Aimee's Revenge

A little story about why I began lifting weights. --Aimee

Even as a little girl, I could always see it in their eyes.  
Men, they all looked at me, they all wanted me, and many.....
well, they feared me.

For the most part, I was your average American girl - I grew
up playing with Barbie, but whereas my girlfriends' dolls
were all housewives, my Ken doll wore the skirt in my house.
And I didn't spend all my time with dolls and stupid tea
parties like many of the other girls, because I loved soccer and
football.  I enjoyed basketball, too, but everytime I hit one
of the boys a little too hard, they'd all cry "foul".  Sissies.

Here I was, all 5 feet, 92 lbs of me, and they were crying.  What
was this world coming to?  As I got older, approaching my teen
years, the boys began to get bigger, too - much bigger.  They
started learning how to throw their weight around and began
playing rougher with me than I wanted.  

But I never cried.

When I was 13, however, I began to become a woman.  Previously
flat-chested, my boobs were now the envy of all the girls in
my school.  But they were also a target for all the boys.  I
still wanted to play sports with them, but instead of just
playing football, they became predatory animals.  Even the guys
on my own team would join in on the tackles just to try to
squeeze my boobs or to get a feel on my ass.

Some girls might've enjoyed all the attention, but I was not one
of them.  I was there to play football, not to be groped by a
bunch of perverts.  I was up to a hefty 105 lbs by then, and my
sharp little elbows packed a wallop.  A couple of bloody noses
caused at least a few of them to think a little before trying
that mess with me again.

There was this one kid, though, who was just relentless.  Danny was
about 5-4 and must've weighed at least 130 lbs and he'd always run
to wherever I was, even if I didn't have the ball.  He kept
insisting on rubbing his hands all over my body and I did not like
that at all.  He was so gross!  Well, after one play, he got me
down on the ground and wouldn't get off me.  I started kicking
and squirming and eventually broke free.  I immediately turned
and cracked him in the nose with my elbow and kicked him in the
balls as hard as I could.  He fell over on his side crying and
holding his nuts while his nose bled all over the ground.

"Crybaby!" I yelled at him and then I walked off.

I was really pissed off, so no one said anything to me, but they
all laughed and pointed at him.  After about a 10-minute break,
we got back to the game.  Thank goodness Danny stayed away from
me.  I didn't want to hurt him again, but I didn't want him
trying to hurt me either.  About an hour or so later, we decided
to call it quits for the day and I grabbed my ball and started
heading for home on my bike.  We normally played over in my
neighborhood where the best fields were, but this time had played
on the big field by our school which was about 3 miles from my
house.

I had only gone about 100 yards when the attack began.  Someone
rode up fast behind me and hit my back tire, causing me to fall
off my bike.  Before I could get up, the others were already there
with that snake Danny leading the bunch.  There were 5 of them
and there was 1 one me.  This didn't look good, didn't look good
at all.  There was still a little dried blood on Danny's face,
so I asked if he'd come looking for a second dose.  

"What's the matter?  Do you like getting beat up by girls or
something?  Good, tell your little girlfriends to scram and you
and me can deal with this."  Yeah, maybe this wasn't the best
time to be a smartass, but they had me surrounded and I figured
I may as well get my licks in while I could.  

"So you think you're tough huh, bitch?  We'll see just how tough
you are after we get through with ya" Danny said, trying his
best to appear macho in front of the buddies I had embarrassed
him in front of earlier that afternoon.

"What are you gonna do?  Tie me up with your panties and then
tickle me to death?"

"Grab her!" Danny said, and then David and Tim reached out and
did as he said.  I tried to shake free, but they had a good hold
on me, so I began to scream.  Then Stan came over and stuffed a
torn shirt in my mouth to muffle the sound as little Peter
began poking me in my boobs and punching me in my stomach with
his little girly fists.  But even though he was the smallest of
the group, the cumulative effect of his blows was making me
hurt quite a bit.  

Danny then came over, shoved him out of the way, and punched
me in the eye.  What a wus!  If his buddies weren't holding me,
he never would've done that.  "So who's the tough one now, huh?"
He was making a big mistake in taunting me, but I couldn't do
anything to stop him in this position.  He then hit me again in
the same eye and then right in the nose.  My nose didn't bleed
right away, so he hit me again and I could feel the blood began
to drip down.  What a wimp -- took him 2 hits to make me bleed.
I was hurting, but I wasn't going to cry.

That's when things went from bad to worse.  I couldn't yell for
help and Danny began to rub his hands all over my chest and
telling me how he wanted to get at them. "Mmmm, I just love
those tits of yours, I can't wait to see how they taste, bitch!"

He was really pissing me off, but when they took off my t-shirt,
they signed their death certificates.  I was closing to tears
when that sicko began licking my boobs with that icky tongue
of his.  I'd never been so grossed out in my life and I was
getting sick to my stomach.  I wanted to throw up all over him,
but they had that shirt tied around the back of my head.  Then
it got even worse.  He was saying all sorts of nasty things to
me while he did it and his buddies were urging him on.  That's
when he opened up his zipper, pulled out his little penis, and
rubbed that over my face and then on my boobs.

But I didn't cry.

I'm not sure how long it all lasted, but they eventually got
tired, dropped me to the ground, and then somebody kicked me
in the boobs as I lay there.  I was really in pain, but I was
mad as hell, too.  I sat there for a few minutes and tried to
gather myself, but it was no use.  That's when I began to cry.

I finally mustered the energy to collect my ball and bike and
start for home, but the more tears I shed, the angrier I got.  
I knew I couldn't tell anyone about what had happened to me.
Even at that age, I knew that they'd only get a slap on the
wrist and would be free to prey on other girls and without
ever facing the sort of punishment they deserved.  

I snuck up to my house and when I could see that my parents
weren't around, I went up to my bedroom, closed the door,
got myself cleaned up.....crying all the while.  I threw away
my bloody t-shirt and put ice on my eye to get the swelling
down some.  When they asked about the black eye, I would just
tell them it happened during football.  Injuries are part of
the game, right?  I was glad my big brother wasn't home.  If
he'd seen me in that condition, I think he might be in jail
for what he'd do to those boys.  I really love my big brother
a lot and he's very protective of me, but this was one I had
to handle on my own.  This was my problem to solve.  

------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning before breakfast, I went for a 5-mile run.
When I got back home, I did 300 crunches and went down to eat.
As expected, Dad asked me about the black eye and I told him
it was just a little something that had happened in yesterday's
game.  "That's my girl!" he said to me.  "I hope the other guy
looked worse" he said, smiling.  "He did!" I smiled, but inside
I was thinking to myself, 'but not nearly as bad as he's going
to look when I get through with him'.  

I didn't see any of my attackers at school that day, but I'm
not complaining about that.  I knew I'd see them plenty more
times in my life.  I also knew that I was going to get revenge
on all of them, and I intended for their pain and humiliation
to be 10 times what I was made to feel.

There was a thunderstorm after school, so soccer practice was
cancelled.  That was the 1st day I ever decided to go into
the weightroom, but it would not be my last.  As I walked in
and began looking around, I could feel the stares -- they all
had their eyes on me, but I guess that's to be expected since
I was the only girl in there and I was wearing a rather short
skirt.  

I just picked out a cool-looking machine at random and sat down
on it.  I grabbed the handles with my hands and squeezed my
elbows together.  I learned later that this was known as a
"pec deck" and is designed to work the muscles in the chest.
Boy, was it working!  I played around on a few more machines
that day and then knew I'd found the right place.  I decided
then and there that I would work out every day until I was
strong enough to get my revenge.......and I didn't care how
long it took.

(to be continued.....)