get up, but 
he collapsed as his knee gave out underneath him. For the first time 
in the match, she saw fear in his eyes. This was the part that Lori 
lived for. This was the part when her opponent became... Sharon.

Her booted foot caught him under the chin breaking his jaw. A side 
kick connected with his good knee as he tried to get up again. She 
continued to kick at her downed opponent as he tried to crawl into a 
corner. 

"You fucking bitch!" Lori screamed, "This is for what you did to my 
tits!"

A swift kick thudded into the man's meaty chest. Some members of the 
audience looked puzzled as she screamed at the man. Others had seen 
her do this before. Lori had showed up to the pit fights about a 
year ago. Other women had climbed into the cage. Some had even 
survived. Lori was the only one who kept coming back. It was clear 
to everyone who had seen her fight that she was quite mad. But 
sanity was not an attribute that made for a good pit fighter. And 
Lori was quickly becoming the best. She also had built a reputation 
as the most sadistic. As soon as she had her opponent helpless, she 
would spend as long as an hour torturing him. Once, she had been 
pitted against another woman. She was a big tough dike who had beat 
plenty of men in bar fights. They weren't in the cage together for 
more than a minute before the woman had started to scream and tried 
to climb out. The woman's fingers were ripped to hamburger as Lori 
kept yanking her back in, all the while calling her "Sharon". The 
things Lori did to her are best left unsaid. Even veteran audience 
members were sickened by what they saw. The video tape of that match 
had made the promoters a small fortune at a thousand dollars a copy.

Lori was finishing off her opponent. The floor of the cage looked 
like it belonged in a butcher shop. Most of the crowd had been 
splattered with at least a few drops of blood. The man had stopped 
struggling and lay still. His breaths were shallow and ragged. 
Straddling the man's back, Lori wrapped a large forearm around his 
neck and slowly lifted his head from the floor. As she gradually
increased the pressure on his back, the man started to regain 
consciousness. Feeling him start to struggle in her grasp, she 
tightened her grip on his neck. She smiled as she watched her 
softball sized bicep swell. After she had gotten out of the 
hospital, she had started taking steroids to speed her recovery. She 
had never stopped. Twisting slowly, she turned the man's head until 
he was looking over his shoulder. His eyes bugged in their sockets. 
She finally felt his neck snap under the tremendous pressure. She 
didn't stop until his head was facing backwards. She felt the tingle 
of an orgasm starting as she looked at her dead opponent and saw... 
Sharon.

A medical school dropout worked to close the lacerations on Lori's 
back. Lori felt the pain, but showed no outward indication as the 
man swabbed her wounds with an antiseptic. She just put the pain 
on Sharon's tab. One of the promoters came back to speak to her.

"Great fight Lori. The crowd ate it up. But I'm afraid that guy was 
the last volunteer. We can't get you another match until somebody 
wanders in off the street."

"That's all right," Lori said, "I'm ready now. It's time to find... 
Sharon."

Of course, many of the pit fighting aficionados also attended 
circuit fights and knew exactly who Lori and Sharon were. They 
would also pay any amount to see a second fight between the two 
women. A fight in the cage. The promoters also knew this, and 
intended to make it happen despite the risk. Sharon had many 
admirers on "the Board", the mysterious body that governed the 
fighting circuit. The Board had many powerful connections, including 
ties to the mob. Dragging the former circuit champion into the cage 
against her will and killing her would be inviting death. But the 
money they would make would allow them to flee the country and 
retire with a large fortune. The promoter nodded.

"We have reports that Sharon is back in the states. We'll get her 
for you."

"And her brother," Lori said in a low voice, "Don't forget her 
brother."





              THE PRIZEFIGHT XV: Hurricane Erika
              ----------------------------------

Jack pulled up in front of his sister's large country house to pick 
up Erika for their lunch date. Sharon and Bob had introduced them to 
each other at dinner last night. Erika was a twenty two year old 
boxer who had just arrived in this country from Germany. They had 
arm wrestled for the check last night, and Jack had barely beaten her 
after a prolonged struggle. It might seem amazing that a six foot 
three, two hundred and thirty pound guy in great shape would have 
trouble overpowering a woman. That was, until you consider that the 
woman is a six foot, two hundred pound muscular blonde Valkyrie.

Jack stepped out of his classic 'Vette. He hadn't made it halfway to 
the front door when he heard something bursting from the bushes 
behind him. Before he could turn around, he was hit from behind and 
knocked to the ground. Rolling over, he found himself face to face 
with the largest, meanest looking dog he had ever seen. He lay 
perfectly still as the dog stood over him growling. He could feel 
its hot breath on his face. Jack heard someone coming down the walk 
from the front door. The next thing he saw was two more large dogs 
appearing over him. They didn't look any friendlier than the first.
Jack tried to get up slowly, but one of the smaller dogs jumped on 
his chest and snapped at his face. Looking up, barely even 
breathing, he saw a fourth head poke its way into view.

"You are prompt. I like zat in a man."

Erika snapped something in German and the dogs backed off. She 
reached down and offered Jack a hand. Jack accepted the invitation 
and Erika easily pulled him to his feet. Erika was dressed for their 
date in a loose fitting, long sleeved white cotton blouse, with a 
tight black skirt cut right above the knees. She looked damn good.

"Your dogs?"

"Ja."

"Your idea?"

"Zey vwere only following orders. You did vwell. Many men have vwet 
themselves upon meeting my pets."

Jack dusted himself off. "If you were a man, I'd belt you. But 
you're not. And I suppose it's a woman's right to test a man."

"I am so glad you understand. Very few men get past my dogs. At zat 
point, zey either respect me as you have, zey act like vwimps around 
me, or zey take a swing at me. Taking a swing at me is zee most 
common mistake. But zat is better than acting like a vwimp."

"So have I past all of your tests?"

Erika smiled knowingly, "Zere are many more."

Jack frowned a bit, "Has anybody passed all of your tests?"

Erika laughed, "Of course not, or I vwould be married to him bearing 
him many strong children."

Jack swallowed, "Well lets get going."

Erika climbed into the sports car. Her rottweiler jumped in the open 
door and sat down in the driver's seat. Jack walked around and 
opened the door.

"Come on boy, get out of the car."

Erika looked amused. "He does not yet speak English."

She was expecting to be amused for a few more minutes watching Jack 
trying to coax the dog out, or worse, asking her to get him out. 
What came next was a shock to both her and the dog.

"Really? Then maybe he speaks American."

Jack reached in and grabbed the one hundred and ninety pound animal by 
the collar and yanked its ass out of the car. The dog hit the ground 
and came up ready to fight. But before it could turn around, Jack 
jumped on its back and knocked it to the ground. Erika watched slack 
jawed as the two of them rolled across the front lawn. After a brief 
struggle, Jack had the dog pinned and was staring it in the muzzle. 
The two Shepherds trotted over to watch also.

"You guys want some of this?" Jack asked the puzzled canines. 
Grabbing the rottweiler's massive jaw, he asked, "How about you, you 
want some more?"

Erika's dog whimpered a bit. Jack got off of him and he slunk off to 
join his fellows. Jack hopped back in his car. He was rewarded with 
the sight of a speechless Erika.

"I've dated girls with tougher goldfish." he said as he kicked the 
427 over and squealed out of the drive.

By the time they got to the city limits, Erika didn't look too good.

"What's the matter Erika, I thought you Germans appreciated a little 
spirited driving on the Autobahn?"

"Zat vwas not zee Autobahn, und zis monster is no Porshe."

It was Jacks turn to laugh, "You and your dogs learn fast."


Jack took her to a small restaurant near his home where he had taken 
many dates before. The portions were small, the food expensive, but 
it was excellent. Erika smiled as he opened the door and held her 
chair for her. Jack winced when Erika ordered. Some of his dates had 
ordered the most expensive thing on the menu before, but she was the 
first to order three portions. When Erika found out they didn't 
serve beer, she contented herself with the bottle of wine that Jack 
had ordered. In fact, she liked it so much, she ordered a second 
bottle for herself. It helped wash down the shrimp cocktails that 
she had asked the waiter to keep bringing. When the check came, he 
asked her if she cared to arm wrestle for it.

"Vwhat a good idea," Erika said.

They locked up as they had the previous night. Jack intended to let 
her win and pay the bill herself. He could always blame an old 
injury to cover the embarrassment. On the count of three, they went 
for it. Jack started off using his full strength. Erika let her arm 
go limp. Before Jack could stop himself, he was two inches away from 
beating her. Erika started to pull her hand down towards the table. 
Jack tried to pull her arm back up, but she had too much leverage at 
that point. Her hand hit the table with a thump.

Erika smiled sweetly, "Ouch. Looks like you get the check. You are 
just too much man for a little girl like me. In fact, I give up. I 
vwill never fight you for another check."

The size of the check wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the 
way the staff was treating Erika. Everyone from the manager to the 
busboys fawned over the statuesque blonde with the easy smile. The 
French chef even came out to thank the beauty that appreciated his 
food so much. He recognized her and asked for her autograph. By the 
time he dragged her out of there, they were begging her to come 
back. Jack had been going there for five years and they didn't even 
know his name.


After lunch, Jack asked Erika if she wanted to see the youth center 
where he volunteered his time to teach kids boxing. Erika readily 
agreed. When they got there, Jack introduced her to the kids who 
were working out as the German woman's heavyweight champ. As you can 
imagine, they had a ton of questions for her.

One of the younger kids asked Jack, "Could you beat her?"

Jack responded, "Hey kid, when you're a few years older, you'll 
realize that there are more important ways of spending your time 
with a woman like Erika than fighting."

Erika smiled at his answer. One of the men who used the gym heard 
the conversation and drifted over. He was a huge bodybuilder who had 
been working out on the heavy bag with his shirt off.

"You, a heavyweight boxing champion? Lets get real here. Women can't 
fight."

Erika drifted up to him and started to put her hands all over his 
large sweaty muscles.

"Vwe are not serious about boxing. It is only a vway for us girls to 
amuse ourselves. Vwe could never hope to compete with men like you."

Running her hand down to his muscular abs, she stopped.

"Vwhat is zis I feel? A soft spot?"

"Hey! There isn't a soft spot on my whole body."

Erika stared at his middle, "It looks a little soft to me."

The man stepped back and flexed his washboard abs.

"Go ahead, take your best shot."

"I thought you vwould never ask."

Jack watched as Erika drew her fist back and sent it blurring 
towards the man's stomach. It sounded like a rifle shot when her 
bare fist cracked into his midsection. Jack could tell that the blow 
had hurt him, but man managed to keep his composure.

"See, what I mean. Nothing soft here."

"Your turn," Erika said.

"No, that's OK," the man replied.

"I insist. It is a German custom."

Erika stood in front of him. The man shrugged and threw a half 
hearted punch at her stomach. Erika looked insulted.

"Just because I'm a girl, doesn't mean you have to punch like one. 
Try again."

The man wound up and hit her with a decent punch. Erika didn't 
flinch.

"Come on now big man. Jack's little sister hits harder."

That's for damn sure, Jack thought. The man was pissed now. Stepping 
in close, he ripped a punch into Erika's middle. Erika just smiled 
at him.

"My turn."

Reluctantly, the man let her crouch in from of him and drive a right 
into his belly button. The crack was even louder than the first 
punch. The man was driven back a step. He stood there for a second 
and then fell to his knees clutching his belly. Erika walked over to 
him and patted him on the back.

"Ja, you are right. There is no soft spot. You just had a bad meal. 
Men und women should not fight. You might hurt us."

Jack led her out of the gym.

"That's nice. Now he's going to come looking for me."

"Is zat a problem?"

"Of course not. But the center is having money problems. His gym fee 
helps keep it open."

Erika felt bad for a moment, then brightened up, "I can help you get 
paying members."

"How?"

"I vwill join your gym und vwork out here."

"Well, that will replace his fee. But how will that get us more 
members?"

"I vwill vwear my cut-off tank top und short shorts and stretch in 
front of that vwindow zere. Und if zat doesn't vwork, I vwill stand 
outside the door und eat my mid-workout snack."

"I can see how you might attract a few guys if we clean the window, 
but how is your snack going to help?"

"I like to have a frozen banana which must be vwarmed with my mouth 
before I can eat it."

Jack bit his lip at the thought.

"I think we had better raise the fees around here."

Jack took Erika to a small clothing store to replace the silk blouse 
that she had burst arm wrestling with him. Unfortunately, Erika was 
not an off the rack woman. But it was almost worth the four hundred 
dollars he spent to see the look on the face of the woman who 
measured her.

After ordering her blouse, Jack showed Erika around the city and 
then took her to dinner. This time, he chose an inexpensive Italian 
restaurant. After what she had done to his wallet today, she could 
spend dinner grazing on inexpensive pasta to her heart's content.

"I love Italian," Erika said, "May I order for us?"

Looking over the prices, Jack said, "Sure Erika, surprise me."

Erika surprised him. With a word in Italian to the waiter, she 
summoned the restaurant owner. They had an animated discussion in 
Italian, after which the owner kissed her hand and strode 
purposefully towards the kitchen. Jack learned three things during 
dinner. First, Erika had spent some time in Italy. Second, Italians 
do cook with caviar and truffles. And third, dinner for two could 
run into three figures at this restaurant.

After dinner, Erika wanted to go clubbing. Cranking up his 'Vette, 
Jack took her to one of the hottest spots in town. As Erika got out 
of the car, she unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it on the seat. 
Underneath she was wearing a lace trimmed black top. It was the 
first time that Jack had gotten a good look at her body and he was 
impressed. 

"Your sister vwouldn't let me leave the house dressed like this."

"Can't imagine why."

As they passed the bouncer to go to the back of the line, he stopped 
Erika and opened the gate. 

He smiled and said, "You can go right in."

Erika pinched his cheek and breezed by him. Jack tried to follow, 
but was stopped by the man's hairy hand.

"Not you buddy."

Erika called back, "He's vwith me."

"Sorry, my mistake."

But when the bouncer spoke, he was addressing Erika. She had been in 
the friggin' city less than eight hours and she owned it. After an 
hour of dancing, Jack went to the bar to get them a couple of beers. 
His sister Sharon had actually called him that morning before he 
came over to warn him about Erika. She made it sound like Erika 
was a natural disaster. Other than the dog attack, beating up 
the muscle guy, and being the most expensive date he ever had, Jack 
liked the way the day had went so far. His sister worried too much.



Sharon wasn't pleased. It was almost Ten in the morning, and she 
couldn't get in touch with Jack or Erika. As she went out to get the 
mail, she looked towards Chicago. At least it's not burning. 
Returning to her kitchen, she unfolded the paper. Bob was opening a 
couple of cans of tuna for lunch.

"You still worried about Erika?" he asked.

"I'm not worried about Erika. She just starts the storm and stands 
in the center. Its the innocent bystanders like Jack who are left 
homeless."

Bob grinned, "Funny, I used to think the same thing about you."

"Well then maybe you'll get a hoot out of this."

Sharon tossed the paper in front of him. A story on the bottom of 
the front page read "NIGHTCLUB RIOT: Former Golden Gloves Champ 
Taken Into Custody". A picture running with the story showed a 
couple of cops hustling Jack off as other officers waded into the 
crowd.

"There's still a very small chance that Erika wasn't involved," Bob 
said.

"Look closer."

Bob scanned the picture again. In the background, he saw the tall 
blonde in the crowd. She had some guy in a headlock and was jamming 
her fist into his face.

"It could be worse. She could have made the headline. Hurricane 
Erika wipes out Chicago."

Sharon didn't laugh, "She hasn't even been gone a day yet. Give her 
time."



Jack was pissed. He had spent all of last night and most of the day 
in a holding cell before they cut him loose. And the worst part was 
that he didn't even start the riot. He had gone to get Erika a beer. 
He came back and saw her surrounded by a dozen leather clad punks. 
He wasn't exactly shocked when he saw Erika belting one of them. The 
rest of the punks jumped on her and the fight was on. Jack didn't 
hesitate as he charged in and started laying punks out. He got to 
the pile in the center of the floor and started tossing the punks 
aside like a terrier shaking rats. He got to the bottom of the pile 
and Erika wasn't there. Looking around, he was hit from behind as 
the punks got reinforcements. Fifteen minutes later, he was hauled 
off by the police with half the nightclub patrons pointing at him. 
As he was being driven off to the police station he spotted Erika 
waving good-bye from the curb. Not exactly how he was planning to end 
the night.

He called a cab and went home. When he got to his townhouse, he 
found the front door broken. Just fucking wonderful, he thought, 
I've been robbed. But when he opened the door, his nose was 
assaulted by the smell of cooking sauer kraut. Erika heard the door 
open and came out and gave him a big hug. She was wearing a large 
apron.

"I vwas so vworried about you Jack."

"My door?"

"I had no key. I let myself in."

"And what the hell was that about last night? You set me up."

Erika looked hurt, "I vwas just an innocent girl defending her 
virtue."

In truth, she had set him up. Picking fights was a talent of hers. 
It had taken her almost an hour to find a large enough group to mess 
with. She had waited until Jack was coming back from the bar and 
then took a swing at one of the punks. As the rest of them jumped on 
her, she uncharacteristically ducked them and crawled away on her 
knees. When she stood back up twenty feet away, Jack was in the 
thick of it. It couldn't have gone any better if she had paid them. 
Jack had been magnificent. He didn't hesitate to come for her. 
Punks had flown left and right as he cleared them out of his way. It 
was like watching a lion chase a bunch of hyenas. She was as 
surprised as Jack when the second group showed up. Jack was hit from 
behind with a beer bottle and went down. Erika started to push her 
way through the crowd to get to him when she saw three punks go 
flying through the air. Jack exploded back to his feet. Erika had 
never been so hot for a man before as she was at that moment. Too 
bad the police took him away.

Grabbing him by the hand, she said, "Come, I cooked dinner for you."

As Erika led him to the kitchen, he could see that she wasn't 
wearing anything under her apron except a pair of cotton panties. 
Jack bit his lip as he watched the muscles rolling in her back and 
ass. The woman had more moving parts than a Swiss watch. Chicken and 
kraut wasn't Jack's idea of a good combination, but he politely ate 
it because Erika told him that he was the first man other than her 
father that she had cooked for.   

After dinner was over, Jack asked hopefully, "What's for dessert?"

Erika didn't reply. She hooked her thumbs around the apron straps 
and broke them with a loud snap. The apron fell to the ground 
leaving her naked except for her white panties. Jack could see for 
the first time just how perfect her body was. She was muscular, but 
she wasn't bulky. Her broad shoulders tapered to a thin waist. 
Erika's breasts were small for her frame as a result of her training 
and diet, but they would still make a handful. Her nipples were very 
dark and contrasted with her full body golden tan. 

Erika started to pose like a bodybuilder. Her muscles rippled under 
her skin like they had a mind of their own. Her biceps were large 
and round. Her pects were thick and well defined. She had washboard 
abs. Her legs were large, but not cut as well as her upper body. 
Typical for a boxer. By the time she finished, she was glowing with 
a sheen of perspiration. A small trickle of sweat had formed between 
her breasts and rolled down to her belly button. Finishing her 
routine, Erika started to rub up against him like a cat.

"Actually, I was thinking of ice cream."

Jack wasn't prepared for the knee in the stomach. He folded with a 
"Whooff". Erika reached down his pants.

"Big Jack vwants me for dessert!" she proclaimed.

Before he could react, Erika picked him up in a fireman's carry and 
sprinted for the stairs. Jack barely avoided smashing his head as 
Erika took the stairs two at a time. Kicking open the door, Erika 
dumped him on his bed and climbed on top. Buttons went flying as she 
ripped his shirt open.

"This is rape!" Jack protested.

Erika stopped, "You do not vwant me?"

"Of course I do!"

"Zen shut up und brace yourself."

Jack didn't get any sleep until late the next morning when Erika 
left to go shopping. Halfway through the night, his bed frame had 
broken under the strain. They finished up and dumped the mattress on 
the floor. Before he lost consciousness that morning, he had two 
realizations. He realized that he was in love with the young German 
dynamo, and that she had taken the keys for his 'Vette. He drifted 
off with a silent prayer that his car would be returned safely.



The next morning, Jack and Erika pulled in front of Sharon's house 
in a new Porshe. Sharon burst out the door with Bob following 
behind. Jack looked like shit. His face was messed up and his arm 
was in a cast.

"Where the hell have you two been. You left for a lunch date three 
days ago! I called, I knocked on the door, I checked the hospitals. 
Come on! Right here, right now, which one of you wants to go first."

"Lighten up sis," Jack said, "You should be happy for us. Erika 
sicked her dogs on me, emptied my wallet, got me into a gang fight, 
got me arrested, punched me out, broke my arm, destroyed my car, she 
even broke my bed," Jack smiled.

"Then this shouldn't matter much," Sharon said as she buried her 
fist in the pit of his stomach sending him down on the lawn.

Erika tried to grab her arm, "Vwait, you do not understand."

Another punch put Erika down next to Jack.

"You two stooges had better have a good explanation for this," 
Sharon fumed.

"Show her," Jack gasped.

Erika extended a hand towards Sharon. A large diamond caught the 
afternoon sun.

"Oh shit. That isn't what I think it is?"

"Yep," Jack replied, "You just decked your future sister-in-law."

"It isn't the first time," Erika said rubbing her jaw.

Sharon reached down and helped them up.

Wrapping her arms around them, she smiled and said, "Well why didn't 
you say so."

"Because you hit me," Jack replied.

Sharon ignored the comment, "So what made you two kids decide to get 
hitched?" she asked.

"Jack is a superior man who passed all my tests und vwill give me 
many strong children," Erika replied.

"She's a knockout," Jack said simply.

"Glad you two kids thought it out carefully," Sharon said.

"It doesn't hurt that she's rich also," Jack grinned.

"Rich?"

"Yeah, she bought me this car when she wrecked my 'Vette."

"Really? Did Erika mention that she owes me and Bob twelve million 
dollars. Since you're marrying her, your share comes to six million."

"You're kidding, right?"

Erika shrugged, Sharon smiled, and Bob nodded.

"And I hope you have a large backyard behind your townhouse. 
Because when you and Erika get married, I'm going to be dropping 
those damn dogs off before the receptions over. That is, unless you 
want to take them now."

Bob put an arm around Jack and steered him towards the house.

"You look like you could use a drink. Lets go inside and I'll tell 
you what you have to look forward to."

Sharon grabbed Erika.

"I thought I told you not to hurt my brother."

"I didn't," she started to protest, "Vwell, not more than..." 
Erika's silent incident count was cut short with another punch to 
the jaw.

"Welcome to the family," Sharon said as she helped Erika back up.

"Thank you," Erika replied with a shot to Sharon's gut.

Bob poured Jack a scotch as the two women beat the shit out of each 
other on the front lawn.

"Shouldn't we try to stop them?" Jack asked.

Bob shook his head, "You've got a lot to learn. Lesson number one..."



        THE PRIZEFIGHT XVI: Erika Makes Her Circuit Debut
        -------------------------------------------------

Sharon woke up a half hour before dawn to start her morning workout. 
She checked Erika's room and frowned when she saw that Erika hadn't 
come back from her date with her brother Jack. Erika and Jack had 
become engaged after a whirlwind romance. Sharon had come to accept 
that Erika would be her sister-in-law after testing her sincerity on 
the front lawn. What was bothering Sharon was Erika's lack of 
discipline. Erika was scheduled to fight her first American circuit 
match next week and she had been missing workouts. Sharon knew that 
Erika wouldn't have any trouble taking out her opponent, but she 
also knew that the path Erika was taking wouldn't last in the long 
run. At twenty two years of age, the German girl had been making 
her way on youthful vitality. Sharon was going to have to get that 
idea through the girl's thick skull soon. Particularly if she 
intended to become family. Sharon heard Erika's dogs barking 
excitedly and then the front door opened.

"Look what the cat dragged in. You're late."

"Sorry Sharon, just give me five minutes to change und vwe can start 
our run. How about an extra two miles today?" Erika smiled.

Ah, to be twenty two again. Truth be told, Erika looked a hell of a 
lot better after staying out all night than she did first thing in 
the morning. The six foot tall German girl was dressed in a 
pink tank top, black leather mini, and high heels. Her long blonde 
hair was mussed, and Sharon saw blood stains on her top.

Sharon frowned, "You've been fighting again."

Erika looked defensive, "It's your brother's fault."

"How is it my brother's fault?"

"A very rude drunk came over and saw my muscles. He said I looked 
like a man. I told him that I vwas more man than he vwould ever be. 
I then took a cocktail vweiner from zee bar und dropped it down his 
pants. I told him it might help. Zee drunk got angry und took a 
swing at me. I had to defend myself against him, his friends, und 
another guy at a club two hours later."

"How in the hell is that my brother's fault?"

"He should have defended my honor. After all, he is the man."

Sharon shook her head, "I don't want to hear any more. You've got 
three minutes to meet me outside."

Sharon watched as Erika bounded up the stairs three at a time. That 
girl was going to be the death of her. She wondered if Jack was 
still able to walk this morning. After all, her brother was a couple 
of years older than she was.

Sharon took Erika up on her offer to go an extra two miles that 
morning. She was glad to see the German girl dragging a bit as they 
got home. Maybe she'd get the message. Maybe not, she thought as she 
saw Erika go right for the phone to call Jack.

"Going out again tonight?" Sharon asked after Erika hung up.

"Ja, Jack vwill be by at seven. You don't mind, do you?"

Sharon smiled sweetly, "I'll make you a deal. You put in a good 
workout with me this afternoon, and I won't say a word."

"It's a deal. Thanks Sharon." 

Don't thank me yet, Sharon thought as she went to prepare lunch. 
Sharon started to whip up a large batch of pasta. She was going to 
need plenty of energy to carry out her plans for this afternoon. 
Erika came in from feeding her dogs. They didn't eat much red meat, 
but those dogs sure as hell did. Sharon called Erika into the kitchen 
and placed a bowl of pasta in front of her. Sharon had stopped using 
a plate to feed the girl weeks ago. Why use a plate when you have to 
refill it two or three times. She now ate out of a large mixing 
bowl. Sharon looked out the kitchen window where Erika's rottweiler 
was wolfing down its food. She then glanced over at Erika. Beyond 
the fact that one was on all fours, she didn't see much difference.

After lunch, Sharon jumped in her Bronco and took Erika down to the 
boxing gym that she owned with her husband Bob. The two women went 
in the weight room, did a warm-up set, then stretched. Sharon then 
started the longest, heaviest workout she had ever attempted. And 
Erika didn't disappoint her, as the German's competitive nature came 
out. Sharon benched a personal best of three hundred, Erika benched 
three twenty. Sharon squatted three ten, Erika squatted three 
fifteen. Sharon curled one fifty and was happy to see Erika crap out 
at one forty. After nearly two hours in the weight room, Sharon 
unbuckled her belt and declared the workout over. 

Erika started to head for the showers, but was halted when Sharon 
said, "Hold on there. We aren't finished yet. We've got to work on 
your boxing skills."

Sharon led the sweaty blonde into the main hall where the boxing 
rings were. She then took Erika through a one hour drill on the 
various punching bags. By the time they were done, Erika was 
drenched in sweat. Her long blonde hair was hanging in strings and 
she was huffing a bit. She looks bad, Sharon thought, but not bad 
enough.

"Good workout Erika! Really first rate."

Erika looked relieved.

"Now climb into that ring and shadowbox, while I round up a few 
sparring partners for you."

Erika's face fell and she reluctantly climbed into the ring. 

Sharon went over to a group of men talking near the water fountain and 
asked, "Hey guys, you see Erika in the ring over there?"

The men where well aware of the muscular six foot tall blonde moving 
around the ring dressed in shorts and a sweaty tank top, no bra. 
She had been causing eyestrain all over the gym since she had 
arrived. They nodded noncommittally.

"Well she needs some sparring partners. She's been complaining that 
American men just can't keep up with her. She told me that if she 
could find a man her that could put her down, she'd go out with him. 
And just between us, Erika is easy. That is, once you get by the 
boxing part. Anybody who wants to take their chances can have one 
round with her. The line starts over there. Spread it around."

Within five minutes, a large group of men had assembled around the 
ring.

"Vwhat is going on?" Erika asked as Sharon returned ringside.

"I was asking around for sparring partners, and the guys said that 
you were overrated. They said that they were more man than you could 
handle. They told me that any one of them could put you on your ass 
inside of one round. It's been a long day, maybe we should quit 
before you get hurt."

Anger flashed on Erika's face, "Zey said vwhat?" Addressing the 
small crowd of men, she declared, "Anybody who zinks zey are man 
enough, I vwill fight here und now."

Shit, Sharon thought, I could have charged them to fight Erika. She 
let the fourth challenger through the ropes. Erika had knocked out 
and bloodied the first three, but she was slowing down. The fourth 
man actually got in a few good shots before she ruined his plans 
with an uppercut to the chin. Erika had to face seven more 
challengers before the men gave up. She only managed to knock out 
two more of them, and had to go the full three minutes with the rest. 
To her credit, she was never in any real danger of going down 
herself. By the time she got out of the ring, she was dog tired and 
looked like shit. Perfect, Sharon thought.

After they had gotten cleaned up and dressed, Sharon drove them 
back home. A hundred yards before they reached the driveway, she 
killed the ignition. Cursing their luck, she told Erika to push the 
heavy vehicle uphill while she steered. Within five minutes, Erika 
had gotten the truck thirty feet from the path to the front door. 

"Keep going Erika, I don't want to walk. OK, that's good."

Sharon jumped out of the truck. Walking behind it, she found Erika 
slumped on the asphalt leaning against the bumper sucking wind. 
Sharon was going to apologize for leaving the emergency brake on, 
but she thought better of it. They were home now, and Erika looked 
like she still had enough energy left to sick the dogs on her. By 
the time they got through the front door it was five thirty. Erika 
excused herself and went to her room to take a nap before Jack came 
to pick her up. Sharon smirked as she saw Erika crawl up the stairs 
like an old woman. Bob came home just before Seven. He gave Sharon a 
peck on the cheek as he passed her in the kitchen.

"Hey babe, I gave a quick visit to the gym just before I came home. 
Half the guys in there were all messed up. They said Erika offered 
herself to the man who could beat her. You don't know anything about 
that, do you?"

"Damned right I do. I'm trying to downgrade hurricane Erika to a 
tropical storm. She blows in at dawn this morning, and then has the 
audacity to make another date for tonight. So I decided to teach her 
a little lesson about burning the candle at both ends. I've been 
working our little princess for twelve straight hours. Hell, I can 
barely move after what we just did, and she did most of the work. 
When Jack shows up in five minutes, Cinderella ain't going to be 
ready for the ball. And after I drag her out of bed tomorrow 
morning, I'm going to do it again."

"Good plan honey, I hope it works for her sake."

"It'll work. I hear Jack pulling up now and you don't see Erika 
running down the stairs, do you?"

"Well, actually..."

Erika's door burst open and she slid down the balustrade. She was 
fully made up and dressed to kill in a white mini-dress. Sprinting by 
Sharon and Bob, she yanked the door open before Jack had a chance to 
knock.

"Don't vwait up," she said as she blew out the door.

"Un-fucking believable. She couldn't have gotten more than fifteen 
minutes of rest. Not one word Bob."

"How about three words honey? Hot oil massage."

"It'll help," Sharon sighed.



The next morning, Sharon heard Erika returning at three. At least I 
slowed her down a bit, she thought as she drifted back to sleep. 
That evening, Bob called the Board to finalize the arrangements for 
Erika's circuit debut. Since Erika had been a renowned fighter in 
Germany, and had beaten the German men's champion, Bob had no trouble 
in arranging a fight for her on the national circuit. Now Sharon 
wanted to make a few changes. Bob was on the phone with one of the 
Board's event coordinators.

"No, no problems Bill, Erika will be there. What I wanted to talk to 
you about was changing the card. No, Erika will still fight him. 
What we're afraid of is that he won't make for a very good show. We 
feel that Erika can easily handle more than one opponent. In fact 
we were thinking of..."

Sharon flashed him three fingers.

"...three opponents. Of course, such an exciting event should be 
worth more to you, but we don't expect three times as much."

Sharon left Bob to work out the financial details. She knew that 
Erika would have easily destroyed her original opponent, and then 
she might not take the circuit seriously. Sharon knew from 
experience that the circuit was a brutal and dangerous environment 
where a fighter could easily be killed if she didn't have her head 
together. She was hoping that Erika would run into some trouble her 
first time out, so that she would pay a little more attention to her 
training. Sharon was also hoping that by defeating three opponents, 
Bob would be in a better position to negotiate Erika's next fight. 
Erika owed them a mountain of money for her contract. Bob and Sharon 
were willing to call it even, but Erika insisted on paying them 
back. Sharon felt it was her responsibility to see that she did it 
in the shortest amount of time with the least possible risk. She 
also wanted Erika to have a few bucks in the bank before she married 
Jack. Bob hung up the phone and looked at Sharon.

"They're willing to triple the original price."

"That's damned good of them. Too damned good. What's the catch?"

"Her third opponent just arrived in the States, and has never fought 
before in the western world. He's commonly recognized as the African 
champion."

Sharon frowned, "Do we know anything about him?"

"I'll do some research, but I didn't even know Africa had a 
champion. Since he is a champion, he's bound to be tough. But since 
he's willing to fight by circuit rules, his style of fighting 
can't be too different."

"How about the other two opponents?"

"The first is just the dumb kid that Erika was supposed to fight 
originally. The second is Tex."

"Tex is still fighting? Well that could make for an interesting 
match. Erika had better be careful. She might just learn something. 
That's fine. But this African champion thing bothers me. Call them 
back and tell them that since they want to pit two champions against 
each other, that makes it a championship fight. We want five times 
the original contract price."

Bob made the call. Within a few minutes he had an answer.

"They made me a counter offer. They will pay ten times the original 
price if you personally guarantee the fight."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"If Erika loses, you fight the African champion for free."

"Bullshit. I'd get more fighting him myself. You call them back and 
tell them we'll agree for twenty times the price."

Bob wasn't on the phone for more than thirty seconds this time.

"They agreed without even trying to haggle, and you know what that 
means. This guy must be a major badass."

Sharon checked the clock, "Do me a favor Bob, go out and find Jack 
and Erika. They should be easy to find. It's time for Erika's 
evening feed. Haul her ass back here. If she gives you any shit, 
tell her I'll be waiting for her on the front lawn. She's going to 
bed every night by nine if I have to tuck her in with a right cross."

Bob went out and found the couple right where Sharon said they would 
be. Jack didn't mind ending the night early, but Erika had a major 
problem with the idea. Bob delivered Sharon's threat, and Erika 
stalked out with him. He was afraid that it would come down to a 
showdown on the front lawn. When they arrived home, Sharon was 
waiting for her.

"I've tried to be patient with you Erika. I've been trying to make 
you see my point without preaching, but we're out of time now. 
You're going to change right now."

Sharon stood in front of Erika. She was relaxed with her arms by her 
side.

"Hit me."

Erika flicked a jab at Sharon. Sharon stepped back a foot, and it 
fell short.

"Is that the best you can do? Try again."

Erika lashed out with a straight right. Sharon moved a bit to one 
side, and the punch whizzed harmlessly by her head.

"Again." Sharon commanded.

Erika threw a combination. Again, Sharon effortlessly avoided her 
punches. Erika got frustrated and threw a big roundhouse right. 
Sharon ducked, and then put Erika down with a short uppercut. Erika 
sat on the grass in her white dress rubbing her jaw.
 
"You're younger, stronger, and faster than I am. You shouldn't have 
missed from that range, and you should have seen that punch coming. 
The reason you didn't, is that you've had about five hours of sleep 
this week. You might think that you can keep it up for ever, but 
you can't. I don't care how many guys you beat up in the gym today. 
You try fighting on the national circuit in this condition, and 
you're going to get fucked up badly. Bob and I brought you back to 
America. I've treated you like a sister. I've never asked for 
anything before. Tonight we talked to the Board. I had to put my ass 
on the line for you. You have a responsibility to me, Bob, and now 
my brother Jack. That responsibility is to stay healthy for the 
people who care about you. Right now, you're failing us. You're 
failing me."

Sharon wheeled around and went back into the house. Erika broke down 
and started crying in the middle of the lawn. The next morning, 
Sharon got up at dawn to start her morning workout. When she got 
downstairs, Erika was ready and waiting for her. Without saying a 
word, Sharon went over and gave her a hug.

"I'm sorry Sharon," Erika said, "I never had a sister before. I 
vwon't fail you."

"I hope you realize I'm not trying to be a hardass. I don't want to 
break your spirit. But I worry about you. Even if you didn't have a 
fight coming up, we'd have had that conversation eventually."

"Nobody has cared about me like you have since my father died. I 
appreciate zat you are vwatching out for me, und I promise to do 
better."

True to her word, Erika was in bed every night by nine. Sharon eased 
up on her training schedule to let her build her energy reserves for 
the coming fight. Sharon had a chat with Jack, and he didn't mind 
restricting his contact with Erika to lunch dates. He was actually 
relieved. Erika had been killing him. 


A week later, Sharon and Erika flew out to Las Vegas for Erika's 
fight. Sharon and Bob knew that it would be impossible to hide 
Erika's activities from Jack. So they decided that it would be best 
if Bob stayed at home with Jack and watched the fight off of the 
satellite feed. Jack was no fool. He would see how brutal the 
circuit matches were. But there was a major difference between 
seeing it on TV, and experiencing it in person. Jack just wasn't 
ready for that yet. The two men sat in front of a big screen 
television which displayed the image of a six sided boxing ring.
Bob looked at Jack. He was clearly nervous. Bob was nervous also, 
but he was supposed to be a calming influence on Jack, so he tried 
not to show it.

"So let me get this straight," Jack said, "Three minute rounds with 
one minute breaks. No gloves. No real referee. First fighter to be 
out for twenty seconds loses. Jesus, how can fighters survive with 
rules like that?"

"It's a lot like boxing used to be a hundred years ago. Those 
fighters didn't think anything of a thirty rounder. I won't kid you. 
These fights are much more dangerous. Not because of the rules, but 
because the fighters are a lot stronger than they were back then. 
These fights usually don't last more than a few rounds."

"How could you stand to watch Sharon go through this?"

"It's not easy. But after watching her fight a few times, I came to 
the conclusion that she could take care of herself. Damned if I know 
how she manages to keep winning. Sometimes I think Sharon wasn't 
born on this planet."

"Hmm. You might have something there. I always wondered if she was 
adopted when we were kids and she used to kick my ass on a regular 
basis. Where did you learn to box Bob?"

"In there," Bob pointed to the six sided ring.

"You used to fight on the circuit?"

Bob nodded. "I was an army ranger. When my hitch was up, I went out 
into the world looking for some excitement. I was a dumb kid, and I 
started picking up some extra cash fighting. I didn't know a thing 
about boxing back then. One thing led to another, and a few years 
later I was a contender for the national championship. I never did 
get my shot. A motorcycle accident put me in the hospital for six 
months. I fought a few more times after I got out, but I wasn't 
nearly good enough anymore. I had a pile of money saved up, so I 
retired. One day the Board asked me if I'd like to be a trainer. I 
was bored out of my mind, so I took the job. That's how I met 
Sharon. The rest is history."

Jack was stunned, and not just by Bob's background. It was the most 
he had ever heard the man say. On the screen, Sharon and Erika where 
approaching the ring. 

"Jesus H., Erika's not wearing anything!" Jack exclaimed.

Erika wasn't naked, but she was stripped to the waist. She was 
wearing black spandex bottoms with a bright red sash. Oil gleamed on 
her torso. Her golden blonde hair contrasted against her tanned 
skin. Despite her muscles and her relatively small breasts, nobody 
would mistake her for a man. Erika's body was the ultimate 
expression of strength and feminine grace. The crowd went wild as 
Erika waved to them. 

"Oops. I forgot to mention that part. Tradition demands that 
fighters be stripped to the waist. But it can be an advantage. 
Sharon won a lot of easy victories over men who were watching her 
tits when they should have been looking her in the face. Think 
there's a lesson to be learned there?"

Bob and Jack looked at each other for a few seconds, then they both 
went, "Naaaaa."

That's good, Bob thought. Jack's relaxing a bit. 



Erika was excited. She hadn't fought for months, and she was enjoying 
the adrenaline rush brought on by the crowd's cheers. The announcer's 
voice boomed through the private arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we have a very special series of 
contests. Introducing at six feet, one hundred and ninety nine 
pounds, with a record of thirty five and one, her only loss at the 
hands of her current manager, and our former circuit champion Sharon 
Moore, the German champion, Erika Shotze!"

Sharon was pleased to note that the applause was loudest just after 
her name was mentioned. Can't let the girl get a swelled head just 
yet.

"Tonight Erika will be facing three opponents. The first, at six 
one, weighing two hundred and twenty pounds, with a record of 
nineteen wins, six losses, the former Atlanta champion, Ruben Blade!"

A young man with tattoos all over his body raised his hands to 
scattered applause. Sharon slapped Erika on the back and sent her 
into the ring.

"Watch out for him, he's fast for a man," Sharon advised. "And take 
your time. Get warmed up for your next opponent."

The bell sounded, and Erika's new career began. She closed on Ruben. 
The man was new since Sharon had left, and had never fought a woman. 
He proved he didn't have a problem trying to hit one as he fired a 
series of lightning fast jabs at Erika. She put on an awesome show 
of defensive skill as she bobbed and weaved. Sharon felt a lot 
better. The week of forced rest had done the trick. This was the 
Erika that she had faced in Germany. Two minutes into the round, 
Erika hadn't even thrown her first punch. The man was clearly 
getting frustrated. He dropped his hands and said something to Erika 
as she danced in front of him on the balls of her feet. Sharon 
couldn't hear what he said, but its effect on Erika was immediate. 
She stopped dancing and dropped her hands. Sharon had never seen 
that expression on Erika's face before. She had seen her pissed, but 
this went beyond that. Erika got right in the man's face and said 
something back to him. He laughed and tried to catch her by surprise 
with a right. Erika moved her head and let it sail past. Her next 
move was so fast, most of the crowd didn't even see it happen. 
Bringing her right hand up from her side, she slapped Ruben across 
the face so hard that it sounded like a whip cracking in the small 
arena. He staggered from the unexpected pain holding the side of his 
face. Erika said something else to him. Sharon made out the man's 
reply this time: Fuck you bitch. She didn't need to know the 
question to know that was the wrong answer. Erika moved in again. 
Ruben threw a left hook at her. She blocked his punch with her right 
forearm and delivered another hard slap to the other side of Ruben's 
face. 

The bell rang, but neither fighter was backing off. Sharon jumped 
through the ropes and moved to Erika's side. She didn't try to 
restrain her. You never restrained your fighter while she's still 
facing an opponent. Ruben's attendants weren't that smart. Two of 
them grabbed his arms and hauled him back. Erika darted in, put her 
hands on their chests, and pushed. All three men fell backwards on 
the canvas. The crowd roared with laughter. Seeing her opportunity, 
Sharon moved around in front of Erika and herded her back into her 
corner.

"Calm down Erika. We've both been called fucking bitches before. 
Treating another fighter like that could be considered disrespectful 
to the circuit itself. Especially since this is your first fight."

"He called me a nazi bitch! A nazi bitch! I asked him to apologize. 
Zen he called me a fucking bitch. The closed fist is for men. He is 
not a man until he apologizes to me."

Sharon studied Erika's face. It was clear that there were some 
deeply held convictions involved here. Fuck the circuit.

"Do what you have to do," she stated simply.

Sharon could see the finger marks striping Ruben's cheeks as he 
answered the bell. They met in the center of the ring. Erika spoke 
to him. Sharon knew she was demanding her apology. Ruben made his 
reply and spit on the floor. Erika backhanded him across the face. 
Sharon guessed that he was still unwilling to apologize. Erika put 
on a similar show of avoiding the man's punches as she had in the 
first round. But this time, she was answering back with her open 
hand. In one particularly painful looking exchange, she ducked 
under a wild swing and smacked him right over his belly button as 
she moved behind him. The slap left a perfect red hand mark on his 
stomach. Towards the end of the round, it wasn't even looking like a 
fight anymore. It looked more like a mother beating her child as he 
tried to huddle in a corner. Sharon almost felt sorry for the man, 
but he had to live with his words. Erika disdainfully turned her 
back on the man and walked away when the bell sounded.

Erika met Ruben in the center of the ring at the start of round 
three. The man said something, and Erika promptly knocked him out 
with an uppercut. He didn't even stir during the twenty count.

"Get your apology?" Sharon asked as Erika returned to the corner.

"Ja. I accepted it, even though I do not think he meant it.

"You're too damn nice sometimes."

"Ja. I think so to."



Back outside of Chicago, Bob slapped Jack on the back. 

"Having some second thoughts about your fiancee?" he asked.

"God, I didn't know she was capable of doing something like that."

"To tell you the truth, neither did I. I don't know what the hell 
that guy did to piss her off, but I'm sure he deserved it. He has a 
reputation for being an asshole."



The announcer reentered the ring.

"Congratulations to Erika for her first win on the circuit. She will 
now engage her second opponent in a more conventional contest. 
Introducing, at six four, two hundred and forty pounds, with a 
record of twenty six and eight, the former Houston champion, Randall 
Tex Slobinowitz."

A large man in a cowboy hat strode up the aisle and entered the 
ring. He had a large mustache and a roll of fat around his middle.
He was clearly past his prime.

Sharon leaned over to Erika and said, "Did you hear that stuff about 
a more conventional contest? That was the Board's way of saying cut 
that shit out. You're still a guest here. You shouldn't have any 
problems with Tex here though. This guy's a friend of Bob's. Try to 
take him out cleanly if you can. But watch yourself, he's got a lot 
more experience than both of us combined."

Erika almost laughed as Tex spit in his palms and lumbered out to 
the center of the ring to meet her. The man was so slow it was 
ridiculous. Erika circled and flicked a jab at him. It connected, 
but he had leaned back to minimize the impact. Erika jabbed again. 
Tex tried to respond with a jab of his own. Erika ducked and buried 
her fist in his fat belly. She frowned when the punch didn't get any 
response from the man. She sparred with him for another minute   
landing blows at will. But she couldn't seem to get the opportunity 
to do any serious damage, let alone take him out. Was it her 
imagination, or was Tex a hell of a lot better than he looked? Tex 
answered the question for her. Erika jabbed him in the face again, 
hoping to set up her big right. This time the man responded faster 
than she could react. As her fist flicked out in front of his face, 
Tex chopped down on her elbow. Erika found herself off balance 
and bent over. Tex took advantage of her awkward position with a 
left uppercut to her jaw. Erika flipped onto her back like a turtle.



Bob was on his feet, "Holy shit, that was a beautiful punch. Did you 
see that hook? Can't do that in a regular boxing match." 

"Who the hell's side are you on?" Jack asked.

"Sorry, I got carried away. That guy's a friend of mine. We used to 
workout together. Don't worry, I still don't think he stands a 
chance against Erika. Besides, Sharon was hoping she'd learn a 
little respect for the circuit, and Tex is just the guy to teach 
her."



Erika rolled right back to her feet before the count could start. 
She was hot. The bell sounded before she could close again.

"You're lucky the bell sounded."

"I vwill rip him apart for zat!"

"Listen to me. Tex foxed you. You go back in there and fight him 
angry, he's just liable to knock you out. Now you sit there and 
think about what to do. You can't tell me you don't have a trick or 
two from Germany."

Erika stood in the corner fuming. Sharon thought she could almost 
see the light bulb form over her head as the corners of her mouth 
turned upwards into a smile. The bell sounded and Erika squared off 
with Tex. They traded a few punches to start the round, then Erika 
backed off a bit. She stuck her left pointing finger in her mouth 
and started sucking on it. Tex's eyes widened in surprise. She then 
took her wet finger out of her mouth and slowly circled her nipple 
as she danced just out of range. Erika watched Tex's eyes following 
her finger down as she traced a line from her cleavage to her 
crotch. Tex was paying rapt attention to the show. What he didn't 
notice was the way Erika was slowly edging closer. Just as her left 
hand touched her inner thigh, her right fist rocketed up and caught 
him right on the chin. Sharon had shown her the punch, and it never 
failed. As Tex's head bobbed back down, Erika crossed his jaw with a 
perfect left-right combination. Tex fell flat on his face. Sharon 
suddenly wished she wasn't managing the blonde bombshell under her 
own name.



Bob looked over at Jack. "I think your girlfriend just ruined the 
circuit. We're all going to wake up with broken legs tomorrow."

"My girlfriend? You're the ones who brought her here. Don't blame 
me. I just wish I could say that was the first time I've seen 
her do that in public."



"Thanks Erika. I fought on the circuit for four years. I'm not a 
feminist. I didn't do it for women everywhere. But I was hoping that 
I could bring opportunities and respect to women who chose to 
participate in this sport. But I was all wrong in my approach. In 
ten seconds you just proved that any woman with a background in 
table dancing, escort services, or centerfold modeling, who also 
possesses a decent uppercut, can go straight to the top."

"So you think that I can bring even more vwomen into the sport? Zat 
is a big responsibility. I vwill continue to do my best."

Sharon shook her head in frustration. God help you, she thought, if 
I ever find out that there really isn't a language or cultural 
barrier between us, and that you've just been fucking with me all 
this time. Because if I ever do find out you understand me, I'm 
going to kick your ass in the biggest pay-per-view event the circuit 
has ever seen. The announcer took the center of the ring.

"Our main event tonight pits the German champion Erika against the 
African champion Mombollo. This fight has been guaranteed by Erika's 
manager Sharon. If Erika loses, Sharon will fight Mombollo. And now 
introducing, at six eleven, three hundred and five pounds, with an 
unknown record, the African giant, Mombollo!"

Holy shit, Sharon thought, as she saw Mombollo enter the arena. 
Nobody said anything about a giant. The black man was well muscled, 
but relatively thin. Relative to his height that is. There wasn't a 
body part on him that didn't dwarf Erika. He looked more like a 
basketball player than a boxer. Sharon estimated that his reach 
advantage would be about a foot. That would be like her fighting a 
ten year old girl. Outwardly, she tried not to show any anxiety. 
Glancing over at Erika, she gained even more respect for Teutonic 
beauty. She didn't seem worried at all as the man stepped over the 
third rope.

"I vwill send him back out over zee third rope," Erika predicted.

The expression "more balls than brains" popped into Sharon's head.

"I wish I could give you some advice in this situation, but I've 
never had an opponent with that kind of reach advantage on me. The 
ring's not big enough to dance around him. The only thing I can 
suggest is to get in close where he has less leverage. The rules 
permit it, so hit him from behind if you can."

"Zat is not an honorable vway to vwin."

Sharon suddenly realized what Erika was. She wasn't German. She was   
Klingon. And an extreme one at that.

"You're going to preach to me about honor after the way you just won 
the last two fights?"

In another classic example of Erika logic, she responded, "Those 
vwere not champion fights, zey do not count."

Mombollo didn't move very far when the bell sounded. He didn't have 
to. He could almost reach across the ring and hit Erika in her 
corner. When Erika got near the center of the ring, she was clipped 
trying to avoid a jab. It wasn't really her fault. She had never 
trained with a man that had fists the size of toasters. Erika was 
having a great deal of trouble trying to get past the man's guard. 
Even when he missed, there was no time to get in before he was ready 
for her again. Patience was never one of Erika's virtues. Damning 
the consequences, she tried following his hand back to his body on 
the next jab. Mombollo was able to catch Erika coming in with a 
short shot to her face. Erika didn't care, she was inside now, and 
it was time to earn her money. She fired a pair of hard body shots 
to the man's midsection before she was forced to duck a fist flying 
at the side of her head. She was tempted to give him a quick shot to 
the balls, but the man hadn't done anything to deserve that yet. 
Straightening up, she hit him twice more in the stomach. She tried to 
block a punch with her arm and hit him with an uppercut, the only 
punch that could really hit his face. Mombollo just moved his head 
back and let her relatively tiny fist slice through the air. A left 
hook to Erika's ribs sent her skittering a foot to one side. 

Fuck this, Erika thought, Sharon was right. Before Mombollo could 
face her again, Erika ducked around behind him and slammed her fists 
into his kidneys. Mombollo stiffened and screamed, more from rage 
than pain. The man tried to turn around to face his tormentor, but 
Erika managed to mirror his movements while she continued to pound 
him. What happened to Erika next was due to her lack of experience 
on the circuit. She had never fought in a six sided ring before. As 
she circled behind Mombollo, she got dangerously close to the ropes. 
Mombollo twisted around again and Erika started to move. But this 
time, she ran right into the ropes. Before she could escape, she was 
nailed in the back of the head by Mombollo's swinging elbow. 

Erika was staggered. The ring was spinning around her. It would have 
been better for her if she had gone down and used the twenty count 
to recover. But instead, she instinctively grabbed the ropes and 
managed to stay up. Mombollo completed the turn and found his prey 
helpless before him. Sharon felt sick as she saw him slowly draw his 
fist back and send it smashing into her sternum. Erika was snapped 
back, then catapulted forward off the ropes. Mombollo caught her 
face first with his waiting elbow. Sharon knew it was over when she 
heard Erika's skull crack as if she had walked into a low pipe. So 
the first elbow wasn't a lucky shot, she thought. Sharon wasn't 
worried about Erika. She would be OK. The girl's skull was mostly 
bone. Sharon was thinking ahead. Since Erika had lost, she was next.



"What the fuck kind of chicken shit rules allow elbows?" Jack was 
yelling.

"You weren't complaining when Erika was hitting him from behind," 
Bob noted.

"That's different... Erika was... she..." Jack sputtered.

"I know exactly how you feel. I can't say I've ever seen anybody use 
their elbows like that in a circuit match, but pretty much any way 
you can hit somebody is legal. Erika was lucky tonight. Most 
fighters don't lose that easily. It's Sharon I'm worried about. 
She's going to have to fight him next."



Mombollo was storming around the ring as Erika was counted out. He 
was gesturing and saying something in his native tongue. At the end 
of his tirade he pointed down at Erika, and then at Sharon. Sharon 
didn't need a translator to know that he had just told her that he 
was going to kick her ass just like Erika's, and why the hell 
couldn't he get a decent fight in this country. The man obviously 
didn't know her very well, or he wouldn't be shooting off his mouth 
like that. Sharon jumped through the ropes at the count of twenty to 
help Erika. She was just beginning to stir.

"Vwhat happened?" she asked.

"You're thirty five and two now," Sharon replied as she looked Erika 
over.

Erika looked OK. Two large lumps were starting to swell where 
Mombollo's elbows had hit her. As soon as they got out of here, 
Sharon was going to make sure that Erika got her thick skull x-rayed.
As Sharon helped Erika to her feet, Mombollo came over and started 
talking trash. Sharon felt Erika start to lunge for him. She 
quickly restrained the girl with her arm.

"It's my turn now Erika."

Sharon got in the man's face and started giving it back to him.

"You goat humping, limp dicked, sorry excuse for a man. You think 
you can beat me? Do you even think you could beat Erika again, now 
that we've seen your wussy bullshit style of fighting? Do you know 
what your problem is? You're trying to compensate for the only part 
of your body that isn't oversized."

Mombollo was getting pissed. It was clear that he was not used to 
being talked to in this fashion by a mere woman. Sharon illustrated 
her last comment with some universal hand gestures that nobody could 
mistake. Mombollo lost it and took a swing at her. That's when the 
riot started.

Sharon ducked his swing. She then jumped up, wrapped her arms around 
his neck, and administered a vicious head butt to his nose. 
Releasing her hold, she grabbed the man's huge ears as she dropped 
back to the canvas. He had two choices. Bend over or lose them. 
Mombollo bent over. Sharon used her ear hold to yank his face into 
her rising knee. While his head was at her level, she used the 
opportunity to work it like a speed bag.



"That's my girl," Bob said with obvious pride.

Jack frowned as a memory struck him. "She did that to me on my 
sixteenth birthday. I was probably a foot taller than her at the 
time also." 

"I'm sure it was a real Kodak moment."



Back in the ring, Mombollo's manager and a half dozen attendants 
swarmed through the ropes. They should have hauled him out of there. 
Instead, they made the mistake of trying to haul Sharon off of him. 
The first man to grab Sharon by the arm lost his front teeth. 
Another attendant wrapped her up from behind, and the other four 
formed a circle around her. That lasted about three seconds before 
Erika issued a gleeful war cry and joined the fray. Getting a 
running start, she hit the small group with a cross body block that 
sent everyone tumbling to the canvas. 

Erika rolled right to her feet and went after Mombollo. Running over 
the bodies of the fallen men, Sharon included, she caught Mombollo 
in the chest with her shoulder as he was getting up. The giant was 
driven into a corner by her momentum. He tried to hit her, but Erika 
was pressed right up against him. She started to rip into his body 
with her fists. Mombollo cursed her. Ignoring her blows, he crouched 
down and wrapped his long arms around her. Squeezing her in a 
bear hug, he lifted the woman off the canvas. Erika's feet dangled 
two feet off the floor as the giant tried to crush the life out of 
her. Erika's fists were trapped against his chest. The giant smiled 
a gap toothed grin at her as he released the pressure for a second 
to get a better hold. He then jerked his arms tight against her 
spine. Turning her hands so that her palms were flat against his 
chest, Erika started pushing for her life. Her triceps bulged and 
quivered. Erika cried out with effort. Mombollo's grin faded as a 
gap started forming between them. Sweat rolled down Erika's chest as 
she widened the gap further. Mombollo redoubled his efforts and 
managed to halt her progress. They stood there locked for a moment, 
then Erika started to feel his grip slipping. The gap started 
widening again. The girl grinned wolfishly as she felt the leverage 
advantage slip over to her. With one last effort, Erika managed to 
extend her arms fully. Incredibly, Mombollo still had his arms 
wrapped behind her back. Positioning her left hand in the middle of 
his chest, she drew back her other arm and sent a straight right 
slamming into his mouth. She punched the man a dozen times as he 
stubbornly held on. By the time Mombollo let go, it was too late. 
With her feet back on the floor, Erika bounced a few uppercuts off 
the chin of the swaying giant. Finally, the giant couldn't take 
anymore. As the man pitched forward, Erika crouched and let him 
fold over her shoulder. Straightened up with a grunt, she lifting 
the man's feet off the floor. Taking tiny steps, she positioned 
herself so that she could dump Mombollo over the top rope. The man 
crashed onto the timekeepers table, squashing it flat. Erika turned 
and saw that Sharon was finishing off her last opponent with a kick 
to the face as he tried to get up off the canvas. At some point 
during her struggle, her shirt had been half ripped off.

