Kimmy and Valerie
by MBP (MWFAN318@aol.com)
A beautiful day turns ugly for a teenage boy.

It was a beautiful mid-spring day, the kind of Saturday any 15-year-old boy would love.  I 
guess adults love it also as my dad was out playing golf.  Not my cup of tea, but the old 
guy enjoys it.  I was heading home in the middle of the afternoon, something I wouldn’t 
ordinarily be doing.  I had forgotten: there was a standardized test, some sort of precursor 
to the SATs.  Most of my buddies had elected to take it.  So when I got to the field, 
looking forward to soccer, basketball, and softball, nobody was there.  I turned around 
and went home.  This accounted for the trouble to follow.

I let myself into the house, and called for my Mom.  She didn’t answer but I could hear 
some rumbling in the basement.  I assumed it was her, grabbed a quick soda, then headed 
upstairs to my room.  Even on the stairs I could hear girlish giggles emanating from the 
direction of my bedroom.  When I got there, I saw my sister Valerie and her obnoxious 
friend Kim sitting on the floor, leafing through my things.  I guess they figured I’d be 
gone for the day.    What then started as annoyance turned into panic, then 
embarrassment, as I saw the boxes that formed my “stash.”  They were both open.  
Kimmy and my sister were so engrossed in the contents they missed my arrival.  Finally, 
Kim looked up, saw me standing there beet red, then motioned to Valerie who grinned at 
me.  Kim giggled; my embarrassment multiplied.

Where did they find the boxes?  I noticed my music CDs strewn all over the rug, and 
realized I has stashed the boxes behind my CD collection.  Valerie had obviously come in 
to vandalize my CDs and had stumbled onto my “porn.”  This wasn’t going to happen 
again.  I had to move my stuff and perhaps padlock my door.  In the meantime, I needed 
to deal with the immediate problem.  My humiliation turned to anger, and I screamed at 
the girls, “Get the hell away from my stuff and get out of my room, or else.”

The girls didn’t move.  Valerie said, “So this is what you fantasize about.”

Fantasize?.  How would a 9-year-old girl know that word?  I felt that old embarrassing 
feeling again.  Let me mention right here that the nature of my collection was unusual.  If 
it was just a bunch of Playboys and Penthouses, it wouldn’t have felt so weird, since that 
was “normal” for a teenage boy.  But I collected fighting paraphernalia; or, more exactly, 
stuff depicting fights between females and males.  There were downloads of pictures and 
stories from the net, several videos (not wrestling videos, but ordinary videos with mixed 
fights in them), magazine pictures, and even some comics.  And there were some stories I 
had written in secret for the past couple of years.  This was the most galling.  I could see 
on the floor one of stories I penned about one of the girls in my class, who the younger 
girls knew, throwing me around and spinning me on her shoulders.  Valerie and Kimmy 
had read that one for sure.  I could barely describe here the way I felt at that exact 
moment.  I was paralyzed.  I couldn’t get away, couldn’t scream at the girls, couldn’t beat 
the crap out of them.  I just stood motionless as the grinning girls came up with an idea.

Kim said “Hey, Val, let’s give him what he wants.  Let’s wrestle with him.”  No sooner 
had the words come out of her mouth, than she and my sister quickly rose and attacked 
me, driving me to the floor.  The thud shook me out of my paralytic state, and I began 
wrestling with the girls.  This was great!  I was planning my revenge as we tussled on the 
ground.  The girls were going to get it bad; I could see myself pounding each one of them 
into the ground.  In the back of my mind, I heard my Mom yelling at me for beating up 
girls, but I didn’t care.  They deserved to be punished.  But things weren’t going as I 
expected.

Valerie had wrapped herself around my legs.  She was pointing away from me.  Her head 
and chest were tightly entwined with my calves and she had me scissored with her legs.  I 
could move my lower body, but couldn’t get enough leverage to remove her, because 
Kimmy had my arms trapped.  Her head was also facing my feet.  Her crotch was in my 
face; she had her arms wrapped around mine and tight against my chest.  I wasn’t sure 
how Kim had gotten into that position, but their divide-and-conquer method of grappling 
was certainly effective.  

I decided to concentrate on Kimmy and managed to get my arms released.  It was much 
harder than I would have expected.  Kimmy is 4 inches shorter than my sister - who is 
nearly a foot shorter than me - and probably 60 pounds or so.  Not having my legs added 
greatly to the difficulty.  It was very tough to balance myself properly to use any strength.  
But no sooner than I got the use of my arms, Kim spun perpendicular to me, trapped one 
of my arms between her thin, bare legs, and laid across me, in what I knew to be a cross-
body press.  I was shocked Kim knew the maneuver, but perhaps she had seen it in some 
of the pictures in my collection.  I thrashed around for a while, trying to extricate myself, 
but both girls hung on gamely.  I was getting a little tired and stopped trying so hard.  
Valerie and Kim noticed this, and realized they had me.  Suffice it to say, it was not a 
happy time.  But it was going to get worse.  Much worse.

“That was so easy!” Valerie exclaimed, as she turned around to face her friend.  I had by 
then ceased struggling, trying to conserve some energy and what little dignity I could 
muster.  

“Yeah,” said Kim as she turned her head to the left to talk easily with my sister.  “Maybe 
he let us win since he seems to like girls winning.”

I had an out!  “Yeah, girls,” I said, trying to sound sincere.  “I let you win; didn’t want to 
hurt you.  So if you let me up, we’ll call it even.  Just don’t go through my stuff again.”

