Author's Note

Ron Jeremy Pony: Ladies and Gentlemen, it has come to my attention, after coming back to this story, that the tone shift from Third, to First, and I have found that shift to be disorienting. For that reason the remainder of the story will be told in third. In addition, There will be a rewrite done, after the story has finished, which will have all of it available in Third Person. Thank you, and please enjoy.

14 Preparation, Part Two

As Ye Sew, So Shall Ye Rip

Preparation Part 2

Russia - Moscow - Russia Boxing Federation - Main Gym (former host building to 1980 Olympics)

Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin looked at the floored sparring partner that was provided to him. The man lay in a pool of blood, his eyes swollen shut, his jaw hanging at an unnatural angle, and his breathing heavily labored. Grigori spat at him, walked forward and leaned on the ropes.

“Где вы находите этих бесполезных людей?” he asked.

His trainer looked at him and shook his head, “Распутин, английский,” he replied, “And he is not peasant,” he said pointing to the downed man, “He was one of former best heavyweight fighters in world.”

Grigori looked at him, “If he is one of best, then winning against the new champion should be easy,” he replied.

His trainer shook his head, “I said one of best, not best. Current champion is best fighter in world, at least in WBF,” he said, “It would be foolish to not take fight seriously.”

Grigori stood. His entire seven foot tall frame was packed with muscle. He looked less like a boxer and more like a contender for the Mr. Universe competition. Perhaps if his personality wasn’t so volatile he could have competed, but as it was his entire life led toward conflict and confrontation. He was destined to fight, and in his own mind he was predetermined to win. He was not one that let his naming fall into misfortune. Yes, the most well known Grigori Rasputin had been the advisor that led the Tsar into ruin, and led to the creation of the Soviet Union.

However, he had been turning that around. Now the name Grigori Rasputin was associated with one of the best fighters in all of Russia. A fighter that specialized in traditional New York rules boxing. He could use other disciplines, if he chose to do so, but often he would fight as a boxer, often destroying a man’s career in the process. Behind his trainer a helpmate neared him.

Like in most of the world the Helpmates were well known in Russia. The one here was Grigori’s own personal Helpmate, and his medical professional. She was unique in that unlike many Helpmates she was a special design. She was a Hippogryph, a halfbreed between a unicorn and a gryphon. Her owl head remained focused on him as she neared him. In her right claw was a vial. The trainer shook his head, but she paid him no attention.

“Григорий, ты готов к величию?” she asked.

“English!” the trainer shouted.

She swirled her head toward him, looking almost like it could have easily broken her neck, but instead she seemed fine.

“Tell me, Alexei, have you ever wondered what it would be like to have your eyes plucked out by wild birds?”

He glared at her, “No, and I have never once wondered what it would be like to fuck one either, but here we are.”

Her feathers bristled at his remark, her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking upset. Instead she turned back toward Grigori, “This is our insurance, a special blend of growth hormone that will allow Grigori to reach levels of strength that are unobtainable to traditional training.”

Alexei shook his head, “Then we should do unorthodox training. We should go beyond what is here, and…”

She turned toward him, her claws gently holding Grigori’s arm, and injecting the hormone into him.

“And do what Alexei?” she asked, “Leave it simply up to nature?” she laughed, “While we are it why don’t we also allow helpmates to engage in these matches as well?”

He glared at her, “Because doing so would be unfair.”

She narrowed her eyes at him again, “Unfair. Alexei,” she removed the needle from Grigori’s arm, “There is no fair. There is no good, no evil, there is only winning and failure. The reward for winning is getting our heart's desires, the punishment for failure is something we never need to see.”

Alexei shook his head, “It would be better to lose, in an honest match, than to win because an unfair advantage.”

Grigori looked at him, “Leave.”

He studied the tall raven headed Russian, “Grigori, I am here because you wanted the best trainer in all of Russia. You wanted someone who could make you into a living machine!”

Grigori nodded, “And you have done so, but now I need more, and you are not prepared to follow,” he replied, “So leave.”

Alexei looked at him, “I will not say that you are unable to do this. I know better, but consider your decisions here.”

Grigori studied him, “I have. I want to win, and you want to see a contest that is undecided. Leave.”

Alexei grabbed his coat, and walked toward the door, “Very well, then I shall leave you to your… friend.”

Grigori watched as Alexei walked from the room, through the door, and then out into the dark. He then looked at his helpmate. He touched her feathered cheek, causing her to softly coo before she neared him, “He did not understand,” she said.

He nodded, “He doesn’t understand. This is not about me, or him, it is about showing our nation’s might. It is proving that we are superior in all we do.”

She studied him, “Do you wish to continue speaking in English?”

He nodded, “Da, yes, we must. We will be expected to speak English once we have traveled to the United States.”

She nodded, and looked at him, “Then I suppose I shall have to double as not only your medical staff, but your trainer as well.”

He smiled at her, “That shall be fine, Anastasia,” he said, “We should work on my speed.”

She motioned toward the treadmills, and they left the body of the wounded sparring partner on the floor of the ring. As they neared the treadmill she grabbed a nearby tablet, tapped a few keys and soon it lit up with one of the numerous RBF employees.

“Da?”

“Мне нужно, чтобы вы взяли последний манекен и отправили еще одного,” she said.

The employee gave a soft nod, and soon his image disappeared from the tablet. She walked toward the treadmill and watched as Grigori began to run on it. He didn’t start at the lowest setting and go from there. Instead he started a mild run and soon upped it to where he was running as hard as possible to keep from being thrown off of it. She watched as he ran, admiring the movement in his muscles, the way he looked like an apex predator preparing to take down prey. It was attractive, desirable, and certainly something she found suitable in a mate. It was why she gave herself to him.

