She challenges a black belt in karate to a little scissors match. He loses.
Michelle was a tough little blonde, all 5-2 of her seeming much taller with 120 muscular pounds packed on her little frame. She didn’t take shit from anyone, a powerhouse of a 22-year-old spitfire who loved physical activity of all sorts.
Including wrestling. It was her strength, something she took great pleasure in both from winning and punishing her opponents, male or female. This day at her gym, she was happening by an open door to a room in which Brad, a karate instructor was practicing his kicks and punches on a heavy bag. She never liked the guy, he was a cocky sort, and was waiting for the day to put him in his place. Today seemed as good a day as any as she sauntered in and closed the door, turning to face him in her tiny powder-blue short shorts, clingy matching tank top and her short blonde hair hanging in sweaty strands over her pretty face.
“Sup, Brad?” she asked, casually walking over to the bag and landing a couple soft punches. “Wanna see what I can do to this thing?”
“Well, Michelle, I’m in the middle of a workout here, if you don’t mind,” the rock-hard 50-year-old man growled at her. “Besides, you’re not into karate, right?”
“No, but I am into wrestling,” she said. “Watch.”
With that, she grabbed the chain holding the bag to the ceiling and leaped up to wrap her short, very thick legs around it, locking her ankles on the other side. Her thighs bulged tremendously as she squeezed it, now letting go of the chain and hanging back, hands behind her head, her rocky abs ripped as her belly was bared beneath her tiny top. She smiled at Brad who rolled his eyes.
“OK, you done showing me how you can hang from the bag with your, uh, big legs?” he asked sarcastically.
“You up for a match?” she said, slipping off the bag and walking up to his 6-4, 240 pound form. “Huh, big man? Big karate man? You can use whatever you want against me and I just get to use..my big legs!”
She looked down at her massive legs, which she was flexing for him now, quads rippling hard as he watched. He coughed nervously and looked away.
“Look, Michelle, you have no martial arts training at all, right, so what’s the point?” he said. “I slap you around a little and send you on your way, that what you want? Just take off, will you, and let me work out in peace.”
He turned his back and Michelle followed, poking him in the back until he turned around. A sneer on her face as he backed away, she kept poking him, in the belly, the chest, giving him little slaps across his face, angering him, but still not provoking him to fight back.
“C’mon, ya big chicken, you big karate pussy, take me on…and my legs…s’matter, you afraid of a little girl more than half your age?” she teased, poking at him.
“Dammit, Michelle, knock it off,” he growled, now slapping her hands away.
“Chicken…pussy…little wussy man, bet you’re a faggot..you like sucking cock, Brad, do ya?” she continued.
Pissed now, Brad took a little swing at her, hoping just to slap her face and knock some sense into the bold blonde taunting him. Instead he found himself flat on his back as she ducked quickly and knocked him off his feet with a surprisingly fast foot sweep he didn’t see coming, he didn’t expect it. And as he lay flat, she stunned him further by quickly standing up and then dropping hard, driving her muscular legs between his to pound his nuts. Brad howled in agony and rolled into a ball, clutching his crotch.
“Easy pickings,” Michelle sighed.
She sat behind his head and before he could stop her had engulfed it in her massive, muscular thighs for a straight headscissors. She locked her sneakers together and twisted up on her hands, jarring him hard with a savage jolt from her thrusting thighs. Brad screamed at the sudden pain, his hands clutching her quads and trying to pull them open, but they seemed to grow and swell in his grip, seeming to get even more muscular and harder as she squeezed, now up on her hands, hips bucking up and down, her scissor snapping into his trapped head.
“Dammit, that hurts!” he screamed.
“No shit, pussy man, my scissors ALWAYS hurt!” she barked. “Now, GIVE UP!!!”
He gamely clung to her thighs but they got harder, the interior cords of them feeling like they’d buckle his skull in their steely grip. Weakly, he waved his arms around to surrender, stunned at the savage attack and totally surprised by her power and ability to make him submit. She let go and stood up, taunting him, as he struggled to his feet, more pissed off than ever. He rushed her, his anger clouding his judgment and going on the offensive. Sidestepping him, she grabbed an arm and thrust him face first into the heavy bag, and then leaping to grab the chain, snared his neck in her huge calves before he could back away. She hung from the bag now, those 17-inch tubes of steel that were her calves latched firmly around his throat.
“Give it up, Brad, you got NOTHING in your karate arsenal to fight THESE calves!!!” she shrieked at him, her arms bulging with fierce muscle as she hung from the bag.
Brad’s vision blurred and stars appeared before his eyes, in what he recognized as sure signs of blacking out, so he waved his hands wildly to signify submission.
“Please…Michelle…stop…” he groaned.
The rugged blonde laughed and unlatched her killer calves, allowing Brad to slump to the floor on his hands and knees, his breathing labored, head and neck aching from her scissors assault. She let him get to his feet and then attacked. Unable to fend her off, Brad found himself spun around and all wrapped up in Michelle’s tireless legs, her bursting thighs slammed around his ribs from behind as she clung to him, her thick, tanned arms snaked around his head and neck. She squeezed in with her thighs, bending his ribs and he screamed in pain, falling to one knee, then two, and finally backwards into the continually tightening grip of Michelle’s relentless legs. She had him wrapped up like a snake eating its prey now, big thighs sandwiching his slender midsection, one huge arm pinching around his throat while the forearm of the other scissored around the back of his neck. Michelle had him in a viciously tight bodyscissors/sleeper combination and was pressing hard, bruising and then fracturing one, then two ribs, causing him to howl in pain, his screams lessening as she worked the sleeper.
“I’m a double threat, Brad, I got the arms working, I got the legs working,” she hissed into his ear, biting the lobe and snarling at him. “Now I’m gonna take you out!”
“No….Mich….elllll…pleeesh…” he droned, his brain deprived of oxygen and his ribs afire with pain.
Michelle grit her teeth and let him have one full scissor snap, taking with it another rib, while punishing him in her huge, muscular arms, sapping his strength and knocking him out cold. When he snorted under her double grip she knew he was out and let him go to stand and watch him convulse on the mats. She laughed as he came around, standing with hands on her hips. He awoke and focused on her standing there, thighs swelled with muscle, calves flared into steely fists above her ankles.
“OK, Mr. Black Belt, you wanna go another round?” she laughed, leaping up to scissor the heavy bag again, hanging from it with no hands as she slapped her meaty thighs with both hands.
Brad couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, Michelle’s laughter haunting him all the way out.
The End
