Annabelle Returns: The Humiliation of Stephen
By Littlesilverstar, silverstar222b@yahoo.com
Alpha female model dominates, omega male loser loses


Annabelle parked her black BMW 7-Series near the entrance to the secluded park
and checked her watch, a large, silver man's Rolex that hung slightly loose on
her feminine but muscular wrist. Right on time. She brought up the ad on her
iPhone and reread it one last time.

"Female spokesmodel, age 21 to 30, wanted for Triumphant Sporting Goods. Must
be at least 5'7", slender, very athletic with visible muscle tone, feminine,
exceptionally attractive (10s only), a good conversationalist, and have a high
IQ. Latinas, Southeast Asians, and darkly tanned Caucasians preferred. The
successful candidate will have experience and talent in a wide variety of
sports - the more the better. The chosen applicant will be offered a one-year
contract as spokesmodel for Triumphant Sporting Goods, with base compensation
of $250,000, plus 1% of Triumphant's entire sales for that year."

She smiled. It was no surprise that she was one of the three finalists for the
position, out of the thousands of young women who had applied. Out of those
thousands, several dozen models' portfolios had been selected for preliminary
interviews. Those, the swimsuit competition, the intelligence test, and the
final interview round had each successively narrowed the field of candidates.
She was so close. With Triumphant's annual sales numbers in seven figures, she
was looking at making at least half a million, maybe three-quarters of a
million, in a single year. Not bad for a former working-class girl who had
already risen high in the cutthroat world of modeling.

Annabelle stepped out of her car and looked at her reflection in the windows
of the vehicle. With her long, silky black hair, dark brown eyes,
high-cheekboned face, ultra-perky 34B tits, and round, hard ass, she was
definitely a 10 out of 10. At 5'8", she was very tall for a Filipina girl, and
the rare combination of her height and ethnic background had helped a lot with
getting modeling work. Her 128-pound figure with 25-inch waist and 35-inch
hips was perfectly proportioned. Her outfit of black ankle boots, low-cut
white pants, a brown leather belt, a white blouse with three-quarter length
sleeves (no bra underneath as her ultra-firm breasts didn't require one), and
a black spiked leather bracelet on her right wrist, to complement the Rolex on
her left, gave her a strong but feminine look, and really showed off how dark
and sexy her tanned skin was. Her hard six-pack abs were showing in the gap
between her pants and top.

Two other tall, stunning women were standing there. As they introduced
themselves, Annabelle checked out her competition. Paige, at 5'10" and 130
pounds, was the tallest of the trio, with classic shoulder length blonde hair,
blue eyes, and a deep tan. Lola was a 5'9", 132-pound Latina beauty with long
dark brown hair and a buxom C-cup chest. Her tan was darker than Paige's, but
not as dark as her own, Annabelle noted with some satisfaction. Both of her
fellow competitors were amazingly hot and very athletic-looking, but neither
could match her level of muscle tone. It would be a tough contest, but she
thought she could pull off the victory. It would all come down to how well her
sports skills matched up against theirs. As it should.

Aside from the models, there were two guys and another woman. The woman was a
tall, older, attractive, cougar-looking type with auburn hair. She introduced
herself as Veronica, the executive vice president of the company and the
person in charge of running the contest, then pointed to her companions. The
first guy, a normal-looking young man named Roger, was carrying a video camera
and would be recording the competition to gather footage for use in promoting
the eventual winner. The other guy, a short, skinny, dorky-looking fellow, was
a summer intern named Stephen, who was there to help set up the equipment.

* * *

Stephen could hardly believe his luck, after the summer had started out so
badly. He had been looking forward to three months of playing video games and
jacking off to female muscle porn on the Internet while college was out.
Instead, his parents had insisted that he take this summer internship at the
corporate headquarters of the sporting goods company.

He had been miserable for the past several weeks. Part of it was the position
- he had to do all the stereotypical annoying and tedious intern tasks like
filing, getting people coffee, and cleaning up after people when they spilled
their coffee. But the biggest cause of his misery was his continuous failure
with the opposite sex. Most of the other workers in the office were women, and
most of them were young and attractive. At first, he thought he could flirt
with them and maybe even score and finally lose his virginity. As the weeks
had gone by, he had lowered his expectations to being able to hang out with
the girls outside of work, then to being able to have friendly conversations
with them at lunch, and finally to just getting some basic respect. But even
that was not forthcoming. The girls would either ignore him, make
condescending remarks to his face, or make whispered remarks behind his back.
Just because he was short, and weak, and geeky, and pale, and unattractive,
and socially awkward, he brooded.

Only Veronica had shown him anything close to respect. She said good morning
to him when she saw him, and occasionally asked how he was doing. But because
she was the executive VP and he was just an intern, they had very little
contact with one another.

Until today. Because her regular assistant was out sick, Veronica had asked
him to help her with her project. Although he had briefly been disappointed
earlier on the ride over to the park because she had been chatting and perhaps
even flirting a little with Roger, the cameraman, and ignoring him, he had
become thrilled upon learning that three insanely hot female models would be
there. He had become even more aroused when he had found out that the models
would be competing in contests of athletic skill. Stephen had always been
attracted to strong, athletic, dominant women. Although he didn't fully
realize it, his attraction to them was mainly motivated schmoe-style by the
fact that they could do stereotypically "masculine" things that he could never
do.

