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Starring
<Valenzuela> I've arrived at a friends house for a boxing match in her back garden, where she has a ring. Nice setup! 
OK, maybe it's a little ramshackle, but who cares? It's an inform match between a gal named Penny, 24 yo, 5 ft 6 in, and 144 lbs, and myself, at 32 yo, 5 ft 3 in and 125 lbs. There will be a ref present to start and stop the fight, call for breaks, etc....and its 4 rounds of 2 minutes per round. I'm gonna wear my blue jean cutoffs, a black sports bra, red 8 oz gloves and a red headgear, as well as a mouthguard. Both of us will box barefoot today. 
. As for my opponent, I don't know much about her, only that she is fairly experienced, but we shall see.
OK, maybe it's a little ramshackle, but who cares? It's an inform match between a gal named Penny, 24 yo, 5 ft 6 in, and 144 lbs, and myself, at 32 yo, 5 ft 3 in and 125 lbs. There will be a ref present to start and stop the fight, call for breaks, etc....and its 4 rounds of 2 minutes per round. I'm gonna wear my blue jean cutoffs, a black sports bra, red 8 oz gloves and a red headgear, as well as a mouthguard. Both of us will box barefoot today. . As for my opponent, I don't know much about her, only that she is fairly experienced, but we shall see.<Valenzuela> As the event is about to start, I climb the steps to the ring apron, and then slide between the ropes, and move to stand in my corner, rolling my shoulders back and forth and then punching the air with a left jab and right cross.
<GlassJawBoxer> Val is an intimidating prospect for me. At 32 she's had over 70 fights, even if she has lost more than she's won. That makes my measly 10 kickboxing matches and 4 boxing bouts seem a bit irrelevant. I've had the ring set up in my garden especially, borrowed from my usual training space in my friend's garage. My friend has kindly offered to referee the bout. I'm glad as this is my first in this world and it's nice to know that there is someone to stop the damage if I get overwhelmed.
<GlassJawBoxer> I welcome you in and bring you through to the garden. You quickly glove up and step into the ring. I'm dressed lightly in tight pink gym booty shorts and a matching pink minimalist sports bra. I slip on my black headguard, which like yours is open-faced without cheek pads. I half insert my sky blue mouthguard as I slot my gloved hands into my black 8oz fight gloves before holding my gumshield in the palm of my right glove as I follow you through the ropes and prepare to meet you in the centre of the ring.
<Valenzuela> Penny's friend now calls us to the ring centre to go over the rules, and she ends by saying "protect yourselves at all times, and now tap gloves if you wish to do so". So I stick out my gloves and then back away to my corner where I begin to bounce lightly on the balls of my feet and bob erratically from side to side, as I wait for the bell to sound and for the ref to motion us out.
<GlassJawBoxer> My bare feet pad into the centre of the ring to listen to the rules once more. We get in close, the padded brows of our headguards almost touching. Two-minute rounds, four rounds in total, if a fighter is knocked down three times in a round then their opponent wins by TKO. If there is no KO after four rounds, it will go to a decision, judged by the referee. Upon the reminder to 'protect yourselves' I feel my empty mouth and quickly shove in my mouthguard, seating the custom fitted plastic against my upper teeth. I tap my black gloves against your red ones and step back into my corner. The bell sounds *DING*.
<Valenzuela> The bell sounds, and I step out of my corner, slipping into a tight orthodox stance, left foot and glove leading, elbows tucked in, right glove hovering near my chin. I move forward with intent, as I want to press the action early, force you to respond. As I get closer, I begin to step off to my right, like I want to circle with you, but it’s a ruse, instead, I pivot sharply on my left foot, to move a step closer, and try to launce a jab at the centre of your face, trying to squeeze it between your guard, and then do the same with my right, launching a right cross towards your face to follow up. It’s intimidating boxing a bigger gal, and I wanna set the tone from the start….I’m in charge!
