Tomboy by brooksie brooksie@pacificcoast.net Humiliated by a thirteen year old tomboy I was checking out the farmer's market on a beautiful Saturday morning when I spotted her. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen years old and, for her age, incredibly muscular. She was probably under five feet tall, with amazingly wide shoulders, big arms with quite noticeable biceps and thick, wiry forearms. She had on a tank top that showed off a chiselled abdomen and tiny demin cut-offs. Her legs were powerful looking, with thighs that rippled when she walked and softball-sized calves that flexed impressively with each step. I had rarely seen a grown woman with that kind of muscle definition, let alone a little girl like this. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was with a couple of friends and I tried to appear nonchalant as I followed them around the market. The girl was full of energy and seemed to be a bit of a tomboy, playfully lifting her friends off their feet and proudly showing them her big arm muscle. I began to feel like a dirty old man and was afraid someone would notice me following the girls, so I forced myself to go in a different direction and, reluctantly, lost sight of them. After walking through the crafts area and sampling some homemade pie with ice cream, I sat down to listen to a couple of musicians, a fiddler and guitar player. Eventually they took a break and I decided to get away from the crowd for a while before loading up on fresh fruit and veggies and heading home. The market was in a field just off the highway, with a few outbuildings and a paved parking lot. Near the back of the market, I had spotted a trail leading past a grove of trees and down towards the river. I followed it past the trees where it turned right and went through a second, more densely forrested area, then twisted again and ended at a small meadow that looked like it might be a horse pasture, although I didn't see any horses. The river was on the other side. As I came out of the woods and into the meadow I saw the little muscle girl and her friends sitting on a split rail fence. I was surprised and stopped for a second. She looked directly at me but didn't say anything. Again, I couldn't seem to pry my eyes off her. I started to feel awkward and said something about her having big muscles for a girl her size. She was obviously proud of them and responded by flexing her arms. It was astonishing. Unflexed, her arm was thick and athletic-looking but contracted, her bicep muscl seemed to jump up from out of nowhere. It was about the sized of a large orange and had to be at least 14 inches. "That's pretty impressive," I said, "What are you, about twelve?" "I'm thirteen," she replied. "You must do a lot of sports." I said, hoping to prolong the conversation. "She does everything." one of her friends piped up. "Yeah, you should see all her trophies." added the other girl. "Really," I said, "What are your favourite sports?" "Well," she said, "when I was little I really liked gymnastics and tumbling. Now I like track & field, swimming and playing soccer. Our team won first place this year." She looked at her two friends, who broke into huge grins and held their fingers up saying, "We're number one." They were obviosuly teammates. "But," she continued, "my favourite sport is wrestling." "Wrestling? Really?" I asked incredulously. "She can beat any boy in our school. They're all afraid of her," her friends giggled. "I'm going to go out for the high school wrestling team next year. The school says girls aren't allowed but my Dad says we'll take them to court if they don't let me try out," she told me. I looked at her and said I didn't know if she'd make the team, even if she got the chance. "Boys are a lot bigger in high school," I added. She fixed me with a calm, level gaze. Neither of us spoke and her noticed her friends fell silent too. It was like one of those gunfighter showdown scenes in a "B" Western. "Are they bigger than you?" she asked. "I don't know." I said "I guess some of them may be. Why?" I had no idea she was about to challenge me and was completely stupified when she said, "Well, I could take you no problem, so I should be able to beat them, right?" "What do you mean, you could take me?" I asked scornfully, "You're just a little girl." "But I'm stronger and know more about wrestling. Wanna try me?" she offered. I frowned and turned away thinking I should leave before this got out of hand. She was only thirteen. Legally, I couldn't touch her. "What's the matter, you chicken?" she taunted. "You shouldn't have showed him your muscles," one of her friends laughed. "Now he's afraid, too." "I'm not afraid," I said, "It's just..." I was unable to finish my sentence. The second she heard me say I wasn't scared of her she yelled "Good!" and launched herself off the top rail of the fence. She landed and broke into a full run, heading straight towards me. I had no idea what was coming, so I just stood there. When she was almost on me, about six feet away, she jumped up and hit me square in the chest with both feet, executing a perfect flying drop kick. Her tremendous momentum caused me to hit the ground with such force that the wind was knocked out of me. Gasping, I got to my hands and knees but couldn't rise. The next thing I felt was her arm around my neck pulling me onto my side, right into her waiting legs, which clamped around my waist in a scissors hold. She them leaned forward and wrapped my head up in a reverse headlock and pulled it tight against her side. Her final move was to hook her free arm over my top arm, the one which wasn't already pinned beneath our combined weight, and pull it back, twisting my torso and allowing her to dig her knees right under my ribs. I had wrestled plenty of girlfriends who