Now, as he prepared to watch the start of the contest, Stephen's heart was
pounding. He was already thinking of lines to use on the models after the
competition was over, trying to come up with the best way to express his
extreme attraction to their strength and skill. The fact that all three models
had ignored him and hadn't even said hi didn't bother him. Surely they would
like him when they found out he was more turned on by their athleticism than
their tits or asses, right? He was already developing a special hard-on for
the Filipina chick, Annabelle. Although all three models were physically
perfect specimens, Annabelle had something extra - her amazing muscle tone,
her gorgeous dark brown tan, that naturally dominant look in her eyes - that
made her irresistible. Although he knew he could never have sex with her, he
was hoping for at least a little fun flirting.

Oh, if only he had known the humiliation he was in store for. He would have
been so happy with the models just ignoring him.

* * *

Veronica explained the rules. "It's quite simple, really. There will be four
events, each worth a pre-determined amount of points. Whichever model finishes
with the most points will get the contract. All three of you ladies have
everything it takes for the job. You're all stronger and more athletic than
most guys, while still remaining feminine. Now we just need to find out who
can pull it off the best."

"Woo hoo!" cheered Lola. "Girl power!"

"May the best woman win!" Paige added.

"I wish there was a guy here we could compete against," said Annabelle. At
those words, Stephen froze in fear. And when Veronica spoke, his greatest
terror became reality.

"Well, we do have one," said Veronica. "Stephen, why don't you join these
ladies in the competition? Just for fun."

A cold chill ran down Stephen's spine. All his life, he had been weak and
unathletic and picked on because of it, by both boys and girls. Almost every
girl could outplay him at almost every sport, and he had suffered many a
humiliation at the hands of athletic and even not-so-athletic girls. It was
one of his worst nightmares. It was one of the reasons why he had been so
resentful at having to work for the sporting goods company, even though his
job just involved office work. Until now.

There was another side to his feelings. Because of his attraction to strong
women, Stephen would secretly get turned on whenever a girl beat him at
something men were stereotypically supposed to be better at. He had spent many
a night jacking off in his room to girls like the one who had lifted a heavy
box that he couldn't budge, or the one who had thrown a softball so hard that
it had broken a bone in his hand, or the one who had challenged him to a fight
and knocked him out with a kick to his face. But although he had gotten a
great deal of physical pleasure from this in private, here in public it would
be an even greater humiliation than his physical inferiority.

"Well, um, I don't think...why do I..."

"Roger has to run the camcorder, and you're the only other guy here," said
Veronica, starting to sound a little impatient. That filled Stephen with a
renewed sense of dread. Veronica was the only pretty woman in his life who
showed him the remotest bit of kindness. If that went away, he had nothing.
Absolutely nothing.

Trying to come up with something, he held up his notepad and said, "Someone
has to keep score..."

Veronica laughed. "I can do that!" she said, snatching the notepad and pen out
of his hands. "I'm not one of those executives who needs other people to do
everything for them. Now get out there."

Hoping and praying that this wouldn't be worse than the charity softball game
when he was 17, where he had been struck out four times in a row by four
different eleven-year-old girls, Stephen took his position next to the models.
At 5'5", he was three to five inches shorter than them and an inch shorter
than Napoleon. Paige gave him a condescending smile. Lola simply shook her
head. But Annabelle had a strange expression on her elegant face, an
expression that he couldn't read.

"On to the contest," announced Veronica. "The first event is basketball. A
simple game of horse. Once someone gets all five letters, the others get three
points for each letter they don't have. Speaking of three points, the first
shot will be a standard three-pointer. Lola, you're up first. We'll rotate
after each shot."

Lola tossed her long, perfectly coiffed dark brown hair confidently. She
caught the ball Veronica tossed to her, paused for just a second, and launched
her shot, sinking it in cleanly. The sexy Latina celebrated with a gangster
"tough girl" pose.

"Nice shot," said Veronica. "Annabelle, you're up next."

Annabelle took a deep breath. She shot hoops with her male friends from time
to time, but basketball wasn't one of her big sports. She launched her shot
and pumped her fist when it went in.

Paige made her shot effortlessly. Then it was Stephen's turn. He tried to calm
his nerves by dribbling the ball a couple of times, but ended up bouncing the
ball off of his foot, sending it rolling away. As he chased after it, he heard
the models laughing at him. When he finally took his shot, it ended up being
an air ball, leading to more laughter.

"Okay," said Veronica. "After the first round, Stephen has H, no one else has
anything. Next shot will be kicking the ball into the net. Annabelle, you're
first this time."

Annabelle grinned. Her kicks were famous for their accuracy. Sure enough, her
perfectly aimed boot sent the ball straight through the net. Paige's kick
missed just to the right. Stephen humiliated himself again by missing the ball
completely on his first attempt, then by making a weak, low kick that didn't
even get the ball close.

"At least he actually hit it the second time!" Lola mocked. She coolly
drop-kicked the ball into the net and raised her toned arms in triumph.

"Stephen has H-O, Paige has H. Next shot will be blindfolded."

Paige made her blindfolded shot, letting out a squeal of glee and surprise. Of
course Stephen missed, by a mile. Lola barely missed, the ball rolling around
the edge of the rim before bouncing out. Annabelle, not letting Paige's score
intimidate her, drilled her blind shot. "Stephen has H-O-R, Paige and Lola
have H."

The next round was a desperation heave from half-court, which everyone missed.
"Stephen has H-O-R-S, Paige and Lola have H-O, Annabelle has H. Okay, this
next one should be easy - a simple free throw."

Lola, Annabelle, and Paige all made their shots easily. Then it was Stephen's
turn. He knew he had already lost. He was just hoping to make this one, or at
least not get another...

