Edited by Michael-Leonard
The following story is the third in a trilogy. The first two stories were by a writer named American Boxer posted in 2005 and 2006 on another site, with the promise of a third story. I have searched for the final story but have never found it. In fact I haven't found anything by this author posted after the second story. I felt that the story line was very good and the characters were worth pursuing to the conclusion. Therefore, I'd like to write the final story as I would have liked it. My apology to the author, if this isn't where he wanted to take the story.
Chapter 1
A year ago, I entered a tough man contest run by the university. It was to take the format of boxing tournament, as opposed to a no-rules street-fighting sort of thing. I figured because I was a real good boxer that I had a pretty good chance of winning. That was before I met Lisa.
She stood six feet two and weighed two hundred and five pounds. She was a large girl, well muscled and nicely curved. As for me, I'm Bob; I'm five-eight and weighed one hundred and sixty five pounds. I'm in real good shape and well-muscled, but next to her I looked like a runt. Worse still, my weight put me in the heavier of the two classes, along with Lisa.
I remember when I entered the tournament, those running it didn't want a girl to compete. I argued that if she wanted to compete she should be allowed to. That was before I saw her. They even tried to dissuade her from competing by insisting that she wear the same type clothes that the male fighters wore; shorts and shoes with no shirt.
I'll save you the gruesome details, but basically she destroyed me in a little over a minute and a half. I came out of the fight with a broken nose, two black eyes and assorted bruises over my entire upper body. Lisa, on the other hand, hardly broke a sweat; the only blood on her was mine. Two days later she fought a guy in the semi finals; he lasted about thirty seconds. He made the mistake of looking at her tits instead of at her fists.
The finals were held a few days later. It was a classic case of a puncher taking out a boxer. Lisa was actually behind on points after the first round. Her opponent was six feet four and faster than she was. Although he didn't possess a knockout punch, he hit her repeatedly with sharp jabs that bloodied her nose and blackened her eye. But eventually she cornered him and rendered him helpless with several brutal body shots, and knocked him out halfway through the second round.
Of her four fights, the one with me was the second longest. She was big, extremely strong and brutal; almost sadistic. She essentially seemed to not just want to win; she wanted to destroy her opponent. She took particular joy in breaking each fighter's nose. We all walked around campus with our noses bandaged and wore sunglasses to hide the bruising we had suffered.
Inexplicably, I looked forward to fighting her again; I guess I'm more of a masochist than I thought.
Chapter 2
Going into the second semester of my senior year, I found myself short three credits in the natural sciences for fulfilling my requirements for graduation. Looking over the classes available, I found a geology course that sounded interesting and would not require a lot of work other than actual class time. When classes resumed after the break, I took a seat in the back of the room. I was just sitting there daydreaming waiting for the instructor, when a husky female voice asked,
"Is this seat taken?"
I looked up and recognized Lisa immediately. She's very hard to forget.
"Oh, I know you; I fought you last year in the tournament. How are you doing?"
"Fine, " I said. I stuck out my hand and said my name: "Bob, Bob Wilson. Congratulations on winning the tournament, Champ."
She took my hand shook it with a firm grip and said,
"Thanks, Thanks a lot. Listen I'm really sorry for busting you up like that but I was on a mission of sorts; no hard feelings."
"No hard feelings. I always say, if you can't stand the heat don't go in the kitchen."
Just then the instructor came in and class began. Just as I thought, there would be a midterm and a final; one textbook and -- if you came to class, paid attention, took good notes -- you'd pass the course with no problem.
As class ended, Lisa stood and asked me if I had time to join her for a cup of coffee. It sounded good to me so we walked across the campus to a small coffee shop and ordered a cup. I noticed while we were walking that every one we passed gave us plenty of room. It seemed that Lisa was well known and feared on campus.
Over coffee I got to know this blonde Amazon better. She seemed cheerful, funny, smart and -- above all -- sexy as hell. We had been talking for about an hour, when she looked down at her watch.
"Shit, I have a class in fifteen minutes. It was really nice to finally meet you. Call me," and she wrote her number on my book and ran out of the shop.
'I certainly would', I thought.
In fact, I called her the next day and asked if she wanted to go to out to dinner.
"I have a better idea, why don't you come over to my place and I'll make you dinner; how's 7:00 on Friday?"
"Can I bring a bottle of wine?"
"That would be nice; make it Chianti, we'll be having lasagna."
She gave me the address; a two family house, not far from the campus.
