The High School Gymnast Vs. The NFL Pro Bowler
by Mr.Purple357@gmail.com
Chapter 1


(Author's Note - If you've read my Honeybun and Crossfit Katie stories, this
will be a bit of a departure. This story is inspired by such stories as
Nadiawrite's Samantha The Bully and MLG's Mary Is Merciless. While I enjoy a
lot of the elements of those stories, the sadism of the female characters
often bothers me, so while this story will follow the traditional path of
those stories at first, it will then go in a totally different direction.

Also, I don't like writing about the significantly underage, so the characters
are aged up relative to those stories. However, I do like writing explicit sex
scenes so there will be a fair amount of that added in.)

I was walking thru the parking garage of the Houston Hilton when a girl popped
up in front of me and said, "Hey, aren't you B.B. Ohm, the football player?"
She was barely five feet tall with long copper hair framing her very pretty
face. She wore tight yoga pants and a Baytown High Gymnastics tee shirt.

"Yes, I'm heading to a fundraiser for hurricane relief," I replied. She didn't
say anything, just stood there with her arms crossed. As I looked into her
almost glowing green eyes, I found something about her expression disquieting.
It took me a moment to realize what it was - contempt. I wondered if she had
something against football, we'd been getting it from both the right and left
lately. "Look, I'm already late. If you don't want an autograph, you'll have
to excuse me."

I stepped to the side to walk around her but she'd already moved in front of
me. "The guys on my school's football team say you're the toughest guy in the
state." She smiled prettily, but I found something about that smile off
putting. I wondered if she was a disturbed fan.

"Ha, only on the football field. Now, again, please excuse me." I stepped to
the side and forward, figuring I'd slide past her. Every now and then, I meet
a fan who goes too far and the best thing to do is just get away from them.
Before I could though, there was a blur of motion. She was in front of me
again and I collided with her.

I'm 6' 5" and 290 lbs. Off the football field, I've never hurt anyone, but she
was so small, just bumping into her would send her flying. I quickly stepped
back and said, "Oh, crap, are you ok?," before realizing she hadn't budged.

She giggled. "I'm fine. And you're going to have to do a lot better than that
if you want to get by me." She waved me forward, then crossed her arms as if
waiting for me to come at her.

"Are you kidding?" I've had this happen to me before, someone tries to pick a
fight so they can sue me afterwards for hurting them, but it'd never been a
high school girl. "Look, I don't have time for this, I'm trying to raise money
for charity."

She rolled her eyes, "Fuck charity, but if you're in such a rush, just push
past me and I'll be out of your hair." Yep, lawsuit waiting to happen.
"Certainly the toughest man in football can get by a tiny seventeen year old
girl."

I pulled out my phone. "Sorry, but I'm not giving you what you want. I'll just
call hotel security instead." I saw another blur of motion, felt a sting of
pain in my hand, and my phone went flying. I shook my fingers, they actually
hurt.

She waved the hand she'd slapped me with. "Nope, no cheating. Now, you'd
better hurry if you don't want to be even later."

I was tempted just to go back to my car and drive to the valet parking, but I
was now very late. I decided I could gently pull her aside, and be on my way.
I grabbed her by the upper part of her outstretched arm and lifted. She didn't
budge. What the hell? I pulled on her and she didn't move. I wasn't using
anywhere near full power, but she couldn't weigh more than eighty or ninety
pounds. Was she wearing weights or were her shoes bolted to the floor?

I felt a small but very hard bicep flex outward beneath my fingers forcing
them apart. She pushed her arm forward, amazingly my arm moved back not
slowing hers at all. Again, I wasn't using full force, but still. She brought
her hand opposite my chest; then shoved it outward faster than my eyes could
follow right into my sternum. I let go of her arm as I went flying back. It
was all I could do to keep my feet under me so as not to fall to the hard
concrete floor.

"You're not taking this seriously enough," she said. "Just like the football
players back at my school before I beat the shit out of them."

My chest ached from her blow. It had to be a trick but that didn't mean she
wasn't dangerous. "I take you seriously," I told her, "who are you and what do
you want?"