Sharon and Erika met in the center of the ring and clasped hands. 
Sharon threw one of her big arms around Erika and gave her a hug. 
Releasing her, Sharon lifted Erika's arm in victory. The crowd 
gave them a standing ovation. Noticing her shirt for the first time, 
Sharon ripped it off with her free arm and cast it aside. The two 
half naked amazons stood dominating the center of the ring amongst 
the bodies of their defeated foes.



Back at home, Bob and Jack exchanged a big high five.

"Yeah! Who says there's nothing good on television anymore," Jack 
said.

"It looks like the world got to see what happens when you mix equal 
parts of Sharon and Erika. It's an explosive combination."

"I'm beginning to see the advantages of being married to a boxer. 
They train to keep their bodies in tip top condition, go out and 
kick some ass, bring home the bacon, and then they expect you to 
service them until dawn."

"Yep, I've never regretted Sharon choosing me. It just doesn't get 
any better than this," Bob said as he sat back on the couch and 
popped a beer.

"Wait a minute. Sharon chose you? Didn't you ask her to marry you?"

"Technically, yes. But she used her body to force me into it."

"You know what? When I asked Erika, I got the impression that it was 
her idea. That I had been roped like a wild stallion."

"Welcome to the club Jack."



The two men picked up their women at the airport the next day. Jack 
swept Erika off her feet and gave her a long kiss.

"Will you look at those two kids," Jack said. "I quit trying to 
sweep you off your feet the first time I hurt my back."

Bob grunted from an elbow to the ribs.

"You're such a romantic. It's no wonder I married you. So how do you 
think we did?"

"We might be banned from the circuit forever, but that was the most 
exciting show I've seen in a long time," Bob said.

"They won't ban us. They still expect me to fight Mombollo," Sharon 
replied.

"I'm sorry about that," Erika said sheepishly.

"Don't loose any sleep over it. Boxing isn't one hundred percent 
skill. There's a certain amount of luck involved. Your luck just ran 
out. And even though it didn't count, you showed the world who's the 
better fighter in the end."

"Ja. But I'm still a lot luckier zan him. I don't have to fight you."

"Hey Bob, I brought you back something from Vegas," Sharon said as 
they were walking to the car.

She tossed him a large gold earring. There was some dried blood on it.

"I give up, who's is it?"

"It belonged to Mombollo. I thought you might like it."

Bob frowned. "I didn't see him wearing this in the ring."

"He wasn't. Me and Erika ran into those clowns outside a casino last 
night. I understand that somebody is selling the security tape of our 
little encounter for a thousand bucks a copy. Make sure we get our 
cut."

"Yes dear."



Sharon gave Erika a few days off, and Jack took her out to 
celebrate. Back at home, Sharon was worried about Erika's career. 
She couldn't have imagined a worse start for her. If it had been 
anybody but her and Bob, they probably would have their legs broken 
for Erika's behavior. Bob hung up the phone after talking to the 
Board promoter.

Sharon said, "Let me guess. Erika's banned for life. And we're going 
to have to work hard to get back into their good graces."

"Close. Actually, they'd like Erika back as soon as possible. It's 
you they were thinking of banning."

"Me! Those ungrateful bastards. What the fuck did I do?"

"The way they see it, your the one most responsible for starting 
that ring riot."

"Mombollo took the first swing."

"Yes, but you took the next fifty. And there's the matter of that 
fight outside the casino. You know the Board frowns on that type 
of activity outside the ring. You're lucky they managed to make some 
money off of it. It's funny, I would have guessed that Erika started 
the whole thing. But do you know what that tape shows? It shows you 
throwing the first punch."

"A minor detail," Sharon replied with a wave of her hand.

"They don't think so. Fortunately, Erika's display of restraint 
earned her a second chance."

"Restraint? That word isn't in Erika's vocabulary. She was so 
blitzed, she could barely stand."

"But they don't know that. Anyway, they want to put her on the card 
when you fight Mombollo. They'll give her a shot at the number three 
contender. But there's a catch. That thing she did in front of Tex, 
they'd like her to do it for the cameras before the fight starts."

"Bullshit," Sharon sputtered. "I can't let her destroy all the 
inroads I've made for women into the sport."

"The way I look at it, she's already done it. And she's probably 
going to do it again - for free. Remember, you're fighting for free. 
If Erika doesn't do it, they'll only pay her half."

"Half of what?"

Bob muttered a figure.

"What? I couldn't hear you."

Bob said it a little more clearly.

"Jesus Christ! Do you know how many times I had to fight for them 
before they offered me that kind of money? That little hussy flaunts 
herself once and earns that kind of payday. You're right, if I told 
her not to, she'd do it for sure. We might as well take the money."

"I'll schedule the match for next month. Erika's in shape. But I 
think you could use the extra time to train."

"Excuse me? You're my trainer. I'll be expecting to see you up tomorrow 
morning at five thirty. You can try to run me into the ground. After 
that we can lift weights, box, and play some basketball. And of 
course, I expect you to do all of that after you satisfy me tonight."

Bob sighed, "I had better start stretching."



In a warehouse on the East Side of Los Angeles, a woman worked out 
alone. It was a bad neighborhood for a woman alone, but that never 
occurred to Lori. No man ever bothered her twice. She was benching 
something more than the current women's world record. Racking the 
bar, she sat up and flexed her chest. She was pleased to see the 
thick cords of muscle leap to attention. The burning pain under her 
tits told her that she had done enough for the night. Reaching into 
a leather bag beside the bench, she took out a hypodermic syringe 
full of anabolic steroids and plunged it into the center of each of 
her pectoral muscles. She used another two syringes for each of her 
triceps. She swore she could see her muscles growing before her very 
eyes. On an intellectual level, Lori knew that she was killing 
herself. But Lori rarely functioned at that level anymore. She 
rarely thought about anything except Sharon. She had earned a 
significant amount of money in cage fights. But that was only the 
means to an end. And that end was Sharon.

She heard one of the large metal garage doors opening and smiled. 
Her date for the evening had arrived. She hadn't had many matches 
lately. Not many men were willing to fight her anymore. So her 
manager would round up a likely looking candidate off the street and 
lock him in with her. She put on a leather mask. There were cameras 
positioned throughout the building that would record the action. Her 
manager was quite enthusiastic about it. He told her that she had 
carved out a whole new market niche. Lori didn't care about any of 
that. She was just keeping her skills sharp. She hoped her opponent 
tonight would provide her with some amusement.

The man would have been told what to expect before he was untied and 
shoved under the door. She heard the man coming towards her. Good, 
she didn't like to chase them. The man emerged from between two 
large stacks of boxes into her workout area. Lori liked what she 
saw. He was young Hispanic male, over six feet tall, heavily 
muscled. He was wearing the colors of a local gang. Lori wasn't 
worried about that. He would have been searched for weapons. She was 
tough, but not tough enough to stop a bullet - yet, she thought.

The man must not have liked what he saw though, because he turned 
and ran. And who could blame him? He had found himself face to face 
with a massively pumped, one hundred and ninety pound woman dressed 
in a black studded leather outfit wearing a black mask whom he had 
been told was going to try to kill him. Shit, Lori thought, I was 
hoping for a man with some balls. Sometimes she would use them 
before the end. But they had to earn the privilege.

She heard him trying to scramble up a stack of pallets to reach one 
of the high set windows. He should be discovering the bars about now 
she thought. She heard him jump back to the floor and scuttle off. 
The gang banger must have found himself a good hiding place she 
thought, because she couldn't hear him anymore. After searching for 
a few minutes, she walked around a tall shelf filled with smaller 
bins and found herself face to face with the man. He swung a mop 
handle at her head. Only her boxing trained reflexes allowed her to 
duck the swing. He tried again, but this time she was ready for him. 
The mop handle broke harmlessly across the muscles and tendons of 
her raised forearm. The man tossed his useless weapon to one side 
and raised his fists.

"I don't need no weapon for no chiquitta. Come on bitch. Lets 
rumble." 

Lori smiled behind the mask at the display of Latin machismo. He 
sure as hell thought he needed that mop handle when it was more than 
two feet long. Still, this was turning out to be much more 
interesting that Lori had hoped for. She raised her fists and 
prepared to engage the man.

Lori let the man hit her first. She knew that she wasn't going to 
beat Sharon without taking a few punches. The man drove his fist 
over top of her low guard into the center of her mask. Lori was 
driven back by the hammering. She was slightly disappointed. The man 
didn't hit nearly as hard as Sharon.

"Come on bitch, what's the matter, can't you box?"

The man seemed to be getting into the spirit of the contest as he 
beat on her face. When Lori tasted blood in her mouth, she decided 
that she had taken enough. Adding thirty pounds of muscle had slowed 
her, but she was still faster than this clown. Letting him hit her 
again, she stepped in and snapped two quick jabs into the man's 
face. The man hit her with a right as hard as he could. Lori 
delivered a left-right-left combination to his face. The gangster 
snapped her head to one side with a roundhouse right. Lori responded 
with two rights, a left, and a right to the man's stomach. The man 
wasn't completely stupid. He could see where this was going, and he 
didn't like it. He turned tail and ran. Lori's laughter echoed 
throughout the warehouse.

Lori heard a shoe scrape off to her left. A few weeks ago, her 
manager had thrown in a college boy with her. He had turned out to 
be a chicken shit little weasel, but he had been smart enough to 
take off his shoes. Lori had spent four hours just trying to corner 
him. She then spent ten minutes ripping him limb from limb. She 
didn't remember much of what she done to him, but her manager said 
that it was her best selling tape. Lori heard a noise above her and 
looked up just in time to see the man throw a brick at her head. She 
tried to dodge, but the brick still hit her hard enough to stagger 
her. The man jumped off his perch onto her back. Lori was knocked to 
the ground under him.

The man didn't waste any time. He grabbed the back of her head and 
started slamming her face into the concrete floor. He didn't do it 
more than three times before he felt himself being lifted off the 
ground as she started to get up. Desperately, he snatched up the 
brick and prepared to bring it down on the back of her skull. But 
before he could strike her, she flipped over sending him rolling off 
to the side. Lori scrambled on top of him and plucked the brick out 
of his hand.

"That wasn't very nice," Lori said as she smashed the brick on the 
floor next to his ear splitting it into three pieces.

"Real men don't need bricks," she said as she tossed the pieces aside.

Lori was hot and sweaty, straddling a young man who had given her an 
interesting night. She was in the mood.

"I'll tell you what stud, you make me come, and I might just let you 
leave."

Lori reached behind her and started stroking the man's crotch. The 
man looked scared. Lori frowned, there was nothing happening. She 
reached behind her with her free hand and undid her leather top. Her 
breasts nearly exploded in the man's face. His eyes bugged and she 
felt his crotch get warm and wet.

"You mother fucking son of a bitch!" she screamed. Slapping the man 
across the face she yelled, "You've got ten seconds to get it up!"

Needless to say, the man didn't make it. It's too bad really, Lori 
would never have let him go, but she wouldn't have pounded his ribs 
to splinters either. Lori got on the phone after she was done. She 
was in foul mood. Her mood didn't improve when her manager informed 
her that his men had missed Sharon in Vegas.

"No more excuses. You bring me Sharon, and you bring her to me now!"

The cheap phone cracked as she slammed down the receiver. Sharon's 
luck couldn't last forever.




         THE PRIZEFIGHT XVII: Sharon Vs. Mombollo
         ----------------------------------------

"I still can't believe her? She should be waking up with her 
rottweiler's head in her bed after the way she behaved in front of 
the Board. And then she embarrasses me further by losing to Mombollo. 
But who do they roll out the red carpet for? Erika. Who's the 
Board's fastest rising star? Erika. Who has to fight Mombollo for 
free? Me. Who did they threaten to ban? Me."

Sharon was talking to her husband Bob about her recent trip to Las 
Vegas where she debuted Erika on the fighting circuit.

"That's all true dear, but my question was, what happened to the 
money?"

"Erika wanted to gamble."

"You let her gamble all our money away?."

"Well, not exactly. I only gave her a couple of grand to play with. 
She earned it."

"Then we still have the money?"

"Well, no."

"Let me guess. Erika blew all the money. They extended her credit. 
And you had to use our money to buy her out of a hole."

"No, let me explain. Erika wanted to play poker just like she saw in 
Maverick. So she bought her way into a private game. We get to the 
room and there were a bunch of fat cigar smoking Texans sitting 
around a table leering at us."

"OK, I think I know where this is going now. They pinched Erika on 
the behind and you lost the money in the ensuing riot."

"No, they were actually pretty polite for Texans. They loved Erika. 
There was nearly a riot over who got to sit next to her. Let me tell 
you, if that girl ever wants to give up boxing, she could make more 
as a mistress. One of these clowns offered her a whole building in 
downtown Houston if he could see her once a month. The most I was 
ever offered was a house."

"Don't feel too bad, real estate prices are depressed down there 
right now. But back to the money."

"Sorry. Erika was having so much fun, I decided to play a few hands 
myself."

"Oh shit. They cleaned you out. It was probably a rigged game. They 
were just waiting for a pair of overstuffed pigeons like you two."

"Will you please let me finish. The Texans didn't get the money. 
They were cleaned out also."

"Well if you don't have the money, and they don't have the money, 
who has it?"

Sharon mumbled something.

"What was that Sharon?"

"Damn it! Erika has the money. Is that what you wanted to know? Erika 
cleaned us all out. She got a little ahead on me. You know how 
competitive I get when I'm playing with Erika."

"So Erika has all the fight money? That was a small fortune."

"Not only does she have the fight money, but if you check our bank 
account, you might find that down a little bit."

"She owes us money. Just get her to give it back."

"We had that discussion on the plane. Do you remember that she was 
supposed to pay us back with fight money? Well she does. And 
technically, that isn't fight money now. Hey! I just thought of 
something. Why don't I fight her for it on the front lawn? Double or 
nothing."

"You could try that. But are you really feeling that lucky? Let her 
enjoy the money. Maybe she'll surprise us and invest some of it for 
the future."

"And maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt. Here comes our little 
princess now. Driving up in a brand new Ferrari."

"Exotic cars can be a good investment..."

Bob and Sharon watched as Erika took out a cement bird bath next to 
the driveway.

"...but only if you take really good care of them."
 
Erika drifted through the front door wearing a red bikini top and 
a pair of high cut denim shorts.

"You didn't go out with Jack like that, did you?" Sharon asked.

"Of course not. I vwent car shopping."

"Sharon was just telling me how you won the money."

Erika leaned over to Bob and whispered, "She flexes her arms vwhen 
she has a bad hand."

"I heard that," Sharon said.

"And I've heard enough," Bob said. "I'm definitely coming to Vegas 
with you for the fight next month. If only to be sure we have a 
house to come back to."



Sharon and Erika trained hard that month. Bob thought that Erika was 
the best thing to come into Sharon's life since him. From the time 
they had met in Germany, they had bonded like sisters. Bob was also 
of the opinion that she was good for Sharon professionally. Though 
by no means over the hill, Sharon had matured as a fighter years 
ago. Erika's youth, vitality, and rapid advancement challenged 
Sharon and was forcing her to a new level. Bob was looking forward 
to seeing how she would deal with Mombollo. Since he had managed to 
beat Erika, Sharon would probably be planning something special for 
him just to show the young girl who was on top. Bob wasn't too 
worried about Erika despite her less than stellar start. The girl 
always managed to land on her feet.



Fight night arrived. Since Erika was up first, Bob helped prepare 
her by taping her fists, applying Vaseline to her face, and spraying 
decongestant up her nostrils. Sharon was glad to have Bob working 
with them. He had been fighting on the circuit when she was in high 
school. Erika was called, and all three of them exited the dressing 
room and entered the arena. The predominantly male crowd cheered 
wildly as the blonde and brunette team made their appearance. The 
ring announcer started the proceedings.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Board is proud to bring you a very special 
card featuring our favorite female fighters, Erika and Sharon!"

Sharon frowned. When the hell did Erika start to get top billing?

"Our first fight tonight features a rising young circuit star, at 
six feet, two hundred pounds, with a record of thirty five and two, 
Erika!"

The crowd went nuts as Erika entered the ring and did a slow 
striptease with her robe. Sharon winced as the girl showed off for 
the cameras. The Board had made this little sex show a prerequisite 
for Erika's fight. Sharon didn't like it, but as Bob said, the girl 
would probably have done it for free. The announcer continued after 
Erika was finished and the crowd calmed down.

"Her opponent tonight is the number three contender for the circuit 
championship, at six feet, one hundred and ninety five pounds with a 
record of twenty five and six, Larry Hill!"

Larry Hill was an unusual fighter. He was small for a contender. In 
fact, he was slightly lighter than Erika. The secret to his success 
was his speed. He was supposed to be the quickest fighter on the 
circuit. Erika was looking forward to seeing if that was true. She 
was about to get her chance when the bell rang.

The two combatants met in the center of the ring. Hill struck first 
with a hard left jab that hit Erika on the mouth. Circling her, he 
popped her with another two in the same place. Erika launched a jab 
of her own, but the man bobbed and countered with a left-right that 
had the German girl shaking her head. Larry Hill was starting to 
smile now. The bitch was quick, but he was quicker. Moving in again, 
he snapped her head back with a hard right. It was the first time he 
had ever fought a woman and he wasn't impressed. He had always 
thought that Sharon had been overrated. Maybe he could get a fight 
with... Crack!

Larry hadn't heard the sound. He didn't even know where he was for a 
minute. The first thing he noticed was the canvas. He was on all 
fours staring at it. The next thing he noticed was the blood. A few 
drops where staining the white surface. He heard the count reach 
five as another drop of blood spattered from his split lip. He got 
to his knees to see Erika in front of him. His memory came together 
in a rush. The bitch had put him down. He never saw it coming. She 
taunted him in her thick German accent.

"If zat is zee best you can do, zan you had better stay down there."

Even if he was inclined to take her advice, it was against circuit 
policy for a fighter to deliberately stay down for the count. And 
violations of circuit policy had been the death of more than one 
fighter. But he wasn't inclined to stay down. The bitch just got in 
a lucky shot. Erika let him get fully to his feet before she 
confronted him again. He hit her with a jab. She responded in kind. 
Another jab caught her on the cheek, and almost instantly she 
countered him with a left of her own. His third punch landed almost 
simultaneously with hers. Erika didn't wait for a fourth punch. She 
started initiating the action. Hill was barely able to respond 
before Erika hit him twice more. The bell rang to end the first 
round.

Back in Erika's corner, Bob analyzed the situation succinctly by 
saying, "He's screwed."

And he was. Pound for pound, women are stronger than men. And Erika 
weighed more than Hill. She was bigger, stronger, and now everyone 
knew she was faster. During the break, hundreds of new wagers were 
being made between people in the small crowd. They weren't betting 
on who, they where betting on how and when.

Round two proved that the man was tough and could take some 
punishment. He managed to land a number of blows on Erika, but not 
nearly his share. 

As they watched the fight grow more one sided, Sharon asked Bob, "Is 
it my imagination, or have these fighters become a bunch of wimps? I 
went through five rounds of hell taking Jerry Grant for the number 
three spot. I couldn't work out for three weeks after that fight. 
Erika could have put this guy away in round one if she wanted to."

"It's not your imagination. It's your fault. You forced a lot of 
talent out of the circuit when you took the championship. A lot of 
men just couldn't handle the idea of being ranked behind a woman. 
This is the best of what's left. It wouldn't surprise me if we could 
get Erika a title shot with another two or three fights. And that's 
all thanks to you."

Erika went out for round three with her right hand held behind her 
back. Hill did a little better against the one armed Erika, but not 
much. The crowd appreciated her showboating, but Sharon didn't.

"One day, she's going to pull that shit with the wrong opponent. And 
she isn't going to be able to say I didn't tell her about it."

Erika was finishing her opponent off. Lunging like a fencer, she 
drove Hill back with a series of straight lefts. When the man hit 
the ropes and rebounded, she slid to one knee and impaled the man in 
the gut. As he doubled over, she brought out her right hand for the 
first time in the round. Timing an uppercut perfectly, she hit him 
in the face hard enough to send his mouthpiece flying and flip him 
out of the ring between the second and third ropes.

Sharon would have liked to have lectured the girl, but she had to 
get ready for her own fight. Besides, she did admire her display of 
skill. She was going to face the African champion Mombollo. They had 
more than a little history together. After Erika lost to him on 
their last trip, Sharon had beat his ass twice. Once in a ring riot 
after the fight, and then later that night outside a casino. There 
was no doubt he was out for blood. And at almost seven feet tall and 
over three hundred pounds, Sharon took the threat seriously.

Since she was still relatively fresh after her fight, Erika decided 
to stay in Sharon's corner and lend moral support. Sharon 
appreciated that, and was also glad to have Erika around in case 
a bit of fist support was needed. Of course that cut both ways. 
Erika was great backup in case of another rumble, but odds were she 
would also be the cause of it.

The African giant stepped over the top rope. Mombollo was extremely 
tall and fairly muscular. They had learned in the last fight that he 
liked to use his elbows to strike an opponent. His huge reach 
also gave him a significant advantage over Sharon . She was well 
aware of his strengths. Unfortunately, Erika hadn't lasted long 
enough to discover any weaknesses. Secretly, Sharon was excited at 
the prospect of facing the giant. It had been a long time since she 
had needed to think a problem out in the ring.

"Any advice?" Sharon asked her corner team.

"Get inside, zen hit first, hit fast, und keep hitting until he 
drops," was Erika's suggestion.

"I really have no idea what you should be doing with this guy. But 
remember, you're fighting for free. Fuck 'em and finish him off 
quick," Bob said.

"Gee, thanks for the advice. Maybe I should tell him his shoelace is 
untied?"

Bob and Erika looked at her for a moment.

"Ja, zat might vwork."

"Great idea, go for it babe."

Sharon was almost relieved to get away from her advisors when the 
bell sounded. She reached the outside of Mombollo's range quickly 
and started to circle as he jabbed at her. Sharon would have liked 
to have traded a few punches with him, but she was still a foot too 
far away. Fuck it, her own idea wasn't that bad. Mombollo didn't 
speak any English, so Sharon stopped for a second, dropped her eyes 
to his feet and pointed. Mombollo glanced down and then back up at 
Sharon. Sharon pointed a little more frantically. Mombollo tilted 
his head down. Before he could react, Sharon closed the gap and 
clipped him on the jaw. Before she could dart back out of range 
again, the giant caught her with a sweeping roundhouse to her 
shoulder. Sharon was nearly knocked over by the blow. She virtually 
had to dive under his arm to avoid a second punch. She was beginning 
to appreciate why Erika had lost. She spent the rest of the round in 
a frustrating attempt to find an opening which never materialized.

Round two started out the same way as round one. Erika's downfall 
had been her unfamiliarity with the six sided ring the circuit used. 
Sharon was glad for it now. If they had been fighting in a 
conventional square, Mombollo would probably have trapped her in a 
corner by now. As it was, he wasn't doing much better than her. 
Her skill and mobility were frustrating his efforts to hit her. 
Mombollo lunged in with another jab. Sharon moved her head to avoid 
it, and then tried to dance back out of range. But something was 
seriously wrong. Her front foot wasn't moving. Looking down, she saw 
her size nine boxing boot trapped under Mombollo's size twenty. She 
didn't need to look up to see what was coming next, so she started 
to duck. Mombollo's fist connected with the side of her head right 
above her ear. Sharon's head bounced off her shoulder and she was 
seeing stars. Mombollo swung his next punch upwards from his side. 
Sharon was out on her feet, swaying in front of him with her hands 
held high instinctively guarding her face. Mombollo's punch drove 
her own fists into her face before connecting like a wrecking ball. 
Sharon's foot popped loose as she was lifted off the canvas by the 
force of the blow. She arced through the air and landed on her back 
eight feet from her original possession. Sharon's eyes rolled back in 
her head and she started twitching like an epileptic.

Bob was scared. He felt Erika clutching his arm. He had never seen 
anyone hit so hard by another human being. His first instinct was to 
run to her side, but that was out of the question. Sharon quit 
twitching after a few seconds and lay there as if she was dead. Only 
the slow rise and fall of her chest assured Bob that she wasn't. The 
crowd was absolutely silent as the count progressed past ten. At 
twelve, Sharon started to stir. By fifteen, she was rolling over. 
Bob was actually hoping that she would stay down. But he knew that 
Sharon would never stay down unless it wasn't humanly possible to 
get up. At the count of nineteen she lurched unsteadily to her feet. 
Mombollo started to close on her just as the bell rang. 

Bob and Erika leapt through the ropes and inserted themselves 
between Sharon and the giant. There were a few tense seconds as the 
parties stared at each other. Finally, Mombollo returned to his 
corner. Bob grabbed Sharon from under the armpits and dragged her 
back to her corner as Erika set her stool down. They had about fifty 
seconds to prepare Sharon to defend herself. She might not be able 
to win, but Bob had to be sure that she could keep from being 
killed. Bob broke open a cartridge of smelling salts under her nose. 
Sharon lurched and shook her head as he held it there. Steadying her 
head, he studied her pupils and looked for damage. Except for a cut 
over her eye which was probably caused by her own fist, she was 
unmarked. But it was damage to her neck that Bob was worried about. 
Being a woman in a man's sport, Sharon had trained particularly hard 
to strengthen those areas where she was weaker than men. These 
included her hands, wrists, and neck. Bob was glad she had stuck 
with that training as he felt around the thick muscles that would 
make a bull proud. With twenty seconds left, Sharon seemed to regain 
her faculties.

"Will I live?"

"That's up to you. I know better than to even suggest that you take 
a dive. Just be careful out there."

"Any more good advice?"

Bob and Erika weren't joking now as they desperately searched for an 
answer to Sharon's predicament. With five seconds left, something 
occurred to Bob.

"His wrists!" Bob cried excitedly.

"What?" Sharon said.

"Hit him in his fucking wrists. His arms move fast, but you can see 
his punches coming from across the ring. His wrists are as big as 
logs. You should be able to catch them before he can withdraw his 
arm."

Sharon immediately saw the possibilities. As the bell rang, she was 
still a little bit shaky, but filled with new hope. Mombollo almost 
bolted from his corner to finish her off. Getting into range, he 
threw a roundhouse at her head. Sharon withdrew half a step and met 
his punch with a right roundhouse of her own. Sharon was nearly 
spun around as her fist landed with a meaty thump on the inside of 
his upper forearm. She heard Mombollo yelp as she quickly moved to a 
safe position. For the first time in the match, she was smiling. 
Yeah pal, I'll bet that hurt.

Mombollo pursued Sharon firing his long jab. Sharon showed him that 
she hadn't gotten lucky the first time as she nailed his wrist nine 
out of ten times. After putting up with Sharon's antics for a 
minute, it was Mombollo's turn to back off. He glared knives at her 
as he stood there flexing his hands. 

Sharon made a gesture inviting Mombollo to rejoin the fight. It was 
just too much for the man to stand. He bellowed like a bull and 
charged her. Bad move, she thought, as she ducked a wild punch and 
entered inside of his guard. She had been wanting inside, and now 
the man was rolling out the red carpet for her. Mombollo quickly 
found out what former heavyweight champ Matt Dyson had learned. That 
if you thought Sharon was a bitch from the outside, then you never 
traded body shots with her. Sharon got within a foot of the man, 
planted her feet, and got off half a dozen punches as her hands 
blurred. Mombollo's limbs were too long for him to effectively hit 
an opponent at this range. That's probably why he learned to strike 
with his elbows. He used one to try to take her head off. Sharon had 
learned from Erika's experience. She ducked low and circled to his 
side where she resumed her attack on his huge torso. Sharon knew she 
was hurting the giant as her fists sank over an inch into his rubbery 
muscles. Mombollo cursed and twirled with his arms held wide. Sharon 
waited until he was facing her again and popped him in the eye with 
a right hook. She looked for the man's response, and was genuinely 
surprised when he grabbed her around the waist and picked her up 
like a doll. The man's hands almost encircled her. Sharon's feet 
flailed three feet off the floor as she struggled to get free. The 
bell sounded just as Mombollo threw his tormentress over the top 
rope. The crowed was booing loudly at this clear violation of the 
circuit's rules.

Bob and Erika rushed over to find Sharon getting up without help. 
This did occasionally happen to fighters, and an area around the 
ring was padded to prevent undue damage to the Board's most 
important assets. Even so, Sharon's safe landing from ten feet up in 
the air was miraculous. Sharon wasn't taking time to thank her 
lucky stars though, she was trying to climb back into the ring. 

"That mother fucker! I'm going to rip him a new asshole! Fuck the 
break! Get back over here and try that again! Hey, what the fuck do 
you two think you're doing! Let go of me!"

Bob and Erika thought that they were going to be carrying Sharon off 
in a stretcher. Instead they found themselves hanging onto her arms 
as she tried to get back in the fight. Bob had never seen Sharon 
lose it like this in the ring before. He had seen her seriously 
pissed, but this time she was totally out of control. He tried to 
calm her down, but his wife wasn't hearing a word he said. Glancing 
over, Bob could see fear on Mombollo's face as the time left in the 
break expired. I don't blame him a bit, Bob thought, as Sharon 
continued to swear like a sailor and hiss like a wildcat.

"Let her go!" Bob yelled as the bell sounded.

They let Sharon go like a freshly tagged lioness on Wild Kingdom.
Sharon was on the apron and back into the ring in two bounding 
leaps. She literally ran across the ring to where Mombollo was 
waiting in his corner. The man tried stopping her with a jab as she 
rushed in. Bob was half expecting her to flay the man with her claws 
the way she was behaving. But instead, she executed one of the most 
beautiful moves that Bob had ever seen in the ring. Sharon didn't 
even flinch at Mombollo's defensive jab. Without slowing down, she 
spun past his arm and continued rotating a full one hundred and 
eighty degrees. She finished the half circle slamming back first 
into his stomach as she hit him with a backfist to his nose. 
Mombollo was thrown back into his corner by her momentum. As their 
bodies were pressed together, Sharon started to piston her elbows 
behind her into the man's sides. Mombollo grabbed the ropes and 
thrust himself out of the corner. As strong as Sharon was, she 
couldn't hope to hold the man back. Letting him launch her off of 
him, she spun again and caught the man with both a left backfist and 
a roundhouse right in the same motion. Unfortunately, Sharon had to 
lift her arms so high to hit his face that she lost much of her 
power. But his gut was at the perfect level to receive her full 
force of her fury. The crowd could hear the thuds throughout the 
arena as Sharon played Mombollo like a log drum.

Desperate to stop her, Mombollo shoved her backwards with both 
hands. Sharon went tumbling into the center of the ring. Mombollo 
didn't pursue as he panted in his corner overcoming the shock. 
Sharon seemed to have regained her senses as she got back up and 
closed on him like a sane person. Mombollo spent the rest of the 
round using his jabs to keep the wild woman away from him. Sharon 
returned to her tactic of hitting his wrists. By the time the bell 
sounded, ugly purple bruises could be seen lining the insides of his 
forearms. Returning to her corner, Sharon looked at her team.

"What the hell are you two staring at? Haven't you ever seen a lady 
fight before?"

Bob was brave enough to ask, "Excuse me my little buttercup, but 
what the hell happened to the woman I married?"

"I never told you this before, but I'm extremely afraid of heights and 
falling. When that asshole threw me out of the ring, I thought I was 
going to die. When I landed on the mat, I was so scared I just lost 
my mind."

"Make a note Erika, we don't ever get on a glass elevator with this 
woman."

Erika nodded in agreement. 

Mombollo was showing some signs of wear at the start of round four. 
He got off his stool slowly and shuffled out to meet Sharon. The big 
man raised his arms but was clearly having trouble clenching his 
fists. But Sharon still respected her opponent. The man still had 
his elbows. And he hadn't gotten any smaller during the one minute 
break. But he was running out of steam. He had knocked Erika out in 
the first round, and she suspected that most of his fights hadn't 
lasted much longer.

Sharon started playing with the man again as she tried to formulate 
a strategy to finish him off. He was too tall to hit in the face 
without bringing herself into the range of his elbows. And she 
suspected that even one of her perfectly placed punches couldn't 
bring him down. Sharon knew that her best course of action would be 
to get him to bend over to her level so she could bring her full 
force to bear on the problem. Now how to get him bent over? Ask 
nicely? Sharon didn't speak his language. Try the shoe lace thing 
again? No, he's not quite that stupid. Beat his guts to quivering 
jelly until he can't stand erect? Ah, a workable solution to the 
problem.

With Sharon, thought was action. She darted in and started to unload 
on the man's abs. As he tried to swat her, she moved around him. She 
couldn't resist giving him a hard elbow to the kidney as she passed 
by. Sharon was pleased with the grunt of pain that the technique 
elicited. She vowed to practice it. Staying behind the giant was a 
lot easier now than it had been earlier. Sharon went to work on his 
lower back. Within thirty seconds, she had the man squealing. 
Mombollo finally figured out that if he backed into the ropes, she 
couldn't stay behind him. Sharon easily avoided being trapped as he 
moved into a corner. Crouching very low, she attacked his belly 
button. Mombollo's height was now working against him as he tried to 
connect with the woman who was causing him so much pain. As Sharon 
moved in to attack again, he tried his earlier tactic of stepping on 
her foot. She had been hoping that he would try that again, and she 
wasn't disappointed. At the last instant, she slipped her foot out 
from under his. With a hard stomp, she brought her heel down 
directly in the center of his foot. She heard bones crack as the man 
howled in pain. Taking advantage of his distraction, she moved back 
to within a foot of his body. Picking a spot just to the left of his 
abdominal muscles, she started to pound it with her hardest punches. 
No man can stand before Sharon's body shots for very long, and 
Mombollo was no exception as Sharon felt her fist penetrate the thin 
layer of muscle and tear up his insides. Sharon had to sidestep to 
avoid being knocked down again as the man doubled over.

Quickly assessing the situation, Sharon decided to finish the man 
with a hammer blow to the back of his neck. Placing her left hand on 
his shoulder, she brought her right fist smashing down. He quivered 
a bit from the blow. Sharon tried again. This time he didn't even 
respond. Jumping up, she concentrated the full strength of her body 
into her fist. The blow landed with an ugly cracking sound. The 
man's head bobbed from the impact and then he tipped over onto the 
canvas. Sharon shook her head as she waited out the count. Mombollo 
was taking up a huge amount of canvas. Sharon had fought a lot of 
ring mutants in her time, but this guy took the cake.

The crowd went wild as the count reached twenty. Erika was a 
rising star, but she was not yet a substitute for the real thing in 
the hearts of the circuit patrons. Sharon raised her arms in victory 
as four attendants worked to drag Mombollo out of the ring.

Bob was relieved. Sharon had done a hell of a job, and she didn't 
even look too bad. She was complaining a bit about pain in her neck, 
but x-rays from the arena's own emergency room didn't show anything. 
The resident doctor thought there might be some soft tissue injury 
and he suggested that Sharon wear a brace for the next couple of 
days. Bob wanted to get a brace and take her back to their room 
immediately, but Sharon and Erika wouldn't have it. Both the women 
had won major victories and now they wanted to celebrate. Bob knew 
better than to even try to argue with them while they were united.

After the women got cleaned up and dressed to kill, they headed for 
the bright lights of downtown Vegas. The two women hit the casinos 
and the dance floors. Bob sighed with relief when they finally 
agreed to call it a night. He was also amazed. The blonde and 
brunette team had been drinking and hadn't even come close to 
getting into trouble. And they couldn't possibly get into any 
trouble on the way back to their hotel at two in the morning, could 
they? Bob felt that sinking feeling as he tuned into the 
conversation between the two slightly tipsy amazons. Sharon was 
giving Erika her opinion of the little striptease she had done for 
the crowd.

"All I'm saying is that you're a professional athlete and you 
shouldn't display your body like that."

"Jealous?" Erika asked.

"Of what? I had crowds of men lusting after me when you were still 
shoveling shit on the farm."

"Vwell, you are a little older now, und men appreciate a young hard 
body."

"You want to compare bodies? I've had men offer me a small fortune 
just to touch my tits. You'd be lucky to get a buck without having 
to make change."

Bob listened to them argue another minute. There were a number of 
directions this could go, and all of them involved him. He briefly 
considered jumping from the moving car. Too late, he thought as 
Sharon addressed him.

"Bob, tell her who has the better body."

"He is your husband. He is not allowed to tell zee truth." 

"Then how do you propose we settle this?"

"Vwe need some other men. Look over zere!"

"Stop the car Bob."

Bob didn't like the looks of this. Sharon and Erika where getting 
out of the car in front of a large strip club. A sign outside said 
"Amateur Contest Every Night". Sharon and Erika huddled for a minute 
behind the car. Opening the trunk, they grabbed their gym bags. 

"Bob, we're going in there. The woman to come back out with the most 
money wins. You get to count."

The pair of women were stopped just inside the door by a bouncer.

"There's a five dollar cover," he said.

"We're here for the contest," Sharon responded.

"The contest is over, go away."

"Let us speak to the manager."

The man shrugged and waved to the manager. A fat man smoking a cigar 
walked over.

"What's the problem?" the manager asked.

"Me and my friend Erika here want to have our own little amateur 
contest, and I think your customers might like it."


Erika was wearing a slinky black dress that showed most of what she 
had. Sharon was wearing a slightly more conservative green number 
that displayed her ample cleavage. Believe it or not, some men don't 
appreciate women like Sharon and Erika. Most of them have the 
manners not to mention it. The manager wasn't one of those men.

"I wouldn't let you two dikes dance here unless you paid me. Bruno, 
show them the way out."

"Lets not be to hasty here. We'd be willing to pay to dance," Sharon 
said. "Pay the man five Erika."

Erika smiled sweetly and decked Bruno. The manager yelled for help. 
Two more bouncers came running over. They didn't last more than 
three seconds. Sharon and Erika advanced on the manager and 
sandwiched the man between their rock hard bodies.

"You were saying something about paying to dance?"

"Uh, what I meant was, go ahead and dance. What's it going to hurt."

"What do you think Erika?"

"I zink zat he should ask us nicely if he wants us to dance."

Sharon threw her arm around the man's neck and flexed a bit.

"Uh, would you ladies please dance. I think the customers might like 
it."

"We'd be glad to," Sharon responded. "Point us to the dressing room 
and clear the stage. You're about to see something that a lot of men 
would pay thousands for."

Bob couldn't believe what was about to happen. He knew Erika would 
pull something like this even if she was sober, but his Sharon? She 
must have had a lot more to drink than he had thought. He couldn't 
believe his nice conservative wife was going to dance for dollars. 
After thinking about that for a minute, he realized that this was 
a once in a lifetime opportunity. Snatching his video camera out of 
the car, he sprinted for the club's entrance. Entering the dark 
interior, he came upon a small group of bruised men. The club's 
manager was saying something about calling the police. Bob briefly 
talked to the man and slipped a thousand dollars in his pocket. 
There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone interrupt this 
performance.

The small crowd of men was getting restless. The manager had chased 
his regulars off the stage to make room for the two amazons. After 
waiting a few minutes, the sounds of Paula Abdul's song "Knocked 
Out" came booming over the speakers. Sharon and Erika leapt onto the 
stage. The crowd broke into wild applause. The two women were 
wearing nothing but silk boxing shorts and practice gloves that they 
had brought with them.

Money immediately started showering the stage. Sharon did a little 
shadow boxing to the beat of the music, while Erika did a bump and 
grind. Glancing down at the stage, she could see that the younger 
girl was getting ahead of her. Erika was smiling as a another twenty 
landed at her feet. Time to bring out the big guns, Sharon thought. 
Putting her gloved hands behind her head she started flexing her 
pects. Together at first, then she alternated them. Her perfect 
c-cup breasts bounced around wildly. A deluge of money started 
landing on her side of the stage. Being ill equipped to respond in 
kind, Erika wasn't too happy. Bending over and sending her feet 
shooting into the air, she started doing some handstand pushups. The 
men hooted in appreciation and rewarded the display of athleticism. 
Shit, Sharon thought, I didn't know she could do that. Not to be 
outdone, Sharon went into a little cheer leading routine that she 
remembered from high school. Finishing with a couple of high kicks 
and a cartwheel, she was pleased to see the money flowing in her 
direction again.

Bob could tell that Sharon and Erika were really enjoying themselves 
on-stage. But they were doing a little too good a job of heating up 
the crowd. A couple of men jumped up on stage and inserted 
themselves into the act. Ordinarily, the bouncers would drag them 
back off the stage, but they weren't about to help the women who 
messed them up. Of course, the boxing bombshells didn't need any 
help. One of the men who tried to shove a bill a little too far down 
Erika's trunks found himself picked up off his feet and thrown into 
the crowd. Sharon wasn't nearly as nice when a guy made a grab for 
her tits and found himself flying off the stage with a broken jaw.

The situation started to deteriorate rapidly as Sharon and Erika 
found themselves doing more punching than dancing. What they didn't 
know was that half of the men at the club were in Vegas to 
participate in a national taekwondo tournament. A black belts who 
was harassing Sharon fought back as she tried to shove him off the 
edge. One of his teammates jumped up on stage to help him out. 
Stepping behind the brunette, he wrapped his arms around her back. 
There's no quicker way to get Erika into a fight than to threaten 
Sharon. Abandoning her side of the stage, she rushed over and 
slammed her fist into the back of the man's head. The fight quickly 
spread throughout the entire club as some of the martial artists 
went after the women while others lined up to defend them. 

Fortunately for the two boxers, the bodies of the combatants were 
too close together for them to actually use any of their fancy 
martial arts moves. As a result, the blonde and brunette fighting 
back to back started to fill a circle around them with the bodies of 
the men foolish enough to engage them. After two minutes of mayhem, 
Bob heard sirens closing in. Waving and yelling, he managed to get 
Sharon's attention from across the room. Sharon nudged Erika in the 
ribs and the two women started to clear a path for the door. Bob 
hustled them into the car and peeled out just seconds before the 
first police car arrived. 

Sharon asked, "Hey Bob, who won."

"Ja Bob, who vwon," Erika chimed in.

Looking over his shoulder at the two sweating half naked muscular 
women in the back seat, he replied, "You both won. The team of 
Sharon and Erika cleaned house. And I don't ever want to have to 
tell you that again."

Sharon and Erika looked at Bob and then at each other. Sharon 
extended a gloved hand and Erika took it. The two women shook hands 
and hugged. 

Sharon said to Erika, "It's amazing how wise men can be sometimes."

Ja," Erika said, "zat is a second reason to have them around."



Lori had paid to see Sharon's fight on the Board's private satellite 
channel. She had been impressed by her enemy's courage and skill. In 
fact, it left a question open that she had to answer. Calling her 
manager, she arranged a flight for Vegas the next day.



A day after they had gotten home from the fight, Bob received a 
phone call from the Board. He listened for a minute and then hung 
up. Driving out to the gym he owned with Sharon, he located her and 
took her into their office.

"I just got a call from the Board. Mombollo was found dead in his 
room last night. He fought with somebody, and they broke his neck."

"Shit, they don't suspect us, do they? We weren't even in Vegas."

"Believe me they know. If they thought we did it, we'd be in Vegas 
today explaining ourselves. They just wanted to warn us."

"Warn us of what?"

"Whoever killed Mombollo carved your name in his chest before he 
died."



         THE PRIZEFIGHT XVIII: Gotterdammerung
         -------------------------------------

Sharon was cleaning up after Erika's twenty third birthday. It had 
been a small party. Just Sharon, her husband Bob, Erika, her fiance 
and Sharon's brother Jack, and Erika's three dogs. Bob had stopped 
off at the bakery and picked up a cake for twenty people. Two slices 
each for the three guests, one slice each for the dogs, ten for the 
birthday girl Erika, and one left over. The math had worked out 
perfectly until Erika and her dogs both went after the last piece. 
Have you ever seen four hundred pounds worth of East German guard 
dogs back off when a woman growls at them?

Erika was still somewhat of an enigma to Sharon. If asked her age, 
you would probably guess that she was somewhere between twenty five 
and thirty five. Her large size and low body fat gave her features a 
chiseled look that made her look older than she was. At six feet tall 
and two hundred pounds, most people found the German woman to be an
intimidating presence.  But if you were one of the few people lucky 
enough to get to know her, you would find that she was a fun loving 
girl who possessed an almost child like innocence. Sharon had 
actually seen her romping around with her dogs chasing butterflies 
in the large field behind her country house. 

Sharon often thought of Erika as a girl despite the fact that she 
wasn't that much younger than herself. But there were large 
differences in their backgrounds. Sharon had been raised in a large 
family and had lived a relatively normal life until she started 
boxing seriously in college. Erika was born on a farm in rural East 
Germany. She had been an only child. Her mother had died when she 
was a baby, and she lost her father when she was ten. The state had 
recognized Erika's talents at an early age and had recruited her 
into their Olympic program. They had been grooming her for track and 
field, but it soon became clear that she had an aptitude for boxing. 
Female boxing was a legitimate sport with a long history in Germany, 
so Erika found herself with a career at the age of twelve. When the 
wall came down, the teenage Erika was taken into the former West 
Germany by her trainers. She quickly became the woman's heavyweight 
champion. She became wealthy and famous, but emotionally, she had 
never been given the chance to properly mature.

Almost a year ago, Erika had come into Sharon and Bob's life and 
changed it forever. Sharon had fought Erika for her championship, 
and had spoiled the girl's undefeated record. In the process, they 
had also gained each other's respect. After the fight, Erika had 
taken Sharon and Bob on a whirlwind tour of Germany. Over the weeks 
that they had spent together, Sharon and Erika had come to love each 
other like sisters. When it was time to go home, Sharon and Bob had 
visited Erika's manager. With a lot of money and a little bit of arm 
twisting, they had managed to buy the girl's contract away from him. 
They offered Erika her freedom, but she chose instead to return with 
them to the States and fight under their management until she could 
pay them back.

Sharon had introduced Erika to her youngest brother Jack. They had 
hit it off immediately. Within three days, Jack had asked Erika to 
marry him. Sharon thought that they might make a good match. She had 
always thought that Jack was too serious. Erika was just the girl to 
loosen him up. She just hoped that she didn't kill him in the 
process. Because Erika was also pure trouble. When she wasn't 
attracting it, she was causing it. Most men wouldn't last a three 
day weekend with her. Hell, most men wouldn't get through a 
handshake. So far, Jack had gotten by with just a broken arm and a 
few contusions. But Sharon knew that Erika had been attracted to him 
because he was tough. She just hoped that her brother was tough 
enough.

In the city, Jack was just pulling in front of his townhouse. He 
was exhausted, his head hurt, and he could barely walk. Just another 
night with hurricane Erika. Jack staggered to the front door and 
managed to get his key in on the second try. He vowed never to try 
to keep up with Erika again. But he had felt some responsibility to 
defend his country when Erika had said that American beer was like 
water. His mistake.

The door opened and he tumbled in. Closing it behind him, he tossed 
his keys on a table. A female's voice echoed in the darkened room. 

"Nice to see you again Jack."

Jack fumbled for the lights and blinked when they came on. 

"Oh my God, Lori!"

Jack didn't waste any time. He hit her with a sledgehammer right. 
Lori stepped back and rubbed her jaw.

"Is that any way to greet an ex-girlfriend."

Jack was about to throw another punch when two large men grabbed his 
arms. Lori stepped in and started to work him over. She punched him 
in the face and split his lip. Another punch caught him in the eye. 
Stepping in, she sent her fist plunging into his gut. Jack couldn't 
take it. All of the beer he had drunk came rushing up as he vomited 
all over Lori. She stood there trembling with rage. 

Through clenched teeth she said, "Get him out of here before I kill 
him."

Her two henchman trussed him up and carried him out to a waiting van.



The next afternoon, Sharon was alone at home preparing dinner. She 
was  preparing a healthy meal of skinless chicken breasts and rice 
for six. Sharon and Bob had appetites, but she swore Erika should be 
eating out of a trough. Bob and Erika had gone out to take care of 
some paperwork with immigration. Erika couldn't possibly get in any 
trouble signing her name, could she? Sharon had a mental vision of 
Erika dragging some fat, red faced bureaucrat across his desk by his 
tie. She hoped Bob wouldn't be calling her for bail again. The phone 
rang and she picked it up.

"Sharon Moore?"

"Yes."

"This is the Chicago police..."

"What's Erika done now?"

"Uh, we don't know anything about Erika. We're calling about your 
brother Jack. He appears to be in some kind of trouble."

"Is he OK? He isn't hurt, is he?"

"We received a report that your brother was seen being carried out 
of his dwelling by two men. We checked his house and found some 
signs of a struggle. Could you please come down to the station now 
and answer some questions?"

"Yes, yes of course."

"Good, we have a car on the way. They'll pick you up in a few minutes."

Sharon tried calling Bob, but couldn't get through. She heard a car 
pulling up two minutes later. She hastily scribbled a note and went 
to meet the police at the front door.



Bob was driving Erika back from immigration.

"For a minute there, I thought you were going to grab that guy by 
the tie and drag him across his desk."

"I vwas."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't. Fighting with bureaucrats is no fun. You 
can't just buy them off here like you can in other countries."

"Ja, zey are more expensive here."

Bob laughed, "And if that didn't work, you might just have to get 
married to stay."

Erika had a wistful look on her face as she thought about Jack.
 
"Ja, I think zat could be arranged."

When they got back, Jack saw Sharon's note and showed it to Erika. 
He called the police, and they told him that no report had been filed 
and no car had been sent. He tried calling Jack, but there was no 
answer. After another fifteen minutes of frantic calling, Bob gave 
up.

"I don't know what the hell's going on. Lets go over and check out 
Jack's house."

At Jack's, they saw that his car was still there and that there were 
signs of a struggle. There was blood and vomit on the floor. Erika 
was getting extremely worried. Bob put an arm around her and held 
her tight. When they got back home, there was a message on the 
answering machine to call the Board.

The Board was the governing body of the fighting circuit. Bob had 
worked for them for ten years as both a fighter and a trainer until 
he met Sharon and quit. He called back and listened to what they had 
to say. He looked visibly upset as he hung up.

"The Board was calling to ask if we knew anything about a cage fight 
between Sharon and Lori. They heard that it would be held tomorrow 
night somewhere in Los Angeles. I told them that Lori must have 
snatched Sharon and Jack."

"Vwill they do anything?"

"Damn right they will. Besides the fact that she probably made them 
a couple of hundred million, they love her. No one fucks with the 
Board or its people. They'll tear LA. apart looking for her. That 
was the chairman himself. He told me that a private jet will be 
waiting for us at the airport."

Bob looked grim as he quickly packed and took Erika to the airport. 
Within three hours they were in LA. and the waiting began. After a 
sleepless night, Bob couldn't take it any longer.

"Lets go look for them ourselves. If the Board finds anything, 
they can get me on the cellular."

Erika nodded in agreement and they hit the pavement. Bob and Erika 
visited dozens of seedy looking bars and gyms. Bob spread around 
thousands of dollars trying to get a seat at the fight. A lot of 
people knew about it, but nobody knew where it was. Then, as it was 
getting dark, they struck pay dirt. A ferret like man snatched a 
hundred dollar bill from Bob's hand and told him he was in luck. He 
knew where they could see the fight. The man gave them a time and an 
address. He told them that it would cost ten thousand each. He told 
them that it was a bargain to watch somebody die. Erika started to 
lunge for the man, but she was stopped dead by Bob's arm. She was 
surprised by the strength of Sharon's soft spoken husband.

"It's not time yet," he said.

Bob called the Board and was met by a few of its "agents". They were 
probably rented mob enforcers. Just perfect for what they had to do.
The address they were given led them to a steel door in a back 
alley. The Board agents waited around the corner until they got in. 
They banged on the door and a shutter was opened. Bob passed the 
money through the slot and they were admitted to a dark smoke filled 
room dominated by a big screen television. A small crowd was sitting 
and watching the image of an empty cage.

Bob wheeled around and shoved the man who let them in against the 
wall. Erika was amazed when Bob grabbed the man by the lapels and 
lifted him off his feet. 

"What the fuck's this shit? We paid to see a fight, not watch TV."

"Hey, there's no need for violence. Nobody's seeing this fight live."

A man tried to sneak up behind Bob. Erika drove her fist into his 
kidneys, spun him around, and dropped him with a right.

"Anyone else want to be a hero?" Bob asked. "You assholes have ten 
seconds to clear out of here."

A member of the audience stood up and yelled, "Bullshit, we paid to 
see this fight."

The crowd yelled in agreement. Bob reached in his jacket and pulled 
out a grenade. Half of the crowd decided to catch the match on tape. 
The other half decided to join them when Bob pulled the pin and 
tossed it into the center of the room. Bob dragged the man out with 
them as they ducked back into the alley.

"Zat vwasn't a real grenade?" Erika asked.

Bob let the explosion answer her question as the door was blown open 
and slammed against the brick wall. The Board agents came running 
down the alley.

"You see these guys. They work for the Board. You know what that 
means, don't you?" 

The fear in the man's eyes answered the question for him.

"Now where the fuck is that fight being held?"

"I-I-I really don't know. Nobody does. We were only told about this 
fight yesterday. I have no idea where it's being broadcast from."

Bob looked into the man's eyes, "I believe you. Erika, put him to 
sleep."

Bob released the man and Erika knocked him out with an expert punch 
to the jaw.

She frowned as she said, "Sharon showed me zat punch."

"Come on, lets go back inside."

Bob and Erika returned inside the room. Chairs and other debris 
littered the floor. The television screen had a bunch of tears in 
it, but it was still working. Bob and Erika watched in horror as 
Sharon appeared on the screen. She was being wheeled out in a small 
cage by two large men.



Lori watched as Sharon was wheeled out in her cage. Lori smiled at 
the sight. She had been planning this night from the first day she 
had awoke in the hospital where Sharon had put her after she fought 
her for the circuit championship. She had spent months having this 
arena constructed in a warehouse that she had bought under a false 
name. Her manager had brought her a few "volunteers" to test the 
cage out, but this would be the first and last time that it would 
host an actual match.



Sharon didn't know what the hell was going on. She had climbed in 
the back of the unmarked police car and promptly passed out. When 
she had regained consciousness, she found herself in a small cell. 
She had tested the bars, and found them anchored firmly. After 
waiting an hour, a slickly dressed man stopped by to talk to her. 
He stood well back from the bars.

"What the hell's going on here?" she demanded.

"Ms. Moore, my name is... Well, it's not really important what my 
name is. We brought you here to fight."

"Then you should have contacted my manager."

"I'm sorry. We're a small group. We really couldn't afford your fee."

"Then I won't do it."

"It's your choice. But I can give you three good reasons to fight. 
First, we have your brother. Second, you're going into the cage 
whether you like it or not," the man paused.

"And the third reason?"

"When you see your opponent, you'll want to fight."

She had spent the last day waiting for the fight. A man had shown up 
a few times to feed her. At least it appeared that they wanted her 
to be healthy for the fight. The last time he showed up, he also 
dropped off a small leather outfit for her to wear. Sharon left it 
in the corner. Later, Mr. Slick returned with a pair of muscle heads 
wheeling a small cage. The cage was designed to mate with a small 
door in the bars of her cell. They attached it and opened the door 
for her.

"Get dressed and get in, it's fight time."

"You don't expect me to get in that thing, do you?"

Mr. Slick snapped his fingers and another pair of muscle heads hauled 
Jack in front of the cell. He was bound and gagged. One of the men 
pressed a gun to his head.

"Any more questions?" he asked.

Sharon shook her head and stripped. The men leered as she exposed 
her naked body to them. She didn't give them the satisfaction of 
trying to cover up. The black outfit consisted of a pair of tight 
leather shorts and a few decorative leather straps that wrapped 
around her upper body. Her breasts were left exposed. Before she 
climbed into the cage, she looked Mr. Slick in the eye.

"You know I'm going to make you pay for this."

"Get in line. We know the Board is looking for us already. Let me 
explain how this is going to work. If you lose, we're going to kill 
your brother. Of course, you will also be dead. If you win, we'll 
leave you and your brother in the cage alive. Either way, we'll be 
long gone with a small fortune before anyone finds this place."

Sharon didn't see any options, so she crawled in. The men locked the 
cage door and wheeled her to the arena. The cage was hooked up to 
a mating door in a huge cage that dominated the warehouse, and she 
was allowed to enter. The fighting cage was circular, about thirty 
feet in diameter, and had odd looking rectangular bars spaced about 
six inches apart. A number of video cameras were mounted on the 
ceiling of the cage, five feet above her head. It was obvious that 
this had been well planned, so she didn't even bother looking for a 
way out. Her opponent stepped up to the side of the cage unannounced.

"Lori, what a surprise."

"That's right bitch, we've got some unfinished business. I'm going 
to show the world that you cheated. That you aren't half the woman I 
am. It's payback time."

"That weasel of yours was right. You didn't need to grab my brother 
to get me to fight you. I'm going to enjoy this. And by the way, 
they did a shitty job putting your tits back together."

Lori lunged for her through the bars screaming like an animal. 

"I'll fucking kill you bitch. I'll rip your fucking tits off and 
feed them to you."

Sharon fired a punch through the bars that bloodied Lori's nose.

"Enough talk bitch. Get in here and get some."

Lori managed to calm down a bit by the time they let her in the 
cage. She entered through two doors so that Sharon wouldn't have any 
chance of slipping out. Sharon looked Lori over as she stepped 
inside. When they had first met, Lori had been a muscular beauty who 
had used her charms to lure her brother into bed and then into the 
ring. She wasn't the same woman now. The bitch was huge. Though she 
was two inches shorter than Sharon, Lori was at least twenty pounds 
heavier. The signs of steroid abuse were obvious.

"By the time I finish with you, you might as well complete the 
process and have a cock sewn on. Because after I finish with you, 
you're only going to be able to pass for a guy, and an ugly guy at 
that," Sharon said.

Lori raised her fists and approached Sharon. She was wearing a 
black leather outfit with silver studs that allowed her fake tits to 
stand out like torpedoes. 

"So, you still think you can box?" Sharon asked.

"I'm better than you ever where," Lori snarled.

Sharon shot a left jab in Lori's face. Lori tried to respond, but 
she was caught twice more by Sharon's longer reach.

Stepping in and delivering a right cross, Sharon said, "You've got a 
short memory bitch."



Bob and Erika watched anxiously as Lori and Sharon battled it out. 
The Board's agents where trying to get an electronics wizard to 
trace the signal.

"Sharon seems to be doing good," Erika said hopefully.

"There isn't a better boxer on the planet," Bob said, "but this 
isn't a boxing match."



Sharon was discovering the same thing as Lori got frustrated and 
charged her. She tried to step out of the way, but she was too late. 
Lori used her weight to drive Sharon into the bars. Sharon screamed 
as she felt her back ripped open by a series of spikes that she 
hadn't noticed before. Lori tried to press Sharon further against 
the bars. Ignoring the pain of the spikes penetrating her palms, 
Sharon grasped the bars behind her head. Lifting her legs, she 
wedged her feet against Lori's chest and kicked. Lori flew ten feet 
and landed on her back. Sharon dropped back to the floor. Lori 
jumped up and charged again. Sharon caught Lori by the shoulders and 
spun her around. 

