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Old 08-Dec-18, 04:35
Mr. Purple Mr. Purple is offline
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Default Crossfit Katie - The Kickass College Coed

Note - This is a spinoff from Honeybun Pumps Iron. If you care about plot, you may want to read entries 2 and 3 of that story before reading this. If you only want to read about a really hot girl beating up and humiliating a guy, then dive right in.

Also, Katie likes to break the fourth wall, so if you feel she’s insulting you or being mean to you, please remember that it’s her opinion and in no way represents mine (Mr. Purple).

When Mom let me have my way with Dad, she’d hoped it’d inspire me to find a guy like him. At the time, it was all I could do not to burst out laughing. But damn if she hadn’t been right. After midterm break, I returned to college reinvigorated with a new purpose. It was time to ditch the pretty boys, muscleheads, and poseurs I usually took home, and find a worthy boyfriend.

I had a high set of standards though. I wanted a guy with the brains, wit, kindness, moral character, and large penis of my dad, but taller, with big muscles, athletic ability, and rugged good looks (kinda like my big brother).

Winning such a great guy wasn’t my biggest problem though. I’m stone cold gorgeous. I’ve been able to get any man I’ve wanted since before I hit puberty. Half the reason I’m the awesome athlete I am is because my parents were so worried about me being molested that they stuck me in every martial arts class and sports program in the county from the time I could walk.

They were right to worry. Just two examples - when the cops busted my seventh grade English teacher for child porn, they also found a whole bunch of videos of me he’d secretly been taking with his Iphone. The next year, at a gymnastics tournament, a coach was caught hiding behind the bleachers with her (yes her) shorts down, furiously fingering herself while I was doing my balance beam routine.

Whatever girl your thinking about while you jerk off to this story, imagine her twice as hot. That’s maybe half as hot as I am. So I wasn’t worried about winning the guy, but after watching Dad get so turned on by my jacked muscles, I had one more requirement for my perfect boyfriend. I didn’t want him to only lust after my long honey blond locks, my emerald eyes, my beautiful face, my flawless golden skin, my long shapely legs, or even my incredible D cup breasts that no one believes are real unless they’re lucky enough to touch them.

Now, I also wanted that guy to lust after the delts that let me press twice my bodyweight overhead, the pecs that could make my awesome boobs dance when I flexed them, the thighs that could crack walnuts between them, the rock hard eight pack abs you could grate cheese on, not to mention the biceps that exploded off my arms when I flexed them.

Of course, I know there are plenty of guys who like those things, including the ones reading this. But let’s face it, most of you are wimpy pervs who shouldn’t be allowed within a mile of someone as hot as me. Kind of like the guy who’s been following me around all morning as I go from class to class, thinking I haven’t spotted him.

I’ll deal with him before the end of this story, but first, I went to the university gym to see if I could find any likely candidates. I did most of my workout quietly, wearing the bulky tracksuit I always put on when I don’t want attention. Once done with that, I walked to the chin-up bar and stripped down to my sports bra and lycra short shorts. Every guy within eyeshot looked my way, but I wanted everyone watching.

I started doing muscle ups (pull up on the bar, then keep going until you’ve pushed your body over the top of the bar, repeat). Normally, you crank these out as fast you can since it’s a timed event, but I went nice and slow. When I cleared the top of the bar everyone in the place could see me. Within a minute, there were long lines for all the exercise equipment near me, as if the whole gym suddenly decided they needed to do lat raises and shoulder presses.

Once I had a crowd, I struck the pose I’d used on Daddy, arms held at 90 degrees so my biceps really popped, legs stuck out in front of me so my 8 pack abs rippled. When I’d done this for Dad, he’d stared far more at my guns than my tits. So all I had to do was scan the crowd of horny men (and more than a few women) and see who was looking where.

Good looking surfer dude - tits. Cool theater major grad student - tits. The football team’s massive starting tight end - my tight end (sorry, couldn’t help myself). Sure there were plenty of people looking at my muscles (interestingly enough, they were the ones most likely to have their hands shoved into their pockets to try and surreptitiously jack off).