"AIR BALL!" came the taunts from all three models as he did it again. Roger
was laughing from behind the video camera, and even Veronica was trying to
hide a giggle. Stephen turned bright red.

"All right! At the end of the first event, Annabelle has the lead with 12
points. Lola and Paige, you each have nine, and Stephen has zero." Annabelle
pumped her fist again. If she could take the lead in a sport she hadn't
devoted a lot of time to, she was in good shape.

Stephen, on the other hand, felt like throwing up. He had already been
humiliated far worse than he thought he was going to be, and they were only
one event in. He wanted to hate the models for taunting him, but they were
just too sexy and he was still too attracted to them. Instead, he glared over
at Roger. The photographer wasn't tall or handsome or super-strong, he was
just average. Oh, how he wished he was average too, a guy who got sex three or
four times a month, a guy who could at least flirt with models if he couldn't
have sex with them. He wanted to yell at Roger, to tell him to come out from
hiding behind the video camera and join the contest, but he knew that Roger
would beat him easily, although the models would probably do better than him.

"Next event!" announced Veronica. "Football." Annabelle's expression was
neutral. She played tackle football occasionally with her male friends, but
again it wasn't something she was super experienced with. Stephen's expression
was neutral too, but for a different reason. It really didn't matter what the
sport was, he was terrible at all of them. Paige, however, was smiling
broadly. "I was the starting quarterback on my high school football team. An
all boys' team, except for me," the blonde bragged.

"Well, you talk the talk. We'll see if you can walk the walk when it's your
turn. Annabelle, you're up first," said Veronica, as they all walked from the
basketball court to the football field. "Down there at 30, 40, and 50 yards
are small circles on the grass. Your objective is to throw the football into
those circles. The 30 yard is worth two points, the 40 yard is worth four, and
the 50 yard is the touchdown, worth six points. You'll need both arm strength
and accuracy. After that, you'll attempt the extra point, which will be a
field goal from the new standard NFL distance of 33 yards. Good luck."
Veronica jogged down the field so she could return the throws the models made.

Annabelle tossed the ball into the 30 and 40 yard circles easily. She paused
before the final attempt. She knew she was capable of throwing a football
fifty yards - she had done it many times (impressing her male friends, most of
whom could not) - but the accuracy would be difficult at that distance. She
heaved the ball with all her strength. It traveled far enough, but landed just
to the left of the circle. "Shit," she swore.

Veronica threw the ball back. She had been able to do the 30 and 40 yard
throws fine, but had to step forward a little for the 50. That made Annabelle
feel a little better. Then Veronica held the ball for the Filipina beauty's
field goal try, which she made dead center. "Seven points for Annabelle.
Paige, your turn."

The tall blonde caught Veronica's throw easily with one hand. Not saying a
word, she coolly drilled all three throws, making even the 50-yard one look
effortless. Her extra point was good as well. "Thirteen points for Paige. A
perfect score this round. Looks like you can walk the walk." Annabelle
scowled. She had just lost the lead. Then she smirked. Stephen was up next.
That should definitely be good for a laugh.

Sure enough, Stephen humiliated himself again. His throws were so weak that
they barely traveled half the distance to the nearest circle. When he tried to
kick his field goal, he slipped and landed flat on his ass. Annabelle, Lola,
Paige, and Roger were all rolling with laughter. Veronica simply shook her
head. "Okay, Lola, your turn," she said, when the models' snickering had
finally stopped.

Lola made her 30 and 40 yard throws, but wasn't quite able to launch the
football 50 yards, as it fell down just a few feet in front of the circle. She
made her extra point, however, so she got seven points. Veronica announced the
updated scores. "Halfway through this competition, Paige is now in the lead
with 22 points. Annabelle is in second with 19, Lola has 16, and Stephen still
has zero. The third event is gymnastics."

Annabelle grinned. She had been a Level 9 gymnast. Her grin turned to a frown,
however, when Lola cheered loudly. "All right! I was a Level 10 gymnast."

"This one is very simple," declared Veronica. "Do as many standing back
handsprings in a row as you can. Each handspring is worth one point. Paige,
it's your turn to go first. Have any gymnastics experience?"

"Not any of the fancy stuff. But I've done some stunt girl work and I learned
how to do back flips." Paige managed 14 back handsprings, earning herself 14
points.

Stephen simply pouted and looked at the ground. "I can't flip. That's such a
specialized skill."

"Aw, quit your whining, you little fag," sneered Roger. "Maybe if you were a
woman that would be a legitimate excuse. Very few adult women can do back
handsprings. That's why these models are so special. But any man - any REAL
man, anyway - should be able to learn them. Watch this." He set the video
camera down, then executed three standing back handsprings. "See?"

"All right, there's no need for name calling," said Veronica. "Stephen, you
don't even want to try?"

Stephen shook his head. "Okay," said Veronica, shrugging. "Lola, you're up."

The hot Latina could barely contain her excitement. "Watch and learn.
Especially you, loser," she taunted Stephen. With that, Lola began elegantly
backflipping like a pro-gymnast, nailing one perfect lightning-fast back
handspring after another. She flick-flacked almost halfway down the field,
finishing with 27 back handsprings. Just to show off, she did a series of
front handsprings and cartwheels back to the group.

"Last up, Annabelle." The darkly tanned beauty sighed. She knew she couldn't
match Lola's score. She did do 19 standing back handsprings, however.