Shoving her towards the bars, Sharon yelled, "Your turn bitch!"

But just before Lori hit the bars, the spikes retracted.

"What the fuck?" Sharon asked puzzled.

Lori sent a booted foot into Sharon's crotch that doubled her over 
with a shriek.

"My cage, my rules, bitch," Lori answered.

Now this is more like it, she thought as she sent Sharon rolling 
onto her back with a kick to her right tit. A stomp left a huge red 
patch on Sharon's stomach. She squashed one of Sharon's tits beneath 
her heel and started grinding.

Sharon's brain was just getting over the pain of the groin kick. 
Lori was stomping the life out of her and she wasn't going to stop. 
Twisting with desperation, she managed to avoid a kick to the head 
with only a glancing blow. Grabbing an ankle with her left hand, she 
sent her fist rocketing into Lori's pubic region. It was Lori's turn 
to shriek as two more punches followed. With a swift kick to her 
ass, Sharon sent Lori pitching forward onto her face.  Rolling over, 
she got up and closed on her opponent. Lori was getting to her feet 
with her back to Sharon. Good sportsmanship wasn't on her mind as 
she sent her fists crashing into Lori's lower back. Lori started to 
turn, but Sharon staggered her with a hammer blow to the back of the 
neck. Stepping up right next to her, Sharon slapped a full nelson on 
the shorter woman. Sharon's triceps corded with tension as she 
slowly forced Lori's neck to the breaking point. 

From outside the cage, she heard Mr. Slick yell, "Hey Sharon, watch 
this."

Sharon looked over to where Mr. Slick stood. He was standing next to 
the two muscle heads who where holding her brother. He pointed a 
small revolver at Jack's leg and shot him. Sharon's grip relaxed as 
the shock set in. Mr. Slick pointed the gun at the side of Jack's 
head and she released the hold. Free of Sharon's arms, Lori struck 
like a snake. Grabbing hold of Sharon's hand, she whipped her face 
first into the spiked bars. Sharon's head hit hard and bounced. She 
started to black out. Lori took hold of her hair and drove her head 
into the bars a half a dozen times. Twisting Sharon around to face 
her, she saw that her face had been ripped to hamburger. Blood was 
pouring out of a dozen deep lacerations. Lori drew back her fist and 
slammed it into Sharon's face until she was covered with blood also. 

Before Sharon totally lost consciousness, Lori stepped behind her and 
trapped her head between her huge forearms. Tendons strained in 
Sharon's neck as Lori twisted her head around. Just before Sharon's 
neck broke, their eyes locked. Lori had dreamed of this moment. 
Dreamed of seeing the fear in Sharon's eyes as she begged for her 
life. But now that her dreams were about to be realized, all she saw 
in Sharon's eyes was defiance.

Blood bubbled between her lips as Sharon croaked, "I'll fucking come 
back and haunt you bitch."

Lori screamed and let go. Sharon fell unconscious to the floor of the 
cage. Lori trembled with rage. The fucking bitch had spoiled it. She 
had spoiled her victory. Reaching down, she took Sharon by the 
straps of her outfit and hoisted her onto her shoulders. Standing 
up, she pressed Sharon's limp body over her head and paraded around 
the cage.

"I've won!" she yelled. "The bitch couldn't beat me in a fair fight. 
I'm the greatest fighter who ever lived."

With an explosive thrust, she sent Sharon flying towards the bars. 
Sharon hit hard and dropped limply to the floor. Lori posed for the 
cameras as she raised her arms in victory.



Halfway across the city, Erika screamed and buried her head in 
Bob's shoulder. Bob stood there in shock as he focused on Sharon's 
body.

"No, it can't be. It just can't be. It isn't! She isn't dead, she's 
trying to get up!"

But before Erika could turn around, the broadcast ended. Bob stalked 
over to where the electronics technician was poking around.

"Did you get anything?" he demanded.

"Yeah, the signals being fed by microwave. We know what direction 
it's coming from, and the source can't be more than a few miles away. 
We have guys out there right now looking for the broadcast antenna."



Back at the warehouse, Lori was pissed. The reality of the fight 
hadn't been nearly as satisfying as her fantasies. She hadn't even 
finished ruining the bitch's tits.

Stepping out of the cage, she motioned to the two men who had 
brought Sharon out.

"Put her back in the transport cage," she ordered. "We're taking her 
with us. Pack up her brother also. I want them both."

Mr. Slick rushed over to where Lori was standing.

"It's too risky taking them with us. Lets just shoot them right 
now."

Lori grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off of his feet.

"You do what I say. Besides, if we take them with us, you can tape 
me finishing her. Double your profits."

Fear and greed registered on the man's face.

"Great idea Lori. I'll see that the his leg is bandaged and we'll 
stick him in the truck with Sharon."

Lori dropped him and walked away.



A few hours after the fight ended, the Board's agents located the 
warehouse. There was nothing much left to find. All of the cameras 
and electronics had been pulled out. About the only thing left was 
the cage. Erika was close to flipping out.

"Do you think zey are OK?" she asked worriedly.

"There's a lot of blood on the floor of the cage, and there's a pool 
of blood on the floor over there. That's bad. But there's not enough 
blood to prove that anybody died here, and there aren't any bodies. 
That's good. But even if they are alive, the situation isn't good. 
The Board's been checking up on Lori. She dropped out of sight after 
she recovered from the beating Sharon gave her. It seems that she 
took up cage fighting. She was a fucking nasty bitch when we first 
met her, and now she's a psycho killer. There's no way she's going to 
let them go. I figure she's just keeping them alive until she's had 
her fun. We have to find them before she's finished."

"Shouldn't vwe go to the police?"

"I don't thing we have that much time. Besides, these guys can shake 
things loose a lot quicker than the cops. Right now they're tracking 
down the people who were holding her cage matches. When they find 
them, they'll be asking questions, and they won't be asking nicely. 
But don't get your hopes up. It's still a long shot. They could be 
anywhere. What we need is pack of bloodhounds."

Erika snapped her fingers and her face lit up.

"Get my dogs," she said.

"I didn't mean that literally."

"I am serious. Zey are not ordinary dogs. Zey are the result of 
fifty years of breeding und animal experimentation. Zey vwere not 
just bred to tear people apart. Zey must find them first."

"You really think they might have a chance?"

"Zey know both Sharon und Jack. Zey might be able to find them. Do 
you have a better idea?"



Sharon woke up in a small windowless room. Jack was cradling her 
head in his lap and cleaning her wounds. She tried to say something, 
but her throat hurt like hell and all that came out was a croak.

"Don't try to talk," Jack said. "Here, try to drink some of this."

He slowly poured some water in her mouth.

"Evidently Lori still wants you in decent shape. Those assholes gave 
me a medical kit and some food before we got locked in here. As far 
as I can tell, you're not in too bad of a shape. You have some 
broken ribs, a couple of dozen bad cuts, and you sure won't be 
getting any modeling contracts for a while. What I'm really worried 
about is the blood loss. Here, take another drink. You were bleeding 
like a pig on the way over here. I managed to stop the bleeding, but 
you're looking a bit pale. How do you feel?"

Sharon tried to get up. She was hit with waves of pain and 
dizziness, but she managed to sit up.

"I feel weak as a kitten," she rasped. "How's your leg?"

"That asshole shot me in the thigh. I've lost a bit of blood myself, 
and I sure as hell won't be doing any running. But they bandaged the 
wound, and the bleeding has stopped. I'll live. Try to eat 
something. I don't know when Lori's going to come back for you, but 
you can bet it's going to be soon. You've got to get some of your 
strength back."

Sharon let Jack tear the food into small pieces as she forced 
herself to eat. She had a few broken teeth and couldn't chew, so she 
just swallowed.

"Where are we?"

"I'm not quite sure. It was still dark when they brought us in here. 
But it looked like an old warehouse to me. We weren't in the truck 
for longer than half an hour, so we can't be too far from where we 
were. Sharon, listen to me. I have something serious to say to you. 
Win or lose, these guys aren't going to let us go. If you get the 
chance to finish Lori off again, you don't worry about me. Just make 
sure she comes with us. Do you understand?"

Sharon squeezed her brother's hand.

"I swear I'll send that bitch straight to hell."
 


Lori was in a worse mood than usual. She'd like to tear the bitch in 
half right now, but her back was fucked up from Sharon's punches. 
She'd give it a day, and then drag Sharon out of her hole. She was 
glad she had brought her along. She hadn't hurt her nearly bad 
enough. Swallowing a mixture of painkillers that would make an NFL 
player blink, she lapsed into a drug induced sleep.



It was an unusual request, but the Board would do anything to help 
Sharon. Erika's dogs were flown in on their own charter. Bob and 
Erika took a Board limo down to the airport to pick them up. A 
nervous looking man holding a cellular phone led the animals off the 
plane. He had been given the task of rounding them up at the house. 
They had knocked him down and nearly torn his throat out before the 
intelligent animals heard Erika's voice barking commands in German 
at them over the phone. It was the damnedest thing he ever saw. The 
dogs cocked their heads and listened as the woman talked to them for 
a minute. She stopped talking, and they got off of him and lined up 
sitting in a row looking at him. He then heard the woman speaking in 
English. Something about the dogs having their orders and that they 
wouldn't give him any more trouble. And other than taking his lunch 
away from him on the plane, they hadn't. 

Sharon called her dogs and they hopped into the large passenger area 
of the car. Bob told the driver to start cruising the city. They 
were going to start at the warehouse and work their way out. Sharon 
gave the dogs some more orders. She lowered the rear windows and 
opened the sunroof. Bob was amazed by the animals. They didn't look 
like dogs just hanging their heads out a window. They really did 
appear to be on a mission. Bob got a bit skeptical as the limo 
passed the warehouse where Sharon had been and they didn't react. 
But a block later, they started barking excitedly.

"Vwe were coming from upwind," Erika explained.

She rewarded the animals and told them to continue. Bob had never 
really gotten along with Erika's dogs before. But he swore if they 
found Sharon and Jack, he'd personally feed them steak every day.



When Lori woke up, she wasn't really surprised to find her manager 
waiting for her. Another man might have taken the money and run, but 
she knew this weasel would stick around for the chance to make a few 
more bucks off of a second video tape.

"Wake our guests. Get them whatever they need. We'll fight again in 
four hours."

Mr. Slick nodded and scurried off. Lori went to get something to 
eat. Hurting people took energy. Lori smiled a rare smile. Maybe she 
could get on a box of Wheaties with that slogan.



Bob and Erika had been driving around for almost a day. Other than 
letting the dogs out every few hours to relieve themselves, they 
hadn't stopped. As the day wore on, they changed drivers and Erika 
had begun working the dogs in shifts. Bob and Erika were also 
swapping off, snatching whatever rest they could. 

As day turned into night and they were approaching the city's 
outskirts, Bob asked, "Erika, have you ever killed anyone?"

"No, of course not," she replied.

"I want you to make me a promise. Don't do it unless you have no 
other choice. Both Sharon and I have been in that position, and it's 
no fun. When we catch up to Lori, you direct the dogs and watch my 
back. I'll do whatever needs to be done."

Erika didn't say anything, she just nodded.



In the small room, Sharon gritted her teeth and stretched. She knew 
Lori would be coming for her soon, and she had to be ready. She had 
asked for a gallon of her favorite sports drink, and had been 
surprised when she got it. The long rest had done her good. She was 
now doing some light exercises to warm up her joints and muscles. 
Sharon was thankful to find that she if she ignored the pain, she 
would still have most of her mobility. Her strength wasn't even 
close to one hundred percent, but she was hoping that Lori's wasn't 
either.

The door opened and the muscle heads entered. Mr. Slick waited 
outside with his revolver.

"It's show time. Lets move it."

They were in the old warehouse that Lori had been using to train in. 
Under her direction, the men had arranged pallets and crates to form 
a fighting pit with a four foot high wall. Lori's manager had 
mounted cameras at each corner. One of the men escorting them tied 
Jack to a column so that he would have a full view of the fight. The 
other muscle head poked Sharon as she climbed over the wall. Wheeling 
on him, she grabbed some of his fingers and bent them backwards 
until they broke. The man screamed, but not nearly as shrilly as 
when she followed up with a crushing knee to the groin. The big man 
dropped to the ground with tears streaming from his eyes. Sharon 
looked around to see Mr. Slick standing next to Jack with the 
gun in his side.

"Very impressive Ms. Moore. I'm glad to see you're feeling better. 
Try to give Lori a good fight so that I can charge more for the 
tape."

Sharon glared at him for a moment and then climbed quietly into the 
pit. Lori dropped in from the other side.

"My my my, if your fans could see you now," Lori said as she shook 
her head.

"You think you can beat me without your fancy cage bitch?"

"I've been waiting a long time for this. I beat you too fast in the 
cage. This time I'm going to do you slowly."

"Then come and get it Lori. That is, if you're woman enough."

Lori approached her with her fists raised. Sharon smiled. She was 
glad Lori was making the mistake of engaging her in a fist fight 
again. Even before Lori had transformed herself into the hulk, 
Sharon hadn't thought much of her as a boxer. Sharon didn't waste 
any time as the bitch got in range. She opened with a hard straight 
right that blew by Lori's guard. Ducking a counter, she hit Lori in 
the ribs with two left uppercuts. Before the woman could recover, 
she grabbed her by the shoulders and delivered a head butt to her 
face. But Lori had learned a few tricks of her own in the cages. 
Hooking a foot behind Sharon's, she sent the taller woman tripping 
to the cold concrete floor. A kick caught Sharon painfully on the 
thigh as she tried to get back up. Kicking out, she managed to 
tangle Lori's feet and send her falling backwards.

Both women got back to their feet. Lori tried another punch. Sharon 
deflected it, but was caught in the stomach with a side kick. Lori 
pursued her and launched another kick that sent Sharon smashing into 
the wall of crates. Sharon knew she was in trouble. Most of the 
wounds from their earlier fight had opened again, and she could see 
blood dripping all over the floor. She was feeling a bit woozy. 
Trapped against the wall, she managed to duck Lori's first punch. 
But the next one hit Sharon right over her broken ribs. Sharon 
gasped as she felt the splintering in her side. Seeing the effect of 
her punch, Lori jammed her right into the spot three more times. 
Withdrawing her fist, she was ecstatic to see shards of bone poking 
out through rips in Sharon's skin.

As Sharon weakened further, Lori pounded her in the face. Sharon 
tried to defend herself, but she felt like she was fighting 
under water. Lori continued to pound her face. Remembering why she 
hadn't gotten much satisfaction from the first fight, she turned her 
attention to Sharon's perfect tits. A right uppercut landed with a 
wet smack sending Sharon's left tit quivering. Lori's left squashed 
her right breast against her sternum. As Lori prepared to send a 
third punch into Sharon's proud womanhood, she heard a man's scream 
echoing through the large building.



Bob and Erika were getting discouraged. They had already covered 
half of Los Angeles. Bob was beginning to fear that either they 
weren't in the city, or that the smog had killed the dog's sense of 
smell. Without warning, the two German Shepherds went off as if they 
had seen the mailman. The dogs had both moved to the same window and 
were barking at a large abandoned looking warehouse. Bob ordered the 
driver to pull over. He made a quick call to the Board's agents to 
get there as soon as possible.

"We can't wait. Gather the troops Erika, we're going in."

Bob jumped out the door with Erika and the dogs following them. The 
animals led the way to a side door. Bob saw light coming from around 
the jamb. Trying the knob, he discovered it wasn't locked. He 
opened it slowly until he saw that a guard on the other side had 
seen him. Yanking the door wide open, he dived through as the man 
pulled a pistol out of his belt. Before Bob could get to him, 
Erika's rottweiller leapt past him and clamped down on the man's 
wrist with its huge jaws. The man screamed as bone crunched and his 
hand was nearly severed from his body. Erika entered and issued a 
command. The dog immediately dropped the man's arm. Bob knocked 
the guy out with a swift kick in the head and picked up the gun.

"They know we're here now. Be careful," he said.



Despite the beating she was taking, Sharon managed to smile when she 
heard Erika's voice from across the warehouse. 

Looking Lori right in the eye, she said, "Bitch, no matter what 
happens in here, you're fucked."

"You first!" Lori shrieked.

Lori quickly hit Sharon in the jaw with a left-right combination. 
Stepping in, she flipped Sharon around and applied her neck breaking 
hold. Sharon fought for life. Her neck muscles knotted like steel 
cables as she resisted Lori's huge arms. As they struggled, Sharon 
saw Erika's dogs enter her view like the wrath of God. The two 
Shepherds both hit a muscle head simultaneously sending him rolling 
on the floor. The other muscle head tried to run as the freakishly 
large rottweiler tackled him from behind. Both men started to scream 
as the dogs started to rip into their prey. Sharon saw Bob and Erika 
come running from around a stack of boxes. Bob had a gun pointing at 
Mr. Slick, but the man stepped behind Jack. Firing over Jack's 
shoulder, Mr. Slick hit Bob and Sharon saw him go down. The man 
aimed at Erika, but as he squeezed the trigger, Jack leapt up in 
front of him and took the bullet in the back.
   
Sharon heard a scream and realized it was coming from her. Blood 
welled up around her fingernails where she clutched Lori's forearm. 
With the strength of the insane, she smashed her head backwards into 
Lori's face again and again until she felt the hold loosening. 
Muscling Lori's arm from around her throat, she turned and twisted 
it around the bitch's back in a hammer lock. Sharon's biceps swelled 
like baseballs under her skin as she wrenched Lori's arm right out 
of its socket. Lori howled in pain as Sharon kept going until Lori's 
hand was touching the back of her head. Feeling herself grow faint 
again, Sharon let Lori's arm drop limply back to her side and she 
wrapped her own arm like a python around the bitch's neck. Lori 
thrashed as Sharon's arm cut into her windpipe. Sharon rammed her 
knee into the woman's spine and yanked backwards. 

As her vision started to go black and spots flashed before her eyes, 
Sharon gave Lori's neck one last twist as she yelled, "See you in 
hell bitch!"



Seeing Bob fall to the floor and Jack sacrifice himself for her, 
Erika yelled to her dogs and pointed at Mr. Slick. The man scampered 
down an aisle firing wildly at the pursuing animals. Looking over 
the wall of crates, she saw Sharon choking Lori from behind. Diving 
into the pit, she tackled the bitch from the front. All three women 
went toppling to the floor. Erika scrambled onto Lori's chest and 
prepared to send her fist crashing into the woman's face, but Lori 
wasn't moving. Erika knew that she was dead. Crawling over the body, 
Erika rolled Sharon over. She wasn't moving either.

"Please Sharon, don't die," she begged.

Putting her fingers to Sharon's jugular, she felt a very weak pulse. 
Looking around the warehouse, she saw that she was the only person 
moving. She could hear her dogs barking and growling at the far 
end of the building. There was nothing but devastation around her.
Reminded of a story that her father had told her when she was a 
little girl, about when the gods would war until they destroyed their 
enemies and the world ended, she whispered "Gotterdammerung". 

Erika did what she could for her adopted family until the Board's 
agents showed up. One of them who had worked as an army medic was 
able to apply some first aid, and direct the others to carry Bob, 
Jack, and Sharon out to the waiting cars. A small convoy pulled out 
and raced to the nearest hospital.

Erika wandered the empty warehouse in a daze. She found her dogs 
fighting over the largest pieces of Mr. Slick. The man was spread 
all over the floor. Erika turned from the sight. Without looking 
behind her, she spoke softly to the dogs. The animals dropped what 
they were chewing on and fell in behind her as she retreated to 
the entrance. The head agent was waiting for her. Two more agents 
were spreading gasoline throughout the building.

"This can never have happened. We're going to burn it to the ground."

Erika nodded slowly and took a deep breath.

"I vwant to do it," she said.

The man nodded back. As the last of the agents left the warehouse, 
he struck a flare and handed it to her. Erika ordered her dogs out 
and sent it arcing towards the area where the fight had taken place. 
Almost immediately, flames leapt up over the stacks of boxes and 
spread quickly. The fire was reflected in Erika's eyes as she 
allowed herself to shed a single tear. Wiping it away, she pulled 
herself together and got in the last car as the head agent held the 
door for her. Her friends would need her to be strong right now. 
Erika would never realize it, but much of the little girl that she 
had been was left in that warehouse, making room for the woman she 
would become.


FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723 

[Chainer★]

FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So Erika, is everything OK at home?"

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

"How'd the furniture get damaged?"

"My dogs vwere chewing on it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Erika looked a bit offended.

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

She mentioned a figure. Bob and Sharon looked stunned.

"Are those American dollars?" Bob asked.

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

"The house looks suspiciously intact," Bob noted.

"Those crates have air holes," Sharon observed.

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

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

They entered the house and started looking around.

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

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

"The food in the refrigerator is fresh."

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

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

Bob and Sharon were looking worried.

"Erika sold the house," Sharon said.

"No doubt about it."

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

"Vwelcome home!"

"What happened to our house?" Sharon asked

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

"You been working out?" Sharon asked.

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

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

"You are such a kidder."

Erika bounded up the stairs. Sharon was frowning.

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

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

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

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

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

"The good news please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bob blinked at that.

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

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

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

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

"Don't move," Bob whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Erika said goodnight and closed the door.

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

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

"Neither can I," he grinned.

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



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

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



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

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

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

"Then what's the problem?"

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

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

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

"What do I have to do with it?"

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

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

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

"OK, I'll buy that."

"Have you and Bob ever broken a bed?"

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

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

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

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

Sharon wiped a tear from her eye.

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

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

"Gee, thanks sis. Anymore great advice?"

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

Jack looked offended.

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

Sharon patted her on the head.

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

Erika shifted uncomfortably.

"I am having problems vwith your brother."

"Oh, what kind of problems?"

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

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

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

"Sounds like a good problem to me."

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

"Try some foreplay."

"Vwhat is zat?"

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

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

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

"Vwhat!"

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Another pretty win," Sharon noted.

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

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



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

"What was that all about?"

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

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

Sharon blinked and looked at him for a minute.

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

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

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

Sharon listened as he explained his suggestion.

"Do you really think so?" she asked.

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

"Lets do it!" she exclaimed.

"You want me to get you signed up?"

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What!" Sharon exploded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe," Erika replied mischievously.



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What kind of questions?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was scattered cheering amongst the crowd.

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

"Do you see that man?" she asked.

"Ja."

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

"I am sorry zat innocent bystanders were hurt."

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

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

Sharon glared at Erika. Erika smiled weakly.

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

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

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

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



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



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

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

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



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

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

"I need to talk to you Sharon."

"Sure Erika, lets go in the kitchen."

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

"Do you remember my friend Ava?"

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

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

"Ava is in the hospital."

"What happened?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"One week."

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

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

Erika shook her head.

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

"No, und he must not find out."

Sharon nodded. It would be their secret.



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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

"German whore," Monique said maintaining her smile.

Erika smiled back and replied, "French slut."

"Communist bitch."

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

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

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

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

Erika didn't respond to Monique.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Answer me when I talk to you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Too late, you cowardly bitch."

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

Erika shuddered. She knew Sharon wasn't exaggerating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tea?"

"Ja, tea in London with Lisa Hawthorne."

"The name sounds familiar. Who is she?"

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

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

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

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

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

Erika tried to smile past her swollen lips.

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

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



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



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


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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know vwhat zis means?"

"I think I do."

"Vwe might fight again."

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

"Vwell how far do you intend to go?"

"All the way. And you?"

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Care to make a bet?"

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

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

"Points? Vwhat are points?"

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

Erika frowned at the thought.

"Und vwhat would be the bet?"

"The loser drops out of the IWBF."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both men nodded as they worked on her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's because it vwas."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

Erika turned over the note.

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

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

"I can't leave," she stated.

"Why not?" Sharon asked.

"I have one more fight."

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

"Vworld peace," Erika stated simply.

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

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

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

Fight me traitor. - Natasha Chutesov


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


The challenge from Moscow was simple and straightforward:

Fight me traitor. - Natasha Chutesov

As was the response from London:

Yes. - Erika Moore

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



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

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

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

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

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

Erika pointed to her cheek. Jack gently kissed her.

"Und here."

Jack kissed her where she indicated on the lips.

"Und here," Erika smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

"Me? What did I do?"

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

"Well..."

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

"Well I..."

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

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

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

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

"What happened to you."

"Erika's dogs."

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

"So what's the plan?"

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Keep watching," Bob said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh," Sharon said, looking worried.

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

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



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

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

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

"Ticket? Are we going someplace?"

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

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

"Not vwhere we are going."

"And that is?"

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No Erika, don't!"

Erika lowered her fist a bit and examined the man.

"Karl?"

"Is that anyway to treat your old coach?"

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

"Sorry Erika, I was just testing you."

"And?"

"I think I broke my hand."

"Serves you right for hitting a lady."

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

"Two hundred and five actually."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fouled!"

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

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

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

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

"The best."

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

"Natasha Chutesov."

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

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

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

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

"It happened."

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

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

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

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

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

Relieved, Erika managed a smile.

"I still eat like a pig."

Karl slapped her on one of her cannonball delts.

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

"It'll be a long three months."

"I lived in zis room for eight years."

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sure."

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

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

"Shall we start again?" Erika asked.

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

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

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

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

"And here's one for my father."

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

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



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


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


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

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



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

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

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

"What does not kill us makes us stronger."

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

"I never..."

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

"Well..."

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

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

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

Two heavyweights stopped what they were doing and trotted over.

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

Sharon smiled, "With pleasure."

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

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

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

"It wasn't. Please continue."

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

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

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

"Ooooooff!"

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

"Well I'm a believer."

"You are?"

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

"Excuse me?"

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

"And if she wins?"

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

"And if she doesn't show?"

"It could be worse than if she loses."

"Shit, this just gets better and better."

"The location has also been changed."

"What was wrong with the hockey stadium?"

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

"That's a big audience."

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

"What about the American market?"

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

"Anybody I know?"

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

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

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

"Killjoy."

"So how's the training going?"

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



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

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

"Going somewhere?" Sharon asked.

Erika jumped as if she had been shot.

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

"Dressed like that? Bullshit."

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

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

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

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

Erika didn't say a word. She just stripped off her clothes and got
back in bed. Sharon went back to sleep with the satisfaction of
knowing that she could still keep a step or two ahead of her
sister-in-law.

Erika surprised the Doctor and Sharon when she was able to get out
of bed after only three days. Within five days, she was back to her
full time training schedule. In addition to Erika's remarkable
vitality, Sharon had to give Karl much of the credit for his
advanced nutrition program. The man was obviously very knowledgeable
and Sharon respected him a great deal. She permitted Karl to
continue his abdominal treatments, but she made sure that he set
strict time limits and that Erika adhered to them. Between the two
of them, they laid out a program designed to make Erika the best
conditioned fighter on the planet.



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

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

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

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

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

"Und you wonder vwhy you have no cherry?"

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

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



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



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

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

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

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



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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? Are you nuts?"

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

"Ja," Erika said, obviously still disappointed.

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

The man reluctantly climbed back through the ropes.

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

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

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

"He can't hurt me."

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

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

"Oh, you don't think so?"

"No," said Sam.

"Bullshit," said Erika.

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

"No thanks."

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

"Vwhat would be the bet?"

"The loser goes on a date with Klaus."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The guard paled visibly at the threat.

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

"You have ten."



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

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

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

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

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

"I get off at six."

"I'll see you then."

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



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

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

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

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

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



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

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



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

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

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

"And our soldiers?"

"A logical next step."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

"Show me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Impressive. What happened to him?"

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

"Is the drug safe?"

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

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

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

The men shared another knowing chuckle.



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

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

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

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

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

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

Erika held up her skinned knuckles for Sharon to examine.

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

"I always do."

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

"Misses Klaus."
 
"Misses Klaus?"

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



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

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

"Wimps! You punch like little girls."

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure Erika?"

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

"Ava!"

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

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

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

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

"I'd be honored," Ava replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lets watch."

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

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

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

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

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



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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I hope you took it easy on her."

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

"Surely you're exaggerating?"

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

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

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

"What about the rules?"

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

"You just did Tim."



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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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



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

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

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

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

"You will now pay traitor," she said.

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

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

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

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

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

"You just figured zat out?" Erika asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can you take her punches?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I vwill be fine."

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

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

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

"Ja."

"I knew you'd say that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you want to continue?" she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



Two months later:

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

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

"What's that honey?" Bob asked.

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

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

"Not so bad? She doesn't speak any English, the dogs don't even
listen to her, and she eats more than Erika ever did."

"We have to give Erika our full support while she's training for the
Olympics."

"Why? She isn't even competing for our country. Don't get me wrong,
I hope Erika wins the gold, but hasn't she ever heard of a kennel?"

"Give the girl a break. She did make the world safe for democracy.
General Zebrinski can't even show his face in Russia anymore, let
alone get elected as Premier. And those dogs did save your life,
remember?"

"Well why don't we get uber vwoman und her vwonder hunds their own
comic book. You might not know it, but things are going to get even
worse."

"How's that?"

"Erika called my brother John behind my back and set him up with
Ava. He's flying in tomorrow to meet her. Do you have any idea what's
going to happen when John finds out that she can bench more than he
can?"

"He'll probably propose to her on the spot."

"That's not funny."

"How's Jack enjoying Germany?"

"He likes it a lot. Especially that cozy little inn just outside of
Leipzig. I'm sure he's there with Erika right now ruining the
furniture."



Erika checked to see if anybody was inside and then led Jack through
the door into the girl's bathroom. Jack looked around at the cracked
tile walls and the grungy fixtures.

"What's so special in here that you had to show me?" he asked.

"Do you see zat toilet?"

"Ja," he replied, using one of the three German words he knew.

"Vwhen I vwas fifteen, a boy, one of zee members of zee wrestling
team, snuck in here with me und tried to kiss me right here."

Erika pointed to her inviting lips.

"You mean like this?"

Jack leaned over and tried to kiss her.

"Ja, like zat. Und then I did zis."

Erika jumped on top of him with her full two hundred pounds and bent
him over with a head lock. Her husband fell to his knees and flailed
around at the unexpected attack.

"Und zen I jammed his head in zee toilet like zis."

Erika started to bear down on him, driving his head towards the
waiting bowl as he tried to pry her muscular arm from around his
throat.

"Zee boy tried vwhat you are doing. It didn't vwork."

Jack's head was only a foot from the water now. Reaching out, he
grabbed the edges of the seat and started pushing back.

"I'm no boy," he grunted.

Getting his feet under him, he started to stand up. This time he
grasped her wrist with both hands and pried himself loose with a
Herculean effort. Erika whipped around and tried to catch him again,
but he took a quick step backward and raised his hands for a test of
strength.

Erika smiled and laced her fingers around his. They struggled for a
moment, and then Jack started pushing her towards the wall. When her
back was touching, he felt her begin to relax and let him close on
her. When his lips were within an inch of hers, she smiled playfully
and suddenly twisted his wrists backwards, forcing him painfully to
the floor. Gritting his teeth, he muscled his way back up. When he
had finally managed to get level with her, he dug in his heels and
slammed her wrists against the wall. Her arms continued to strain,
but her lips eagerly received his as he leaned in to claim his reward.

"So what happened to the boy?" he asked.

"I felt so bad about vwhat I did to him, I let zee next boy kiss me
vwith only a punch in zee stomach. After zat, all zee boys said I
vwas easy."

"And they were right Erika, you're the easiest woman I ever married."



FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723 

[Chainer★]

Rusty's Bike

Don't knock over Rusty's bike, she doesn't need much of an excuse to beat men up

Jason snapped back to reality with a start as the car behind him honked
it's horn. He had been daydreaming and not paying attention. He had been
reviewing his life as he drove around. He had a comfortable income from
the chain of eight drycleaners he owned. He lived in a highrise
apartment complete with a doorman and a concerige service. He was
driving a new Mercedes. He was bored. He had not had a date with a woman
in months. His so called love life was nonexistent. With his failure
with the ladies he had devoted his interest to food and drink. He had
gained over thirty pounds in the last eighteen months, and it seemed a
large part of it was at his waistline. When the honk broke his reverie
he was amazed to find he had been just driving around for over an hour.
He checked the time, and realized he had driven past his usual dinner
time. He spotted a small tavern in the neighborhood in which he was
driving, and decided to have a burger and a beer. He parked the Mercedes
and entered the tavern. It was fairly crowded, so he took a seat at the
bar. He only meant to have a quick bite to eat and a beer, but he became
engrossed in the ballgame on the tv behind the bar, and before he knew
it he had had eight beers, a cheeseburger, and two bowls of peanuts. His
thoughts drifted back to what he considered his boring life, and he
resolved to try to  add a little adventure to it. He paid his check,
leaving a generous tip for the bartender, and left through a side
entrance which he noticed would be a faster route to the parking lot. As
he entered the short alley that connected the tavern to the parking lot,
he saw a big classic Harley Davidson parked in the alley. It seemed to
bee all leather and polished chrome. "Maybe I need something like this,"
he thought. He started to sit on the seat when a voice behind him said
in an authoritative but definitely feminine tone, "Get away from my
bike, asshole."

Jason turned to see who was speaking. He had to blink to make sure his
eyes were not deceiving him. Just visible in the security light the
owner of the tavern had installed in the alley was one of the most
beautiful women he had ever seen. Her long red hair was held back by a
blue bandanna. her face had an aquiline nose with just a sprinkle of
freckles across the bridge of it. Her high cheekbones set off her
electric blue eyes. She had the fair skin color that most light-haired
people have. She was wearing a denim jacket over what appeared to be a
cut-off tee shirt. Her jeans were so tight the could have been painted
on. A pair of motorcycle boots were on her feet. Jason was captivated.
"I,uh, I'm sorry. I was just admiring it." Jason stuttered. "Try
admiring it from a distance," the redhead replied.  "Again, I'm sorry.
As a form of apology why don't you let me buy you a drink." Jason said.
The redhead laughed. " I wouldn't be seen in public with a fat slob like
you." Then she turned into the tavern. Jason was angry. She didn't have
to have a drink with him, but she didn't have to be such a bitch. He saw
a nameplate on the Harley that said "Rusty Walters" Jason said, "Well
Rusty Walters, this is what I think of your attitude." With that he
kicked the Harley sending it crashing over in the alley. If he had known
who Rusty Walters was not only would he not have done that, but he would
have run for his car and left the area as soon as she had spoken to him.

To those who knew about her Rusty was famous or infamous. Her parents
had been killed in an airplane crash when she was four years old. She
had bounced from one foster home to another since she had no other
relatives. Her parents insurance policy had left her with enough money
for the rest of her life, but she couldn't get access to it until she
was eighteen years of age. She was a very bright girl, but showed no
interest in school. She became more and more rebellious as she grew
older. The one thing she found that she loved to do was fight. She was
always getting in fights in school. She was fearless and vicious, and
even the older boys became afraid of her. As soon as she was old enough,
she quit school and ran away from her last foster home. She got jobs
where she could get by on her startling good looks, but her temper
usually lead to her thrashing either a customer or fellow employee and
therefore getting fired. She hooked up with the Bandits, the toughest
gang of bikers in the area. She established herself as someone not to be
trifled with immediately. The leader's girlfriend tried to order Rusty
around. They had a two punch fight. When Rusty told the girlfriend to
fuck off the girlfriend punched Rusty in the stomach. Rusty took the
punch, shook it off, then knocked the girl out with one punch. The
leader then decided to avenge his woman and Rusty beat him into a
battered, bleeding lump. After that everyone pretty much left her alone.
When they took a close look at Rusty, they could see why she was such a
powerful fighter. She had a muscular, powerful body with wide shoulders,
big arms, and a narrow rippled waist. Her legs bulged with muscle. All
of this was without ever lifting a weight. It was genetic. Rusty wanted
to maintain her body, so she instituted an exercise routine consisting
of 150 situps, 100 pushups, and 50 chinups daily. She became the gang's
warlord. After three years she tired of being in the Bandits and one day
just got on her Harley and left. Rumor had it that she was now working
as an enforcer for the area's largest loan shark. This enabled her to do
the two things she wanted to do, supplement her income, and administer
severe beatings to unfortunates who missed their payments. Had Jason
known any of this he would have run away quickly, instead of kicking
over her Harley.

Rusty heard the crash in the alley, and quickly stepped back outside.
When she saw Jason standing over the tipped over Harley, Instead of
going into a rage, she seemed to get even calmer. Jason failed to see
the menacing quality of her seemingly calm exterior. And shouted at her,
"You should not have talked to me like that, you bitch."  That was
totally out of character for him and he really surprised himself with
the way he was acting. Maybe it was his new thirst for adventure that
prodded him on. After all, this was just a pretty woman. "I'm going to
have to teach how to treat a lady, fat boy", Rusty replied. She walked
over to the Harley and lovingly lifted it back onto the stand. Then she
removed her denim jacket and carefully folded it and placed it on the
Harley seat. Suddenly Jason realized that real trouble was on the way.
"I'm sorry I knocked over your bike, but you had no right to insult me
like that. I'll give you my phone number. Repair any damages and I will
pay for it. "You're going to pay for it, alright," Rusty said in a very
quiet voice, "But it will not be with money. I'm going to take payment
in blood." Jason took a good look at the strong, muscular body of the
pretty redhead, and felt fear for the first time. "This is silly," he
said. "I'm leaving now. call me with the cost of the repair." He turned
and started for the parking lot. He felt her hand on his shoulder. He
stopped and turned around. "I said I'm leav uunnhh".

He was interrupted in mid-sentence by Rusty's big fist burrowing into
his stomach. Air rushed from his lungs and his eyes bugged open. Rusty
drove another fist to the same spot. Jason had never been hurt that bad
in his life. It felt like a knife had been stabbed into his gut. Rusty
caught him to keep Jason on his feet. She took his right arm and draped
it over her left shoulder. She then reached over it with her left arm
and put her left hand on the back of his neck effectively trapping his
right arm on her shoulder. With Jason pinned like that, he was unable to
get away and could not fall to the ground. Rusty pulled back that
battering ram right fist and drilled it into his stomach again. She
looked into Jason's eyes and saw the pain reflected there. Again, that
mighty fist sank into his stomach. Jason looked like he wanted to throw
up. The door of the tavern opened and two couples exited into the alley.
What they saw looked like a lover's embrace. Seeing them out of the
corner of her eye, Rusty planted a hard kiss on Jason's mouth. She held
it while the couples moved past them to the parking lot. "It looks like
they are certainly having a great time" one of the women remarked as the
walked by. "They will be ready for a bed soon at that rate" added one of
the men, and they all four laughed.

After they were gone, Rusty broke the kiss. "They were partially right."
she whispered in Jason's ear. "You will be ready for a bed, but it will
be a hospital bed. Are you ready to resume?" With that she fired three
more bombs into Jason's already hurting belly. She then released her
hold and let him slump to the ground. He lay there and vomited up all of
the beer and food he had consumed in the tavern. Rusty dragged Jason to
his feet and backed him to the wall of the alley. She took both of his
arms and placed them over her shoulders. He was held up and supported by
his arms around her shoulders and his back pressed against the brick
wall. Rusty leaned forward and whispered in his ear again. "I really get
off on this. Especially when I can find a pigeon like you with a big,
soft, belly. Watching my fists sink in it and disappear turns me on. We
are going to have a contest, will I cum before you pass out. Are you
ready to start?" Rusty brought her left fist up from below her knees in
a vicious uppercut. Indeed it did seen to disappear deep in Jason's
stomach. His feet were lifted off the ground. When he returned to the
ground, she duplicated the same punch with her right fist. Once more his
feet raised up off the ground. Jason could not believe the pain he was
feeling. His body was one huge mass of pain. Still the redhead's brutal
fists smashed into his vulnerable belly. His weak abdominal muscles had
offered little resistance in the beginning, now those hard fists seem to
go all the way to his spine without resistance. The shock overloaded his
system. As her fist violated his belly for the eleventh time, he lost
consciousness.

One more ripping uppercut, and Rusty's orgasm exploded. Just then the
tavern door opened again. She had already let Jason's unfeeling form
slid to his knees. Rusty quickly dropped to her knees also, and as
before planted a kiss on his lips. The man and woman leaving the tavern,
saw only the two of them kneeling, locked in what seemed to be a very
passionate kiss. "At they could have waited till they got to their car."
said the woman. When they had gone, Rusty let Jason slide to the ground.
She sat patiently by his body waiting for him to awaken. After several
more minutes Jason began to stir. Blood had seeped from his mouth during
his belly-battering and had run down his chin. He felt that and then the
pain brought him fully awake. He thought he was alone for a split
second. Then he head that chilling voice of his tormentor. "Welcome back
to the land of the living. How are you feeling? Did the poor little girl
hurt the big bad man?"  Wh-Why did you do this to me?" Jason mumbled.
"Two reasons" she replied "You damaged my baby, and mostly just because
I wanted to. The bad news for you, is that I am not through. Now it's
time for your facial." Stark terror clutched Jason's heart. "Please
don't beat me anymore, I'll do anything you say, just don't hit me. I
hurt so bad"

"I'm about to cum again just listening to you beg. You should have
thought about the consequences before you started this by trashing my
bike." With that she took hold of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.
Rusty propped him up against the wall. She placed her fist lightly on
his nose. "Time for another game" she said. "Where to start." With her
fist still pressing his nose she said "Eeny". Her fist slid to rest just
under his eye. "Meeny" she said. Her fist then gently touched his lips.
"Mieny" Then the fist slid to touch the point of his chin. "Moe". Jason
was afraid his heart would stop he was so terrified. "Moe it is" Rusty
informed him. Jason started pleading again. He was cut off in mid-
sentence by a thundering punch crashing right on that point of his chin
that Rusty had called Moe just seconds earlier. Jason's head jerked back
from the impact. He would have fallen again had Rusty not grabbed his
shirt and held him up. "Where to go next" Rusty said.

"At the beginning. Eeny it is. Her iron hard fist smashed his nose,.and
blood spurted all the way on to her tee shirt. Jason once more would
have fallen, had Rusty not been holding him up. Rusty the sarcastically
asked Jason, "Where do you think we should go next?" As he started to
say something, Rusty drove her fist straight in to his mouth. She felt
some of his upper front teeth cave in as her big, hard knuckles blasted
through his lips. "God, I love this" Rusty could feel another orgasm
starting to build. Next she hammered short, hooking punches to Jason's
eyes. Both would have beautiful shiners for several days. Jason was
hurting so bad he was almost beyond feeling. Rusty blasted his mouth
with another straight, powerful blast. More teeth cracked. Several were
just hanging by threads of tissue from his mouth. All at once she
stopped the terrible beating. "Where is your car?" she demanded. Through
the bloody stumps of his broken teeth, Jason managed to mumble "Third
row. Blue Mercedes." Rusty reached in his pocket and got his keys. She
lifted the 220 pound man in her muscle bulging arms like he was nothing
and carried him to his car. She placed him on his feet and he leaned
back on the car.

Rusty put her lips right next to his ear and whispered. "If you say
anything to the cops about me, I will beat you ever worse than this, and
remember I have your phone number." She turned away from the pain racked
man. Suddenly Rusty turned back and buried her fist into his yielding
belly almost up to the elbow. Jason was paralyzed with shock and pain.
Another blast lifted him off his feet and draped him over the hood of
the car. "I have to knock you out, you know. Just try to take it like a
man." Jason did not answer immediately. Rusty buried another brutal
blast in his battered gut. He had internal injuries for sure, from the
way her sledgehammer fist sank all the way in. Jason even in his
delirious state, knew he could not take any more punishment there. Jason
was blubbering and incoherently pleading for her to please stop. Rusty
set him on his feet one more time. Holding him up with her left hand,
she cocked her rock hard right fist for her last punch.

"The hell with it." she snarled and whipped that terrible instrument of
destruction around one more time. She pounded it one last time deep into
that severely damaged stomach. Her big biceps expanded to unreal size
with the effort. He was lifted high in the air as blood flew from his
mouth. Jason's nervous system short-circuited. He collapsed to the
ground beside his car, his legs going into spasms as all systems shut
down. Rusty looked down at him, then looked at those pain dealing clubs
that were her fists with his blood still dripping from both of them. She
then got on her Harley and rode away into the night. The next day she
saw an article in the newspaper that caught her eye. "Prominent
Businessman Mugged and Beaten Almost to Death" read the lead article in
the local section. "Jason Eldrege was found unconscious in the parking
lot of a local tavern last night. Several patrons reported seeing him
hugging and kissing with an attractive red haired woman in the alley
leading to the parking lot earlier in the evening." "Mr. Eldrege
required extensive surgery for internal injuries and reconstructive
surgery on his face as well."" Mr. Eldrege managed to tell police
officers he was attacked by three men wearing ski masks and beaten.
After a long recuperative period he is expected to make a full
recovery." "The identity and whereabouts of the attractive red haired
woman remain unknown."

[Chainer★]

Rusty's Collection Service

Businessman is destroyed by sexy loan collector.

My name is Jack, Jack Richardson. I've been in the hospital now for 5
days and I'm going to be here for quite a while longer. Yesterday the
doctors switched my pain medication from morphine to Percodan. They
were too afraid of the addiction potential to leave me on morphine.
The Percodan doesn't relieve the pain, just makes it a little more
bearable. I would have never believed that one person could feel so
much pain. But when a neighbor found me, unconscious on the floor of
my house. I had severe internal injuries including a ruptured spleen,
broken facial bones, a broken nose, several missing teeth, and two
broken ribs.

The police officers who were assigned to investigate also came to see
me yesterday. They asked me what had happened. I told them that two
men had attacked me just as I unlocked my front door, and beaten me
with baseball bats and robbed me. I had not gotten a good look at them
as the officers could tell from my condition, so I could only give
vague descriptions of the attackers. The police left, having accepted
my story. As I drifted off again, I prayed that they never found out
what had really happened. That is the story they would not have
believed. That a woman, a beautiful one at that, could have done all
of this damage using only her fists. But they were not just fists.
They were big, hard instruments of destruction, powered by huge, hard
muscles. She was Rusty Walters. Beautiful, sexy, vicious Rusty. I lay
there in fear that if they found out she would do as she had
threatened and come back to finish the job.

It all started when I needed money to make a payment to keep the bank
from foreclosing on my business. I own a restaurant supply company. I
needed ten thousand dollars to make the payment. I had twenty thousand
due the next week from one of my biggest customers, but the bank would
not give me an extension. I had already gotten several extensions from
them in the past, but this time the bank officer was adamant, make the
payment on time or they would close me down. That is when I made the
biggest mistake of my life. Since the twenty thousand was coming in
shortly, I borrowed the ten thousand from Vince Castellano.

Vince could be best described as the biggest loan shark in the area,
but he didn't operate the way you would envision a loan shark to do
business. He had a plush suite of offices in a downtown office
building, complete with secretary. He told me the money was due in two
weeks with fifteen percent interest. The interest went up every day
afterwards that the money was late. "You aren't going to be late with
this are you Jack?" he asked me as he gave me the money. I assured him
that I would not. 15% is a lot of interest, but it was the only way I
could keep the business going. I made the payment to the bank on time,
and thought everything would be fine. The next week I got a telephone
call that turned everything upside down. The account that owed me the
twenty thousand was filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection, and
would not be making any payments to creditors until they had
reorganized. I would get my money but it would be several months. I
immediately called Jake. He said no problem, take an extra couple of
weeks. After that he would expect to be paid. The two weeks passed and I
had not been able to raise the money. Jake expressed his displeasure,
but told me to get it as soon as I could. He was not used to being
kept waiting. A month went by, and I still had not been able to pay
him. He had not contacted me for a while demanding payment so I
thought he had decided he would just have to wait until I could make
payment. Then I met Rusty.

I now know that she was orphaned, and raised in a series of foster
homes. She had a history of violence even as a child. She had been a
member of a biker gang until about a year ago, and was the most feared
fighter in the gang man or woman. Now she works for Vince. I would
never have thought that she was his enforcer. Now I would after what
she did to me, but certainly not when I saw her for the first time.

I was sitting at the bar in a place where I hang out a lot. When she
walked in all heads turned. The first thing I noticed was her red hair
and her movie star looks. She was tall and gorgeous. The sprinkle of
freckles across the bridge of her nose was sexy. She was wearing jeans
and a denim jacket over a tee shirt. The blue of the jacket picked up
the blue of her eyes. It wasn't until she was standing at the bar that
I realized how big she was. Not fat, just a big, sexy beautiful woman.
Unfortunately, I thought at the time, I had to leave about the time
she got there. She smiled at me and I almost fell off the barstool. I
really hoped that she would be there the next night. I wore a good
suit to work, and couldn't wait for the day to end. Sure enough, about
eight o'clock she came walking in. She was dressed very similarly to
the way she had dressed the night before.

She sat down next to me and said, "Would you buy a girl a drink,
honey?" Even though I had rehearsed this all day I still stumbled over
the words. She proved easy to talk to, and after about three drinks,
she leaned over and gave me a long, lingering kiss. "I like you,
cutie. Do you have somewhere we can go that is a little more private?"
she whispered in my ear.

"MMMMMy PPPPlace," I managed to get out. "Give me your address, I'll
meet you there," she said. I wrote my address down on a cocktail
napkin and gave it to her. "I'll see you there in half an hour," she
half whispered in her throaty voice. I rushed to my car and raced
home. I found a good bottle of red wine, and put music on the stereo.
There was a knock on the door. She was right on time. When I opened
the door, she greeted me with another long kiss, this time her tongue
forced its way into my mouth, and her hand, reached down and lightly
caressed by rapidly growing penis.

"Let's not rush things," she said. "We have all night. You don't have
anything else to do tonight, do you? Is anyone expecting you?" At the
time I didn't understand the significance of her questions but I
answered no to them anxiously. "You get us something to drink, and
I'll get comfortable." I went to the kitchen to pour the wine. When I
returned to the living room, She had removed her denim jacket. When I
saw her body I was amazed at how muscular it was. "Do women with
muscles turn you off?" she asked with a smile on her face. "I think
they make us more sexy." With that she playfully flexed her right
bicep. A softball sized hump of muscle sprang to life. "Feel it," she
almost commanded. I did and it was not only huge, it was hard as iron.
"I guess it is not a turn off for you after all," she commented
looking at my crotch where my erection had started to grow from her
first flex. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip. "Why don't we
go to the bedroom and have some fun."

Thinking back, I should have known that there had to be something
wrong. Women like Rusty just don't pick up men like me. I was probably
fifteen years older than her, the same height, but overweight and out
of shape. At that time my dick was thinking for me, so I didn't see
the reality.

In the bedroom she slowly removed her clothes. I just sat and marveled
at her. That exquisite face topped a mind-blowing body. Her breasts
were not excessively large, but stuck out from her muscled chest. Her
shoulders were melons of muscle. I could see every single indentation
in the musculature of her waist. Her legs were large but beautifully
formed. Muscles leaped from her thighs when she moved. She was one of
those few women whose bodies actually looked better without clothes.
She then started to undress me, all the while nibbling on my ears. I
almost came early when she stuck her tongue in my ear. Finally we were
both naked. I started to roll her over on her back when she growled "I
want to be on top. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride."
She then inserted my throbbing penis into her moist channel. She
started to move.

Slowly she increased the speed on her movement. Her vaginal muscles
clutched my penis like a glove. I had never experienced such
sensations in my life. I had to fight to hold on until she yelled
"NOW!" Then I had the most explosive organism I had ever experienced,
as we both erupted at the same time. "I hope you enjoyed that" Rusty
said  as we lay there on the bed. We were both exhausted, or so I
thought.

She got up and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she said "Go
in there and clean yourself up. I have something else in mind for the
rest of the night" I rushed in to do exactly that. When I came out  I
sat on the edge of the bed. I saw that she had gone to the kitchen and
gotten the wine bottle, but only one glass. "I promise you that you
won't need this, but I will. Here, put your tee shirt on," she tossed
the shirt to me. "Let's go in the living room. We need a lot more room
for what is coming next." While she was saying this she had been
pulling me off the bed and took my hand in hers and led me toward the
living room. As we walked I wondered what the hell she was talking
about. However after what I had just experienced I would follow her
anywhere. I was also again surprised by her beauty and size. Her hand
was larger than mine, Her shoulders, legs and especially her arms were
larger. She had large hard slabs of muscle everywhere.  I was even
about an inch shorter than her.

Then we reached the living room. I noticed that when she had gone to
get the wine bottle, she had also moved some of the furniture. It was
all pushed to one side against a wall. I asked her why she had done
that. "We need a lot of room for what we are going to do next, and
besides I don't want to get blood all over your nice furniture." she
replied. Now I was really puzzled by what she was getting at but
excited at the same time. My dick began to get hard and swell at the
thought of having her again on the living room floor She glided over
to a bookcase and moved two crystal vases. "We can't have anything
happening to these." She placed them in the kitchen.

That big, hard body moved back to where I was standing. "It's time for
the next phase in our relationship. Are you ready to begin?" A smile
was playing across her face. She was standing there facing me in the
middle of the room. Rusty was still stark naked, and I was wearing
just the tee shirt that she had insisted that I put on. Thinking about
the incredible bedroom action, I enthusiastically said "Yes." 

She looked deep into my eyes and said "There are a few things I need
to tell you before we start. I want you to listen closely so you will
understand exactly what is happening. What you just received  was what
I call a mercy fuck. That means I feel sorry for you because when I am
finished with you tonight you won't be able to do that again for a
long, long time. As you can tell I really like to have sex. However,
do you know what I like to do even more than I like to fuck? You would
never guess. I like to fight." I thought I misunderstood her. I
started to ask her "You said you like to do what?"

"Here let me show you instead" she purred in her sexiest voice.

Suddenly I was paralyzed with pain. As she had finished talking she
buried her big right fist deep in my stomach. I never saw or
anticipated the punch. Now I couldn't do anything as all the air was
expelled from my lungs. I doubled over and wanted to lie down. "Vince
is very unhappy with you," she said. The pain was starting to subside
some as she pushed me erect, "he wants his money now!" I was slowly
recovering. "You alright? " she said in a concerned voice.

"YYYes, I managed to squeak out." 

"Good! That means you are ready to continue. I wouldn't want you to
pass out this soon," she said, "that would take all of my fun away."
With that she powered that hard fist viciously into my belly again.
This time I felt like it had gone all the way through me. I was bug
eyed and my feet lifted in to the air from the power of that blow. She
didn't let me collapse to the floor like I wanted to. She caught me
with both arms in my armpits as I fell on her chest. "I told you I
like to fight even more than I like to fuck. And I like beating soft
little wimps like you to a pulp even better. Tonight I get to do two
out of three of my favorite things. I am going to hurt you like you
never imagined possible. You are going to beg me to stop beating you
but I won't. You will have nightmares about me and my fists and what I
am going to do to you for the rest of your life."

She had straightened me up again while she was talking. The pain in my
gut was debilitating, but I was not going to let her get away with
this without trying to defend myself. I threw a punch at her face. It
landed on her strong jaw and snapped her head around to the side. She
just smiled at me and licked at the small trickle of blood that was
running out of the side of her mouth with her tongue. "I like it when
you try to fight back." I fired another punch at her head. She blocked
it with her left arm then she wound up and for a third time ripped
that brutal fist plunging it far into my soft gut. Indescribable pain
gripped me. This time she let me slide to the floor. I thought I would
pass out. I was gagging and fighting for breath. I curled up in a ball
with my hands clawing at my stomach trying to relieve the terrible
pain.

She calmly walked across the room and poured herself another glass of
wine. "Cabernet is one of my favorites, thank you very much for being
so thoughtful" she said as she took a sip. She put down the glass and
slowly approached me. Her magnificent, muscular body now looked much
more menacing than it had earlier in bed. Her hand locked in my hair
and jerked me to my feet in one motion. I was paralyzed with fear. Her
left fist crashed into my ribs. I felt like I had been hit with a
baseball bat. I stumbled four or five feet to my left. She caught up
to me. She put her hand on my ribs. "Nothing broken yet" she said. She
drilled another punch to exactly the same place. I could feel the ribs
start to go. As I tilted to my right favoring the injured ribs she
blasted another powerhouse right wrist deep in the center of my belly.
I couldn't take anymore as I started  to pass out she ripped that ball
bat of a left fist to my ribcage. I thought I was beyond feeling, but
a new wave of nausea and pain hit and the ribs definitely broke. I
don't remember even hitting the floor. I don't know how long I was
out, but as I slowly woke up waves of nausea struck again. Rusty was
sitting on the sofa sipping the wine.

"I'm glad you didn't pay Vince. If you had I wouldn't get the chance
to do this." She reached down with both hands and grasped my tee shirt
to pull me to my feet. "This is why I wanted you to put on the shirt.
I needed something to hold on to."  As she had predicted, I started to
beg for her not to beat me any more. She just smiled at me again.
Rusty seemed to smile a lot. Her sledgehammer right fist penetrated
deep into my tortured stomach again. This time as I started to fold
around that impaling fist. Her left smashed into my nose. As I started
to fall to the carpet, she caught me. Then she wrapped her left hand
in my shirt. Her right slammed directly into my mouth. I felt some
teeth loosen, and my upper lip was split open. I was crying now. I
hurt so bad I could not even beg any more. She crashed her big fist to
my nose again and this time blood started pouring out. Her right fist
came from way back behind her and smashed into my mouth again. I could
feel my teeth buckle under her iron hard knuckles. Then she crushed my
nose one more time with a vicious overhand right and when it hit the
sound of the snapping cartilage filled my ears.

All that kept me from being on the floor again was her strong hand
wrapped in my shirt. Her bicep bulged obscenely as it totally
supported all of my weight. She held that big fist up in front of my
eyes and said. "I hope you are ready for more because here it comes."
She drew back that fist and sent it blasting to my face, just below my
eye. I could feel the cheekbone disintegrate from that bone-crunching
blast.  I was in pure agony. White hot shards of pain shot through my
face from the shattered cheekbone. The human body has a great
tolerance for pain but when it reaches its limit as a defense
mechanism everything goes numb and you can't feel the pain any more. I
reached that state just before I passed out again. Rusty realized I
was quickly becoming  unconscious so she held back the fist she was
about to deliver to my smashed in face and dropped me to the floor.

I woke up with water splashing in my face. She said that she had been
enjoying my taste in wine while she waited for me to wake up again,
and that she had noticed that almost thirty minutes had gone by and I
still had not moved. She had gone to the kitchen, got a pitcher of
water and dumped it in my face. I started sputtering as I came around.
The water had flushed a pool of blood off my face onto the carpet. My
tee shirt was covered with blood. It was running from my mouth and my
nose like fountains. I tried to crawl away from this destructive,
frightening amazon, but I could barely move. She pulled me to my feet
and put her lips right against my ear.

