Fighting words

So, I'd just sent out a dozen or so letters and sets of pictures, but I still wanted a little pocket money. I loved your suggestion about trying for sporting events, but I didn't want to go through all the effort and time of going through competitions, rankings, championships and such.

Instead I did a little exploring in one of the shadier parts of town. I'd changed into my new stiletto heels, a pair of latex pants that were stretched to their limits and a crop top of dark green nylon. Now, I would have never tried this before my change, but of course I had nothing to be afraid of now.

I was a little disappointed that nobody tried anything on my walk, but you can't always be lucky I guess. Still, once I arrived at the old port district, and particularly, an 'abandoned' warehouse that had quite a bit of shouting and noise coming from it for an empty building. I knocked on the door, rather loudly, making small dents in the thin metal. A small slider opened that I hadn't noticed before, a rather ugly man asked what I was doing here. "I'm here for the fight", I answered, making sure he had a good view of my assets. He must have assumed I meant that I wanted to watch, because he wanted to charge me three thousand pounds. I didn't have that much, so I had to improvise.

With one hand, I quickly pulled the door open, tearing the lock through the weak wooden doorframe, while my other hand closed around his mouth. I softly squeezed his windpipe shut, being careful not to cause any permanent damage. "Sorry about this, sleep tight" I whispered in his ear, before lifting his unconscious body and putting it somewhere out of the way.

I had a look around the place first. There was one large boxing ring, surrounded by a circle of crude benches, packed with people. Off to the side, there was a large blackboard, someone writing numbers and taking money from the visitors. I had no idea how it worked, but I did know it had something to do with better, and when there's betting, I could make some money. Next, I walked to another man; a grubby looking guy in a poorly fitting suit, surrounded by what I guessed must have been the 'contestants'. I walked up the man, he checked me out, looking up and... well, he seemed to get stuck somewhere in the middle. 

"Hi" I said, as cheerfully as I could, "I'd like to join." With one of the worst accents I'd ever heard, he informed that they had enough ring girls, but I was welcome to his room afterwards. Fighting back the urge to snap him in half, I told him I was there for the fight. He just laughed and turned away. I was considering how to persuade him, when someone else barged in "Boss", he panted "Vinnie the Crusher still ain't found anyone ta fight 'im, says they's all scared". "Excuse me" I said, again as cheerful as I could manage "I'll fight Vincent if everyone else is scared". "If it'll shut you up" he replied, "it's your funeral, but tell you what dolly. If you last more than one round, I'll pay you 5000 quid." Now that was more like it. "Deal", I said, as I extended a hand. As I shook his hand, I squeezed to tight enough until I could feel his bones were about to snap, let go and walked away. The next thing I did was place a bet, on myself, for 200 pounds, the last money in my wallet.



An hour and half later, wishing I had brought a change of clothes, or at least a towel or something, I stepped into the ring. The crowd cheered, and I waved happily, I was rather enjoying myself, until the cheers turned to booing and insults. That's when I noticed a man climbing in the ring. Well, I say man, but he looked more like a bear mated with a rhino. He had to walk through door sideways, and his face looked like more than one person had broken his hand on his nose. This must be Vinnie.

I extended my hands, I hadn't been given gloves, not that I needed any, but he opened up straight away with a fist to my face. I easily dodged it, stepping back two steps. "So much for not hitting girls" I said to myself. Now, you've got to realize, despite what I'd done the whole week, I was still new to those and a bit scared inside, so when I threw my first punch, it was probably a little harder than it should have been. As my small fist struck his abs, it pushed deep inside, bending him over like a twig, he staggered all the way back into the ropes. Making sure the crowd got a good show; I looked at my hand and wiped it on my shirt. He was getting the a few blows for free, I decided.

When he came back, he looked even more like a rhino, charging straight for me. I played with him a bit, getting a little workout which only served to make me look better, but I had to be careful, as I'd only just bought my clothes and didn't want to ruin them in front of hundreds of people. After I'd dodged five or six punches, I let him have a hit. I flexed my abs hard as his glove connected. It felt... well, it felt good. Not soft, but it felt rather pleasant, not to mention I loved knowing that however hard he hit me, I could take much, much more. I hoped he'd follow up with more, but he clenched his hand, screaming. I just smiled and stood there, hands in my sides.

His next punch was an uppercut to my face. I decided not to brace for this one, I didn't want to hurt his other hand as well. It turned out that it didn't matter at all, even though I rolled my head with the blow, I could still hear a loud snap from inside the boxing glove. My chin was, of course, completely unharmed and I was feeling better and better. I wasn't the only one enjoying myself; the crowd was either staring openmouthed, or laughing loudly at the big man. "What's the matter, did you hurt your little hand?" I taunted, which made him throw another punch, straight at my chest.