"Okay, scores after three events," Veronica announced. "Lola has taken the
lead with 43 points. Annabelle has 38, Paige has 36, and Stephen still has
zero." Stephen, although humiliated, was becoming very aroused at seeing these
beautiful women throw far and kick well and do back flips. He was at least
glad he had worn his baggy pants, which hid his hard-on, though he was not
glad that his cock was small. His rod grew stiffer as the sexy cougar Veronica
tried back flips just for fun, managing to do four back handsprings in a row,
beating Roger's score.

"Last event," Veronica called out. "Shooting. Triumphant Sporting Goods makes
a large part of its profits from the sale of firearms and ammunition, and the
model that wins the contract will be expected to make many videos showing off
her markswomanship."

Annabelle's face lit up. "Yes!" she thought to herself. She was an expert
markswoman, having done promotional videos for firearm dealers as well as
shooting recreationally and competitively. Although she was sure Lola and
Paige were experienced shooters too - almost every pretty woman, especially a
model, was one in these modern times - she doubted they could match her level
of experience.

"This event will be in four rounds, each with a different weapon. Targets are
set up over there. First weapon is handgun. Eight shots, eight bottles to hit,
each hit worth one point. Simple. Stephen, you're up." The auburn-haired older
woman reached into a large bag lying on the ground beside her and handed him a
pistol. He took the weapon very nervously. It was clear he had no idea what he
was doing.

"Um...you do know how to shoot, right?" Veronica asked.

"Er...actually...I never...I've always been kind of scared by them..."
Although he played a lot of video games with guns, the thought of a real one
frightened him for some reason.

Lola, Paige, Roger, and Annabelle all broke into loud laughter. "Look at him,
like a scared little girl!" Roger sneered.

"Hey, don't insult scared little girls by comparing them to a chickenshit like
him," laughed Lola.

"Yeah," added Paige. "I taught my little sister to shoot. She's kind of
nervous around guns, but even she looks like more of a man with them than he
does."

Annabelle simply looked at Stephen and said, "Wimp." He hung his head.

Veronica sighed. "I thought every man would know, or at the very least not be
scared of...well, anyway, let me show you." She took the pistol, loaded it,
chambered a round, and flicked the safety off. "There, ready to go."

Stephen tried to aim at the first bottle. He jerked the trigger. As the gun
went off, the heavy recoil from the .45 caliber weapon, combined with his
unskilled grip and weak, girly wrists, caused it to jump and strike him right
in the face. With a high-pitched, incredibly gay sounding squeal, he dropped
the pistol. There was dead silence for a moment.

Then came the laughter. It was louder than any other that had happened that
day, and it came from everyone, even Veronica.

"Seriously? What a PUSSY!" Lola gasped out between giggling fits.

"He's just a walking comedy of errors," Paige smirked.

"Dude, just call a bowling alley or something. They've got lots of balls, and
yours are obviously missing," Roger taunted the smaller man.

"Weakling can't handle a .45," snickered Annabelle. "I was shooting those when
I was 11. Maybe he should try something more in the caliber of...oh, I don't
know...maybe a water pistol?"

Veronica had managed to stop laughing. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "but I
just couldn't help it. It was like something straight out of those old
slapstick shows. Look, Stephen, just try to finish, okay? I'll stand close to
you."

"Not too close," Lola warned, still giggling.

Stephen tried hard, but he missed every bottle, none of his attempts even
coming close. He held his thin wrists in pain after each shot. "Okay, this
used to be funny, but now it's just pathetic," said Annabelle.

Lola and Annabelle both went 8-for-8 with perfect runs. Paige missed her last
bottle, cursing as she finished with seven. Although all three girls were
slender, each had enough wrist strength that the recoil didn't bother them at
all.

"Next up," said Veronica. "Something a little more exotic - a crossbow. This
is all or nothing. You have one shot and you must hit an apple on the head of
a dummy. If you hit the dummy, or you miss completely, you get nothing. If you
hit the apple it's worth five points."

Annabelle's face lit up again. She was a bow hunter and experienced with both
crossbows and compound bows. She was slightly disappointed, however, when
Paige and Lola both stated they were experienced archers as well.

Lola led off this time. After aiming a little too low and hitting the dummy in
the head, the sexy Latina let out a string of curses in English and Spanish.
Annabelle and Paige both made clean hits on their apples. Then it was
Stephen's turn.

"How's he going to humiliate himself this time?" Paige wondered out loud.

They soon found out. When he attempted to draw back the weapon, Stephen
discovered he didn't have enough strength to do it. The models and Roger
roared with laughter as Stephen kept trying and failing. Finally Veronica
tapped him on the shoulder. "Looks like you'll have to forefit this one."

"No difference, it's not like he would have hit it anyway," Annabelle
chuckled.

"Moving on to the next weapon. This one's going to be fun," said Veronica.
"Full auto AK-47. 30 round magazine and one target. Put as many rounds as you
can in it. It's harder than it looks, it's pretty small and far away. You have
to use full auto on this one, no semi-auto, and you have to fire it all in one
burst. We want to see how well our model can handle a machine gun. She has to
be able to do it without looking girly. I've practiced with it and I can do
pretty well, if I do say so myself. I can usually get around 24 or 25 rounds
out of 30 on target. I expect our model to be better than me. One-third of a
point for each hit. Annabelle, get us started."

The sexy Filipina took the assault rifle excitedly. She loved machine guns,
though she didn't get to shoot them as often as she wanted - usually only when
she went to machine gun shoots or visited a friend who had them. She hoped the
others wouldn't be too much more experienced than her. She did quite well,
however, emptying it in a single long burst, getting 27 rounds on target, her
strong forearms enabling her to control the weapon well.

Paige was next. She tied Annabelle's score of 27 hits. "Cool!" said the
blonde. "I have a lot of experience with guns, but I've never shot a full auto
before."

