Little Sister Is A Big Bully

[slowride10]

Hope more on mom and her muscle...great stuff

[slowride10]

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[Sicod]

Mom really has not been paying attention if her daughter is the one she is worried about being safe.

[grbaclig]

Part 3, Chapter 38

        We got to Tokyo early a couple of days before the fight, and we did some sightseeing, but all mom or Allison could talk about was Kylie.  I was so sick of hearing them gush over her, that it was almost a relief when fight night arrived.  The arena was packed, and I was surprised that the crowd was mostly women.  What's more, many of the women were wearing identical shirts.  Everywhere I looked in the arena I saw women wearing white workout t-shirts adorned with a big pink logo on the front.  "What's with all the matching shirts?" I asked Allison as she and mom sat down next to each other.  "Is this a holiday or something?"
        "Uh no, dumbass," Allison said as she and mom removed their coats to reveal that they were also wearing the white shirt with pink logo.  "This is from Kylie's workout apparel line.  We're all wearing it show our support for Kylie, and for all women who want to compete against men."
        Up close, I could see that the logo was one of those mirror symbols that serve as the gender symbol for women, the ones with a circle and a cross below it.  Inside the circle was a stylized cartoon of a curvaceous woman flexing a huge bicep, all drawn with one line as if it were a single brush-stroke.     "You see Richard," mom said, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and pulling me close to her jutting chest, "this is the international symbol for women, and inside the circle is a strong woman."
        "I get it mom," I cried.  "Cut it out."
        "I just love how these shirts fit," mom said, releasing me.  "And they're so well-made.."
        "But the best part is how sexy they make your tits look when they get wet," Allison purred.
        Then Allison dumped her bottle of water all over my mom's chest.  The flimsy shirt responded almost instantly, clinging to the contours of mom's huge J-cup breasts, as her big grape-sized nipples erupted outward.  "Oh heavens that's cold," mom said.  "My nipples are absolutely freezing!"
        "I can always keep them warm in my mouth," Allison laughed, cocking an eyebrow.
        Dad was red with anger, but he had learned not to meddle in mom's affairs.  Mom wagged her finger at Allison.  "You are a very naughty girl," she scolded.  But as she looked at Allison, her voice softened and her eyes filled with lust.  "A very very naughty girl," she continued.  "Someone should give you a spanking.  A very rough, very through spanking."
        I cringed at what Allison might say in response, but before she could speak, the lights went down and the fights started.  The first few cards were a mixed bag of new fighters and famous fighters, of grappling and striking, of good fights and bad fights.  A wave of excitement went through the crowd when the jumbotron in the arena declared that Kylie's fight would be next. 
        The fighter stats were displayed prominently on the jumbotron.  The left side of the screen had a picture of Hunor Horvath snarling, and underneath the picture were his vital statistics:   38 years old, 6'5" tall, 252 pounds, reach of 80", and a professional record of 21-14.  The right side of the screen had a picture of Kylie smiling and flashing the peace sign, and underneath the picture were her vital statistics: 13 years old, 5'3" tall, 301 pounds, reach of 64", and an amateur record of 11-0.
        "301 pounds?' I blurted out.  "She weighed 275 like a month ago.  No one can put on 25 pounds of muscle in a month."
        But I was wrong.  Soon Kylie was walking down the aisle to the octagonal cage, and she had gotten bigger.  A lot bigger.  She was dressed in pink hotpants and a pink sportsbra, and she was bulging out of them in every way possible.  Her thighs bulged out of the leg holes of the shorts, her butt bulged out of the back of her shorts, her abs and obliques bulged out of the waistline of her shorts, her lats and delts bulged out of the back of her bra, and her boobs bulged out of the front of her bra.  The women in the crowd were screaming themselves hoarse as Kylie walked into the ring, her hair braided perfectly into a ponytail, and a confident smile on her face. 
        Hunor Horvath walked down the aisle to a Hungarian pop song, but no one was paying attention.  In the ring, Kylie was flexing her muscles for the adoring crowd.  As Hunor stepped into the cage, Kylie ceased her posing and fixed him with her icy blue eyes.  Hunor's face showed a mixture of confusion and fear as saw Kylie in person for the first time.  She was bigger now than she was in the videos that she had posted online, bigger than she was when she won the Mr. Olympia contest, and bigger than she was when she won the World's Strongest Man contest.  She was huge.