liked to use the body scissors on me but most had no idea how to properly apply it and wasted all their strength trying to squeeze my hips, bending their knees or something else completely ineffective. Others knew at least enough to get their legs around the stomach and straighten them, to take full advantage of their strength, but this scissors was in a totally different league than any I had felt before. She was obviously a lot stronger in the leg department than any of my girlfriends had been. Her power was overwhelming and I was already in a lot of pain. She periodically relaxed her legs to keep them from cramping but I got no more than a few seconds reprieve before she turned on the power again. She had my head and my arms trapped and I was in no position to mount any kind of defence. My leverage had been completely taken away, leaving me unable to do anything but kick my feet like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. What made it worse is that is that she seemed to be doing this to me with little effort at all, carrying on a running commentary about how easy it was for her to beat me. "I told you I could take you. What's the matter, I thought you were a big, tough man? she taunted. "Is the little girl kicking your butt?" She laughed and continued her verbal jabbing "Come on, I can't even feel you trying. Come on, try. Try to get out of this. Let's see you do something." It was just a cruel game to her. She knew I was absolutely defencless. I would feebly wriggle around a bit, coming nowhere close to freeing myself, while she continued to mock me. "Ooh, feel that power. I'm so afraid." Meanwhile her friends had come over to stand beside us and joined in the verbal abuse. "This guy's in deep shit," said one, "she's got him helpless." "Yeah, look at that," said the other, "he can hardly move. And listen to him. He's all out of breath." I had stopped struggling and was just trying to keep breathing, nothing more. I knew I was at her mercy. "I think he's finished." one of the girls said. "Should I let him go?" "Make him say uncle first." "You heard her wimpy, say uncle." "Uncle!" I yelled, my ribs on fire. "Do you give?" "Yes, you win." "Who's muscles are stronger?" "Yours are." She said nothing but continued to tighten her hold on me. I stared to feel nauseous and scared. She didn't even seem to be going all out. She wasn't grunting, straining or even breathing hard. I didn't even plan to say it, the words just came out. "Please," I begged, "Please let me go. I can't take anymore, please stop." "Let you go? Why should I? You should be able to get yourself out of this since you say I can't even beat a high school boy. Come on, fight!" she demanded. "I can't! Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said. You're very strong and a very good wrestler." "Better than a high school boy?" "Yes." "And better than you?" "Yes, much better. Please, I've had enough. You are the best." "He's a total wimp," said one of her friends. "You should make him kiss your feet and beg for mercy," chimed in the other one. "Yeah, that would be cool," her friend agreed enthusiastically. With that, she relaxed her hold and asked "Did you hear that?" I didn't answer and was again crushed by her powerful legs. "I said, did you hear that?" she asked, more forcefully. "Yes, yes I heard." I said. "Are you going to do it?" "Please don't make me." "I'm not going to make you," she said sweetly. "It's up to you. You can get on your knees, kiss my feet and apologize for doubting me or we can keep wrestling, although you seem like you've had enough of that, haven't you?" She squeezed her legs hard and jerked back on my head. "Yes I've had enough. No more please." I whispered, barely able to speak. "So, are you ready to get on your knees and beg for mercy?" "Yes" I said, nearly in tears "I'll do it, I'll do anything, anything you say, please, you're hurting me." "OK, but you better do what I say or I'll really hurt you. This was nothing." She unlocked her invincible hold and stood up, dusting herself off. As I lay on my back gasping for breath, she stuck a sneakered foot into my ribs and poked me. "On your knees, wimpy." she ordered. Shakily I rolled over and slowly got to my hands and knees. "Put you hands behind your back." she said in a commanding tone. I did so and watched her step closer. "Now, bend down and kiss both my feet and beg me for mercy." Every move I made caused horrendous pain but I did as I was told, pleading with her not to hurt me, apologizing for my ignorance and acknowledging her complete superiority. "Now kiss my friends' feet," she demanded. They stuck their feet in front of my face and I kissed them too. "Now stand up." I got to my feet and one of her friends reached around from behind me and undid the button on my shorts, while the other one yanked them down. With my shorts around my ankles it was an easy matter for the girl to stick a leg out and trip me onto my back. Then my thirteen year old conqueress climbed onto my chest and placed her knees on my arms. She didn't even bother to hold my wrists down. Instead she raised her arms and flexed them. Looking up at her her biceps seemed even larger than before, impossibly large for a girl her size. She looked down and saw my eyes wide with amazement and fear and smiled. I guess that was the reaction she was looking for. She leaned down and, in a firm tone of voice said, "Now, me and my friends are going swimming. You will stay on your back until we are gone. If I see you getting up I will come back and this time, I won't have any mercy on you. Do you understand, wimpy." I nodded, terrified. "Come on" she said to her friends "let's go swimming. I need to wash his wimpy sweat off me." The three of them burst into laughter and ran off. I lay on my back for a very long time.