"Nod your head if you can hear me." she whispered. Through the
suffering I forced my head to move slightly up and down. "Good. Now
listen. You have two weeks after you get out of the hospital to pay
Vince in full. If you don't I will have to pay you another visit. If
you tell anyone who did this to you I will come back and finish the
job. Do you understand? Nod if you do."

Again I managed to get my aching head to move. "I'm glad we understand
each other" she said.

"Now I need you for something else." she said. She released me and I
fell to the floor. "I need to use your face. Punching out weaklings
like you always makes me hot." I looked up and saw her dripping wet
pussy descending on my face. I gagged as she covered my battered mouth
and nose and started to ride me. As her climax neared her gyrations
got wilder and wilder. I wasn't sure I was going to live through it as
her intense orgasm hit. When she had finished Rusty got up and poured
herself another glass of wine. I continued to lay there moaning,
almost unconscious again. She finished the wine and helped me to my
feet. "Do you remember everything I said?" she asked. I nodded my head
hopeful that this meant the ordeal was over. She went into the bedroom
to get her clothes. She brought them back into the living room and
placed them on the sofa. She then put the furniture back in its
original position.  While she was doing all this, I was fighting the
pain and the nausea and trying to keep from passing out again. She
started to dress, then she paused like she was thinking about
something. She walked back over to me. "Can you use the phone?" she
asked.

"I-I-I think so," I stuttered through the misery I was in. I barely
could mumble an answer through my ballooned lips and broken teeth. "I
was afraid of that," Rusty said. Before I could comprehend what she
had said, she drove that brutal right fist viciously into my severely
damaged midsection again. Blood and bile sprayed out of my mouth. her
left crashed straight into my open mouth and more of my teeth totally
gave way to that hammer of a fist.

"I love this so much I never want to stop, I could go on all night,"
she was actually smiling again. To punctuate her comments that
punishing fist disappeared deep into my stomach I thought I could
feel it smashing my internal organs. I went numb all over again. The
last thing I remember seeing was her loading up that huge right fist
one more time. It landed with a pulverizing smash on my jaw. I felt
something give as that missile exploded on target, then I felt
nothing. I woke up here in the hospital with doctors buzzing all
around. The fear that Rusty might come back made me give that story to
the police.

The nurse came into my room. She was not one of the usual nurses that
had been taking care of me but there was something familiar about her.
Then I saw the red hair under the nurses cap. My heart froze in
terror. "Hello, Jack. I just wanted to see how you were feeling. I
always like to check up on my clients." Rusty walked over to the bed
dressed in a nurses uniform. It had short sleeves, and she slowly
pushed them up to expose her mountainous biceps. She balled her big
right hand into a hard fist and held it right under what was left of
my nose. (I was scheduled for extensive reconstructive surgery on my
face.) "I know you remember this," she said and smiled at me. "Don't
make me have to use it on you again, because I really want to. I
almost cum just thinking about it. Keep what really happened just
between us and you won't have to feel it tearing you to shreds again.
Actually I think I took it easy on you because I like you. I'll be
seeing you. Take care."

With that she pulled her fist back, flexed her biceps, smiled at me
again, pushed down her sleeves, and left. I realized that I had almost
stopped breathing I was so scared during her visit. I knew what I was
going to do the day I got out of the hospital. I was going to pay
Vince every penny I owed him even if I had to sell my business, my
house, or everything else that I owned. I would do anything to keep
Rusty from carrying out her promise to pay me a return visit. Then I
saw the local newspaper. I'm sure she must have laughed when she saw
this story in the local section of the paper.

"Local businessman attacked in his own home. Jack Richardson, owner of
Richardson Supply Co. was found unconscious in his home. He was
finally able to tell police investigators that he was attacked by two
men who jumped him as he unlocked the front door to his house and beat
him with baseball bats. The doctors said he suffered numerous internal
injuries including a ruptured spleen, and many facial bones were
broken, and teeth knocked out. These injuries were consistent with
being beaten with baseball bats. Mr. Richardson underwent emergency
surgery for the internal injuries and is scheduled for extensive
reconstructive surgery on his face as soon as he is strong enough.  He
could give no reason for the attack. There is one possible witness,
but so far the investigating officers have not been able to locate
her. Mr. Richardson was seen with leaving a local restaurant with a
very attractive red haired woman a few hours before the attack. The
police hope if they can find this woman she might be able to shed some
light on what happened. They are hopeful that she will see this
article and come forward."

[Chainer★]

The New Apartment

Rusty falls in love, but has to protect her man

Rusty Walters paced in front of the entrance to the luxury apartment
building. She was dressed in an unusual fashion for her. She was wearing a
very conservative blue dress. It was tight in the middle showing off her
slim waist, but basically covered up everything else. Her red hair was up
in a bun. She wore very flattering makeup, but it did not hide the
smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.  She looked like many
of the young upwardly mobile business people who lived in the building. For
the first time in her life Rusty was nervous. She wanted to move into this
apartment building, and she was actually afraid that she would be turned
down. She had listed her occupation on the application as financial
consultant. She was actually an enforcer for Vince Castellano's loan
sharking business. Vince made sure all the references she had listed
checked out. Rusty could easily afford to live there. She had money from a
trust fund her parents had left her and Vince paid her very well. Since she
had started working for him collections were never late. Word had gotten
around very quickly about the beautiful redhead with the lethal fists who
would visit any delinquent payers. Rusty had put two men in the hospital
and now nobody came close to missing a payment. She now had very little to
do, but Vince was happy so he continued to pay her very well. Rusty took a
deep breath, squared her shoulders and entered the building.

She had an interview with the manager for the holding company that ran the
building and the on site manager as well. The two men immediately perked up
as the gorgeous woman entered the office. Soon Rusty, who could be as
charming as she could be violent when she wanted to, had the two men eating
out of the palm of her hand. The interview went perfectly. When Rusty left
forty five minutes later she had signed a lease to move in to a beautiful
two bedroom apartment on the tenth floor, with a terrific view of the park
from her terrace, and bedroom window. She would move in one month. She
would have a lot to do in that time. She owned no furniture, she had been
living in a cheap motel room for the last several months, and her wardrobe
which consisted mostly of jeans, tee shirts and denim jackets needed to be
upgraded. Money and creature comforts had never been important to her,  but
one of her victims had lived in a similar type building, and she was tired
of living in one room and out of a suitcase. She hired a decorator to
furnish the apartment, and was pleasantly surprised when she was informed
that all her furniture would be delivered on time. Rusty had only one job
for Vince while she was getting ready to move. A small time hustler had
missed two payments, so Rusty got the call.
She was happy to have the action. She was getting dressed for her mission
in her motel room. Rusty was standing naked in front of the mirror as she
laid out her clothes on the bed. She was tall, five feet ten inches to be
exact. She weighed one hundred and sixty eight pounds. With her movie star
good looks no one noticed how muscular she was because she usually wore
clothing that hid her powerful physique until she wanted to show it off..
Rusty was genetically blessed and had a rigorous exercise program. Recently
she had finally added weights to her workout and her muscles had grown even
bigger and harder. She had wide powerful shoulders that tapered
dramatically to a thin, hard waist. If she had measured her biceps they
would have stretched the tape to almost nineteen inches. Her thighs would
measure twenty eight inches, but that small waist was still only twenty
five inches around. She was a fantastic package of beauty, sexuality, and
power. The reason she had always held jobs like her current one with Vince
was that the darker side of personality seemed to be the dominant side. She
took great pleasure in destroying men with her powerful body and fists,
therefore she was a perfect match in her current job as Vince's enforcer.
Her victims were always fooled by her looks, with that red hair, and just a
slight sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose, high cheekbones,
and electric blue eyes.

How could anyone who looked like that, be so vicious. Rusty donned her
"work" clothes, a pair of tight jeans, a sleeveless tee shirt and a denim
jacket. A blue bandanna was used as a headband to hold her long red hair in
place. Motorcycle boots completed her outfit. Normally she spent a lot of
time setting up her confrontation to make sure that it was not witnessed by
anybody, because the delinquent payer were generally legitimate
businessmen. In this case, the hustler, Ron Allen she did not need to take
such precautions. She mounted her Harley Davidson, and rode to Ron's
office. It was a small office suite with only a reception area and one
office. As Rusty strode through the door, Ran's bodyguard was sitting in
the reception area. Rusty walked right by him in the direction of the
office. "Hey, wait a minute, you can't go in there!" The thug shouted to
Rusty. She stopped and turned to face him. "I have to see Ron on business,"
she said. The man's right hand moved toward the pistol in his shoulder
holster. "I said you can't go in there. Now get out of here before you get
something you don't want." As his hand moved closer to the .357 Magnum in
the holster, Rusty's steel toed right boot whipped up and crashed into his
knee. As his leg gave way, she took the hand reaching for the gun and
pulled it away with both hands. There was a crack as she broke his wrist.
Then she slammed her big right fist into his chin. The man would have
fallen but Rusty caught him. She thought he was out cold, but she blasted
one more powerful punch to his jaw just to make sure. His head whirled
around and he would have fallen again if not for Rusty holding him up. She
hauled his unconscious body to the chair he had been sitting in when she
came in and propped him up in it. All of this had taken less than one
minute. "It's probably just as well that this happened now." Rusty thought.
"I would have had to deal with him sooner or later, so now he is out of the
way. He should be out for quite a while."  Ron's door was closed, so he had
not heard any of the scuffle in the reception area. Rusty opened the door
and entered the office.

Ron had a surprised look on his face as he saw the big redhead standing in
front of his desk. "How did you get in here? Where's Marv?" he asked. "If
Marv is the big guy out there he is taking a nap. He won't disturb us. Do
you know what I'm here for?" Rusty said to Ron. "You must be the girl who
works for Vince. I've heard about you." Ron was starting to shake just a
little. "Then you know I want Vince's money. If you give it to me, I'll be
on my way. If you don't have it, we have a real problem." Rusty moved
closer to the desk and stared right into Ron's eyes. "I, I er I have it all
right over here in the safe." Ron said. "If you pull one of those guns you
have in either the desk or the safe, I'll make you eat it.", Rusty warned
him. When Ron went to the safe in the wall behind the desk, Rusty removed
her jacket, folded it carefully and placed it on the desk. Ron gasped in
amazement when he saw her as she stood there, muscles rippling with a big
smile on her face.  "I-It is all here," Ron said. "There's even a little
something for you". He placed an extra two thousand dollars on the desk.
"You saved yourself a lot of pain by having the money ready for me." Rusty
told him. She counted it and he was right, it was all there. She picked up
the money and put it in a bag. Still smiling she moved over close to Ron.
She put her arm around his shoulder. "As I said, you saved yourself a lot
of pain." Rusty told him again. Then she ripped her right fist deep into
his unprepared belly. Ron's eyes got big as saucers and he fought to get
his breath. Twice more Rusty buried that hard fist deep in his stomach. Ron
collapsed to the floor.

"However, you were late and I had to come over here to get this money, so
you don't get off scot-free, just less pain than you would have had if you
had not paid up." Rusty pulled him to his feet. Her left fist smashed into
his nose. It started to bleed. Again her fist slammed into his nose mashing
it flat as blood began to pour down his face. Now she held him up with her
left hand and her right fist crashed hard against the flesh surrounding his
left eye. It would be swollen shut in a few minutes. "Let's see, a broken
nose and a black eye. That sounds about right for what you've done. Your
are lucky I have something very important to do today, or this might have
been much worse.". Rusty was lifting Ron back to his feet while speaking to
him. Her strong left fist blasted his jaw, and Ron slumped to the floor,
out cold. Rusty put on her jacket, picked up the bag of money and exited
the office. The so-called bodyguard was just getting to his feet as she
came through the door. Before he could do anything Rusty"s fist collided
with his chin as she stepped toward him and took a big swing with her right
fist. He fell right back in the chair he had just vacated, but this time
the chair tipped over and both the man and the chair were lying on the
floor. "You are lucky too", she said. "If I had time I would really have
liked to stay and play with you." As she got to the parking lot, Rusty
checked the time. The whole event from the time she got there until now had
only taken forty three minutes. In that time she had gotten the payment,
knocked out the bodyguard twice, and given Ron a little message before also
knocking him out. "I really love my work" she said laughing as she rode
away.

Rusty stopped by Vince Castellano's office to drop off the money she had
collected. She gave Vince a rundown on what had occurred at Ron's office
and a grin spread across Vince's face.

"I'm going to have to go along to see you in action one of the days." Vince
said. "You have become a legend in this business. Nobody misses payments
any more. This little punk was the exception, and it sounds like you
handled it well."  As Rusty turned to go, one of the men deliberately
brushed against her butt. "Touch me again, and I'll break your jaw," Rusty
snarled at him. No one laughed. The man backed away quickly. "She can do it
too, I've seen the results of her work. They all wound up in the hospital"
Vince told him. "Sorry, Rusty, it was an accident." the man said. She gave
him her 1000 watt smile, and said "Apology accepted."  Rusty told Vince
that today was her moving day so she would need a couple of days off. 
"Take all the time you need"  Vince told her. "You've got everything under
control. When word gets around about today, the money will come rolling
in."  Rusty left his office, got on her Harley and rode back to her motel.

Rusty took only a few minutes to pack. All of her new clothes were being
delivered to her new apartment. She put on the one good blue dress that she
had there and  threw the few things she had  left in a suitcase. She took
one last look around the small room that had been home for over a year, and
quickly walked out the door. She took a taxi to her new address, leaving
the Harley to be picked up later. Arriving at the apartment building, she
took the elevator up to her new apartment. The furniture was already there,
the delivery crew was setting it up. Rusty directed their efforts in
arranging it the way she and the decorator had planned. It was perfect. She
tipped the crew and they left. Rusty was alone at last in her beautiful new
apartment. The door bell rang and it was the clothing store delivering her
new outfits. Rusty hung them in the huge closet in the master bedroom. She
headed down to the office, when she bumped into a young man getting out of
the elevator. He stared at her for a second, then recovered his composure.
"Hi, I'm Danny Edwards,  your next door neighbor. Welcome to the building."
He held out his hand. Rusty introduced herself and shook the outstretched
hand. Danny continued. "Moving days are very tough. You must be tired. Why
don't you join me for dinner? I have a couple of steaks I can throw on the
grill. You can relax for a few minutes before you get back to unpacking." 
Usually Rusty would have had nothing to do with him, but since it was her
new home and he was her neighbor, and she was hungry, she accepted Danny's
invitation. As he prepared the meal, they got to know each other better.
Rusty told him she was a financial consultant. Danny she found out had been
a whiz kid investment banker. He burned out at the age of thirty, and took
his money and opened a small coffee shop. That had grown into a very
successful restaurant, and now he had opened two more. He was working
harder than he had in banking, but he enjoyed it a whole lot more. Rusty
observed him more closely. Danny was only an inch taller than Rusty and
weighed about one hundred seventy pounds. He was a nice looking young man
with dark brown hair and green eyes. He seemed to have a perpetual smile on
his face. Rusty thought he was the nicest man she had met in a long time.
After dinner Rusty thanked him for his hospitality and went back to her
apartment. She was very tired from her actions at Ron Allen's office and
moving. All that activity made for a very long day. Rusty showered and went
to bed.  She awoke early the next morning and dressed in sweats to go to
the fitness center in the building. She had added a weight routine to her
exercise program. She did a series of bench presses with 250 pounds. She
worked systematically through her program and finished with dumbbell curls
of seventy pounds. Danny entered the fitness center as Rusty was finishing.
They chatted for a minute then he began to work out. Rusty noticed that he
was using much less weight than she had. She waved at him and returned to
her apartment. She showered, dressed, and had breakfast. Since she had the
day off she planned to spend the day, settling in and doing some shopping.
She was determined to make her lifestyle change a successful one. The day
flew by. Before she knew it the clock read three o'clock in the afternoon.
At that time the doorbell chimed. Rusty opened the door, and a delivery man
from a florist stood there with two dozen roses. She tipped him and after
he left, she read the card. The flowers were from Danny inviting her to
dinner at his restaurant tonight. Rusty decided to accept, and donned one
of her new outfits to wear. Danny rang the bell at exactly seven o'clock.
He was overwhelmed by the beauty of the woman who answered the door. They
drove to Danny's Grill, his personal favorite of the three restaurants.
They got along famously and the evening seemed to be over in the blink of
an eye. As they were preparing to leave two men approached Danny and he
spoke to them privately. Rusty recognized the two men. They were Lou
Palmero and Rocco Pendola. They worked for Charlie Vetto, the crime boss
for the area in which the restaurants were located. Danny had a very
troubled expression on his face when he returned. Rusty tried to find out
what was bothering him. Finally, Danny told her. The two men were involved
in a protection scheme. They wanted to charge Danny a large sum of money to
"protect" his businesses from potential trouble. Danny had refused, and now
they were making thinly veiled threats. "I thought all this Godfather stuff
was just in the movies." Danny concluded. "They work for some mobster named
Charlie Vetto. I guess this is in his so-called territory. Anyway, I'm not
going to pay them one penny. I've worked too hard to give away money."
Rusty seemed concerned. "I hope this all will blow over." She said. Rusty
excused herself to go to the bathroom. She saw the two gangsters still
hanging out in the restaurant. She told them that Danny was under the
protection of Vince Castellano and they should leave him alone. They just
glared at her and did not reply. Rusty went to the phone and called Vince.
She asked him to call Charlie Vetto and take care of the situation. Vince
only too happy to accommodate Rusty, said he would take care of it. She
returned to the table and Danny. They drove back home having put the
protection threat out of their mind. When they got to Rusty's door, Danny
gave her a peck on the cheek and started to his apartment. He felt her hand
on his arm. "Is that the best you can do?" came the question. Rusty spun
him around and covered his lips with hers in a long, lingering kiss. She
kept the kiss going while pulling him into her apartment. She broke the
kiss and said, "You're not getting off that easy." Her throaty voice seemed
to drop an octave.
"You're too tense. The stress from this protection business has you all
tensed up. Dr. Rusty has the cure for that."  She kissed him again, her
tongue hungrily forcing it's way into his mouth. Danny had been overwhelmed
from the start. He started to respond. She could feel his erection start to
grow. Rusty took his hand and lead him to the bedroom. She pushed Danny
back on the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. Now she was nuzzling his
earlobes. Danny thought "This must be a dream. A woman like this doesn't
make a pass at somebody like me." But that was exactly what Rusty had done.
Danny was the first man in a long time who had treated her with respect,
and had not tried to get her into bed from the first moment. She was
falling for him.

"You finish getting ready while I change" Rusty whispered. As Danny fumbled
with his pants, Rusty went into the bathroom. She came out stark naked.
When Danny saw her his jaw dropped in amazement. Her flaming red hair and
gorgeous face sat atop a mind-blowing body. Rusty's pumped up muscles
flexed and rippled with every step. Danny could have never imagined such a
combination of beauty and power as he was seeing now. He never suspected
that a body like this had been disguised by her clothing. "I hope muscular
women don't turn you off." Rusty smiled at him and flexed her biceps. Huge
balls of muscle that must be at least nineteen inches around sprang up on
each arm.  Danny was speechless, but his cock let her know how he felt. It
was the biggest hard-on he had ever had in his life. "You're incredible.
You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and your muscles are
definitely not a turn-off as you can plainly see."  Rusty pushed him back
on the bed and mounted him. "Dr. Rusty will take care of everything. You
just sit back and enjoy the ride. She took his fully erect penis in her wet
and ready pussy. Slowly she began to move up and down. Her vaginal muscles
clenched and unclenched on his cock. Danny had never experienced a
sensation like this in his life. Rusty's movement began to pick up speed.
Both of their climaxes were rapidly approaching. They exploded together in
the wildest orgasm that Danny had ever had. When it was over Rusty leaned
over and kissed him tenderly, then got up off the bed. Danny had to pinch
himself to be sure this was not a dream. He shook his head in wonder as he
viewed that magnificent body again. Rusty climbed back on the bed and
snuggled up next to him and whispered in his ear. "This is going to be a
long night, I hope you're up to it." She was manipulating his cock and
balls with her hand as she spoke. Danny was ready again, and that is how
the next several hours passed. Finally both of them tired and exhausted
dropped off to sleep. Danny awoke with a start, realizing he had to go to
work. Rusty was still asleep as he got up and put on his clothes. He woke
her up with a kiss, and told her he must go to his apartment and get ready
for work. "I'll come back before I leave." Danny said. "I'll fix us some
coffee." Rusty promised. Danny went out the door and to his apartment.
Rusty put on coffee and showered. She dressed in a sweatshirt and a pair of
shorts that showed off her tremendous legs.

She poured a cup of coffee and sat down to wait for Danny. Thirty minutes
went by and still he had not arrived. Rusty shrugged and thought "Men take
longer than women to dress." Another fifteen minutes passed. Rusty decided
to check to see what was delaying Danny. She went down the hall to his
apartment. The door was open. Rusty stuck her head inside and looked
around. No sign of Danny. Then she heard a faint moan from the living room.
She found Danny on the floor, unconscious. He had obviously suffered a
terrible beating. Rusty rushed to the phone and called 911. Danny looked
awful. Both of his legs appeared to be broken. His face was a mess. Blood
was everywhere. His left arm stuck out at a funny angle. Rusty knelt down
beside him. His eyes fluttered open for a brief few seconds. "Who did
this?" She asked. Danny mumbled something. Rusty placed her ear right next
to his busted mouth. "Protection." Was the faint response she heard. "Did
those two gorillas we saw at the restaurant do this?" Rusty asked gently.
Danny nodded his head. Rusty's eyes narrowed. The paramedics arrived to
transport Danny to the hospital. "Is he going to be alright?" Rusty wanted
to know. "Are you his wife?" the paramedic asked. "I'm his next door
neighbor, I found him and called you." Rusty replied. "He's in bad shape.
It is impossible to tell if he is going to make it or not. The next few
minutes are critical, so stay back and let us do our job." he said to her.
They got IV lines hooked up and moved Danny to the ambulance. Rusty rode to
the emergency room with him. When Danny was taken in, Rusty called Vince
and told him what happened. "I want those two bastards!" she said to Vince.
"Let me call Charlie and find out what happened. Sit tight, I'll call you
back." Vince said. Rusty sat by the phone and waited. No word on Danny yet.
The phone rang and she jumped up to answer it. It was Vince. "I talked to
Charlie. He told them I had requested they lay off. However he left it up
to them. I told him you wanted vengeance. He OK'ed  it, but he said you
can't kill them, unless the boy dies. If this is limited to just those two,
it will be cool, no problems. Just remember what he said. No guns or
knives. Do you need any help?"  "I want to take care of this myself." Rusty
replied. "Thanks for your help Vince, You've done more than enough already.
I'm going to stay here until I hear about Danny's condition, then I will
see about our two friends." Rusty hung up the phone. Several minutes later,
a doctor emerged from the surgery suite. "Are you with Danny Edwards?" he
asked. Rusty nodded. "He is a very lucky young man. He has had extensive
injuries and broken bones but he will pull through. He is pretty sedated
right now, but you can see him for a minute. He will need a lot of
rehabilitation to get back to normal, but he will make it in time."

Rusty rushed into the room. Danny lay on the hospital bed with tubes
seeming to be everywhere. his head was covered in cloth. His eyelids
fluttered and he tried a weak smile. Rusty took his hand. He immediately
fell asleep. The doctor tapped her on the shoulder and lead her from the
room. "You can see him tomorrow." he told her. Rusty called a taxi and went
home.

Rusty was determined to avenge the terrible beating that had been inflicted
on Danny. She new the bar where the two hoodlums hung out. She would go
there and confront them. Rusty looked down at the sweatshirt she had been
wearing all morning. It was stained with Danny's blood. She removed it, and
the shorts she had on. Looking at her body in the mirror, she saw how it
fooled most people. She was tall at five-ten. Her skin was smooth, not real
vascular. Her breasts were in proportion to her size and looked bigger than
they were because they sat atop her huge pectoral muscles. Rusty stepped on
her bathroom scales. one hundred and seventy four pounds. She had gained
six pounds of muscle since starting her weight program. At first glance she
was just a tall, athletic, well proportioned woman. When she flexed, that
was a different story. Rusty decided to measure her biceps. She got a
measuring tape and flexed her right bicep. It began to grow and looked like
it would never stop. It was a large, hard, cantaloupe sized ball of muscle.
Her left hand wrapped the tape around that bicep. Nineteen and one quarter
inches. She repeated the process with her left arm. Unlike many body
builders and weight lifters Rusty did not have a real dominant side. Her
left bicep also stretched the tape at nineteen and one quarter inches. Her
thighs now measured twenty nine inches, also a gain since she started
weight training. She balled up her hands into big hard fists. They looked
like mallets, with prominent knuckles sticking out. Rusty thought, "I'm
glad that guns and knives are not allowed. These will be weapons enough.".

Her thoughts continued "I don't know if I will be able to take both of them
or not, but I have to try. If I can I will make what they did to Danny look
insignificant.".  Taking one last look at her powerful body in the mirror,
she went back to the bedroom to dress. She carefully laid out her "work"
clothes, the outfit she wore when pounding other men into oblivion. The
skin tight jeans, the sleeveless tee shirt, and the denim jacket. She wound
a blue bandanna around her head to hold her hair in place. As she was
leaving, Rusty picked up a 9mm automatic pistol she kept locked in a drawer
and stuck it in the back of her jeans in case the situation really turned
bad. She went to the parking garage, got her Harley and rode to the bar
where Lou and Rocco were. She spotted them immediately sitting at a table
in the back. Rusty knew them slightly and had spoken to them at Danny's
restaurant. She approached their table. "Hi ya babe! You here to see us?"
Lou asked. "I really would like to talk to you. Is there someplace more
private that we could go?" Rusty smiled sweetly. "Sure, there's a back room
we use. We can go there." said Rocco.  As they stood up, Rusty took a good
look at the two of them. Lou was short, and heavy. He had a big neck, thick
chest, and large arms. He also had a big stomach which he had always had.
He had a reputation as a brawler in his younger days. Rocco was six feet
two, and about one-ninety and considered himself a real ladies' man. The
room was fairly large and sparsely furnished with a table, four chairs, a
sofa and television set. The first person to speak was Rusty. "I want to
know why you went after Danny Edwards after I told you he was already taken
care of by Vince Castellano. Vince is pissed off about that and he and
Charlie have already come to an agreement about it." The two thugs looked
at each other. Neither of them said anything. Lou finally answered, "He
didn't give us proper respect. We only wanted what we usually get from
businesses in the area and he laughed at us. If Vince is protecting him, he
did a terrible job. Basically we worked him over because we wanted to."
Rusty reached behind her and pulled out the pistol. The two men had very
surprised looks on their faces. "Very slowly, reach in and remove your
guns." she said. "One funny move and I will blast both of you. All I want
is an excuse. You see, Danny was my responsibility and I thought Charlie
called you dogs off. Now you are going to have to pay for what you did." 
Low and Rocco removed their weapons and placed them on the table. "Now back
away." Rusty ordered. Lou and Rocco complied. Lou's weapon was an
automatic. Rusty picked it up, saw that there was no round in the chamber,
and ejected the clip. Rocco's was a revolver. She emptied each cylinder.
Then she tossed the pistols in the trash can and put the ammunition in the
table drawer. Still holding the men at gunpoint, she removed her jacket and
placed it on the table. Her next move shocked both of them. She held up her
9mm and ejected the clip from it as well. She walked over in front of the
two thugs. "Now I'm unarmed just like Danny was. Let's see you try to do
the same thing to me."  "What the hell are you talking about?" Lou asked.
"I thought you were a couple of tough guys. Can't the two of you take one
little woman? I'm here to get even for Danny".  Rocco had gotten a good
look at her arms while she was talking, and was concerned that taking her
out would not be as easy as Danny had been. He also knew her reputation as
Vince's enforcer. As if reading his mind Rusty flexed her right bicep
slightly while she was speaking and a large ball of hard muscle jumped out
from her arm. "Let me make this simple," Rusty continued, "I'm here to get
revenge for Danny. If Charlie hadn't forbidden it, you would already be
dead. All I can do is bust you up and that is what I intend to do!" Rusty
was almost shouting now. "Alright bitch, this is your funeral.".  Lou
looked at Rocco and they split apart. "You are going to wish you had used
that gun when you had the chance." Lou continued.
"We're going to fuck you silly after we kick your ass. If you think because
you are a broad we will cut you any slack, you don't know us very well." 
Rusty had a plan. She thought Lou would be the most dangerous so she wanted
to put him down quickly if possible, concentrate on Rocco, then come back
to Lou. They were all circling slowly around the room. Rusty feinted toward
Rocco, then sprang at Lou. She drove the steel capped toe of her motorcycle
boot into his shin about eight inches below the knee. The pain was
excruciating. Lou was immobilized. Rusty pounded her big right fist into
his fat belly as hard as she could swing. Lou's face turned pale and he
wanted to throw up. Before he could do anything at all that big fist
crashed under the point of his chin, and Lou toppled to the floor out cold.
Rocco had watched in a state of disbelief. The man he had considered
invincible in a fight had been knocked out in a matter of seconds by this
woman. He had seen the huge bicep in her right arm bulge to a nearly
inhuman proportion as it had driven her fist upward to smash under Lou's
chin. Already an angry bruise could be seen forming there as he lay
motionless on his back.  Rusty turned to Rocco. "It seems that your friend
wants to sleep for quite a while, so he won't disturb us. Now its your
turn."  Rocco took another look at Lou sprawled out on his back, and felt a
little pang of fear for the first time. "It was Lou's idea to mess up the
kid," Rocco said. "I tried to talk him out of it. Why don't we go get a
drink and talk this over." Rusty replied, "There's a television cop show
where the quote every week is don't do the crime if you can't do the time.
You did the crime so you are about to do the time. Starting now."  Rocco
made a break for the door. He took Rusty by surprise so she didn't react
immediately. Rocco turned the knob when he remembered he and Lou had locked
the door to keep the woman in the room in case they wanted to do her. He
almost had the door unlocked when he felt a strong hand grasp his collar
and jerk him back in to the center of the room. He lost his balance and
fell. "Get up and fight!" Rusty snarled at him. Rocco stayed on the floor.
Rusty kicked him in the ribs with her left foot. The steel toed boot
cracked his ribs. Rocco cried out in pain. Rusty reached down and grabbed
him by the ears and lifted him to his feet. The pain in his ears nearly
made him forget the pain in his ribs. Rusty released him and he staggered
around. She stepped in front of him and rattled his teeth with a tremendous
left hook to his jaw. Rocco spun around and fell to the floor again. Rusty
pulled him up and held him steady with her left hand. She sent her hard
right fist smashing deep in his belly. Rocco was having trouble breathing.
Rusty sent that big fist crashing straight into his open mouth. Rocco could
feel his lips being crushed against his teeth. Another big right hand
smashed his mouth. Now Rocco's front teeth buckled under those iron hard
knuckles. A third time that same fist was sent powering into his mouth.
This time the teeth gave way totally to that battering-ram fist. Rocco was
slumped over. He would have long since fallen if not held up by Rusty's
left hand. That brutal fist sought out another target. It detonated like a
bomb just under his left eye. Rusty could feel the bone and the zygomatic
arch begin to give way. A second vicious smash to the same place and the
bone and arch shattered. Rocco was barely conscious. The agony in his face
was so severe he felt like it was being torn off. Only Rusty's strong left
arm and hand were supporting him. "Every time I think you have had enough,
I think of Danny lying there in the hospital hanging between life and
death. You deserve more."  With that she changed hands and now held him up
with her right. She cocked her left back and drove it viciously into his
right eye. Three more times she did this. Her fist bruised and pulped the
flesh surrounding his eye. He would need reconstructive surgery to rebuild
the bones of his face and several of his teeth were either broken or
knocked completely our. Rusty paused when she heard Lou beginning to moan
and move around on the floor. She ended Rocco's misery with a brain jarring
left to his jaw rendering him unconscious. She still had not let his body
hit the floor. Rusty carried Rocco over to the sofa and placed  his inert
body in a sitting position facing Lou. As Lou began to fully regain
consciousness, he saw what appeared to be Rocco sitting on the sofa. "Wh-
What's going on," Lou said, rubbing the bruise under his chin. "Rocco?
Rocco? Dammit answer me!". Lou moved slowly over toward where Rocco was on
the sofa. Then he got a good look at Rocco's face. "My God, Rocco what the
hell happened to you?".  Rusty's voice came from behind him. "I'm afraid he
can't answer you right now. He seems to have replaced you as the sleeping
beauty. Actually I took it easy on him because he told me you were mostly
responsible for what happened to Danny. You won't get off nearly as easy.
Take one more look at his face. It will look like the Mona Lisa compared to
yours when I'm through."  Lou glanced down at Rocco's face again. It was a
real mess. Lou started to move away from Rocco when he felt the severe pain
in his leg that Rusty had kicked with her steel toed boot. It must be
broken he thought. His chin was throbbing where her big fist has landed the
punch that had knocked him out. "Take your time, Lou. We've got all night.
Why don't you take off your jacket and get comfortable. I can wait." Lou
removed his jacket and his shirt. His neck and shoulders were huge. So were
his arms and chest. He was a barrel of a man. His stomach was swollen from
too much good food and booze, but he would be a much tougher opponent than
Rocco. The broken leg would slow him down, however. He checked out Rusty
while he removed his jacket and shirt. He had not seen many men as muscular
as this redhead. Wide powerful shoulders, biceps like boulders, small,
muscled waist, big legs. She had clenched her fists while she waited for
him. They looked like big, hard, wrecking balls attached to the end of her
arms. Her tee shirt had been torn during her bout with Rocco so she ripped
it off. Lou gasped again. With her fair, white skin and hard bulging
muscles she seemed to be carved out of marble. Lou felt doubt regarding his
chances to defeat her for the first time. He seemed to be mesmerized by her
breasts as she advanced on him. They jutted straight out from her powerful
pectoral muscles and had large prominent nipples.  Lou was overwhelmed by
her combination of beauty, sexuality, and power. Rusty could feel her
muscles quiver with anticipation. She could also feel the wetness that was
developing between her legs as she thought about what she was going to do
to Lou. Time seemed to stand still as they faced each other with each
waiting for the other to make the first move. There was a noise behind
Rusty as Rocco's limp form moaned and slid from the sofa to the floor in an
involuntary reaction. He was still out cold. When Rusty turned her head
toward the sound, and was momentarily distracted, Lou attacked. Before
Rusty could refocus his ham-like fist smashed into her jaw. Rusty went
sailing backward and landed on the floor, stunned. Lou tried to kick her
but his injured leg would not support him and he slipped. Rusty scrambled
to her feet only to be met by Lou's big fist slamming into her face again.
Down she went again. Blood was flowing from her mouth. As Lou stood over
her as her head was spinning. Lou grabbed her hair and jerked Rusty to her
feet. She was semi-conscious. "Well whore, you wanted this now you got it.
I'm going to fuck you up even worse than we did your wimp boyfriend. I
really enjoyed that. Then after I get tired of beating on you, I will fuck
your brains out.". Lou proceeded to take the next few minutes to tell Rusty
in great detail exactly what he intended to do to her. Had he gone ahead
and finished her off when he first picked her up, the fight would have been
over. As he taunted her, Rusty's powerful body began to recover from the
effects of Lou's punches. "Now here comes the crusher, whore." . Lou
finished his speech and drew back that concrete block fist to blast Rusty
into oblivion. The blow never landed. Before he could launch it, Rusty
managed to drive her boot with the steel toe into Lou's injured leg. He
screamed in pain. and released his grip on her hair. The mighty punch
halted in mid-swing and he collapsed to the floor. Rusty staggered away
from him, and propped herself up against the wall. Lou rolled on the floor
holding his damaged leg. Rusty was trying to recover from the punishment
she had received from his fists. Her left eye was closing, and blood was
running down her face. The question was who would recover first because
that is who would win.

Rusty was taking deep breaths in the beginning. Slowly her breathing
returned to normal and the pain in her face began to subside. She moved
over to where Lou was still on the floor holding his leg. "I don't think I
have ever tried to lift this much weight before, but here goes." Rusty
said. She wrapped her strong hands in Lou's armpits, and hauled him to his
feet. "I'm not going to make the same mistake you made, fatso. I'm not
going to talk myself in to trouble. This is time for action, we'll talk
later."  Rusty drove her right fist up to the wrist in Lou's large stomach.
His feet lifted off the floor from the power of the punch. Almost before he
could react to the punch she duplicated it with her left fist. Again his
feet lifted off the floor. Lou's knees gave way and he started to slump to
the floor. His descent was interrupted by that vicious right fist driving
upward to his stomach again. Lou could taste the bile in his throat and
suddenly he heaved the contents of his stomach out of his mouth. Rusty
leaped back to keep it from getting on her as Lou fell to the floor in his
own vomit. Lou lay on the floor making grunting sounds. Rusty spotted a
coat rack in one corner of the room and it gave her an idea. She brought it
over near where Lou was trying to regain his breath. Rusty raised him to
his feet again. She placed the coat rack behind Lou and hooked his belt
over the lower part of the rack and pulled up his undershirt and wrapped it
around the top part of the rack. Lou was essentially being held upright by
his belt and undershirt. Rusty stepped around in front of him. "Of all the
things I love to do to punks like you, my favorite is to smash my fists
into your fat belly. To feel my hard fists sink deep into your soft gut
really gets me hot. Feeling your flabby belly give in to my fists always
makes me cum." Rusty said to Lou.

He glared at her. He resolved that he would take his beating like a man.
That was what he had always told his victims to do. He promised himself
that no matter how bad it hurt he would not beg, plead or cry. His thoughts
were interrupted by her fist sinking deep into his belly. The other punches
came too fast to count. Vicious, ripping blows driving deeper and deeper
into his soft belly. He could see the huge muscles of her shoulders and
arms writhing and flexing as she pounded fist after fist to his poor
battered gut. Lou was in agony. He was sure something was ruptured as pain
and nausea racked his battered body. Still Rusty kept up her barrage of
brutal belly punches. Her fists looked massive to Lou as she kept hammering
and hammering. Even after he was unconscious she kept it up. Finally Rusty
stopped the assault and stepped back. Blood was running from both sides of
Lou's mouth. Rusty realized that she had experienced a very intense orgasm
as she had continued to rip away at the now pillow soft belly of her
victim. Lou was still hanging from the coat rack. Rusty waited for him to
wake up for several minutes. She quickly checked Rocco, but he had shown no
signs of coming around. Lou was just waking up as she returned to him.
Despite his earlier resolve, overcome with pain and nausea he began to beg
this powerful woman not to hurt him anymore. Rusty asked him, "What did you
do when Danny pleaded with you to stop." Lou started blubbering like a
baby.  "You've been a very naughty boy. Mommy has to spank you some more."
Rusty said. She smashed her left fist straight in to the center of his
face. Her right followed faster than the eye could follow. Her fists were
like a category 5 hurricane, destroying everything in their path. There was
no part of Lou's face that did not bear the mark of her fists. Lou's head
whipped back and forth from side to side in cadence with her punches. Her
big, hard knuckled fists were turning his face to a red colored jelly.
Finally Rusty stopped her assault. Lou's face was smashed beyond
recognition. He was still clinging to consciousness by a thread, Rusty had
deliberately not knocked him out, wanting to prolong his punishment. She
set herself and drove her left fist deep into his battered belly again. as
his body reacted to the punch and his head moved, his down-dropping jaw met
a sledgehammer disguised as Rusty's massive right fist rising from the
floor to smash into the underside of his jaw. Rusty had turned her body to
get every ounce of power she had left concentrated into that vicious punch.
A loud, horrible sounding crack filled the room as his jawbone broke like a
twig from the force of her brutal fist. Lou was lifted off the coat rack by
the ferocious punch and just before everything went black he could feel his
mouth filling up with blood and parts of teeth. His now unconscious body
sailed clear of the rack and landed with a thump face down some six feet
away. Her second orgasm had exploded as she delivered the last, monstrous
punch  that shattered Lou's jawbone. Rusty stood looking at the bodies of
the two unconscious thugs. Danny had been avenged. They were both battered
even worse than Danny had been. Rusty realized she had blood all over her.
The good news was than almost none of it was hers, it belonged to Lou and
Rocco.  Her eye was closed, and her lip was swollen, but she was otherwise
unhurt. That could not be said for her victims. She had heeded the warning
from Charlie and not killed them, but they were both injured very badly. A
slight smile crossed her lips as she looked at the bleeding knuckles of her
big fists and surveyed the damage they had done to the faces and bodies of
the two hoods.

She picked up the remnants of her tee shirt and stuck it in her jacket
pocket. She donned the denim jacket and zipped it up to cover her naked
breasts. She would go home, Call Vince and tell him where to find what was
left of Lou and Rocco, shower, and hurry to the hospital to visit Danny.

The next morning she picked up the newspaper and saw the article in the
local section. "Gang war erupts. Last night in what was described as an
episode in the war between rival factions of the mob, Two mobsters
affiliated with the family of crime boss Charlie Vetto were severely
beaten. In the hospital, one of the mobsters, Rocco Pendola was able to
tell police that he and Lou Palmero were attacked by several men armed with
lead pipes and clubs and beaten. The two men suffered severe injuries both
internal and to their heads and faces. They could not identify any of the
attackers. The police suspect they were from a rival family headed by Vince
Castellano.

Witnesses did see an attractive red haired woman enter a room with the two
victims shortly before the attack presumably occurred. They would like to
talk to her regarding this case. If anyone knows her identity, of if she
reads this article the police would appreciate it if she would contact
them."

[Chainer★]

The Road Trip
By Arby
Rusty beats up the four Midgett brothers


The six year old automobile came over a steep rise on a winding two lane
blacktop road in the hill country of Eastern Kentucky. The driver, an
elderly gentleman dressed in overalls and a plaid flannel shirt slowed
as he saw a solitary figure standing by the side of the road. As he
neared he could see a motorcycle parked just off the side of the road,
and the figure who must be the rider standing with thumb extended
looking for a ride. The rider seemed to be fairly tall and was dressed
in a denim jacket and blue jeans. The motorcycle helmet was still on the
rider's head. The old man, afraid of bikers, accelerated as he neared
the lone figure and rapidly pulled away. The rider cursed softly. "Damn.
Of all the places for the clutch to blow, it would have to be out in the
middle of nowhere. I hope I can catch a ride to the next town and see
about getting the part I need to fix it."  The rider removed the dark
helmet. Long, flaming red hair streamed down to the cyclist's shoulders.
A beautiful feminine face with full lips and ice blue eyes looked out
from under all that red hair. There was a faint sprinkling of freckles
across the bridge of the rider's nose that added to rather than
detracted from the rider's beauty. The woman unbuttoned the jacket
revealing a white cropped tee shirt that emphasized her sizable breasts.
She heard the sound of another vehicle coming over the rise. She looked
up and saw a pick-up truck winding down the road. She strode to the side
of the road and stuck out her thumb again.

The driver of the pick-up nearly ran off the road when he saw this red
haired vision standing there with her thumb in the air. "This must be my
lucky day!" he said to himself.  He skidded to a stop. "Need some help,
honey?" he asked.  "My bike broke down," she said pointing to the
Harley. "Could you give me a lift to the nearest town?"  Her voice was
low and musical.  "Sure, I can" the man said and got out of the truck.
When the woman saw him she wished he had not stopped. He looked like
trouble. He was a large man, well over six feet tall and heavily built.
He was wearing a work shirt and jeans with a large belt buckle. His gut
extended well over the belt. He looked like he hadn't shaved for several
days, and from the smell, hadn't taken a bath either. The woman decided
to make the best of a bad situation. She gave him a dazzling smile and
said "Thanks a lot. I really appreciate the help. I was beginning to
think that nobody lived out this way."  "This is farm country, not too
many houses. You could have been stranded out here for days. Ole, B.D.
will help you, honey. That's my name. B.D. Midgett."  "Well, thanks
again, B.D. I'll get the bike and maybe we can load it in the back of
your truck."  She had not given him her name. The woman turned her back
to get the motorcycle. B.D. had not had a woman for a long time and he
was used to just taking what he wanted around there. The woman bent over
to get the bike pointing her shapely butt right at him.  "Good God, what
a looker. She sure isn't from around here. I surely would like to have
me some of that" B.D. thought to himself.  He walked up behind the woman
and put one large hand on each of her butt cheeks. "You sure got a nice
ass."

B.D. said. The woman sprang up from the motorcycle and faced him. "Keep
your hands to yourself. My ass is not part of the deal" she said. "Now
honey, ole B.D. is going to help you out, but I need a little pay. I
haven't had any pussy in a long time and I bet you ain't no virgin. I'd
even bet you ain't no natural redhead, either"  He laughed as he said
that showing tobacco stained teeth.  "Whether I'm a virgin or not
doesn't make any difference, because you won't be finding out. Why don't
you just get back in your truck and leave. I'll find another way to
town." "Don't play high and mighty with me, girly. There ain't nobody
around for miles out here but you and me."  B.D. reached out and brushed
her breasts. The woman backed up. "You better leave before I get mad! 
You don't want to be here when I get mad. Bad things happen to people."
"Well I'll be damned. Temper like a redhead too. I'm really goin' to
like this redheaded pussy." B.D. said.

The woman was getting upset. "What happened, did your sheep
die?" she asked sarcastically. "That's probably the only pussy you can
get."  "Lady, you done made ole B.D. mad. I'm going to fuck you till you
scream, then fuck you some more."  She continued to back away and he
followed her. Soon they were down an embankment out of sight of the
road. B.D. lunged at her, both arms wide open to grab her. He moved
faster than she thought he could, but she managed to avoid his rush and
he tripped and fell to the ground. As he rolled around trying to regain
his footing the woman shrugged resignedly and removed her jacket and
casually tossed it aside.  B.D. halted right in his tracks with a look
of absolute surprise on his face. It was not her beauty that caused this
reaction. He had almost gotten used to that. It was her body. Instead of
the tall, frail girl with big tits that he had expected to see, this
woman had muscles like he had never seen before. Huge caps of muscle sat
on her shoulders pulling her shirt tight against them. She had a wide
back tapering to a small muscled belly clearly visible beneath the
cropped shirt. Her legs looked like they were about to burst through her
jeans, But it was her arms that mesmerized him. Her forearms writhed
with muscle and large blue veins ran through them. Her biceps looked like
bowling balls to him again with large veins running across the tops. Her
triceps resembled triangles of knotted rope on the back of her arms. Her
hands were curled into big, hard looking fists attached to thick,
vascular wrists. She could plainly see the effect she was having on him.
Before he could regain his composure she said still in that low soft
voice, "I haven't kicked the shit out of an asshole like you in a while.
This should be fun. So if you still want me, come on sweetheart and take
your best shot!"  B.D. charged forward reaching out to grab her. This
time the woman made no attempt to get out of the way. Instead she coiled
her body and brought her right fist up from behind and below her knees
and smashed it under his chin. Although B.D. was moving at top speed for
him, he stopped like he had hit a brick wall. Slowly he toppled over and
fell on his back where he lay fighting to hold on to a thread of
consciousness. "Either you have a chin like a rock or I'm losing my
punch because I thought you would be out like a light" the redhead said
to the man although it was doubtful that he could hear her. He was
moaning softly and not moving at all. The woman reached down, took his
left arm in both hands and lifted it up and away from his body. She
drove the toe of her motorcycle boot viciously into his armpit. The man
screamed in pain. She continued to pull the arm up and out putting great
pressure on his shoulder joint. Perspiration formed on her shirt as her
own arm and shoulder muscles expanded with the effort. There was a sound
like tearing cloth as the ligaments in his shoulder were ripped loose.
The man screamed again. The redhead released his now useless arm and
slipped her hands under his arms pulling him to his feet.  Her body
turned bringing her weight toward him and burying her large right fist
deep in his big belly. B.D. pitched forward and slowly sank to his
knees. Next he expelled his lunch in one big heave. The woman leaped
back but not in time. Some of his vomit splashed on her jeans and her
boots. "You'll have to pay for that, shithead." she growled. B.D. was on
his knees throwing up what was left in his stomach; strings of green
mucous were hanging from his mouth. She got him to his feet and once
again powered that fist deep in his gut. Since B.D. had nothing left to
bring up he had a case of the dry heaves, and as he sank again to his
knees he had a great deal of difficulty breathing. He then flopped over
on his side gasping for air.  "You lose," she said. "You thought I was
not a natural redhead, and you are about to find out how wrong you were.
I really get horny beating up assholes."  She removed her boots and
jeans. As she pulled down her panties, sure enough, thick red pubic hair
curled between her legs and it was now glistening wet. She rolled B.D.
on his back and sat down on his chest. "Now be a good boy and use your
tongue and I might not have to beat you any more" She placed her wet,
hungry snatch over his face and said "Get to work!"  It was obvious that
B.D. had never done this before, and it was necessary for the woman to
keep instructing him. He eventually got the hang of what to do enough
for her to begin panting and gyrating as her climax neared.  As she
erupted she screamed at the top of her voice. She continued to sit on
his face with his nose buried in her pussy until her breathing returned
to normal.  The woman climbed off his face which was now covered with
her juices, and got dressed. B.D. was slowly regaining his bearings.
"Its time to go, but I think we need one more for the road." She lifted
the man to his feet. As he stood unsteadily in front of her, she grasped
his shirt in her left hand. Once more that powerful fist smashed his
vulnerable gut disappearing in the weakened flesh.  "Gut punching is
fun, but you have been missing your situps, you're like punching a sack
of feathers".  B.D. was drifting into dreamland when he heard her say
"This will teach you not to fuck with Rusty!".  He could barely focus
when he saw her drawing back her fist again. He was spared the pain of
the last punch as he passed out before she could deliver it.  Looking at
the man held up only by her strong left hand she realized he was out.
She glanced back at her cocked fist and said "This is like a samurai
sword. Once it has been drawn, it has to be used." She held that big
fist there briefly admiring it and thinking about the agony it would
cause as it plunged deep in the big man's oversized belly. Smiling,  she
ripped it deep into his unresisting gut. Blood had already been seeping
from his mouth, and this bit of viciousness increased the flow to now
run down his chin.  She dropped the beaten man to the ground. She then
proceeded to remove his vomit from her boots by wiping them on his
shirt. When she finished cleaning her boots she reached in his pocket
and retrieved the keys to the truck. "I don't think you will be needing
your truck for a while, so I hope you don't mind if I borrow it. I'll
leave it in town for you. I hope you have a very nice nap.
Thanks for your help.". She pushed her Harley to the truck. She opened
the tailgate and found the piece of plywood that B.D. used for a ramp.
She rolled the bike up the ramp, closed the tailgate and got in the
truck.

Rusty drove the pick-up truck following the signs to the town. As she
neared the town she saw a sign that said "You are now entering Cairo
Bend, Kentucky pop 22,400. She drove around looking for a repair shop or
a parts store hoping they would have what she needed to repair her
motorcycle. She found Martin's Auto Parts store on the south side of the
town square. The clerk was speechless as the beautiful redhead entered
the store. She explained what she needed and the clerk was finally able
to get it together enough to tell her he could order the part from
Lexington and have it overnighted. It would be there by 7:00A.M. the
next morning. If this lovely woman had asked him to, he would have
probably driven the three hours each way and gotten it himself. She
asked him if he could recommend a good hotel or motel. He gave her
directions to a Ramada Inn only a few blocks from where they were. As
she was leaving almost as an afterthought she asked "Do you know a guy
named B.D. Midgett?".  "Sure I do," the clerk replied. "Everybody knows
the Midgett boys. He and his brothers live back in the hills."  Rusty
continued "He let me borrow his truck to bring in my bike. Could I leave
the keys with you?".  The clerk looked at her more closely "Where is
B.D.? Its not like him to let anybody drive his truck."  "When I drove
away he was sleeping peacefully. I'm sure when he wakes up in a little
while he will want his truck. He knows I will leave it here in town for
him."  "Then I guess it will be O.K." the clerk said. He pushed the
Harley to the back room and locked it up. "Do you need a lift to the
motel?" he asked. He was looking for any excuse to prolong his time with
this gorgeous redhead.

"Thanks, but it is such a nice day, I think I would enjoy the walk. I'll
see you first thing in the morning.  She swung her saddlebags over her
shoulder and set off for the motel.

It only took a few minutes of brisk walking to arrive. It was a very
modern four story structure only about two years old. Rusty approached
the middle aged woman sitting behind the counter. "I'd like a room for
the night, please" she said. The woman looked at her disapprovingly
after seeing the way she was dressed. However, Rusty turned her dazzling
smile on her and the woman grudgingly pushed the registration card
across the desk to her. She filled out the card. Name: Rusty Walters.
Address: New York City: Occupation: Financial Consultant. After reading
the card the woman seemed to have a change of attitude. "Are you really
a financial consultant on Wall Street?" the woman asked. "Something like
that." Rusty smiled at the woman again. "How long will you be with us
Ms. Walters." "Just tonight. My transportation broke down and it will be
ready tomorrow morning."  "Room 117, around by the pool. Enjoy your
stay" finally the woman smiled back. Rusty found her room. It was much
nicer than the motel room she had lived in for a long time at one point
in her life.  She put down her saddlebags and prepared to change.

About the time Rusty was checking in to the motel, B.D. Midgett was
beginning to stir. As he came fully awake he felt a searing pain in his
torn shoulder, and as he got to his feet his belly hurt so much he could
not stand fully erect. He had to move bent over slightly from the waist.
He stumbled away from the road cutting through the hills to the house
where he lived with his three brothers. He had to stop and rest several
times, he was so debilitated from the beating he had received. At last he
staggered through the yard and in to the house. He got to his bedroom
and collapsed on the bed having stopped in the kitchen only long enough
to take four aspirin tablets and wash them down with a liberal shot of
whiskey. His damaged shoulder was throbbing. He had a large welt on his
chin surrounded by an even larger bruise. Cautiously he opened his shirt
and looked at his belly. It was a mass of black and blue where the
woman's fists had landed, and it was so tender he could barely stand to
touch it.  He laid on the bed for quite a while when finally the aspirin
took effect. He immediately took four more again washed down with
whiskey. He heard the sound of vehicles coming signalling the arrival of
his brothers. He heard them come in the house.  He called out to them
and they came to his bedroom. "We didn't know you were here. We didn't
see your truck."  Then they got a good look at him. "Jesus Christ, man
what the hell happened to you?" said Ethan the oldest. "You ain't goin'
to believe it when I tell you. I'm not sure I believe it myself, yet."
B.D. proceeded to tell his brothers what happened. When he finished
Ethan said "You mean a woman did this to you? That really is hard to
believe."  B.D. replied "This ain't no ordinary woman let me tell you.
She is the most beautiful thing I ever seen around here, but when she
took off that jacket, I couldn't believe what she looked like. She had
muscles like I never saw before. Bigger than most men, I'll tell you
that for certain. Big and hard. Bigger and harder than mine or even
yours, Alvin. On top of that she has a punch like a mule's kick. I never
been hit so hard in my life, and you all know I've been in a lot of
scraps. She beat the shit out of me. She could have killed me if she
wanted to and there was nothin' I could do to stop her. She even made me
lick her pussy and I ain't ever done that for any woman before. The last
thing I heard before I went under was her name which was Rusty, which I
guess comes from her red hair." "Do you know where she went?" asked
Alvin the youngest, biggest and meanest of the brothers. "She wanted to
get her motorcycle fixed, so I guess she probably took my truck to town.

"Well we need to get you fixed up, then we'll all drive into town and
pay this Rusty woman a little visit." Ethan said.  They loaded B.D. into
Alvin's truck and headed for the medical clinic.

Rusty turned on the radio in her room and got undressed. Her muscles
were still tense and pumped from the fight with B.D. She took a long,
hot shower. She finally started to relax after several minutes of
soaking. She washed her hair while she was in there.  After about thirty
minutes she finished and dried off. She got clean clothes out of her
saddlebags and laid them out on the bed. She turned and saw her
reflection in the mirror. She had never considered herself a great
beauty, but almost everyone else who had seen her did. She thought her
strong jaw and her aquiline nose affected her looks. She did think the
sprinkle of freckles across her nose was sexy, though. She regarded her
body critically in the mirror. She had not had a chance to work out
since she had been on this trip. However her body still appeared strong
and hard. She knew her weight was still one hundred and seventy four
pounds. Since she was five feet ten inches tall, she carried that weight
well. "Muscle weighs more than fat" she smiled to herself. She flexed
her biceps, turning her head to look at each one. The last time she had
measured them they were nineteen and one quarter inches. "I used to
think they were big when they were sixteen inches," she remembered. At
that time she only weighed one hundred fifty seven pounds. In the last
eighteen months she had put on seventeen pounds of solid muscle and
added three and one quarter inches to her biceps and three inches to her
thighs. Her weight lifting routine was really paying off. She ran her
hands over her large breasts and down to her flat, defined stomach. From
there she rubbed her hands on her huge thighs which now measured twenty
nine inches.  She radiated beauty, power, and sex. No one who saw her on
the street would ever guess that she made a very good living beating
people up, but it was true. She worked as a collector for a loan shark.
They also would not believe she loved her work. Deep down inside this
gorgeous woman was a brutal destroyer of men. She loved to break them,
hearing them beg and plead for mercy, which she never showed them. Rusty
had fallen in love once not too long ago, but that had not worked out,
and that is another story.  "I should have taken it easy with that jerk
this afternoon. I don't need any trouble with the locals while I'm here.
But, I'll bet he won't attack another woman again." She checked the
jeans that she had taken off before her shower. They were splattered
with B.D.'s vomit. "Yuck," she said holding them out away from her. "The
next time I gut somebody, especially a fat slob like that, I have to
remember to get out of the way. Now I have to wash these jeans to try to
get his puke out of them. He really did let it fly, though, didn't he." 
Rusty sat down to brush her hair. The muscles in her arms bunched and
danced as she gave the necessary strokes to her hair.  When she finished
brushing, Rusty realized she was hungry. She checked the time and found
it was just after 6:00P.M. She decided to get dressed and find a place
to eat. She did not feel like eating in the motel dining room. She put
on fresh jeans that clung to her big muscular legs like a second skin.
It was a pain to buy jeans. In order to get them to fit her legs she had
to buy them several sizes to large for her twenty five inch waist. Then
she had to have them taken in considerably in the waist. As she looked
at how good they looked on her, she knew it was worth the effort. She
slipped on a blue and white halter top that exposed her big shoulders
and arms as well as her flat, muscled belly. The denim jacket went on
over it. She tied her hair back with a blue bandanna. She even applied
some makeup. "Might as well impress the homeboys," she grinned at the
mirror as she put on the finishing touches.  Rusty remembered seeing a
small tavern on the way to the motel and decided to go there to eat.