        I recognized the expression on Hunor's face, because I had worn it myself, first when I was 14 and Kylie was 9.  She told me that she had been lifting weights after her gymnastics lessons, and that she wanted to armwrestle.  I agreed, chuckling as we walked into the kitchen, but I stopped laughing when my kid sister rolled up her sleeve.  I could feel my jaw drop open as 9-year old Kylie raised her right arm and flexed a bicep as big and round as a billiard ball as she looked me dead in the eye, smirking with delight.  A few seconds after that, I was struggling to keep my arm up as Kylie giggled and taunted me, talking about how she could feel her muscles getting bigger and stronger as I strained against them.  A few seconds after that my hand was pinned against the table, aching in the unrelenting pressure of my kid sister's iron grip as she flexed her left arm and kissed her bicep.
        At that fateful moment the kitchen, I stared at 9-year old Kylie with the same mix of fear and confusion that I saw on Hunor Horvath's face as 13-year old Kylie raised her right arm and flexed a bicep as big and round as a shot put as she looked him dead in the eye, smirking with delight. 
        Then the bell rang.
        Hunor shuffled into the center of the ring, his fists raised like a boxer, while Kylie strolled casually to meet him.  As Kylie approached Hunor, her body tightened with power like a coiled spring, her cantaloupe-sized calves hardened into heart-shaped blocks of muscle, and her narrow midsection rippling with a symphony of abs, obliques, and serratus muscles.  Her arms hung casually at her sides, but her clenched fists made her forearms swell into knots of muscle the size of grapefruits.
        Hunor launched a volley of blows down at Kylie, a couple of quick jabs followed by a pair of hooks, all of which Kylie dodged with ease.  Her massive body flowed like a rive of muscle, moving with effortless speed and grace as she slipped the jabs and ducked the hooks, each dodge taking her a step closer to Hunor and negating his reach advantage.  Hunor tried to back up and keep Kylie at arms length, but before he could take a single step she shot forward, planting her shoulder into his midsection and wrapping her arms around his legs, executing a picture-perfect double-leg takedown. 
        The explosive force of Kylie's takedown was so great that her momentum carried them both across the ring, where they landed near the edge of the cage.  A split second later, Kylie had passed Hunor's guard, and was straddling his body, her golden-brown muscle-etched thighs dwarfing his pale flabby torso.  As Hunor struggled uselessly against my little sister's enormous powerful legs, Kylie smiled and brought her hands to her waist in a 'most muscular' pose that sent a wave of awe through the assembled crowd.  Her trapezius muscles swelled until they touched her ears, her pecs ballooned until they touched her chin, and her biceps bulged until they squeezed so far into her bosom that the golden brown orbs of her gigantic breasts began to spill out of her sportsbra.  Even Hunor Horvath, the man who was famous for brutalizing heavyweight MMA fighters, froze in awe with his eyes as wide as saucers as the hulking 13-year old girl looked down on him and began to laugh.  "Didn't you say you weren't scared of my muscles?" Kylie taunted.  "Because you sure look scared to me." 
        Hunor recovered quickly from his shock, and reached up to grab Kylie's wrists, but he was far too slow to contend with her well-honed reflexes.  His got his hands within six inches of Kylie, when she snatched them out of the air with ease, wrapping her tiny fingers around his wrists.  A look of sheer panic crossed Hunor's face as he began to struggle, his body pinned beneath her steel-hard legs, his arms locked in her iron grip.  A smile spread across Kylie's face as she began to slap Hunor in the face with his own hands.  "Stop hitting yourself," she giggled.  "Why are you hitting yourself?"
        The women in the audience laughed and cheered as Kylie continued to smack Hunor with his own hands, harder and harder, until eventually his nose was bloodied and his face was red.  Finally, the referee jumped in front of Kylie and began to wave his arms, signaling a break to stand both fighters up again.  Kylie laughed and tossed her hair as she stepped off of Hunor, who pulled himself off the ground with shame as the referee pointed to Kylie and held up one finger toward the judges.  "What does that mean?" mom asked.  "What is he doing with his fingers."
        "He's telling the judges to subtract a point from Kylie's score for unsportsmanlike conduct," I said.  "Remember how she always got fouls and penalties for taunting in youth sports?  It's like that."
        "It doesn't matter," Allison scoffed.  "Kylie does whatever she wants."
        It was hard to argue with her.  As the two fighters looked at each other from the corners of the ring, Kylie moved her thumb across her neck in a throat-slicing gesture, and Hunor Horvath gulped with fear.  The referee barked at Kylie, and signaled for the judges to deduct another point from her score as he waved for the fighters to resume the contest, and a smile spread across Kylie's face.

