SKY-HIGH SCISSORS
By Kandor



    Hi. My name is Kimmy, and I'm a flight attendant who has a rather unique 
way of dealing with air rage: I scissor the shit out of assholes who are 
trouble in the sky. Let me explain.
    I'm a dirty blonde, tall at around 5-8 or so, lean and mean at 120 pounds 
with these legs that any guy would go nuts over. I work out a lot and wear my 
uniforms a little short to show off my muscular thighs, and also wear shoes 
with heels to pump up the calves. I got legs and I know how to use 'em, to 
quote the song.
    Case in point: Last week, this businessman was flying first class, real 
asshole, demanding, half in the bag, wanting to know why we're not getting to 
Boston on time, what's taking so long, really busting my chops. I tried to be 
tactful at first, but it didn't work. And the angrier he got, the more my 
thighs and calves felt pumped and ready for action.
    "Sir, if you don't behave yourself and sit down," I ordered him as he 
stood and approached the cockpit to find out why we were circling Boston so 
much, a big no-no in the air, "I'll have to restrain you."
    He turned and laughed. He was big, over 6 feet, and 200 pounds, but I've 
never met a neck yet I couldn't tame with these legs.
    "Fuck you, cunt, you think you own the plane," he growled, turning to put 
a hand on the cockpit door. "Fuck you, I own the plane, I'm the paying 
customer!"
    His hand never touched down, but my legs did. I gripped an overheard 
compartment ledge, swung my legs up and wrapped my nylon-clad legs around his 
neck from behind, powering down and locking up my dress shoes in front of his 
face. He gacked out a yelp and I squeezed harder.
    "I got 17 inch calves, buddy, those are bodybuilder size calves on a 
fitness model body," I hissed, thundering my legs out straight until I 
bulldogged him to the floor and slid down to stand on crossed feet, my iron 
calves slicing deeper into his neck. "If I wanna knock you out, you WILL go 
out!! Now, you gonna behave??"
    "F......uck.........yo......" he gagged, his big hands pawing at my 
chiseled calves, trying to pull them off.
    "I was hoping you'd say that," I cooed.
    I fell back into a seat - his seat - and pulled up his head to my thighs, 
ribboning the sinewy adductor muscles onto his ears, locking up my feet and 
powering down, lifting myself off the seat as I did. He screamed in pain, 
screams drowned out by the drone of the plane's engines. Other first-class 
customers peered around their seats - and burst into applause.
    "Bout time somebody shut that asshole," one middle-aged woman said. "Hurt 
him, honey, really put the squeeze on!"
    I laughed and redoubled my efforts to knock him out, crushing hard with 
my inner thighs. I motioned to the woman to stand in front of the man. She 
did.
    "Mash his balls," I growled. "Just haul back and waste this fucker's 
nuts!"
    "Gladly, sweetie," the woman smiled.
    She cocked her leg and let her loafered foot fly, toes first, into the 
guy's balls. He screamed in agony, only to have his cries cut off in 
mid-scream by a 100-percent squeeze from my scissoring thighs. The ropy inner 
meat of them instantly sliced into his arteries and he was out cold. I 
quivered my thighs off his face and stood up to the applause of the other 
first-class passengers. I did a cute little curtsy, then hauled the sleeping 
man into his seat, buckling him in.
    He never gave me a second more of trouble after that. I'm telling you, I 
have a way with people, maybe that's why I'm such a good flight attendant.