When it was Stephen's turn, Lola joked, "Everybody duck!" Stephen turned red,
but had no response, as he had shown himself to be a wuss and a fool many
times over.

"But seriously, is it safe to let him use that?" Paige asked.

"I think it will be, as long as I stand right behind him," Veronica answered.

Stephen was getting desperate. He knew he was doomed to come in dead last. All
he wanted was to put one single point on the scoreboard. But when he pulled
the trigger, the muzzle began climbing rapidly, since he wasn't strong enough
to control it. Veronica stood ready to intervene, but the rifle clicked empty
before she needed to. Unsurprisingly, he scored zero hits.

"All right, ladies," said Lola. "And bitches, or bitch," she added as she
stared right at Stephen. "I'm going to show you how it's done. I grew up in a
neighborhood where there were three kinds of girls: Girls who could outshoot
any man with a machine gun, girls who had to suck dick to get protection, and
dead girls. Guess which one I am." With that, the hot Latina showed off how
amazingly badass she was by firing the powerful weapon one-handed, the stock
pressed against her lower torso. In a single long burst, she put all 30 rounds
into the target.

"Nice shooting, Lola," said Veronica. "Okay, score update. Lola has the lead,
but just barely, with 61 points. Annabelle is nipping at her heels with 60,
and Paige is still very much in it with 57. Stephen, um, has zero. Now, the
final weapon. Shotgun. Each contestant will get three shells. There are two
clay pigeons to hit, and one broad side of a barn. Clay pigeons are worth
three each, barn is worth one. This is it. Final event, final round. Paige,
you're up."

The blonde coolly dispatched both of her pigeons. She then looked at the barn.
"What's the point? It's, like, impossible to miss."

"What was the point of the old extra point in the NFL, before they moved it
further away? It was impossible to miss, or so they said. But nothing's
impossible. Ask John Carney. Anyway, just shoot it, okay?" Veronica said.
Paige shrugged and fired, splattering number 6 shot dead center on the side of
the barn.

Then it was Stephen's turn. For the others, the barn was a formality. For him,
the pigeons were. He had no chance of hitting them, and everyone knew it. So
of course he missed both birds.

Veronica looked at Stephen as he looked at the barn. It hadn't been on the
original list of events. She had simply wanted to make something so
ridiculously easy that Stephen wouldn't have the humiliation of finishing with
a score of zero, so she had added it in at the last second.

Stephen took aim, fired, and...

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT! HE MISSED!" Paige shouted.

"How is that even POSSIBLE!" Roger wondered.

"It literally violates every known law of physics, and probably all of the
unknown ones too!" laughed Lola.

"Just when you think Stephen's scraped the bottom of the barrel, he finds a
way to sink a little lower. I guess that's his only talent," Annabelle
snickered.

Veronica just stood there with her mouth wide open. Instead of stopping his
humiliation and giving Stephen a tiny bit of pride, her stunt had instead
multiplied his embarrassment a thousandfold. She buried her face in her hands.

When the laughter finally died down, several minutes later, Veronica said,
"Er...remember, ladies, we do have a contest going here. Paige, you have 64
points, but you're out of events. Lola, you have 61, and you're up."

Lola took a deep breath as she held the shotgun ready. She wasn't that
experienced with shooting clays, so this wouldn't be one of her stronger
events. She tensed her firm muscles. "Pull," she called out.

Veronica unleashed the birds. Lola fired twice. One pigeon exploded in midair.
The other dropped to the ground...unhit.

"Fuck," cursed Lola. She loaded her third shell and hit the barn.

"Lola, that's 65 points for you. Paige, I'm sorry, but you're out. You've been
a great contender. Annabelle, you're up. This is it, for all the marbles.
Because you have 60 points, you have to hit both clay pigeons to win. The barn
doesn't matter, at least for you, so you may as well shoot it first."

Annabelle nodded. She loaded a single shell and fired at the barn, her pellets
impacting the same location Paige's and Lola's had. Then she loaded two more,
trying to keep her heart rate as low as possible. Although she was a very
calm, cool, and collected young woman, even she couldn't avoid some feelings
of pressure in a situation like this. She wished she had more experience with
this event. She did own a shotgun, but she only practiced with it about once a
month. It wasn't really one of her favorite weapons.

"Pull," she called out when she was ready.

For the last time, Veronica launched the clay pigeons. Annabelle fired twice,
breathing heavily. One...then two birds exploded! Annabelle let out a loud,
joyous shriek. She had done it! She had won!

FINAL SCORES

Annabelle: 67

Lola: 65

Paige: 64

Stephen: 0

* * *

She kept as calm a smile as she could on her face as she politely accepted the
congratulations from the others, wanting to do a wild celebration dance but
knowing it would be better if the model looked like a model employee in front
of Veronica. So she thanked Veronica for creating the contest as she shook the
older woman's hand, hugged Lola and Paige in the stereotypical way that
winning and losing beauty pageant contestants embraced, playfully but safely
flirted with Roger as he congratulated her in a manner that clearly showed his
attraction to strong, athletic alpha females. Only Stephen stood away from the
others, sulking and wallowing in his public humiliation.

After Paige and Lola had driven away in their own cars, Veronica said, "Okay,
Annabelle, here's what's going to happen next. I'll arrange a quick meeting
with our CEO so he can see our face for the next year, then I'll have human
resources go over all the paperwork with you. After that, I can give you a
tour of our facility if you like. We'll call you when we're ready to set up
your first assignment, which should be sometime next week."