[JerusalemTulip]

I like the hints at societal change that Kylie, intentional or not seems to be driving.  Posting her pics and taunts and workout routine seems to be energizing more than just Mom and Allison now.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Yeah, it seems to be that Kylie has started to really change how society views females, and how females view themselves, I hope we see pics and vids of females of all ages becoming more muscular, more fit, stronger and loving to show it all off. As far as Kylie herself is concerned, this "fight" is going to be nothing but a massacre, but I do like the fact that it's not going to be perfect, as her taunting is deducting points from her score, but we all know what's going to happen, other than maybe Hunor getting a lucky shot in when she's distracted, it's going to be domination, plain and simple. Wonder when Kylie's going to move from single sports and move on to team sports? k+!

[wissen]

It's really cool! Thank you!

But where is Lola? I hope she will prepare some big surprise for us

[ame3cv62]

You know might be interesting to see what kind of things she did when she was younger than 13,like beating up teachers at school,just a thought

[Lupus753]

Maybe, but I've rather the story not have any flashback tangents.

[grbaclig]

Part 3, Chapter 39

        Once again Kylie strolled calmly into the center of the ring.  This time Hunor approached her tentatively, his face and body language showing the fear that Kylie had instilled in him with her dominant strength and audacious displays of muscularity.  As Kylie walked steadily toward Hunor he backed away, lashing out with jabs which Kylie swatted away like flies, and with leg kicks that Kylie didn't bother to check, choosing instead to let them bounce harmlessly off of her titanic thighs. 
        Hunor was running out of room to back away, and step by step, Kylie closed in on him.  Once or twice Hunor tried to slip away along the fence, but Kylie read his movements perfectly, controlling the ring and cutting off every attempt at escape as she continued to shrug off his attacks. 
        Then Kylie struck.  I didn't see her set up her kick.  I didn't see her square her hips, or engage her calves, or anything like that.  All I saw was the golden brown blur of her body in movement, and the dark red spray of blood from Hunor Horvath's mouth as her heel struck his jaw.
        Hunor collapsed into a pile as Kylie strolled casually back to her corner, and the referee waved his arms over Hunor's motionless body to signal the end of the fight.  As the women in the crowd cheered, the jumbotron showed a replay of the knockout strike.  Kylie had planted her left hand on the mat and swung her legs into the air, her rock-hard abdominal muscles rippling as she twisted her hips, executing a capoeria cartwheel kick that moved so fast that it blurred even in slow motion. 
        The screen froze as her tiny foot struck Hunor's jaw, causing a shockwave that ran across his face as his eyes rolled back in his head and his body began to slacken.  While Hunor looked sloppy and defeated, Kylie looked as powerful and confident as ever, the freeze-framed acrobatic kick showcasing her cocky smirk, shining hair, rippling muscles, bulging butt, and giant boobs all at once.
        Hunor Horvath was loaded onto a stretcher as the ring announcer came out to make Kylie's victory official.  And that was the end of the fight.  90 seconds into the first round of her first professional fight, my 13-year old kid sister had knocked out one of the most feared men in Mixed Martial Arts.  The women were still cheering as the referee raised Kylie's hand in victory, and she bowed to the crowd.  The ringside interviewer stepped into the ring, and looked down at her with awe as she began to hit one bodybuilding pose after another for the adoring crowd.  "Kylie, you just made one heck of an entrance into the UFC," he said.  "How do you feel?"
        "Kind of bored," Kylie said calmly as she smiled down at the pumpkin-shaped slabs of her pectoral muscles.  "That guy kept his weight too far back on his feet, and his elbows were too far apart.  I could have knocked him out in like 5 seconds, but I wanted to give the fans a show." 
        "You certainly gave them a show," the interviewer said.  "What's next for you?"
        "I think I proved that I should get a shot at the heavyweight title," Kylie said as she put her massive arms behind her head and flexed her deeply cut abdominal muscles, shifting her hips from side to side to make her obliques and ribs flex and contract.  "I want to prove my superiority."
        "That could be tricky, Kylie," the interviewer said.  "The interim champ is fighting the #1 contender tonight, and if there's no clear winner, we might have a 3-way tie atop of the division."
        "Well, I just hope the fans in Tokyo get a good show," Kylie said, smiling brightly and blowing kisses to the crowd as they cheered her name.  "Thank you all so much!"
        "What a phony," I grumbled.  "I can't believe people are falling for her 'good girl' routine."

