The Impossible Girl

The Boxing Match

Paul Voltaire was a fast rising star on the boxing scene. Standing a hair over 6 foot 5 inches and considered freakishly fast and powerful he had become the regional champ and was being considered a serious contender for the world title in the near future. His sponsors and trainer had all been convinced to put him into some side exhibition match on the way. The challenger was kept a mystery to him so when he walked through the crowd and entered the ring he was surprised to see a woman about a half foot shorter than him.
She had on an over-sized robe covering her body and dangling over her own set of boxing gloves, but the over-sized drape of it didn't entirely hide her clearly killer figure. Black hair framed what was probably the most perfectly beautiful face he'd ever laid eyes on even counting heavily Photo-shopped magazine work on super models. She watched him approach with a smug grin.
"Hmm, I think you should reconsider lady," he said and she only raised an eyebrow in response, "why should a pretty thing like you risk getting bashed up?"
She smirked harder and responded, "It's a shame. The ideal retort would be to say that's a question you should ask yourself. If only you were more attractive."
He scowled and growled a little low in the throat, "You know the last woman to step in here with me..."
"Was quite extensively damaged, I know. It was supposed to be a demonstration of technique, but you went way too far."
"Huh, well that's what you get when you step in the ring. It's a risk."
"That's what you get for being better than you, you mean? She had a better technique, but she lacked the power to really hurt you so when she started to tire you took it out on her in a rage that you weren't as good."
She moved her gloved hands and started to open her robe with some surprising ease in spite of the gloves. He noticed the not insignificant cleavage she had showing through her sports bra with some appreciation as she paused for a moment and posed a bit, thrusting her torso out to the left and right and smirking at the spirited hoots from the audience. Then she opened the whole front revealing some stunningly pronounced and defined abs. They bulged under her impossibly perfectly even, brown skin so tightly and were so perfectly symmetrical that they looked nearly more like fitted armor plates than muscles. She then shucked off the robe onto an attendant and exposed some surprisingly thick and powerful looking arms and legs, but still retained some level of femininity in her overall build.
"Body builder? Shame such a gal went and ruined it by..."
"Bulking up? Really? You have it all wrong. These muscles ruin other people. Especially meat-head douche-bags that break the eye sockets of women I know."
"She knew the risks when she stepped up to fight the best."
"WRONG. You are a lousy fighter. Someone in proper control of their body wouldn't hurt a sparring partner, they wouldn't break bones in an exhibition match. You, Mister Voltaire, suck, and I'm going to make sure you understand that before we're done."
Bitch, he fumed, who did she think she was? He felt the rage boil over and he lashed out at her with a quick jab. His fist stopped dead and his arm shook as it felt like he punched a solid slab of metal as she caught his fist in her open palm. He pulled it away without trouble as she couldn't close her smaller hand around his through the glove but he was shocked.
"That was just a light jab."
"You got that right," she said with a little laugh, "I barely felt it. I hope you can do a lot better than that. This is like my tenth boxing match, I've been hoping they'd find someone who could make it interesting."
Tenth? That couldn't be, he didn't even get to the professional level until a lot more matches than that, and he certainly wasn't considered for fighting any regional champs.
She started to turn and head for her corner before turning a bit and saying, "I haven't introduced myself. My name's Lisa. We'll see if you remember it after the blackout."
He was angry enough he seriously considered taking a swing at the back of her head - with his other arm - but his manager came up to him and led him to his corner.
"What's wrong with you? Throwing a punch before anything's started? Your damn temper's going to end your career sooner than you'd like at this rate. Lucky it wasn't a full blow or anything I guess."
Right...not a full blow...and surely he was imagining the ringing through his arm and this sense of utter dread running through his body.
The announcements didn't take long, his opponent was introduced as the Impossible Woman, Lisa DeLuca and he wondered what sort of nonsense that was. She came out of her corner with an exaggerated bounce in her motion, jumping back and forth at a height that was definitely going to be quickly energy depleting. He swung and she leaned away just enough for the blow to miss her. He swung again and she jumped to the side. He got frustrated and started quickly lashing out with a flurry of jabs. She leaned left and right for a while and when he stepped in to try to drive her to a corner she just sprung to one side. He picked up the speed but it was useless. She kept him moving around in a circle trying to hit her, she wasn't being backed to the ropes or corner at all.
He got tired and brought his arms close to guard while he tried to think of another approach to take. The other woman had been faster than him too, but she wasn't bouncing around him like some kind of jumping bean. He decided to try a feint, launched a weak left and then threw out his right at full power. She didn't even respond to the fake punch and ducked under his arm and punched him underneath it. His momentum stopped completely and he even wobbled back some. He tried to shift his weight and respond but she was just too fast. A dozen blows rained down on him in quick succession. He was barely aware of being driven back before he hit the corner. She landed a couple blows to his head before he could get his hands up. Then she backed away and raised her arms over her head and jumped around. He was a terrible fighter? She might have landed a few heavy-weight level blows on him, but he'd taken a lot worse before. He started to advance on her but was struck by a wave of nausea and fell to his knees.
"ONE!"
What? He was only on his...huh, he didn't remember falling all the way down.
"TWO!"
He must have blacked out for a second there. Well, it wasn't the first time. He stood back up and stopped the count.
The girl looked at him with some surprise on her face. Then she looked him up and down like she was re-evaluating him.
"You're sturdy," she punched her gloves together in front of her muscular stomach and grinned like a prankster child on Christmas morning, "I can get rowdy with you."