The tall Filipina model nodded. "Sounds good."

"If you'll give me a ride in your car, we can go straight to corporate
headquarters so we don't waste any time. Roger and Stephen, could you pack the
equipment in the van, please? Just let me grab the guns - gotta keep those
secure - and I'll be right there, Annabelle."

As Veronica began placing the firearms one by one inside her large bag, her
cell phone rang. Stephen and Roger, working nearby packing the clays and other
targets in the van, could hear every word of her side of the conversation,
which she didn't seem to feel the need to keep quiet.

"Hello? Yes, it went very well, we have our winner. Her name is Annabelle.
Yes, we got some good video of the competition, too. Oh my God, you should
have been here. I had the intern I brought with me join the contest just for
fun, but I had no idea how funny it would end up being. He redefined the word
terrible. I mean, he couldn't do anything right. Literally nothing. He
literally finished with a score of zero. At first I felt sorry for him, so I
added an extra event on the spot involving hitting the broad side of a barn
with a shotgun just so he wouldn't end the day failing at absolutely
everything. But he missed it! I don't know how he did it, I'll show you the
video. There's a lot of other great stuff too, I won't spoil it all. I'll just
let you watch the film."

Stephen felt himself turning red with humiliation. Meanwhile, Roger had been
trying to think of something to say to taunt and emasculate Stephen further.
But as they listened to Veronica talk, Roger realized that the only thing he
had to do was look right at his victim and smirk.

Veronica continued to talk. "Fire him? No, there's no need for that. He's just
a summer intern, and anyway I'd like to show the video around the company. It
wouldn't be nearly as...meaningful if Stephen wasn't around for everyone
to...ah, tell him what they thought of it. You know, I tried to be nice to
him. I tried to be respectful, but now it's clear that he doesn't have a
single redeeming quality to be worthy of respect. If he had scored even one
point in the competition I wouldn't be doing this. You remember that intern we
had a couple years ago? Peter, AKA Acne Pete? The one who was a total Star
Trek geek and wimpy enough to lose to our skinny, unathletic female
receptionist at arm wrestling? Well, Stephen's way worse."

Roger's smirk had reached glorious levels. Stephen was quivering with utter
heartbreak. The one thing that had brightened his days at work was seeing
Veronica's pretty face smile at him and speak a few polite words. Now, even
that was gone. He had no girlfriend, of course - he had never had one - and no
female friends. Other guys - normal guys, guys like Roger - complained when a
girl "friendzoned" them. But Stephen would have given anything to just be
friends with a pretty girl, to be able to talk with her and have her trust
him. He was starting down the long, slow path to lowering his expectations in
all of life, not just with the attractive women at the company.

* * *

Seven-thirty that evening. To add insult to injury and make what was already
the worst day of his life even more horrible, he had had to stay late to
finish a massive amount of filing. It wasn't until now that he had finally
finished. Everyone except the night security guards had gone home over two
hours ago.

The video of his humiliating performance at the contest had gone around
quickly. All afternoon, the young, attractive women in the office had been
whispering and giggling, pointing at him. Some of them had come right up to
him and openly taunted him by offering to carry boxes for him or open his
water bottle for him. Before, the teasing had always been behind his back, and
the remarks to his face, though condescending, hadn't been openly mocking him.
But now, it was different. They were like wolves who had smelled a fatal
weakness in their prey. They smelled blood. And when she had left, Veronica
had simply walked right by him with a cold look on her face, not saying good
night or anything else. Stephen went out to his car (a shitty, nine-year-old
Nissan Versa) and just put his face down on the steering wheel, not wanting to
drive anywhere and just wanting to spend some time feeling sorry for himself.

The knock on his window startled him. He looked up and was even more startled
to see sexy Annabelle standing there. She motioned for him to roll down the
window. Puzzled and wondering what she wanted, he obeyed.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Y...yeah," he lied, stammering. He always stammered and got words wrong
whenever a pretty girl said anything to him.

"Listen," said Annabelle. "I just want to apologize for the things I said at
the competition today. Those other girls, Lola and Paige, and especially that
jerk cameraman Roger, were really getting into bullying you, and I just caved
in to peer pressure. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

If Stephen had been more intelligent, he would have seen that Annabelle's
story was full of holes. But he wasn't. He was a geek without the brains that
geeks usually had. In addition, he was desperate, absolutely desperate, for
some sort of kindness and friendship from a woman. So he fell for her act
hook, line, and sinker.

"T...that's okay. I forgive you."

"Look, I know you're feeling down right now, so do you want to go for a ride
and just talk? I'm going to be doing a lot of work for Triumphant Sporting
Goods and we may as well get to know each other."

Stephen wiped away the tears and sat up straight, his heart pounding. Talk?
One on one? Like a real friend? With an insanely hot girl? For a loser like
him, this was beyond his wildest dreams. "Yes!" he said, a little too loudly
and a lot too eagerly.

"Okay. We'll go in my car. It's right over there."

Stephen enviously admired Annabelle's shiny new black BMW 7-series as he
climbed into the passenger seat. He wished he could afford a car like that.
Although his parents were comfortably upper-middle class, they weren't handing
out cash for cars. "We're already paying for your college," they liked to say.
"Buy a car with your own money." So that was what he had done. The shitty old
Versa was the best thing he could afford. His internship paid minimum wage, as
had most of the other jobs he had held, and most of his disposable income was
spent on female muscle porn.

As she drove, Stephen decided that he had a perfect opportunity to ask
Annabelle all about the athletic, tomboyish things that she was good at, all
the fetishes that turned him on. Later, he planned to go back to his place and
think about those things as he jacked off.