<Valenzuela> (R1 1:50)
<Valenzuela>
<GlassJawBoxer> Whatever reassurance I might have taken from my height and weight advantage quickly evaporates as you quickly cross the ring to me, your bare feet moving silently. The occasion has me flustered and I forget everything I know. My gloves are up but too far apart. I just about bat away your left, but the cross lands flush on my mouth - pushing me backwards. As I fall back towards my corner I throw a double jab, hoping to use my superior reach and take advantage of the fact you may have got overexcited in the initial rush forward. (R1 1:40)
<Valenzuela> I feel my cross punch into your mouth, and by your expression, it seems to startle you, as you respond defensively and retreat towards your corner. No way am I gonna let you get away from me, I want to push you all the way back to your corner and limit your movements. As you throw out a double jab, I'm quick to weave under the fist one, and then the second one too, letting them hit empty airspace over my head. As I start to come back up, I step forward, pushing myself close to you, being an infighter comes natural to me being so short, and I try to drive a right hook into your obliques, and then try to swing a left hook over your right shoulder, trying to target your jaw/side of head. I'm feeling charged up, and at this stage of the match, I've got the reflexes of a cat.
<Valenzuela> (R1 1:30)
<Valenzuela> 
<GlassJawBoxer> I quickly pull in my gloves from my missed jabs and put up a tight guard, tucking my elbows to protect my body. Your right hooked blow to my side partially lands and shoves me back against the padding of my corner. I gasp as I feel it, closer than expected and I jolt back into reality. My training comes back to me as I duck under the hook coming for my head. Using my strength advantage I clinch up and turn you, wrestling you around so that your back is to my corner and I have the clear space of the ring behind me now. I lay down a rapid 1-2-1-2-1-2 of jabs and crosses to put you on the back foot. (R1 1:20)
<Valenzuela> .
<Valenzuela> My right hook only clips your side, most of it is deflected by your arm. Then my left hook swings in the airspace over your head, and I feel unbalanced as my left overextends. My eyes light up, thinking I'm gonna work you over good in this corner now, but you use your greater body strength, your speed, and my unbalanced state to clinch up and twist me into the corner, in fact my back pounds into the corner padding, making this ring shake. Before my guard can be brought up....uggggg.....uggg....ugggg....your firing off rapid fire jabs and crosses into my face, snapping my head back, and pushing me deep into the padding, I blink my eyes to clear my vision as I bring my gloves up, and you slam my own gloves into my face with additional shots. I have to get out of this corner, so I try to swing a left hook out towards the side of your face, and follow this with a right cross at your chin, hoping to get in a shot between your punches. (R1 1:10)
<GlassJawBoxer> I have you exactly where I want you. My jabs and crosses land flush on your face, shoving you cruelly back. I can pop shots and observe you easily from my position. As you break guard to lash out a hook I dart back into the space behind me before ducking back in. I go low as your cross glances off the top of my headguard padding. I throw a single stiff jab towards your abdomen, hoping to break your guard and open up your head for more punishment (R1 1:00).
<Valenzuela> I KNOW that I'm in trouble as my hook swings out, and you step back to avoid it, making me look like I'm shadow boxing, and then my right cross only glances off your headgaurd padding. With my guard up, you go low and stab me in the gut, making me grunt and tighten my abs. I'm now feeling panic as I never thought you would have me backed into the corner, with your larger body blocking my exit. I now extend my left leg out towards you, trying to send a jab at your nose and then push off my trailing right leg to try a right hook at your jaw, breathing hard from the fight, and now glistening with sweat. (R1 0:50)
<GlassJawBoxer> The stab at your belly lands firmly but there's stuff coming my way too. Before I can take advantage my nose stings and goes numb for a second as your jab lands. Defensively I rush my gloves to my chin and absorb your hook, though the force still lands I shift back a little, giving you space to push out. I'm not afraid to trade though and I step INTO your advance, bringing our bodies close, both sweating now after 80 seconds of action. I try and hold up your right arm with my left as it returns from the hook and throw a short right uppercut at your chin before trying to step back out into ring space. (R1 0:40)
<Valenzuela> We are really mixing it up now, and this gal just does not intimidate. My jab comes out fast, and pushes over your guard, popping you in the nose, and for a second I see your eyes water from the sting. My right hook only slaps into your raised left glove, leather pounds leather, but you have such quick reflexes, pushing my right glove up and out, forcing it away from guard, and then nailing me in the chin! I am able to drop my chin as I see the punch coming in, but it's still a hard punch to the face that staggers me for a moment. You step back, sparing me a further beating, but also eliminating a possible counter punch that might have come your way. I reset my guard, and then move forward, again trying to intimidate you, with a quick 1-2 at your face, expecting you might block them, but my real intent is to throw a quick left uppercut at your solar plexus when my left comes back to guard. (R1 0:30)
<Valenzuela> 
<GlassJawBoxer> That right upper cut strikes you hard in the face, thank goodness for your mouthguard! You take it well though and we both try and catch our breath as the space opens up a bit. Your 1-2 lands but at the full reach of your arms so it does not have much power and I stay on the outside where I am most comfortable. I throw a low left shot to your body... but it's a feint. I drag it back into guard as I step inside again to throw my real punch, a powerful right hook - hopefully fast enough that your chin can't make a move this time (R1 0:20).