He was not her first owner. The others had… died mysteriously. Accidental poisonings, accidental electrocutions, automated cars running headlong into a parked truck. Every single one of these things had happened, and every single one of them had been deemed as a pure accident. There was never any proof that could possibly connect her to their deaths. There was no proof that her first owner, a vicious lesbian that took out fantasies of beating a helpless woman while raping her out on her hadn’t injested rat poison tablets instead of her intended ecstasy tablets.

There was no proof that her second owner, a sodomite by nature, hadn’t been listening to music on his classic 1997 CD player next to his tub, when he turned too quickly, and the audio plugs to his player caused it to drop into the water, electrocuting him. And of course the last owner before Grigori had suffered the worst accident of all. An update to her Autocar had erased the sensory data from directly in front of it. It caused the car to plow through two unfortunate families, and then plow directly into the back of a parked truck.

The car itself was an expensive model, but the company confirmed that if they were driven directly after an update these things could happen. It was odd that her update happened an hour before she was going somewhere, but they could only accept that she had changed the update so that she could enjoy the new benefits without worry about waiting until the following day to do so. She was slated to be removed, potentially sent to become a ward of the government, to be forced into a labor house until she could either purchase her own freedom, or until she died, but then she met Grigori.

He was like her. He was a predator, and he was dealing with prey. She was purchased, taken home, and she prepared for whatever perverted thing he could do, but it never came. He treated her with respect, asked her questions about her medical background, and she informed him that her original owner had wanted her to know advanced medical procedures. She had wanted someone who could perform emergency surgery if needed, and she wanted that person to be required to answer only to her.

He gave her more advanced books on medicine, informed her that he wanted her to take a test to prove that she could be a doctor, and then he bought her the right to become a doctor. She was his personal physician, nutritionist, and after six months of working with him to make him stronger, of watching Alexei train his body to perfection, she gave him all she had. He made love to her the same way he did everything. There was feeling things out, no gentle prodding, but instead he gave her all of his attention, he gave her the kind of rutting that was legendary, and in the end she finally gave him the only thing she had never given anyone.

She gave him her love. He was worthy, and she would ensure that he would continue to prove himself to be the best in the world. There would be no other that could dare stand against him, and those that did would find themselves broken. She would never leave him to stand alone. Instead she vowed to always be there to give him whatever edge she could. And together they would rule over this world he called his own with an iron fist.

She watched as he ran at full speed for five minutes, then ten, and then fifteen. She could see the sweat pouring from him, the way he was breathing was an indication that he was experiencing his threshold. She watched as he forced himself past it, and then she reached over to turn down the speed. Instead he grabbed her claw, stopping her. She looked up at him, and he shook his head as he ran. She understood, and watched as he continued to train himself. The growth hormone she had been injecting him with for the last month was already working. His muscle growth was a testament to that.

She had seen his muscle become thicker, tougher, and that's what she expected. She expected to see him climb to the threshold of excellence, and then surpass it. He continued running for another seven minutes and then he slowed, finally stopped, and stepped down. He was breathing heavily, but he wasn’t winded. She took his vitals and realized that his heart beat was accelerated, but not to the point of it being dangerous. His pulse was normal for someone that had just ran for twenty two minutes, and she determined that he was in perfect health.

“You are a perfect specimen,” she said, “Perfect in every possible way.”

He brought her closer to him, and she didn’t deny him. His hands found their way down her soft slate gray jacket, moving to the white shirt that was tucked into her skirt, and then under it. She cooed as he grasped her ass, squeezing it, and she felt the look of an apex predator on her. She gazed into his intense green eyes and submitted. Again there were no soft declarations of intent. There was the moment, and she gave into the passions of that moment. She found herself nude, her tail lifted out of the way, his wonderful tool buried inside of her.

She grunted and moaned with each thrust, she lived for the euphoric high, and it found her. She felt herself release onto him, and then he coated her womb with his seed. She knew they weren’t through, a single time wasn’t enough to sate his passions. Instead she was mated for the next half an hour, in various positions, and in different orpheuses until they had satisfied every carnal craving there was to be satisfied. When they were done the two of them lay together, and she felt a single gentle hug before he rose.

“I’m going to shower, send in another sparring partner. I wish to practice until I am certain there will be nothing left to chance.”

She stood, grabbing a tablet, her clothes, and followed him to the showers, She kept the sight of the camera on her face only and informed the supervisor over the hopefuls that there was the need for another sparring partner within the next fifteen minutes. She closed the feed on the tablet, placed it on a bench, and stepped into the shower with Grigori.

Thirty minutes later

Anastasia watched as the newest hopeful fell. It had been a remarkably short bout. The hopeful was a former heavyweight contender from North America. A well built human, although she could tell from his size and shape that his muscle was purely that of just diet and exercise. There were no enhancements on him. He didn’t have any artificial edge, and his boxing was also decent enough.

He seemed to favor London rules, which was a pity. The fight lasted a single round, and Grigori had managed to get him into the corner. Once there he began hammering on his head, his chest, and she could hear the sounds of his ribs breaking, she could see teeth knocked from his mouth once the guard was gone. Grigori didn’t allow him to fall until he had finished with him. She believed that what was left lying on the floor of the ring wouldn’t last through the night.

“Another,” he said.

“Grigori, you’ve beaten this one to the point of death,” she said.

“Another, he managed to hit my face, I want my form to be perfect, I want my fighting perfect, I want to ensure that the current world champion falls and is broken before me!”

She sighed, “I’ll call, but make the next one last. I’m uncertain that we can continue to explain away the reasons for the hopefuls never getting the chance to actually box outside of sparring with you.”

A bark of laughter escaped him, “They won’t get to box besides with me because they’re unworthy of it.”