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Old 20-Dec-13, 23:20
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Default Art Inspired Story

Here's a little short story I wrote based on this awesome piece of fight-themed artwork.

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I hope you guys like it!

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Thomas circled his opponent on the faded blue wrestling mat, his senses on high alert. He was hyper-aware of his rival’s movements, of her body; it was young and pink-kneed and supple in all the right ways, much like his own twelve year old frame. A pair of last year’s bloomers hugged her lap, and a form-fitting white t-shirt hid her robust chest and budding six-pack abs. Two years of gymnastics had chiseled her long legs into potential weapons: taut whips primed to lash out, or perhaps fibrous ropes made for wrapping and strangling. Thomas watched those lethal legs stalk across the mat, fascinated by their beauty, intimidated by their promise of power.

The legs belonged to the tallest, strongest girl in Thomas’s year: a Japanese transfer student named Yuki Kurasawa. Yuki was an Amazonian eighth grader—the envy of every girl on her gymnastics squad and future scourge of the boys’ grappling team. Her mother was a wealthy businesswoman, as well as a proud single parent, and shades of the older women’s tenacity showed in her daughter’s angular features.

As Thomas padded closer to the Amazon—his shoes ghosting across the mat—his eyes caught hers, and the meeting of glares sent the boy’s mind tumbling back to his first encounter with Yuki. He recalled her tall, sinewy frame standing before his homeroom class, with his teacher Mr. Rice towering beside her, his leathery palm resting on her shoulder. She had intimidated him then, even while dressed in her unassuming school uniform, and her presence on the mat affected him in a similar way now.

‘Present’ was the best word Thomas could think of to describe her. Yuki was present; she filled every room she stood in.

“Come on, Tommy!” Jacob shouted from the sidelines, cupping one palm around his mouth as if needing to project his voice very far. “Quit shaking like a scared girl scout and get after her already!”

Tommy swallowed hard at the sound of his friend’s voice, and his cheeks and brow caught fire, burning a bright shade of crimson. His other friends haloed the mat as well—Daniel and Ricky and Bruce—along with most of the boys’ grappling team. Each of them sat cross-legged on the gym’s hardwood floor, or crouched on their rosy knees, eyes glued to the circling combatants. School was out for the day, if anyone of the boarding school staff caught them loitering in the gym, they would be harshly reprimanded, maybe even spanked.

Yuki was the only girl in the gym, the sole female wrestler, and Thomas new that if he lost this match—lost to a girl—his friends would never let him live it down. As the third best wrestler on the team, and being the kind of person with a reputation to uphold, Thomas was no longer sure why he’d agreed to roll with the young Amazon. As far as he could tell, he had stumbled into a lose-lose situation of the worst kind. On the one hand, loosing the match would mean losing to a girl—a grievance his masculine pride would never recover from, but on the other hand, winning meant beating up a girl. If television, movies and videogames had taught Tommy anything, it was that men—real men—weren’t supposed to fight girls. But then… they weren’t supposed to lose to them either…

Distracted by the thought, he stopped circling and tossed a sideways glance and Jacob, who was crouched on his knees and grinning like he’d just one state championships for the third year in a row. This was all Jacob’s doing. The wily trickster had bamboozled Tommy yet again, this time goading him into an unwinnable match with the new kid.

Not bad. After dispatching this new opponent, Tommy would have to dream up a clever way to top his friend’s latest prank.

While he was distracted with thoughts of revenge—his eyes fixed on Jacob instead of the nearly four-foot tall task ahead of him—Yuki darted in close and tackled Thomas, spearing him in the gut while simultaneously scooping the back of his knees with both arms. The takedown was stronger than it was fast, and Thomas took note of his opponent’s speed deficiency, even as his stomach folded and his back thudded against the mat.

A roaring laugh shot up toward the ceiling. It was Jacob, that smug little—

A second lapse in focus granted Yuki enough time to scurry into a full mount, her tan thighs straddling Thomas’s waist.

“No fair,” he huffed. “Do over’s—I wasn’t ready yet!”

Yuki chuckled as she bore down on his chest. “Damn right, you aren’t ready,” she jeered, her course language earning surprised looks from Tommy and the others.

Thomas bridged, trying to shuck Yuki off his lap, but she grabbed his wrists and pinned them on either side of his head. Her thighs clamped around his hips, holding him still, and red marks bloomed where her strong fingers gripped the delicate skin of his wrists.

He wiggled beneath her, gauging the sturdiness of her base. A cocky smile flashed across his pale features, and a second later his legs leapt off the mat and coiled around Yuki’s middle, crossing at his ankles. A downward tug sent her toppling to her back, and a quick roll left her pinned facedown on her chest.