<Valenzuela> My arms fully extend for the jab/cross combo, and I know I'm just touching your face, useless. I keep stepping towards you, then suddenly a left is thrown out, so I drop my right to block, but then I realise a fraction too late that I've been succored, a fast right hook whips out, going over my left shoulder, and SLAMS into my chin, twisting my face to my right, spit flying in all directions, and suddenly my knees buckle from under me. You caught me flush, and my body twists around, and I land on the canvass on my side, breathing hard. (R1 0:10)
<Valenzuela> 
<GlassJawBoxer> My right hook lands firmly on your jaw. I turn my body into the punch to get maximum impact into the strike. I rush into to follow up with short power punches but you aren't there anymore. I can hardly believe my eyes as I see you fall down, pretty much in my corner area. I give a bright blue plastic smile as the ref shoves me to a neutral corner and bends over you to start the count. "1.... 2...."
<Valenzuela> I feel a little dizzy and definitely humiliated at this turn of events, getting knocked off my feet and used as a mop for the canvass! I'm breathing hard, and my body is soaked with sweat, and I wait for the ref to reach the count of 7, then get to my feet, slowly, beating the 10 count. The ref looks over my gloves, and asks me if I want to fight, I nod yes, and then waves us together....but DING!!!!!
<GlassJawBoxer> 
<GlassJawBoxer> As I expected you start to rise, though my smile shows no sign of disappearing as the count steadily increases. Part of me even hopes this might be it but with some effort you just about make it up and have your gloves wiped by the referee. I'm primed to dash in and take advantage to finish the fight off but just as the ref says "Box!" there is the horribly timed *DING DING*. I stop my charge and drop my gloves as I walk past you to my corner. I've stayed on my feet but I'm still tired as I spit my mouthguard into the palm of my right glove and hang my arms over the ropes in my corner. I face you as I suck in air, trying to gauge how you might start the next round. I'm pleased with the start but it's only the first round so there's much more to do.
<Valenzuela> 
DING! Thank god for that fucking bell. Literally it saved my ass from a beatdown. I stumble back toward my corner, chest heaving, mouth dry, sweat dripping into my eyes. My chin aches from that wicked hook, and my shoulder aches from hitting the canvass after the knockdown. That hook nearly turned my lights out! I fucking hate that. You’re staring at me from across the ring, so I avert my eyes, sure, make it look like I feel humiliated….humiliated yes, humbled, NO! There’s a big difference. I underestimated you, thought I had you in the early seconds of the round, when you looked like a dear caught in the headlights of a freight train. But you fight smart, keeps your distance, hits sharp and fast, you don’t stand there to trade punches, you try to ick me apart with carefully timed strikes. You’re a head hunter, which is evident from a little bruising on my cheek and eye from you landing clean shots. And you got enough power to drop me when I get sloppy. Okay. Think. She likes her space. I gave her too much of it once she turned me into the corner. Gotta close that gap, I need to turn this into a brawl and rough her up, work that body hard. After taking more water and wiping my face with a towel, I stick in my mouth guard and get to my feet, ready to try to turn the fight into my advantage. DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (R2 2:00)
DING! Thank god for that fucking bell. Literally it saved my ass from a beatdown. I stumble back toward my corner, chest heaving, mouth dry, sweat dripping into my eyes. My chin aches from that wicked hook, and my shoulder aches from hitting the canvass after the knockdown. That hook nearly turned my lights out! I fucking hate that. You’re staring at me from across the ring, so I avert my eyes, sure, make it look like I feel humiliated….humiliated yes, humbled, NO! There’s a big difference. I underestimated you, thought I had you in the early seconds of the round, when you looked like a dear caught in the headlights of a freight train. But you fight smart, keeps your distance, hits sharp and fast, you don’t stand there to trade punches, you try to ick me apart with carefully timed strikes. You’re a head hunter, which is evident from a little bruising on my cheek and eye from you landing clean shots. And you got enough power to drop me when I get sloppy. Okay. Think. She likes her space. I gave her too much of it once she turned me into the corner. Gotta close that gap, I need to turn this into a brawl and rough her up, work that body hard. After taking more water and wiping my face with a towel, I stick in my mouth guard and get to my feet, ready to try to turn the fight into my advantage. DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (R2 2:00)<GlassJawBoxer> Shoving my gumshield back into place I cross the ring quickly, trying to herd you back into a corner. I won that first round comfortably I reckon, so the tactics clearly work - even if you have now adjusted a bit. I meet you about two-thirds of the way across the ring. Stepping in a touch with my left foot I keep the range throwing a stiff double jab, aiming to continue to exploit the bruising and swelling on the left side of your face around the cheek and eye. You would expect a right to follow but instead I throw a long looping left hand, hoping to land in behind your guard. (R2 1:50)