        The heavyweight championship fight was the final fight of the evening.  It was a real dud, and ended in a draw.  That was bad news for the fans, who wanted a good show, and for Kylie, would now have to wait for a three-way tie to resolve itself before she could fight for the title. 
        After Mom, dad, Allison, and I were waiting in the hotel lobby for Kylie to get down from the penthouse so we could go to dinner.  It was hard to act natural with all the men who stopped and stared.  Mom was wearing a yellow floral-print cocktail dress that was way too short and way too low-cut, showing off both her slender muscular legs and huge jiggling breasts, with her salt-and pepper hair up in a bouffant and yellow horned-rim glasses that matched her dress.  Allison was wearing a floor-length red gown that was both strapless and sleeveless, with her hair swept stylishly to the side.  Her dress was downright modest compared to mom's, vented to the thigh and showing just a little cleavage.  She would have looked like a fashion model or a movie star, except for the bulging muscles on her arms and shoulders, which were streaked with veins and lined with deep cuts.  "Did you just get back from the gym?" I asked her.  "You look really... um..."
        "You look big as heck, and ripped to blazes," mom said to her.  "You're quite a dish!"
        "Thanks," Allison said, adjusting her hair.  "I got a quick pump on before dinner.  I wanted to show Kylie...  I mean, I wanted Kylie to see how well her girls-only lifting program is working for me."
        Then the elevator dinged and Kylie strolled out into the lobby, wearing an ivory-colored cocktail dress like Marilyn Monroe wore in The Seven Year Itch, but much smaller.  The massive swell of her muscular body made the dress look as skimpy as a bathing suit, her tanned M-cup boobs spilled out on either side of the halter top, and the hem of the skirt was a full six inches above the knee.  Allison ran up to her immediately, preparing to flex her muscles.  "Hey Kylie, check this out-" she said, only to be instantly overrun with reporters before she could get within three feet of Kylie.