She flexed out her arms, round biceps bulging intensely and threw out her chest for a second and he noticed the material of her top strain and stretch a moment. He jumped forward for the attack but she wasn't there for the blow to connect. She struck him in the side so hard he huffed out all of his breath. He was sure he was about to fall forward but his chin was caught in an upper cut that sent him back up to his feet. He struggled to get his balance and another blow hit him sending him pinwheeling into the ropes. He caught himself and saw she wasn't pursuing. She put her hands on her hips and looked at him with a condescending expression.
What the hell? She wasn't only the fastest opponent he'd ever met, she hit harder than anyone he'd ever gone up against too. He felt that sense of dread returning.
'You're going to lose and lose hard.'
Stupid inner voice, he ignored it and got up again. He approached carefully this time, seeing if he could wait her into making the first move. She didn't wait long, her punch was slower than the others, giving him enough time to raise his arms in defense. The raw power of the blow pushed his arm like it wasn't even an obstacle and it bumped into his own head, driven by her fist. He wobbled a bit but he didn't fall again. He came back swinging again and she dodged just as easily as before, but now she would occasionally use her arms to deflect his blows and it felt like someone was smacking his arms to the side with iron bars.
Then she got tired of playing.
The rain of blows continued to be the strongest and fastest he'd ever encountered. They were perfectly thrown too, and he was helpless to attack again. The entire rest of the first round went by without him able to do anything more than try to put up a pitiful, failing defense. She was grinding him down quickly. He never would have guessed anyone could down him in one round, but she sure came close. He was grateful beyond words for the bell and gladly took the drink and water at his corner.
"What the hell are you doing out there? You're flinching like it hurts and you never do that."
"I've never been hit by someone so strong..."
"Are you kidding? She's a woman barely more than half your size! Sure she's fast, but come on, you have experience, reach, and weight on her!"
"I dunno...her punches seem perfect..."
"Again, that's nuts. She hasn't broken anything or..."
He didn't hear the rest. He wasn't damaged? Well, seriously damaged, he was becoming a giant bruise under her assault and there was blood from his head...though it was away from his eyes. It made him think of what she said about not hurting a sparring partner. Was that her plan? To not take a hit and tear him down without doing permanent harm? He fumed and raged and the adrenaline pushed him back to his feet and on the attack again.
She dodged and weaved, but his new rage gave him strength and determination. The crowd cheered as he showed new signs of making it a fight and it only pushed him on all the more. He was getting her where he wanted her! Finally his opening revealed itself and he let fly a punch with all the power he could muster. He swung with as much of his body as he could and caught her right in the middle of her chiseled abs. His momentum and power hit her so hard she flew several feet into the ropes. Her arms dangled over the top as she leaned on them and the crowd fell silent after a shocked "Oooh..."
He fell to his knees again and his eyes bulged with shock. The pain coursing through his hand was so intense...it must be broken, and broken badly. A beautiful woman's laugh echoed around the ring, the bleachers, and Lisa stood up completely unharmed.
"Do you understand yet? Just how badly outclassed you are?"
She only weighed so much, she couldn't keep her body from moving under the blow, but those sculpted muscles were hard and powerful well beyond his ability to harm... He got up and moved his ruined hand to a position at his side, facing her with the other arm but he knew it was utterly useless.
"Your first broken bones are all self-inflicted," she stretched her arms over her head and twisted a bit in away some of the audience certainly appreciated, "But not the rest."
"What the hell are you?"
"I am a great many, many things, mainly starting from genetic perfection, but all you need to know is I'm the end of your boxing career."
There was no blocking, no counterattacking, no hope of a fight. His clavicle, lower ribs, and the side of his head seemed to explode in a cacophony of pain all simultaneously. He was dimly aware of being counted out and watching Lisa's muscular legs strut about for a few seconds before darkness mercifully took the pain away.
When he woke up he was in a hospital, bandages over his arm, torso and head. They told him he'd probably be able to recover most function but he probably shouldn't ever box again. He had the visitors he would expect, but found surprisingly little news about the incident. What little there was didn't go into a lot of detail. It was a couple days later towards the end of visiting hours when he got the last visitor he wanted to see. The machine beside him made distressed beeps as it told him about changes to his heart rate he was all too aware of.
"How's it going big guy?" She grabbed his arm and made a bit of a show of squeezing his bicep with her steely fingers biting deeply into it, "All that size, and they are rather pretty even if your face isn't, but they're so soft and weak... it's kind of sad."
Fear tightened his throat and he could barely squeak out "Heeelp..."
"Shush that. If I was going to kill you or anything, I'd have just put my fist through your skull back in the ring."
"Then what..."
"I'm here to encourage you to follow the doctor's advice and leave boxing. Any further matches could end up being truly awful for your health."
"Worse than this?!"
"So much worse. I can do a lot of things, and this was just the tip of the iceberg so to say," Lisa tilted her hips a bit and smiled with a strange amount of warmth, "so if you don't want to find out just how badly I can ruin your life, you'll never box again and you'll sure as hell never beat anyone again."
"That seems hypocritical..."
"I do have some pretty deep double standards, but so far no one's been able to do anything to me about it. You can't outsmart or outrun me any more than you could out-box me and that's not real fighting. I would win even easier in an actual fight, so you have no choice but to follow my unreasonable demands."
"You're all that, huh?"
"You doubt me?"
"No. No-no-no..."
"Good."
"Excuse me, visiting hours are over and I can't say he seems all that happy to see you."
"That's alright, I'm done here."
Lisa left with a confident strut and went to try to find something interesting to do.