<Valenzuela> It’s on again. The bell cracks the air, and you explode out of your corner like a fucking rocket. You’re already eating up two-thirds of the ring before I’ve taken a full breath, and I realize if I don’t move now, I’m gonna get caged in my own corner like a rookie. That would be humiliation. I remember how you danced around me in the first round, how I chased shadows while you racked up points and capped it off with that sharp knockdown at the end. Not this round. I tighten into a modified orthodox stance, raise my right glove higher this time, peering over the tops, watching you like a hawk. You test me right away, snapping out a double jab to my face, crisp and fast. I feel the thump of leather on leather as my guard holds tight. I grit my teeth, bracing, expecting your right to follow, and I’m ready for it. I bend my knees, dip low, stepping into your space like I’m diving into a storm. But you surprise me, another left. Lucky for me, I’m already gone, your glove just thuds harmlessly off the padding on top of my headgear. Still low, I rip a right hook towards your lower floating ribs, aiming for those soft spots under your elbow, then I rise, driving a left straight towards your solar plexus, hoping to knock the wind out of you. I may not have your speed or your reach. But I’ve got grit—and I’m gonna use it to bait you into giving me some targets. I stay in the zone, wanting to turn this into a brawl rather than a dance. (R2 1:40)
<GlassJawBoxer> *THUMP THUMP* My jabs land heavily against your guard, not landing flush but still passing on some impact into your head I hope. My looping left hand sails over your headguard as you get low. I can see now that you have not been cowed by the knockdown, if anything it has motivated you. *UGH* I bend over and step back as my lower abs are nailed by a low hook which smashes in around the waistline of my booty shorts, making me conscious that I'm not wearing a groin protector. We're now back in the centre of the ring and I throw my gloves and forearms together in a peekaboo guard which firmly blocks the glove sailing towards my chest. So you want to trade and brawl huh? Fine. I may use my reach advantage but I'm strong too and still have long levers to throw powerful short punches. With your left arm still extended I lean to my left and throw a hard left uppercut at short range, setting up for a hard cross punch which I let fly as my left glove returns to guard. (R2 1:30)
<Valenzuela> My right hook lands nicely, and I know that one surprised and hurt you. But as my left strikes out, hitting your guard, Jesus........UGHH! That left uppercut snaps my head back, punching into my chin, as I barely saw it coming, still having problems dealing with your speed. . You baited me, let me come in with those body shots, made me think I was dictating the pace… and then bam, that punch shoots straight up through my guard like a piston. My teeth clack hard behind my mouthguard, and for a second, my legs feel loose, but I don’t go down. Then CRACK! The right cross slams into the side of my face, my bad side, the one already swelling from the first round. I feel it, the burning of leather over my cheek, my eye. My vision on that side blurs a little, goes watery. I grunt through gritted teeth and stumble a step back but I don’t retreat. Not fully. You want to keep this boxing clinic going, with your long arms, sharp punches, pick me apart like I’m some slow, old thing. 32 ain't that old sugar!. I clench my jaw, blink through the haze, and dig in my heels. My left eye’s throbbing, yeah, but I’ve got my wits about me. I crowd your space again, not charging recklessly, but close enough, so I lower my stance slightly and launch a left shovel hook towards your midsection, aiming just above the waistband, and try to swing a big right hook over your left shoulder, wanting to see if that jaw is made of glass. (R2 1:20)