        We ran from paparazzi all the way into our cab, and some were even waiting for us outside of the restaurant.  Inside the restaurant, the maitre'd greeted us immediately.  As we walked to our table, heads turned and cameras flashed.  Kylie's name was whispered in reverence by the other diners, and she smirked delightedly at the attention.  Once again, it was all about her.  "Why does everyone keep saying 'kyonyu'?" I asked the maitre'd as we approached our table.  "What does 'kyonyu' mean?"
        The maitre'd blushed and looked down, and Kylie laughed.  "'Kyonyu' means big tits," she said. 
        "How nice of them to notice," mom said, adjusting her cleavage.  "Everyone here is so friendly."
        Allison hurriedly took the chair at Kylie's right, trying her best not to look too eager, and failing.  I rolled my eyes as I sat down at Allison's right, and I noticed that there was an empty chair at the table, as if we were expecting a sixth person.  "You were amazing tonight Kylie," Allison chirped.
        "Yeah, I know," Kylie said without looking up from the menu. "I'm pretty much always amazing."
        "I-I've been lifting really heavy lately, thanks to your girls-only lifting program," Allison stammered.  "And my muscles are really getting really big.  Check this out."
        Allison raised her arm and flexed, and her bicep sprang to life, as big and round as a baseball, and perfectly carved.  Then a young woman's voice called from behind us. "You call that a muscle?"
        I instantly recognized the sultry purr and flowery accent of Lola Lopez, and realized who the sixth seat at the table was for.  "Oh look who it is!" mom sang.  "Oh Lola your dress is something else."
        That was an understatement.  Lola was wearing a sleeveless strapless floor-length red gown, just like Allison.  But unlike Allison's dress, Lola's was covered with sequins and quite revealing.  The dress was vented high and wide on both sides, exposing the curves of Lola's muscular legs all the way up to her glutes as she slinked toward the table in red stiletto heels.  The top of her dress was cut like a bustier, forcing her big honey-brown breasts upward and outward until they appeared ready to pop out, making it clear that her bust was now two full cup sizes bigger than Allison's.  And Lola was ripped.  Her young body was lined with thick angular muscles and gouged with cuts and striations, from her blocky deltoids to her diamond-cut calves and everything in between, including the brickwork abs that showed clearly through her impossibly tight dress.  Lola sneered as she approached Allison, and scoffed at her upraised arm.  "Your tiny biceps look even more like a fleabites than your tiny breasts," Lola sad haughtily, holding her arm up in front of Allison's.  "Now this is a muscle."
        Eyes widened at our table, as well as the surrounding tables, as the sultry 12-year-old Latina slowly flexed her arm, and her bicep began to contract into a peak like a volcano rising from the sea.  Lola smiled as she her bicep slowly grow into an angular double-headed block of muscle bigger than a baseball, a bicep lined with striations and streaked with veins, a bicep that completely blocked Allison's from view as if it were a daisy stem behind a tree trunk.  Allison's face fell as she gawked at the chiseled rock of tween muscle that made her own bicep look small and soft by comparison.
        Lola chuckled as she relaxed her arm, then with no warning, she grabbed Allison's chair by the back posts, and moved it away from the table as if it were light as a feather, as Allison clung to her seat for dear life.  A waiter hurried to place the empty chair next to Kylie, and Lola slid into place like a tiger prowling.  "Thank you for noticing my dress, Senora O'Reilly," Lola said.  "But to be honest, I chose it only because it goes with my favorite earrings."
        Lola tossed her hair back, showing off the gold, pearl and emerald earrings that looked like daisies, which she had stolen from Allison weeks ago.  "That bitch," Allison hissed under her breath.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Good to see Lola come back in the story, looking as awesome as usual, if not more, the hierarchy seems to not have changed at all, even with Allison working out, Lola seems to effortlessly stay in front of her, but of course, Kylie is a distant first place, and most likely always will be. Of course, there are always room for surprises, but somehow I don't see Kylie being removed from the top of the mountain. But a guy can dream. Anyway, good stuff again, k+!

[wissen]

Thank you for Lola's entrance! It's awesome to see how rapidly she develops and surpass Allison in every way Interesting how soon she will surpass Kylie's mom in bust department?

[ame3cv62]

Wow,love the young muscle

[ame3cv62]

Wow,love the young muscle

[grbaclig]

