Female Boxing Federation
Established: 2021-01-15
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FBF Is the Federation for all the females who like boxing
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270 stories
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Starring
Jean Fitz (deleted member)
“LADIES & GENTLEMEN, A BIG TEXAS SIZE WELCOME TO THE EL DIABLO BAR & FIGHT CLUB’S TOUGH GAL MMA COMPETITION, WHERE TONIGHT TWO WARRIOR PRINCESSES FROM OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE WORLD WILL BATTLE FOR THE PRIZE OF $5,000 – AND THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE WINNER AND ONE LOSER TONIGHT!”
15:32 Jean_Fitz: “FIRST TO STEP INTO THE CAGE TONIGHT, SHE’S OUR VERY OWN TEXAS FIGHTER, A TOUGH-AS-NAILS BOXER TURNED MIXED MARTIAL ARTIST, FIGHTING OUT OF SAN ANTONIO!” “STANDING 5 FEET 8 INCHES TALL AND WEIGHING IN AT 140 POUNDS OF PURE TEXAS GRIT. SHE’S KNOWN FOR HER HEART, HER IRON CHIN, AND HER WILL TO NEVER BACK DOWN!” “WITH AN MMA RECORD OF 0 WINS AND 1 LOSS, SHE’S BACK TONIGHT TO PROVE THAT THE LONE STAR STILL SHINES BRIGHT, GIVE IT UP FOR THE TEXAS STORM... JEEEANNN FITZ!”
15:32 Jean_Fitz: I stand in the open cage door as my name echoes through the speakers: “Texas Storm Jean Fitz!” The crowd roars, beer bottles clinking, boots stomping against the metal floor. I’m wearing my red sports bra, green briefs, white 4-ounce MMA gloves, and a white mouthguard that gleams under the harsh lights. Barefoot on cold concrete, my skin hums with adrenaline. My blonde hair is cropped short, my jaw tight, and my eyes locked on the cage ahead.
15:34 Jean_Fitz: I raise my arms high over my head, flexing my biceps for the crowd, a signal that I’m ready to fight, that I’m not here to play nice. The noise hits like a wave, a mix of cheers and wild shouts, and I let it fuel me. I step through the door, slow and steady, under the lights of El Diablo, there’s no going back now, soon it will be just me, and some Chinese woman in the cage, and the fight that’s about to decide everything.
:“AND NOW, HER OPPONENT, HAILING FROM THE FAR EAST…. THE PRIDE OF CHINA, THE WARRIOR THEY CALL ‘THE HUMBLE HAMMER!’” “SHE STANDS 5 FEET 11 INCHES TALL, WEIGHING IN AT 166 POUNDS OF PURE, DISCIPLINED POWER, A RECORD OF 12 WINS AND 1 LOSS!” “A MASTER OF KICKBOXING, KARATE, AND BRAZILIAN JIU-JITSU, SHE’S KNOWN FOR HER RELENTLESS PRESSURE, LIGHTNING-FAST STRIKES, AND HER UNMISTAKABLE HUMILITY OUTSIDE THE CAGE!” “FIGHTING TONIGHT FOR HONOR, FOR HER NAME, AND FOR EVERY TOUGH GIRL WHO EVER FOUGHT TO SURVIVE, GIVE IT UP FOR THE HUMBLE HAMMER… WANG!” yt
17:10 Humble_Wang: I approached the cage draped in a black robe, wearing flip-flops. As the spotlight focused on me, I spread my arms wide, letting the robe slide off and revealing my full, powerful muscles from head to toe. I wore black MMA gloves, and a black mouthguard shifted restlessly between my teeth. I showed no excessive excitement — I knew I wasn't here for the prize money. What truly mattered to me was how much it would hurt my opponent when she tapped out. I kicked off my flip-flops. Though the ground wasn't as clean as in official arenas, I still began to feel the coolness and feedback through the soles of my feet. Step by step, I entered the octagon, dressed in a blue sports bra and tight shorts. Gripping the chain-link fence, I sank into a deep squat, stretching my legs, warming up my muscles, and loosening my ligaments — all with my back turned to you.
17:32 Jean_Fitz: I watch with interest as my opponent, with clearly dyed blonde hair, enters the cage. She has her back to me as she does her stretches, but I don't care. The ref calls us to the cage centre and gives us his instructions, and allows for us to face each other up close. I stare into Wangs eyes, and then as the ref finishes, I offer her a tap and then back away from her, until I reach the cage wall. I begin to bounce on the balls of my feet as I wait for the bell, and for the fight to start.