<GlassJawBoxer> Sweat and spit flies as both of my strikes land with impact, some of your fluids landing on my face. I already know that I have the power in my punches to knock you down so I'm surprised you stay on your feet. I'm fair impressed too. Not bad. But the hits affect you, with your left eye's swelling only getting bigger - I wonder if it will bleed too. The wobble in your legs and the aqua blue of your mouthguard are clear to see as you stumble and grit your teeth. You keep coming but are clearly weakened. For a second time your hook to my abdomen lands cleanly but I stay braced up in order to continue the trade. My upright stance means I see the right hook coming for my chin. Throwing two hooks in a row has left you open down the centre and I throw a short left to your chest on my way inside your guard, followed by launching a powerful right uppercut at your jaw, which has already taken quite a battering. (R2 1:10)
<Valenzuela> That damn right cross nearly turns out the lights, but I stay on my feet by sheer spite. I don’t care how blurry my left eye is, I’m not backing down. I crowd in again, shove that shovel hook into your gut, feel that, chica and try to follow with a right, but I know I’m open. Too open. Sure enough, I see your left fist streak down the middle, thumping into my chest and making me suck in air between clenched teeth. But it’s the uppercut that’s the real threat, I see it loading. You want to end the fight. I suddenly lunge forward, jamming the uppercut into my chest, snuffing it out, never getting close to my jaw. But I’m in now. I press my forehead against your collarbone, crowding, making it messy. My fists come out, left, right, left, short hook shots to your ribs, trying to hammer the air right out of you. (R2 1:00)
<GlassJawBoxer> With my KO opportunity missed you're inside my guard and hammering away. *UMPH UMPH UMPH* as breath after breath is knocked out of me by the short machine gun of punches to my stomach. I have no choice but to clinch up, pushing our sweaty bodies together as we grapple for advantage. I put my left arm over your right, and my right arm under your left. I'm trying to take control of your arms and land short blows to the side of your head and body. My size and strength come to the fore again as I shove you towards the ropes. Thankfully the referee comes to my aid and calls for us to break apart and restart. "Box!" goes the call and I return to using long jabs and crosses to herd you back towards a corner. (R2 0:50)
<Valenzuela> FUCK! you clinch. I feel your arms lock mine up, our sweat-slicked bodies crashing together, breathing heavy, chests heaving. My punches stop short, smothered by your grip, and I feel your strength, bigger frame, longer reach, trying to turn this into a wrestling match. Your left folds over my right, and your right snakes under my left, tying me up tight. You start throwing those sneaky little shots, tapping at my ribs, my temple, trying to score while holding me still. I grunt, squirm, try to wrench free, but then oooooof you shove me backwards with brute force, and I feel the ropes dig into my back. Then the ref's voice, “Break!” saves me from a beating on the ropes. I step back with a snarl, roll my shoulders, shake out my arms, sweat dripping from my chinstrap. “Box!” You’re already on the move, snapping out jabs again, trying to put me in the corner. I tighten up my guard, tuck my chin, and start to slip and bob my way in again, head full of fire, lungs burning, I weave low, and then shoot a left/right straight combo towards your belly button as I lunge forward. (R2 0:40)
<GlassJawBoxer> Your snarl, showing off your aqua mouthguard, would be intimidating if it wasn't so attractive. I see that you're struggling, breathing heavily and dripping profusely with sweat. My more youthful fitness means I have a better control of my breath, not to mention my belly is only reddened compared to your puffed up face. Your lunge comes as no surprise, you need to get inside to make an impact on me. With plenty of ring space behind me I simply dart back from the punches. Your head is low and you have lots of momentum going forwards. I keep my right arm and glove in a tight guard whilst throwing out my left for a low jab aimed at your ducked brow, the power of the strike should add to the force of your own momentum heading towards my fist. I then aim to use my extended left to keep you at range whilst my powerful right cross aimed at the heavy face bruising bullies you back into the ropes. (R2 0:30).
<Valenzuela> My straights fall short as you quickly step back out of range. You time it right, that jab smacks down against my brow, and between your precision and my own momentum, it feels like I ran straight into a brick. My neck snaps back slightly, and I grunt, stumbling just enough to lose the rhythm of my attack. Then comes your right cross, smashing into the same side of my face that's already a warzone. I see stars for a flash, my vision on that side blooming with stars. I stagger back a few steps, almost tripping over my own heels as my shoulders graze the ropes. My lungs burn, and sweat’s dripping into my eyes. You're trying to bully me now with clean boxing and that smug control of yours. I guard up quick, going to a peak-a-boo mode on the ropes, hurting from your head hunting. (R2 0:20).
