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.