Thread: Fiction: Chores for the Boys
View Single Post
Old 03-19-2011, 07:06 PM   #4
Simp
Member
 
Simp's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: NewEngland
Posts: 45
Default Sequel Continued

The moment of truth had come. The 16-year-old Greg was slumped
against the garage wall, his hands drooping at his sides, his
stomach now unprotected, while 10-year-old Kim continued to pepper
him with body blows. The 15-year-old Paul, also unable to hold his
guard up, was likewise helpless in the face of tiny 9-year-old

Kristy, who stood in front of him, taunting the much larger boy
whom she had punched into a state of helplessness, and punctuating
her taunts with hard rights to Paul's stomach. Based on past
experience with Susan and Sandra, both boys knew what to expect
next, and they instinctively put their boxing gloves in front of
their crotches, hoping to protect themselves from the final blow to
their vitals that would finish them off. On their part, gloating
at the helplessness of the much larger boys, and having
conclusively demonstrated their superiority, Kim and Kristy
appeared to have decided that it was finally time to "bust" the
boys into oblivion. By now clearly stronger than the boys, the two
girls easily pried the boys' hands apart and away from their
groins. Pressing the boys' gloved hands against the wall so as to
leave room for a clean shot, Kim and Kristy steadied themselves in
front of the boys and prepared to deliver the coup-de-grace.

Suddenly, Susan walked up and tapped Kim on the shoulder. In her
hand, she held a copy of Diana's website FAQ, and she showed
something in it to Kim. Although their conversation was in
whispers, Greg heard Susan mention the word "borderline" and the
phrase "probably not," and saw Kim nod her head in reluctant
agreement. The next thing he knew, Kim put her knee down and so
did Kristy, and instead of busting the boys, the girls finished
them off cleanly with their fists. Standing in front of the by now
helpless Greg, Kim peppered him with a tremendous combination of
body punches - six, ten, a dozen - and the 16-year-old Greg slid
down the garage wall to end up lying helplessly on his back at the
feet of his little 10-year-old conqueror. Facing Paul, tiny Kristy
stood on the balls of her little white-sweat-sock-clad feet and
threw a left and then a right to the jaw of the boy standing
unsteadily in front of her. Paul's knees buckled, and the 15-year-
old boy fell to the ground at the feet of the 9-year-old girl,
spread-eagled on his face.

The rules said that a victory had to be by knockout or submission,
and now the girls' victory would clearly be official. As Sandra
began the count, Greg just lay there on his back, unable to make
any effort to get up, while Paul lay inertly on his face, not
moving a muscle. As the count reached ten, the boys were still
flat on the ground, lying helpless and defeated at the hands of
girls less than half their weight and six years their junior.
Laughing at the boys, each of the tiny preteen tomboys placed a
lithe but muscular leg on the opponent she had so convincingly
defeated, doing a little muscle pose while grinning from ear-to-
ear. And they had a lot to grin about. Muscular-looking teenage
boys, who each outweighed his little girl opponent by over 80
pounds, had succumbed in fair combat to the preteen girls' punching
power and stamina.

But the girls weren't through yet. They took off their boxing
gloves and stripped the boys of theirs as well. Then, each one
grabbing her helpless male opponent by the hair, they dragged the
boys along in a crouching position and pulled them out to the front
lawn. Throwing the defeated boys face down on the lawn, the girls
took the once-strong boys' arms and twisted them behind their backs
in a painful hammerlock. Just then, a group of girls and boys
walked past, coming back from the nearby swimming pool, and they
gathered on the lawn to watch the show. And a show is what Kim and
Kristy gave them. After working the boys' arms in a painful lock
for what seemed liked minutes, the girls flipped the boys onto
their sides, put the boys' heads between their strong young thighs,
and applied a head scissors. The boys pawed weakly at the girls'
legs, but didn't have nearly enough strength to pry them apart.
Slowly, the boys weakened further, to the point where they were
just lying there helpless and motionless, their heads trapped
between the muscular thighs of their little preteen opponents. The
girls could easily have rendered the boys totally unconscious, but
that would have spoiled their fun. So, after a minute or two more,
they released the boys, who lay there defenceless and spread-eagled
on their backs.