<Valenzuela> 
<GlassJawBoxer> Back where I want you! I can see how uncomfortable you are, especially as a trickle of blood flows from your bruised cheek and you trip back, caught by the ropes and bounce back a little. Your tight peak-a-boo stance doesn't stop me from laying into your padded temples and not so padded lower stomach with powerful hooks around the guard. I keep snapping my gloves back into guard myself to repel any sneak attacks from your coverup game. Now it is my turn to throw rapid punches, this time from a much safer range than your up-close automatic fire of earlier in the round. I bite down hard on my mouthguard and grunt with the exertion of it all as my sweat flows all over me. Surely I can get another knockdown out of you... (R2 0:10)
<Valenzuela> I’m trapped on the ropes, turtled up tight, and you don’t hesitate for a second. My peek-a-boo guard is up, but you don’t give a damn. You unload.......BAM BAM BAM...a savage flurry hammering into my padded headgear, snapping my skull back, rocking me deeper into the ropes. I can’t breathe, can’t move without giving you a target, and the ref just watches, his eyes fixed like he’s waiting for me to drop. I want to fire back, God, I want to, but there’s no window. No space. Any punch I throw means lowering my shield, and you’re just waiting to punish that. Then it happens, one of your hooks whips around my guard, slamming into the side of my face. CRACK! My vision flashes. My head twists violently, and my knees give out beneath me like a busted scaffold. I crash to the canvass, my hands blindly reaching out, desperate, wrapping around your waist not to hold you, but to stay to keep from crashing. (0:0)
<GlassJawBoxer> There it is, down you go. Not quite all the way though. My punches had indirectly nailed you around your guard and you gave nothing in return. You fell to your knees before the end of the round so the referee, who should have given you a standing count 10 seconds ago, starts the count now. They need to make sure you are fit to continue even just before the break. I'm pushed away from you and to a neutral corner, though I must admit I like having you down hugging my legs. Your panting head was tight against my pelvis, so your blood and sweat has left a small stain on my shorts. Have I done enough to stop this going into a third round? I smile again as I watch the count proceed. "1... 2..." (R2 0:00)
<Valenzuela> Everything’s spinning. I'm on my knees as you back away, I can't believe another knockdown....yes...dropping someone to their knees counts as a knockdown.... The lights above blur into white smears, and my knees are on the damn canvas, and I hate it, I hate that you put me here. My chin’s screaming, my left cheek’s on fire, and I can already taste the copper of blood trickling behind my mouthguard. But I’m not staying down. The ref’s voice cuts through the haze—“One!… Two!...” I suck air through my mouth. You’re in the corner now, probably grinning again, cocky as hell, like you already see your arm raised. And maybe you earned it this round, fine. But the fight ain’t over. I press a glove to the mat, then the other. Push. My arms tremble. My legs scream. But I rise. Three… Four… I'm up. I stumble a bit, but I stand. And slowly walk to my corner. The ref looks me over, but I want to go into round 3. Battered and bruised, not broken. I'm slowly onto my feet, and get my gloves up, ready for the bell.
<GlassJawBoxer> Halfway through the fight and wow, you're on your way back up! I can't quite believe it. Any feelings of victory are cut off, for now at least. *DING DING* You just about scramble to your feet and the ref allows you to go to your corner. In a proper match surely the fight would have been waved off there. The minute break passes slowly as I want to cut your recovery as short as possible. *DING* I rise with intensity as you rise sluggishly. I palm in my gumshield and bang my gloves together *BAP BAP*. You still look terrible and exhausted as I take advantage of your slow movements to cover most of the ring space. I need to be careful though, you're clearly one tough cookie and it isn't over yet. My jabs and crosses get to work, attempting to pin you down once more. (R3 1:50) YT.
<Valenzuela> My left eye’s swollen, bruised, puffy, stinging every time I blink. Blood drips from my nose into my mouthguard, and my ribs especially the right side, burn with every breath. My chin’s pulsing from that last hook, and yeah... I’ve hit the canvas twice. I got fucking mauled at the end of round 2, but I’m on my feet. Barely. Shaky, bloodied, aching all over, but not done. It ain’t over. I get o my feet, and then DING! The bell rings. I come out slow, flat-footed, nothing fancy left in me. I need a knockout. You cross the ring quick, this time you begin to send jabs and crosses at me, back me towards my own corner, each punch smacking into my raised guard. I try to time your punches, and then I jab at your face, trying to draw your guard inward, then swing a wild right hook at your jaw. No finesse, no game plan, just pure desperation. Let’s slug it out gringa!!!!!!!.