The tavern was not crowded as Rusty entered. There were a few men there
whom she guessed were farmers by the way they were dressed. and a few
men from town. There were two women standing there with bored looks on
their faces. They were the waitresses waiting for the evening crowd to
start to arrive. Rusty walked to the bar and sat down. All eyes in the
place were on her. It was obvious they didn't see women who looked like
her come in there very often. A young bartender rushed over. "Hi, there.
You must be new in town." Rusty just stared at him. "Could I see a menu,
please?" she asked in her low voice. "And give me a beer, whatever you
have on draft." The bartender hurried away and returned with a frosty
mug of beer. Rusty ordered a cheeseburger. She sipped her beer as she
waited for her food. She knew all the men were staring at her, but she
was used to it. She finished her meal and ordered another beer. By now
the tavern had begun to fill up and the noise of many conversations and
the clack of balls from the three pool tables fill the air.  Suddenly
all conversation halted. Even the pool players ceased their play. Four
burly men were standing just inside the door, and one of them with his
arm in a sling was gesturing and pointing toward the bar where Rusty
sat. She was able to see all of this without turning her head by
watching in the mirror behind the bar.  The man in the sling was B.D.
Midgett and the other three were obviously his brothers. The family
resemblance was easy to spot. All were close to the same size, over six
feet, burly with large arms, chests and guts hanging over big belt
buckles. When B.D. moved he still hunched over from the waist, the welt
and bruise on his chin were clearly visible. He was now pointing and
talking in a very animated fashion. Rusty continued to sip her beer as
if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. The four men moved across
the tavern toward her but Rusty continued to face the bar, away from
them. They came to a stop directly behind her. Rusty continued to ignore
them and sip her beer. Finally Ethan reached out and tapped her on the
shoulder. She still kept her back turned and still sipped the beer.
Ethan said "Hey you! Turn around, we want to talk to you. Rusty reached
back and lifted his hand from her shoulder and let it drop. She turned
slowly on her barstool to face the four men.  "Are you the bitch that
hurt our brother" Alvin snarled. Rusty coolly looked each man up and
down before she answered. "Well, yes and no." Rusty said in her calm,
low voice. "What the hell do you mean, yes and no?" Ethan snapped. 
Rusty had a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Yes I
hurt him and no, I am not a bitch and I don't appreciate you calling me
that".  Her eyes swung to B.D. who was standing slightly behind his
brothers. "Hello, B.D. did you find your truck O.K. I want to thank you
for letting me use it. I hope you're feeling better than the last time I
saw you. Was it alright for me to leave it at Martin's?"  B.D. could not
meet the stare of the woman who had humiliated him. His eyes cast down
to the floor.  "YYYess, I-I found it." he stammered.  "Enough about the
damn truck," Alvin shouted. "Nobody hurts one of our family and gets
away with it. You are going to pay for that now, bitch."  "Please don't
call me bitch." Rusty said. "If B.D. told you the truth then you know
that he attacked me and I just defended myself. Since he was in no
condition to answer, I thought I would be alright if I borrowed his
truck to bring my bike in for repairs."  Alvin's voice went up another
notch. "Dammit, I said enough about the fuckin' truck! We're here to
even the score for B.D."  The third brother J.B. had said nothing to
this point. "Why did you beat him up so bad?" he asked Rusty. "I tend to
get really pissed off when somebody tries to rape me, so I must admit I
enjoyed doing it."  Alvin jumped in with, "He says you were askin' for
it shovin' your tits in his face when he stopped, and then stickin' you
ass out at him when he got out of the truck.  So we are going to kick
your ass the way you kicked his, then fuck you right on that pool table
over there, to make up for you makin' him eat your pussy."  The patrons
in the bar were shocked by the language and this turn of events. Several
rushed out the door not wanting to have any part in what they thought
was going to be a mugging and rape by the Midgetts. Rusty looked at B.D.
again. "If you brought these morons here, B.D. to cause trouble, I'm
going to be very angry. You know what happens by now when I get angry,
don't you? Well I'm mad now. I told you before that when I get mad
people get hurt. Keep that in mind. When it is over, I'm coming for you
again. Remember what it was like last time. If you're smart you'll take
these donkeys and get out of here."  B.D. actually backed up several
steps while trying to meet her gaze.  "Enough talk," Ethan growled.
"Prepare to be put in your place bitch, which is on your back with your
legs spread." Rusty stood up and began to leisurely remove her jacket.
"If you keep calling me bitch, I'm gonna really be pissed off."  As the
jacket came off there were several audible gasps around the tavern as
her awesome musculature was exposed to the customers for the first time. 
Rusty called the young bartender over. "What's your name cutiepie?" she
asked him. "Terry" he said. "Terry I want you to hold my jacket for me
while I take care of these assholes, can you do that?"  Terry's eyes
were glued to her massive arms. "Yes ma'am, I sure can" he said. He
took the jacket, carefully folded it and placed it under the bar. Rusty
turned back to the Midgetts. "Now where were we? Oh, yes, you dorks are
going to beat me up and rape me. I suggest you either hit the road or
get started. B.D. remember what I promised you when I finish with Larry,
Curley, and Moe, here."   Rusty stepped away from the bar to the middle
of the room. She had a very confident swagger to her walk as if she were
alone on a beach.

The three uninjured brothers began nervously circling her while B.D. hung
back near the door. All at once all hell broke loose. J.B. and Ethan
lunged at her simultaneously from opposite sides. Rusty pivoted and
drove her boot in to J.B.'s knee. There was a loud crack and he cried
out and fell to the floor grabbing his knee. She spun to meet Ethan as
their bodies collided. The force of the collision drove their bodies to
the floor.  Rusty wrapped her legs around Ethan's waist and began to
squeeze with all the power of her monstrous thighs. At first nothing
happened, then as she continued to send jolts of power from those legs,
Ethan began to moan in pain. His moans became louder. Alvin had gone
over to check J.B.'s leg.  Rusty continued to grind her powerful thighs,
trapping Ethan's body in a vicious vice. He was having great difficulty
breathing, he was almost unconscious.  Rusty looked up from her task and
saw Alvin approaching. "You bitch, you broke my brother's leg. I'll fix
you for that!".  Rusty released Ethan from the crushing scissors and
scrambled to her feet. Ethan lay on the floor wheezing.  Rusty faced
Alvin, the biggest and meanest of the three. "How many times do I have
to tell you not to call me bitch. You're making me very angry."  Rusty
said to Alvin.  Alvin swung his huge fist at Rusty's head. If he had hit
her the fight would have been over right there, however she managed to
duck out of the way. Alvin leaped at her again. This time Rusty dropped
down and took out his legs with a rolling block.  Alvin sailed face
first into the bar hitting it with a loud thump. He was stunned. Rusty
quickly dragged him back about three feet, picked him up by the back of
his shirt and his belt. Her powerful muscles swelling and expanding with
effort, she swung him head first into the bar again. Blood was streaming
from several cuts on his head and forehead as he lay sprawled on the
floor.  Rusty heard Ethan getting to his feet and whirled around to meet
this new threat.  She stepped in and ripped her big right fist wrist
deep in his already tenderized middle.  The force of her heavy punch
lifted the big man up on his toes.  What breath he had been able to
regain whooshed out of his body with a loud grunt.  Her left fist
smashed straight into his nose breaking it and causing a large gush of
blood that splattered on her halter top.  Ethan was in severe pain. 
Rusty's right fist again plowed in to his soft gut. The only sound that
Ethan made was a soft "uunnnhhh" there was so little air left in his
body.  As he started to fold up Rusty brought her left around in a big
roundhouse swing that landed on his jaw with all the force her colossal
muscles could generate. The loud crack ended Ethan's conscious thought
and he fell at her feet like a sack of manure and never moved. Rusty
looked down at Ethan with his broken nose and broken jaw and said "I
told you not to call me a bitch.". His broken jaw and broken nose gave a
bizarre look to his face.  "One down" Rusty counted.  She turned to find
the other two brothers. J.B. was trying to hobble away from her. She
grabbed him and drove her knee directly up into his crotch. He screamed
and tried to curl up in a ball on the floor.  Rusty took his right arm
in both hands and pulled him to his feet. She extended it straight out
and began to twist it. The large muscles of her arms rippled with power
as she twisted the arm putting more and more pressure on it.  Finally it
could withstand no more and it snapped like a twig.  As J.B. opened his
mouth to scream from the pain, her hard knuckled fist crashed right in
his open mouth. The crunch of his teeth breaking filled the room. Rusty
caught him before he fell and held J.B. at arm's length with her left
hand locked in his shirt front. Slowly she cocked her lethal right fist
back and held it, enjoying the look of terror she could see in his eyes.
Then she launched that sledgehammer at his jaw. Nothing could stand up
to the raw power behind that fist. Rusty could feel the bone give way as
her fist landed on his jaw.  J.B. would feel no more pain for a while as
he was out like a light. Parts of four broken, stained teeth lay on the
floor next to him and his broken jaw wobbled with his shallow breathing.
"You shouldn't have called me a bitch either." she said as she looked
down at J.B. "Two down."  Alvin was up on his feet with blood streaming
down from the cuts on his head the bar had inflicted.  He picked up a
pool cue and crept up behind Rusty.  He hit her across the back with the
cue stick. She felt sharp pain in her back and shoulders. Alvin hit her
with the cue again, knocking her to the floor. He kicked her in the ribs
as she lay on the floor. Rusty crawled to her knees only to be met by a
vicious punch on her jaw from Alvin. She fell to the floor again. Alvin
tried to boot her in the ribs again, but Rusty managed to roll under the
pool table. Alvin tried to get at her with the pool cue, but he couldn't
reach her. As he finally dived under the table after her, Rusty slid out
the other side and got to her feet. Rusty waited for him to get out from
under the table. her boot flashed out and kicked the pool cue from his
hands as he came out on her side of the pool table. Rusty was able to
catch her breath as Alvin got to his feet. "You're the bastard who
wanted me, so come and get me. You should not have hit me with that pool
cue. Now you are going to pay dearly for that" she said to Alvin. He
lurched toward her. Rusty assumed a boxer's stance with both fists
raised. As Alvin got close enough she began to pepper his face with left
jabs, dancing around him. Even her jabs packed a wallop. His head rocked
back from the impact. Her fists beat a tattoo on Alvin's face, landing
about ten of those jabs. His nose was red, and there were marks around
each eye where her fist had landed.  Alvin tried to hit her taking a big
swing with his right. Rusty ducked under it and repeated the sequence
with her series of left jabs. Alvin's head snapped with each jab, and
his face was really starting to show the signs of her fist. Again, he
tried to end the fight by firing what he hoped would be a knockout
punch. Once more Rusty avoided it. This time she faked her left jab and
smashed her right directly on his left eye with much greater power than
she had been using with the jabs. The eye started to swell immediately.
It would be closed in just a matter of minutes. Rusty went right back to
her left jabs to his nose and the other eye. Alvin had been the most
vocal and the most vulgar of the Midgett brothers and Rusty wanted to
extend his punishment. After all, he had been the instigator of this
whole fiasco. She faked the jab again and brought her right fist up in a
vicious uppercut the slashed deep in his exposed gut. This time she had
learned her lesson. She jumped back as Alvin vomited in an explosive
burst. He dropped both hands to his wounded belly as he started to slide
to his knees. Rusty lambasted his right eye with a murderous left hook.
Alvin pitched forward from his knees to the floor sprawling in his own
vomit. Rusty grabbed his hair and yanked him up. "Oh, no, big boy, not
yet. Rusty is not through with you. I'll let you know when it is time to
go to sleep." She began to slap his face with her open right hand to
wake him up enough for him to see what was about to happen to him. His
left eye was now completely closed, a mass of black and purple and the
other one would be closed shortly. Alvin glared at her out of the slit
of his right eye that was still open slightly but closing fast. Rusty
shoved her large right fist right under his nose and said still in her
low soft voice, "Can you see this?"  She waved the fist in front of his
swollen right  eye. "Well, you're going to wish you never had."  She
drew it back behind her and turned her head to look at her own biceps
and triceps swollen with power ready to launch her fist to destroy the
rest of Alvin's face. She turned back to see her victim, and a feeling
of pure joy, and sexual excitement caused a shiver to pass through her
entire body. Her fist started forward. Alvin could barely see out of one
eye, but he saw that destructive fist coming and prayed for the first
time in his life. His prayer was not answered. Rusty's fist splatted
squarely on his nose squashing it to a pulp. A jet of blood flew through
the air and hit her chest and belly. Alvin's body would have fallen to
the floor if she had not held on to his shirt.  "Still not time for you
to go to sleep." Rusty said almost to herself because Alvin sure could
not hear her.  She repeated the slaps to his face to revive him. This
time it took several more than it had to elicit a response from him.
Finally he groaned and his head lifted up slightly. "I wanted you to
know that this is what should happen to all assholes like you who think
you can do anything you want to women."  The remaining patrons of the
tavern had been watching in shocked silence. That this beautiful woman
could be this brutal was beyond their comprehension. However, now the
two waitresses who had been abused by the Midgetts began a slow rhythmic
applause. Rusty looked at them and smiled and then centered her
attention on Alvin.  She wound up that big, hard, bloody right fist and
fired it like a missile at the point of Alvin's chin.  She got all of
her one hundred and seventy four pounds into it. This was a body that
could bench press three hundred and fifty pounds and curl two hundred
pound barbells. In no way could mere flesh and bone stand up to that
ferocious punch. Her concrete like fist smashed his chin with tremendous
impact.  It didn't just break, it disintegrated as that brutal fist
slammed home.  A horrible crackling, splintering sound filled the
tavern. The jaw hinges on both sides of his face at the TM joint were
knocked out of place. The bone at the point of his chin that joined both
jaws together and held them in place was split and broken  The teeth in
the middle of his lower jaw were smashed to bits and pieces. Rusty had
released her grip on him as she had started that prodigious blast and
Alvin sailed backward hit the floor and lay still. Rusty walked over to
him, stared down and said "You especially should not have called me a
bitch. You wanted this, so I hope you enjoyed it. That's three down." 
Rusty surveyed the three unconscious brothers. Out of the corner of her
eye she saw B.D. trying to sneak out the side door. "Hold it right
there, B.D." she said. "Don't make me chase you, it will only be worse
when I catch you."  B.D. stopped right where he was. "Come over here!"
Rusty commanded. With great trepidation B.D. slowly made his way over to
her.  Rusty put her arm around his shoulders and turned to the
bartender.  "Hold my jacket for a little while longer, will you hon?
B.D. and I are going outside to discuss a few things. Please don't
anybody follow us, we need our privacy. You might consider calling an
ambulance to haul out the garbage over there on the floor. She pointed
in the general direction of the three unconscious brothers sprawled out
on the floor.  Terry nodded his head still speechless from what he had
just witnessed.  Rusty kept her arm around B.D.'s shoulders and walked
him toward the door. As they were about to exit the entire bar gave her
a standing ovation. The Midgetts were well known bullies and the entire
town had been afraid of them. Now they had gotten what they deserved
from a very unexpected source.

Rusty walked B.D. down the sidewalk to a vacant lot half a block down
from the tavern where she halted.  B.D. was terrified of her.  She stood
there in the moonlight with the blood of his brothers covering her
halter top, chest and belly and staining her fists. "Wh-Wh-What are you
going to do with me." B.D. stammered. "I told you what would happen if
your brothers caused trouble because of what took place between us,
didn't I?"

B.D. was afraid to answer.  "You should have listened to me, B.D., and
not brought them to the tavern. Now look at them, they're going to wind
up in the hospital and it's all your fault." Rusty was speaking in a
soft conversational tone. "I really don't want to hurt you anymore,
B.D." she said. He saw a ray of hope but it was quickly dashed as she
continued. "However, what you did was bad so you must be punished. I
told you I would be very angry if I had to fight your brothers,
remember?"  He preferred not to remember.  "Now I have to come up with a
suitable punishment for you."  "P-P-Please don't h-hurt me anymore"  B.D.
begged.  He was so afraid of this woman he lost control of his bladder.
Urine was running down his pantsleg.  Rusty saw this and smiled. She
loved the anticipation of the beating almost as much as the beating
itself.  However, she was tiring of this cat and mouse game. She was
circling around B.D. as she spoke to him. She came to a stop right in
front of him but facing away from him toward the street. "Just give me a
minute, and I am sure I can think of something suitable."  Rusty
paused. "I could take it easy on you since I think you've learned your
lesson, haven't you?"  "Yes I have. I'll do anything you want." he said.
As she was speaking she was curling her fist into a hard mass of iron. As
she looked down at that fist she knew she could do anything she wanted
to and he would be powerless to stop her. "Yes, I could take it easy on
you, B.D., but I'm not!!"  As she was finishing her last sentence Rusty
was bending her knees and rotating her shoulders away from the petrified
man. Now she sprang! Driving with her massive legs, her hips and
shoulders rotated to supply even more power as her fist sped forward. 
With a sound like a mallet striking a side of beef, her fist went
burrowing deep into the pit of B.D.'s stomach. Her mighty punch lifted
him off his feet. When he touched down his legs would not support him,
and he dropped to his knees.  Rusty got out of the way just in time as
his dinner and all the whiskey he had been drinking came spewing out of
his mouth in a projectile spray of half digested food, and green mucoid
slime. He remained there until there was nothing left to come up, then
curled up at her feet fighting to breathe. Rusty reached down for him. 
"Come on darlin', you have to get up. We aren't finished yet."  His good
arm reached out and tried to push her hands away. She just smiled at him
again and lifted him to his feet.  He could not straighten up. That
vicious blast to his already damaged stomach had him in severe pain. 
"Time for the second installment" Rusty whispered in his ear as she held
him up with both hands.  This time she released her left hand and rolled
it into the twin of the fist she had just hit him with, big, iron hard,
and caked with Midgett blood.  B.D. was trying to beg but all he could
do was make croaking sounds. Rusty drove with her big legs again to get
more power and ripped her fist up into his stomach. His entire body
shuddered from the impact and he tried to vomit again but there was
nothing left to come up.  Now blood was coming out of his mouth and
dripping down on Rusty's hand and wrist.  She let him sink to the ground
for a few minutes as she heard activity at the tavern location and
looked to see what was going on.  She saw police cars and an ambulance
pull up in front of the tavern.  "Good news, honey", she said to the
moaning B.D.. "Your ride is here so you won't have to drive your truck
to the clinic."  She helped him up again. B.D. was still hunched over
holding his belly.  "Can you walk?" she asked, still supporting him.
B.D. was making those same croaking sounds but nodded his head in the
affirmative. "You won't be able to in a second", she sighed.  Before he
could comprehend the consequences of what she had said he heard "Third
installment".  Rusty unloaded a punch of unbelievable ferocity.  Her
fist completely disappeared in his stomach.  B.D. was once again lifted
up in the air. He could make no sound as all the air was punched out of
him by that awful fist. He collapsed to the ground at her feet out cold
with bits of his own vomit stuck to his face and his blood flowing out
of his mouth. "Now that was a gut punch, B.D.. I want to thank you for
providing the entertainment for the evening."  Rusty said gazing down at
her latest member of the Midgett clan to be her victim.  She saw that
the police and the ambulance were still at the tavern. She knew that
B.D. wasn't going to be awake and moving anytime soon so she walked to
her motel room.  When she got there she looked up the number of the
tavern an placed the call. She got Terry on the phone.  "Hi, sweetheart,
know who this is?". "My God, lady, do you know that this place is
crazy? These guys are a real mess. Blood is everywhere. They have
broken noses, and jaws. Alvin's chin is completely shattered. Teeth are
all over the floor. We've never seen anything like this. Who the hell
are you, anyway?  You might like to know that everybody here told the
cops that the Midgetts attacked you, and all this is self defense. 
Nobody liked them. They were bullies, always hassling folks here and
harassing the women.  We're glad to see them get what you gave them." 
He was talking a mile a minute. "Slow down, cutie. Tell the ambulance
guys that they need to go to the vacant lot, down the street and get
B.D. He seems to be taking a nap there. Do you still have my jacket?" 
"You can pick it up anytime you want to. It is here under the bar.  "I
have something else in mind." Rusty said. "If you bring it over to me at
the Ramada Inn, I'll make it worth your while. I'm in room 117." 
"Sure, I'll drop it off in about an hour and a half after we close."
Terry said. "I'll be waiting."  Rusty told him.

Terry had secretly always admired muscular women. He had picked up any
magazine he could find with pictures or stories about muscular females
or bodybuilders. He had gotten an immediate erection when Rusty first
removed her jacket and he saw her physique.  When she began beating the
Midgetts to a pulp, he got even harder.  When she sank her fist deep in
Ethan's belly the first time he couldn't hold back and creamed in his
pants.  When she landed that bone shattering last punch to Alvin's chin,
he did it again.  As soon as she left the tavern with B.D. he rushed to
the back room and changed clothes. He kept a complete change there
because accidents were frequent with spilled food or drinks. When she
asked him to bring the jacket to her he was both thrilled and
frightened.  He had never seen such savagery and brutality displayed and
it blew his mind that it was this heart stoppingly beautiful, muscle
babe who had done it.  For him the time seemed to drag by as the
paramedics attempted to put the Midgetts back together and the police
officers questioned the remaining patrons and the waitresses. 


Rusty was still pumped up with adrenaline when she hung up the phone. 
She ran a tub full of water in the bathroom and sat down to soak and
relax. Her halter top had been ruined. It was soaked with so much
Midgett blood it would be impossible to get it all out. She washed her
hands getting the blood off her knuckles, then washed her chest and
belly which had also been hit with the spurts of blood from the three
brothers.  She finally began to relax as she laid back in the tub and
let the hot water soothe her body.  At last she got out of the tub,
dried off, and put on the Ramada Inn robe hanging on the door of the
bathroom.  She turned down the bed and waited for the arrival of Terry
the bartender. Her mind drifted to other times and her one love affair.
Her reverie was interrupted by a timid sounding knock on the door.

Rusty opened the door of her room and saw Terry standing there holding
her jacket extended toward her in both arms.  "Here is your jacket, I
tried to take very good care of it" Terry said to her in a small voice. 
Rusty reached out and took the jacket, but she grasped his hands in
hers. "You aren't getting off that easily." she said.  "Come on in for a
few minutes."  She almost dragged him in to the room.  Terry saw the bed
was turned down. About the same time Rusty said "Fighting always makes
me horny. I hope you don't have any plans for the rest of the night!"
She covered his lips with hers in a long lingering kiss. She pushed
him back on the bed and straddled him.  "Kiss my breasts" she commanded
opening the top of the robe.  Terry was both very stimulated and very
scared. He began to kiss and suck on her sizable breasts. They were
certainly more than a mouthful. He worked his tongue around her nipples. 
He stopped to catch his breath. "Don't you dare stop now!" Rusty said
huskily.  She tapped her right fist lightly against his jaw. "I might
get mad if you stop, and you know what that means". However she said
this with a smile.  Terry saw her fist up close. He couldn't believe how
big and hard it looked. Seeing it from that distance it looked like an
anvil. He could understand how it and its twin on the other hand had
destroyed the Midgetts.  He could clearly see the skinned knuckles and
he knew all too well how that had happened.  He took that fist in both
hands and moved it to his lips. he began kissing it and licking each
ridge of knuckle.  Rusty found that to be unbelievably sensual.  She
reached back and took his rigid member in her other hand and began to
stroke it. "Don't you dare cum before I tell you" she whispered. She
climbed off the bed and removed the robe.  Terry gasped. His dream girl
was standing right in front of him.  Her muscles flexed and rippled as
she strode back to the bed. He couldn't take his eyes from her fantastic
body.  Her massive thighs clenched and flexed as she walked.  Terry
thought he was in heaven.  Rusty straddled him again completely nude. 
"Where were we?" she asked playfully.  She ripped his pants off, and his
cock stood straight up, his salute to her.  "I see you must like women
with muscles!"  She mounted him and he went all the way to the hilt in
her wet cunt. Rusty began to move up and down slowly. Her vaginal
muscles tightened on his rod.  Even her vaginal muscles were strong he
thought as she gripped him and began milking him. She increased the
pace of her movements.  Terry was just trying to hang on. This
wonderful, terrifying, beautiful woman was giving him the ride of his
life. Rusty now was moving frantically.  Suddenly she stiffened as her
climax hit.  A split second later Terry had the longest and best orgasm
that he had ever experienced. Rusty left the bed and headed for the
bathroom. When she came out, Terry marveled at that fabulous body again.

"That was fantastic!" Terry said. "I still can't get over what you did
to the Midgett brothers. The whole town was afraid of them. They were
bullies and used to beat up people just for the hell of it. Everybody
knows they are involved in the whiskey business, but we were all too
afraid to do anything about it. Then you came along and just wiped out
the whole clan. At first I was sure you were going to be another victim
of theirs.  When you took off your jacket and I got a good look at you,
I thought you might have a chance. I am embarrassed that I was to
chicken to offer to help you. Of, course it turned out that you didn't
need any help.  I hate to admit it but I was really turned on by what
you did. When I saw your fist disappear in Ethan's belly, I creamed
myself. By the way, the paramedics had to try to tape Alvin's face
together just to get him to the clinic. I've seen a lot of fights but
I've never seen anything like what you did tonight. I'm sorry, I seem to
be rambling on, don't I?"  Rusty smiled at him. "You better save your
breath and your energy. You're going to need them both. Are you ready
for round 2?".  "I sure hope so" he replied as she reached for him and
pulled him to her breasts again. The whole night went like that. At last
they dropped into a deep sleep.  Rusty awoke early the next morning,
quietly got dressed and after writing a quick note for Terry, left the
room. She paid her bill, grabbed a quick breakfast in the motel dining
room, and walked to Martin's Auto Parts.  The clerk was there already.
The part had come in from Lexington and it only took a few minutes to
install it.  Rusty paid him and prepared to leave.  The word of what
happened last night must have made the rounds because he couldn't keep
his eyes off of her and he stuttered and stammered a lot. Rusty mounted
her Harley and headed out of town. As she halted at a traffic signal,
she saw the morning newspaper and the headline caught her eye.  She
dropped a quarter in the machine and removed a paper. The headlines
read: "Wild Fracas at the Cairo Bend Tavern. A young red haired woman
was attacked last night by the Midgett brothers, well known local tough
guys and suspected whiskey runners. When the fight was over, All of the
Midgetts were hauled away in an ambulance. Ethan, the oldest and the
head of the clan, had a broken jaw and a broken nose. J.B. The third
brother had a broken kneecap, a broken arm, a broken jaw and four teeth
knocked out. Alvin the youngest and biggest suffered the worst injuries.
Both eyes were damaged and swollen shut, and one zygomatic bone broken,
his nose was broken, both jaws dislocated, and his chin shattered. B.D.
the second oldest, was found in a vacant lot just down the street from
the tavern hemorrhaging from the mouth with suspected internal injuries.
The attractive redhead disappeared right after the ruckus. She is not
being sought by the police since every patron at the tavern testified
that the Midgetts had indeed initiated the fracas, and she fought in
self defense.  Considering the reputation that the Midgetts have, the
town owes her a vote of thanks. The Midgetts were transported to the
Cairo Bend Clinic, but their injuries were so extensive that they could
not be treated here and were transported to University Hospital in
Lexington, where the proper specialists are available to give proper
treatment to their injuries.  All three of the brothers involved in the
fight in the tavern will require extensive maxillo-facial surgery and
oral surgery for their faces and teeth. B.D. Midgett the only brother
not directly involved in the tavern fight will need surgical repair of
internal injuries. From all reports the young woman escaped with minimal
injuries if any. Since the fight there has been no sign of the
whereabouts of the red haired woman.".  Rusty grinned as she read the
newspaper account or her latest adventure. She stuck the paper in her
saddlebags and headed out of town.

About the time Rusty was buying the newspaper, Terry was waking up in
the Ramada Inn room. At first he thought that Rusty was in the bathroom,
and called out to her. When there was no answer, he got out of bed and
went to look for himself. There was no sign of her. As he checked around
the motel room, he saw that her clothes were gone, and there was a motel
stationary envelope with his name on it.  He opened it and took out the
single folded sheet of paper inside. "Hi, cutiepie. By the time you read
this I will be long gone. I want to thank you for last night, it was
terrific. I hope that I was not too hard on you. Do not try to find me,
it could be very dangerous for you.  Who knows, I might be back this way
again sometime.  I don't think B.D. and his brothers will cause any more
trouble for residents of your town.  I don't think they'll be out of the
hospital anytime soon. Take care of yourself. Goodbye, Rusty." Terry sat
on the bed for a long time holding the letter. He had found the woman of
his dreams and it turned out to be a one night stand. "I'm afraid she
had ruined all other women for me. God, what a woman."  He got dressed
and left the room. Rusty was out of his life, but she would never be out
of his mind.

[Chainer★]

The Road Trip Part 2
By Arby
Rusty takes on the Bayou Devils

The highway wound through the gentle rolling hills of the Mississippi
countryside to give way to the flat, fertile farmland on its way to the delta
country and then across to New Orleans.  A solitary motorcycle made its way at
a leisurely pace, the rider enjoying the scenery.  The roar of approaching
engines caused the cyclist to turn and look back.  A group of twenty five or so
motorcycles were closing rapidly and the cyclist pulled over to let them pass. 
As they zoomed by the lettering on their vests and jackets was clearly visible,
"Bayou Devils" it read.  Everyone had heard of them.  They were the toughest
motorcycle gang in three states.  They were rumored to be heavily involved in
the narcotics trade in the south and their reputation for violence was well
deserved.  Several murders and beatings had been attributed to them over the
years, but no had been willing to testify, therefore no charges had been filed
against them.  At this time they were far from their bases of operations which
were New Orleans and Biloxi unless they were on a road trip, or had some
specific reason for being in this sparsely populated area of the state.  The rider
shrugged and after they had passed by, started up the Harley-Davidson and
resumed travel.  Checking the time on a handsome Rolex watch, the cyclist
noted that it was slightly after one o'clock in the afternoon.  "No wonder I'm
hungry. There has to be a place to eat around here somewhere"  A few minutes
a diner appeared in the distance.  However as the Harley got closer, the
motorcycles of the Bayou Devils were parked outside.  Not wanting to take a
chance on having a problem with the bikers the cyclist moved on.  About twenty
minutes later another roadside diner was in sight.  The parking area was nearly
empty so the rider pulled in, removed the darkly tinted helmet and left it on the
seat of the Harley.  The famished rider entered the cafe. 

The cyclist had just placed the lunch order when the sound of several engines
was heard in the parking lot.  The Bayou Devils had arrived.  As they
dismounted they noticed the Harley in the parking lot and noted that it was the
same one they and passed earlier.  The rowdy bikers entered the diner with their
leader Big Ed McCauley in front. His name didn't do justice to him.  He was six
feet five inches tall and weighed in at two hundred and sixty pounds.  He was
wearing a Bayou Devils vest over a dirty tee shirt, jeans and motorcycle boots. 
He had a dark beard that looked like it hadn't been trimmed in quite a while.  He
was the leader because he was the meanest and toughest man in a very mean
and tough gang.  Right up in the front with him was his current woman, Carla
Lopez.  She held that position because she had beaten his former girlfriend to a
bloody pulp in front of the whole gang.  She was attractive in a hard sort of
way, with long black hair, that for now was in a ponytail.  Carla was a big girl,
5'9" tall and about one hundred fifty pounds.  She also had a reputation as quite
a brawler and most of the men in the gang would be afraid to take her on.  She
wore a cut off tank top and jeans with motorcycle boots.  The red bandanna
around her head gave her almost an Indian look.  Big Ed's eyes scanned the
diner.  He immediately spotted the owner of the Harley sitting at the lunch
counter.  Without the helmet, long red hair fell down over wide shoulders and
back halfway to the waist.  "Well, I'll be damned. It's a woman, and a damn
purty one at that.  We'll have to check her out after we eat."  Carla's eyes
narrowed at that comment.  She was very jealous as well as hot tempered.  One
of the bikers spoke up.  "I hope this place is better than the one up the road, or
we'll have to trash this one too."  The bikers made their way to the tables in
back, and immediately began to give the waitresses a hard time.  As they ate,
Big Ed couldn't keep his eyes or his conversation off the redhead at the counter.
Finally Carla had heard and seen enough.  She always went after any woman
who eyed Big Ed or vice versa.  She strode purposefully to the counter.  "It's
time for you to move on, Red.  Your presence is not needed here anymore.". 
Without turning the woman replied, "I'm leaving as soon as I finish my lunch." 
"You're finished now!" Carla snapped.  She reached out and knocked the plate
off the counter, breaking the plate and spilling its contents all over the floor
behind the counter.  "I wish you hadn't done that."  the redhead said in a low
voice. 

"If you didn't like that, you're definitely not gonna like this!" Carla was shouting
now.  All eyes were on the two women.  The Devils sat back in anticipation of
Carla wiping up the floor with another victim.  Carla lunged with both hands at
the woman's long red hair.  Her hands never reached their destination.  The
woman spun off the counter stool in a crouch and brought her left fist up in a
powerful uppercut that landed squarely in the middle of Carla's bare belly.  The
redhead stepped into the punch getting her body behind it, and her fist buried
deep in Carla's unprepared gut.  Carla's mouth and eyes flew wide open in
shock.  She fell first to her knees, then flopped on her face.  The lunch she had
been eating only minutes before came right back up.  Carla was lying face down
in her own puke. She was unable to move the pain caused by the redhead's hard
fist was so paralyzing.  The bikers saw when she was standing upright, the
redhead  was bigger than Carla.  The woman stepped around the prone Carla
and spoke to the group in her same low voice, "You guys should check your
food.  Something seems to have upset her stomach."  The tension in the room
grew thick as the gang tried to figure out their next move.  It was one of the
bikers seated by the windows who broke the silence.  "Holy shit! That little
local yokel cop is writin' tickets on all our bikes!".  Big Ed rose from his seat as
did all the bikers.  "Let's go.  We'll take care of that lil' sumbitch.  Some of you
take care of Carla."  He eyed the redhead.  "Maybe next time, Red." he said. 
"Any time at all, big man." the woman replied. "Bye the way, the name's not
Red. Its Rusty."  Two bikers lifted the semi-conscious Carla out of the pool of
vomit and half carried, half dragged her out the door. 

Big Ed approached the police officer who was busily writing tickets.  He was a
young man in his middle twenties.  "Boy, don't you know who we are?" Big Ed
asked.  "Sure I do."  the officer replied.  "Everybody knows who you are.  You
think you can come up here, do whatever you want, terrorize the whole county.
I might not be able to get the goods on you for anything else right now, but at
least you'll have to pay these parking tickets.  I'll be watching you, and if you
take one step over the line, I'll nail you."  As Big was keeping the cop's
attention one of the bikers, holding a monkey wrench, had sneaked up behind
the officer.  Big Ed nodded and the man brought the wrench crashing down on
the officer's head.  He dropped, out cold.  The bikers grabbed him, slung him
over one of the motorcycles and took off.

Rusty had been watching the scenario play out through the window.  The
counter waitress had come over next to her.  The waitress, a middle-aged
woman was in awe.  She was amazed by the size of the redhead as she stood
beside her.  "Where in the world did you learn to punch like that?" she asked. "I
thought your fist was goin' all the way through her and come out the other side.
What a punch!"  A small smile tugged the corners of Rusty's mouth.  "It did
feel awful good, I must admit.  Sorry 'bout the mess, though"  "That was worth
cleanin' up a dozen messes.  You'd better be careful though.  That's a real mean
bunch and that bitch that you slugged is the leader's woman."  As they talked
they watched the action in the parking lot.  When the biker hit the cop over the
head, Rusty told the waitress to call the cops.  The owner came out of the
kitchen.  "No chance!" he said.  If they find out who turned them in, they'll
come back here and burn this place to the ground.  No calls!".   "You deserve
whatever they do to you." Rusty said.

She got on the Harley and started up the road in the same direction that the
Bayou Devils had taken.  She was thinking that she needed to find a place to
call the police.   Not that Rusty had any great love for the law.  She just hated
to see the bikers get away with what they had done.  She knew that the young
officer, if he wasn't already dead from the blow to the head, was in for a very
long and painful day and night at the hands of the bikers. 

The reason that Rusty had no love for the law was that she would most likely be
classified as a criminal if the authorities found out how she earned her living. 
She worked as a collector for a loan shark.  She had put many borrowers in the
hospital for being late with payments.  She had been so efficient and so feared
that now, no one missed payments.  Her boss paid her very well and she had a
trust fund from her parents who had been killed in a plane crash, so money was
not a problem.  She admitted she loved her work.  Rusty could be charming,
loving, and friendly, but when crossed or aroused she had a mean streak a mile
wide.  A lot of people had found that out the hard way, and on occasionally she
beat up someone just for the hell of it.  At first glance, it seemed impossible that
this could be the woman just described.  She had long, red hair, model good
looks with high cheekbones, full lips, an aquiline nose, and ice blue eyes.  A
sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose added a little girl look that
added rather than detracted from her beauty.  The rest of the package is what
provides the surprise.  She was tall, 5'10" and strong. 

She had natural size and strength.  When she chose her lifestyle, she decided to
get as big and strong as possible.  She stared a vigorous exercise and weight
lifting program.  The results of that program were amazing.  Muscles bulged
from every part of her body.  She had broad shoulders, a wide back tapering to
a miniscule, hard waist.  Large, perfectly formed breasts were mounted on a
slab of striated chest muscle.  That seemed to be the first thing men noticed
about her.  However, it was her arms that generated the most gasps and stares. 
They were huge mounds of muscle that when flexed would expand to well over
nineteen inches.  Her weight now was a constant one hundred seventy four
pounds.  She knew that only about five percent of all women had the potential
to achieve the muscular development that she had worked so hard to get, and
most of them tried very hard to hide what muscle they did have.  Truly, only a
very few would attempt to take their development to the point that Rusty had. 
Those exceptions appeared to be the female body builders.  She thought  what a
pity.  All in all she was an exceptional combination of beauty and power, and on
top of that sex appeal practically oozed from every pore of her body.  She had
discovered that many men were truly fascinated and turned on by a beautiful
woman with muscles.  She had never had a shortage of men who were
infatuated with her.  She reveled in her muscles, loving to show them off.  Her
muscularity, her beauty, and her sex appeal made Rusty a very unique woman.
She also loved to fight.  There was something primeval about pitting her
strength and skill against another person.  She found smashing her victim with
her fists to be very sexually stimulating and exciting.  She had rather large hands
which were not immediately noticeable on a woman of her size until they were
curled into fists, then  they became exceptionally big, hard instruments capable
of dealing extreme pain and misery.  She loved to use them and was very good
at it.   Her present job allowed her to this to her heart's content.

Rusty was on a long vacation.  She had decided to travel around the country on
her motorcycle, and presently was on her way to New Orleans.  She had a wild
adventure in Kentucky on her way south and now it looked like she could
become embroiled in another with very little effort.  She couldn't explain why
she felt the need to insert herself into the equation, but she could feel herself
being drawn in. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to, but she just couldn't
stay out of it.

As she searched for a place with a phone to call the police she heard the sounds
of motorcycle engines coming from the woods off to her left.  She stopped and
listened for a few minutes.  This was unmistakably the Bayou Devils.  Rusty
concealed her Harley in the heavy bushes off the road and crept through the
heavily wooded area to a clearing where the gang had gathered.  It was almost
circular with a slight embankment at one end sloping down to a small stream
that ran across the narrow end.  She could see that the police officer was in big
trouble.  They had tied him spreadeagled between two trees with his arms and
legs stretched as far out to his sides as they could reach.  Rusty crawled closer
to try to find out what was going on.  The cop looked like he had been beaten
up some already.

A group of bikers stood in front of him.  "Let's give him to the girls for a while."
one of them said.  "They deserve to have some fun too.".  The men withdrew
and Carla and two other women came over.  "They sure didn't do you any
favor." a short, squat blonde said.  She drove her thick knee right up between
his legs.  Since he was gagged, no sound came out but it was clear that he was
in great pain.  The blonde repeated the action several times with the cop
writhing in pain each time.  The next woman replaced the blonde.  She was a
tall, thin Hispanic looking woman with long bright red fingernails.  She dragged
those nails across his chest leaving a trail of long bloody furrows.  She moved to
his face and again dragged her long, sharp nails down first his left cheek, then
the right.  Again, long bloody furrows ran down each cheek.  Carla replaced
her.  She spoke to the officer and her voice floated over very faintly on the
slight breeze.  "I'm gonna give a big dose of what I got earlier today." she said. 
She plunged her right fist deep into his defenseless belly.  The way he was tied
there was very little give to the ropes.  Carla was a big, strong girl who knew
how to throw a punch.  He was hurt badly.  Carla slugged away at his gut,
alternating lefts and rights.  The man's body jerked against the ropes.  After
several punches, Carla finally stopped.  The cop's unconscious body slumped in
the ropes.  The gang all laughed as Carla strutted around like a boxer who just
scored a K.O..  Big Ed called all the Bayou Devils together.

Rusty leaned forward to hear him.  "This is the designated drop zone.  That
shipment has to be here somewhere.  The plane flew over two hours ago and
those guys are pretty accurate when they drop a shipment.  All of you get out
and search the area.  That stuff is worth a lot of money so make sure that the
locals don't see you because we don't need anybody nosin' around askin'
questions.  Do not come back without the shipment.  I'll keep Carla and Skink
here with me.  The rest of you take off.  The gang mounted up and scattered
out to begin their search.  Rusty understood what they were doing in an isolated
rural area.  It was the ideal spot for drug drops with just the local police to
worry about.  By the time they figured out what was going on the drop would
simply move to another location.  The clearing was empty except for Big Ed,
Carla and the biker Ed had called Skink.  Skink was tall and thin, his body
covered with tattoos.  He kept nervously looking around, his head on a swivel. 
Rusty returned to her bike and took a small box out of her saddlebags.  "I never
thought I would need this again, but today it might come in handy.".  Skink was
the lookout.  He was pacing around the clearing when he heard footsteps
coming from the wooded area.  He turned and saw the gorgeous redhead from
the diner walking calmly into the clearing carrying a small box.  "Hi there,
goodlookin", Rusty greeted him. 

Before she could say more, Carla came racing over.  Big Ed sauntered over well
behind her.

Carla was mad.  "You sorry assed whore, you sucker-punched me back at that
diner. I'm gonna bust you up!  Red, you're gonna regret the day you ever saw
me.".  Rusty eyed her coolly. "Carla, that's your name isn't it? Well Carla, I'm
bigger than you, I'm stronger than you, and I'm a hell of a lot meaner than you. 
I'm also what they call a heavy hitter.  That lil' punch back at the diner was just
a love tap compared to the way I usually hit. If you know what's good for you
just back off and let me talk to the big man here."  "I'm gonna beat your
redheaded ass to a pulp" Carla shouted.  "I usually don't fight other women, but
in your case I'll be happy to make an exception." Rusty told Carla. 

Big Ed stepped in.  "Babe are you sure you want to do this?  She nailed you 
good before.  She's purty big."  Rusty was an inch taller, almost twenty five
pounds heavier and it was all muscle which they did not know at the time. 
Carla had never lost a fight to another woman so her confidence level was high.
"You stay out of this Ed. It's between this bitch and me."  Suddenly Carla
leaped at Rusty and this time managed to get both hands entwined in her hair. 
"O.K. Red, I've got you now!", Carla crowed.  They were belly to belly, chest
to chest, tit to tit.  Rusty enclosed Carla's body in her big arms and began to
squeeze.  At first Carla continued to rip at Rusty's hair, but as the pressure
began to build she stopped that and clawed at the iron arms that were crushing
her ribs and forcing the air from her lungs.  Carla thrashed around desperately
trying to pry the terrible force from those powerful arms loose that were
breaking her ribs and collapsing her lungs.  Her chest was on fire.  Rusty kept
applying the agonizing bearhug for several more seconds that must have seemed
like hours to Carla.  Right before Carla passed out, the pressure was lifted as
Rusty released the hold.  Carla fell to the ground holding her rips and gasping
for breath.  Rusty leaned down and spoke so that only Carla could hear her.
"Now comes a little payback for the cop.".  She got the gasping Carla to her
feet.  It seemed like deja vu as Rusty duplicated the punch that she had hit Carla
with at the diner.  Her left fist came up in a vicious uppercut that slammed into
the center of Carla's bare belly and disappeared from sight as it bored deep
inside the biker girl.  Carla was driven up in the air, fell to her knees and started
to puke just as she had done in the diner.  When she had finished, Rusty
dragged her up again.  "You don't get off so easily this time."  Rusty told her. 
This time it was her big right fist that looped around and buried in Carla's gut. 
Up off the ground she went again, to her knees then face down on the ground. 
Before Big or Skink could interfere Rusty had Carla back on her feet.  She held
the biker up with her left hand wrapped in her tank top for a few seconds.  "I
told you I was a heavy hitter. You're about to find out how heavy!"  Rusty
released Carla with her left hand and brought up a full strength uppercut with
her right fist to the center of Carla's gut with everything she could get into it. 
Blood spurted from her mouth.  The brutal punch jackknifed Carla so severely
that as her feet went up and straight out her head snapping down almost went
between them.  It looked like slow motion with Carla suspended in the air with
only the momentum of Rusty's big fist holding her up.  She collapsed like a rag
doll and lay still, face down in her own vomit again.  the whole fight, if you
could call it that had lasted less than two minutes from the time Carla grabbed
Rusty's hair, until she was a demolished pile of rubble sprawled in her own
puke.  Big Ed and Skink were mesmerized by what they were watching.  Now
they galvanized into action.

"Dammit Red, you didn't have to do that. Now we're gonna have to mess you
up some." Big Ed said.  "This wasn't my idea, you know.  I tried to warn her
but she was too pigheaded to listen, so she had to suffer the consequences." 
Rusty replied.  "And how many times do I have to tell you my name is not Red,
it's Rusty.  By the way, your girlfriend must have a really weak stomach.  She
keeps puking all the time."  "We've had enough of your smart ass remarks,
Red." Big Ed snapped.  "Do you want her Skink?"  "Oh yeah, I sure do." Skink
replied. The lanky biker moved toward Rusty.  He was about 6'2" but weighed
no more than Rusty's one hundred seventy four pounds.  He was wearing a
muscle shirt that showed off all his tattoos that covered his body.  As he got
close to Rusty he drew a nasty looking knife with a blade that was at least eight
inches long.  "I'll open up Miss Smart Ass and see what her insides look like."
he said.  He handled the blade like he had a great deal of experience with it.  As
Skink advanced, Rusty backed away.  He made several slashes at her with the
knife, getting closer each time.  He nicked her white belly just under her cut off
tee shirt leaving a streak of red across her skin.  With his next thrust Rusty
managed to grab his knife hand.  As they struggled over the knife she jerked him
forward to meet her knee rising to his crotch.  Three times her knee slammed
into his nuts.  His grip on the knife weakened as a wave of nausea flooded  his
body.  Rusty drove her other knee into his ribcage.  She could feel the ribs give
way.  She was able to wrest the knife away from him.  The redhead stepped
back with the knife held out in front of her the blade pointed at Skink.  They
stood about five feet apart glaring at each other.  Rusty reversed the knife and
brought it up to a throwing position.  Skink instinctively ducked, but Rusty
threw the knife at one of the trees to which the police officer was tied.  The
blade imbedded deep in the tree and quivered there.  "I was never much good
with a blade" Rusty said to Skink with a smile, even though her actions belied
her words.  "If you still want me butthead, come and get me."  she said.  She
motioned him forward with her hands. While they were circling each other
looking for an opening the sound of approaching motorcycles filled the air.  "I
need to finish this geek off in a hurry." Rusty thought.

Skink, thinking she was distracted by the approaching gang, sprang at her. 
Rusty pivoted and brought her right fist around in a monstrous punch that
smashed right in the middle of Skink's face.  An awful crunching, crackling
sound filled the clearing.  Skink's forward motion came to an abrupt halt, his
body resembling a puppet whose strings had been cut all disjointed and flopping
around.  His nose had been broken, his upper lip split and torn and several
upper teeth knocked out, all from this one colossal punch.  He lay on the
ground with blood pouring from his nose, his lip and his mouth.  Rusty spun
around as the first members of the gang entered the clearing.  In the blink of an
eye the clearing was filled with Bayou Devils.  Rusty had been in tight spots
before, but nothing like this.  There was no way she could take on the whole
gang and live to tell about it.  Then she spotted the box she had brought with
her, and a plan began to form in her  mind.  The gang formed a circle as they
rode in.  The only occupants of the circle were Rusty and the unconscious
bodies of Carla and Skink.  Big Ed walked slowly through the ring of bikers 
"You're in a heap o' trouble now, Red.  I will say it took a lot a' guts to come in
here like you did. I sorta hate the fact that we have to fuck you up for what you
did to Carla and Skink.  It really is too bad, you bein' such a looker n' all."   
Rusty opened up the box she was holding.  She reached in and pulled out a
sleeveless denim vest carrying the name and colors of one of the best known
motorcycle gangs in the country.  She removed her jacket and put on the vest. 
There were several oohs and aahs from the Devils as the expressed their
surprise both that she was a member of the Outlaws, a nationally recognized
gang, and when they saw her impressive physique for the first time.  "I was with
the Outlaws for quite a while." she said.  "I know that the laws that everyone
else obeys don't apply to us.  But we have out own code of conduct that we live
by.  That is why according to that code that I challenge you, Big Ed to a one on
one fight for both my freedom and the police officer over there." she gestured
toward the police officer spreadeagled between the trees.  One of the newest
bikers turned to the oldtimer next to him, "Can she do that? Can she challenge
Big Ed to fight her like that?"  "She sure can." the oldtimer replied.  "If Big Ed
accepts he has the choice of weapons or no weapons at all. I don't think he's too
worried. He has never lost a fight in his life".  "What if he refuses?" the rookie
asked again.  "He really can't refuse. If he does he will lose face with the Bayou
Devils and be replaced as leader and then the woman can just take the cop and
leave and no one can stop them. I know Big Ed won't let that happen.  By being
a member of the Outlaws and challenging Big Ed she found a way out.  That is
if you consider being beaten senseless or worse a way out.  She knows if she
wins, she and the cop will be free to leave and we can't stop them.  If she loses,
she belongs to us, and we can do anything to her we want.  For starters that
usually means every guy here can fuck her as many times as he wants, then it
gets worse.  But that would have happened to her anyway so she had nothin' to
lose by challengin' Big Ed. 

Big Ed was pissed off about being put on the spot.  He knew that he had to
accept the redhead's challenge so he was trying to decide whether to use
weapons or not. He was very good with a knife but he had seen the way she
handled Skink's knife and it looked like she was no stranger to knife fighting.  If
she had been with the Outlaws as she claimed she was probably good with all
weapons.  When Ed looked at the woman's body with its big shoulders, huge
arms, wide back, and slim hard belly, he wished that he had taken better care of
himself.  She looked like she was carved out of white marble.  However, Big Ed
was strong as a bull and was six inches taller and nearly ninety pounds heavier,
even if his beer gut would slow him down a little.  He thought that if he used a
weapon and she had any skill with it at all he was simply evening the odds for
his smaller opponent.  He should use his size advantage to his benefit.  He had
earned his reputation as a fierce fighter having never lost a fight in his life.  He
made his decision.  "O.K. Red, I'll fight you. No weapons, just you and me.  I
haven't had any real fun in a long time. I'm going to make you beg me to fuck
you before I'm done with you."  The woman stared levelly at him.  "I'm getting
sick of telling you my name's not Red, it's Rusty.  You'll know it before this day
is over, and I'll make you eat my pussy before we're through.".  A murmur ran
through the gang with this exchange.  The rookie nudged his cohort in the ribs. 
"Big Ed is a lot larger than her, but look at those arms.  They're as big as his." 
The older biker took a closer look at the woman and saw that the rookie was
right.  Her arms hanging down from the Outlaw's vest were alive with big, hard,
rippling muscle.  "Hell" he said.  "They might ever be bigger than Ed's.
He may have more of a problem than he thinks.  Big Ed turned to the gang. 
"Some of you come over here and get Carla and Skink out of the way so I won't
trip over them while I take care of Red, here."  Four bikers came forward, two
for each unconscious body.  The two who picked up Skink blanched when they
saw his face.  "Careful there, bro.  Jesus would you look at that?  His face is
busted.  Pick up those teeth, Skink may want to try to have them put back in.
Never mind the broken ones though.  God, what a mess!"  The two with Carla
were having a similar conversation. She was sprawled out on the ground
looking very pale and her breathing was very shallow.  Blood was still dribbling
out of her mouth and mixing with the vomit on the ground.  "Look out where
you step, man.  There's puke everywhere. Handle her real careful, she must have
somethin' busted inside the way she's spittin' up blood like that.".  The four
bikers gently removed their fallen comrades from the circle.  Big Ed removed
his jacket, sunglasses, and finally his shirt, standing there in just his jeans and
boots. He was an imposing figure, a big man with plenty of muscle.  His beer
gut didn't look like it would cause him much of a problem.  Rusty removed her
Outlaw's vest and stood ready in a cropped tee shirt that did little to hide her
amazing muscular development or her large, succulent breasts.

An unusual confrontation was about to take place.  A huge man, Big Ed,
preparing to fight a woman, in this case a beautiful redhead.  Sizing up the two
combatants, this should be no contest. Big Ed dwarfed the woman.  This
unlikely battle was about to get under way.  Big Ed was working up to the
actual fight by telling the woman all the mean and nasty things he intended to do
to her.  Rusty simply stood there waiting for him to finish.  Big Ed continued his
tirade.  "Get ready, Red.  You're gonna get what's comin' to you  for bustin' up
Carla and Skink the way you did.  "Thank God," Rusty replied.  "I thought you
meant to talk me to death".  Big Ed let out a roar.  He held up his huge right fist
and said "This is the "Crusher" whore.  When it hits you, you'll know how it got
that name.".   Rusty thought, "Damn, it looks as big as a house.  I'd better stay
away from that." but she said "You've gone from calling me Red to calling me
whore.  I can hardly wait to hear what's next.  Goddess would be nice.".  Big Ed
was infuriated at not being able to intimidate this woman with his macho
posturing.  She stood her ground and eyed him with a slight smile on her face. 
It was obvious that even after what she had done to Carla and Skink that he
thought she would not put up much of a fight.  It was also clear from the talk
coming from the gang that none of them gave her much of a chance either. 
Only the rookie biker who first noticed the size of her arms even considered that
the outcome might be different.  He turned to the older biker again.  "She sure
don't look like no pushover to me.  I sure as hell wouldn't want to fight her. 
You saw what she did to Carla and Skink.  Big Ed himself said that she busted
Skink's face with just one punch.".  Meanwhile Big Ed continued his
unsuccessful attempt to intimidate Rusty.  I'm gonna knock your teeth out to
make it easier for you to suck my cock after I beat your ass.  I hear redheads are
supposed to give great blowjobs.".  Big Ed was on a roll now.  When you finish
suckin' me off then you can do every guy here."  Rusty answered right back.  "I
guess I'll have to knock out your teeth to make it easier for you to eat my
pussy".  She spoke in a soft conversational tone that was in direct contrast to
the fire in her eyes.  "O.K. Red.  It's time to meet the "Crusher".  You're gonna
regret ever challengin' me."  Both contestants realized that talking time was
over and it was time to fight.

Big Ed rushed at Rusty and swung the "Crusher" in a big roundhouse punch.  If
it had connected the fight would have been over before it got started, but Rusty
managed to avoid the wild swing.  Big Ed's momentum carried him past her and
Rusty kicked him lightly in the butt as he went by.  It was enough to cause him
to lose his balance and tumble flat on his face.  He got to his feet red-faced and
angry that this woman had embarrassed him like that.  He charged her again but
as she ducked what she thought was the oncoming punch, Big Ed quickly
stopped and drove his foot up in a kick directly between her legs.  Rusty was
enveloped in pain as her knees went weak and she sank to the ground holding
her wounded genitalia.  Big Ed laughed a sinister sounding laugh."Not so much
of a smart-ass now, are you Red. There's a lot more where that came from."  He
began to rain heavy kick at her ribs and back as she rolled on the ground in pain
trying desperately to get away from Big Ed and his big boots.  She knew from
experience  that bikers like him never let you up once they have you down like
that.  Even her iron hard body was giving way before Big Ed's onslaught.  Rusty
finally managed to roll to the edge of the embankment, then down it toward the
stream.  Big Ed started to follow her when his foot slipped a little and he slid
down struggling to maintain his balance.  They were both out of sight of the
gang.  Rusty climbed back up as Ed reached the bottom of the embankment. 
One good thing about a body as well conditioned as hers, it has remarkable
recuperative powers.  By the time Big Ed had scrambled back up to the
clearing, Rusty had nearly recovered enough to continue.  Big Ed's natural
tendency to blow off at the mouth worked to her advantage as he wasted
precious seconds again describing what he meant to do to her.  Rusty was
taking in big gulps of air as Ed strutted around showing off the "Crusher" and
rambling on about the damage it would do to her.  Rusty had a throbbing pain in
her pussy that wasn't going to go away anytime soon, and her ribs and back
hurt. Luckily nothing seemed to be broken.  "That was only a sample of what's
comin', whore.  You are in for a lot more pain."  Big Ed attempted to kick her
again.  This time Rusty avoided the kick, grabbed his leg and dumped him on
the ground.  She slipped around behind him and snaked her legs around his
head.  Big Ed felt the twin columns of steel begin to tighten around his head. 
He pounded his fists on her thighs but he had no effect on the bulging hard
muscles that were crushing his head.  The pain was severe.  He felt like his skull
was being crushed.  Rusty leaned back and poured on the pressure.  Her big
thighs could be plainly seen through her jeans as they swelled with power,
threatening to rip right through the denim.  The pain in her ribs and her back
had subsided and her breathing was returning to normal.  The only pain
remaining was the dull throbbing in her groin.  Big Ed was thrashing around
trying to escape the powerful pincers that were grinding his head to dust.  Rusty
bore down even more with her huge thighs.  Big Ed couldn't take the pain, he
felt his head was about to burst.  In desperation he bit down on her leg.  Rusty
screamed and released the scissors.  She made a serious error in judgement,
thinking that Ed was hurt more than he really was.  Rusty reached for him. Big
Ed drove his right fist directly on the nipple of her left breast.  Pain shot through
her body and Rusty gasped and fell back.  "Here comes the Crusher, you
redheaded whore!"  He fired a tremendous punch with his right fist.  Rusty
barely managed to get her left arm up in an attempt to block it.

