My girlfriend's little sister by IndustrialFlesh@aol.com A young soccer player puts an older boy to shame with her strength I was sitting on the couch, waiting for my girlfriend, Catherine. She always took a long time to get ready. Not because she wore a lot of makeup or anything, she was a little too crunchy for that. She just took her time about things, I think. I didn't mind waiting. I liked her a lot and our relationship was going well. We'd been going out since the beginning of junior year. I was trying to watch TV in the den to distract myself, when Catherine's little sister, Tracy, came into the room. She was only in 8th grade, but she fancied herself a perceptive little thing. She was a pretty girl and though she was younger, she was probably prettier than Catherine, although I never would have said so. Maybe, she wasn't really prettier, she was just more perfect-looking, more manicured. Her face was perfectly round. Eyes, a beautiful blue with long lashes. Her lovely brown hair was up in a ponytail. She had a cute smile that got even cuter when she blinked her eyes at me the way she was doing right now. "Hi, Tom!" she beamed, bouncing on to the sofa beside me. "Hi, Tricia." I gave her a quick glance. She had on a little workout suit. Green nylon sweatpants and a matching top. The pants were not the tight-styled kind, but her legs filled them up so they were very snug on her. She was a stocky girl, not too fat, but not too thin either. "You going out with Catherine?" she asked. "Yup." I kept trying to watch TV. "You're dropping me off at soccer practice first." "Yeah, I know." "You can watch me practice...if you want." I looked at her a little funny now, but tried not to let on that I thought her suggestion funny. "Yeah, maybe we will." "No, you can. My sister can't." I chuckled at this. "Well, that might be a little difficult since I'll be with you're sister." "I don't care. That's the rule." "Okay," I said again, trying to be nice. "What are you watching?" "Uhh...some dumb movie, I don't know, School Ties, I think it's called?" She didn't seem very interested in my answer. "I'm hot," she announced and then stripped down her sweat suit. She shook herself out of the top and then peeled her pants down, kicking them off her ankles. She had on a white tank-top and blue, snug-fitting shorts. With her soccer socks rolled down to her ankles, I noticed the size of her calves. They were very big and very full. She `clomped' her black cleats on the floor several times as if to burn off some excess energy and I could hear the weight of those sizeable calves each time her feet slammed the floor. Then, as she brought her legs back toward the bottom of the couch, I looked at her thighs. Her thighs were big. They were well-fed with tremendous muscular sweep, obviously the result of rigorous conditioning. Her upper-body was equally eye-popping. She was broad-shouldered with a thick chest, brawny arms and rounded shoulders. What a body this young girl had! She was an eighth grader?! Holy shit! She looked like a little bodybuilder or something. God almighty! What had Tracy been doing? "Do you play a sport?" she asked, crossing her muscular legs. Her right calf came to rest over her left knee. The considerable muscle expanded wide and it was hard for me not to stare at it. "Uh...I wrestle..." "Oh, really? I play soccer." "I know," I said, trying not to roll me eyes. She didn't seem to notice. "Do you work out a lot for that?" "Yeah." This wasn't exactly true. I was one of the smaller guys on the team. I was 5'9" and I wrestled in the 132 pound class. Quickness was my game and I got by mostly on my natural ability and the skills I'd acquired over the years. I really wasn't into the whole fitness thing. "I work out a lot for soccer. I run every day and lift weights." I just nodded. "You know?" She seemed to stop for a moment, not sure where to go from there. She seemed to be sort of reading me. "Yeah. That's great." Then she cocked her head as if she suddenly had an idea. "Do you do sit-ups?" she asked excitedly. "Sure," I shrugged. I had done them. "I bet I can do more sit-ups than you!" I laughed at this. "Oh, I'm not so sure about that, Tracy." "I bet I can!" Her pretty eyes were wide with excitement. "Wanna see?" "Oh, I don't know, Tracy." "Come on, Tom. Let's have a contest! Let's see who can do more!" I finally shrugged and said, "Why not?" Hey, what was the harm in humoring the little kid. She seemed ready to burst otherwise. "We'll go at the same time and count together," she announced. "Fine," I said. Whatever. We layed down side-by-side. Her short body only came up to my shoulder. We tucked our feet into the space under the couch and bent our knees slightly. I still couldn't get over those robust legs she had. Lying back with her legs next to mine, it was striking how much more muscle she packed on her legs which were considerably shorter than mine. "Ready?" I nodded. "Go!" We went together with her counting. "1-2-3-4-5-6..." She was counting really fast and it was hard to keep up. This compact, younger girl performed a sit-up a lot faster than I did. I really had to work. As we got up into the 30's and 40's I began to slow down. I was not keeping up