At that point, each of the girls picked up the comparatively
massive legs of her male opponent, putting one of his legs across
each of her shoulders. Then, using her shoulders for leverage, she
bent the boy's legs up past the vertical position back towards his
chest, to the point where his legs came close to touching his head.
Bent like a hairpin and in obvious pain, the boys begged the girls
to stop, and the girls eventually responded, but only after several
hysterical pleas from the boys. After that, straddling the chests
of the defeated older males, the young tomboy victresses slapped
the boys' faces, and threw in some short, but hard punches to the
jaw for emphasis. Meanwhile, the young girls in the watching
audience of swimmers, all between 9 and 11 years old, were laughing
at the spectacle, and shooting threatening glances at the boys in
their group, who seemed shocked at the demonstration of Girl Power
that they were witnessing.

The fight ended with Kim mounted on Greg's chest in a schoolgirl
pin, while Kristy straddled Paul in a similar position. Flexing
their own small but firm biceps, the girls made the helpless
teenage boys feel their muscles. They also made them admit that
they had been totally defeated in a fair fight by much smaller and
younger preteen girls, that they were no match for their Girl
Power, and that girls were the completely superior sex. Seeing
this, the girls in the watching audience made muscles of their own
for the boys in their group, who obediently felt them with a look
of complete humiliation on their faces. The fight was over, and it
was time for the defeated boys to pay tribute to the totally
superior girls.

Sandra stood in front of the humiliated Greg and Paul, and said
"OK, wimps, it's time for you to WA--." She couldn't get the last
word out, however, because Susan had suddenly placed her hand over
Sandra's mouth. Clutching Diana's website FAQ in her left hand,
Susan pointed her finger at a passage of text, and Greg heard her
whisper "definitely not!" Susan and Sandra then whispered in the
ears of Kim and Kristy, and the two preteen girls slowly got up off
the chests of the helpless boys, who lay there spread-eagled on
their backs, exhausted. In a final gesture of supremacy, Kim and
Kristy each put a foot on the chest of the much larger and older
boy that she had defeated, and flexed her right biceps in a classic
victory pose, while the assembled girls in the audience cheered
loudly. Then the preteen victresses commanded the conquered boys
to get up and carry them around the yard in their arms.

Exhausted, Greg and Paul got to their feet and struggled to comply.
Although Kim and Kristy were comparatively light at 75 and 67
pounds, the weakened boys could barely stagger around the yard
cradling the tiny preteen powerhouses who had conquered them so
easily. But not daring to drop the girls, the boys did as they
were told. As Kim and Kristy were carried over to the girls and
boys in the audience, the little tomboy victresses flexed their
right biceps so that the admiring girls and by now trembling boys
in the audience could feel them. From the assemblage of admiring
girls, there were comments of praise for Kim and Kristy, mixed with
jeers of "weakling" and "wimp" directed at Greg and Paul. Finally,
Kim and Kristy commanded Greg and Paul to carry them into the
house, and the teenage boys staggered to the back door, each
carrying the little preteen girl who had mastered his powerfully
muscled male body and shattered what was left of his male ego.

When they got in the kitchen, the girls said that they were
thirsty, and ordered the boys to pour each of them a cold glass of
milk. The 9-year-old Kristy sat at the kitchen counter sipping her
milk, while 16-year-old Paul could only sit across from her
thirstily looking at her - she wouldn't let him have any. After
taking a few large sips of the cold milk, Kristy sat there, with a
cute little milk-mustache on her face, and put her right arm on the
counter. "I haven't beaten you armwrestling yet!," she taunted the
16-year-old boy, and commanded him to put his arm up on the table.
Reluctantly, Greg complied, at the same time wondering whether he
might redeem at least a shred of his male honour by being able to
beat a young girl at something. His opponent now was the 9-year-
old Kristy - not her bigger 10-year-old sister who had beaten him
outside in the fight. There had to be some limit to a young girl's
power!