If she had not been able to take some of the sting out of the punch she would be
stretched out on the ground, out cold.  Instead she was in a world of hurt with a
throbbing in her jaw to match the throbbing between her legs, and a large, ugly
bruise on her left forearm.  Big Ed made the same mistake that Rusty had made
earlier.  He overestimated the damage his punch had done to her, and casually
strolled over to her.  Rusty had gotten first to her knees, then got her feet under
her.  As Ed approached, Rusty launched herself like a missile with her right fist
as the warhead.  The warhead detonated dead in the center of Big Ed's beer gut
and sank from sight in a sea of flab.  He didn't go down but he folded at the
waist around the plundering fist and staggered back as his breath came out in a
loud whoosh.  The older biker nudged the rookie and said.  "That's the first time
I've even seen Ed get knocked backwards. You're right.  That redhead is
somethin'."  Rusty recovered her balance and moved in.  The bikers saw her
throw the punch that she had already used twice before as her left fist came up
in a hard, ripping uppercut that buried deep in Ed's soft belly raising him up on
his toes.  Before he could react, her right fist came up in an even harder
uppercut to his fat gut, this time lifting him up in the air.  The bikers were
amazed.  "Do you know the kind of power it takes for a punch to lift a guy as
big as him off his feet like that?  That's one strong lady!"  Rusty stepped back as
Big Ed flopped to the ground and puked his guts out.  Rusty banged her big
fists together in anticipation as Ed laid there like a beached whale and emptied
his stomach.  The gang was surprised that Rusty didn't step in and put her boots
to him as he had done to her, but she was content to wait for him to finish
regurgitating before she did anything at all.  Rusty had found his weak spot and
she intended to concentrate on it.  She took hold of Ed's hair and with one jerk
lifted him to his feet.  As he wobbled there, Rusty released a barrage on brutal
punches deep in Big Ed's damaged belly.  Almost too fast for the eye to follow,
her fists were a blur as her body turned left and right, pivoting expertly to get
full leverage into each gutwrenching punch.  After one particularly pulverizing
right that exploded in his ravaged gut, she backed off and let him slump to the
ground.  Rusty leaned over and whispered in his ear.  "Where I come from that
is called gutting.  You have just been gutted by an expert."  Big Ed couldn't
answer.  He was too busy rolling around on the ground clutching his belly.  Her
big fists had ripped and torn up his insides.  He was sure he had some serious
injuries from her "gutting".

Rusty almost made the same mistake again of misjudging how badly Ed was
injured.  He didn't get to be the top man in a vicious gang like the Bayou Devils
by rolling over when he was hurt.  He might be wounded but with his size and
strength he was still dangerous.  Rusty played it a little too casual and all at
once Big Ed cut loose a punch with the "Crusher" that landed flush on her jaw. 
Rusty staggered back and fell to the ground.  He jaw was not broken primarily
because Big Ed, in his weakened condition had not been able to get nearly as
much into the punch as he would have earlier.  Still, it knocked her down and
made her fight to remain conscious.  This had become a battle of attrition.  Who
could take the shots from the other and  recover first.

The police officer had come to as the fight started.  He found himself surprised
and embarrassed by his reaction to the fight.  Even in his woozy condition, he
realized that he was aroused by watching the big, strong, sexy redhead fight the
biker leader.  He had watched in amazement as her powerful muscles flexed and
clenched as they drove her hard fists over and over again into the fat gut of the
biker, and he was afraid he would soil himself.  Even in this situation he found
that he had a raging hard-on that would not go away as he watched Rusty in
action.  All he could do was watch as this magnificent woman fought for her
freedom and his.  He saw both combatants struggling to get to their feet and
prayed for the redhead.

Big Ed got to his feet first.  "Gotcha now, Red!"  he said.  "I'm gonna shine my
boots on ya again.".   He prepared to stomp Rusty with his big boots again.  She
was desperately trying to focus since she was still dazed from his punch. 
"Prepare to suck cock, whore!  I'm gonna  UUUNNNNHHHHH.  His
descending boot stopped in mid-air as Rusty's leg rose and drove her foot
between his legs with a satisfying thump.  Big Ed folded up and fell, clutching
his testicles.  With him down, Rusty had more time to recover.  She lay there
for a few minutes just trying to get everything back together.  She managed to
climb to her hands and knees, then to a fully upright position. She move toward
Big Ed, but her progress was painfully slow.  The Bayou Devils watched in
shocked silence.  They had never seen anything like the spectacle taking place in
front of them.  Both fighters were hurt.  They wanted to go to Big Ed's aid, but
they couldn't force themselves to move.  It was like they were frozen in place. 
Rusty had finally recovered enough from the big punch that put her down to
carry on.  She hauled Ed to his feet.  "I must have not done a good enough job
last time.  It's gutting time again!"  Big Ed held his hands out weakly in front of
him.  "NNo, PPlease.  I-I ccan't take anymore." he pleaded.  "To late, big guy. I
think another gutting is just what you need, and I'm just the girl to do it .".   Her
whole powerful body turned and drove her right fist elbow deep in Ed's battered
belly.  He tried to vomit again, but nothing was left to come up.  In rapid fire
succession Rusty's fists ripped into the corpulent flesh of his gut, sinking deeper
and deeper. Even harden bikers like these had seldom witnessed this kind of
savagery. Rusty  was viciously ripping apart  their leader. The silence in the
clearing was broken only by the sound of her fists smashing into Big Ed's body
and the moaning of Big Ed.  THUD! UUUNNNNHHH. THUD!
OOOOOFFFF.  THUD!  WWWHHHUUUUFF.  THUD! AAAHHHGGGG. 
THUD!  OOOHHHHH.  THUD!  OOAAAHHH.   Big Ed's body shuddered 
from the impact of each brutal fist.  Blood was flowing out of his mouth like a
river..  Rusty's huge, pumped up muscles continued to writhe and flex as she
pounded her big fists into his gut with devastating force.  At last she stopped. 
Ed collapsed at her feet blubbering like a baby.  Rusty entwined the fingers of
her left hand in his hair and raised him to his knees with his face pointed up to
her's.  Rusty stared down at her victim. The outcome of the fight was no longer
in doubt and she felt a familiar tingling between her legs, that replaced the
earlier pain.  "I told you that you would eat my pussy before we were through. 
I think that time is here"

Big Ed glared up at her and said "Fuck you, bitch!"  He spat a bloody wad of
spit and mucous at her.  "You also promised to knock out my teeth, didn't you?
Then I promised to knock out yours. Guess who is going to keep their
promise?"  Everyone watched in morbid fascination as the redhead slowly drew
back that big, hard anvil of a right fist and smashed it straight down into his
mouth.  The clearing was filled with the horrible sound of Big Ed's teeth
breaking under that muscle driven fist.  Twice more Rusty smashed that big,
hard hammer into the now broken mouth of the biker leader.  His lips were
ripped open and several teeth were knocked out or broken.  "Now?" a one
word question.  Big Ed was nothing if not stubborn.  He tried to spit at her
again, but all that would come out was blood and parts of broken teeth.  Rusty
cocked her deadly fist again, this time driving it just under his left eye.  There
was a large red mark where her fist landed that would soon be a lovely black
and purple bruise.  The eye was swelling shut, and from the way it was caved in
the cheekbone looked to be broken.  "I'll tell you what, big man.  Either you eat
my pussy right now or we'll have another gutting session. How would you like
that?"  That pushed Ed over the edge.  He couldn't stand even the thought of
the redhead pounding those hard fists into his battered, wounded belly again. 
"I-I'll do it.  I-I'll do anything you say. Just leave my gut alone."  Rusty couldn't
believe what she just heard.  The big, tough, invincible biker leader begging her
not to hurt him anymore.  The vicious leader had been reduced to a battered
bleeding hulk by a woman! She nearly climaxed right there she was so excited.
Rusty unbuttoned her jeans and let them slide down exposing the huge columns
of muscle they had covered.  Next her panties were lowered leaving the red hair
curling up between her legs exposed.  It was soaking wet as everyone could see.
Rusty lowered herself until she was seated on his chest.  She reached over and
retrieved his discarded tee shirt and used it to wipe his face, removing the
blood, vomit, and parts of teeth from his beard.  When she had finished wiping
she positioned her warm, wet, hungry snatch right over his mouth and nose. 
Big Ed began lapping unenthusiastically.  Rusty leaned down, "If you don't do
better than that, I'll have to gut you again after all!" she growled in his ear.  Big
Ed immediately began using his tongue in ways he never thought he would. 
Rusty could feel her climax building and began riding his face at a rapid pace.   
Big Ed continued to use his tongue furiously to keep her from using those big
fists on his tender gut again.  He knew he had lost the fight, lost face, and
probably his position as leader but he didn't care.  He would do anything to
avoid the redhead and her brutal fists.  Rusty screamed as her orgasm hit, riding
his face all the way to the end.  She got up without a word and pulled up he
panties and jeans.  Big Ed was grovelling on the ground with her vaginal
secretions now mixing with the blood that was still coming from his demolished
mouth.  Rusty got Ed to his feet.  His pain racked body had a difficult time
staying up, so she had to hold him.  "I'm gonna finish you off now,  tough guy. 
I love beating up bad asses like you!"  A look of terror came over his face just
as Rusty rocketed a brutal punch to his abused gut.  He would have fallen if she
had not caught him again.  She wound up her right fist and unloaded a
mammoth punch that crashed into his jaw.  Hard bone met hard fist and the
bone gave way.  His jawbone shattered as her fist smashed  in. He spun around
and fell on his back, out cold.  The fight was over, the biker leader battered,
broken, and unconscious at the feet of his red haired conqueror.  The woman's
eyes coldly circled the group.  "I expect all of you to keep your word." she said.
The Bayou Devils were speechless. They still could not believe that this
beautiful woman had brutally destroyed their leader whom they thought to be
invincible.

Rusty moved quickly to the trees where the policeman was tied and cut him
down with Skink's knife which was still imbedded in the tree.  Although she
didn't notice it at the time, he had ejaculated in his pants.  As Rusty had been
clobbering Big Ed he had been unable to contain himself.  "Can you walk?" she
asked him.  "Yes, but not very fast." was the reply with a grimace that passed
for a grin.  "What's your name?"  Rusty questioned.  "Cole", he answered. "Cole
Foster.".  Well Cole Foster, follow me as quickly as you can walk.  Don't look
anywhere except straight ahead.  I don't know how long these morons are going
to wait before somebody decides to try to stop us, so we're getting the hell out
of here as fast as we can.  They're still in a bit of shock at what happened to Big
Ed.  Let's get moving before they wake up."  Several of the bikers had gone
over to the unconscious, broken body of their leader.  The damage inflicted by
Rusty's savage fists was overwhelming.  Both of his lips were split and were
swelling up like two sausages.  Many of his teeth were knocked out or broken
off in his mouth.  His cheekbone was sunken in, probably broken, and his eye
was swollen shut.  The way his jaw was unhinged it was shattered, broken
probably in more than one place.  There was no to assess the internal injuries
done to his belly by her "gutting", but from the way he had been acting prior to
being knocked out, it must be considerable.  When at last they looked up, the
woman and the cop were gone. They had gotten to where Rusty had hidden the
Harley, loaded Cole on, and taken off.  "We have to take a look at your injuries
and call for help.  We need to find a motel somewhere and a phone.

Cole directed her to a junction where the road intersected an Interstate
highway.  There were several motels, restaurants, and gas stations in close
proximity to the interstate.  Rusty selected a motel, went in to the office and
registered.  She requested a room in the back so that the Harley would not be
visible from the road in case the Bayou Devils decided to pursue them.  Cole
managed to get inside, then sprawled out on the bed.  For the first time Rusty
saw the stain on the front of his trousers and allowed herself a small smile. 
"You must not be hurt as badly as I thought." she said.  Cole was embarrassed
and his face turned a bright red.  "I've never seen anything like that in my life. 
Everybody thought Big Ed would stomp you into the ground.  What you did to
him was absolutely inconceivable.  I never thought a woman could fight like
that, especially one as beautiful as you.".  He turned Red again.  "Right now we
have to get you patched up and call for help."  Rusty changed the subject.  She
examined his wounds.  Fortunately most of them were superficial, but the
slashes on his face needed attention or they might become infected.  She had
some alcohol in her baggage.  She took a washcloth from the bathroom and
gently washed off the blood from the long furrows in his face and chest.  Next
she applied the alcohol to the slashes.  Cole nearly jumped out of the bed when
the alcohol hit his slashes, but regained his composure.  Rusty repeated the
process on his chest.  She removed his boots and socks.  She unbuckled his belt
and started to remove his pants when Cole protested.  Rusty told him she
wanted to check his body for bruises.  The bruises on his belly and torso from
Carla's fists were painful, but no internal damage was evident.  "She worked
you over pretty good." Rusty said as she continued to check him out.  "Nothing
at all like what you did to Carla and Big Ed, though" Cole said with a painful
grin.  "The way you smashed their guts in, they won't be able to eat or drink
anything for a long time. After what you did to them they will probably slink out
of town with their tails tucked between their legs."  "I loved the feel of my fists
smashing into their bodies. Somehow I find that very sexual." Rusty admitted. 
As Rusty spoke she could see that Cole was becoming aroused.  He had gotten
hard just talking about it.  Rusty noticed for the first time the stain on the front
of his trousers.  "Why, you little devil you. You must not be hurt as much as I
thought you were."  Cole turned red again, but his cock got even harder if
possible.  "I can see there was at least one part of your anatomy that wasn't
damaged.  Don't you go away, I'll be right back."  Rusty went to the bathroom. 
When she came out she was totally naked.   She heard Cole's sharp intake of
breath as he saw her magnificent body up close for the first time.  The muscles
in her massive legs swelled into pillars of white iron as she walked.  Huge, eye-
popping muscles sprouted from everywhere. "Her arms are much larger than
mine" he thought as Rusty moved across the room.  Her large, beautiful breasts
stood straight out from her thickly muscled chest.  The only thing that marred
her beauty was her jaw which was bruised and swollen from her two encounters
with Big Ed's "Crusher".  Rusty gently straddled him and locked her lips on his
in a long kiss.  Her tongue explored his mouth.  When she broke the kiss, before
she could do anything else, Cole took her breast in his mouth.  He sucked her
prominent nipple, then circled it with his tongue.  He switched to her other
breast and repeated the same thing, then moving back and forth from one breast
to the other.  Rusty could feel her nipples stiffen under his ministrations.
Cole shifted his attention from her breasts to her rippled stomach.  Her abs were
six individual, defined  squares of muscle.  His tongue started up high, right
under her sternum and slowly worked its way down, tracing the indentations
separating the muscles all the way around each one.  Rusty had never had this
done to her before and it sent shivers up and down her spine.  He came
tantalizingly close to the red bush covering her vagina and he began to lick that.
His tongue flicked back and forth across her clit, then just inside her inviting
opening.  Then he began retracing his steps back up her quivering belly.  As he
reached the top of her hard stomach his active tongue again reversed itself and
turned downward, this time pausing at her bellybutton to first circle it with his
tongue, then flick in and out of it, constantly moving and darting, in and out.
Downward he went again.  When he reached his destination, this time he stayed
there, sucking on her clit for a while before plunging his tongue deep inside her.
Rusty had almost climaxed several times before, but now she could not hold it
back any longer.  A powerful orgasm racked her body, one that she wished
could go on forever.  Cole kept working his active tongue all the way through
it.  When it finally ended a breathless Rusty sat back and tried to recover.  "That
was wonderful" she said.  Without another word she positioned herself over his
fully erect penis.  Slowly she moved downward until his entire length was taken
in by her eager pussy.  Rusty began a rocking, rotating motion, slowly at first,
then as Cole found the rhythm she increased the speed of her movements.  Cole
could feel her vaginal muscles pulling, clutching at him.  As their speed
increased, neither of them could hold off much longer.  They both exploded in a
long, wild climax.  When it was finished, Rusty kissed him tenderly on his
slashed cheek.  "You are the most remarkable woman in the world." Cole said
to her.  "You can out fight any man, and out fuck any woman!  Utterly
amazing!"  Rusty gave him a big grin.  "And don't you ever forget either of
those." she said. 

While Rusty and Cole were checking into the motel, Carla who had revived in
time to see Rusty finish off Big Ed, was livid.  When she saw up close the
damage inflicted on her lover by the redhead, she went berserk.  "I'm gonna kill
that redheaded bitch!" she shouted.  "Are any of you with me?"  "Carla calm
down.  There's nothin' we can do about it.  Big Ed himself made the deal with
her.  Beat him and go free.  None of us thought that she might actually win,
much less tear him up like this.  We're out of it." said the oldtimer who was
functioning temporarily as the leader.  Carla went ballistic!  "Fuckin' bunch o'
pussies!  I didn't agree to any such bullshit as that!  I'm gonna find that
redheaded whore and kill her and that lil' asshole cop if he's around too!".  She
found Big Ed's .357 Magnum pistol, leaped on her bike and roared away.  The
rest of the Bayou Devils were in disarray.  They started to think about what to
do about Big Ed and Skink.  They definitely needed medical attention, but
couldn't be moved from camp.  They finally decided to wait for dark and try to
kidnap the local doctor and bring him there and force him to treat the two
bikers.  Then they would take their dope and get the hell out of Dodge.  None
of them wanted to tangle with the wild redhead again.  This was the first time in
their lives they were scared of a woman.  They hoped Carla did not find them,
for her own sake.

Carla arrived at the interstate intersection and saw all the motels.  She began a
systematic search, checking each one, inquiring if a tall, redhaired woman had
checked in.  Her story was that they were friends and were supposed to meet
there, but she had forgotten the name of the motel.  On her fourth stop she
struck paydirt.  The clerk even provided Rusty's room number.  Carla quietly
sneaked around to the back of the motel.  As she got close to the room she
could hear the unmistakable sounds of lovemaking.  That made her even
madder.  About five minutes after it ended, Carla knocked on the door.  "Front
desk.  Sorry to bother you, but our machine made a mistake.  We need another
imprint of your credit card.".  Rusty opened the door a crack.  Carla shoved the
gun against her head and forced her back into the room.  Rusty was still naked,
just covered with a towel which she dropped.  Carla was enraged. "I'm gonna
kill you and that faggot cop!" she snarled.  "I'm gonna make you watch me do
the cop, then it'll be your turn.  You're gonna die a little bit at a time.  First I'll
blow off your kneecaps, then your ears.  After that I'm gonna shove this gun up
your ugly red snatch and empty it then watch you bleed to death.".  Rusty hadn't
said a word since Carla showed up at the door.  "I guess it's too late to try to
talk you out of this." she said in a voice that sounded much calmer that she was
feeling.  Carla took a good look at the redhead for the first time.  She almost
lost her concentration when she saw the flame red hair, gorgeous face, and
mind-blowing muscularity.  Keeping her eyes on Rusty, she cocked the pistol. 
Cole, who was still on the bed, knew that if he didn't take action now they
would both be dead in a matter of minutes.  While Carla's attention was focused
on Rusty, he threw a pillow at her.  Carla ducked instinctively.  When she did,
Rusty lunged at her gun hand.

The two women wrestled for the pistol all over the room.  Carla was much
stronger than Rusty thought she would be and her strength was fueled by both
anger and fear.  Carla drove her knee between Rusty's legs.  The pain was
intense and Rusty's grip on the pistol weakened.  Carla managed to yank the
gun free, but stumbled back slightly as Rusty released it.  Carla was trying to
bring the gun to bear when Rusty snapped her foot up and delivered a
tremendous kick to the hand holding the pistol.  It went flying across the room.
The suddenly unarmed Carla took one look at Rusty and tried to run from the
room.  Rusty dived at her and caught Carla with a driving tackle from behind as
she reached the door.  Carla crashed face first into the door.  Both women fell
to the floor.  Cole struggled to get out of bed to help.  "Stay right where you
are!" Rusty commanded.  "I'll take care of this!".  Rusty got to her feet first. 
Carla's face showed the effects of its collision with the door.  She had two cuts
on her forehead and blood was dripping down her face.  As she struggled to
rise, Rusty kicked her, the redhead's gargantuan thighs exploding with power. 
The kick drove Carla away from the door, back to the center of the room. Carla
realized that her only chance without the weapon was in escape.  She sprang up
and charged at Rusty.  She meant to knock Rusty off balance, get to the door
and run for her bike.  Just before she reached Rusty an axehandle smashed into
her jaw.  She knew it had to be an axehandle.  The hardest she had been ever hit
in her life was in a brawl when she had been hit by another biker with an
axehandle, and this blow was even harder than that one.  As she groped around
on the floor she realized it was not an axehandle after all, just Rusty's hard fist. 
She could hear Rusty's voice but it sounded far away, like she was in a tunnel. 
"After what you did to him, I think the policeman would like to see you gutted.
I always obey the wishes of law officers."  Rusty gripped Carla's hair and
hauled her to her feet.  About this time it dawned on Carla in her brain fogged
state what Rusty had said and what was about to happen.  She opened her
mouth to plead with Rusty but before she could get the words out Rusty
delivered what was becoming her favorite gut punch, that ripping, up from the
floor, left uppercut right in the center of Carla's tender belly. 

OOOFFF went Carla as she was lifted off her feet and fell to her knees.  She
was retching, but there was nothing left to come up after her two previous
episodes.  Only a few strands of green and yellow mucous came out of her
mouth.  Rusty picked Carla up and slammed her back against the door.  Her big
right fist rocketed into Carla's belly.  "UUUUNNNNHHH" went Carla and she
started to fold.  Rusty draped Carla's head over her shoulder pinning her against
the door.  She pounded vicious, wind-sucking smashes deep into Carla's now
very soft stomach.  Blood ran out of her mouth and dripped down Rusty's bare
back.  Still she kept up her fusillade of hard fists deep into Carla's battered gut. 
Carla was now moaning softly with each savage blast, the only sign she was still
conscious.  With one last brutal smash, Rusty allowed Carla to sag to the floor.
Rusty turned and grinned at Carl, "Another expert gutting for today.  I usually
don't get to have this much fun in one day." she said. Carla was beginning to
stir.  Slowly at first, then flopping around in pain, clutching her gut.  Usually
Rusty's blood lust would have been sated by now, but since Carla had tried to
kill them, Rusty was in a particularly vicious mood.  Too bad for Carla.  Rusty
got Carla to her feet once again.  She looked deep into Carla's eyes, seeing the
agony and the fear reflected there.  Rusty's pussy began heating up once more. 
"PPlease don't hit me aany more. I-I can't take it.  I-I'll ddo anything you want,
I'll eat your pussy like Ed did, I'll suck off the cop, anything, just don't hit me
anymore.  Your fists are so big and so hard, I'm afraid you'll kill me. Please!" 
Carla always thought she was the toughest woman around. She had won many
fights with men and had never lost to another woman.  This big redhead had
destroyed her three times in one day, and although Carla was ashamed of herself
for begging, she would indeed do anything to escape further punishment from
this woman.  Listening to Carla plead, Rusty's pussy was on fire and dripping
wet again.  "You should have thought about that before you forced your way in
here waving that gun around and threatening to kill us. You've got to pay the
price!"  Rusty held her open right hand up in front of Carla's face.  Deliberately
she curled it up into the big, hard fist that Carla had come to fear so much. 
Slowly she drew it back so that Carla could see the big muscles in her arms and
shoulders dance, ripple and flex.  Rusty looked in Carla's eyes again and saw
sheer terror there.  Rusty couldn't resist giving her a big smile.  She wanted to 
take time to savor the moment.  At last she was ready. Then the fist streaked
forward as Rusty turned, getting everything she had into one last, cruel, massive
punch. "CRRRAAAAKKK!!!"

It smashed into Carla's face with superhuman force and Carla's nose
disintegrated in a spray of red that coated Rusty's fist and splattered on her
breasts and chest. The unconscious biker chick slid down to a sitting position
with her back resting against the door.  Rusty contemptuously shoved the body
over on its side with her foot.  Blood from her smashed nose was pooling on the
carpet.  Rusty glanced at Cole.  His rod was standing straight up at attention.  "I
don't think Carla would mind if we put that to good use." she said.  Rusty
crossed to the bed and mounted him again. Both of them were so stimulated
that the immediately started at a breakneck pace.  As hot as they were in a very
short time they both erupted in a sizzling orgasm.  Then they collapsed on the
bed. 

Rusty handed him the phone.  "Call you buddies in the police department and
tell them where to find the Bayou Devils.  The drugs should still be there with
them.  That should put all of them away for a long time.  Rusty headed for the
shower.  Cole could hear the water running as he made the necessary calls. 
Rusty came out of the shower and began gathering up her clothes.  Cole got
one last look at her sexy, powerful body as she dressed.  "I've got to go now.  I
don't want to be involved in any of this.  I'm sure you can come up with a good
story."  She leaned over and kissed him.  "Will I ever see you again?" Cole
asked her hopefully.  "No, I don't think so.  If you ever get to New York you
can try to look me up.  Goodbye, Cole Foster".  Rusty stepped over the
unconscious and still bleeding body of Carla Lopez and out the door of the
room.  She mounted her Harley and left the motel.  Cole watched her from the
window as she rode away. "What a woman!" he shook his head as she rode out
of sight.  Rusty could hear the sound of sirens arriving as she headed down the
highway.  After traveling only an hour or so she realized she was tired and
stopped for the night.  The next morning as she was having breakfast the local
paper caught her eye.  The headline blared "Local officer breaks up biker drug
ring.  Cole Foster, a member of our local police force was credited with the
apprehension of the Bayou Devils motorcycle gang.  The Bayou Devils had long
been suspected of being the major distributor of illicit drugs in a three state area.
Officer Foster says he was aided in this arrest by an unidentified woman, who
he described as tall, attractive, with red hair.  The woman apparently had an
encounter with the gang at Albert's diner earlier in the day.  Officer Foster
credits the woman with rescuing him from the gang after he had been assaulted
by them.  At the time of the arrest Big Ed McCauley, the alleged leader of the
Bayou Devils was in serious condition and required hospitalization for injuries
sustained in a fight prior to the arrests.  His jaw was broken, cheekbone
fractured, several teeth had been knocked out, and he was suffering from
internal injuries.  Another gang member identified only as "Skink"  was also
injured incurring a broken nose and several missing teeth.  Carla Lopez, another
member of the gang was arrested at the motel where Officer Foster had taken
refuge.  She also required hospitalization.  She had severe internal injuries and a
shattered nose.  Officer Foster states that the mysterious redhaired woman
inflicted  all of these injuries on the gang members in self defense..  She
disappeared while the arrests were being made and  apparently no one knows
her whereabouts.  There is a reward for the capture of this vicious gang and
local authorities, on Officer Foster's recommendation,  would like to present it
to this woman.  If anyone has any information regarding this woman please
contact the local police. Once again she is described by Officer Foster as being
approximately 5'10" tall, very attractive, with red hair.  She was last seen
heading south on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle."  Rusty read the article as she
finished her breakfast.  "Nice try, Cole" she thought as she completed the
article.  She noticed some people starting to stare at her, so she paid her check
and hurriedly left the restaurant and headed south to New Orleans and maybe a
new adventure.

[Chainer★]

The Road Trip Part 3
By Arby

New Orleans, The Big Easy, The Queen of the Delta.  The French Quarter,
Bourbon Street, Canal Street, jazz, Cajun and Creole cooking.  Wide open,
anything goes, everything available that you want just for the asking.  A city
that knows how to party and have a good time.   The tourist stood on the
balcony of the hotel room looking out over the city.  The only thing wrong
was the heat and humidity.  The temperature was 93 degrees and the
humidity in excess of 90 percent.


The woman stepped back inside the hotel room and chose her clothing
appropriately for the weather.  A sleeveless blue dress, tapered in the middle
emphasizing her slim waist.  She looked in the mirror.  "I don't want to scare
any one off." she thought so she threw a lightweight matching cardigan
sweater over her shoulders and arms, wanting to cover them up, even in the
heat.  The dress was short enough to make her legs look long and sexy,  but
long enough to cover her large, muscular thighs.  She left the hotel and
decided to walk to the French Quarter which was close by.   All tourists
were warned about the thieves and muggers that frequented the area, but this
tourist seemed unfazed by that.  She set out with a long, athletic stride,  for
an evening of fun and relaxation.  She was passing through an area that was
not as well lighted when two men materialized out of an alley, and stood
right in front of her.  "Well, Well, Well!  What have we here.  Freddie, we
done found ourselves a real prize, a real beauty queen."  "Willie, you're
right.  This one we can fuck after we take her money."  The one called
Freddie produced a wicked looking knife and said.  "Lady if you don't want
me to cut you right here, git yur ass back in this alley!"  The woman calmly
looked over the two punks.  They were both fairly small men, dressed
shabbily, with the look of having been losers all their lives.  The knife,
however, looked new and very deadly.  The woman let herself be escorted
into the alley.  Willie moved toward her.  "Hand over your purse, toots.  If
you have a lot of money and give us a real good fuck, we might not cut
you!" he said.  His rod was already standing at attention. The woman
reached out to hand the purse to Willie when suddenly her foot shot out and
slammed into his groin with a sickening thud.  Willie groaned and rolled up
in a ball on the alley floor clutching his wounded testicles.   Freddie,
regaining his composure, said  "You bitch! Now I'm gonna slice you up! 
We're still gonna fuck your raw and take your money, but then I'm gonna cut
your tits off!".  He leaped at the woman with the knife in his right hand.  He
slashed at her, nicking her hand as she jumped back to avoid the knife.  The
woman glanced down at the small cut running across the back of her hand. 
She said nothing, just looked straight at Freddie.  After a staring contest that
lasted less than a minute but seemed much longer the woman said "Now
you're in trouble.  Now you've pissed me off.".  Freddie leaped at her again. 
She stepped inside the arc of the knife and blocked it with her left arm.  To
Freddie, it felt like hitting a limb on an oak tree, it was big, hard, and didn't
budge.   She reached across with her right hand and grasped the wrist of his
knife hand.  Now using her blocking arm as a base she snapped the knife
hand down across it.  Freddie's wrist broke with a loud snap and the knife
fell from his nerveless fingers.  The woman retained her grip on his arm and
whipped him face first into the brick wall of the alley.  Freddie's face hit it ,
and he bounced back falling on the alley's asphalt floor.  There was a big cut
on his forehead, his nose was bleeding and there was a big gash on his chin.
He looked up at the woman with fear in his eyes for the first time.  She took
hold of his shirt and pulled Freddie to his feet.  The woman slammed him
back against the alley wall.  Willie was beginning to stir around so the
woman briefly released Freddie, pivoted and kicked Willie's head like a field
goal kicker trying to win the game with a fifty yard kick.  Willie flipped
over, and lay still.  The woman turned her attention back to Freddie.  "This
is your lucky day, asshole!  Normally I would bust you up good, but I don't
want to get your blood all over my new dress. So instead of turning your
face into hamburger,  I'm going to give you a quick demonstration in gut
punching.  You look awfully soft to me.  I think I'll have a little bet with
myself , which will you do first, puke or pass out? And don't try to run.  If I
have to chase you, I'll be even more pissed and your beating will be much
worse."    While she was explaining the facts of life to Freddie in her low,
musical, voice, the woman removed the cardigan she was wearing and
carefully placed it on some boxes that were stacked nearby.  When she
turned back to Freddie he gasped in disbelief.  He knew now he was in deep
trouble. Freddie had never seen muscles like hers in his entire life, male or
female.  Her shoulders were two boulders that sprouted from the armholes of
her dress.  The redhead smiled and flexed for him.  "This is why you're in a
lot of trouble!" she growled.  Her biceps were beyond anything he had ever
seen.  Large as honeydew melons, with  splits right across the tops. 
Prominent blue veins ran across the peaks of her biceps and a network of
them crisscrossed her thick forearms like so many rivers but carrying blood
instead of water, the blue veins clearly visible against her white skin.  He
noticed the contradictions her appearance presented.  Shining flame red hair
hanging down over her shoulders.   She had a beautiful face, with a sprinkle
of freckles across the bridge of her nose that seemed much more suited to a
fashion magazine covergirl than the muscular phenomenon that faced him. 
How could a woman this beautiful have muscles like that?  Now he realized
how big she was.  In the heels she was still wearing she towered several
inches over him.  She held up a fist under his nose that Freddie thought
looked as big as a Volkswagen.  "I think it's about time for our little
demonstration to begin." she said still in a low, soft voice.  "No, lady,
please. Let me go, I really wasn't goin' to cut you, I just wanted to scare yo--
UUUUUGGGGHHHHH!!!!"  His words were cut off as the big fist the
woman had just shown him smashed deep into his belly.  He loudly expelled
all the air in his lungs as her fist plunged far inside him.  Before he could
even begin to recover, the woman's fist ripped up into his tender gut again. 
He was overcome by waves of pain and nausea.  He started to crumple to the
ground, but the woman grabbed his shirt keeping him upright.  Two more
vicious blasts from her big right fist bombarded his belly.  He was no longer
able to fight off the nausea that started deep down in his gut and rose up to
his throat.  He began regurgitating  everything in his stomach.  The redhead
evidently had experience in this situation because as Freddie first began to
gag she released her grip on his shirt and stepped back so that the vile
looking and smelling fluid that poured out of his mouth splashed harmlessly
on the asphalt and not on her.  Freddie slumped to his knees and continued
heaving until there was nothing left to come up.  He looked up and to his
horror the big redhead was reaching for him again.  "I win! I bet that you
would puke first, and my prize is that I get to keep punching your fat gut." 
This time her fingers entwined in his hair, dragging him to his feet. 
"PPlease lady, don't hurt me anymore." he pleaded.  Freddie was helpless. 
He was in severe pain. and he was still nauseated from the brutal pounding
that his belly had taken so far.  Now the woman had just told him she wasn't
finished.   If he was expecting any mercy from the gorgeous redhead he was
out of luck.  "You have to learn not to be pulling knives on innocent people
like me." she said amused at her own inside joke.  "We're going to continue
our gut punching demonstration a little bit longer.  I have to make sure that
you've learned your lesson.  For your information, gutting comes in two
steps. The first is puking which you have done and the other is passing out, 
getting knocked unconscious which you are about to do."   Freddie was in a
panic, he didn't think his belly could take any more punishment without
sustaining serious damage.  He was in such agony he could barely focus
enough to speak.  "Lady, please. I promise I'll never do that again. I was all
Willie's ide OOOHHHH!!".  Once again she cut off his pleading with a
vicious belly blast.  This time she changed hands so it was her left fist that
sank up to the wrist in his soft gut.  When the next vicious left penetrated his
belly, he thought it must have gone all the way through him it hurt so bad. 
His abdominal muscles began to spasm.  Freddie would have puked again if
there was anything left in his stomach to come up.  As it was he just gagged
and had the dry heaves.   The redhead jammed her big thigh between his
legs to hold him in place and began a barrage of brutal smashes to his gut
with both fists.  Each savage blow was so powerful that it lifted his feet off
the ground.  He let out a loud moan each time her big fist penetrated far into
the flabby flesh of his gut. The redhead was obviously enjoying her work
because she had a big, nearly orgasmic smile on her face as she shredded his
gut with her hard fists.  Freddie probably lost consciousness after about the
seventh or eighth gut plundering smash, since the moaning stopped, but the
woman was oblivious to his condition and kept it up for several more
punches.   The only sound in the alley was the thud of her fists hammering
Freddie's belly.  It was as if she was enjoying this so much that she couldn't
force herself to quit.  She had always loved the feel of her fists smashing
into anyone stupid enough to cross her.  Freddie was no more than a
punching bag to her at this point.  At last she stepped back seemingly
satisfied, and let his badly battered body fall to the asphalt.  Dark red blood
was seeping out of both sides of his mouth.  Her savage battering had
damaged at least some of his internal organs causing the bleeding.  When
she saw that, her smile became ever wider.  "I love gut punching out of
shape slobs like you." she said.  There was no doubt that even though she
was beautiful this redhead had a mean streak a mile wide.  She found the
knife and putting her foot on the blade, snapped it off right at the hilt.  "You
won't be using this on anybody else." she said to the two men even though
neither of them was capable of hearing her.  "That will teach you not to
screw with Rusty Walters! Thanks for the workout, punks.  I need to do that
every so often.  The only problem is that beating up assholes makes me very
horny."  The woman could feel the wetness that had developed between her
legs as she had brutalized Freddie's gut with her fists.  She strode out of the
alley without another glance at her two unconscious victims and headed for
Bourbon street and an evening of fun and games. 


As she exited the alley, Rusty noticed that despite her best efforts some
damage had been done to her dress.  While she had avoided getting a lot of
blood on it by gut punching Freddie into a battered, unconscious pile of
flesh, his knife thrusts had produced a few slashes in the material and when
she had pinned him with her shoulder some blood and mucous from his
mouth had dribbled on the front of her dress.  Rusty did an about face and
headed back to her hotel, needing to change after all before going out for the
night.  When she entered the hotel lobby, she saw that a gambling
expedition was being organized at the hotel.  While Louisiana had no
legalized gambling, Mississippi had both riverboat gambling and casinos. 
On a whim, Rusty signed up to go.  It was a short trip just across the state
line, and the bus, a state of the art piece of transportation was equipped with
television sets, music, and a bar.  It was paid for by the casinos to entice
tourists from the New Orleans hotels to come.  Rusty had fifteen minutes
before the bus left, so she hurried to her room to change.  This time she
donned clothing which was much more reflective of her personality.  Her
usual custom made tight fitting jeans, (she had to have the custom made
because of her small waist and huge thighs to get them to fit) and a cut off
halter top that left her rippling, flat belly exposed as well as her shoulders
and arms.  She flexed her right arm and a huge ball of muscle swelled up
like a balloon had been implanted under her skin.  She lovingly ran the
fingers of her left hand over it feeling the size and hardness.  She could feel
the dampness between her legs returning.  "I shouldn't have kicked that jerk
so hard.  These muscles needed more of a workout and his belly would have
been perfect for a little more  punching practice.".   She smiled, and covered
up again, this time with a denim jacket.  She tied her hair back with a blue
bandanna.  Her arms completely filled the sleeves of the jacket as she did. 
She looked in the mirror, satisfied with what she saw went down to the
lobby to board the bus.

There was a real mixture of people boarding the bus.  Young couples, single
men who immediately started giving her the eye, and some older people in
their sixties and seventies.  Rusty got a beer from the small bar and found a
seat next to an elderly lady.  A quick glance into the lady's purse found a
glass jar filled with quarters.  She was no doubt headed for the slot
machines.  Rusty gave her a quick smile and  put on the headphones that
were provided and listened to music as the bus roared through the night to
the casinos.  It was strange that New Orleans, long with a reputation as a
wide open town had no legalized gambling and Mississippi, long thought of
as a cradle of conservatism, had wide open legal casinos.  The bus pulled in
under a canopy and everyone got off.  As Rusty followed the crowd and
made her way into the casino, she was amazed in the difference.  They had
been built, basically in what used to be a swamp, but inside they matched
anything Las Vegas or Atlantic City had to offer.  They had plush carpeting,
state of the art lighting systems, lounges with name entertainers, and
cocktail waitresses in very skimpy outfits.  Rusty stopped and got five
hundred dollars worth of chips, which she placed in the pocket of her jacket.
She had plenty of money from a trust fund left by her parents and her job as
an enforcer for the biggest loan shark in New York.  She started out standing
at the craps table just watching the action.   After spending several minutes
observing, she moved on to the roulette wheel.  Again, she just watched for
a while, then on the blackjack tables.  She noticed a young man dressed in a
tuxedo following her.  He had started at the craps table and followed her
until now.  Rusty headed to area that contained the restrooms.  She ducked
into a hallway and waited.  The man came walking cautiously through the
area, looking around.

Rusty stepped out of the hallway right in front of him.  "Is there something I
can do for you, mister?" she asked.  The man was obviously embarrassed at
having been confronted by Rusty.  He stammered for a few seconds before
he could get himself together.  "I'm sorry.  I saw you when you came in. 
You are the most beautiful woman we have had come in here since it
opened.  I'm Johnny Fargo.  My family owns this place.  If you'll have a
drink with me, I promise not to follow you around like a little puppy dog
anymore."  Johnny smiled showing gleaming white teeth, against his tanned
skin.  Rusty had observed that he was a good looking young man, olive
complexion, dark hair with a hint of a curl.  He looked very handsome in his
tux.  "What the hell." she thought.  "O.K.. I'll have one drink with you if you
promise to leave me alone after that.  My name is Rusty".  She offered her
hand.  Johnny took it and was amazed by its size and hardness.  He could
feel the hard ridge across her knuckles usually only found in martial artists
or boxers.  Her grip was very firm, an indicator of underlying great strength.
He wondered just what kind of woman he had gotten involved with.  She
had the looks of a model but the size and strength of a world class athlete
and then there were those fighter's knuckles.  "This could prove to be a very
interesting evening." he thought.  Johnny ushered her to his private table set
up in a corner of the main bar.  Rusty noticed several men who seemed to be
carrying guns under their suit jackets scattered throughout the casino.  After
they were seated and ordered she asked about all the armed men in the
casino.  "There is a group in New Orleans that wants to take over all the
casinos.  You can guess who they are.  They started out by making offers to
buy us out that were far less than the business is worth.  When that didn't
work they started to make threats.  We are just taking precautions to protect
ourselves and out customers."  Rusty was not surprised.  When money is to
be made, the mob is not far behind.  As the were talking there was a sudden
commotion at the entrance to the casino.  Suddenly several men wearing ski
masks and carrying automatic weapons came through the door and spread
out throughout the casino.  One of them fired a burst through a chandelier. 
One of Johnny's men pulled his gun but was cut down before her could do
anything.  "No one move.  Stay where you are, and everyone will be alright.
This is not a holdup."  He spotted Johnny sitting at his table.  The man
made his way over to Johnny.  "Get up, asshole.  You're comin' with us." 
Mistaking Rusty for Johnny's girlfriend he said.  "O.K. bimbo, you better
come along too." waving the MAC 10 machine pistol he was carrying at
Rusty.  She knew that there was nothing that could be done at the moment
so she stood up and joined Johnny.  The masked man prodded Johnny and
Rusty with his gun.  "Move along, the boss wants to see you, lover boy.  I
will say this bimbo seems to be an improvement over what you usually hang
out with.  I'll bet she's a real good piece of ass."  Rusty had to bite her
tongue to keep from saying something she would probably regret because
right now they were in control.  "Sorry for the inconvience, folks." the
leader said.  "Carry on and good luck.  By the way, don't any of you get any
bright ideas.  If you follow us, we'll waste Johnny and the bimbo."  They
backed out the door and loaded into two vans that had been waiting.  Johnny
and Rusty were blindfolded. and shoved down on the floor of the van they
were in.   The drive seemed to take over an hour, but they couldn't tell if it
was really travel time or if they were just being driven around to confuse
them.   They could feel the van turn off the road.  It came to a stop and the
blindfolds were removed.  They were standing in front of a large, palatial
house, that had been built out in the country.  Johnny did not recognize the
route they had taken but he recognized the house, it was Jimmy Masarella's.
They were taken inside and shoved into an elevator which was just inside
the front door.  They ascended to the second floor and when the elevator
stopped they were taken down a hallway and left in a room.  It was a room
that contained only a few chairs. The floor, walls and ceiling were all
padded.  This was definitely not the guest room.  Johnny and Rusty sat in
silence for a while.  "One thing I can promise you."  Rusty said.  "I'm gonna
break that guy's jaw who kept calling me a bimbo if I can find out who he is
without his mask."  Johnny looked a her and grinned.  "I know who he is. 
That mask would only fool the tourists.  That was Sam Gianola, Jimmy
Masserella's right hand man.  I'd be careful around him, though. He has a
black belt in karate."  Rusty looked unimpressed.  "Well, I have a black belt
in streetfighting, so he'd better be careful around me.  Anyway, who is
Jimmy Masserella?"  "Jimmy is the guy who wants to take over the casinos.
He has already forced some of the smaller owners to sell to him.  My family
has been in this state for a long time, when nobody wanted to be here.  We
waited patiently for the casinos to be voted in, and now when we are finally
about to cash in, Jimmy is trying to muscle in.  We're actually two branches
of the same family, so to speak, so the big guys aren't going to take sides. 
They will stand by until it's over, then back the winner."  Johnny paused for
breath, then continued.  "This isn't gonna work." he said.  "They think they
can scare my father into selling to them by snatching me.  He won't do it. 
He doesn't scare easily, and can't be intimidated.  Why they took you, I don't
know.  They must really think you're my girlfriend.  I'm sorry that you got
caught up in this."     Rusty shrugged.  "Trouble always seems to find me no
matter where I go." she sighed.  Their hands were not tied, they were free to
move about the room.  Jimmy's men figured what can two people do against
so many armed men, especially if one of them is a woman.  That was their
first mistake.


Rusty strode over to the door and knocked loudly.  "Whaddya want?" came
from the other side.  "I have to go to the bathroom." she said.  "Shit!"
growled the man on the other side of the door.  They could hear the key
turning in the lock.  "Okay, Sweetcheeks, let's go." he said.  Rusty checked
up and down the hall as she was escorted to the bathroom.  On the hall there
was a restroom like she would find in a fancy hotel.  There were other men
on either end of the hall, but only this one who had been sitting in a chair by
the door to the room in which they were being held.  Rusty finished in the
bathroom and the man was escorting her back.  As they reached the door,
Rusty turned and faced him.  She put her left arm around his shoulders with
her hand resting on the back of his neck.  Rusty smiled at him.  He was a
fairly large man,  about six feet one inch and around two hundred pounds.
"Thanks, honey, I really had to go bad!" she said still smiling.  The other
mobsters had moved out of sight at the ends of the hallway.  Rusty saw that
out of the corner of her eye.  Since they were gone she put her plan into
action.  Her right fist snapped up and crashed into the man's jaw.  The fist
traveled only ten to twelve inches,  but driven by her powerful arm and
shoulder muscles, it was more than enough.  The man was out like a light. 
Only Rusty's strong left arm and hand kept his head from snapping way
back and prevented him from slipping to the floor.  She lowered him into the
chair.  To everyone on either end of the hall if they happened to look, it
would appear that he was sitting in the chair guarding the door.  Rusty took
his keys and gun and whispered in his ear "My name's not Sweetcheeks"
then slipped back into the room.  Johnny looked up as she reentered the
room.  Rusty handed him the pistol and the keys.  "Where did you get
these?" he asked with a puzzled look on his face.  "The guard outside the
door is taking a little nap, and I'm keeping these for him" she said with a
grin.  "What if he wakes up?" Johnny asked.  "I don't think he'll be doing
that for thirty minutes or so. I gave him  my special sleeping pill." Rusty
answered.  "We have plenty of time.  How is the best way to get out of
here?"   "We can't take a chance on the elevator." Johnny said.  The stairs
are to our left, so we can try to sneak out that direction and see what
happens."  He cracked the door open.  He could see the guard in the chair
outside the door, and it seemed that the mobsters on that level had settled
down, none of them were visible from the door.  "It's clear for now." he
whispered to Rusty.  They quietly slipped out the door.  Johnny glanced
down at the guard as they left the room.  There was a large purplish lump
forming on his jaw, and he was obviously not taking his "nap" by choice. 
Now he knew exactly what kind of sleeping pill Rusty had administered. 
Johnny just shook his head in wonder at this woman.  Quietly they moved
down the hall toward the stairs.  No sound or movement could be detected.   
They reached the end of the hallway and the stairs.  There was one man
stationed there.  Johnny leveled the pistol at him and very quietly told him
not to make a sound.  The man was surprised by their sudden appearance
and momentarily obeyed.  He was just about to open his mouth to sound the
alarm when Rusty stepped forward and drove her fist viciously into his
unsuspecting belly.  Instead of a shout the air rushed from his body in a soft
whoosh.  Before he could recover,  Rusty brought her other fist up in a
powerful uppercut smashing into his chin.  The man's head snapped back,
his knees gave way, and he started to fall.  Rusty caught him and lowered
him carefully to the floor.  Johnny shook his head in wonder again.  Now he
understood how her knuckles had developed the scar tissue covering them.
"I guess he got the same sleeping pill that you gave to the guard on our
room." he commented.  "He was going to yell, and you couldn't shoot him,
the sound of the shot would have the same effect.  That was the only thing
left to do to keep him quiet." Rusty answered.  The crept down the stairs
without any further incidents.  There was a side door close to the stairs, and
they slipped through it and out of the house.   Carefully they made their way
around to the big parking area in front.  Johnny scouted around and found
that only one man was on duty in the parking area.  They tried to stealthily
approach him, but when they were about ten feet away, the man turned and
saw them.  Rusty stood up.  "Hi, Honey," she purred and slowly advanced
on him.  The man appeared to be mesmerized for a moment, which was all
Rusty needed.  She was standing right in front of him.   Suddenly her knee
rose up and smashed into his groin.  The man groaned and dropped to his
knees grabbing at his balls.  It was easy for Rusty to grab his head and shove
it forward so she could smash her knee into his chin and put him away.  "I
hope I didn't rip my jeans." she said to Johnny as she shoved the
unconscious thug out of the way.  They found the van and opened it with the
keys.  This is where Johnny's experience paid off.  Rusty would had jumped
in, fired up the motor and raced out as fast as the van would go.  Johnny got
it started, coasted out of the parking area with the lights still off, and didn't
really step on it until they were well clear of the compound.  Johnny couldn't
tell exactly where they were, but he knew that eventually, the road should
lead either into town or an intersection with a main road.  They rode in
silence for a while.  Finally they crossed a road whose name and number
Johnny recognized.  He broke the silence.  "I know where we are!" he
exclaimed happily.  He turned on the road and headed for home.  By the
time they reached Johnny's house it was nearly three in the morning.  "I
guess I missed the bus back to my hotel" Rusty said.  "Stay here tonight, I
have plenty of room, and I'll take you back to New Orleans tomorrow."
Johnny said.  Rusty agreed.  Johnny opened the door.  From the entry foyer
Rusty could see the house was one big open area with a large stone double
sided fireplace right in the middle.  Various seating arrangements utilizing
sofas and chairs were on both sides of the fireplace.  There was a dining area
and she could see a very modern looking kitchen just past it.  Johnny led her
to the stairs to the second level.  There were four bedrooms.  One of them
was set up to be Johnny's office with computer, fax machine, the works. 
"That's my bedroom at the end of the hall." Johnny said pointing.  "You can
use this one, it's the guest room.".  He showed Rusty into a well appointed
large bedroom with a bath.  "Why don't you take a shower and relax. 
There's a robe hanging up in there.  Meantime I'll see if I can rustle up
something for us to eat."   Rusty sighed.  She was tired.  "I think I'll take you
up on that" she said.   The bathroom was exceptionally large for a guest
bath.  Rusty turned on the shower and undressed.  She cast an appraising eye
in the mirror again.  She ran her hands over the huge muscles of her thighs,
up over her rippling hard belly to her breasts.  He hands lingered there for
just an instant before running first one hand then the other over the bulging
muscles of her arms and shoulders.  "He must have some clue." she thought.
"After all, he saw me knock out those guys.  No little Barbie Doll could
have done that".   She stepped into the shower letting the hot water flow
over her tense muscles slowly washing the tension away.  She was feeling
refreshed when she stepped out.  There was a large white terrycloth robe
hanging on the back of the door.  She put it on and headed downstairs,
padding along on bare feet.  She could hear sounds coming from the kitchen
and the smell of frying bacon and scrambled eggs reminded her how hungry
she was.  She had not eaten dinner. 


Johnny had taken a quick shower and changed too.  He was wearing a navy
blue polo shirt and  khaki shorts.  He waved as Rusty entered the kitchen. 
She saw the two plates and silverware were laid out on the kitchen table. 
"Food's almost ready.  Why don't you get the bread out of the box up over
the 'fridge and drop it in the toaster over there?" he pointed to the toaster. 
There was fresh coffee already made in the Braun coffemaker sitting on the
counter and two mugs beside it.  Rusty did as requested and just as Johnny
finished the eggs, the toast was ready.  He brought over the two skillets one
filled with fluffy scrambled eggs, the other with crisp bacon.  Rusty poured
the coffee, and they sat at the table.  It was obvious they were both famished
because they wolfed down their food in silence.  They finished in record
time, and  both let out a big sigh almost simultaneously.  "Tell me how you
got into the casino business and what the hell is going on now." Rusty
requested.  Johnny proceeded to tell her the whole story.  His father,
Aflredo, and Jimmy Masserella had grown up together in New Orleans. 
They had both advanced through the ranks of the Mafia at about the same
pace.  Then Alfredo had married Johnny's mother and moved to Biloxi,
Mississippi, essentially leaving Jimmy as the sole heir to the leadership of
the Mafia in New Orleans.  Alfredo knew that Mississippi was a very poor
state, ranking near the bottom in almost every economic category.  He had
correctly guessed that it would be only a matter of time before legalized
gambling would be voted in because the projected income for the state
would be enormous both from the tax money generated and the jobs created
and the spending done by tourists.  Alfredo had positioned himself as a
legitimate business man, and had developed many political connections
within the state.  It was a simple matter when gambling became legal to get
the franchise to operate three casinos.  Always one to look ahead, Alfredo
had tried to prepare his children to succeed in this industry.  Maria, his
daughter had gone to U.C.L.A., then to Stanford Business School, and was
the family accountant.  Johnny had graduated from the University of
Mississippi but had then Attended Harvard Business School and handled
sales and marketing for the family.  When these enterprises first started, the
two old friends had worked together, with Jimmy Masserella supporting
Alfredo Fargo.  However, as the casino business became more successful,
the illegal gambling in New Orleans began to dry up.  It started to adversely
affect the Masarella family's income.  Jimmy first tried to buy into the Fargo
casino's and his old friend Aflredo did sell him a twenty five percent
interest.  However, Jimmy now, for some unexplainable reason, wanted to
control them and the trouble started.  Now the two old friends had become
bitter enemies.  The trouble had continued to escalate until recently it had
become a full fledged war.  The latest episode was the kidnapping of Johnny
and Rusty.   "I really can't imagine "Uncle Jimmy" as I used to call him
being behind this." Johnny continued.  I truly believe that Sam Gianola is
behind this.  He came down from New York, and I think he couldn't stand to
see our success go unchallenged and had poisoned Jimmy's thinking,
making him believe we are somehow looking down on him.  If we could get
through to "Uncle Jimmy" I believe the whole mess could be cleared up, but
as long as Sammie Boy is there, it is impossible to do. So now you have my
story, it's time for you to tell me yours." Johnny said.  Rusty filled him in on
her background, about her parents being killed, the foster homes, even the
biker gangs she ran with.  She left out the part about her work as an enforcer
for Vince Castellano, not wanting Johnny to know about her possible mob
connections.  She made a mental note to call Vince and see what his take
was on the Fargo-Masarella situation.  He was always in the know when it
came to mob politics.  "It's time to get some sleep." Johnny said.  He
followed Rusty up the stairs, stopping at the door to her bedroom. 
"Goodnight" she said and disappeared into the bedroom.  Johnny shrugged
and made his way to his room.  He realized that he was not sleepy.  The
bedroom next to his was his office.  He went in there and found the latest
figures on a marketing survey he had commissioned.  He took this report
back to his bedroom, propped up on the pillows and soon was lost in the
report.  Rusty removed the robe and flopped on the bed.  She was bone tired.

She lay nude on the bed.  She retraced her activities for the evening in her
mind starting with the encounter with Willie and Freddie in the alley.  As
she recalled her fists ripping into Freddie, she began to twist and turn on the
bed, and she began to get wet, again.  She slipped her hand down and rubbed
her clit.  As she recalled how her fists sunk wrist deep in the punks gut, she
almost climaxed right there.  She was not tired now.  She got up and put on
the robe.  Johnny was still engrossed in the report when he heard the door
open.  Rusty stood there clad in her robe.  "So, you couldn't sleep either," 
Johnny said to her.  "No, I couldn't" Rusty answered and moved toward the
bed.  As she did, she opened the robe and let is slide from her body.  She
was wearing nothing underneath it.  Johnny's sharp intake of breath was
audible as he saw her body.  To Rusty this was the critical moment.  She
never knew how men would react to her body.  Some were very turned on
by her beauty and large breasts combined with her amazing musculature. 
Many were turned off by her bulging muscles.  She hoped Johnny fit in the
first group.  "I can see why you had no trouble taking those thugs out" he
said.  "I definitely look different from most women" Rusty said.  "You're
gorgeous" Johnny said.  "I never thought muscles could look this good."  "I
have worked very hard to get and to maintain this body." Rusty said.  "I've
spent a lot of time lifting weights.  It comes in handy in my work."  "What
kind of work do you do?" Johnny asked.  "I'm in the financial business."
Rusty replied.  Johnny didn't follow this line of questioning, since Rusty
quickly covered the five feet separating her from the bed, her big thighs
clenching and flexing as she walked.  Johnny seemed overwhelmed by her. 
Rusty climbed on the bed next to him, and lay back on the pillow, her
breasts pointing straight up on top of her thick chest.  Johnny could feel the
heat radiating from her body next to him.  He put down the reports he had
been holding.  When he did, Rusty rolled over and put her upper body on
his, chest to chest, her breasts pressing down into his chest.  Her face was
inches from his.  Her tongue flicked out and hit the tip of his nose.  Johnny
leaned forward and kissed her.   During the kiss, Rusty took his shorts in
both hands and ripped them from his body.    She flipped the rest of her
body over, her hips resting between his legs.  Rusty could feel Johnny
getting hard as she was lying on top of him.  Finally they broke the kiss. 
Johnny took her breast in his mouth and began to suck on it.  He caught the
nipple between his teeth and nibbled on it.   He started to slide underneath
her, his tongue working its way down her armour plated  belly, flicking in
and out of her bellybutton, back up to her breasts again.  He tried to  roll
Rusty over onto her back, but she planted her thick arms on either side of his
head and wouldn't budge.  "Okay," he said, and his mouth worked down her
hard belly again.  This time he slid his body under hers and soon his mouth
was at her pussy.  He started licking, and nibbling her clit, then his tongue
plunged inside the folds of her pussy lips, and he was tonguing away like
mad.  He could taste her, and he continued at a frenetic pace with his tongue.

