“That’s right, a pregnant girl just whipped your bitch ass.”

From the science fiction adventure, Hard as Roxx, Chapter 25

Trint stood face-to-face with Buzz, the backs of their right hands touching. He had six inches on her, but he was not as tall as Roxx. This, she felt, put her at an advantage. Trint, after all their years together, had inherited her spouse’s odd way of sizing up a situation. The two combatants stood there for a few seconds with the blonde smirking down at her. He began to push against her hand, testing her strength, perhaps her resolve. She pushed back and saw a hint – just of trace – of surprise. She was stronger than she looked. Considering that from the side, she looked like a capital letter “B” with legs, being stronger than she looked didn’t take much doing.

Buzz smiled harder and nodded. “Well, hit me,” he said, looking at her hand.

Trint’s demeanor was even. “When there is an opportunity, I do not hit. It hits all by itself.” Then she punched him squarely in the nose.

He hadn’t moved yet.

That’s Master Lee, bitch.

He shook his head, and this time surprise took full control of his face. Anger hung above like a cloud. Trint resumed the same position as before. Buzz hesitated, looking as if he were trying to decide whether to continue the “fair fight” regime.

“Best two out of three?” she asked, smiling.

The blonde snarled and returned his hand. Trint punched him twice: once with the right and once with the left, which had been at her side. He almost managed to raise his defense at the second strike.

“Oopsy,” she said. “Oh-for-three. You lose.”

She stepped back, just as Buzz swung at her torso. She’d anticipated that once he discovered she was not an easy out, he would either get serious, and they’d have a real sparring match, or he would aim directly for her weakest spot – her baby.

He chose dream number two.

It was a mistake, as his downward swing sent him off balance, just enough for Trint to swing over him and shatter his nose. The sound of the breaking cartilage excited her, and she began to dance on her toes, her tongue sticking out.

I do not stick it out. It sticks out all by itself. Trint began to laugh.

Buzz cursed, holding his nose, and then charged, sending Trint retreating. He swung furiously, right-left-right, left kick. She blocked the first three, but he managed to land a straight kick to her upper thigh. It sent her to the floor of the plane, with her holding onto her belly. Seeing his opportunity, he kicked again. Trint leaned to her left, ducking under the kick, and trapping his remaining leg between her feet. She twisted her body on the floor, sending him sailing onto some seats.

Unfortunately, being pregnant, she could not stand up as quickly as she had done in her sparring matches with Roxx. By the time she’d resumed her feet, he was standing and met her jaw with a strong right cross. It sent her reeling. He charged again, lifting a knee toward her belly. She just managed to torque her baby out of the way, but his knee met the side of her ribcage. It sent her, groaning, into one of the aisle seats.

It also pissed her off.

He was grinning now, walking slowly, coming in for the kill. It gave her time to stand. She was aching, from likely broken ribs and a swelling jaw. Buzz approached, his hands before his face, boxing style. He swung, and Trint bounced backward, again on her toes. She began to dance: left foot, then right, and left again. She found a bit of space, standing in front of the emergency exit. Her right hand was curled into a ball in front of her face. Her left was holding her comically large belly.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she said, “Mommy’s going to kick his ass right now.”

Buzz laughed, and attacked, his long leg striding toward her.

Trint met his right shin with a straight, downward kick. He yowled in pain and pulled his leg back. Trint wiped her nose with her right thumb and continued bouncing. Her full breasts and belly were jouncing in harmony with her steps. Buzz stepped toward her again, and she hopped backward, lifting her lead knee. It was enough to stop him in his tracks. She resumed bouncing, and then kicked him once more in the shin. She stepped back and he charged again. Trint kicked him in the right knee. Again, he grimaced and stepped back. The blonde began bouncing with her, dancing awkwardly, trying to time her rhythm. Trint feigned a kick to his right leg, and he pulled it back, simultaneously swinging with a left hook. She bent low, ducking under his swing, and jammed the heel of both hands into his left knee. There was another satisfying crack.

Buzz fell in a heap, groaning and holding his knee. Trint stepped back, catching her breath. Slowly, he regained his stance, limping noticeably. She resumed bouncing, but changed the rhythm of her dance. She was careful to lift each foot just enough that he feared another kick to the legs.

Yeah, bitch, keep watching my feet.

She feigned a step, and for a moment, he froze, trying to guess which foot would kick him. She, instead, swung at his face, but he countered, punching her in the chest and the jaw. She fell backward, but not before bringing up one knee, fully, into his groin. Buzz fell to his knees, precisely as Trint landed on her bottom, clutching her chest.

“You hit me in the fucking boob! Do you know how much a pregnant girl’s breasts hurt?”

The blonde did not answer, except to groan and stagger to his feet, holding onto his bruised scrotum with one hand. Still, he charged, his pride as bruised as his … parts, swinging furiously at Trint, who was sitting on her bottom, blocking his thrusts with both hands before her face. He stepped forward, driving his knee toward Trint’s nose. She swerved neatly out of the way and drove an uppercut into his balls. He fell over backward, screaming, holding his testicles. No crack this time, but his pants showed a growing, dark red stain.

Game over, blondie.

Trint crawled over to him, her gaze meeting his eyes. There was no more fight there. In fact, he looked pitiful. He winced, but did not remove his hands from his crotch. “Don’t worry, I won’t hit you again,” she said, regaining her feet. She did not. Instead, she stomped down on his nuts as hard as she could. He shrieked, emitting a sound that men should not be able to make.

“That was for punching me in the tits, you ugly son of a bitch.” She stepped over his head, meaning to sit, as he was unconscious, and she was hurting and exhausted. She sank into a seat near the cockpit door.

“That’s right,” she said, barely bothering to look back at him. “A pregnant girl just whipped your bitch ass.” Trint stroked her belly, calming her kicking baby. Her bout may have been over, but her daughter was still fighting up a storm.

Must take after me. That’s some temper you got.

Trint began humming to her daughter. It had always soothed her in the past. When that did not work, she began to sing: “Hush, little baby, don’t give me sass, Mommy had to beat the bad man’s ass.” The baby stopped kicking. Trint was not surprised. By now, the fact that her daughter’s movements flowed with her emotional tides had become commonplace. She resumed rubbing, feeling a small heel push against the inside of her belly. “Roxxy isn’t here to take care of us, so Mommy had to do all the hard work alone. No kisses for her tonight, huh?”

Trint reached over to the adjacent seat and placed her attacker’s discarded pistol in her lap. She pushed herself off the seat, struggling mightily to move. She hurt in most places one could hurt, plus a few others. She was grimacing, holding her belly.

Not now, baby, Mommy’s too busy.

“Hold it, you fat piece of shit,” called Buzz from the cabin’s rear.

Trint turned, and was surprised to see him standing, though bent over, holding the gun she discarded and his bleeding groin.

Give me a freaking break. Don’t you people ever die?

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