"So...um...congratulations on winning the contest," he began. "You were really
good at...well, everything. Where did you learn all that stuff?"

She smiled and laughed. "Thanks. Well, I learned my throwing skills from
playing softball, my kicking skills from playing soccer and from kickboxing,
and my back flips from being a level 9 gymnast."

"Where did you learn to shoot so well?"

"Oh, my dad didn't want to worry about his pretty daughter getting attacked.
So he started teaching me about guns when I was little. I got into it and
practiced a lot and started entering competitions. Anyway, if you want to be a
successful model these days you have to be able to do stereotypically
masculine things as good as or better than a guy, and look feminine while
doing it. If you look at our resumes, almost every female model has firearms
experience."

"That's really cool." Stephen was trying to think of a way to express his
sexual attraction to muscular, athletic, feminine women without making the hot
model angry. He was so lost in his thoughts and the fact that he, Stephen the
geeky-ass loser, was actually riding, alone, in a BMW with a beautiful woman
that he wasn't paying attention to where she was taking him. He wasn't paying
attention to how she was driving him out of town, out far into the wilderness.

He went over his fetishes in his head. He had talked about the one about girls
who could throw far, the one about girls who were good with guns, and the one
about girls who could do back flips. That was three of his Big Four, as he
liked to call them. Just the last one now.

"So...um...your wrists and forearms are really thick for a slim woman. I guess
they help with doing back handsprings and shooting guns?"

Annabelle removed her right hand from the steering wheel and held her arm next
to Stephen's. Her forearm was exposed by the three-quarter length sleeve of
her blouse. It was indeed a suprisingly thick arm with well-defined muscles
that rippled when she made any movement. Veins were visible on the big
forearm, the black leather bracelet she was wearing covering up the thinnest
part of her wrist and making it look even larger than it would appear
otherwise, and her skin was tanned a very dark, even brown. Her arm looked
powerful and dominant next to Stephen's pale, thin, weak forearm with no
muscle tone.

"Hmm. Yeah, mine are a lot bigger than yours. Are you saying I have arms like
a man?"

"N...no," Stephen stuttered, not wanting to insult her. "I...uh ...I guess I
just have arms like a girl. I wish mine were more like yours. I could have
done at least a little better in those contests if my arms were bigger."

"Well, not every guy has to have muscular arms and be an expert at throwing
and shooting and doing gymnastics," she said. "Most of the guys I've dated
haven't been as good as I am at those things."

Stephen felt his heart jump with excitement. Of course he knew he could never
get a real date with her, but she seemed like she was okay with his lack of
athleticism and masculine skills. If he only knew how she really felt...And he
was about to find out very soon. Annabelle suddenly pulled the car over,
parking it by the side of the road.

"Where are we?" Stephen asked, the thought of their location entering his mind
for the first time.

"That doesn't really matter. Come on, let's go. Follow me."

He obeyed, not sure what was going on but stupidly ignoring all the signs that
he was in danger as he let her lead him out of sight of the road. He was
thinking with his little head instead of the proper one, in awe of how hot
Annabelle was and how cool it was that he was out here alone with her.

"Close your eyes," she whispered. "I have a surprise for you." His heart
pounding, wondering what it was, again he obeyed.

There was nothing but faint breathing and the sweet scent of her perfume for a
few seconds. Then, suddenly, there was a fiery pain in his groin. His eyes
flew open as he screamed. Sure enough, Annabelle had kneed him in the crotch.
He collapsed to the ground in the fetal position, his hands on his brutalized
testicles. When he could finally speak, he cried out, "Why?!"

She sneered down at him. The phony warmth was gone from her still stunning
face. Now, she was unleashed. Now, she could show this dweeb what she really
was. "Because you're a disgusting, wimpy, pathetic, sexually degenerate little
chickenshit. And you're retarded, too. I can't believe you fell for my
bullshit apology. I was actually kind of doubting it would work, but your
stupidity came through." She kicked him hard in the side with her booted foot,
cracking one of his ribs.

"But I thought you said...not every guy has to be...great athlete and have big
arms and be super tough and masculine...said you dated guys that were less
athletic..."

Annabelle laughed and stomped on his face with her size 10 black boot. As he
cried out like a girl, she said, "If I only dated guys who were more athletic
than me, I'd have a ridiculously tiny pool of dates to choose from. But just
because I go out with guys who aren't as strong as I am doesn't mean that I
don't hate total wusses like you. I still expect a guy to have some physical
skills and masculinity. Like being able to throw a football just 30 yards,
being able to handle the recoil from a .45, being able to make a free throw or
at least not air ball it, and literally being able to hit the broad side of a
barn. You're literally the wimpiest, most pathetic, douchiest wanker I've ever
had the displeasure of meeting. You're even worse than the pervert I beat up a
few weeks ago, and probably even more perverted, the way you're so into all
those weird fetishes like girls who can do back flips or girls with big
wrists. And girls with guns. Like this." Annabelle suddenly pulled out a
pistol and pointed it straight at Stephen's face. "Recognize it?"

It was the .45 from the competition. The one that had contributed a large part
to his humiliation.

"Where...How did you...When Veronica finds out you took..." he stammered.