They locked hands, and Greg tried to push Kristy's arm over
quickly, using all of his remaining strength. But Kristy held off
his best effort, and then, picking up the glass of milk in her left
hand, she slowly took several sips from it while easily holding
Greg at bay with her right arm. Then she put down the glass, and
gazed directly into Greg's eyes. "You're going down, BOY!," she
said, emphasising the last word with a tone of utter contempt.
With that, she began putting on a slow, relentless pressure, and
Greg saw his arm begin to move down towards the table - first a
quarter of an inch, then a half, then a whole inch. Kristy's
little biceps peaked with the effort. Greg was giving it
everything he had, and his arm was quivering with the strain. But
he kept losing ground, when suddenly, in a burst of unexpected
strength, little Kristy slammed his arm down on the table. A 16-
year-old boy, weighing 170 pounds of beautifully-sculpted male

muscle, had lost a contest of strength to a 9-year-old girl whom he
outweighed by more than 100 pounds! Crestfallen and humiliated,
Greg kept his gaze fixed on the countertop - he dared not look his
tiny conqueror in the eye! She, however, was not above gloating at
her triumph, and made Greg admit out loud that she was stronger
than he was, and that girls were clearly the stronger sex.

Kim and Kristy walked over to the corner of the kitchen and
whispered together. Then they came back. "Okay, BOYS," chortled
Kristy, "it's TRIBUTE TIME!" The teenage boys knew what this
meant. Mixed in with their utter humiliation was a feeling of
worship for the totally superior preteen girls, and subconsciously,
Greg and Paul felt a need to recognize the girls' supremacy by an
act of self-abasement.

Greg and Paul stared with mixed emotions of awe and humiliation at
the preteen girls confronting them. Their gaze wandered up their
bodies, drinking in everything. They saw the grass-stained white
sweat socks covering the small feet whose kicks had sent them
reeling, and now they felt a powerful urge to kneel down and kiss
those feet as an acknowledgment of the girls' supremacy. The boys'
eyes lingered on the muscular little tanned calves and thighs that
had so recently held them powerless on the lawn. They noticed as
well the firm young forearms and little fists that had punched them
helpless, and the girls' taut little tummies that could probably
have withstood a boy's punch with ease. The boys couldn't help but
notice also the firm little biceps that the girls had made them
feel in their moment of triumph. And finally, Greg and Paul looked
into the girls' proud faces, and saw in their eyes and mouths the
haughty confidence that they felt in themselves as girls, and the
sneering contempt that they felt for the defeated teenage boys.
Gazing with undisguised admiration at the preteen girls who had
mastered them, Greg and Paul felt no hostility, and were
overwhelmed instead by feelings of humiliation and submissiveness.

"Does the tribute you want begin with the letter W," Greg humbly
asked Kristy, consciously dreading and subconsciously hoping that
she would say yes. "Yes it does BOY!," responded Kristy
imperiously as she proudly stood in front of Greg with her hands on
her hips. Hearing this, and looking at the tough little tomboy who
had uttered the words, Greg felt an involuntary thrill of
excitement pass through his body. But it was short-lived.
Laughing, Kristy continued "The word WRITE begins with a W, and
what you weakling boys have to do for tribute is each write an
essay, at least 1,000 words long, telling what you learned about
girls' superiority on your summer holiday! And it has to be
perfect, with no spelling or grammar mistakes, or you'll have to do
it all over again. And our mum is going to check it - she's a
teacher - so make sure there are NO mistakes. And, by the way, I
want it by tomorrow morning!" And then Kim chimed in, saying "It
had better be good, and besides talking about Susan and Sandra, it
had better say a lot about Kristy and me - understand BOY!"

Greg shook his head meekly in acknowledgment, and so did Paul.
They hated to write. Worse yet, they hated the thought of having
to really admit to themselves, and to express in words, how totally
superior girls had proved themselves to be. And the thought of the
girls' mother reading their papers made it even more humiliating.
Nevertheless, if that was the tribute the victorious little girls
had demanded, that was what they would have - even though it wasn't
quite the tribute that the boys had gotten used to paying. Greg
and Paul walked slowly outside with their heads bowed, and humbly
asked Sandra where they could find some pens and paper, and whether
they could have some time off from their chores to write their
tribute. [It might be an interesting sequel to this story, for yet
another author, to relate what they wrote.]

The End
__________________
18 | Male | Switch
Likes: Friendly conversation, Witty Banter, Dares, Bondage, Roleplay
Limits: Blood, Public, Family, Scat, Sending $$$, Extreme Pain
Simp is offline   Reply With Quote