with her cadence at all. She didn't seem to be paying attention though. I peered over at her and she was just cranking them out, going as strong as when she had started. I could feel my stomach reaching its limits as we entered the 50's, though for her it must have been more like the 60's. I did my last sit-up at number, 64. I collapsed back down on the floor, feeling kind of defeated, kind of...I don't know what. Tracy was still going and I didn't like it one bit. She was a machine. A young soccer player in better shape than I was. An eighth grade girl with a steel stomach. Bang-bang-bang...she went...right up to 150. When she got there, she sat up, panting hard. "I could keep going," she breathed, "but I've already beaten you." I didn't know what to say to this. "See? I told you I could do more sit-ups than you." I nodded weakly. It was kind of unsettling, being beaten by this younger girl. "I probably do more sit-ups every day than you do. How many do you do?" "Uhh...I don't know..." "I do 200 every day." I tried to ignore her. "I do 200 sit-ups every day," she said, pressing her point. I nodded. She pulled up her shirt so I could see her tummy of muscle. This young girl had abs that put me to shame. She had a real six-pack like one of those aerobics instructors on TV. "See?...You can punch it...Go ahead...Punch it. It won't hurt." "That's okay, Tracy." "No, come on. I want you to..." "That's okay. I believe you." I didn't want to punch this girl's strong stomach. I was feeling out of sorts as it was. "Well...well...I bet I can do more pull-ups," she said, pointing to the bar wedged in the doorway. "Tracy, I'd quit while I'm ahead if I were you. Boys tend to have stronger arms than girls, you know." "I bet I can do more." I was getting impatient now. "Tracy, I really doubt it." "Let's make a bet. If you win, I have to wash your car once a month for the rest of the year. If I win, you have to take me out on a date just like you take Catherine." This I did not expect. I was surprised and then angry. Angry that this little tyke thought of me as being in her league enough that I should have to take her out. She was so young, for God's sake. And I was insulted that she thought she could beat me. "Fine, Tracy. Let's go. My car could use the washing." "Yeahhhh!" she cheered. "Do you want to go first or can I?" "No, please, ladies first..." "Ooh, Tom. I didn't know you thought of me as a lady." I rolled my eyes. "Okay, girls first." "Okay," she bubbled, bounding over to the doorway. She stood under the bar for a moment and then jumped up and caught it. She pulled herself up with frightening ease. Then she began. I counted as she pulled herself up and down. Up and down. As Tracy raised and lowered herself, I witnessed a very impressive musculature in her back. I gulped at the sight of it. And had I realized just how strong her arms were, I never would have taken her up on this challenge. Tracy did 18 pull-ups before dropping to the floor, exhausted. I got under the bar and pulled myself up, immediately recognizing that 18 pull- ups was going to be tough to beat. I managed 9. I was not laughing. I felt incredibly stupid and ridiculous. Tracy, on the other hand was delighted. "I knew I could beat you..." I was so pissed, I couldn't sit still and listen to her crap. This time I made excuses. "That's because you weigh less than me. You're really light. I mean look at you. You're only what, 5 feet tall?" "5'1" and I'm not light. I weigh 125 pounds," she asserted in a bratty tone. I recalled my own weight as an eighth grader, a whopping 83 pounds. I was not amused to learn that this girl, had I been her age, would have out-weighed me by 42 pounds. "Really! I'm not that light. Go ahead. Pick me up." She kicked off her cleats and raised her arms at me. Oh, what the hell? I was curious. I took the young girl under her arms and hoisted her up off the ground. I was stunned by how heavy she felt. Tracy seemed to weigh a ton. Her hefty body was dragging toward the floor in seconds and I was huffing and puffing to stop it. "See?" she said. "Aren't I heavy?" She was heavier than she looked. That was for sure. And it meant only one thing. As Tracy's nimble little socked feet touched the floor, I knew Tracy was 125 pounds of muscle. It was those legs, those big solid legs and that back, those arms. It was all muscular weight. The young soccer girl was as buff as they come and it made me feel very uneasy. She must have somehow sensed it. "I'm sorry Tom. I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything." "No, no. You didn't. Don't be silly, Tracy." "If you think I've been bad, you can spank me." I thought this was funny...and kind of cute. "No that's alright, Tracy." "No, really. Go ahead. Spank me. So I'll remember to be good." She turned and stuck her rear out at me provocatively. She really had a butt on her too. It was so round. Like she had two bowling balls in her little shorts. I just couldn't resist. I gave her a little whack. I was astounded by how strong her backside felt. It was so solid. Lotta butt muscle back there. She grinned at me. She had a butt like a fullback and she knew it. "That didn't hurt," she bragged, immaturely. "So when are we going