Part 3, Chapter 40

        Over dinner, the girls talked mostly about Kylie, naturally.  Dad and I didn't say much.  We all ordered sushi, and it was so loving arranged on little plates that we had the waiter take pictures of us preparing to eat.  "I have an idea for a picture," Lola said to Kylie, a mischievous glint in her eye.
        Wielding her chopsticks with impressive dexterity, Lola grabbed a piece of sushi an set it on top of her left breast, the pearly white of the rice contrasting against the honey-brown of her skin.  "Hey, that was my sushi," Kylie said with a giggle as she leaned toward Lola, and licked her lips.
        Lola turned to my dad, who was sitting across from her at the table.  "Hey old man," she barked.  "Take a picture of Kylie eating sushi off of my teta," she ordered.  "Make it a good picture."
        Dad was trembling with anger as he steadied his camera, and Kylie leaned over and parted her pouty lips as she drew her face to the jiggling orb of Lola's right breast.  She then took Lola's left tit in her left hand, squeezing it gently as Lola stroked her golden hair.  Dad began taking pictures as Kylie slowly slipped the sticky ball of fish and rice into her mouth, dragging her tongue across the surface of Lola's upthrust boob.  "Mmmm," Kylie purred with satisfaction as she slowly released Lola's breast. 
        "I've missed your body," Lola said, running her hand down Kylie's arm.   I wanted to see you growing, getting bigger and stronger.  Pumping these big hard muscles of yours, over and over."
        "I sent you videos of me with my sparring partners," Kylie said as she straightened her arm and turned her wrist, making her tricep pop out so that it looked like a giant crab claw pinching her elbow.
        "They weren't enough," Lola said.  "I wanted to hear the plates clanking, and taste your sweat."
        Then the waiter returned and freshened our drinks, and Kylie and Lola snapped out of their lusty stupor, giggling and blushing as mom fawned over their young love and dad simmered with frustration.  "Actually I haven't been lifting at all," Kylie said.  "I've been focusing on pure athleticism.  Cardio, flexibility, and functional strength.  And brushing up on my fighting skills, of course."
        "How is that possible?" Allison blurted out.  "You got so much bigger.  You're... gigantic."
        Kylie shrugged.  "I'm a growing girl," she said with a smirk.  "I just keep getting bigger."
        As we ate dinner, Kylie and Lola giggled and flirted as if they were the only people in the restaurant, occasionally trading kisses.  They were oblivious to mom's doting, dad's glowering, Allison's yearning, and my pouting.  As their public displays of affection continued, they drew more and more amazed stares from other tables, where diners gawked at the buxom muscular lesbian lovebirds. 
        After our meal, we picked at our green tea ice cream as Kylie and Lola continued to flirt.  Kylie was playing it cool of course, but Lola was relentlessly sexual, much to dad's obvious displeasure.  "I love the way you lick ice cream," Lola cooed.  "Out of all your muscles, I like your tongue the best."
        Kylie said nothing in response.  Instead she raised a spoonful of ice cream to her perfect red lips, her tongue theatrically playing over the creamy dessert as Lola's eyes burned with salacious intent.  "Oh fuck me," Allison whispered as she blushed, and her nipples stiffened.  "Just... fuck me."
        Lola leaned out of her chair and drew her face near to Kylie's, her EE breasts practically spilling out of her dress, and her eyes burning with salacious intent.  "I'm sick of licking ice cream, I want to lick you," she growled lustily.  "I want to crawl under the table and worship your perfect womanhood with my mouth, right here in front of everyone."
        "That's enough!" dad said loudly, pounding his fists on the table.  "This is disgusting!"
        Kylie's eyes focused on dad and narrowed as she gently pushed Lola back into her seat.  "What was that?" she asked coldly, the corner of her mouth curling into a scowl.  "What did you say?"
        "This little exhibition is disgusting!" dad said, his face red with anger.  "You're my daughter, and I don't want you going out in public dressed like a whore.  And I definitely don't want that little Mexican lesbo slut crawling all over you and saying all those filthy things to you!  There are reporters here!"
        Lola turned her nose up at dad.  "Racist, homophobic and misogynistic," she snorted.  "Well, I hope you know that your hatred will only make your daughter's toto taste even sweeter."
        "You are trash!" dad snarled at Lola.
        Lola laughed as she adjusted her overflowing bustline, the jiggle of her ample bosom drawing gasps of admiration from the onlookers.  But I was focused on Kylie.  Her eyes were wide open and burning with anger, her nostrils were flaring, her breathing was getting heavier, and her muscles were starting to bulge with tension.  "Daddy," Kylie said venomously as her shoulders bloomed with striations across all three heads of her deltoids, and her trapezius muscles thickened so much that they pushed her hair forward, framing her face with a mane of golden curls,  "did you just call my girlfriend a slut?"
        Looking in dad's eyes, I could see the cold water of fear dousing the flames of his anger.  "Kylie, I-I'm so sorry," he stammered, as mom crossed her arms and scowled at him. "I just-"
        "Daddy," Kylie said again, interrupting his apology as her pectoral muscles began to swell out of the plunging neckline like golden brown pumpkins, and her huge tits began to raise and lower with each breath, "did you just call my girlfriend trash?"
        "I don't know what came over me, Kylie," dad whimpered.  "I lost my temper, and I-"
        "Oh, you lost your temper, did you?" Kylie growled as she stood up from the table, her fists clenched so that her biceps balled up like steel cannonballs, her forearms as thick as artillery shells.  "Do you want to see what happens when I lose my temper?  Do you want to see the wrath of a goddess?"
        All over the restaurant, men and women backed up in their chairs as my 13-year-old kid sister walked slowly around the table, her curvaceous body bulging with muscles that were impossibly big and impossibly cut, her gaze intense enough to wither a redwood tree.  "No Kylie please," dad sobbed.
        "Stop! Talking!" Kylie roared, her bare back swelling out from her trim waist with knots of muscle as thick as bricks, as men began to shake in their shoes, and women began to cry with fear.  "Your weakness is even more infuriating than your rudeness!  How dare you speak to me!?"
        As Kylie approached dad, he shrank in his chair, trembling and crying.  At the last minute, mom jumped between them, her humongous boobs bouncing so wildly that they were still jiggling as she began to plead with Kylie.  "No Kylie, please," mom said.  "I couldn't stand to see you get in trouble for killing him.  Besides, this is all my fault.  I've been such a softy, he hasn't learned his place."
        Without looking at mom, Kylie grabbed her by the waist and lifted her out of the way as if she were weightless.   Time seemed to stand still as Kylie glared at dad, dad cowered in his seat, and mom clung to Kylie's massive thigh, begging her daughter to show mercy to her husband.  Finally, Kylie spoke.  "Apologize to Lola," she said.  "If she's satisfied with your apology, I won't crush you."
        Dad spun instantly toward the sultry Latina.  "I'm sorry, Lola," he whined.  "I'm so sorry."
        Lola cackled and leaned back in her chair, lifting a musclebound leg into the air and pointing her red-painted toes at my father.  "Kiss my foot," she said.  "And beg me for my forgiveness."
        Dad reddened with humiliation as he gently pushed his lips against Lola's tiny girly toes.  "Please," he gulped.  "I beg for your forgiveness, Lola.  Please forgive me."
        Lola puckered her lips, as if debating her response, while dad continued to supplicate himself to her.  "Amazons do not accept apologies from men," she said at last.  "However, they may be satisfied with the humiliation of men, and forgive men of their transgressions.  And I am satisfied."
        With that, Kylie's steady smile returned, and her muscles relaxed as she turned away from dad.  The entire restaurant breathed a sigh of relief as Kylie motioned for the bill, and we readied ourselves to leave.  As we stood up from the table, I noticed that Allison's chair was soaking wet.  When I looked up again, she was staring right at me.  "Don't you dare judge me," she said.  "Don't say a word."