“If you want to get up,” cooed Valerie, “you’ll have to do it yourself.  If you let us win, 
then just get up.”

Damn, my bluff was called and raised!  I decided to react quickly, while Valerie wasn’t 
so tightly attached to my legs.  I threw her off, but Kimmy remained securely in place.  I 
started unattaching the tiny 9-year-old, as Valerie scrambled back to restore control of 
my legs.

“Don’t, Val,” Kim said.  “Just sit on the side and watch.  I’d like to try this myself.”

“Are you sure, Kimmy?” asked Valerie, looking at my red face and blazing eyes.  “My 
brother looks real angry.  I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Kim didn’t answer.  She was too busy trying to thwart my release moves.  I got my right 
arm free, and used my new-found leverage to spin Kimmy over me.  I was free!  Now she 
was going to get it.  Or was she?  The little girl and I tumbled around, trying for a hold or 
a pin.  I wasn’t making much progress and I couldn’t understand it AT ALL.  I’m 5’6 and 
135 pounds and 6 years older.  How was it I didn’t win in 2 seconds?  I mean, I know I 
was a little tired and Kimmy was certainly fresher, but surely I had enough energy to beat 
a 9-year-old girl?  As it turned out, I didn’t.

I didn’t know that much about wrestling, despite having a collection of wrestling stuff.  
Kim didn’t either, but she was very determined.  And surprisingly strong.  While we were 
tussling, it sometimes seemed to me Kim was as strong as me.  I can’t believe that to be 
the case - and still can’t believe it now - but her resolve was amazing.  After some time, 
which was probably only a couple of minutes but seemed much longer, Kimmy was 
sitting on my shoulders, her bare feet tucked under me near my shoulder blades, her 
knees tightly against my neck.  She was having a difficult time controlling my arms, but 
she was staying on top.  During our wrestling, Kim had gotten me into the same position 
a few times but I had gotten out.  Now I wasn’t.  She knew I wasn’t getting up and 
concentrated on trying to pin my wrists.  I fought hard against it.

Valerie had sat quietly while Kimmy and I struggled.  But now my sister had moved to 
my left and to the right of Kim.  We could both see her with our peripheral vision.  Her 
brief  look of surprise and wonderment, with which she was looking at Kimmy, had 
turned into a teasing smile.  As I fought to keep my arms off the carpet, Valerie lay 
nearby, her face about a foot from mine with her head in her hands, her small body 
stretched out behind her, bare feet waving idly in the air.  

“I can’t believe it, Kim,” she said proudly, “you’re stronger than my brother!”  This led to 
a round of severe bucking by me which only served to tire me more quickly, as Kim held 
me easily.  I was now having more difficulty getting my arms off the floor, and Kimmy 
was getting perilously close to securing my wrists.

“I know,” Kim answered, turning her head to face her friend.  “I can’t believe I beat him 
so easily.”

“You’re not stronger than me,” I gasped, all evidence to the contrary.  “I was already 
tired, and you surprised me.”  The turning of the head was nearly as humiliating as the 
words, as it underscored her dominance - she didn’t even have to concentrate on me any 
longer.

“Sure, sure,” Kimmy cooed, as she finally got control of my wrists.  She teased, 
stretching out the words for emphasis.  “I’m not stronger than you.  How could I be?  I’m 
just 9 years old and you’re a bigggg, stronggggg mannnnsssss.  I’m sure I was just lucky.”

I just groaned.  She had beaten me fair and square.  Pinned below her, I was starting to 
really feel waves of nausea that went with the humiliation.  I hadn’t realized Valerie had 
left the room.

“Hey, Kimmy,” Valerie said when she returned.  “Look what I got!”

“A camera!” exclaimed Kimmy.  “Take a pic.  I’m sure it will make a great addition to 
his collection.”

“Please, no,” I said, reduced to pleading.  

Valerie clicked off two Polaroids in succession.  “One is for his collection, and one is for 
ours.  Just in case we need some evidence.”

“Evidence for what?“ I cried desperately. 

“Next time I need to get my way.  I’m sure your friends would LOVE to see these 
pictures!”

That was it.  I was reduced to tears, a beautiful day gone bad.  Kimmy released me and 
stood up, helping me unsteadily to my feet.  I looked down at her, seeing a little girl, 
more than a foot shorter than me, bare-legged, wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, looking so 
tiny, and I turned my head.  I couldn’t face her.  She reached up and cupped my jaw with 
her small hands, pushing me down to sit on the bed.  

“I need you to admit something to me.”

I asked her what.

“That I’m stronger than you.  You never said it when I had you pinned.  I want to hear it.  
Otherwise…” she whispered something in my ear.

“No, please,” I said.

“Then say it.”

“Kimmy, you’re stronger than me,” I said.  I think I meant it.  She seemed to believe it.

“Good,” said Kim as she turned towards my sister.  “Let’s get out of here.  I think your 
bro here needs some quiet time.”  She flashed me a smile; my sister flashed a bigger one, 
and the twosome left the room, closing the door after them.

It was a very long time until I was able to move even a little.  The feeling of extreme 
humiliation lasted for days.  Every time I think of that afternoon, I feel something in the 
pit of my stomach.  And I still think I got away a little lucky.  Because the otherwise was 
that my sister was next.  And I never, ever would’ve gotten over that.

I looked at my fighting paraphernalia and thought how the defeated guys must feel.  And 
then I gathered it up, put it back in the boxes, and tossed everything into the garbage.