On Friday, I walked over to her place. On the way my mind wandered back to the tournament; how brutal she was, how totally dominant.
'Be careful, I thought. Be on your best behavior, this is one woman you don't want to piss off. '
I got to the house right at 7:00, rang the bell and stepped back. A tall, lean redhead answered the door, "I remember you. You gave Lisa a pretty good fight last year; come on in. Lisa's in her room changing."
I looked at her for a moment; then I remembered: "You were Lisa's second as I recall, and you're being too kind about the fight; she destroyed me as I remember it."
"Yes, but she destroyed everyone last year. She remembered the fight against you; she said you actually hurt her with a couple of your punches. She said if you hadn't gotten careless the fight might have gone differently. By the way, I'm Karen."
"Bob."
Just then, I heard Lisa come into the room, I turned and my heart skipped a beat. There she stood, all six feet two of her, dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, the traditional dress of college students. But she took it to all new levels. The shirt was straining to contain her ample breasts and her massive biceps.
"Jeez Lisa, what are you trying to do, give the poor guy a heart attack? I'll be back on Monday, Lisa. Nice seeing you again, Bob. Have fun, you two. " With that she laughed and ran out the door.
"Your roommate?"
"My sister. I tell you all about her later. Come on into the kitchen, you can help with the salad and the bread."
I followed her into the kitchen, marveling at her body. Even in her bare feet, she was almost six inches taller than me. She had to outweigh me by forty pounds, and that was all muscle. The shirt was stretched to its limit across her back and her jeans hung low on her shapely hips accenting her ass as she walked.
'Down boy; take it easy, I thought. Only if you're invited can you come out and play.'
As instructed, I cut up the lettuce, a cucumber, some celery, and added in some cherry tomatoes. I poured some Italian dressing over the salad and tossed gently. I put the bowl in the fridge and sliced some of the Italian bread, placing it in a basket. Meanwhile Lisa was finishing up the lasagna. She put it in the oven, set the timer, and set the table. I grabbed the bottle of wine, opening it to let it breathe.
"Why don't you pour us each a glass of wine, and we'll move into the living room."
I grabbed the glasses and sat on the sofa, placing the glasses on coasters on the coffee table. Lisa joined me, put her feet up on the table, and began to tell me about her sister and the tournament.
"Karen already knows that I'm going to tell you about her; she's OK with it. Karen is my big sister. I have always adored and looked up to her. She was pretty, intelligent and had a bubbly personality. Three years ago she was a senior here. On Friday night, during the rush weekend for the fraternities, she was coming back here after an evening of studying at the library. As she walked along fraternity row, she spotted a couple of classmates who invited her in for a beer. She went in, had a beer, and talked with some of the guys. The house was really packed with students from the campus and other frat brothers."
"Sometime during the party, the guys who had invited her in lost track of her; they figured she had had enough and left. Late the next morning they found her in a 'no-tell motel', naked. The police figured that she had been raped by three different guys. They found cum in her pussy, all over her face and tits and up her ass. Worst of all, she couldn't even tell us who she was with, what they looked like or anything. She had been given some sort of date rape drug, and remembered nothing from the time she left the library to the time a maid found her tied over the back of a chair. The police tried everything; they even had her hypnotized. I was there for that; it was the most disturbing thing I ever watched. To see your sister acting out the scene of her rape; on her knees on the bed, legs spread wide, as if she was straddling one guy; holding her ass cheeks open for a second, and her head thrown back her mouth wide open. They figured that the three guys all had her at the same time. When the doctor woke her up she had no memory of the incident at all. It took two years of therapy to bring her back to her former self. She knows what happened to her and has accepted it. She hasn't had a relationship with a man since before it happened. I've taken it upon myself to be her protector and her avenger. If she ever does remember who did it to her, the cops better get to them before I do."
I could see the anger bubbling up from within; her fists were clenched, her knuckles turning white.
"That's why I entered the tournament last year. In my mind, if the rapists were students here, there was a chance that they might still be students and maybe one of them entered the tournament as well. That was why I not only wanted to win it; I wanted to punish each guy I faced. I projected the face of her unknown rapists onto my opponents. That's why I broke each guy's nose, why I held them up as much as possible and continued to beat them even though they were already out cold. After the tournament I was given an album with pictures from all the fights. I was horrified at what I had done to these guys, they didn't deserve that; you didn't deserve that."
I could see the tears welling up in her eyes; I moved over and held her until she calmed down.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"
