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Sibling Self-Defense
This story’s a little different from my usual fare. I wrote it as a request for @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register], and I thought I’d share it with all of you as well. Enjoy!
I should have noticed the signs that Tamara was starting to toughen up. The gym visits. The MMA classes. The lean muscles starting to build up. Even the attitude, that little bit of extra willingness not to back down from a confrontation. I should have noticed the signs. But I didn’t. Because I couldn’t think of Tamara as anything other than my little sister: quiet, small, completely unintimidating. Until that day. We’d gotten in an argument, which was rare enough on its own. Tammy wanted to go out to a concert for some boy-band she liked, late at night in a venue downtown. With our parents gone, I was keeping an eye on her, and obviously I put my foot down. There was no way I’d let her go out alone at night, I told her. It was too dangerous, especially for a young girl in a crowded city. She’d be bound to get hurt. Better to just stay here and watch it on TV. Her lips pursed, and she glared at me. She was wearing makeup, bright red lipstick contrasting dark blue eyeshadow, and had put her hair back in a complicated braid—she’d put a lot of effort into getting ready for tonight. And she wasn’t ready to hear a “no”. “You don’t think I can protect myself?” she asked, staring me dead in the eye. That should have been another warning. The eye contact, I mean. Tammy didn’t do staredowns. At least, she didn’t before. “No, I don’t,” I said bluntly, completely missing the hint. She looked at me for another couple of seconds, slate-gray eyes sweeping from my head to my toes and back. I’d realize later that she’d been sizing me up. Judging whether or not my weight and muscle would prove to be a problem for her. But at that moment, she just seemed mad that I’d ordered her not to go. She walked right past me and headed for the door. Another red flag. The Tamara I knew would never have ignored me like that, like she knew there was nothing I could do to stop her. Missed it again. All I saw was a little girl throwing a tantrum. I grabbed her shoulder tightly to keep her from going anywhere, and promptly ran out of warnings. She grabbed my arm and pivoted her hips, launching me into a textbook judo throw that slammed me to the floor. I was instantly seeing stars, and that wasn’t the worst that was coming. She dropped down to the ground next to me, and wrapped her newly-muscled legs around me, locking in an excruciating bodyscissors. I gasped as her thighs tightened with stunning force around my midsection. “Tammy, what the fuck...ahh...do you think you’re doing…” “Proving you wrong,” she said simply. “You think I’m unprotected. Defenseless. Weak.” She punctuated each word with a crushing squeeze, and I moaned in agony. “Well,” she went on, “how about now?” I shook my head frantically. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point—” “No,” Tamara said, cutting me off. “I really don’t think I have. I think you need a better demonstration.” She shifted her scissors, loosening it just enough to slip up my chest and close tightly around my neck. I gasped for air as her thighs constricted around my unprotected throat. How was she doing this? When had she gotten so strong? I pawed at her legs futilely, and felt only dense muscle where I’d half expected to be squeezing baby fat. “Tap out if you think I could take out a mugger or a rapist with this,” she ordered me. I hastened to obey, squashing any ounce of pride I had left in a desperate attempt to make her stop, and tapped rapidly on the ground. A submission. The first, but not the last. Tamara changed positions again, pushing me to a sitting position and rolling behind me. Her legs clasped my body just under my ribcage, in the soft flesh of my sides, as her arm snaked around my throat into a sleeperhold. She’d immobilized me utterly, only able to move if she wished it. “What about this one?” she asked, and I tapped weakly, squirming in vain to try to escape the hold. “Nuh-uh, not good enough,” she said, and my heart sank. “Like you mean it.” I banged on the floor with all my strength—which wasn’t much, by now. “Tammy...this has...gone far enough...let me out…” She released me for a second, and I thought for a second that my ordeal was over. “Okay, I admit it—” She grabbed me roughly and forced me into one more move: a triangle choke, I realized with horror as she pulled it tight. I pressed with all my might against the force of the hold, but the jarring force of the judo throw and her succession of attacks after it had weakened me, while my sister was still at the top of her game. I couldn’t so much as budge her. “Tammy...come on…” I wheezed. “One more tap-out,” she demanded, and I gave it to her without a second’s hesitation, thumping on the floor with a free hand. “I did it—now let me out!” She tsk’ed at me. “Where are your manners, big bro? Let me out…” “...Please,” I begged her. “Please let me out.” She held the choke for the longest moment of my entire life, then started to loosen it. Gradually. Little by little. I gasped as sweet oxygen rushed into my lungs. Finally, she uncrossed her legs and stood up—and offered me a hand up, as I lay dazed on the ground. I stared at her for a second as she stood over me. The light fixtures on the ceiling seemed unbearably bright as they silhouetted her round face, and as my eyes adjusted to the glow I noticed that she was smirking at me. Her makeup hadn’t even been smeared. I took her hand. She pulled me to my feet with barely any effort, and looked me in the eye once again. “Still think it’s dangerous for me out there? Or am I the dangerous one?” I hung my head in shame. “Just...go.” She nodded. “Remember, if you underestimate me again I can always teach you another lesson.” As the door closed behind Tamara, I slumped down heavily on the couch, trying to process what had just happened. She had just...and I had… How? It shouldn’t have been possible. Everything I knew about my little sister told me that she could never have done something like this (beat you up with no effort at all, an insidious voice in my head whispered, and force you to beg her for mercy) in a million years. But she had. And now I had to live with it. If there was any small consolation to be drawn from the whole thing, it was that Tamara—I couldn’t think of her as “Tammy” anymore—didn’t seem to be too inclined to rub it in. Or inclined at all, really. None of her friends looked at me as if anything were different. She didn’t put the story on social media, even as she excitedly posted about how well her MMA classes were going. And she even got back from the concert before my parents made it home. Neither they, nor anyone else we knew, ever found out that anything was amiss. But she knew. And I knew. And that was enough. |
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#2
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Re: Sibling Self-Defense
Great story! Really enjoyed it!
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#3
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Re: Sibling Self-Defense
I liked it too.
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#4
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Re: Sibling Self-Defense
Outstanding!
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#5
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Re: Sibling Self-Defense
What belt does she has in judo? Picture of her in miniskirt?
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#6
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Re: Sibling Self-Defense
Quote:
As for a picture, Tamara is unfortunately a fictional character and I’m not good enough at art to illustrate my stories, so you’ll just have to use your imagination as far as that’s concerned. |
#7
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Re: Sibling Self-Defense
Please continue, mate!
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#8
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Re: Sibling Self-Defense
Great story that was well told. The build up to Tammy slamming her brother to the ground made the story even better. She doesn’t even he e to be a black belt to achieve the victory she did over brother. She put in her time and training and we don’t know what she did before she started her training. She could’ve been involved in some kind of sports activity.
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little sister, scissors, siblings |
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