out?" "Tracy, come on..." "Come on, yourself. I won the bet." "Tracy..." "Look Tom, you know you want to go out with me. I saw you looking at my legs." This was getting out of hand. "I-I-did not!" "Tom, you were looking at my muscles." "No, I wasn't, Tracy..." "Suuuuuure..." I was dealing with an eighth grader here. She was so immature. This was not cool. "Wanna see my muscles?" Then Tracy made a bicep. I just gasped and my jaw dropped. I swallowed hard. I couldn't believe how big her muscle was. It was huge. It looked like a rock. The young girl giggled as she saw how impressed I was. "Isn't it big? I've got size. That's from doing a lot of barbell curls." "Jesus..." I gasped. "Why don't we compare your muscles with mine?" she asked with an evil grin on her face. I suppose she knew full well, I couldn't match the plump ball of steel she was sporting on her arm. "Nah, let's...let's..." "Arm-wrestle?" "No!" I boomed. "What are you kidding?" Tracy giggled. "Come on. I'll bet you again. If you win, you don't have to take me out." "Tracy, I don't have to as it is..." "Tom, a bet's a bet. You have to be fair. You have to be faaaaair..." She was whining now, being a little girl again. "Come on, Toooooom..." I rolled my eyes in a combination of disgust and exhaustion. This eighth grader sure knew how to wear me down. "Fine." I also agreed, because I knew I was good at arm-wrestling and I was confident I could win. Her arms might have been bigger than mine, but my arms were longer and leverage could win it for me. And believe me, at this point, I needed to win something to save face. I was not feeling very comfortable with the fact that I'd lost the last two physical contests to this little girl. She came around the coffee table and knelt down beside it, her big-muscled thighs expanding over the backs of her calves. We grabbed hands and she said, "Go!" What followed was absolutely devastating to my psyche. The young girl showed me who was boss from the moment she started pushing. Her arm was so much stronger than mine that she began to force my arm down right away. I'd lost arm-wrestling matches before, but never so quickly. Tracy's steel bicep was merciless and brutally strong. "Ahh!" I grunted, trying to offer some level of resistance. But all I could do was strain helplessly against her forceful arm. She crushed my hand to the table in seconds, humiliating me like I'd never been humiliated before. My face was beet-red. The little girl with the pony-tail grinned into it mischeviously. "Tom, don't feel bad but...you're not very strong..." I was just at a loss now. I said the only thing I could think of to say. "Tracy...how did you get so strong?" "I work out...That was nothing. That's just my arms. My legs are really strong. Wanna see?" At this point, I'd already been embarrassed several times. One more time wouldn't matter and I was curious. "Okay." Tracy turned around so her back was to me and squatted down low. "Climb on my back. I'm going to do squat-jumps with you." I positioned my legs over her arms and wrapped my arms around her neck, not knowing what a squat-jump was. Then Tracy lept up off the floor like a frog, taking me with her. She landed back down in a squatting position with me still on her back. She then proceeded to squat-jump around the room, giving me the most emasculating ride of my life. The muscular power in her legs was so intimidating I began to feel nauseous. Her legs were huge and frightfully strong. In a terrifying display of brute strength that I didn't think a young girl was capable of, she squat-jumped me around the room like a frog from hell. All the while, giggling, apparently delighted by her own awesome leg strength. It was too much. I began to cry. "What's wrong, Tom? I just want you to like me." I didn't know what to make of this. "Tom...Please, don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry." I was now not only embarrassed at having been embarrassed by this young girl, but I was embarrassed that she felt the need to try and comfort me. "Tracy...I just..." "Sh-Sh-Sh...It's okay..." She plopped me back on the couch and then she slid down next to me, very close. Too close, I thought. She kicked off her little socks so she was in her bare feet and I have to admit, her strong legs were beginning to look pretty damn good to me. I realized what she was aiming to do and I said, "Tracy, no..." "I could make, you know..." And then she did. She swung one muscular thigh over mine, trapping my soft leg and then she pulled my head down forcefully to her face. My neck could not fight her strong arm. She kissed me...She was new at it, but man, was she good. I began to feel her fit body, all hard with muscle. This sawed-off strong girl sure knew how to take me. She was irresistable. Then she pulled away and stood up. I looked at her short little body, her diesel muscles that made her stronger than me. She took my hands in hers. I felt her strong, dominant grip. She pulled me up off the sofa and looked into my eyes very seriously. Then she began to lead me upstairs. A couple of times I tried to dig in and stop us. Tracy just overwhelmed me with her powerful legs. It was no use. This was going to happen. Tracy was too strong.