Thomas kept his legs locked around her middle, his head facing the same way as her feet. She tried to scramble away, or into a better position, but he broke his body scissor and tucked both her shins beneath his armpits, catching her in the beginnings of a boston crab. Grunting, he sat up on her tailbone and leaned his shoulders back, folding Yuki’s spine as he wrenched her legs off the mat.

The boys haloing the mat gawked at Yuki as she wriggled and thrashed beneath Thomas, their eyes tracing the curves of her folded legs, the plane of her raised pelvis. Thomas peeped as well, his gaze dropping to her splayed thighs, her fabric-covered crotch, and a sudden heat swelled just below his stomach. The sensation was foreign. He’d rolled with dozens of boys in the past, and submitted most of them with his hallmark boston crab, but this was different—Yuki was different—her body was hard and soft at the same time, her muscles firm, her skin velveteen, and her will seemingly unbreakable. Most of the boys would have tapped by now, but she endured with a pitbull's stubbornness, even as hurt whimpers flitted from her mouth.

Ignoring the strange, distracting warmth between his legs, Thomas shut his eyes, drew a deep breath and threw his head back, wrenching as hard as he could. His butt scooted higher up on Yuki’s back, deepening the curve in her spine, and his heels raised off the mat, the toes of his shoes digging into the pliant mix of canvas and foam.

Yuki cried out. Her fingers clawed the mat, then raked through her navy blue locks, tugging at them. Sweat streamed down her flushed cheeks, and her eyes clamped shut, her brow furrowed by an ugly grimace. Hurt noises drifted from her parted lips up to Tommy’s ears, making his loins burn hotter.

“Gotcha,” he jeered, surprised at how much he was enjoying himself. “Come on now, let’s see that tap out.” Smirking, he placed both hands on his victim’s knees and cranked her body harder, folding her until the tips of her shoes nearly touched her head.

Still, she refused to tap. Her body was flexible as well as strong—a bundle of reeds shaped like a twelve year old girl. She held out until Tommy’s muscles ached from prolonged strain, and the second his arms slackened, she made her move.

Squeezing her hands into tight fists, she drove her knuckles into the mat and trusted herself up with a push-up-like motion. Tommy gave a start but managed to maintain his grip. His smirk vanished, and veins spidered across the pale skin covering his biceps as he struggled to hold Yuki still. But it was no use; he couldn’t begin to match her Amazonian strength.

With a grunt and a prodigious show of power, Yuki kicked her legs down toward the mat, flipping Thomas off her back in the process. He came down on his back with a thump, his chest pinned under Yuki’s lap. And just like that he was beneath her once again. Pinned. All but helpless.

“Nice try,” Yuki taunted, “but I seriously hope that wasn’t your best.”

An angry remark formed on Tommy’s tongue. But before it escaped his mouth, Yuki bore her chest down on his face and locked her arms around his head, smothering both his words and his breath. In the same move, she coiled her legs around his, catching him a grapevine pin. A laugh rumbled up her throat, not cruel but playful—minx-like. Her arms squeezed his head, threatening to crush it, while her legs splayed his thighs wide.

He pushed a groan into her chest, gasping, and his palms shoved at her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh beneath her bloomers. His cheeks flushed as the strange heat between his legs grew hotter and hotter. He bucked his hips, tossed, thrashed—struggling against both the Amazon on his chest and tightness in his shorts.

“Come on, Tommy! Don’t let her manhandle you like that!” The shout reached Tommy’s ears from miles out, sounding like a distant echo. More echoes rose up; he could barely hear them over Yuki’s breathing, or the steady thump, thump, thump of her heart hammering his face. Was she already tired? Nervous? The heave in her chest hinted at fatigue, but the biceps crushing his skull betrayed no signs of tiring or relenting.

Tommy’s own chest heaved as he struggled in vain to suck air through Yuki’s shirt, his nose and mouth mashed against her humble chest. A sweet, earthy scent flitted up his nostrils—her scent—like dew-speckled leaves sprouting from the branches of rainforest trees. The smell overwhelmed his senses, as did the sheer weight and closeness of her body. His wiggles soon turned to writhes, and clouds of blackness began creeping across his eyes, starting at the corners and skulking across his irises.

Moments before he passed out, Yuki released him from the breast-smother pin and roped her arms around his neck instead. Her biceps flexed, ballooning around his jugular, and one of her hands grabbed the bulbous muscle, while the other slid up to cover Tommy’s mouth. His own hands grabbed at her arms, tried to wrench them away, but Yuki flexed harder, quelling his attempts to wriggle free.

Her legs splayed even wider, and so did his, stretching him well past his limits. He panted into her silky palm, and the color drained from his face.

