Death by Gymnast            
by  MELIADUS
Old man murdered by fifteen year old gymnasts body and feet.



It was her fifteenth birthday today. A rough fifteen years it had been. All
she had in her life was her sport, gymnastics. Her conditioning had never let
her down. Her sport had never let her down. All else had. Everyone else had.
Sure the daily intense training had hurt her, but in a way she liked. People
had hurt her, but that pain was so much worse. 

Looking in the mirror she admired herself. On the shorter side of course. But
built like a tank. She liked the way she looked in this mini skirt & leotard
combination. People always commented on her muscularity. It was a bit strange
perhaps to see such a baby young face on such a tan powerful body. Eleven
years of doing nothing but gymnastics training had created muscles on muscles.
But beyond that it had created power and flexibility that few could imagine.
She was the school champ at sit-ups, push ups, chin ups, all that stuff. She
could beat all the boys at arm wrestling. She like all this. Her entire life
of neglect had made her desire positive attention so badly. She got it through
her physical superiority.

Yes, she liked this dress and the way it showed off her legs. She turned
around and stood high on her toes. Looking over her shoulders she could see
her deep tan calves bulge with strength. Her broad shoulders and defined back
took up the entire width of the mirror. She was feeling a little warm down in
her privates, she really liked herself. She was feeling a bit tight though,
she knew it was going to be an effort. She did not know what kind of effort as
she had only dreamed of it, and imagined what she was about to do, but her
young mind knew it would not be easy. So what, she had been in tough
competitions her entire life, this just had a different twist to it. But she
was tight nonetheless. She pointed the toes of her right foot hard, she knew
she had the best toe point in the gym. Then she lifted her foot straight up
over her head, keeping her toes pointed hard, now directly at the ceiling. She
held that position, standing on her left foot, her right foot over her head.
She had beautiful feet. The were size five, tan on the tops and pink fleshy on
the soles. She had high arches which were perfect for pointing her toes. Her
feet were a tiny bit on the wide side for their small size. She liked that.
They simply were sexy, and very powerful looking in their own way. She looked
at the rips and cuts in her leg, even her foot had muscles on the instep. The
tightness was fading with this stretch, she felt better now. Her powerful
young tan foot returned to the floor. She smiled.

He was old. Old and nice. She had known him for years. He was in his late
sixties or early seventies. He had been the custodian of the gym for longer
than she had been alive. He was thin and a bit gaunt. It was obvious to her
that he had never done anything athletic in his life. She did not care that he
was sweet and nice. She simply knew that he would be perfect for her first try
at it. So what if he was sweet and shy. Her needs were going to come first.
She did not owe him a thing. Life is not fair. The loss of her parents, the
lifelong abuse in foster homes, the long stays in the facilities where teams
of idiots would try and probe her young mind in attempts to find out why she
was so hot tempered and violent at times. No, life is not fair. Time for
others to feel her pain. Even the ones who had nothing to do with it.

For over a year she had planned this. Her young child like mind going over and
over what it would feel like. He was so perfect for it too. There was tiny
twinges of concern from time to time. Most faded the other day in the gym when
she asked him to help her with some stretching. He looked embarrassed at the
thought of steadying her body while she did her splits and hamstring
stretches. She was in just a leotard, he was in shorts and an old mans tank
top. She stretched in the mirror with his "help." She studied both of their
bodies. Her compact very young gymnastic body versus his pale old worn out
skinny body. Even at such a young age, and with so little experience in life
itself she could see that she was superior. She looked at her muscular thick
young and very tan thighs next to his. She touched her own tummy which showed
washboard abs right through her tight leotard, then touched his soft old gut.
She was a full foot or more shorter than he, but so much more powerful
looking. She thanked him with a bright smile. Her rich blue eyes, bright white
teeth and natural blonde hair were so beautiful. She gave him a hug as a final
test. She felt it. She really felt it. She hugged him and knew for sure right
then that his body would not be able to take it. She was so excited now. She
felt strange things she never experienced before between her legs.

He would be through the door any in five more minutes. She was waiting for him
in the dimly lit gym. She knew his schedule now. At eleven o'clock he comes
into the gym and has to walk behind the uneven bars, though the piles of floor
mats to the light switch on the wall in the corner. She was covered with
sweat. The wetness shimmering off her tan, compact, powerful gymnast physique.
Her tight white leotard was soaked in the front area of her chest between her
small rock solid breasts. Her full young lips were trembling with
anticipation. She dropped down to a center split in front of the mirror. Her
split was right to the floor. She was facing the mirror. Her eyes scanned her
own fifteen year old body. This was going to be a great present to herself on
the day she turned fifteen. She pointed her toes and admired how her quads
bulged. She flexed both her biceps and grinned, showing that bright youthful
smile. He tan biceps bulged, the size of small baseballs, but even harder.
There she sat, in her split, looking at her front double biceps pose. He could
never withstand what she was going to do to him she thought. He was going to
pay for all the pain of her life, with his own.