        The next morning, Allison and I were awoken by a knock on the door.  A concierge hurried us up and down to the lobby, where he showed us into a limousine where mom and dad were waiting for us.  "Kylie arranged for a special surprise for us," mom beamed.  "She's so considerate."
        Dad was still shaken and bleary-eyed from his brush with death the night before, but his face began to brighten as we pulled into a luxury car dealership, where a white Lamborghini Huracan sat in the middle of a small empty lot, with a big red bow on top.  "Hey," dad squeaked.  "That's the car of my dreams right there.  You don't think that... You don't think that Kylie bought it for me, do you?"
        As we piled out of the limo, a second car showed up, and Kylie and Lola exited clad in full-length coats, their breath fogging in the winter morning.  Kylie took a small box from her pocket and opened it as she presented it to dad.  Dad's eyes sparkled with joy as he lifted a set of keys out of the box and ran his fingers over the Lamborghini logos emblazoned on them.  "Kylie, I don't know how to thank you," dad said, his voice choked with disbelief and sentiment.  "This means a lot to me."
        "No need to thank me, daddy," Kylie said with a smile.  "This is a gift, and it's also a lesson."

[Jeremy Lightning]

Hmm, very nice stuff, I'm wondering what the whole lesson is going to be, I'm guessing Kylie's dad's car isn't going to be driven at all, because she's going to smash it to bits in front of him. Also, loved the intense lesbian interplay between Lola and Kylie, these girls definitely do not look or act their age, so it's sort of hard to really think of  them being 12 and 13 years old, both are so smart, strong, and sexy that it's kind of okay to think of them that way despite their age.