<GlassJawBoxer> To anyone watching this fight can't seem fair. A decent referee would have waved you off during the break. But here we are... You look delicious, all that blood, and sweat, and spit dripping off you. With a knockdown in each round I must have won each round 10-8, so only a knockout will win you the match, if it goes all the way a draw is your best hope. My ranged punches don't land clean but there's still a power to them and as I pad at your guard you're moving backwards into a shrinking space. Your jab is thrown from too far out and doesn't bother me, you're desperate now. Your flat feet and exhausted body have robbed you of agility so your right hook is slow and heavily telegraphed. I step back and the red glove sailed harmlessly in front of my face and I feel an opportunity as you almost turn your self round following through on the strike. You're almost side-on to me as I unload a quick 1-2-1 towards the right side of your head and a right hook flies to your solar plexus. I tell myself "stay outside, pick her off, put her down". (R3 1:30)
<Valenzuela> You’re picking me apart at a distance, and I can see it in your expression, like the ref just forgot to make it official. My feet are bricks and my gloves feel like they’re filled with lead, not padding. That 1-2-1 peppers my right side, and I feel the crowd’s flinch every time my head snaps from the contact. The hook to my solar plexus steals my breath again, and I almost double. My body screams for rest, but I throw myself into you, not a punch, not yet, just raw forward pressure. I try to crash chest-to-chest with you, smothering the distance. I’ll grind you in a clinch, lean my weight on you like dead weight, breathing hard into your neck. If I get you in the clinch, then I twist, digging a left into your side from up close, then bump off with my right shoulder and try to whip a short right uppercut under your chin. (R3 1:20)
<GlassJawBoxer> You are exhausted and it shows. You do nothing to stop my planned attack, the peppering of your face even seems to loosen your mouthguard before the chest punch brings it half hanging out of your lips. We semi clinch after you crash into me but I can't tell if you're attacking or if I'm holding you up. Your left punch to my side barely causes a gasp and the uppercut is slow enough to be a push rather than a punch. I look at the ref but they seem to have no interest in stopping this bout. I shove you off me once more but you're still on your feet somehow. I send a 1-2-1-2 low down to drag what's left of your guard to your stomach. You don't seem to pose much threat now as I then switch back onto your face. Jabs and crosses become hooks and uppercuts, and now you're getting punches all over your abs, chest, breasts, face, head and jaw... (R3 1:10)
<Valenzuela> The fight has taken it’s toll on me….it’s never easy fighting a heavier, taller woman, who is also younger and skilled as well. I’ve got a trick left though, try to clinch, dig her with a short left hook, twist my right shoulder into her, and go for a short uppercut to her chin. Can I pull this off? I’m pretty beat up and tired, slick with sweat, but I gotta try, I can’t go toe to toe with her, not at a distance where you have to shuffle and move fast. I go for it, but my punches are weak, too weak to stop you. I get roughly shoved away from you, my back crashing into the corner turnbuckle padding. My reflexes are shot, so I don’t even see the first punch, just feel it. A jab snaps my head back and suddenly I can’t tell if my mouthguard’s still in or halfway down my throat. My lips part, drool mixing with copper-tasting blood as the second shot crashes into my cheekbone. It sounds like a wet slap inside my headgear and all I can think is don't fall. But the punches are coming too fast…. But the third punch lands low…UGGH!.....right into my untensed abs, dragging my arms down in a reflex I don’t even control. The air flies from my lungs, my knees dip, but I stay upright. You keep throwing, and I can’t stop you. I’m a punching bag now, swaying, twitching. A fourth shot nails my sternum, and I feel my breasts thud beneath my sports bra as pain radiates into my ribs. My head droops, and that’s when your fifth punch, an uppercut, spikes my chin and sends my vision reeling, everything white like a flashbang went off behind my eyes. The ref suddenly shots “STOP!” “She’s had enough!”, but it’s too late, monstrous right hook, detonates against the side of my jaw. CRACK. My mouth guard flips out, dancing over the canvass, as my knees buckle, my gloves are down at my sides as my eyes roll up, and then my knees first crash into the canvass, and my body falls face first into the canvass. I twitch a moment, but my lights have been thoroughly punched out.
<Valenzuela> The ref does not bother counting....she just waves her hands over me....She was gonna call a TKO, but instead it's now a KO.