"My name is Carrie Carson, but you can call me Master. As for what I want, I
want to hurt you like you've never been hurt before. And I want to prove I'm
the baddest person in Texas." She flexed her right arm, her bicep wasn't very
big but bulged impressively from her arm. It also looked, well it's hard to
easily explain, but for some reason it looked very dense.

I started to circle. She'd moved away from the garage exit, maybe I could run
past her. Despite her tricks, I wasn't really scared, but fighting her made no
sense, she was clearly mentally ill. "Why do you want to hurt me? Did I ever
do something to you?" She took another step into the garage.

"Nope, we've never met and I could give a crap about football. I just think
it'd be fun to turn the 'toughest' guy in Texas into another sissy kissing my
tiny feet." Now, I had a clean line to the exit. I charged forward. Once I got
out of there, I'd send security back for Carrie. Five feet to the door, a
whoosh and she was in front of me, her right hand outstretched. I had no time
to slow down and I was moving near full speed.

Just before impact, I thought, Oh, God, I'm going to kill her. Then my stomach
collided with her tiny hand. All the air whoosed out of me as I came to an
instant halt. My legs and upper body kept going and I folded in two. My face
came within an inch of hers. As it did, she puckered her lips and mimed a
kiss. My body wrapped around her arm and my face continued its arc to strike
her rock hard upper arm. My nose squished painfully against it.

She pushed back with her hand and I flew back several feet to land on my butt.
I desperately tried to suck in some air. How had she done this? It couldn't be
possible. She flexed her left arm this time, maybe to show me it bulged just
as much and had that same density to it as her right. She laughed, "Now, I
have to admit, none of the other guys charged me that hard, but it seems you
took all the damage. I'm just so much stronger than you."

That made no sense. Even if she were super strong, she still should have flown
backwards when I struck her, that was simple physics, but she hadn't budged.
It still had to be a trick. I couldn't see any body armor on her but maybe it
was some sort of clear plastic. As she approached, I told her, "Look, kid,
enough, either get out of my way, or I'm going to have to punch you." I got up
on one knee and raised my big fist. Her stomach was directly opposite me.

"Sounds good. Here let me make it easy." She raised her tee shirt, exposing
her midriff. I gasped with surprise at how taut her abs were on her tiny
frame. I'd dated a female bodybuilder and a fitness star and they didn't have
such a hard looking stomach. I looked closely, no, she wasn't wearing a
plastic plate.

"I'm really sorry about this," I said as I slammed my fist into it. "AHHHHH,"
I screamed and clutched my hand against my chest. The only thing that kept it
from shattering was the tiniest bit of give as it struck. Even so, I thought
I'd cracked a knuckle and my shoulder ached from the recoil.

"That tickled, do you want to try again?" She held out her fist and again
showed off her biceps. "You probably should because it'll be my turn next." I
still knew this had to be a trick, but I was damned if I knew how she was
doing it, but her showing off gave me an opportunity. I came off my knee and
shifted to the side, aiming my hand at her forearm. Even if I couldn't move
her, I could leverage her arm to spin her to the side so I could finally get
by her.

I struck her forearm squarely, but instead of spinning her, she moved her
forearm outward, my arm kept going so my upper arm collided with hers. Again,
I was brought to a stop. She wrapped her forearm closed around my tricep. I
did the same so our biceps were pushing against each other while our forearms
pushed against our triceps.

I still wasn't having any luck moving her, but now that our arms were locked
together, I figured I'd just squeeze her arm until she submitted. I flexed my
large 21" bicep into hers and pulled my forearm inward towards it. My big
bicep pushed into hers but nothing happened. I pushed my forearm against her
tricep with all my might, still nothing.

"Oh, are you trying to crush my arm with your weak man muscles?" she laughed.
"Here let me show you how it's done." She flexed her little bicep. It pushed
into my much bigger one. It kept pushing, it started to hurt a little, then a
lot. "Look how my small but super strong girl muscle is crushing your
overinflated man muscle.

My bicep began to completely cave in. In agony now, I unfolded my arm to try
and reduce the pressure, but still that impossibly hard arm muscle kept
smooshing into my arm while her forearm began to dig into my tricep. Tears
began to run out of my eyes as her upper and lower arm inexorably came
together flattening my muscles. Oh, God, she really is stronger than me, much
stronger. If she kept going, she'd tear my arm muscles.