17:37 Humble_Wang: When the referee called us together and gave some instructions, I touched gloves with the girl in front of me—a signal that the last friendly exchange had ended until the fight was over. I returned to my corner and assumed my stance. Ding! As the bell rang, my feet began to bounce, and I moved toward the center of the ring with gradually increasing pressure. Striker or wrestler? I needed to figure you out quickly. I fired off a swift left-right hook combination aimed at your cheeks, then deliberately threw a slow left leg kick toward your right calf—testing how you'd react to grappling techniques.
17:45 Jean_Fitz: The bell rings, and I move out quickly, bobbing erratically from side to side, and we close the distance quickly. You throw out a quick left and right hook combo at my cheeks, and its easy enough to block each punch with my forearms, and then throw a left leg towards my right calf, sneaky as you know I'm concentrated upstairs. Your shin pounds into my calf, but I inly wobble for a second, and regain my stance, and then lunge forward, trying to punch a left jab between your guard, trying to bust you in the nose, then throw a quick low round house kick at the side of your left knee, hoping to disrupt your stance.
17:55 Humble_Wang: You seem particularly adept at defending against strikes. You deftly blocked my punches, yet when faced with my low kick, you chose to absorb the impact with sheer muscle rather than attempting to take me down—giving me a firsthand sense of your toughness. You stepped forward sharply behind a jab. I slipped to the right while parrying your fist leftward, keeping my nose safely out of range. Thud! Your low kick crashed into my knee, forcing me to stagger rightward. But this was all part of my plan. I raised my left leg and let myself drop toward the right, knowing my right hip could maintain control and grip even on the ground. Now I'm crouched-seated on the canvas, seemingly compromised by your kick—observing whether you'll rush in to press me against the mat.
18:01 Jean_Fitz: I feel my right foot collide with the side of your knee, and fuck, it drops this China doll to the canvass....maybe I really damaged the knee, but if that's the case, I'm gonna have a big advantage in standup boxing and kickboxing, so why should I dive down for grappling on the canvass with this bitch? I stay standing and begin circling you, my gloves up and ready. As I can move a little faster on my feet, I give a quick little kick at your knee and pull my right leg back fast..."Why don't you get up China? if you can....and show me how you box?"
18:07 Humble_Wang: Your words are dripping with provocation. You're being cautious, or perhaps you genuinely believe I'm this vulnerable. I can't let my competitiveness reveal my advantages and make you wary. So when you quickly throw another low kick at my knee, I don't evade. Honestly, it packs quite a punch—my knee is now red and swollen, but I don't care. "Hah... still far from enough. But I think I'll take a little rest first before dealing with you..." I retort in a breathless tone, continuously using my hips to adjust the distance between us. I won't recklessly stand up—that might leave me open to a follow-up punch from you. Swiftly using my back and hips, I shift my angle until finally, I wrap my shin and instep around your left ankle. I can't let you move freely anymore. From this position, unless you willingly lower your stance to the ground, your fists can't reach me. If you attempt to kick, I'll undoubtedly twist you to the mat the moment you lift your leg.
18:13 Jean_Fitz: You move quickly wrapping your shin and instep around my left ankle, and then I begin to feel trapped. I step back with my free leg and then violently yank my trapped left leg forward, with great force, hoping to free it, and brace myself for flying backwards as it comes unstuck. Sweat begins to glisten on my body as I struggle.
01:42 Humble_Wang: I had hoped that after limiting your movement, you would immediately engage in a clinch with me, but you kept using brute force to try to break free. This forced me to adjust my strategy. As you desperately pulled your foot back, I swiftly closed the distance, compressing the space between us. Capitalizing on your momentum pulling you backward, I quickly rose to my feet. First, a spinning back fist aimed at your cheekbone. Then, using the rotation, I continued forward—a left hook crashing into your jaw, swiftly followed by a right straight and another left hook. My hips and heels pivoted rhythmically on the canvas, the smooth cadence keeping my breathing even. I watched beads of sweat flying off you from the impact of my hammer-like strikes. "You wanted this, didn't you... princess?" I once again bypassed your left guard with my iron arm, driving a hook into your cheek, then targeted your protruding lips with an uppercut. "I love your white mouthguard—why don't you spit it out?! Hyah!" I was already prepared for you to stagger back.
07:10 Jean_Fitz: I’m trying to wrench my leg free and taunt you further, “Get up you China pussy! Get up and get your boxing lesson from a real Texas gal! I’m gonna whoop” uggggg......but suddenly you use the pull from my leg for your own benefit, to bring yourself to standing fasting than I could imagine, and when you release my leg, my backwards momentum pull leaves me stumbling, unbalanced, forcing me to regain my balance rather than guard up. My world narrows to impact and noise. The spinning back fist catches me like a freight train, cheekbone stings, my head snaps backward, and for a beat the lights go wrong. The combo of following punches only takes a couple of seconds, but it feels like everything moves in slow motion. Before I can really get oriented, your dukes up are and cocked like pistols ready and primed to fire.
