Newlyed Boxing - Part 1

This is a work in progress. Place your bets on the outcome!

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“Wait, I’m still confused,” Sofie said, a furtive wrinkle creasing her brow. “What are the boxes for again?”

She motioned to the canvas with one gloved fist. There, etched in strips of blue tape on the mat, were two small boxes, roughly four feet by four feet and spaced three feet apart from each other in center ring. 

Ryan rolled his eyes and shook his head derisively. “This is so stupid, why are you even up here? You’re just going to get hurt. Women can’t box!” His chauvinistic comment brought about a rash of laughter from his male cronies, gathered around the outside of the ring. They looked on through the ropes, eager to see Ryan put a hurting on his beautiful young wife who had the misguided audacity to get in the ring with him. The women in the crowd shared their excitement, though they hoped for an opposite outcome — however implausible it may seem given the disparity between the hulking frame of Ryan, a former college boxing champion, and his petite wife.

It had started as a simple argument. The two newlyweds had invited a small group of their friends over for a housewarming party and, after an hour or two of the usual mingling, Sofie’s friend Marcia had called up a clip on her phone of an interesting boxing match she had seen. 

“You’ve got to see this, Sof,” Marcia said, gleefully corralling Sofie and the other women to gather around her phone. “This girl *absolutely* kicks this guy’s ass.”

Eager to see such an outcome, the ladies looked on with wide eyes as Marcia pressed play. On the screen, they saw a woman and a man squared up against one another in a boxing ring. The man was a good head taller than his opponent, with broad shoulders and rippling muscles. The woman, meanwhile, was svelte and toned, but against her towering adversary, she seemed to have little chance in the fight. She was dressed in high-cut bikini bottoms and a sports bra while the man wore only a tight pair of white briefs that left little to the imagination. Hardly regulation attire for either gender.

Both fighters stood face to face, gloves raised as a striking young woman in a tight striped referee shirt occupied the space between them. The combatants were both stood in small boxes, just wider than their shoulders, which faced one another in the center of the ring. Additionally, each fighter had an elastic band stretched around both of their ankles, limiting their movement.

“They kinda look like you and Ryan,” Jen, another of Sof’s friends, said with a quick smile. Sof laughed but couldn’t draw her eyes from the screen. *They* do *look like us*, she thought, almost quivering in anticipation of what was to come.

A bell rang out in the video and the match was underway. As soon as the bell sounded, the man swung a mighty hook at his female opponent. Quick as a cat, the girl ducked the blow, tensed her legs like a taut coil, then launched a respondent uppercut right beneath her opponent’s chin. 

“Oh!”Sof and the other girls gasped in unison. 

“Told ya,” Marcia purred slyly.

“One,” the female referee called out in the video, raising a single finger on her right hand, seemingly signaling a point for the female boxer. The male fighter, meanwhile, stumbled backwards, off-kilter from both the girl’s stunning blow and also the band around his ankles. Staggering, his left foot stepped outside the box. Immediately, the ref blew her whistle and, without wasting a moment, the female boxer shifted her stance and lanced a viper-quick jab into the man’s face, blasting his eye and rocking his head back.

The group of watching viewers gasped again, though now they were openly giggling excitedly. 

“Two,” called out the referee, raising another finger on the female boxer’s side. The man was grumbling, protesting he had been hit unfairly as he regained his place in his box. The referee, however, brushed off his concerns and stated, “You stepped outside your box. She was entitled to another blow. As you’ve done so again, it is still Alicia’s turn.”

"Wow, she really is kicking his ass," Jen said, turning to Marcia with a flushed, wild-eyed expression.

"Just wait," Marcia responded with a knowing grin. "It gets even better." 

The women let out a collective, giddy cheer and turned back to the video. At this point, having heard the women laughing and applauding together, the men at the party came over to join them.

"What are you girls chattering about over here?" Ryan inquired, acting, as he always did, as the mouthpiece for the group. 

Marcia paused the video with a quick press of her finger and looked up to greet Sofie's athletic beau. "Just watching some girl power in action," she told him.