Desperate, I tried to lift her, but she barely budged, it was like she was
made out of lead. I took my free arm and slammed it into her thigh, the muscle
there was almost as firm as her abs and just wiggled a little as I repeatedly
hit it. I felt my bicep start to tear, oh, god, I was going to need arm
surgery if she kept going. "Please stop," I cried, "you're hurting me."

"Well that's the idea, dummy." She tightened her arm further, her powerful
bicep had bored all the way thru mine and was nearing the bone. I gave up on
her leg and punched her ass. A little softer, but it didn't budge her or
bother her. Her side, I prayed, maybe a kidney punch will stop her. I drove my
fist into her lower back. "Hah, even your cheap shots can't hurt me," she
laughed.

I screamed. She wasn't going to just tear my muscles, as her bicep and forearm
came closer and closer, I realized she would snap my arm like a twig. "Help,
help me, anyone please," I shouted. There had to be security cameras around
here. Where were the guards?

"You're wasting your breath. I cold cocked the rent a cop and left him in a
janitor's closet. It'll be hours before shift change," she said. "And everyone
else is at that charity gala waiting for you. We have plenty more alone time."
My arm bone started to buckle, any moment it would snap.

"Please, please don't break my arm," I begged. It was humiliating to beg, but
the pain had driven me long past the point of caring. The thought of having my
arm destroyed was even worse than the pain. Torn muscles were bad enough, but
a shattered arm and I might never play ball again. "Please, I'll do anything
you ask. I have money. I'll give you money, just stop hurting me."

"Well of course I'm going to take your money." She halted her arm's movement.
"Tell me my name," she ordered.

"Carrie Carson, Carrie Carson," I shouted, relieved I'd remembered her name.

She started squeezing again, "Wrong, try again." No, that was right, that had
to be right. "Better hurry, I think you've got about three seconds until this
thing shatters into pieces."

God save me. Please. Then just before my arm would have broken, I remembered
what else she'd said. "Master, your name is Master. Master please don't break
my arm. My arm that's so much weaker than yours." The little monster had
already so broken me that I threw in extra groveling unasked.

She loosened her arm ever so slightly. "I'll tell you what, I won't break your
arm if you kiss my feet." She pointed down at her sandaled feet, the toes
painted bright red.

I wept at the humiliation, but there was really no choice. "Yes, Master, thank
you Master," I replied and she loosened her grip so I could bend down. Tears
flowed from my eyes and ran down my face as I kissed her little toes. She
placed her other foot atop my head as I did and said, "This is exactly where
you belong, Mr. Bigshot NFL Star, beneath my feet begging me not to hurt you."

I whimpered, "Yes, Master, you're right of course."

Long seconds passed as she made me worship one foot, than the other. "Ok,
enough of this." She slammed a hand just below my chest. Her fingers crushed
into my stomach, ignoring my abs as if they were made of paper and squeezing
until she had a firm grip on my agonized muscles, she began to lift me. Even
though I was in incredible pain, I was stunned as with one hand she lifted my
nearly 300 lbs. off the ground and kept lifting until she held me over her
head.

"How," I gasped, "how can you be so strong, Master?"

She looked up at me and smiled, "I guess doing gymnastics made my girl muscles
a lot stronger than doing football made your sad man muscles." I was in too
much pain and too scared to argue, but I knew that explanation was bullshit.
I'd also dated a member of the Fab Five, one of the women who'd won a gold
medal in gymnastics at the Olympics. Pound for pound, she was one of the
strongest people I'd ever met, but she was nowhere near as strong as me. I
could also lift and swing her around with ease. However Carrie had gotten so
strong, gymnastics alone didn't explain it.

She held up her index finger then put it to her thumb to form a circle. She
put it near my forehead. "Nighty night, B.B." She flicked it outward, I felt a
stab of pain in my head, then everything went black.

I woke up in my own bed. I sighed, it had all just been a dream. That was a
relief, but why did my arm hurt so badly. Before I could begin to examine it,
a terrifyingly beautiful girl's face bent down over me. A cascade of long red
hair rained down on me like blood. "Wakey, wakey," she giggled, "time for
round 2."

I trembled in terror.

(If people are interested in this, B.B.'s nightmare is going to get a lot
worse before it gets better.)