As he increased his activity Johnny could feel Rusty's huge thighs
contracting  and speeded up his pace,  Rusty could feel her orgasm start to build as
Johnny's tongue kept working.  When it hit, her whole body spasmed in
ecstasy.  Johnny kept his mouth working right through the orgasm.  When it
was over, he pulled his face which was coated with her juices out from
under her.  Rusty moved so that his rigid member was right at the entrance
to her pussy.  She slid down just over the tip and began to slowly rotate her
hips around it.  Johnny was about to go off.  Rusty suddenly thrust down
with her hips, impaling herself on his entire length.  She just sat there for a
minute, enjoying the sensation.  Slowly she began to move, picking up
speed, Johnny rose to meet her, and tried to keep up with the pace she was
setting.   They both exploded in a wild climax.  "My God, that's the best I've
ever had" Johnny panted, trying desperately to catch his breath.  Rusty
smiled down at him.  She wasn't even breathing hard.  "You're out of shape,
Johnny." she said.  She patted his belly where a little roll of fat had
developed.  "You should get back in the gym, and work out." she continued.
  "Look what happens when you do."  Rusty sat back and flexed her arms for
him.  The huge cannonballs seemed to explode from her skin.  Johnny
reached up and felt them.  They were hard as rocks and his hand wouldn't go
half way around them.  He started kissing them, tracing the splits with his
tongue.  Rusty could feel the build-up starting in her pussy again.  The more
he kissed and licked, the harder she flexed.  Johnny was sure nails would
bend against those round masses of iron hard tissue.  He traced the brachial
artery across the top of her right biceps and to her shoulder and back.  Just as
her reached the peak again with his tongue, she exploded with another
orgasm.  When it had subsided, Johnny, now holding her biceps again, said 
"Damn, those things are the biggest I've ever seen, and harder than iron. 
You are remarkable."  Rusty grinned at him.  The sun was coming up. 
Johnny took her hand in his.  He ran his lips over the scar tissue over her
knuckles.  "How did you get this?" he asked.  "By administering what you
called your special sleeping pills like you gave those two goons of Sammie's
back at Jimmy's house?"  She rolled off the bed and said "Let's take a
shower."  She didn't answer his question.   

Johnny didn't say anything, he just got out of the bed and went in and turned
on the water.  He knew that he would not get an answer from Rusty, but he
also knew that her fists had administered some brutal beatings for her to
have scar tissue like he just saw over her knuckles.  She surprised him with a
partial answer.  "If we run into this Sam Gianola, I'll show you how I got it. 
I am going to break his jaw for calling me a bimbo.  So if we run into him
again you leave him to me."  Rusty said.  "Now let's take our shower."  They
climbed into the big shower in Johnny's bedroom.  They soaped and washed
each other off.  Johnny very carefully cleaned Rusty's pussy trying to
stimulate her again as he did, but she reached down and removed his hand so
that he was not successful in his efforts.  She noticed he was hard when she
washed him.  When they finished, they climbed out of the shower and Rusty
put the robe back on.  Only her thick, vascular, forearms and bulging calves
were not covered by the terrycloth.  "We're going to pay Mr. Gianola and his
troops a little visit today, do you want to come along?  I'm sure you can take
care of yourself it these situations.  You might run into your dear friend
Sammie.  We're gonna try to snatch Jimmy and bring him to talk to my
dad." Johnny told her.  "You couldn't keep me away." Rusty replied.  "I need
to make a phone call." she said.  "Use the phone in your bedroom." Johnny
told her.  Rusty went to the bedroom and called Vince Castellano, her boss
in New York.  "Hi Vince,  What can you tell me about a guy named Sam
Gianola?" she asked.  After exchanging a few pleasantries, Vince said
"Sammie boy is very ambitious.  He went to New Orleans to move up in the
organization.   He is a tough guy, likes to beat people up.  Offers them the
first shot by sticking out his chin.  It's like hitting a brick wall.  Then he
takes them apart."  "I think I might be taking him on." Rusty told Vince.  "If
he pulls that first shot shit, take it, but don't hit his chin, it's like iron, find
another target."  "Do you think I can take him, Vince?" Rusty asked.  "I
haven't seen anybody I didn't think you could take, honey.  Johnny got on
the phone, lining up the men he planned to take on the retaliatory raid.  They
would hit an illegal casino in New Orleans, where Jimmy Masarella kept an
office, and he was usually there during the day.   Johnny and Rusty drove to
the casino owned by the Fargos.  Their men were convening there.  They
loaded up into vans and cars and headed for New Orleans.   They turned
onto the street where the Masarella casino was.  They caught the guards and
lookouts unaware and neutralized them immediately.  The first time anyone
knew they were there was when Johnny called out for everyone to freeze. 
Jimmy came out of his office to see what all the commotion was.  "Hello
Johnny, how are you?" he asked.  "Just fine, Uncle Jimmy." he answered.  "I
would like for you to come with me.  My father would like to sit down with
you and work out your differences."   "It may be too late for that, Johnny."
Jimmy said, shaking his head.  Sam Gianola made his entrance stomping
into the discussion.  "We should be running the casinos, not you!" he
snarled.  "And we will be before long!" he added.  "Sammie, there's
someone here who wants to see you." Johnny told him.  Rusty stepped
forward.  "The bimbo!" Sam exclaimed.  "I'm gonna break your jaw for
calling me a bimbo." Rusty calmly said to him.  "Sure you are, bimbo," Sam
said and laughed.  "If I don't it won't be from lack of effort" Rusty said.  She
was wearing the same outfit from last night.  The jeans with the denim
jacket which she now took off.  She turned to face Sam Gianola with
everyone looking at her magnificent body.  "Wow, a muscle bimbo.  Now
I'm really scared" from Sam.  Her  huge arms and  shoulders bulged and her
flat, hard belly was clearly seen under the cut off halter top.   Sam stuck out
his chin.  "Go ahead, bimbo, I'll give you a free shot first."  "Don't mind if I
do" Rusty replied.  She cocked her right fist.  Everyone could see the bulge
of her biceps as she drew that fist back.  Suddenly she accelerated it right at
his face.  It was not headed for his jaw or chin as Sam and everyone else
thought.   CRRAACCKKK!!! Rusty's big sledgehammer of a fist smashed
into Sam's nose with a loud crack that indicated she had broken it.  Blood
from Sam's crushed nose splattered out around Rusty's big fist and on her
halter top and ran down Sam's chin and splashed on his shirt.  He staggered
back about three steps and fell on his butt.  "Fuckin' bimbo.  You broke my
fuckin' nose!"  He mumbled.  "I sure meant to" was Rusty's answer.  "Do
you allow your opponent a free shot like that all the time?  If you do I'm
surprised that you haven't gotten more broken noses than this one." Rusty
commented.  Sam sat there on the floor with blood pouring out of his
crushed nose.  Rusty walked over to him and took hold of his hair.  She
hauled him to his feet.  Sam had tears running down his face and mixing
with the blood from his nose.  Rusty wound up and buried her fist in his
belly.  OOOFFFF!! came from Sam.  This was not going to be a fight, it was
going to be a massacre.  By giving Rusty the first free swing, which she
took, Sam lost the fight.  Now Rusty set about administering a thorough
beating.  Another blast into his belly.  UUUNNNNGGHHHH!!! as her fist
disappeared in his gut.  Sam started to gag, and up came his breakfast on to
the floor.  Once again Rusty showed her experience with this, and stepped
back so that none of the refuse got on her as Sam sank to his knees and
puked his guts out.  "Pretty weak belly, there, Sammie boy, to puke after
only two gut punches.  You're a real wimp, but there is a lot more to come!"
Rusty stepped up and grabbed his hair again hauling Sam to his feet. 
Between his belly and his nose Sam was in terrible pain.  He couldn't even
defend himself as Rusty set herself and drove another punch ripping into his
damaged belly, this time with her left fist.  As his head came down from the
belly punch, Rusty's right fist was rising to meet it.  About level with her
beltline the two collided. 
CCCRRRAAACCCKKKKKK!!!  Sam's head snapped back so far that it
might have touched his back. A shower of red interspersed with broken teeth
sprayed out of his mouth as a result of the powerful uppercut.  Sam was
down again.  Rusty looked down at him.  Nearly unconscious, blood
pouring out of his nose, and his mouth, mixing with the remains of his puke
that was on his chin, he looked awful.  "I still haven't kept my promise to
you, Sammie boy.  I guess it's time to do that and end this fiasco."  Once
again Rusty grasped his hair.  "Up you go" she said.  When she released her
hold on his hair Sam was wobbling so badly that he almost went down
again.  Rusty quickly reached out and steadied him.  "You don't want to
miss this, Sammie boy." she said.  She grasped Sam's jaw with her left hand
and tilted it up and to his left.  She held it there as she pulled back that lethal
right fist again.  "Let's see how much iron is in that chin."  Rusty said.  Her
shoulders turned, her hips turned, and her weight shifted back on to her right
foot.  She stepped forward with he left foot, getting a full weight shift into
the punch that she launched at Sam..  Her powerful triceps exploded with
power propelling her big fist at her chosen target, Sam's chin.

KKKKKKKRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKK!!!!!
Rusty's fist smashed into Sam's chin like a missile detonating on target.  The
sound of that detonation filled the room.  She could feel the bone split and
then crumble under her big rocklike fist.  Rusty had executed this kind of
punch once before in a fight she had up in Kentucky on her way down to
New Orleans. Again, her hard fist had split the bone that held both jaws
together, so that his jaw on either side had dislocated from the joint.  The
results of the vicious smash were spectacular!   Another spray of blood and
teeth flew through the air, as Sam lifted off the floor did a one hundred and
eighty degree turn in the air and crashed face down on the floor, out cold. 
Rusty walked over to her victim and checked his face.  "Yep, its broken, just
like I promised him I would do." she said. Sam lay there on the floor with
blood pooling as it ran out of his mouth and down from his nose. Parts of
broken teeth were also in the bloody pool and hung down from his mouth on
strings of tissue.  His nose was just a swollen pulp of crushed bloody tissue.
  Rusty moved over to Jimmy Masarella and put her arm around his
shoulder.  "Why don't you come with me, and we'll see if we can't put an
end to this silly war." she said  Jimmy looked down at the bleeding mess
that used to be Sam Gianola, and said "Why not, If you can do what you did
to Sam, then you deserve to be heard."   Rusty escorted Jimmy to the door, 
Johnny spoke to the rest of Jimmy's gang.  "Uncle Jimmy is going with us.  I
guarantee his safety.  Anyone who tries to hurt him will have to deal with
the young lady there"  he said pointing at Rusty.  "We'll return him here
tonight." 


They loaded Jimmy into the van with Rusty and Johnny.  Rusty said
nothing, she just sat there with her arm around Jimmy.  He reached out and
touched her arm.  She flexed it for him.  Jimmy ran his hand over the
bulging muscle, feeling its hardness and looked into the eyes of the woman
who had just destroyed his muscle man.  Sam's blood still stained her halter
top, and her fists were red with it.   Jimmy took her hand in his, "I don't
know where they found you, but with a couple more like you we could take
over the whole organization."  Jimmy gave her a wan smile as he said that.   
"Johnny talks about you all the time.  He misses having the chance to talk to
you.  How did this ever get so far?" Rusty said to Jimmy.  "We were losing
money.  Sam came down from New York, and blamed it all on the casinos
taking away our business.  Aflredo sold me an interest in the casinos that he
owns to make up for the lost revenue.  I should have not listened  to
Sammie.  He wanted to take over everything.  He would have tried to get rid
of me, if we had been successful." Jimmy told this with just a hint of
bitterness in his voice.   The van arrived at the Fargo casino.  Jimmy was
escorted by Rusty and Johnny to Alfredo's office.  "Hello, Alfredo."  Jimmy
said.  Alfredo stood up behind his desk and stared at the sight in front of
him.  Jimmy standing with the beautiful woman with the red hair, who had
blood splattered all over her top, and Johnny standing on the other side of
Jimmy.  Aflredo walked around his desk, and approached Jimmy.  He
reached out and hugged Jimmy.  "Welcome, old friend." he said.  "Perhaps
we can work out a way to stop this stupid war."  Alfredo continued.   The
phone rang.  Johnny answered it.  All he did was listen, then hung up. 
"They have taken Sammie to the hospital.  His chin was shattered, jaw was
dislocated, his nose was broken, and most of his teeth were broken or
knocked out." Johnny reported to the group.  He looked at his father. " Rusty
did that," he explained to Alfredo.  "Sammie called her a bimbo and she
didn't like it.  She made him pay a pretty steep price for what he said and
did.  There was blood and teeth all over the floor."  "Come, let's sit down
and work our way through this." Alfredo said.   The two men sat on a leather
sofa in the conference area of the office.  Johnny stood next to Rusty.  "I
need to wash my hands" she whispered to him.  Johnny pointed to the
bathroom in the office.  "Over there" he said.  Rusty went in the bathroom
and washed Sam's blood off of her fists. Sadly she checked the halter top she
was wearing, aware that she could not get the blood out of it.   She rejoined
Johnny when she had finished.  "When this is over, I'm gonna fuck your
brains out" she whispered in his ear.

"First, Sam Gianola has got to go." Alfredo said to Jimmy.  "He has been the
cause of the problem.  Ever since he got here he has been stirring up trouble
between us."  "I agree" Jimmy said.  "I'll ship his butt back to New York as
soon as he gets out of the hospital."  The two old friends acted like nothing
had ever come between them as they worked out a solution to their
problems.  Alfredo generously offered Jimmy the opportunity to purchase
forty nine percent of the new casino that they were building in Gulfport.   
And arranged to buy all of their food supplies from one of the companies
owned by Jimmy.  In less than an hour they had come to an agreement on
ending the war between them, and Alfredo was ordering lunch to be
delivered to them.  "Bring a couple of bottles of my favorite wine, too." he
added at the end of his order.   

"I need to get back to my hotel and change clothes."  Rusty said to Johnny. 
"I'll drive you back" Johnny replied.  "Young lady, you should stay here and
work for us.  After seeing you in action, I don't think there is any situation
that you could not handle.  Just think how it would look.  A beautiful
woman who packs a knockout punch in either hand.  You know that the
have female boxing in Mississippi.  You should look into that.  It can pay
pretty well."  Jimmy said to Rusty.
Thanks, Mr. Massarella, but I don't need the money.  I work for Vince
Castellano in New York.
"You're the female enforcer that Vinnie has, aren't you?" he asked.  "Yes, I
am" Rusty answered.
Johnny had a very surprised look on his face when he heard this bit of news.
They had all heard about the female enforcer that Vince had employed, and
that everyone now paid him on time, because they did not want a visit from
the woman who collected for Vince.  Now they learned that Rusty was that
woman.  "I like my work." Rusty continued.  "It allows me to make good
money, and not use my trustfund, and gives me the chance to beat up
deadbeats.  The only problem is that now everyone pays up, and there is no
collecting to do.  That is why I'm on this vacation trip that brought me to
New Orleans."  She gravely shook hands with both of the older men, then
Johnny drove her back to New Orleans.  He spent the night at her hotel with
the sexual activity carrying far into the night.  Johnny left very early the next
morning.  Rusty went down to have breakfast in the hotel coffee shop.  She
picked up a newspaper from the machine in front of the hotel.  "Gangland
war escalates"  the headline read.  "Sam Gianola, reported second in
command to "Gentleman Jimmy" Massarella, boss of the New Orleans
mafia, was admitted to Tulane hospital  with a boken nose, a compound
fracture of his chin and jaw, several broken and missing teeth.  A team of
maxillo facial plastic surgeons worked on him for six hours rebuilding his
shattered face, then the dental team worked on his teeth, finding that so
many of them were missing or broken stumps at the gum line they
eventually had to pull what few remained of them and fit him for dentures. 
Mr. Gianola will be in the hospital for several more days recuperating from
his surgery.  It was obvious that he had been severely beaten, but Mr.
Gianola was not revealing any information to the police or press regarding
the incident.  The rumor making the rounds was that a woman administered
the beating to Mr. Gianola.  The woman, described as a gorgeous redhead
has not been seen since. The New Orleans police would like to speak to her
regarding this incident.  Rusty put down the paper and went back up to
her room.   She rummaged around in her clothes until she found what she
was looking for.  She got dressed and went downstairs and hailed a cab. 
"Tulane Hospital" she told the driver.

Sam Gianola was in pain.  The doctors had stopped his narcotics and had put
him on Ultram and it was not working.  He saw a nurse enter the room.  He
wanted to ask for more pain medication when the nurse approached his bed.
"Hello, Sammie boy" she said.  Her red hair was a dead giveaway.  Sam's
heart lurched as he saw her face.  "I just wanted to check on you to make
sure you were doing alright." she said.  "I have a feeling that Jimmy is going
to ask you to leave and go back to New York.  If I were you, I'd take his
suggestion.  If you're still here, after you get out of this hospital, I'm gonna
look you up and break your new face for you.  By the way, I live in New
York, too.  Maybe we can get together and finish our little dance sometime. 
I'm sorry about the teeth.  I only meant to knock out about half of them, and
it looks like I got a lot more of them than half.  They couldn't even find all
of them on the floor.  I hope the dentures look good."  Rusty stopped and
looked down at him.  She placed her fist against his jaw. Sam looked up her
arm and saw that huge ball of muscle just above her elbow.  "You just make
sure you get out of New Orleans, Sammie boy.  I would love an excuse to do
this again. Bye, now."  Rusty smiled down at him, rubbed his jaw with her
fist,  and strode out of the room.  Sam felt his breathing return to normal. 
This woman scared him.  He had never been hit so hard or so often in his
life as he had been hit by this redhead.  He wanted nothing else to do with
her right now.  He vowed to look her up in New York and blow her brains
out.  That would make him feel better. 

Rusty got back to the hotel and changed out of the nurse's uniform.   She put
on her usual uniform of jeans, cropped tee shirt, and denim jacket.  She
started to pack.  If the New Orleans police were looking for her, she would
get out of town and continue her tour.  She called Johnny and told him
goodbye. He pleaded with her to stay and work with him.  "Look, Johnny,
you're a good fuck, but let's not get carried away." she finally told him.   She
went down to the front desk and paid her bill.  Then she went out to her
Harley-Davidson motorcycle and headed out of town.   

[Chainer★]

The Road Trip Part 4
By Arby



The Texas landscape was flat.  Nothing in sight on either side
of the highway but oil derricks as the motorcycle wound
through the countryside.  A small town came into sight.  The
sign said Libertyville, Texas, population 23,000.  The area
around the town seemed to be divided into two types, huge
expensive looking houses and small, crowded together houses,
duplexes, trailers, and apartments.  This was Texas oil
country where towns were populated by the haves and the have-
nots.  The rider checked the gauge and found that the gas tank
was bordering on empty.  The motorcycle, a Harley Davidson,
cruised in to a gas station.  The rider dismounted, checked
the oil, and made sure everything was in working order, then
started filling the gas tank of the big bike.  At the gas pump
directly across from her a Hispanic looking woman was putting
gas into a dilapidated looking pickup truck that had
definitely seen better days.  Three young men in a new BMW 740
pulled up behind the woman and began hassling her.  They began
to first verbally abuse her, then one of the men shoved her. 
"That's the way Aaron.", one of the men said.  "Show the bitch
what happens to people who cross Ross Adams."  The motorcycle
rider observed this whole scene being played out.  "Yeah,
Larry." the first man answered.  "Mr. Adams doesn't like not
to get his way.  He hates unions and union people."  The man
who had been called Aaron shoved the woman again. "Union
organizing bitch!"  he shoved the woman again.  "Please, I
don't want any trouble." the woman said with a slight accent. 
"Lady, when you got involved with that union, you got
trouble." the third man who had been lounging against the BMW
spoke up.  "Aaron, show the lady what we mean."  The cyclist
sighed and removed the helmet.  Bright red hair suddenly
cascaded down over the denim jacket the rider was wearing.  It
was a woman!.  The woman with the red hair then removed the
light blue denim jacket and carefully placed it on the seat of
the big Harley.  She walked over to where the woman was
standing and said in a low, musical voice.  "Why don't you
gentlemen leave the lady alone? All she wants to do is get her
gas and leave."  The one called Larry spoke up.  "Well now,
hello there big boobs.  What can we do for you this fine day?" 
"What's your name?" the redhead asked.  "Larry" was his reply. 
"I guess these two are Curley and Moe" the woman said
gesturing toward the other two men.  "Well, big boobs and a
smart mouth.  That's quite a combination to have darlin'." 
the one called Aaron chimed in.  " Maybe we can find another
use for that smart mouth before the day's over.  Hal, what do
you think of our new friend Big Boobs, here" Larry asked.  The
third man said,  "This in none of your affair.  Why don't you
just move on to where ever you were going and let us take care
of our business with Juanita." he pointed at the Hispanic
woman.  The redhead let out a big sigh.  "I wish I could do
that, but I think your business would be harmful to her health
so I can't." 

The three men took a good look at the woman for the first
time.  She was tall, as tall as them, it seemed at least 5'
10".  Her flame red hair hung down over her shoulders.  She
had a classic model's face with high cheekbones and full lips. 
A sprinkling of freckles across her nose added to rather than
detracted from her beauty.  The big boobs they had first
noticed jutted out from her chest.  She was wearing motorcycle
boots.  Her jeans had been custom made to fit over her huge
thighs and still be tight around her slim waist.  From the
waist up she was a marvel.  Boulder sized shoulders stuck out
of her sleeveless tee shirt.  Mountainous biceps seemed to
explode up from her arms when she moved them.  Triceps like
thick cables offset the movement of her biceps.  Big forearms
with large blue veins prominently crisscrossing them. 
Unusually large hands, at least for a beautiful woman, 
hanging from wrists that were also thicker than average.   
Wide back with lats flaring out to test the ability of the cut
off tee shirt to contain it.  Thick chest with those boobs the
men referred to jutting straight out from it.   "Jesus Big
Boobs, you some kind of weight lifter?" asked Larry. 
"Something like that" the woman answered.  "Why don't you boys
just move along and leave the lady alone, before someone gets
hurt." she said.   "I wish we could do that, but we can't."
Hal said.  "Get the greaser, boys."  Aaron reached for Juanita
again, but the redhead's strong arm reached out and grabbed
his collar and pulled him away.  "I said leave her alone!" she
said.  "Big Boobs, if you want part of this, you can have all
you want.  We could take you over here behind the station and
fuck you when we're done."  Larry growled.  "If you don't get
out of here you won't be able to fuck anything for a long
time."  the woman answered.  "Okay, Big Boobs. You asked for
it." Hal said "Let's tak'em both boys!"  The three men rushed
the redhead and Juanita.  Her motorcycle boot flashed out
towards Aaron's groin.  He saw the kick coming and turned
sideways so the heavy boot with its steel toe landed on his
upper thigh.  He dropped to the ground holding his leg,
screaming in pain.  "The bitch broke my leg!" over and over
again.  Hal reached for her.  She grabbed his arm and whipped
him into the side of Juanita's truck.  He hit it and bounced
off and fell to the ground, stunned for the moment.  "That
leaves you and me, Larry baby.  Come and get me." the woman
chided him.   Larry cautiously moved toward the big woman. 
"This is gonna be fun.  First I'm gonna whip yur ass, then I'm
gonna fuck you silly." he bragged.  "Silly is the right word. 
You're going to be punch drunk silly when I get through with
you!" the redhead told him.  That was too much for Larry's
ego.  He took a big swing at her with his right fist.  The
woman easily avoided the punch.  Larry tried another one. 
This time she blocked it with her left arm and whipped her big
right fist up into Larry's stomach.  The woman followed with
another punch just like the first one, except it was even
harder, sinking into Larry's belly up to the wrist.  Larry
forgot all about fighting and fucking and grabbed his injured
stomach with both hands.  The redhead smashed her right fist
into his nose splattering blood everywhere and snapping his
head back.  Then the woman brought her left fist around in a
tooth rattling left hook that smashed into Larry's jaw.  He
was unconscious before he hit the ground. 

The redhead looked around and saw Aaron still crawling around
on the ground whimpering about his injured leg.  "I'll put you
out of your misery." the woman told him.  She grasped his hair
in her left hand and turned his head up to face her.  She
cocked her big right fist and smashed his nose to a bloody
broken pulp.  Then with the same hard fist she sent an
uppercut with the power and speed  of a runaway train crashing
into the underside of his jaw .  The velocity of the punch
ripped his hair from her left hand.  Aaron sprawled out cold
on the pavement.  The redhead turned to face Hal just as he
got to his feet.  "I'll kill you, bitch!" he shouted and
charged at her.  This time the woman stood her ground and her
left fist shot straight out from her shoulder and landed
squarely on Hal's nose.  CCRRUUNNCCHH!!! The crushing blow
from her massive fist flattened his nose and spread it across
his face.  Copious amounts of blood and mucous squirted out of
Hal's busted nose from the tremendous punch and splattered on
both of them.  The crunching sound of his nose being
demolished by her heavy fist could be heard all the way inside
the station by the attendant.  Hal stopped like he had run
into a wall and staggered back several steps grabbing his
face.   The woman moved with him.  She reached out with her
left hand and took both of his wrists in it and pulled them
away from his face.   Then she drew back her potent right fist
again and blasted a bomb that detonated on Hal's chin with
explosive force.  He flopped over backward and lay still.  She
smiled because she had seen a look in his eyes that said "I
can't believe that this is happening to me."  The big redhead
looked around at all three of the men who were unconscious and
bleeding.  "That should teach you not to fuck with Rusty
Walters!" she said to them, even though they could not hear
her. Rusty looked down at her shirt.  It was splattered with
blood from Hal's nose.  "Shit, I've  ruined another shirt. 
Blood is impossible to get out.  Damn it!"   She turned to the
woman named Juanita.  "I don't think they are going to be able
to bother you again, at least for several minutes." she said. 
The redhead extended her hand.  "Hi, my name is Rusty."  The
woman accepted the large hand that seemed to swallow up hers. 
"I'm Juanita." she said solemnly.  "Why were those bums after
you?" Rusty asked.   I work in the local factory that makes
parts for oil rigs.  It is owned by one of the local oil
production companies, Somers Oil Co.  They hire the local
people, who are mostly Mexican or Tex-Mex and pay wages that
you can't live on.  We are trying to organize a union to force
them to pay a living wage.  Since I have been involved in the
formation of the union I have been targeted by these thugs who
work for Somers.  They, of course, don't want the union to be
successful.  You would think that a situation like this could
not exist in this country anymore, but it sure does here in
Libertyville.  I haven't yet thanked you for your help, have
I?  As much as I appreciate it, that was unwise.  You should
get out of Libertyville before those punks wake up and sound
the alarm.  They will come looking for you."  Rusty looked at
the unconscious men again.  "They won't be waking up for a
while.  When Rusty knocks 'em out, they stay out for a while. 
These guys are probably good for at least an hour." she said. 
"You were fantastic!" Juanita said.  "Where did you learn to
fight like that?"  "Wicked childhood." Rusty smiled her
answer.  That was not exactly the truth.  Rusty had been born
to wealthy, doting parents who had been killed in a plane
crash when she was young.  They left her enough money that she
would never have to work if she didn't want to.  She went
through a severe depression on the death of her parents.  She
was in several foster homes but always seemed to get in
trouble.  As she grew older she was even mixed up with a
motorcycle gang for a while.  When she left them, she found
her present job, as an enforcer and collection agent for the
biggest loan shark in New York City, Vince Castellano.  She
had performed her duties so well that no one missed payments
to Vince anymore.  Rusty was on a cross country vacation trip
when she arrived in Libertyville.  She had already tangled
with moonshiners in Kentucky, a motorcycle gang in
Mississippi, and Mafia gambling interests in New Orleans on
her trip.  And now she had just crossed the most powerful man
in this part of Texas. 

"Maybe I should just ride on." Rusty thought.  "I sure don't
need another mess like the other three I have gotten involved
with. I always seem to find trouble or it finds me."    The
two women chatted for a few minutes and Juanita invited Rusty
to have dinner at her house.  "I'll fix you an authentic
Mexican dinner." Juanita promised.  That sounded too good to
refuse.  "Let me find a motel and get a room and I'll be
there." Rusty said.  Juanita gave her directions to her house
and left.  Rusty returned to her bike.  The hose from the gas
pump was still in the gas tank.  Rusty finished filling her
tank and went in to pay.  The attendant inside looked at her
with a mixture of awe and fear.  He knew that the three men
lying unconscious in his station were three of the toughest
enforcers for Ross Adams who was the number two man at Somers
Oil.  He had been brought in specifically to bust the union
organizing activity.  He had proceeded to hire toughs and
thugs to carry out his policy which basically was put anybody
involved with the union in the hospital.  For this redhead  to
have taken out one of them would have been quite an
accomplishment, but to knock out all three was unbelievable. 
All at once he was aware that the woman had asked him a
question and he had no idea what it was.  "I'm sorry, could
you repeat the question?" he realized he had been staring at
the beautiful redhead with the deadly fists and feet.  "Could
you recommend a good motel?" she asked.  "I don't mean to be
telling you your business but after what you did to those
three (he pointed toward the three unconscious thugs) you
ought to get out of town.  These are mean people and they will
come looking for you."  Rusty sighed.  "This won't be the
first time or the last" she said.  They needed a lesson in
manners in how to treat a lady and I'm just the teacher they
needed."  The attendant gave her directions to a Marriott
which was near the Interstate junction just out of town.
"Maybe you should call somebody to come and get these guys. 
They aren't going to feel much like driving when they finally
wake up."  Then  Rusty thanked him, paid her bill and left. 
The attendant gazed out at the three men sprawled around the
BMW, picked up the phone.  He placed a call to Somers Oil and
told them to send somebody to pick up the three men.   

Rusty rode over to the Marriott and checked in.  At the same
time three cars came screeching into the gas station.  Ross
Adams got out of his car and walked over to where his three
employees seemed to be sleeping peacefully.  He saw Hal first
with his smashed nose still dribbling blood.  One glance told
Ross that Hal's nose would never be the same again.  It looked
like it had been hit with a sledgehammer.  His nose was now
just a squashed pulp of mangled tissue, with his breath making
loud whistling sounds as it moved through the fractured
cartilage.  Hal also had a big bruise on his chin that was
rapidly changing color.  Aaron had blood dribbling out of his
mouth.  Upon further examination, his lower teeth and been
driven through his upper lip splitting and cutting it.  The
teeth were still intact, but the lip, which had ballooned up
to at least twice it's normal size, had to be pulled off the
teeth causing fresh blood to flow.  Larry had two teeth
hanging out the right side of his mouth and a huge lump on his
right jaw.  Ross shook his head as he looked down at his
three" bad ass" enforcers.  "My God, what the hell happened to
them?  What kind of buzzsaw did they run into?  Surely that
spic broad couldn't have  done all this." he asked.  The
attendant blurted out the story about the big redhead who took
out the three men.  "She was amazing Mr. Adams." he said. 
"One minute they were going for Juanita and the next minute
the redhead had laid all three of them out.  It was the
damnest thing I ever did see!  She looks like a movie star,
and hits like Mike Tyson!  The whole thing couldn't have taken
more than three minutes."  One of the other men spoke up. 
"Boss, it looks like Aaron's leg is broken on top of
everything else."  "Dammit who is this so called mystery
woman?  What is she doing involved in this?"  The attendant
answered.  "I don't know who she is, but she was going over
the Marriott to get a room when she left here."  "You want us
to go after her, Mr. Adams?" asked one of his men.  "No, just
go over there and find out who she is and where she's from. 
If she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, we can
let it go.  If she's involved with these union pricks, we'll
have to take some action.  Shorty, don't you know the desk
clerk over at the Marriott?"  The man he addressed as Shorty
answered affirmatively.  "Then get over there and see what you
can find out about this woman.  The rest of you get these guys
loaded into the cars and take'em to the hospital to get fixed
up.  Shorty, get a move on!".


The man Adams called Shorty fit the old joke, "I'm not fat, I
just short for my weight.".  He stood only about 5'6" and
weighed over two hundred pounds.   He had been all muscle at
one time, but overeating and excessive drinking had taken
their toll on his body, and while he was still solidly built,
he now had what Texans called Dunlop disease.  His belly "done
lopped" over his belt.  He was wearing a western style shirt
with jeans and a Stetson hat.   The huge belt buckle holding
up his jeans was hidden from his sight by his protruding gut. 
He struck up a conversation with the desk clerk, whom he knew
quite well.  He failed to notice the woman in question
standing by the elevator listening intently to his quizzing of
the clerk.  Shorty finally got around to asking about the new
arrival.  The clerk showed him the registration slip.  Rusty
Walters, New York City, New York.  Shorty thanked the clerk
and rapidly left the motel.  As he neared his car, he felt a
strong hand grasp his shoulder and spin him around.  "Why are
you asking questions about me?" he heard in a low, musical
voice as he found himself looking straight ahead into a large,
shapely pair of breasts.  He looked up and was staring into
icy blue eyes as the redhead towered over him.  The woman
asked "Why are you asking questions about me?  Who sent you? 
Who are you working for, and what is their interest in me?" 
Shorty stared at her.  Rusty had changed shirts, getting rid
of the blood splattered tee shirt she had been wearing and
replacing it with another one just like it only a different
color.  Shorty could see the bulging rippling muscles
exploding out of that shirt and shook his head.  "Looks like a 
damn anatomy chart.  I've never seen muscles like that
anywhere even on a man.  She must be roided out."   Rusty held
her grip on his shoulders.  "Either you're going to tell me
what I want to know or I'm going to beat you until you beg me
to let you tell me.  What's it going to be?"  Shorty thought
"Muscles or no muscles she's still a broad.  I can take her. 
She must have caught Hal and the boys by surprise. "  He
suddenly drove his knee up into her crotch, smashing it as
hard as he could.  The redhead released her hold on his
shoulders, and Shorty was free as the woman sank to her knees. 
If Shorty had been smart he would have run for his life, but
he thought he had everything under control.  Rusty was
groaning and clutching herself where his knee had slammed into
her most sensitive area.  Shorty decided he would get revenge
for his buddies, then haul her in to see Ross Adams.  He
grabbed her hair in both hands and lifted Rusty to her feet. 
He drove his fist into her belly.  Her rock hard abdominal
muscles absorbed the blow with minimal damage.  Again and
again Shorty pumped his fist into the woman's belly.  It was
impossible for him to tell that he was having no effect on her
with his punches.  They just bounced off her tight belly. 
Finally, Rusty had enough.  She pushed Shorty away, and said, 
"Let me show you how to throw belly punches!"  Before he could
react since he thought she would be barely able to stand up, 
Rusty buried her big right fist deep in Shorty's fat belly,
making all he air whoosh out of his body as he folded over,
around her fist.   "You must really be out of shape, one gut
punch and you're done.  Let me tell you a little story, I'm an
expert in gut punching as you are about to find out.  I love
driving my fists into  fat, soft bellies like yours.  The only
question is will you puke before you pass out?"  Having said
that the woman set out to prove her claim as a gut punching
expert.  Her fists ripped into Shorty's fat belly.  He
shuddered from the impact of each titanic blow like a bolt of
electricity had gone through his body.  The red head was
turning her body to get the power of her big legs and her hips
into each devastating punch.  Shorty was flopping around like
a puppet with the strings cut.  Rusty was giving a belly
punching clinic, but the only attendee was her victim, Shorty. 
TTHHUUDD!!  ARRRGGGHH!!  WWHHOOMMPP!!  UUGGHHH!!! 
TTHHUUMMPP!!  OOOFFF!!!  Her big fists hammered her chosen
target again and again tearing up his gut.  Now her fists were
sinking all the way up past her wrists with each monumental
blow.  He began coughing up dark red blood.  Shorty started
gagging.  As pain and nausea radiated out from her plundering
fists to consume his entire body.  No human could continue to
absorb this kind of punishment for long.  Mucous and blood
were flying out of his nose and mouth with each savage smash. 
Rusty stepped back as suddenly a  big spray of vomit came out
of his mouth and Shorty fell to his knees and puked his guts
out.  It was a greenish blob tinged with red.  "I thought you
would pass out first.  Bad guess on my part."  Rusty said to
him.  It seemed like her voice was coming out of a faraway
tunnel as Shorty also had a roaring in his ears that matched
the roaring in his stomach.   When he finished puking he was
on his hands and knees and tried to crawl away from this
vicious woman.  She kicked his arms out from under him and he
fell face first into his own vomit.  Rusty reached down and
pulled him to his feet.  "Now where were we?  Oh, yes, I
remember now.  You were about to tell me who sent you to ask
questions about me, weren't you.  If you don't tell me we will
continue with our little gut punching demonstration."   Shorty
indicated he wanted to speak by waving his arms around but he
had no breath left in his battered body.  At last he was able
to croak "I-It was R-Ross Adams."  "Who is Ross Adams?" Rusty
asked sternly.  "Somers Oil"  Shorty managed to reply.  What
does he do at Somers Oil?"  Rusty asked again.  "Right now,
he's the union buster."  Shorty replied.  "I have a message
for you to deliver to Mr. Ross Adams when you wake up.  Don't
fuck with Rusty Walters!"  "W-When I w-w UUUUNNNNHHHHH!!!" 
Rusty had turned away from Shorty while she was speaking.  He
thought she was leaving.  Suddenly her body spun back toward
him and her right fist, that big, hard, projectile that had
destroyed Shorty's gut,  rocketed into his poor abused belly
one final time.  This was the hardest, most brutal punch that
she had delivered during the entire session.  TTTHHHUUUDDD!!! 
Both of Shorty's feet flew up in the air from the monstrous
punch. Rusty's right biceps was flexed into a mountainous ball
of iron as it pulled that destructive fist up into Shorty's
gut.   When he came back to the ground her collapsed in an
unconscious heap.  "I thought you would do this before you
puked.  My mistake."  Rusty said to the man who since he was
out cold, couldn't hear her.  "I really do love belly punching
fat slobs like you."  She said as she left without bothering
to look back at her unconscious victim.

Rusty found Juanita's directions easy to follow.  She
approached a neat, small Mexican style stucco house with a red
barrel tile roof.  The small yard was mowed and appeared to be
well cared for.   Rusty knocked on the door and Juanita
answered and invited her in.  There was a young man there as
well.  Juanita introduced him as Tim Michaelson, the union
representative who was there to help the workers organize. 
Tim was a nice looking young man close to Rusty's height and
probably weighed around one hundred seventy pounds.  He would
have been shocked to learn that Rusty outweighed him.  He had
a slim athletic looking build.  Rusty found out that Tim had a
nice smile as they shook hands.  As Juanita recounted to Tim
the events of the day,  he held on to Rusty's hand.  Upon
closer observation he could see the ridge of scar tissue
across her knuckles.  He thought that it added to her overall
attractiveness.  A certain amount of danger added to beauty
like hers, caused sexual stirrings like he had not felt since
arriving in Libertyville.  They sat down for dinner.  Juanita
had outdone herself.  The food was not nearly as spicy as
Rusty had expected, or had found in Mexican restaurants across
the country.  Juanita explained that true Mexican cooking did
not use nearly the amount of peppers and spices that the Tex-
Mex restaurants that the general public thought were authentic
Mexican eateries.  While the food was not as spicy as Rusty
had anticipated, it was delicious.  They were washing it down
with San Miguel beer.  "This is a much better beer than Corona
which the American yuppies have adopted." Juanita explained. 
The discussion turned to Somers Oil and the union.  Tim
briefly explained his mission which was to help the workers
get organized.  "Somers Oil essentially has slave labor now,
and wants to keep it that way.  Ross Adams and his headbusters
have tried to intimidate the work force.  They have by and
large been successful.  However, there are a few holdouts like
Juanita that they can't intimidate so they are resorting to
violence.  You interfered with their latest attempt today. 
From what Juanita tells me you were amazing.  I hear all three
of them are in the hospital and Aaron has a broken leg along
with his broken jaw.  Why don't you stick around and help us
out.  We sure could use someone like you who is not afraid of
Adams' thugs."   Rusty sat back and let out another long sigh. 
She really did not want to get mixed up in this situation. 
After her battles that had occurred on the other parts of her
trip she only wanted to relax and have some fun for the rest
of her vacation.   "I sympathize with you, and wish you a lot
of luck, but I need to get to California.  I will be leaving
in the morning.  I'm not sure what I could do to help you,
anyhow.  I don't work at Somers Oil and I truly don't like
unions.  I think what you are trying to do is admirable, but I
don't see how I can help you.  Juanita, I want to thank you
for a delicious dinner.  Tim, it was nice to meet you.  Since
I am leaving first thing in the morning, I had better be
getting back to the motel.  Rusty shook hands with Tim and
hugged Juanita.  "You be extra careful.  Those goons will be
back" Rusty said to Juanita as they hugged.  As she rode back
to the motel, Rusty couldn't get Juanita and her problems out
of her mind.  She became convinced the best course of action
for her was to get an early start in the morning and be on her
way.   She was still distracted when she opened the door to
her room.  As she reached for the light she was thinking "I
could have sworn I left a light on."  She heard a slight
rustling behind her. Then a sharp pain in her head and
everything went black. 

Rusty slowly came awake.  She realized that she was tied to a
chair in the middle of her own motel room.  There was a group
of men standing around her.  One of them stepped around in
front of her.  He was a large man, at least 6'3" tall and
looked to be in good shape.  He had handsome good looks with a
strong jaw and a hawklike nose.  Under other circumstances she
would have found him very attractive.  He spoke to Rusty. 
"What are you doing here?" he asked.  "I'm just passing
through." she replied.  The man slapped her sharply across the
face.  "Wrong answer.  Let me ask you again, Why are you
here?"  "I told you I was just passing through." she answered. 
This time the man slammed his fist into her face.  She saw
stars and the room was suddenly spinning around.  "Why then,
did you attack my men?" he asked in a hard voice.  "They were
about to beat up a defenseless woman.  What would you have
done in my place?  I stopped for gas and saw what was going
on.  I couldn't stand by and let them hurt her."
The man slapped her again.  "Why were you meeting with
Juanita and that scumbag union man?" he asked.  Rusty knew she
could be in big trouble.  "Who are you and why am I tied up
like this?" she asked him.  "I'm Ross Adams, and you're tied
up because we have seen first hand the damage you can do when
you are not. Now answer my question."  He smashed his fist
into her face again.  A trickle of blood started running down
from her lip.  "Juanita invited me for dinner for saving her
from your thugs.  The union guy was there when I got there.   
All I want to do is leave town.  I'm on my way to California."
Rusty told him.  The man took each of her breasts in his big
hands and squeezed.  "I believe you, honey.  Nice tits, by the
way.  The problem is, I can't let you get away with putting
three of my men in the hospital and Shorty may wind up there
too.  He's still spittin' up blood after what you did to him. 
So you are gonna have to pay for what you did."  Methodically
he began slapping her face with his right hand, forehand,
backhand, forehand, backhand.  Her head spun around with each
full strength slap.  Soon blood was running from both sides of
her mouth and his handprints could be seen on each cheek.  He
tired of that, and began using his fist, smashing it into her
jaw.  All at once her head slumped down and she was out.  He
lifted her out of the chair, keeping her hands tied behind her
back.  He unbuttoned and pulled down her jeans, then her
panties, exposing a patch of pubic hair that was as bright red
as the hair on her head.  "At least she's a nautral redhead."
he said, bringing a laugh from the other men in the room.  He
lifted her up and tossed her on the bed.  "God, she's heavy. 
She weighs a ton." he said.  "Of course she's heavy, look at
all those muscles!"  One of the men said.  Ross then dropped
his pants and mounted her.  As Ross Adams pumped away into the
unconscious woman she began to stir.  As Rusty woke up, she
realized what was happening and tried to struggle, but with
her hands and feet still tied she could not do much.  When
Adams had finished, he sat back and said "Okay men, whose
next.  Step right up boys, this is prime stuff.  All four of
the men took their turns with the others holding the
struggling woman down.  When they had all finished, Ross Adams
said to Rusty "If you're smart, you'll get on that motorcycle
and get out of Libertyville.  If we see you around here again,
you might not get out alive."  Adams nodded and the man
standing behind her smashed the blackjack down on her head
again and once more everything went black.  "Untie the bitch."
Adams ordered.  The men reluctantly cut the ropes binding
Rusty and they all filed out of her motel room.

Several minutes later, Rusty began to stir.  Her head was
throbbing and her face hurt.  She didn't even want to think
about her violated vagina.  She got up from the floor, and
immediately took two extra strength Tylenol which she had in
her bag.  The next thing she did was take a long hot bath as
if she could soak away the abuse she had taken from Ross Adams
and his gang.    After her bath she collapsed nude on the bed
and fell into a deep sleep.  The next morning she didn't wake
up until mid-morning.  She was starving.  Rusty got dressed,
and looked at her face in the mirror.  She usually used no
makeup at all or just minimally, but today she tried to cover
up the bumps and bruises as best she could.  She looked in the
mirror again.  There was nothing she could do about the
swelling on her cheeks, but she had done a credible job on the
bruises.  She went down to the motel dining room and ordered
breakfast.  After she had finished she remembered that Tim had
told her he had rented a storefront office near the Somers Oil
plant.  She got on her Harley and went in search of it.  First
she found Somers Oil, then Tim's office.  She noticed there
was only a secretary working there as she entered.  The
secretary, a middle aged woman with her hair up in a bun,
directed her to Tim who was in his office in the back of the
suite.  "I'm in" was all Rusty said to him.  "Why the change
of heart?" Tim asked.  "I now have a score to settle with Mr.
Ross Adams." was all she would say.   "How can I help?" she
asked.  "We need to pass out this union information to the
workers." Tim said.  "You could stand in front of the plant
and distribute it as they come in to work or leave after their
shift.  They run 24 hours a day with 3 shifts, so you could
get two shifts at once this afternoon. That is if you want to
do it.  Adams' goons have chased off everyone who had tried to
pass out the literature, so far."  "I'll do it." Rusty said. 
"I hope some of his boys that I met last night show up.  I
would like to meet them again."  Tim noticed the swelling
around her face for the first time.  "Did you have a run-in
with them?" he asked.  "Yes, but I was outnumbered.  I plan to
see each of them one on one and see how tough they really
are." Rusty answered.  She did not mention the rape, only the
visible beating she had received.    "Be sure to stay outside
the gate.  They will try to claim you can't be there because
it's private property.  Inside the gate belongs to Somers Oil. 
Outside the gate is public land.  Legally you have every right
to be there." Tim said.  "I'll be there at 3:00 o'clock." she
said picking up the literature packets. Rusty left the
makeshift office and headed for the Somers Oil facility. 

At a few minutes to three o'clock the incoming shift began
arriving at Somers Oil.  Rusty stood outside the gate and
began passing out the union literature to the arriving
workers.  Every one of them accepted the material with a
promise to read it.  On the top floor of the building where
the executive offices were, Ross Adams looked out the window
of his office and saw Rusty distributing the literature. 
"Damn it, there's that bimbo with the big tits.  She didn't
learn her lesson last night after all."  He picked up his
telephone and dialed a number.  When he got an answer, he said
"That redhead with the big boobs is outside the gate passing
out that union crap.  Get over there and get rid of her.  I'm
sure you would like another shot at her after last night,
wouldn't you?"  Receiving an affirmative answer, Adams said
"That's what I thought.  You can't kill her, but you can fuck
her again if you want to.  I don't care what you do, just get
her the hell away from the gate!" He roared into the
telephone.  Adams slammed the phone down.  He rose from his
chair and began pacing back and forth in front of the big
window, watching Rusty working the employees on behalf of the
union.  A car pulled up and two men got out.  The approached
Rusty from across the street.  She immediately recognized them
as two of the men from her motel room from the night before. 
As the got closer she continued to distribute the union
literature to the workers.  The one they had called Slim fit
his description.  He was tall and thin, or to be more
accurate, wiry, as stringy muscles could be seen dancing under
his skin.  The other one, Norm, was about average size with a
solid looking build.  "Hi, there Big Boobs.  How about another
roll in the hay?" Slim said.  "You're on private property,
lady.  You're trespassin'.  Move along now, before we have to
get rough." Norm said.  Rusty stared coolly at the two men. 
"I'm not on private property at all.  Anything outside the
gate is public land, and I have as much right to be here as
you do.  As for getting rough, anytime you want to start, go
ahead.  It might be a little different this time with my hands
and legs not tied."  "Come on, Red.  Pick up this crap you're
passin' out and get your big tits outta here!" Slim snarled. 
Rusty gave the two men a dazzling smile, turned and placed the
literature packets on the ground.  Next, she removed her
jacket and laid it on top of the literature packets.  "Why
don't you two big rough and tough guys try to move me or else
get back in your little car and get the hell out of here so I
can finish my work."  "Okay babe, you asked for it.  Maybe
we'll have to get another little piece of your ass when we're
through beating on you." Norm threatened.   "Come on, assholes
or are you planning to talk me to death?" Rusty replied.  The
two men separated and circled to each side.  With an almost
inpreceptible nod of his head Norm signaled Slim to start
their attack.  Both men leaped at Rusty.  At the very last
second she jumped forward out of the way and they collided,
bounced apart and fell to the pavement.    Rusty reached for
Norm, since he was the closest to her, and yanked to his feet.

"Did the big, strong man fall down and go boom?" Rusty said to
him.  She viciously drove her knee up into his groin, bringing
a loud groan from him.  Three more times her knee slammed up
into Norm's groin smashing his testicles.  "It's going to be a
long time before you try to stick that thing in a woman
again!" Rusty growled in his ear.  Norm was hanging limply in
Rusty's grasp moaning in pain.  Rusty heard a sound behind her
and turned still keeping her grip on Norm.  Slim had gotten to
his feet.  He pulled a switchblade knife out of his pocket and
it opened with a loud click.  "Hold on a minute Slim, I'm not
quite finished with your partner yet." Rusty smiled at him
again.  Slim kept circling and Rusty kept turning with him
never releasing her hold on Norm.  She curled her right fist
into a big, hard rock and shoved it under Norm's nose.  "Look
what I've got for you, Norm." she said in a conversational
tone.  Without warning she pulled it back and smashed it into
Norm's face.  There was a loud SNAP as Norm's nose broke under
her  rocky fist   "We have to start a new club for you boys. 
The broken nose club."  Rusty continued in her conversational
voice.  Blood was streaming down both sides of Norm's face
from his mashed nose.  He dangled limply from Rusty's left
hand.  "I have to go now, Norm, It seems that your friend Slim
wants to play." she said.  "Let's have one for the road." 
That same powerful fist exploded on his jaw causing a spray of
blood and teeth to come flying out of his mouth.  She released
her grip with her left hand and the bloody, unconscious man
fell to the pavement.   Slim advanced toward her waving the
knife in front of him.  "I'll cut your cunt out and feed it to
the hogs, you bitch!" Slim shouted.  A small crowd had
gathered.  They were all rooting for Rusty, they were sick of
Adams' thugs and the way the pushed everybody at the plant
around.  "You're going to join your buddies in the broken nose
club." Rusty informed him in the same voice she would use if
they were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.  That
seemed to infuriate Slim even more. 

He lunged at Rusty with the knife.  She managed to avoid his
knife thrusts  the first several times he slashed at her. 
While she was ducking, Rusty was looking for a pattern he
used.  She was not inexperienced in dealing with knife
attacks.   She had been involved in plenty in her days with a
motorcycle gang.  As Slim started his next attack Rusty moved
forward, inside the knife arm and grasped it with both hands. 
She dropped to her knees and flipped Slim over her head,
retaining her hold on his knife arm.  He hit the pavement with
a thump and lay there stunned for a moment.  Rusty stood up
and dropped both knees down on his arm.  It broke with a loud
crack as 172 pounds of muscle landed on his extended arm
driving  her knees downward.  Slim screamed in pain.  Rusty
removed the knife from his hand as the intense pain radiated
up his arm.  Next she wrenched the broken arm up behind his
back, bringing forth more screams.  Holding his broken arm
with one hand and his belt with the other Rusty jerked Slim to
his feet.  She stood behind him twisting the broken arm,
listening to the man's screams.  She leaned in and whispered
in his ear.  "It's time to initiate you into the club."  She
spun him around to face her.  This time she decided to use her
left fist. "Can't play favorites" she thought.  Slim's nose
exploded in a shower of blood as that massive block of granite
hard knuckles smashed into it.   He nearly forgot the pain in
his arm, his nose hurt so bad.  Her fist had squashed it flat. 
His entire face was covered in red as blood poured from his
smashed nose.  "Now you too are a member of the broken nose
club." She said.  Slim continued to scream in pain.  "I need
quiet to finish my work, so I guess I'll have to have you join
your buddy in la la land." she said.  She decided to stay with
her left hand.  Her left fist came around in a big roundhouse
swing that finished above her right shoulder.  Slim's jaw
happened to be in the way as her fist accelerated  to its
destination, so there was a loud, violent collision between
the fist and jaw.  CCRRAACCKKK!!!  Another splash of blood and
flying teeth was the result.  Rusty had released Slim as she
started the punch, so he sailed backward and landed on top of
Norm at a 90 degree angle, the two unconscious thugs formed a
cross.  "God, I really do love to fight." Rusty thought as she
looked at the bodies of her victims.  "That's at least partial
payback."  She picked up her jacket and literature and turned
back to the workers.  They gave her a big round of applause
and eagerly, this time, came forward to accept the information
she was distributing.  "Be careful," she warned.  "Please step
around the garbage."   Ross Adams was apoplectic up in his
office as he watched the events unfold below him down in front
of the entrance.  "Dammit, we're gonna have to do somethin'
about that broad.  She keeps gettin' in our way! Get down
there and haul those two dummies away!  See if they need to
see the doc."  Adams shook his head.  "I'm probably gonna have
to deal with this bitch myself." he mused.  "I'll bet she's a
great piece of ass when she wants to be.  Maybe I'll just have
to break her, 'til she begs me for it.  That would be a lot of
fun."  He resumed pacing and fuming as he watched the woman
distribute the union material to the workers.  He could see
the men he sent slowly approach the two unconscious men.  They
picked up Slim first because he was on top of Norm and carried
him to their truck.  Next they got Norm.  The woman who had
caused all the damage didn't even look at them as they hauled
away her victims.  After the last worker had left, Rusty
looked over the scene of her battle with Norm and Slim.  She
saw several teeth scattered over the landscape.  She stooped
over and picked them up.  "Maybe I'll start saving these." she
thought.  "I'll be like the old Texas gunslingers.  Instead of
putting notches on a gunhandle, I'll collect the teeth of the
bad guys and string'em together."  She must have had 10 teeth
between Norm and Slim when she finished gathering them.  She
reached in her saddle bags and pulled out a roll of fishing
line.  She cut off a piece about three feet long and tied a
knot in one end.  she strung the teeth on the line and tied
the open end around a small piece of wood.  She stuck her
grisly momento in her saddlebag, and rode off to Tim's office.

When she entered the office Tim looked up.  "I hear you had a
bit of trouble."  "Nothing I couldn't handle" Rusty answered. 
She elected not to show him her new souvenier collection.  He
wouldn't understand.  She really didn't understand what
motivated her to think of doing that, either.  "Maybe I'm a
little more warped than I thought." she thought as the image
of teeth on a string came to mind.  Rusty closed her eyes and
tried to imagine a string long enough to hold all of the teeth
she had knocked out in her brawling career.  "It would reach
all the way across this room." she thought.  Her eyes started
to glaze over with lust a she looked at Tim's slim young body. 
Fighting always made her horny as hell, plus she hadn't had a
good roll in the sack in several days.  Rusty also wanted to
wash away the memory of the five men who took her in hte motel
room.  She took off he jacket and draped over the back of her
chair.  She walked over to Tim's desk and sat down on it, with
her breasts almost sticking under his nose.  Tim was finding
it very hard to concentrate on his work.  He kept looking at
this beautiful woman with her chest stuck in his face.  Tim
looked up to see Rusty smiling down at him.  "Been laid
lately, Tim?" she asked in a throaty voice.  "Pardon me?" was
his response.  "I asked had you been laid lately, you know,
had any good pussy?" Rusty said.  Tim stammered for a few
seconds.  "I guess that means no." Rusty answered for him. 
"Would you like to?" was her next question.  Tim almost fell
off his chair.  "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"
Tim inquired.  "Let this be your answer." Rusty said and
leaned over the desk and planted a long kiss on his lips.  It
ran through Tim like an electric shock.  Rusty got up and
locked the door.  "We don't want to be disturbed, do we?' she
said.  Next she took the phone off the hook and began taking
off her clothes.  As she removed her bra Tim gasped as he saw
her magnificent breasts swinging free, sticking straight out
from her muscled chest with absolutely no sag to them.  Tim
was still sitting in his desk chair, and Rusty was sitting on
his desk facing him.  When she had finished disrobing and sat
naked in front of him, she took his breath away.  'I-I've n-
never seen anything like you before." Tim managed to stammer. 
Rusty struck a double biceps pose, the huge cannonballs on her
arms rising up.  "Do these muscles turn you off or on?" she
asked.  Then glancing down at his crotch, she could see and
erection about to rip through his jeans.  "Mr. Happy looks
like he's turned on." Rusty continued.  She placed her legs
over his shoulders, and slid her steaming pussy up close to
his face.  Tim understood what was expected of him, and put
his mouth to work.  He thrust his tongue deep inside her
quivering snatch.  He sucked and licked the clit.  he could
feel the pillars of muscle in her legs tighten around his head
as her orgasm neared.  With a shout, Rusty exploded in a long
climax.  Tim kept licking and sucking right through it, even
as her juices flooded his face.   When it was over, Rusty did
not say a word.  She reached down and unbuckled his belt, then
ripped his jeans down.  His erect penis sprang free.  Like a
contortionist, Rusty impaled herself on him, with he legs
extending over the back of the desk chair.  Using her powerful
arms on the arms of the chair, she began to pump up and down. 
Tim quickly caught on to the rhythm and moved with her. 
Faster and faster Rusty moved, the big muscles in her arms
flexing as she pumped harder and harder on the chair arm.   At
this pace neither of the could last long and they did not. 
They both erupted in long, intense orgasms.  Rusty got up and
started looking for her clothes without saying a word.  "That
was nice." she finally said.  "Nice! Nice! is that all you can
say is that it was nice, If I was physically capable, I would
spank your cute butt for that.  Nice for you happens to be the
best I've ever had.  I wonder what it would take to get you to
say good or even great." Tim mumbled.   "Let's just say we
both enjoyed it a lot, and let it go at that." Rusty smiled at
him.   She got dressed, put his phone back on the hook, and
unlocked the door.   She started to leave then turned back,
"Should I plan to pass out the literature tomorrow at Somers
Oil?' she asked.  "Yes" Tim answered.  "We cant't let them
think that they have run you off, now can we?"  "I guess not"
Rusty said as she left.