07:11 Jean_Fitz: The left hook lands clean, then the right, then another left. I can feel my feet trying to find purchase on the canvas and failing. Sweat explodes off me with every strike; the taste of metal is at the back of my throat. She says princess. I taste blood and a smile that’s half-grimace curls on my face. That mouthguard stays put. If anything, it keeps me biting down on what’s left of my pride. My knees wobble, then the next hook whips across my face and the uppercut slaps my lips, my mouth guard protrudes, and my lips pull it back in, but saliva slides out of my mouth and down my chin.
07:12 Jean_Fitz: Half the crowd are Chinese, come from all over the state, wanting to watch their gal fight, and many of the whites, blacks and Hispanics have come to route for Wang because of given them tickets as a deputy or bullied them in high school, so there is a thunderous “HAMMER WANG… HAMMER WANG, …..HAMMER WANG” from the crowd. But my hands don’t drop, instead I get my gloved fists up in a peek-a-boo style stance to guard my bruised face, after Wang’s magnificent display of boxing skill that shifted the fight momentum in a few seconds.
07:13 Jean_Fitz: Being a tough Texas gal, I try to stop the barrage with a left jab at Wang’s lips, and hoping it creates a distraction, I fire off a right straight towards Wang’s solar plexus, twisting my arm into a cork screw to increase the power and maybe take away and maybe regain control over the Chinese she-devil. I’m dizzy and bruised, but ready to keep fighting.
07:21 Jean_Fitz: "Don’t blink, sugar- I've just started to fight" as I keep my gloves raised, ignoring the chanting crowd.
COMMENTATOR FOR VIDEO RECODING (ringside, shouting over the noise): “Holy Shit! Wang’s combination lands flush! Spinning backfist…left hook…right straight….another left hook….hook to the cheek…and uppercut to the lips!!!! she’s unloading on Jean Fitz! The Lone Star Storm’s eating heavy leather here at El Diablo!” “Jean’s still on her feet somehow, look at that chin! She’s rocked, she’s bleeding, but she’s not backing up. Fitz’s knees are buckling, she’s breathing through fire, yet she’s pulling those gloves right back to her face in that old-school peek-a-boo guard!” “You can see it, pure grit holding her up right now. Most fighters would’ve folded under that barrage, but Jean Fitz is refusing to fall! The crowd’s losing it, half chanting for Wang, half just stunned that the Texas cop is still in this fight!” “There’s blood on her lip, her eyes are glassy, but she’s still talking to herself, staring right back at Wang! Fitz is punching back with a jab/right straight combo at the face and body!” yt
01:16 Humble_Wang: You are tough; even after I landed so many solid punches, you're still staggering but keeping your balance. You charge at me. In the exchange, I feel something like metallic leather tearing through my lips. The salty taste of blood spreads in my mouth. Then, a sharp blow digs into my solar plexus. I bend over, stumbling back a few steps, my breathing clearly affected—but the will to fight still burns in me. My center of gravity is low now, yet I’m actively steadying my breath. I anticipate your reckless forward rush. With both hands pressed against the floor, I launch into a forward roll, arching my legs upward and driving my heel toward your temple—a rolling axe kick aimed to intercept your advance.
08:33 Jean_Fitz: My head feels like it’s wrapped in thunder. Every breath rasps in my throat, shallow and burning. I’ve taken too many clean shots to the face, and my balance is all over the place. Still, I plant my feet and move in again, fists up, vision pulsing at the edges, gaining confidence after popping you with a jab to the face, and the shot to the solar plexus drops you. You drop low, hands to the ground, a strange motion that my dazed mind barely registers before your’re rolling forward. I twist my body to avoid the blur of your legs, but the heel still clips the side of my head, just enough to whip me around. The world tilts; the sky and grass trade places. My body spins with the force and I hit the wire mesh face-first, metal scraping across my cheek and the taste of rust mixing with the blood already in my mouth. For a heartbeat I just hang there, breath ragged, half crouched, trying to blink the stars from my eyes, my bruised face pressing into the mesh, giving me a view of the crowd shouting. I hold on to the mesh with my fingers, keeping my balance.
