My Wife The Assassin

Trembling in fear, the man began, "One of our rival companies was developing a valve system that could be used in space suits to make them less bulky. NASA would pay big bucks for something like that. So we had a spy go in and steal the technology. We were going to patent it as our own and sell it to NASA first. Then one of their security guys got suspicious and started an investigation. Luckily, we were able to stop him in time."

"That was the guy you hired me to kill. He wasn't a spy at all. You dirty lying fuckers, you manipulated me into killing an innocent man," Debbie growled as she realized. She looked down dominantly at her terrified victim. "Go on," she said icily.

"Well, we became afraid that you knew too much," he continued. "So we...you know. That's the whole story."

"Who else is involved?" my wife demanded.

"Just my boss, Mr. Skinner. He was the one who came up with the whole thing."

"That's all? Who was the spy?"

The wounded man pointed to the corpse in the trench coat next to him. "He was the spy. And yeah, that's all. Just Skinner and his three bodyguards."

"And where is this Skinner now?"

"At his house, I guess. 1330 Baker Street."

"All right. That's all I need."

The thug sat up. "When you call the police to get me, can you call an ambulance too?"

Debbie laughed. "Police? Are you nuts? I'm not going to have you arrested. I'm going to kill you."

"But...please...no..." His begging was halfhearted, as he knew my deadly wife wasn't changing her mind. Debbie calmly wrapped her muscular thighs around his neck, then twisted her hips 180 degrees, brutally snapping his neck like a dry twig.

I climbed out from my hiding place and stood next to my wife, looking down at all the dead bodies. "Once again, you were amazing," I said to her.

She let the tension exit her body. "Thank you, sweetie. And you were a fool. But a brave and loving fool."

Debbie bent down and opened the briefcase. Inside was two million dollars in $100 bills. She grinned.

"So now what?" I asked.

"We go get Skinner, of course. And by we, I mean me." Noticing the disappointed look on my face, she added, "After I take out his bodyguards, I'll let you watch me take care of Skinner." I smiled at that.

Skinner's house was a large two-story dwelling not far from his place of business. Debbie parked a couple of blocks away and instructed me to wait in the car.

Staying hidden in the shadows, she made her way towards the house. A bodyguard was on duty outside, carrying a shotgun. She snuck up behind him. Wrapping a muscular arm around his neck, she gave a quick jerk, breaking his neck. Smirking to herself at her strength, she lowered the corpse to the ground. She took a ring of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door.

Inside, she encountered no one until she reached the bottom of the staircase. Hearing footsteps approaching, she quickly hid. Soon the second bodyguard came into view. She popped out from her hiding place and, before he could react, punched him in the face, sending him down. Standing over him, she raised her right leg in a full vertical split, then brought her booted foot down with tremendous force onto his head. Her lethal axe kick shattered his skull easily, sending blood, brain matter, and pieces of bone flying everywhere.

Debbie climbed the stairs swiftly but silently. She found the third bodyguard and Skinner himself in the den. "Evening, gentlemen," she said as she entered the room.

Both men looked up in surprise. With a shrill, feminine, high-pitched warrior scream, Debbie performed a front tuck somersault to take her right to them. Landing perfectly on her feet, she fired a lethal palm strike into the bodyguard's face as he was trying to draw his gun. The cartilage from his nose was driven into his brain and he slumped dead in the chair he had been sitting in.

Skinner recognized my wife. "You! What the fuck are you do..."

POW! Debbie punched him in the face, knocking him out and knowing it would leave him unconscious for at least fifteen minutes.

"And that's what happened while you were in the car," my wife finished as we stood together in the den, looking at Skinner's unconscious form.

When Skinner woke up, Debbie was standing right in front of him, her muscular arms crossed in front of her. He gave a yelp of fear. I was seated in a chair across the room, watching the whole thing.

"I know everything," she said to him calmly. "I know that you were the real industrial spies. I know that you were the one who put the hit out on me. I killed the would-be assassins that came after me, I killed your co-conspirators, and I killed your other two bodyguards before I came in here. Now all that's left is you."

"What are you going to do?" he whimpered, shaking like a leaf.

"Well, if you can actually put up a fight against me, I'm going to fight you to the death. But more likely, it's just going to be a one-sided massacre of me beating you to death. My arms are bigger than yours," she taunted, showing off her large, ultra-developed forearms that were displayed by the three-quarter length sleeve top.

"Please," Skinner begged. "I can give you more money..."

"Are you hard of hearing or just slow? I'm not interested in your money. I'm only interested in your death. Now get up and fight me like a man."

Skinner got to his feet, still shaking. At 5'8" and 140 pounds, he was a little bigger than me, but smaller than my wife. He tried to punch her, but she dodged easily and nailed his cheek with a quick jab, opening a bloody cut on his face. He took another swing, which Debbie blocked with her thick forearm. She responded by lashing out with a swift and brutal punch to his left eye, turning it black. As he stood there stunned, she kneed him in the stomach, stepped back and with a whirl nailed his face with a spinning back fist, and then performed a standing back handspring, kicking him in the head with both feet as she flipped and knocking him to the floor.

"Get up, you big baby," she mocked him, kicking him in the side while he was down and breaking one of his ribs with her powerful, well-aimed kick. Cursing and moaning in pain, Skinner got up and tried to charge her. She stopped him easily with a kick to his chest. She roundhouse kicked him in the side, breaking another of his ribs, then crescent kicked him in the face, sending him flying backward and into a wall.

A dizzy Skinner tried to look for a way to escape. Instead, he saw Debbie turn into a brunette blur as she did a blindingly fast series of cartwheels and front handsprings toward him. He froze helplessly like a rabbit faced with a snake and a second later my wife was on him, punching him in the stomach and causing him to double over gasping for breath. Struggling to stand back upright, he took a swing at Debbie's stomach. Seeing it coming, she simply tensed her abs. He screamed in pain as his fist impacted the rock-hard wall of my wife's abdominal muscle and several small bones in his hand broke. His other hand flew to his mouth in shock and fear. She immediately kicked him in the face while his hand was there, breaking both his jaw and several small bones in that hand too. She savagely kneed him in the groin, then headbutted him, knocking him down again.

Skinner was in the fetal position, clutching his badly damaged testicles. Debbie leapt on top of him and punched him in the nose with her big, leather-gloved fist, breaking it. She rained several more punches down onto his face, sending blood and teeth flying.

Finally, she climbed off of him and placed her semi-conscious victim in a sitting position against the wall. She then began kneeing him in the face. She worked calmly and efficiently, ignoring his cries of pain and the blood that was flying everywhere. She simply continued ramming her knee into his face again and again, slowly pulping him to death as her relentless knee strikes weakened, then cracked, then shattered his skull bone and penetrated deep into the remnants of his brains. She finally stopped long after she had killed him.

She turned towards me. She was covered in blood. I sat there, unable to move or speak. I shouldn't be that way. I've known what she does for a living! But I simply was not used to seeing extreme violence up close...or seeing my warm and loving wife being so brutal.

"You okay, sweetie?" she asked.

I finally managed to speak. "Yes. I think so," I said, standing up. In every action movie with tough, macho male heroes, a man who was brutal to the bad guys was never portrayed as a dangerous or unsuitable mate to a woman. Why should it be any different with the sexes reversed?

After that we cleaned up, literally and figuratively. I hacked into Skinner's computer and put the word out that he was dead and the contract on my wife was off. Debbie took off her bloody clothes, washed up in Skinner's shower, and put on a fresh outfit.

"It's over now," she said as we embraced in the room where the dead bodies still lay. "Let's go home."

THE END