Not wanting him to ruin my shirt, I stood on my toes, leaning back a bit, allowing his hand to connect to my bare flesh. It felt wonderful, having his hard blow press into my breast just a little, before sliding off, right inside my cleavage. Instinctually, I tightened my pectorals, which resulted into a loud scream from Vinnie. Letting go and stepping back, I saw a trickle of blood coming out of his oddly-shaped glove. I must have crushed his hand with just a small twitch of my chest muscles.

I had to end the fight soon, not because I was tired, but because Vinnie might kill himself trying to hurt me. The second punch I threw that game was a lot more gentle than my first, but it had to be, I was aiming for his head. He tried to block it, but he might as well have tried to block a speeding car with his hands (something I'm sure I would have no trouble with). I hit his head just hard enough to put him down. He'd wake up with the mother of all headaches, but he would wake up.

The match was over within two minutes and within five minutes, I'd collected my pay and my earning from the little bet I made. At 60 to 1, I'd earned a total of 17.000 pounds, not bad for a few hours of very enjoyable work. I left a thousand pounds with Vinnie, feeling a little sorry for him and decided that a dance club sounded like the best place to celebrate my new little hobby.

Introductions 1

Recently, something rather strange happened to me, now, I'm not complaining or anything, but I just had to share with everyone. That's why I'm blogging here.

Now, my name isn't really Amanda, but it's close enough. I'm a 19 years old girl and I was born in a small country in south-eastern Europe. I recently finished school and moved to the UK. I'm 5'6" and 92 pounds.... Well I used to be. But let me start at the beginning.

It all starts the day after I turned 19, or the night of the party really. I was having a party with four of my friends. Well, I wouldn't call them my best friends, I don't think I have any 'best friends', but that's not important right now. We were about to go from the pub to a club and do some serious dancing, when I felt really ill. I think I threw up, but I don't really remember. The next thing I do remember is waking up outside my door, one of my friends holding me up, asking for my keys. When I woke up again, it was the middle of the day.

I felt horrible, like my bones had turned to jelly. All I managed to do was literally crawl to the fridge, grab some food and eat it in bed. I don't remember the days after it, except in a blur of sleeping, waking, feeling sore and ill and less pleasant activities. I woke up later, five days later as I learned afterwards, feeling wonderful again.

I almost jumped out of bed, when I noticed my headache. I almost collapsed on my bed again, but the smell of five days of sweat and god knows what else stopped me. I staggered to the shower, turned it as hot as I could stand and started taking off my clothes. I remember my head pounded, but I could still feel my clubbing clothes I wore when I was brought home.

The clothing felt horrible, sticky from the sweat (I really hope it was just sweat), making it hard to take off, especially with my pounding head. I struggled out of my top and skirt, took my remaining sock off and stepped into the shower, pulling the door shut and locking it. I must have showered for an hour; all I noticed was how tight I felt. I took it for muscle cramps at the time, which shows how my head felt. The first strange thing I remember was that the door wasn't stuck, but it made a lot of noise when I opened it.

When I stepped outside, the noise finally got through to my brain. I turned around, looking at the door. There was a rather large piece missing from the doorframe, the missing piece of a concrete was lying at the end of the hall. Hazily, I stepped back inside the shower, grabbing the door handle again to try and find out what happened. The missing piece of the doorframe was right next to the handle, which, I noticed, still had the locking pin extended. I thought that was rather strange, which is kind of funny now that I think back to it. I wondered how I opened the door when it was still locked, until I turned to the mirror that is.

What I saw was nothing short of amazing. There was a woman, she had my face, but it looked better, prettier. Her cheekbones were just a little higher than mine, slightly more pronounced. Her nose was more shapely, pretties and her skin was like mine, but tanned and completely flawless. I reached up to feel my own face and so did the mirror image. Only when I felt the features, I realized those were mine. My nose was shapelier, my skin was more perfect...

Then I looked down her body... or my body, as I remembered. The first thing I noticed was that the top of my head was as high as the top of the mirror, which must have been almost six feet and a few inches of the ground. I raised my arm, noticing it was a lot bigger than before. When I flexed it (I didn't know that word back then, but it's amazing what you can learn from a day on Google) I could just fit my hand around half of it, the muscle was bigger then I'd ever seen. My shoulders were rounder, I turned around and noticed my back was bigger, firmer and much, much more defined then before, I could see bulges and valleys that I'd never seen before.

I stopped looking at the mirror, looking down instead. If my arms looked like that, I couldn't wait to see my abs. It turned out that I had to wait, because something was in the way. My breasts had gone up at least four sized from my old B cup (I'm sure you know the alphabet well enough to figure out their current size). They were so pert; I would never need a bra again. 

Taking down the mirror, I finally had a look at my stomach, seeing a well defined 4-pack when I flexed. Further down, I saw my wide, bulging legs, the round calves and the definition of a fitness model. In fact, I looked like I could score quite well in any fitness competition without much effort.

I'll tell you about my next discovery tomorrow, as well as the real reason why I started this blog/diary.