She grabbed him by his neck, yanking it upward, and smashed her knee into his
face, releasing a spray of blood. "You think you can use the Veronica card on
me?" she laughed. "First of all, she hates you as much as I do. Well, almost
as much. We talked for a long time while she was showing me around and she
said you disgusted her so much with your pathetic douchebaggery today that she
lost what little respect she used to have for you. And second, I didn't take
this without permission. Veronica gave me the access code to the gun safe. I
can practice with the weapons any time I want. She and I, along with the CEO
and the head of security, are the only four people with access to that safe.
Not bad, huh, being up there with those other people on my first day on the
job, yes? I bet you'd never be granted access even if you worked there for
fifty years. Now, I want you to strip."

"Wha...Huh?"

"I said strip, loser." She aimed the gun at his crotch.

Quivering in fear, Stephen stripped naked, exposing his pale, thin, weak,
flabby body, which stood in sharp contrast to Annabelle's athletic, slender
but muscular, feminine, darkly tanned one. She had hard muscles, while the
only hard thing on him was his erect cock. It was pathetically short, only
three inches long.

Annabelle burst into laughter. "I guessed you had a small dick, but I never
imagined it would be THAT tiny! You're hung like a little boy." Stephen hung
his head in shame and humiliation.

The sexy model suddenly performed a one-armed cartwheel, still holding her gun
in her left hand, followed by a back tuck. Landing elegantly on her booted
feet, she sneered down at him again. "Since you have such a fetish for
backflip girls, let's see if that makes your tiny faggot cock any bigger.
Nope, still only three inches."

"Please..." he begged.

She backhanded him across the face, the studs on her leather bracelet leaving
painful welts. "Like I'd ever let YOU tell ME what to do. I OWN you,
cocksucker. You got that, or do you need another demonstration?" She pointed
her pistol at his penis. "That would make a great small target for people who
want to practice their marksmanship. Or markswomanship."

"I'm sorry, Mistress Annabelle!" Stephen cried like a little girl. "I'll be
good!"

"Hah, like you could ever be good at anything," she snorted. She pulled out a
blindfold and covered his eyes. "Now, since you have such a fetish for girls
with thick forearms, I'm going to use mine to give your microscopic pecker a
hand job."

Stephen's heart started pounding even faster. Though he was in terror, the
thought of a hand job from the muscular model turned him on immensely. It
would be awe-inspiring, he knew, and the closest thing he had ever gotten to
sex. It would be an amazing memory...if she let him live to remember it.

He felt a hand clamp around his rock-hard penis with a strong grip. He could
feel the studs of Annabelle's leather bracelet pressing into his skin. The
hand began working his tool with a rhythmic up-and-down motion, the grip
strength steadily increasing.

"Oh, Mistress Annabelle, your forearms, your wrists...so strong," he moaned in
pleasure. Then he began moaning in pain as the hand clamped even tighter.

"Aaaahhhh...owwwwwwwww...urghhhhhhhh...gonna blow!" With that, Stephen shot
off a massive load of cum, wave after wave of semen surging out. He heard
Annabelle's mocking laughter. "Can't even last long, either. The three-inch
wonder and the thirty-second wonder."

"Did you like that?" she cooed.

"Oh yes, Mistress Annabelle!"

"Was that the best orgasm you ever had?"

"Oh yes, Mistress Annabelle!"

"I'm happy to hear that." The blindfold was pulled off. Stephen looked down at
his rod, still being held by Annabelle's muscular forearm...

Wait a minute. Something was wrong. The arm looked different. It was big, but
even bigger and thicker than Annabelle's should be. And it wasn't as darkly
tanned...

Stephen screamed in horror as the realization struck him like a wave of icy
water. He looked up, straight into the smirking face of Roger. "Glad you liked
it...fag."

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Stephen's scream was like that of Luke Skywalker when he
found out who his real father was. "But how did you..."

"Oh, I was in the trunk." Roger released Stephen's cock, then took off the
leather bracelet and gave it back to Annabelle,

who put it back on her wrist.

"An advantage of having big enough wrists to wear a man's leather bracelet,"
she said. "Mine may not be quite as big as yours, Roger, but they're stronger.
Remember when I beat you at arm wrestling? But at least you put up a good
fight, unlike this loser here." The raven-haired beauty grinned. "I knew you
were in the closet, Stephen! Or should I call you Stephanie?"

"No...no...no...you tricked me...it doesn't count..." Stephen moaned.

"Denial. Classic symptoms," said Roger.

"Indeed," Annabelle replied. "Thanks for helping me out. It was interesting
being on the other side of one of these." She held up a small video camera,
sending a new wave of horror through Stephen.

"You...filmed it?" he cried.

"Sure did," she smirked. "I'm going to market this to gay porn fans and sell
it. You're going to be a star."

"You didn't get my face in the video, did you?" asked Roger. "I don't want my
bisexuality to be out."

"Look, I tried not to, but if I did, just deal with it, okay?" said Annabelle
impatiently. Roger nodded submissively, knowing she was a much better fighter
than he was, knowing what she could do to him. He knew his place in life. He
was above Stephen in the pecking order, but below Annabelle. That was good
enough for him.

"And for you." She turned to Stephen. "You're not going to tell anyone about
what really happened, because if you try that, I'll say that I brought you out
here to try to talk to you and comfort you after your bad day, and you took
advantage of me and tried to rape me. Roger here will back up my story. So I'm
sure you'll keep quiet and be a good boy. Come on, Roger, let's go."

"What about me?" Stephen asked.

"You're going to stay here. Without your clothes. Don't be too worried about
no one wanting to pick up a nude hitchhiker. There's at least one kind of car
that will - a police car." She giggled, then tucked her gun underneath her
blouse and picked up Stephen's clothes. Roger grabbed the video camera and
they both got into Annabelle's BMW, snickering as they drove away.

Stephen lay naked on the ground, crying.

THE END