13:54 Humble_Wang: My roll sent me tumbling to the ground. As I turned to observe your movement, I saw you facing the cage, hands gripping the fence to steady yourself. I staggered to my feet, hoping to buy myself more time—before you could regain your defensive awareness. I rushed quickly behind you, running as I drove my knee into your back, pinning you firmly against the cage. With my left hand, I threw downward hammer fists, aiming to punish you while you struggled to defend. “Hey! Stay sharp, or go to sleep now, target! Taste this!” I taunted you relentlessly, my words sharp as my left fist repeatedly punished your cheek and cheekbone. My right arm was already halfway slid into position—I could tell it wouldn’t be long before you’d be spitting out your mouthguard.
14:04 Jean_Fitz: I expected you to try some kind of grappling move, but instead, you move quickly, slamming your knee into my back, very painfully, and pinning me firmly into the cage wall....I cry out from the knee striking my back.....with my back to you, you throw down hammer fists to the side of my face with your left, so I slid my left hand up under your elbow, pushing your left arm out so the punches loose their angle, but your right arm slides sides over my right shoulder, and I know you are going for a rear naked choke.....I tuck my chin in, and try to drive my right elbow back towards your ribs....hoping to avoid the choke, but you have me pinned into the cage wall, face first...
14:16 Humble_Wang: We're both seasoned fighters, and we know exactly what this move means. You fight back desperately, using your left arm to knock my fist away while driving your right elbow backward into my ribs, hoping the pain will force me out of this rear-naked choke position. But to me, compared to breaking a couple of ribs, ending the fight here is far more appealing. Even if my time might be running short—fifteen seconds left—I have to try. As your right elbow smashes into my ribs again, I instantly release my right arm, pulling your right arm up and locking it high against my torso. Then, I switch my choking arm, swiftly sliding my left forearm into your throat while leaning back. My heels dig madly into your groin area, trying to limit your movement. I glance at the timer—seven or eight seconds left, I can’t see clearly. Even if this isn’t a perfect rear-naked choke, I squeeze my left arm with every ounce of strength against your throat, simultaneously leveraging to pin your right arm in a raised, immobilized position.
14:21 Humble_Wang: 
14:37 Jean_Fitz: My elbow hits your ribs, but you are a fighting machine and ignore the pain. You move my right arm up and out of the way, and the switch the choking arm to your left, and begin squeezing my carotids tight, real tight. My gum shield pops out and saliva dribbles down my chin, and then you leap up to wrap your powerful legs around my body, forcing both of us backwards to fall on the mats. I feel your heels dig hard into my pussy between my legs, trapping me. My eyes bulge from the pressure on my neck, i can't breathe as you use your right arm to complete the choke. My carotids shut down, and so does my brain, my sweaty body goes limp as i pass out, and my body convulses from lack of oxygen.
14:45 Humble_Wang: "Yes, let's end it here." As I feel the pulse in your neck growing weaker against my forearm, I know it's only a matter of time. Your mouthguard protrudes awkwardly, dangling precariously from your lips. I don't release the choke—even though the outcome is certain, I won't stop until the referee physically intervenes. "Remember how you taunted me, girl? Now I'm not even sure if you can still hear me. Honestly, I had so many finishing techniques prepared for you, but it seems you won't get to see any of them. Well, it'll be over soon. I'm considering whether to step on your mouth or nose during the celebration. I'd appreciate it if you'd kindly tap my arm now." I keep taunting you, aiming to shatter your last remnants of resistance. The calloused heel of my foot grinds persistently into your groin—in a fight like this, no one pays attention to such details, but you feel it acutely. That area is dense with nerves, and I know you'll soon lose control of your body. As my arms lock tighter, converging into an unyielding vise, I feel your saliva dripping uncontrollably. Yet still, I refuse to let go.
14:52 Jean_Fitz: Wang keeps the choke on me, and grinds her heels painfully into my labia, something i don't feel, but will feel it later, assuming the choke does not cause brain damage or death. It's an underground venue, and the ref is not so attentive. The crowd is barking HAMMER WANG!!!!....The ref watches now, and sees my body starting to convulse, so he taps your arm "OK, better let her go sport. She's done"
14:58 Humble_Wang: I release my arms without excessive celebration, yet keep you restrained within my grasp. I gesture for the camera to move closer. As it focuses on us, I teasingly lean close to your lips, pluck out your mouthguard with my teeth—leaving trails of your saliva—and seductively spit it aside. Then I remove my own mouthguard, stained with sweat and blood, and spit it directly onto your face. Gripping your still-unconscious jaw, I tilt your head toward the lens and declare my absolute dominance to the world. Thats all you need to pay for your taunt.