“Submit,” she huffed in his ear, her lips grazing his earlobe. When he refused, she broke the grapevine, rolled to her side and lashed her long, lethal legs around his body. Red cheeks mashed together, hers and his, and steamy pants blasted the side of Tommy’s neck.

Her body went slack for one long collection of seconds, and she felt soft against him, almost pleasant. Then she drew a sharp breath and flexed her arms, her legs, her stomach, each muscle group swelling and rippling in perfect harmony with the others. Her biceps swallowed his neck whole, and her toned, sweat-glistened thighs compressed the sides of his torso, bruising the skin under his shirt.

“Tap,” she breathed, the word low and hollow. Her cheek burned against his, and her rainforest scent had grown muggy from their mingling sweat.

Seeing no other way out, his brain addled by arousal and a lack of air, Thomas returned Yuki’s bodyscissor with a bearhug, trapping her middle between his arms. He grabbed his elbows with each hand and flexed his biceps, hard—harder than he thought possible—but the power in his arms couldn’t begin to match the strength in all four of Yuki’s limbs.

He squeezed. She squeezed back. He rolled facedown, and, lying on her back now, she stretched her legs high and squeezed his body and neck all the harder.

“I said tap,” she growled.

Tap…? Was that an option? Could he submit to a girl? Yes, he was beaten—perfectly out matched, out classed and out foxed—but could he admit it? Was he strong enough for that?

In a spasmodic fit of new energy—new purpose—Tommy dug his shoes into the mat, steadied his hips, bent his knees, angled them, readied them for his finale stand.

And then he lifted her, his arms lower now, hands clasped beneath her firm rear. Her grip slackened at the jolt of being hoisted up, but she held on, arms still lashed around his neck, thighs still hugging his middle. They held each other like lovers, or perhaps just close friends, each taking a measure of pleasure in the other’s embrace.

The sudden lightness of Yuki’s frame astounded Thomas as he held her close to his chest. Down on the mat she had seemed an indomitable force—a hurricane given limbs, an earthquake that walked like a woman—but on his feet Thomas could see that Yuki was only human. Not an Amazon, but a normal girl. A kid like himself.

Just a kid. Good. Then he still had a chance.

Pushing off the ball of his right foot, he took one… two… three steps, and then dove forward, snapping his shoulders down and slamming Yuki back-first into the mat. The impact sent a jolt scrambling up his arms, his bones rattling beneath flushed, sweat-damp skin. His muscles ached. His lungs burned. He was exhausted, the last of his stamina spent on that final desperate attack.

Yuki didn’t budge.

Undeterred, she unlaced her ankles, spread her legs, tweaked her position ever so slightly, and then snapped her thighs around his middle and resumed grinding his ribs into powder. She rolled onto her side and tucked his head beneath her armpit, adding a tight guillotine choke to her bodyscissor.

A few of the boys shouted at Thomas, encouraging him to break free and fight back. Others spat teases and laughed. Others still remained silent, entranced by Yuki’s dominate performance.

Jacob sat on folded legs, his rear resting on his heels. His cocky smirk had evaporated, replaced by a look or discomfort, and his cheeks burned bright red.

“Don’t be… so stubborn,” Yuki panted, her heaving chest slamming into Tommy’s. “Just give up. It’s obvious you can’t win… everyone here knows it…” She switched from a straight-legged bodyscissor to a figure-four, and her back arched as she tightened her two-pronged hold. “…that is… everyone... but... you...” she grunted, driving her hips into him as she poured on the pressure.

Everyone but him…? No, Yuki was wrong about that. Thomas knew he was beaten; he had known the moment she broke his boston crab. But he couldn’t admit defeat to a girl, couldn’t bring himself to tap out. He wiggled in her vice grip, grabbed at her hands, kicked, squirmed, fought till his last breath.

A baseball-sized bicep flexed against his neck, and thighs like small logs dug into his sides, making him whine and bleat and whimper and cough and groan and pant and…

…and then he fell silent and still, his body limp, his grimace replaced by a tranquil expression…

He fell asleep in Yuki’s arms, between her legs, and it took the Amazon a few seconds to grasp her victory. She squeezed him for a bit longer, making sure he was out, then released her napping opponent and laid him down on his back, cupping the nape of his neck in one gentle palm.

“Stupid boy,” she said, smiling down at him. He looked so peaceful, almost happy.

Some of the boys shouted boos. Others cheered. Jacob excused himself, cupping his privates as he scurried off to the nearest restroom.

And Thomas slept, seeming perfectly content with it all.
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Old 21-Dec-13, 11:54
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Default Re: Art Inspired Story

Loved it, uw!
Good to see you back too!
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