Then she heard it. The door opened and shut. Her heart raced like it always
did just before she was going to mount beam in front of thousands of people to
perform her routine. He was here. She slipped behind the pile of mats near the
light switch and watched him approach. They were all alone. He rounded the
corner and saw her there just a foot or two in front of him. He was very
startled. He uttered the last word he was ever to say. In a shocked and
confused way he said "Traci?"

It was like her mind exploded. She was consumed by rage. Traci took one step
forward and with every bit of strength swung her tight fist into his old weak
gut. The feeling for her was instantly intoxicating. She felt his body give to
the power of her fist. Her fist sunk deep into his gut, she grunted a young
girls grunt of effort as it landed. Irwin fell to against the pile of mats
unable to catch his breath and in extreme pain. Traci did not let up. Her
young tight body leaped towards his. He was slumped against the pile of mats
sucking wind. He looked up and saw her fist crash into his old jaw send his
head to the side. Then she through another punch to his face, tearing it open.
He was in a sitting position now, his back against the mat pile. She knelt
near him. Shifted her weight to her left knee and brought her right knee and
thigh up into his chest as hard as she could. Her mighty fifteen year old leg
crushed into his decrepit old chest, crushing bone. He reached out to try and
stop any more of her onslaught. He could not. She was beating him to death.
The old mans body was no match for her young gymnast trained body. Horror was
in his eyes as she continued to drive her fists, knees and feet into his body
and face. She was not thinking normally now. The athletic little fifteen year
old was a monster with only one desire, to kill this old man with her bare
hands. Irwin was terrified and resisting as best he could, but it was a joke
for her.

She knew that the moment had come to end his life. She wanted nothing more. He
was now flat on his back with her on top. She straddled his upper chest and
shoulders. Her mighty body was in a split position on top of his chest. He
looked up at her in terror. He knew that nothing he could do would be able to
stop her. She leaned forward and grabbed his old head in her strong hands, one
palm on each cheek bone, and began to twist.  His body tried to rotate with
her twisting, but she drove her butt and crotch down onto his chest to hold it
still while she continued to power his head around to the right. Her arms
bulged with power as she applied pressure, twisting pressure, turning his
head. He felt the vertebra in his neck straining, tendons and old ligaments
popping in his head. She was slowly snapping his neck with her bare hands. He
yelped a panic ridden high pitched scream as he felt a pain like no man should
ever feel. She leaned in on him and made a grunting straining sound as she
bore down, twisting his head with all her might against his best resistance.
His back arched a bit in agony, his arms grabbed her solid forearms but she
was far to strong. He caught one glimpse of her. Her pretty face was contorted
in a maniacal look of strain, effort and anger. A little uncontrolled dribble
leaked out of her lips as she shook and trembled with effort. With one burst
of additional power through her upper body there was a ripping sound. His eyes
widened, and his body relaxed. She had ripped his spinal cord rendering him
paralyzed, but alive.

She was so excited. She could have turned his head the rest of the way around,
killing him with her bare hands, but she wanted something else now. He lay
helpless on his back. Awake, alive, but unable to move his body. She slid back
until she was sitting on his lower tummy. She took her right foot and gently
touched it against his face and nose. Her tan sexy young foot caressed his
face. She put her perfect toes to his lips. She loved the control, the feeling
of power. She brought her other foot to his face now. He had an idea what was
about to happen. He was on his back with a powerful fifteen year old gymnast
sitting on his gut. He could see the bottoms of her perfect size five feet
caressing his face. She had a sick, evil grin now. She pointed her toes hard,
and pressed her feet over his mouth and nose, cutting off any air. He was now
more terrified than ever. He tried to move his head but she bore down on his
face with her meaty strong little tan feet. She had spent a lifetime pointing
her toes with perfect form for thousands of spectators, now she was
suffocating this worn out old man with those same pointed toes. She pinched
his nose tight between her left and right big toe, and pressed the rest of her
sexy feet over his mouth and continued to press with all her might. He looked
up and her young tan face, blonde hair partially covering her bright blue
eyes. He saw that she was not going to let up. She was going to smother him
with her feet and toes. 

Panic is a funny thing. It makes a man look very strange. His lungs were
burning, his chest was on fire, fighting for any breath at all. But there was
none. Her feet would not move. She looked down the length of her muscular
legs, followed the line all the way down to her pointed toes and feet to his
eyes. His eyes were seemingly three times as large as normal as he stared back
at her in terror. His body was convulsing, he was fighting as best he could
but he was beaten. She continued holding her fifteen year old powerful feet
over his mouth and nose. She watched as his eyes rolled back into his head, as
his fingers wretched and tightened. His back arched but she only pressed her
feet harder into his face. Then he cast one last pleading look of terror into
her eyes, but all he saw in return was determination. She felt him weaken, but
held her feat hard on his face, pointing even harder now. Then life slipped
from him. His chest relaxed, his eyes went dull. She had just murdered him.
The fifteen year old gymnast had just killed the old man with her bare hands
and feet.

She stood up and looked down at his blue face and broken body. He truly was no
match for her. She stepped over him and walked out of the gym. She turned off
the lights for him on the way out.


If you would like to have a match with Traci, or have anyone you would like to
see her take care of for you contact me. Traci costs, but she is worth it.
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