15:22 Jean_Fitz: The choke is released, and blood starts to pump through my brain, and gradually I begin to the land of the living. Wang had kept the choke on, and I was only seconds away from death, but I’m tough and will survive this better than what happens next. First a feel a dull ache in my groin, but don’t remember Wang hitting a low blow to me, but shit, who the fuck knows? My kidney aches from the knee strike to my back, and my face is brutal, with bruises darkening, and my neck aches from the choke, but the worst of it, is that I open my eyes, my vision unfocused, and Wang’s China face is in my face, her hand roughly holding my jaw, as warm saliva and blood spray over my face, the camera recording it all. It takes me two more minutes to be revived, so that I can stand for the official announcement, as the ref raises Wang’s gloved hand. She beat me fair and square. But this ain't over, I hold grudges, and me and this China doll will someday be in the same cage again.
“Texas Storm Silenced — For Now”
By Shelby “Knuckles” Ruiz, Senior Fight Correspondent
Saturday night at El Diablo was one for the books — and for the bruises.
The crowd packed into the metal-walled fight cage like a powder keg waiting for a spark. The $5,000 Tough Gal Prize had drawn local brawlers and out-of-towners alike, but none more talked about than Jean “Texas Storm” Fitz, San Antonio’s own, squaring off against Wang “The Humble Hammer”, a near-mythic name from the East Asian underground circuit with a 12–1 record and a reputation for breaking bones and egos.
The matchup looked lopsided from the start: 140 pounds of Texas heart versus 166 pounds of sculpted, disciplined fury, but Jean Fitz didn’t seem to care. She walked out barefoot, red sports bra and green shorts. Her eyes said what her record didn’t: She was ready to die on her feet.
The opening round was chaos in motion. Fitz came out swinging, hard, wild, fearless. She stuffed Wang’s hooks, landed a few jabs, and even buckled the Chinese powerhouse’s knee with a low kick that had the crowd on its feet. For a heartbeat, El Diablo shook with hope.
But the Humble Hammer adjusted, real fast. Using Fitz’s aggression against her, Wang baited a rush, spun through with a backfist that cracked like a rifle shot, then unloaded a brutal five-punch combo that left Fitz bleeding and dazed. Somehow, the Texas cop stayed standing, snarling through blood and sweat, jaw locked like a vise.
“Most fighters would’ve dropped after that backfist,” said ringside commentator Tito Mendez. “Jean’s got a head like an anvil and a heart twice as tough. But that Chinese girl, she’s got the killer instinct. You can’t teach that.”
The end came ugly. Wang’s rolling axe kick clipped Fitz’s temple, sending her face-first into the cage mesh. From there, the Hammer went full predator, knee in the kidney, hammerfists to the face, and a choke that nearly turned out the lights for good. The ref was late, as refs tend to be at El Diablo. By the time Wang released, Fitz was out cold, mouthguard on the floor, body twitching. The fight was over, but the rivalry was born.
Wang, ever the ice queen, barely celebrated. She leaned into the camera, spit her own blood onto Fitz’s face, and whispered something in Mandarin that translated roughly to: “Next time, bring skill — not just pride.”
Jean regained consciousness minutes later, wobbly but unbroken. “She got me fair,” she told Texas Underground Combat Weekly between ice packs. “But I’m not done. She’ll see me again and next time, she’ll remember my name.”
FIGHT STATS (Unofficial):
Winner: Wang “The Humble Hammer” (via rear-naked choke, Round 1, 4:58)
Loser: Jean “Texas Storm” Fitz
Significant Strikes Landed: Wang 34 / Fitz 12
Knockdowns: Wang (1), Fitz (0)
Damage Report: Fitz – swollen eye, neck contusion, possible rib strain; Wang – bruised knee, split lip.
Published: 2025-10-15, viewed 70 times.
Muscleboy Martin
2025-10-17 11:36Gotta work on your grappling Fitz!
TaraFantastic
2025-10-15 15:37An extraordinary, fantastic fight. Two brilliant, skilled, tough, muscular fighters. I had my bet on thicker set Texas Storm, but the immensely fast and ruthless Hammer took her down brutally. LOVED the images, thank you!
Jean Fitz (deleted member)
2025-10-15 15:40(In reply to this)
Thank you Tara, it's amazing praise coming from such a skilled fighter as yourself. Would love to challenge you sometime to a match style of your choice!
Xanthe The Amazon (deleted member)
2025-10-15 09:00Nice Marginal0 picture of the rear naked choke there. Like the other pics and animations
Jean Fitz (deleted member)
2025-10-15 09:14(In reply to this)
Thanks very much Xanthe, comments are much appreciated!