<GlassJawBoxer> Left-right-left-right-left-right... *THUD THUD THUD THUD* My punches land unchallenged across your face and chest. I land a hard right uppercut and see your eyes go blank. I pause and wait for you to drop, but... what if you get up again... for a third time. I follow up with my biggest punch of the night, a right hook to your bloody jaw which lands just as the ref calls "stop!". You pay for the ref's reluctance to step in and crash to the canvas hard, rather than being waved off and walked back to your corner still conscious. As the hook connects, sweat, spit and blood fly, much of it landing on me and you crumple down. Knees slam, the body, then padded head. The last of these causes your mouthguard to plop out, the aqua blue plastic covered in blood from your nose and cheek. You don't move. The ref waves and calls "knockout!". Relieved and stimulated I breath heavily and raise my gloves in glee. The referee pulls me to stand over you before raising my right glove. "The winner by knockout, wearing pink, after one minute of round three... is Penny!". My debut match and I'm a winner!!! I give a big blue plastic grin and place my bare foot on the skin between your sports bra and shorts. I raise my fists again before the ref comes over and forces me off so you can recover. I swoop up your aqua gumshield on my way past - a trophy for my efforts!
<GlassJawBoxer> No longer a cyber virgin, my record stands at 1-0. I'm certain there will be a rematch some day. I await your return to consciousness in my corner, staying in my full sparring gear as you slowly come to.
Local Newspaper Headline
PENNY STUNS VETERAN VALENZUELA WITH THIRD-ROUND KO IN BACKYARD SHOWDOWN
Backyard Brawl Ends in Spectacular Debut Win for 24-Year-Old Fighter
April 3, 2025 – Somewhere Suburban
In what began as a friendly backyard spar turned full-contact spectacle, 24-year-old Penny, known online as GlassJawBoxer, shocked seasoned veteran Valenzuela with a commanding performance, securing a third-round knockout in a brutal but impressive debut showing.
The match, hosted in Penny’s back garden in a makeshift ring, was set for four rounds at two minutes each. Despite the casual setting, the fight was anything but soft. With a referee officiating and both boxers donning headgear and 8 oz gloves, the intensity escalated quickly—and blood was drawn early.
From the opening bell, Valenzuela, 32, with 45 boxing, 13 MMA and 10 Muay thai fights under her belt, looked to impose her experience, pushing forward with aggressive intent. But Penny weathered the early charge, tightened her defense, and began to exploit her reach advantage with sharp jabs and clinical counters.
Late in Round 1, Penny turned the tide, cornering Val and landing a punishing right hook that dropped the veteran to the canvas for the first knockdown of the match.
Round 1 Score: 10-8 Penny
In Round 2, Penny’s dominance only grew. Val showed heart, trading body shots and refusing to back down, but Penny’s combinations landed with precision and power. Late in the round, Penny broke through Val’s peek-a-boo guard with a looping hook that sent her to her knees again. The referee issued a count as the round expired.
Round 2 Score: 10-8 Penny
By Round 3, Val’s left eye was nearly swollen shut, her ribs visibly bruised, and her movements sluggish. Still, she gamely tried to close the distance and clinch. But Penny kept her at range, picking her apart with crisp punches. A vicious six-punch combination—ending with a thunderous right hook to the jaw—sent Val crashing face-first into the canvas, her mouthguard flying. The referee waved off the count, signaling a KO.
Round 3: KO – No Scorecard Needed
Final result: Penny wins by knockout at 1:00 of Round 3
Despite Valenzuela’s grit and veteran presence, the story of the fight was Penny’s calm, calculated dismantling of her opponent. With jabs that disrupted rhythm and combinations that punished any lapse, Penny’s technique and power belied her lack of in-ring experience. Penny quickly snatches the veteran boxer's mouth guard for a trophy, and poses triumphantly over her fallen opponent, glove raised over her head, foot on Val's chest.
“I wasn’t expecting a KO, but I saw the openings and went for them,” Penny said after the fight, still in full gear, blue mouthguard flashing as she smiled. “Val’s tough as hell. I have nothing but respect.”
Valenzuela, now 0-1 in their budding rivalry, recovered shortly after and reportedly asked for a rematch.
For now, the backyard debut belongs to Penny—who exits the ring 1-0 and with one hell of a statement win.
<Published> 2025-04-04, viewed 112 times.
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