Rusty decided to ride by and see Juanita on her way back to
the motel.  As she turned down the street she smelled smoke. 
She cranked the Harley up to full speed with a bad feeling in
the pit of her stomach.  Juanita's house was on fire.  Rusty
kicked in the door and found Juanita sprawled unconscious on
the living room floor.  Rusty scooped her up in her strong
arms and raced out the door out into the yard.  She shouted at
one of the neighbors to call the fire department.  The man
waved, nodded and went inside.  Rusty found that Juanita had
not been overcome by the smoke, she had a big lump behind her
left ear.  "The same bastard with the blackjack!" she thought. 
Juanita began to come around.  When she opened her eyes they
were wide with fear until she saw Rusty.  "Shhh, take it easy,
you're okay." Rusty told her.  "The fire department is on its
way.  What the hell happened."  Juanita was still groggy and
was trying to clear her head.   "Ross Adams and his men.  They
beat me, then set my house on fire.  The last thing I remember
was Adams laughing and then they must have hit me on the head. 
I woke up here with you."  "They meant for you to die in that
fire." Rusty said.   "Did you recognize them ?  Could you
testify in court that it was Adams and his thugs?"  Juanita
replied.  "They meant to kill me.  That's why they didn't wear
masks like they usually do when they do their dirty work. 
They thought I wouldn't be around to identify them."  The fire
trucks came screaming up to the house.  The local fire
department had always been very efficient and quickly subdued
the fire.  "I'm going to pay Mr. Adams and his friends a
little vist." Rusty said.  "You wait here, the paramedics will
check you out." she instructed Juanita.  Rusty found Juanita's
cell phone in her purse.  She called Tim and told him the
situation.  "Wait 45 minutes then call the cops and have them
pick up Adams and his goons." Rusty told him.  "Why wait 45
minutes?" Tim asked.  "Because I'm going to pay them a little
visit first and I want some time alone with them." she
answered.  Rusty broke the connection before Tim could say
anything else.   She mounted her Harley and roared off to the
Somers Oil location. 

Rusty slowly approached the Somers Oil complex.  She could see
lights on the top floor where the offices were.   She parked
the Harley, and looked at the fence.  It was twelve feet high
with barbed wire around the top. First Rusty removed her
jacket, the huge muscles under her white skin gleaming in the
moonlight.  Next,  Rusty took a length of rope from her
saddlebag and looped it over one of the fenceposts.  She
scaled to the top of the fence and jumped over, taking care to
make sure the rope fell down the inside of the fence in case
she needed to make a fast getaway.  The doors were unlocked,
so she quietly entered the building.  She had learned the
names of the two other men who were with Ross Adams on the
night of their attack on her.  They were Sid and Quint, with
Quint being the guy with the blackjack who knocked her out
twice.  Rusty decided not to risk taking the elevator to the
top floor, so she had twelve flights of stairs to climb. 
Rusty was happy she was in shape as she made her way up the
stairs to the top floor.  She cracked the door slightly and
looked up and down the hallway, but no one was in sight.  She
stepped out of the stairwell into the hallway.  She could see
lights coming from an office about halfway down towards the
end on her left.  Quietly she crept down the hall to the
office.  She could hear Ross Adams' voice clearly.  He was
addressing the other two men.  "With that Juanita bitch out of
the way, this union talk should die off.  She was the real
leader here in trying to establish the union.  We'll have a
little ceremony for her, a little recognition as an
outstanding employee, then bury her spic ass and get things
back to normal."  Rusty had sneaked into the outer office
while this was going on.  She stepped through the door and
said, "There's only one thing wrong with that logic.  Juanita
is not dead.  She got out of the fire, okay.  You boys are in
a heap of trouble. The cops will be here any minute to haul
your bodies away."  "What do you mean haul our bodies away?"
Ross demanded.  "By the time they get here you'll all be
unconsicious or worse, because I have a little score to settle
with all of you from last night." Rusty said.  "Get her,
boys." Adams shouted.  "We can't let this bitch walk in here
and threaten us on our own property.  The cops might like to
know about that too, don't you think?"  Sid and Quint moved
toward her, with Quint pulling his blackjack out of his
pocket.   Rusty had used up all of her two on one moves, so
she decided to take out Sid first, which would leave her more
time to deal with the more dangerous Quint.  She leaped in the
air at Sid, her boots colliding with his chest.  Sid was
driven back into the wall.  Rusty landed on her butt and back,
but sprang quickly back to her feet.  Her steel-toed boot
smashed into Sid's left kneecap. It broke with a loud crack.   
He moaned loudly and started to slide to the floor.  Rusty
caught him and smashed her fist into his nose, breaking it and
splashing blood all over his shirt.  Quint had stood frozen
through all of this it had happened so quickly.  One more
brutal smash to Sid's jaw probably breaking it, knocked him
out, shattering teeth which came spilling out of his mouth. 

Rusty wheeled to face Quint with the unconscious Sid still
clutched in her left hand.  With an amazing show of strength
she lifted him with her left arm and flung him against the
wall.    "Come on, Mr. Blackjack, it's time for your
initiation into the club."  Quint was still amazed at the
speed with which she had so easily dispatched Sid.   "What the
hell club are you talkin' about?" he growled.  "The broken
nose club, of course.  All of your buddies are members, except
for Shorty, and if he shows up, he'll be initiated too." 
"Shorty's in the hospital.  You busted somethin' inside him
when you beat him up with those hamhock fists."  Quint said. 
"Too bad, I'd really like to make all of you club members. 
Maybe I'll have to visit him in the hospital." she grinned at
Quint.  Quint swung the blackjack at her head, but Rusty
quickly ducked out of the way.  Quint recovered and swung
again.  This time he hit her on the shoulder with it and her
left shoulder immediately went numb.    Rusty backed away from
him waiting for the feeling to return to her shoulder and arm. 
She was holding her left arm down at her side.  Quint
continued to swing at her with the blackjack, but Rusty was
able to avoid being hit again.  She could feel her left
shoulder and arm begin to tingle, a sign that the feeling was
returning.  She didn't want Quint to know that, so she kept
holding her arm down like it was hurt.  After ducking a few
more passes at her head with the blackjack, Rusty could tell
that full feeling had returned to her shoulder and arm. 
Quint, thinking her left arm was useless had been ignoring it. 
Now as he stepped that way to swing his blackjack again, Rusty
snapped her hard left fist straight into his nose.  Quint did
not expect it and was driven backwards.  Again, Rusty smashed
his nose with her left, this time eliciting a loud pop as the
cartilage broke.  "Welcome to the club." she said to him. 
Blood was pouring out of his broken nose, and the pain caused
his eyes to tear up, blurring his vision.  Rusty stepped
around and drove a full power right into his jaw.  Quint spun
around and fell to the floor.  Rusty picked him up and
unloaded a monster punch with her right fist straight into his
open mouth.  She was trying to punch her fist through the back
of his head by way of his mouth.She could feel the teeth
buckling and cracking under her hard knuckles as her fist
slammed home.  No human teeth could stand up to such a
vicious, powerful blow.   Quint sagged in her strong left
hand.  Rusty looked at Ross Adams then deliberately drove
another jaw breaker of a punch at Quint with her lethal right
fist.  KKKRRRAAACCC!!!  The jaw did break and most of Quint's
remaining  teeth came sailing out.  She casually flung Quint's
body away from her, and looked at Ross Adams.

"Well, it looks like it's just you and me, Mr. Rapist &
Attempted Murderer Union Buster." Rusty said.  "I knew all
along I would have to do this myself." Adams said, as he got
up from his chair behind his desk.   "I'll admit you're pretty
good.  These two make eight of my men you have busted up. 
After I beat the shit out of you, I'm gonna take you over to
that sofa over there and fuck you 'til you can't walk.  In
fact I'm gonna beat you 'til you beg me to fuck you!" Ross
Adams said to Rusty.  he was removing his jacket, shirt and
tie as he spoke.  "You've got it all wrong, Mr. Rapist.  The
way it's going to be is that I'm going to beat you 'til you
beg me to let you kiss my ass before I knock you out.  I'm
going to reinvent pain for you.  You have never hurt in your
wasted life the way you're going to hurt when I get through
with you." Rusty said.  Ross Adams presented a menacing
figure.  Six foot three, with wide shoulders and a flat hard
looking belly, and well muscled arms and shoulders, he would
certainly be the biggest challenge of all of the men Rusty had
taken on before.   "I'm gonna be a lot tougher that those two
creampuffs over there you took out so easy."   Adams waved his
arms at the unconsicous twosome of Sid and Quint.  "You have a
lot of things to answer for." Rusty said in a very quiet
voice. 

The two antagonists began circling each other in the office. 
No more talking, the time had come for action.  Ross began
flicking out his left in a jab, trying to take advantage of
his height and reach.  It kept stinging Rusty's face.  The
area around her right eye was turning red.  Still Adams kept
sticking his left fist in her face.  He suddenly ripped his
right fist into her hard belly, eliciting a grunt from Rusty,
but his fist did not penetrate, it just bounced off the
washboard stomach.  Ross followed up with a whistling left
hook that landed smack on Rusty's jaw and deposited her on her
butt.  The room was spinning around a little bit for her.  As
Rusty got to her feet, Adams landed a hard right to her other
jaw, and down she went again.  This time Adams tried to stomp
her.  Rusty managed to roll behind his desk to get away. 
Slowly she climbed to her feet.  Her right eye was swollen and
turning black and she had a welt on her jaw.  Adams approached
her and swung a big right.  Rusty ducked under it.  He
followed with an equally hard left, but Rusty blocked it, and
countered with her first punch of the fight a brain scrambling
left hook that exploded on Ross Adams' jaw.  Rusty followed
with a vicious right uppercut to his belly.  She felt her fist
bounce off the solid muscles there.  Then a left uppercut to
the same place.  This time Rusty could feel a little give in
his midsection.  His head came down and forward from the two
belly blows and she unleashed a muscle driven uppercut that
crashed into Ross' chin.  It seemed to stretch his neck back
several inches as he went up on his toes, then toppled over on
his back.  Rusty was still too groggy to follow up on her
advantage.  Now both fighters had been hurt. 

Ross dragged himself to his feet.  He went back to his jabs at
Rusty's face.  She concentrated on blasting his belly at every
chance she got.  She could feel the rock hard abdominal
muscles begin to give a little more each time she rammed her
big fist into them.  Adams' face was still unmarked.  Rusty's
right eye was closing fast as he kept sticking the jabs into
it.   Again he tried the power left hook, but at the last
second Rusty mangaged to flick her head out of the way and his
fist sailed harmlessly over her head.  Rusty brought a brutal
right up from the floor and buried it in his belly.  This time
his abdominal muscles failed to hold and split apart with a
loud crack and her fist penetrated deep in his belly for the
first time.  Ross Adams felt as though he had been impaled on
a telephone pole.  Pain rocked through his body as Rusty now
drove another powerhouse right into his belly.  This  time her
hard fist met no resistance at all as it blasted far into his
body.   AAWWKK!! squeaked out of Adams' mouth as her fist
drove all his wind out.  His knees started to fold up when
Rusty drove in one more savage gut punch that lifted him in
the air and dropped him groveling on his hands and knees. 
Mucous and blood were dribbling out of his mouth.  "It's time
for your club initiation." Rusty said to him.  She took his
hair in her left hand and lifted up his head.  Ross was
pleading with his eyes when he saw that big, hard hammer she
intended to break his nose with drawing back.  WWHHAAMM!! it
smashed his nose into fragments of tissue as huge amounts of
blood spurted from the destroyed appendage.   WWHHAAMM!! Just
to make sure, Rusty unloaded on his nose again.  More blood
poured out.  Ross Adams' nose was forever changed to a smashed
, flattened lump of bloody tissue, that it would take a team
of plastic surgeons to rebuild.  The hint of a smile played
across Rusty's face as she looked down at the beaten man. 
"Now your punishment starts! You have a lot to answer for,
rape and attempted murder for starters." Rusty whispered to
him.  She jerked Adams to his feet using his hair.  She
thundered her fists into his now unresisting stomach, each
punch harder than the one before.  His once hard abdominal
muscles were caved in under the barrage of concrete fists that
the redhead unleashed on his stomach.  One of Rusty's favorite
punishments for bad little boys like Ross Adams was gut
punching.  As she had with Shorty she was putting on a clinic
in gut punching, but Ross Adams didn't seem to be enjoying it
at all.  He gagged an gurgled as the big hard fists of the
woman buried deeper and deeper into his now pliant flesh.  The
pain and nausea got worse with each vicious blow.  Still Rusty
kept pounding his belly.  Adams was now spitting up blood.  He
would have begged her to stop if he had any breath left in his
body with which to speak.  Adams heard her voice and realized
she had been counting.  "23, 24, 25!" she said as her massive
fist pumped back and forth with a rhythm of its own.  As she
reached 25, Rusty released him and Adams fell to the floor and
curled into a ball, clutching his battered gut.  Rusty could
see it spasming and convulsing from the trauma she had
inflicted on it and it sent a shiver down her spine and caused
her pussy to get wet.  Rusty unbuttoned her jeans and let them
drop.  She slid her panties down.  "I told you you would kiss
my ass before we were through," she said.  "If you want me to
stop, kiss it.  If you want to continue, refuse to do what
you're told!".   

Adams raised his head and put his lips on her ass cheeks.  He
kissed each one.  "The poop chute too." Rusty commanded. 
Adams had no choice but to comply if he wanted the torture to
end.  He placed his lips directly on the opening and kissed. 
"Lick it!" she ordered.  His tongue snaked inside her rectum
as he licked away.  Fear done strange things to people.  In
his wildest dreams Ross Adams never envisioned that he would
be kissing a woman's ass to keep her from beating him anymore. 
Rusty could feel the orgasm building in her sopping wet snatch
as  Adams tongued her ass.  When it hit her entire body went
stiff as a board, and she screamed.  Then Ross Adams made a
mistake.  He thought that while she was distracted with her
climax that he could get away.  Out of the corner of her eye
Rusty spotted him crawling toward the door, then getting
unsteadily to his feet and trying to run.  It was more of a
stumble, actually laughable to her.  She pulled up her panties
and jeans and caught him in the hallway before he got to the
elevator.  "You don't get off that easily." she told him. 
"You were trying to run out on me when we had a lot more
points to discuss." Rusty said.  "You have to learn that rape
and attempted murder call for a lot more punishment that you
have gotten so far."  Adams started to plead with the powerful
redhead not to hurt him anymore, but his pleas fell on deaf
ears.  Rusty was determined to extract revenge for herself and
Juanita from this man.  The redhead was quite a sight standing
there with his blood splattered all over her, and one eye
swelling shut very rapidly.  Adams lunged at her swinging his
fist at her bad eye.  Rusty saw him coming and blocked it. 
Her left fist ripped up in a violent uppercut to his battered
belly.

All ability to resist left his body as her punishing fist
sank into it.  Rusty followed with an even more vicious
uppercut with her right fist to his belly and Adams was done. 
He folded up in slow motion to the floor.  Rusty dragged him
back inside the office.  She pulled him to his feet and sat
him down on his desktop, facing her.  She grasped his shirt
with her left hand and showed him her big right fist.  "Now
it's time to continue your punishment" she said.  Fear
clutched his heart as he looked at that big, hard missile and
he lost control.  He peed in his pants.  Rusty, of course,
immediately noticed it and knew how afraid he was.  His broken
nose was still leaking blood, and internal blood was dribbling
from his mouth from the belly beating he had taken   
WWHHAAMM!!, WWHHAAMM!! Rusty slammed two quick punches, one to
each eye.  Adams would now have two lovely shiners to go with
his broken nose.  "Open your mouth!" she ordered him.  Adams
just glared at her.  Rusty smashed her fist into his broken
nose.  Agonizing pain shot through his face.  "I said open
your mouth!" she growled.  Adams resignedly opened his mouth. 
Rusty cocked her fist and released a titanic punch right into
the recently opened mouth, breaking and knocking out teeth. 
Three more times she hammered that battering ram fist into his
mouth.  She talked to him with each punch SSMMAASSSHH!! "This
is for raping me!"  WWHHAAMM!! "This is for trying to kill
Juanita!"  BBLLAAMM!! "This is for being an asshole!" Adams
was spitting out teeth like popcorn.  When she saw this,
Rusty's desire for revenge was sated, but her pussy got
soaking wet.  She lifted him off the desk, still holding him
in her left hand.  "And this is just because I want to!" 
CCCRRRAAACCCKK!! One final,  monstrous, brutal punch broke his
jaw and sent more teeth flying.  Rusty dropped the unconscious
man to the floor.  Ross Adams was no longer a handsome man. 
His face was a broken battered wreck that could never be
handsome again.   Looking around the room, she began gathering
up the teeth of the vanquished thugs, Quint and Sid.  Pretty
soon she had a handful, and stuffed them in her pocket.   She
turned to where she had just smashed Ross Adams into a bloody
pulp.  Soon she had another handful, just from Adams alone
stuffing them in her other pocket.  She heard the arrival of
the police.  The first officer through the door, saw just a
flash as Rusty disappeared down the stairwell.  He turned his
attention back to the men he had come to arrest for the
attempt on Juanita.  When he saw them he said to his partner,
"God what a slaughterhouse.  These guys look like they've been
run through a meatgrinder.  Call the medics and an ambulance."
Although all three had been severely beaten, Ross Adams was
definitely in the worst shape, with two black eyes, busted
nose, broken jaw, and probable internal injuries.  Twenty one
of his teeth were knocked out or broken off.  "What the hell
happened to these guys.  It looks like they lost World War
III" the paramedics said as they hauled them out of the
building on gurneys. 

Rusty managed to slip unnoticed back to her bike and quietly
ride away.  She headed back to her motel.  She called Tim and
asked him to come over.  When he arrived he found her room and
knocked on the door.  When it opened, Rusty was standing
there, nude.  Tim had a great deal of difficulty remembering
the next two hours.  Rusty was sitting on his face, Rusty was
taking him inside her, he was kissing and worshipping her
muscles.  Finally Tim dropped into a deep sleep.
Rusty got dressed and quietly left the room leaving Tim there
sleeping.  She left and went in search of the hospital.  In
most small towns the hospitals are no more than clinics with
beds.
It was no trouble finding the hospital.  In a town like
Libertyville, everyone knew where it was.  When she found the
hospital it was not a large one only 50 beds, all on one
floor.  Rusty reached in her saddlebags and removed a small
package.  She entered the hospital and asked for two rooms,
Juanita Lopez and the man known as Shorty.  She went to see
Juanita first.  The two women hugged, and Rusty explained what
had happened to Ross Adams and the remainder of his crew.  She
told Juanita that the police had arrived and arrested what was
left of Adams, Sid and Quint.  Juanita knew she would have to
testify against them, but stated she was looking forward to
it.  "It will be a long time before their trial." Rusty told
her.  "Why?" Juanita asked.  "They had to be taken to Houston
to the University Hospital" Rusty answered.  "They were too
beat up and had suffered too much damage to be treated here. 
They'll be out of comission for a long, long time." Rusty
said.  She pulled out the fishing line with all of the teeth
strung on it and showed it to Juanita.  With the addition of
the teeth from Quint, Sid, and especially Ross Adams the
entire length of the string was covered with teeth.  Rusty
explained what she had done which brought a huge grin to
Juanita's face.  "I wish I could have seen that.  Particularly
Ross Adams." she said.  They then discussed the union
situation, and Rusty left.  She found a restroom, went into
the toilet stall and latched the door.  She reached into the
bag she had brought in and retrieved her nurses uniform that
she had used in other places before. 

After she had changed, Rusty found Shorty's room.  He was in
the bed watching television when she arrived.  Seeing the
nurses uniform out of the corner of his eye, Shorty started to
make a wise ass comment when he recognized Rusty.  "Hi,
Shorty, how's your fat belly feeling?" Rusty asked.  "What are
you doing here?" he asked.  "I came to initiate you into the
club." she said.  "Every one of your buddies are members, so
you are the only one who is not, so I am here to remedy that
now." Rusty smiled at him.  "What the hell kind of club are
you talking about?" Shorty asked.  "Why, the broken nose club,
of course." she answered.  "We can do this a couple of ways."
Rusty explained.  "You can take your medicine like a big boy,
or I can pound on your gut some more first.  Which way do you
want it to be?"  "Please don't hit my belly again.  You tore
something up the last time.  Just don't hurt me anymore." 
"Okay, then.  You want to do this the easy way."  Rusty placed
her hands under his armpits and sat Shorty up in the bed. 
"You can make up any story you want to about what happened,
but if you mention me to anybody, I'll come back and beat you
even worse that I did at the motel!" she said.  She took a
small pan that was on the sink and placed it in Shorty's lap. 
"Hold this." she said.  "What's it for?" he asked.  "The
blood, of course, silly." Rusty told him.  "I have to do this
just right, I don't want to get your blood on my uniform." she
said.  "Close your eyes." she ordered Shorty.  He quickly
complied.  He was deathly afraid of this big  redhead. 
Looking at Shorty propped up in the bed with his eyes closed
made Rusty start to get wet again.  She moved to the left side
of the bed so that her right side was closest to Shorty. 
"Keep your eyes closed!" she growled.  Rusty cocked her right
fist back and rocketed it into Shorty's nose,  It broke with a
loud crack and the blood poured out, running down into the pan
that Rusty had placed in his lap.  "Now all of you have broken
noses.  You're lucky that I have my tooth string filled up, so
you get to keep yours."  Even through the pain, Shorty heard
her and wondered what the hell she was talking about.  Rusty
pulled out the string of teeth from her pocket and explained
to Shorty where the teeth came from.  He was just as glad not
to become a contributor, because he knew if this woman wanted
to knock out his teeth she could and no one could stop her. 
The pain in his nose was extreme.  "Wait 5 minutes after I'm
gone to ring for the nurse." Rusty instructed.  If you ring
before that, I'll have to come back and you don't want that, I
know."  Rusty eased out of the room.  She found the same
restroom and changed back into her street clothes.  She rode
back to the motel where she found Tim still sleeping.  She
climbed into the bed and was soon fast asleep.  Shorty kept
one eye on the clock as he tried to stem the flow of blood
from his nose.  As the 5 minute mark passed, he grabbed the
buzzer and summoned the nurse.  He still had no idea what he
was going to tell them but he knew he would not mention Rusty. 
He wasn't sure he could live through another visit from her.

After a quick nap, Rusty awoke.  She quietly dressed and
slipped out the door.  She paid her bill and left.  She
stopped for breakfast at a diner on her way out of town.  She
picked up a paper to read while she ate.  The headlines made a
smile come to her face.  "Local oil executive arrested.  Ross
Adams of Somers Oil was arrested for attempted murder last
night.  Mr. Adams is accused of ordering the murder of Juanita
Lopez, a local union activist.  Mr. Adams and his two
associates are currently not in jail, however.  Someone beat
the police to him.  He had been severely beaten as had Sid
Lane and Quint Mason, the two men with him.  All three
suffered broken noses and jaws and had multiple teeth missing. 
All three have been transfered to Houston for surgical
treatment of their injuries.  The police saw a red haired
woman running down the stairs at the Somers Oil Building. 
They would like to interview her regarding the activities at
that building. If anyone can help with the identification of
this woman, please contact the Libertyville Police."

Rusty smiled, reached in her jacket pocket and ran her fingers
over the string of teeth from her victims.  She got on her
Harley and headed west out of town. 

[Chainer★]

The Road Trip Part 5
By Arby


The motorcycle cruised through West Los Angeles.  The rider
knew that the wrong exit had been taken immediately. 
Suddenly 3 young men appeared on the corner, wearing red,
gang colors, the rider observed.   They were watching the
motorcycle.  When it stopped at a traffic signal right in
front of them one of the young men produced a pistol from
his pocket and opened fire at the rider shouting "Don't
come into our territory showin' your fuckin' colors like
that."  The rider was dressed in all blue denim, which is
what offended the men wearing the red bandannas around
their heads.   The rider roared off, running the light and
put the big Harley Davidson motorcycle into a controlled
slide on the other side of the light.  The three men came
running over.  The rider was sprawled out beside the big
bike.  The first thing the men wanted to do was see their
victim to see who in their rival gang would dare ride into
their neighborhood like that.  They pulled off the helmet
from the rider.  "Who the hell do you think woah!"  The
gangster who had pulled off the helmet was suddenly silent. 
He was looking into a pair of bright blue eyes topped by
flame red hair.  "Damn, it's a woman!" he exclaimed to his
comrades.   The woman spoke as she got to her feet.  "And a
pissed off woman at that," she said.  She was tall, taller
than any of the three men.  She was around 5'10" and the
gang members were all around 5'8"or 5'9".  With her
motorcycle boots on, she towered over them.  "Which one of
you assholes shot at me?" she asked in a calm, low voice. 
"Why you askin'?" was the reply.  "Because I'm going to
kick his ass" she said calmly again.  "Hey guys," one of
them said, "We got a feisty one here.  What do you say, we
take her over in the alley and  bang her!".   He pointed
the gun at the woman and said,  "Move your ass, bitch!" 
The woman cooly walked in to the alley that he indicated
with a wave of the pistol. 
"We'll teach you to come into Blood territory wearin' Crip
colors!"  They were now in the alley.  "The only blood
around here is going to be yours all over this alley." The
woman said.  The first one dropped his pants and moved
toward her.  He lewdly pointed his penis at her and said
"Get ready for the fuckin' of your life, bitch!"  The man
with the pistol was standing off to the side.  The woman
suddenly drove her foot with its steel toed motorcycle boot
straight into the first man's hard on.  He dropped like he
had been shot, holding his smashed testicles and making
little whimpering sounds.  She spun toward the man with the
gun and her other foot shot out and hit his hand holding
the gun.  It impacted with a loud crack, and the gun went
flying across the alley.  He grabbed his wrist and dropped
down on his knees.  The redhead then turned to the third
man with an evil smile on her face.  "It's either fight or
run, hot shot." she said to him.  With a strangled roar, he
leaped at her.  Instead of getting out of the way, the red
haired woman stepped forward to meet him.  He did not
expect that,  nor did he expect what she did next.   She
brought her right fist up in a vicious uppercut that buried
her big right fist in the man's belly.  She was moving
toward him at the time so she got her entire body behind
the punch.  The man reacted like he had been shot in the
belly instead of punched.  His feet lifted off the ground,
and when then landed they would not support him.  He
collapsed in a heap in front of her, and puked.  When he
finished, he rolled around on the pavement holding his
belly, and moaning softly, then passed out .   The redhead
then turned her attention to the gun weilder.  "Okay,
sweetheart, it's your turn now." she said.  She pulled him
to his feet, and holding him up with her left hand smashed
her right fist deep into his belly.  He couldn't fall
because she retained her grip on his shirt.  He just
dangled there in her hand.  She then proceeded to
administer a very cruel beating to his belly,  hammering
her big, hard right fist over and over again in to his
stomach.   TTHHUUMMPP!!  AAHHGG!!  WWHHUUDD!!  OOAAHH!! 
WWHHOOMMPP!! UUNNGGHH!!  WWHHUUMMPP!!  OOOOFFF!!! 
TTHHUUNNKK!!!  AAARRRGGG!!!  Her big fist kept pumping
hard, driving powerful,
savage punches that were sinking deeper and deeper into his
softened up gut with each succeeding punch.  He was
gagging, and struggling to breathe as his diaphrgam was
paralyzed from the severe pounding.   She held his limp
body dangling there for a few seconds and said "One more,
punk!" Then she unloaded the hardest and most vicious punch
that she was capable of throwing.  TTTHHHUUUDDD!!!   
UUUNNNGGGHHH!!! The man's belly muscles went into spasms as
she dropped his inert body to the pavement.  He was trying
to vomit, but he couldn't.   Blood was leaking out of his
mouth, she had surely ripped up something deep inside him
with her relentless pounding.  "Shoot at me, will you
asshole!" the redhead growled at him.  She walked over to
the first man she had kicked.  He was still on the ground,
whimpering, holding his balls.  She grasped his hair and
turned his face up toward her.  "Goodnight, sweetheart!"
she said.  She drove her rocklike fist against his jaw as
hard as she could.  She could hear the splintering sound as
it broke.  His whimpering stopped because he was now
unconscious.  Blood was pouring out of his mouth where his
teeth had come out of his shattered jaw.  Lastly the woman
stepped over to the first man she had belly punched with
that monstrous uppercut.  He was still on the pavement, but
he had revived somewhat and he was groaning and holding his
belly.  "Your turn now, babycakes." she said softly to him. 
The man looked up, having difficulty focusing.  What he saw
was looked like a big coconut sailing at his face.  Then
there was an explosion of pain, a flashing of multicolored
lights, then everything went dark.  The woman had given him
the same treatment she had given to the previous gangster. 
She had smashed his face with her iron fist, breaking his
jaw and knocking him out in the process.  She looked at the
three gang bangers with a look of satisfaction on her face. 
The gunman was also unconscious, having passed out from the
cruel belly beating he had endured. She had been right in
her prediction, their blood was all over the alley.  The
two with the broken jaws had it pooling in front of them,
running out of their busted faces,  and blood was still
leaking from the mouth of the gunman as a result of his gut
punching session.  "Next time you won't want to fuck with
Rusty Walters" the redhead said. "Shit" she said, as she
felt the wetness between her legs.  "This always happens"
she continued.  "I always get turned on by beating up some
asshole!"  She stopped briefly in front of the two with the
broken jaws, and reached down, picking up a few of the
teeth that had been knocked out from each of them,  "For my
collection," she said to each of the men although they were
not able to hear her.  Rusty had started this bizzare
collection of teeth that she had knocked out back at her
last stop in Texas.  She had strung the teeth on fishing
line making it look like some strange necklace, but it was
already so long it was more like a belt.  Rusty added the
teeth from these latest victims to the string, and prepared
to leave.  She got her big Harley upright, mounted up and
slowly rode off without looking back. "Hell of an
introduction to L.A." she thought as she carefully made her
way back to the freeway. 

Rusty had decided to do it up right during her stay in Los
Angles and had made reservations at the Beverly Hills
Hotel.  She had reserved one of their famous bungalows for
her stay there.  Money was no object.  She had inherited a
lot of money from her wealty parents who had been killed in
a plane crash when she was a little girl, and she made a
lot of money in her present job as enforcer and collector
for Vince Castellano, the biggest Mafia loan shark in New
York.  So she could easily afford the five hundred dollars
per day the bungalow cost.  The bellhop was surprised when
her luggage consisted only of her saddlebags from the
Harley, and one large duffle bag she had strapped on the
back.  Rusty allowed the young bellman to carry them for
her and gave him a generous tip.  When she was alone at
last in the bungalow she took a quick tour of the premisis. 
It was more like a small house, with every amenity that
could have been thought of for the comfort of the guests. 
A fully equipped kitchen was stocked with food,  There was
a completely stocked bar with liquor, beer, and an above
average selection of Califronia wines.  It was not like the
mini-bars in hotel rooms, this was included in the price of
the bungalow.  Even a hot tub on the small, secluded patio.   
Rusty opened a beer, and undressed.  She looked at herself
in the full length mirror.  Tall, at 5' 10" and she weighed
in at 172 pounds.  Her breasts were large, round and firm. 
Large melon shaped caps of muscle topped her shoulders, her
wide back rippled with muscle.  She grinned at her
refelction and flexed.  her biceps would stretch the tape
past nineteen inches now, and her flat, hard stomach was a
hard, defined six pack.   Her legs were so big at twenty
nine inches that she had to have the jeans that she wore
most of the time custom made to fit her big legs and small
waist.  Rusty picked up her beer and strolled out to the
hot tub.  She climbed in and let out a big sigh.  She
realized that she had had a tough day, getting in to Los
Angeles, making the wrong turn, fighting with the gang
members, and finally arriving at the hotel.  "I could get
used to this" she was thinking when the phone rang.  "Who
would be calling me?" she thought.  "Almost no one knows
I'm here".   Rusty answered the phone. There was one
mounted on the wall next to the hot tub.   It was Vince
Castellano, her boss in New York.  "I need you to do me a
favor." Vince said.  "Sure, Vince.  What is it?"  "Bobby
Parento, is a friend of ours.  He his having a problem with
a movie he is trying to make.  One of the unions is trying
to hold him up.  The union boss wants a big kickback to
"insure" that Bobby won't have any problems or delays with
his movie.  I told Bobby that you might have a talk with
this union person and see if you couldn't reach an
agreement with him.  Since Bobby is involved with the
unions out there he can't use any of his people.  Since you
were already out there, I thought you might be able to
handle this.  Will you help us out?  Bobby would pay you
well, if you can make this trouble go away."  Rusty
listened patiently to Vince's request and explanation.  "I
would be happy to help out, Vince."  Vince replied,  "I
knew you would.  Here's Bobby's number.  Give him a call. 
He's expecting you."   Rusty laughed "You rat.  You already
told him I would do it, didn't you?" she said.  "I knew you
would come through for me."  Vince said.  "You can take
extra time to make up for whatever amount of your vacation
you have to spend on this.  Take care of yourself, and good
luck." Vince broke the connection.  Rusty sighed again and
climbed out of the hot tub.  She finished her beer as she
got dressed in her usual outfit of jeans, tee shirt and
denim jacket.  She sat down on the sofa and picked up the
telephone to call Bobby Parento.

It was strange that Bobby was about to have union trouble. 
Back in the late fifties and early sixties when he was a
very young man, he had first gotten the attention of his
Mafia bosses by the way he worked his way into the union
structure in the movie business.  His bosses wanted a way
into that lucrative business and Bobby found a way to
control a picture was to control the unions.  The problem
had been that each facet of the industry had its own union. 
Bobby mangaged to position himself where he was basically
the man with clout in each of them.  He had done that with
a combination of smarts, hard work and of course the usual
Mafia headbreaking.  From there he had taken over Starlight
Studios, and since he never had any labor problems, his
studio was very successful.  It was strange how his
competitors always seemed to have labor difficulties, but
Bobby never did.  Now he was being threatened by a young
upstart who had risen to power, and as Bobby thought,
"Didn't really know who he was screwin' with."  Because of
his relationships with most of the unions, Bobby had to
tread lightly in this situation.  This man had to learn
that Starlight was not a studio he should threaten, but it
could not seem like Bobby had anything to do with it.  That
is where Rusty would come in.   This was the story Bobby
gave her on the phone.  Rusty decided that she would first
try to charm the man into cooperating, but is that didn't
work, there were always other measures that she was capable
of taking.  She made an appointment to see Bobby the next
morning, and hung up. 

Early the next morning Rusty showed up at Starlight
Studios.  She identified herself to the receptionist and
was shown right in to Bobby Parento's office.  Bobby stood
up from behind a huge desk, and came around to meet Rusty. 
He was a handsome man in his late fifties with silver hair,
and a brawlers nose that looked like it had been broken
several times, a reminder of his past.  Bobby was a couple
of inches shorter than Rusty, and had put on some weight
since his younger days.  That was hidden by an expensive,
meticulously tailored suit.    Bobby shook hands with Rusty
and marveled at the strength that was apparent in her grip. 
After they were both seated, Bobby handed Rusty a thin
folder.  On the jacket it read "Eddie Fazio".  Rusty opened
the folder.  The first item was an 8x10 photo.  Eddie Fazio
did not look like a union man, or any kind of worker for
that matter.  He looked like he should be appearing in the
movies instead.  Jet black hair, slicked back, piercing
dark eyes looking at the camera with a smoldering glance, a
slightly aquiline nose, and white teeth gleaming in
contrast to his dark complection.  Eddie was a "pretty boy"
as Bobby described him.  And a womanizer.  The next picture
was in complete contrast to Eddie Fazio.  Bill Rediger was
a big man.  He looked like an olympic weight lifter gone to
seed.  Short buzz cut hair, beady eyes almost hidden in
fat, big shoulders and chest, big gut.  He was Fazio's
chief headbreaker.  If Eddie couldn't get what he wanted,
Bill Rediger took over.  He always got results, according
to Bobby.  He also functioned as Eddie Fazio's bodyguard. 
Bobby scribbled an address on a piece of paper and gave it
to Rusty.  "There is a big party there tonight.  I'll be
there and Eddie Fazio will be there.  That would be a good
place for you to meet him." Bobby told her.  "What's the
dress code?" Rusty asked.  "Wear something sexy" was
Bobby's answer.  "Something that will help you get his
attention with all the little starlets running around
there."   "I'll try." Rusty answered.  "I dont' know how
I'll stack up with all those bimbos though" 
"Listen" , Bobby continues.  "You are a  beautiful woman. 
But I'll tell you something that is not in that folder. 
Eddie Fazio has always been attracted to athletic women. 
He dated that volleyball player who was also a model for a
while.  He has dated tennis players and golfers, even some
of the so called fitness girls.  So I'm betting one look at
you and he will forget all about those little girls running
around there half dressed."   Rusty just smiled.  "What
time should I be there?" she asked.  "Try around 8:30"
Bobby told her.  He stood up.  The meeting was over.  "I'll
leave it up to you on how to proceed." Bobby said.  "You do
what ever you think is necessary, but I do not want, No, I
can't afford to have this film delayed."   "Leave it to me"
Rusty said.  "There will be a nice payoff for you when this
is resolved"  Bobby said as he escorted her to his office
door.

Rusty returned to her bungalow.  She changed clothes and
headed for the hotel's fitness center.  They did have some
free weights she noticed when she entered.  The next forty
five minutes Rusty put her body through a very extensive
workout.  When she had finished her entire body was pumped,
her big legs swelled to unreal proportions, and her arms
exploded with bulging muscle.  She could feel the blood
flowing throught her distended veins carrying blood to the
muscles.  The few people who were in the gym at that time
of the day stared at her in awe.  She was quite a sight. 
Beautiful women with huge muscles were not commonly seen
there.  When Rusty had finished her workout, she returned
to her bungalow.  She undressed and got in the hot tub.  As
she soaked in the hot water, she read the Eddie Fazio
folder.  "I hope he comes around to Bobby's way of
thinking" she mused.  "It would be a shame to have to mess
up that face."  Next she read the information on Bill
Rediger.  "This guy is going to be trouble, I can feel it."
she thought.  That afternoon, she took a taxi to Rodeo
Drive, the famous shopping area in Beverly Hills to buy a
dress for that evening's party.    Rusty settled on a
black, sleeveless cocktail dress, with a matching black
sweater, just perfect for the California nights.  When she
saw the price, her breath caught for an instant, but she
realized that Bobby Parento was paying for it, so she
shrugged and handed over her credit card.  Rusty smiled as
she paid for the dress.  "A biker chick with a gold
American Express card" she thought.  "I have come a long
way".   Rusty then bought makeup since she had none with
her.  She then cabbed back to her bungalow and took a nap. 
At five o'clock she woke up and began to prepare for the
evening ahead.   She took a long, hot bath, something she
had not done in a long time.  Usually with her it was
strictly showers.  She thought a bath would make her feel
more feminine.  After her bath she carefully applied her
makeup.  After that she got dressed.  When she finished she
almost did not recognize the person in the mirror.  She
could have been one of the movie stars that would attend
the party instead of an enforcer and collector for a loan
shark.  She was absolutely gorgeous.  Beautiful, long red
hair framed her face with its high cheekbones and flashing
blue eyes.  Her aquiline nose was dusted with freckles that
added to rather than detracted from her beauty.  The dress
showed off her calves and just a hint of her muscular
thighs.  It also exposed her powerful upper body but the
sweater covered it when she put it on.  The only trouble
with the sweater was when she bent her arm the sleeve was
filled nearly to the bursting point with the hard bulging
muscle of her biceps.   Bobby had arranged to have her
picked up in the hotel lobby at eight o'clock.  Rusty
checked her watch and since it was only fifteen minutes
until she was due to leave, she took a walk to the hotel. 
The limo was right on time.  The driver nodded approvingly
as he opened the door for her.  Rusty looked around the
large limo and wondered why such a big car had been sent
for only one person.  She rode in silence to the party.   
It was at the home of Holly Randolph, a famous  star who
was scheduled to appear in Bobby Parento's movie. Rusty's
limo proved to be only one of many in a long line
delivering the high rollers of Hollywood to the party. The
huge mansion was set up for the party with uniformed
waiters and waitresses carrying around trays of
hor'doevers.  There were several bars set up in the house
and out by the pool.  Rusty did not think that drinking a
beer would be appropriate for the image she was trying to
project, so she took a glass of white wine instead.  She
finally spotted Bobby Parento who was engaged in a very
animated conversation with a man she recognized as Eddie
Fazio from his pictures.  "He looks even better in person."
she thought as she approached the two men.  "Hi, Bobby."
she said in her lowest, sexiest voice.  "Who's your good
looking friend."  Bobby turned to greet her.  "Hi, Rusty."
he said.  "Rusty Walters meet Eddie Fazio."  Rusty extended
her hand.  Eddie shook it admiring her firm grip then
raised it to his lips and kissed her hand.   Bobby excused
himself claiming he saw someone he needed to talk to. 
Eddie asked Rusty if she was in the movies.  She smiled and
explained that she was a financial consultant from New
York, sent out to check on some problems with Bobby's
movie.  "I sure hope you are not part of the problem,
Eddie" she said.  Eddie escorted her to a table and they
sat down.  Rusty explained that Bobby was having financial
difficulty and that anything like labor problems would
probably cause the movie to go under.  "He told me he was
having trouble with a union leader." Rusty concluded.   
"That would be me" Eddie told her.  "The old bastard won't
pay me what he should, so he is gonna have real trouble
trying to get this sucker going" Eddie continued.   "Bobby
says if it weren't for him you wouldn't even have this
position, that you should cut him some slack".   "Screw
him!" Eddie snapped.  "All of these old Mustasche Petes
think that we all owe them something, because of what they
did in the past.  Well, that is exactly where they all
live, in the past.  Either he pays or he gets shut down."   
"I'm really sorry to hear that" Rusty purred.  "My job is
to make sure that there is no trouble.  I was hoping we
could solve this amicably, but if not, it is me you will
have to deal with, not Bobby.".
She looked into Eddie's eyes.  "We can either be friends or
enemies." Rusty continued.  "I'd much rather be friends" 
Eddie smiled coldly.  "So would I." he stated.  "But Bobby
Parento pays me, or it's no go."  "Is there somewhere we
can go to talk about this privately?" Rusty asked.   "There
are a lot of empty bedrooms upstairs." Eddie said.  "Lead
the way" Rusty answered.  They both stood up.  Rusty took
his hand as they walked through the house to the stairs. 
They went up the stairs, found an empty room and went in. 
Eddie didn't see Rusty lock the door.   Eddie turned to her
and removed his suit jacket.  "Convince me" he said.  Rusty
ran through Bobby Parento's history with the unions.  At
the conclusion she said.  "Don't you think he deserves a
little break?"  He worked very hard to help the unions get
established, and now you want to treat him just like any
other studio head?  That doesn't make sense."   "I'll tell
you what." Eddie said.  "I'll take fifty thousand instead
of seventy five to make this go away."    "I have a counter
offer for you" Rusty explained.  "You get nothing, and you
make it go away"   "That is stupid" responded Eddie.  I
have to get something."   Rusty sighed and slowly removed
her sweater.  "If you agree, we might be able to work
something out.  If you don't, I'll have to force you."
Rusty told him.  Eddie's eyes widened considerably when he
saw her powerful, muscular body.  "You think by offering me
a roll in the hay, that I'm gonna give Bobby a pass on
this, you're crazy.  He's gonna pay or else."  Rusty sighed
again.  "Eddie, you leave me no choice.  I have something
for you."  Eddie smiled in anticipation.  "What do you have
for me?" he grinned.   "This!!" Rusty snarled as she
suddenly smashed her big right fist deep into Eddie's
unprepared belly.  Eddie had been in several fights in his
life but he had never been hit that hard.  And by a
beautiful woman on top of that.  He was gasping for air
when Rusty leaned in so that her lips were brushing his
ear.  "You could have avoided this, but you had to be a pig
headed asshole!" she whispered in his ear.  "I'm personally
glad you didn't change your mind.  I love doing this" she
said.  Eddie felt another explosion in his gut as the
redhead ripped her fist up into it again.   Again she
leaned in with her lips against his ear.  "This is just the
warning.  Back off, or you'll get much worse."  That same
hard, vicious fist smashed into his chin. The waves of
nausea and pain he was feeling were cut off and he saw
flashing lights felt a sharp pain and everything went
black.  Eddie lifted up off the floor from the powerful
uppercut that Rusty had smashed into his chin and fell on
his back.  Rusty picked him up and laid him on the bed. 
Then she picked up her sweater, put it on and went
downstairs.   She found Bobby and reported to him.  "Where
is he now?" Bobby asked.  "Upstairs, sleeping off the
results of our conversation." Rusty said.  "Ignore the
bruise on his chin the next time you see him." Rusty added. 
Bobby nodded as he understood what had happened.  "I don't
think he will stop on his own.  I will have to convince
him." Rusty told Bobby. 

Bill Rediger was nervous.   He didn't like it when Eddie
wandered off upstairs with the redhead, and now she was
back but Eddie wasn't.   Bill went to find him.   He
started a room to room search looking for Eddie.  He
surprised and pissed off a lot of people, but no Eddie
Fazio.  At last he shoved open a bedroom door, and saw a
body on the bed.  Cautiously he entered the room.  It was
Eddie sprawled out on the bed.  "Hell of a time to take a
nap." Bill  thought.  "Eddie, Eddie, wake up!" he said. 
Eddie did not move or respond.  Bill moved closer.  He
tried to wake Eddie up.   Finally Eddie began to move
around with a groan. Groggily he sat up.  He was dizzy, so
he flopped back down on the pillow.  "Eddie, what're you
doin'?" Bill asked.  Eddie Fazio shook his head.  "Fuckin'
bitch sucker punched me." he said.  "What in hell are you
talkin' about?" Bill asked him.  "That redheaded bitch
works for Bobby Parento.  She got me up here and started
talkin' about the friggin' movie.  Asked me to lay off
Bobby.  Started takin' off her clothes.  I thought she was
gonna give me some pussy, then she sucker punched me.  God,
she can hit.  Knocked me out, right here where you found
me.  Said I would get worse if I didn't back off Bobby. " 
Eddie rubbed his hand over his chin where a noticable
bruise was starting to form.  "Mabbe I should have a little
talk with her." Bill said.  "Not here, not tonight." Eddie
said.  "I'll set up a meeting with her tomorrow, then I
want you to take her apart, piece by piece."   Bill
grinned.  "Then can I fuck her, boss?" he asked.  "You can
do anything you want, as long as she disappears from here. 
Help me up, I'm still a little woozy.  I'll go find her and
set up the meeting."  Slowly Eddie got off the bed and to
his feet.  He was still a bit dizzy from Rusty's knockout
punch.  He went into the bathroom and washed his face.  The
cold water helped considerably.  After regaining his
bearings, he went downstairs in search of Rusty.   He
spotted her standing off to one side of the room with a
half smile on her face observing all the activity in the
house.  "Jesus, she is beautiful" Eddie thought.  "And she
has a punch like a mule's kick.  She thinks she is so damn
tough.  It'll be fun watching Bill take her apart."  Eddie
made his way over to Rusty.  She smiled at him.  "I hope
you have reconsidered you position.  It will save you a lot
of trouble and pain." Rusty said.  "Why don't we meet
tomorrow to discuss it further?" Eddie asked.  "That sounds
good to me.  Where should we meet?" she asked.  Eddie
produced a business card with his office address on it. 
"Meet me here at eleven o'clock tomorrow.  I'm going home
now, I seem to have developed a headache." he stated. 
Eddie found his hostess, thanked her for the invitation,
expressed his regrets for having to leave so soon, and went
home.  Rusty had watched from a discreet distance,  keeping
an eye on Bill Rediger, sizing him up.  She knew that she
would have to deal with him at some point, so she was
hoping to go ahead and get it over with.  Bill got behind
the wheel and drove off with Eddie slumped in the back
seat, still not completely recovered from his encounter
with Rusty.   Not long after that, Rusty left the party
after having evaded the advances of over half the men
there.

The next morning Rusty got up early and went to work out
again.   She loved the way her muscles felt as they pushed
and pulled against the heavy weights.  The pump that she
got was an unbelievable rush.  When she finished the veins
stood out like ropes through her arms and shoulders.  Her
muscles bulged to amazing size after the lifting she had
done.  She returned to her bungalow, showered and got
dressed.  She decided to ride her Harley to the meeting
with Eddie Fazio.  "I don't know what he is up to, but it
can't be good." she thought.  "He gave in way too easy. 
They must have some trick planned."  At a little after ten
o'clock Rusty locked her bungalow, mounted her Harley and
rode off, on her way to the meeting.  She arrived early
which allowed her time to scout out the area.  She could
not find anything amiss, but she still had an uneasy
feeling in the pit of her stomach.  That feeling had saved
her life many times.  It said to her that everything was
not as it should be.   She was immediately on guard.  At
precisely eleven o'clock she opened the door and strode in. 
A receptionist looked up with a bored look on her face. 
Rusty told her that she had a meeting with Eddie Fazio. 
The girl buzzed the intercom and told Eddie that Rusty had
arrived.   Eddie came out of his office and greeted her. 
They talked for a few minutes, then Eddie led her to a door
in the rear of the corridor.  "Not in your office?" Rusty
asked.  "We have a special conference room set up." Eddie
replied.  He opened the door and ushered Rusty inside.   
She looked around.  The room was bare with chairs around
the edges of the room.  Rusty guessed it was about 20'x20',
a big room.   A door opened on the far side and in walked
Bill Rediger.  He was wearing jeans and no shirt.  His big
upper body was evident immediately.  His beer gut hung over
his belt, but it was obvious that he was strong as an ox. 
Eddie looked at Rusty with an evil grin.  "This is our
negotiator, Bill Rediger." he said.   Bill smiled at her. 
"All I need to know is where to ship your body when I'm
through, er, negotiating."  he said with his humorless
smile.   Rusty looked from Bill to Eddie.  "So this is the
way it's going to be, huh Eddie?" she said.  "Well, when
I'm through with your stooge here, I'm coming for you, and
this time you won't get off nearly so easy."   Rusty
removed her jacket leaving her dressed in her jeans and
cropped tee shirt.  The shirt covered her without hiding
anything.  Her flat, rippled, hard stomach, her big
shoulders and bulging arms were all on display.   "Come on,
big boy, let's see what you've got." she said to Bill. 
Bill shuffled toward Rusty "Come on, bitch.  Let's git it
on!" he crowed.   Slowly the two fighters circled each
other.  Eddie sat in one of the chairs with a look of
anticipation on his face.  "Bust her up good, Bill." he
encouraged.  "Show her she can't get a way with what she
did to me." 

Bill rushed at Rusty and she was surprised by the speed
with which the big man could move.  WHACK!! the sound of
the collision filled the room.  His big shoulder struck her
cleanly in the midsection and knocked Rusty to the floor
and shook her up a bit.  While she was on the floor, Bill
raised his foot and stomped on her. One, two, three times
he raised his foot and drove it down on her body.  The
fourth time Rusty grasped his foot in her hands and
twisted.  Bill lost his balance and fell to the floor
beside her.  Rusty rolled over behind him and wrapped her
legs around his head.  Bill was trapped in a vicious head
scissors hold.  Rusty turned on all the power in her muscle
packed legs.   The expanding muscle in her thighs was
clearly outlined by her skin tight jeans.  Bill thought his
head would burst from the extreme pressure she was
exerting.  The pain was excruciating.  His face was beet
red, and he was becoming disoriented.  Then suddenly the
pressure was gone.  Rusty had released his head from the
deadly scissors and rolled away from him.  Bill crawled
around trying to get his bearings.  Rusty took hold of his
left arm and helped him up.  When Bill was standing fully
erect, a sound like a clap of thunder filled the room. The
sound had been caused as Rusty blasted her iron right fist
into his protruding belly.  Her fist seemed to disappear
from sight in the flesh of his corpulent gut.  All of
Bill's wind was expelled in one giant gush of air that
rushed from his lungs.  Now her left fist as trying to keep
pace with the right rocketed into the soft flab of Bill's
stomach.  UUUNNNNGGG!!  Bill folded around the invading
fist and a spray of mucous came out of his nose and mouth
as he vomited.  Rusty pushed him upright and hammered her
right fist deep into that soft pillow that was his gut
again.  WWWHHHUUUDDD!!!  OOOHHHHH!!   Bill jackknifed in
two.  Rusty shoved him up straight.  Now the left again. 
TTHHUUMMPP!!!  AAAAGGGGHHH!!   Upright again.  Now one more
time that sledgehammer right.  WWHHOOMMPP!!!  OOOAAAHHHH!!! 
Rusty stepped back and let him fall this time.  Bill curled
up in a ball clutching his mangled belly.  Rusty looked
down at him,  "Had enough, fat boy?" she asked.  Even
through the haze of pain he was in, Bill couldn't believe
that this beautiful woman was beating the crap out of him. 
he rolled over and started getting to his feet.  "I'm gonna
kill you, bitch!" he snarled. 
"I know," Rusty replied.  "You keep hitting me right in the
fist with your fat gut."  This made Bill even angrier.   
Bill was still slightly bent over from the pain in his
belly.  He lowered his head even more and charged at Rusty
again.  This time she stepped forward to meet him.  Her
right fist came up in a powerful, muscle driven uppercut
that exploded under his chin.  Bill's head snapped back so
far it seemed to touch his back.  His forward momentum
abruptly stopped, and he toppled like a tree over on his
back.  How he remained conscious was amazing to Rusty.   
She turned to Eddie and said "Call him off before I have to
hurt him badly."   Eddie swallowed hard  "He's not done
yet, slut." he said.  "Just remember, you're next!" Rusty
told him.  She walked back over to Bill, reached down and
hauled him to his feet.  She leaned in close and said. 
"Give it up, you can't win and all you can do is get hurt
even more, and I do like hurting thugs like you" she
whispered.  Bill made a half-hearted swing at her with his
left fist.  Rusty shrugged  "Have it your way, then.  I
tried to save you from this." she said.   She brought a
left hook around that smashed Bill's right eye, causing it
to start to swell immediately.  It would be closed in a
matter of minutes.  He staggered back from the impact of
the vicious blow.   A straight right smashed his nose into
a flat lump of bloody tissue as blood splashed on both of
them.  Once again Bill staggered back.  Rusty stayed right
with him.   She started battering his belly again with
savage hooking punches, ripping them deep into the soft
flesh of his stomach.   Eddie sat watching this in awe and
was locked down into his seat by fear as the woman
continued to pound her fists into Bill's gut. He now was no
more than her human punching bag.   Strings of green mucous
were hanging out of his nose and mouth, and dark red blood
was seeping ou of his mouth.  Still the powerful redhead
continued her barrage into his belly.   At last she
stopped, and the big man fell forward against her body. 
Rusty caught him and held him upright.    When she released
him he started falling forward again.  Before she had
released him Rusty wound up with her right fist and started
a mighty punch straight at his jaw.  CCCRRRAAAKKKK!!!!! her
fist slammed into his jaw, causing blood and teeth to spray
out of his mouth and into the air.  Once again Bill's
forward motion was stopped and he sailed back , turning as
he flew through the air, and landed face down on the floor. 
Rusty walked over to him.  She prodded his body with her
foot, getting no response.  Bill was out cold.  Rusty
gestured at the unconscious man.  "Look what you caused. 
You should have let him quit.  Now he has a broken nose,
broken jaw, and several teeth missing.  Are you happy now?"
Rusty bent over and began picking up Bill Rediger's teeth. 
"For my collection. Would you like to make a contribution?"
she asked him.   Eddie did not answer.  He leaped up and
scrambled for the door.  Rusty caught him in two steps. 
When Eddie felt her hand close on his collar, he started
blubbering.  "Please don't hurt me.  I'll do anything you
want.  Just don't bust me up like you did Bill.  I'll make
sure that Bobby doesn't have any union trouble on his
movie.  Just please don't hurt me."  Eddie was begging.   
"If you don't take care of this, I can still find you and
what just happened to your stooge will seem like a picnic
before I'm through with you!" she said.  Eddie started to
feel relieved.  Getting beaten like Bill had was not worth
fifty thousand dollars to him.  "However," Rusty continued. 
"I have to give you a little message just to make sure you
understand."  Her right fist smashed up into Eddie's belly,
as his head snapped forward, her left came up in a savage
uppercut.  As his head snapped back, her right fist crashed
into the point of Eddie's chin, knocking him out and
driving him against the wall.  Eddie's unconscious body
slid down the wall into a sitting position with his back
against the wall.  Rusty shoved him over on the floor with
her foot.   She saw a tooth hanging loosely out of his
mouth, and she reached down and pulled it out of his mouth. 
"You did make a contribution to my collection after all,
punk!" she said to the man who was not capable of hearing
her.  Rusty walked out and back the way she had entered. 
She told the receptionist that the two men might need
medical help, and continued out of the building.  She got
on her Harley and rode back to her bungalow.

The next day Rusty called Bobby Parento.  "How is the movie
going?" she asked.  "It is going without a hitch."  Bobby
answered.  "I don't know what you said or did to Eddie
Fazio, but he has been extremely cooperative.  He has
promised no union problems.  He does look like he fell into
a meat grinder, though.  There has been a check deposited
for you in your account, and I have told Vince about how
you handled the situation for us, and he is pleased as
well."  Rusty moaned as the young bellhop she had met when
she first checked in,  began nibbling on her nipples, and
sucking on her breasts.  "Rusty? are you alright?" Bobby
asked.  Rusty grasped the young man's hair and guided his
face down to her crotch.  He immediately began to lick and
suck her clit.  She gasped again, and said "I'm fine Bobby,
I'll talk to you later." and hung up the phone.  Rusty
turned her full attention to the man who was industriously
using his mouth on her, and let herself go, getting caught
up in the moment.  A few hours later, she gazed down on the
man asleep in her bed.  Rusty had used up all of his
energy.   She quietly got dressed, packed and left the
bungalow.  She pushed her Harley a short distance to keep
from waking him.  Rusty stopped to pay her bill and found
out it had been taken care of by Bobby Parento.  On her way
out she picked up a newspaper.  The headlines read.  "Union
Conflict in the movie business?"  "There may be a union war
cranking up in the moving picture business.  Union
president Eddie Fazio was found beaten and unconscious in
his office yesterday with a broken jaw.  His lieutenant and
right hand man, Bill Rediger was found almost battered
beyond recognition.  Mr. Fazio was treated at the hospital
and released.  Mr. Rediger was admitted with internal
injuries, a broken jaw, shattered teeth and a broken nose. 
He will require plastic surgery to rebuild his face.  There
were no witnesses to these acts of violence, but both Mr.
Fazio and Mr. Rediger claim they were attacked by four men
wielding baseball bats and crowbars.  The only witness may
have been a red haired woman who was described by Mr.
Fazio's receptionist as being very attractive and athletic
looking who tipped off the receptionist that the two men
might require medical attention.  The L.A. police would
like to interview this mystery woman, if she can be found. 
Mr. Fazio has returned to work while Mr. Rediger remains in
the hospital awaiting his surgery."