Unfortunately, the only two hot enough to be promising were the young psych professor, who I knew was married, and the chemistry TA that my roommate had a crush on. I have a rule against married men and it’s a lot easier for me to find guys than to find female friends. Still, if those two had been turned on by my girl power, there must be more who aren’t claimed.

After I showered up, I had a good hour before my afternoon class so I figured now would be a good time to deal with my stalker. I walked down the deserted alley between the science and engineering buildings, set my gym bag down, and pretended to be searching for something inside. A minute later, he walked down the alley, acting as if he was just cutting through, until he got close and charged me.

I danced away until my back was to the science building wall. He followed and when he got within arms reach, he said, “Don’t move and I won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, please don’t,” I squealed in mock terror. He extended one hand toward my tits. I slapped it away. He tried with the other. I slapped that one as well.

His face turned red. “I told you not to move,” he said angrily. He charged me with both hands extended as if to grab me. I backhanded him across the cheek just hard enough to stop his advance. He was practically frothing at the mouth now. “All right, I warned you.” He swung his fist at me.

I caught it by the wrist, easily bringing it to a halt. He tried to pull it back but found he couldn’t budge it as my strength vastly dwarfed his. He was skinny, and maybe an inch shorter than my 5’10”. He must have been really stupid too. I mean, he’d been following me around all day, how could he have thought he could take me? Macho arrogance is one thing, but this was just insane.

Not catching on yet, he swung his other fist. Which meant that now I had both his wrists locked tight in my hands. I could have dropped him any of a dozen ways. But this was what you’d call a teachable moment. He needed to be humiliated, for his own good of course.

“Let me go, you bitch. I’m warning you.” Ignoring his rude request, I instead wrapped my right arm around his left, pinning it against my side so he couldn’t pull away. I then rammed his right hand into his face. I did it again.

“Why are you hitting yourself?” I asked. I repeated the motion, first against his mouth, then his nose.

“Hey, cut it out.”

I did it again. “Stop hitting yourself,” I told him, slapping him in the cheek. He furiously tried to break free, but I was way too strong. I slapped him again. Tears welled into his eyes.

“Aww, baby going to cry. Is he getting beat up by a girl using his own hand?” I slapped him again. Tears streamed down his face. “Baby need a tissue? Want to cry for mommy? Maybe you want to call for help? Oh, but you attacked me. I guess I have a right to beat the little sissy boy as much as I want.” I slapped him again.

“Stop.” Snot started to drip from his nose and his breath started to hitch like he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“No,” I replied, casually smacking him all about his face with the back of his own hand.

Openly weeping, he begged, “Please stop, please, please stop. I’ll do anything you say.”

I paused the slap attack. “Ok, drop your pants.”


“You heard me.”

“No, I’m not going to do that.” I rammed his hand back against his nose.

“Suit yourself. Beating you is fun.”

Just as I was about to hit him again, he said, “Ok, ok, I’ll do it.”

I released him. I watched him look down the alley, thinking about running for it. “If you so much as move from this spot, losing your pants will be the least terrible thing to happen to you,” I told him. He looked back at me towering over him. He bowed his head in acknowledgement of my feminine superiority, and dropped his pants. “Now the underwear.”

He wanted to refuse, but he was too terrified, so instead he asked, “But why?”

“Why not,” I answered. “You would have done the same to me if you’d had the chance.”

Tears dripping off his cheeks, he did as ordered. I pushed him back for a better look. His weinie was rock hard, but only 3 inches long and no thicker than my index finger. “Somebody likes getting beaten up by strong girls,” I mocked him. If I’d flexed my biceps, I had no doubt he’d spew, but he didn’t deserve that kind of pleasure.

Some of you reading this probably think I’m an evil bitch, but you’re absolutely incorrect. If I were evil, I’d have taken my foot and kicked his marble sized balls into his throat, then I’d have broken both his arms to make sure he’d never try this on another woman less able to defend herself. But since I am a good person, I had him pull up his pants and frog marched him to campus security.

Just before we walked in, I said, “You’re going to confess to how you tried to attack me. You’re going to keep confessing to anyone who asks. They’ll ban you from campus for a semester, give you a year’s probation, 80 hours of community service, and mandatory counseling.”