Ryan scoffed, as did the rest of the men. "Oh yeah? Cooking videos, then?” He sniggered, ignoring the look of disgust on his wife and the other women’s faces. Roughly, he pushed his way into their circle and gazed upon the image on Marcia’s phone screen. “What the hell is this?” Ryan asked with a dismissive snort. 

“Just a little boxing match,” Sof answered. Her heart was beating fast in her chest. She desperately wanted to keep watching the video, to witness the female boxer triumphing over her male opponent. It had awakened something within her and now that her domineering husband was standing beside her, she wanted *him* to see it, too. 

“Is this a joke or something?” asked Ryan, incredulous. “She’s going to get killed.”

“She was winning, actually,” responded Jen, also eager to keep watching the match.

“Easily,” Marcia added, flashing a wicked grin toward Sof and Ryan. 

“Bullshit,” Ryan scoffed. “Women can’t box.”

“Well, let’s just keep watching, then,” answered Marcia before tapping the Play button on the screen and resuming the video.

On the screen, the male boxer was grumbling as he regained his standing within his box. He brought up his muscle-laden arms before his face as his lithe female opponent smiled and brought up her own gloves. Leaning left, she feinted with a lazy right hook that drew the man’s guard. Shifting as he took the bait, the woman lashed out with another left jab which slipped the male fighter’s raised fists and caught him, once more, in the eye. There was a loud *smack* as glove tattooed flesh. 

The crowd of gathered viewers collectively drew in a sharp breath, surprised by the sudden, brutal blow from the female boxer. Marcia, smiling, turned to Ryan and raised an eyebrow cheekily. 

“Lucky shot,” he grumbled, though, from his experience of years of boxing competitively, the female fighter’s power had surprised him. Still, there was no way a woman could beat a man at boxing, he knew. 

“Three,” called out the ref, raising three fingers. Despite the strong strike, the male fighter managed to keep his footing within his box. “Darryl’s strike,” the ref said, signaling the man’s turn. 

Woozily, the male boxer shook his head and rubbed at his injured eye. His female opponent simply stared him down, her own fists raised in a fighter’s stance. Roaring, he slammed his gloves together, squared up and threw yet another massive hook at her fragile frame. Instead of ducking his swing, as she had the last time, the female boxer instead braced herself and blocked the blow with her forearm. The male fighter looked as surprised as the men watching on through the screen. Following up immediately, the female boxer shoved away the man’s gloved fist, pivoted and then drove yet another devastating uppercut into the man’s chin.

It connected with a *crack* which straightened the male boxer into an upright position, sending his feet well outside his box as he tried to balance himself, the band connecting his ankles stretched taut. 

The referee, noting the man’s feet straying outside the boundaries of his box, blew a shrill note on her whistle, signaling another free blow for the female fighter — who took full advantage. While her opponent was stunned upright, with his legs spread wide and his eyes toward the ceiling, the ferocious female boxer dropped nearly to her knees, bringing her own eyes level with the man’s groin, and, with one fluid, graceful movement, brought her fist swiftly upward from the canvas to blast into the man’s unprotected testicles. 

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” the watching crowd all said at once, in unison. 

The male boxer in the video squeaked loudly as the blow struck home. His opponent’s glove buried itself deeply between his legs, colliding with the soft, yielding mound there — prominently outlined in his tight briefs — with a hearty *thud*. In a brief break of decorum, even the ref winced at the blow, bending over her own groin slightly at the waist, unaware as to the specifics of what must certainly be an intense pain, but sympathetic none-the-less for the male fighter's crushed nuts.

“Five,” she managed to say, her voice uneven and cracking. She raised five fingers.

The male boxer, meanwhile, snapped his knees shut and curled around his groin as he sunk slowly to the mat and then fell forward onto his face to kiss the canvas. 

“Wow!” Jen gasped breathlessly. “She cracked his nuts!” All the women laughed and clapped, enthralled by the female boxer’s dominance of her male opponent.

The men exchanged uneasy glances. Even Ryan had a queasy look on his face. The woman’s punch had been perfectly placed and delivered expertly. He felt a phantom ache between his own legs as he replayed the uppercut in his mind, the female fighter’s heavy glove smashing the man’s spandex-clad package with extreme force.

“Well?” Marcia inquired. Her eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as she turned her attention from the phone screen to Ryan. “Still think women can’t box?”