He stared at me in shock. “How could you possibly know all that?”

“Are you kidding? If I had a nickel for everytime I dragged some creep over here, well, I’d have a lot of nickels. Now, if you don’t do exactly what I said, do the community service and all the counseling, some night I’m going to beat the crap out of you and tie you naked to that flag pole,” I told him, pointing to the pole in the center of the quad.

His eyes widened and he quivered with fear. “No, no, I’ll do exactly what you said. I promise, please believe me.”

He must have remembered how last semester they’d found a naked, beaten, male student tied to that very pole. They never did find out who did it, wink, wink.

If there’s interest and I’m in the mood, next time I’ll tell you about my sparring match with a 6th degree black belt that went very, very wrong.
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Old 08-Dec-18, 10:56
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Default Re: Crossfit Katie - The Kickass College Coed

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Old 26-Dec-18, 02:38
Mr. Purple Mr. Purple is offline
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Default Re: Crossfit Katie - The Kickass College Coed

(Authors note - As before, remember that if Katie insults you, it’s her opinion, not mine - Mr. Purple.)

As I do most Friday’s, I went to the Dojo right off campus where I pick up some extra cash teaching classes. The Dojo Master starred in a number of cheesy Asian action flicks back in the 70’s and 80’s and is well respected in the MMA world. So quite often we get guest instructors who visit and train with us for a few days. Today, we had a 6th degree black belt from Korea, Pak Jong-in, helping out.

Pak looked to be in his late twenties. A hair shorter than me, he was short for my tastes, but he had a dark, sexy face and a strong, agile body. Since it wasn’t a school night, I thought it might be nice to spend a fun night with him. During a break, I asked him if he’d like a match with me after classes were over. He agreed but smirked, that might have tipped me off, but I’m used to teaching men not to underestimate me so I ignored it.

I often lock up for the owner on Fridays, so we were the last ones there. We agreed on Taekwondo rules but instead of three 2 minute rounds, we’d go a straight ten minutes with standard scoring.

He was a bit heavier than me but I had a height and reach edge, it should be a fair match. He came in quick, I blocked a side kick, faked a spear hand strike, then threw a front kick. He sidestepped and landed a back kick to my side. “Nice,” I said, “1-0 you.”

We circled, each missing a couple of kicks, and I dodged a hammer fist. He landed a roundhouse kick just above my waist. “2-nothing you,” I said.

“No, 3-0. Spinning kick to the body is 2 points,” he replied.

“That was a roundhouse,” I said.

“No spinning.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, 3-0 you.” He started to throw a straight kick, but I’d caught his timing and landed an axe kick to the side of his head. “3 all,” I said. He grimaced at me but nodded. He got fancy with a jump kick but I sidestepped and landed my own back kick to his chest. “4-3 me,” I said.

He made a low growl. We circled and threw a couple of blocks, then I landed a roundhouse kick to his head. “7-3, me.” He launched an actual spinning kick that I blocked with my upper arm.

“7-5 you,” he said. He’d clearly not landed on my body, but I just said fine in an annoyed tone. I understand being ultra competitive and arguing a close call in a match, but this was supposed to be a fun, pre-sex workout.

It didn’t do him any good though, I was quicker, more agile, and had a reach advantage. I slowly built up a bigger and bigger lead. When the timer rang, “22-12, me. Good match,” I said, bowing. I was about to suggest a quick meal then back to his hotel room.

He ignored my bow and stalked off to the corner. He ripped off his head gear, chest protector, and gloves. He screamed something in Korean, then said, “Take off stupid gear. Fight me MMA style. No woman beat me in real fight.” He stepped towards me, fist clenched, face enraged.

Oh, poo, I thought, he’s a misogynistic asshole. I wasn’t afraid to fight him without gear, but I’m far too beautiful to risk a broken nose over some jerk’s bruised male ego. “Hard pass,” I said walking around him. I began to pack my own gear into my gym bag when something whizzed a half inch from my head and slammed into the bag.

Pak pulled back one of Sensei’s bamboo swords and waved it in front of my face. “You fight me or I beat you into the floor with this.” He feinted at me with it.

I slid back, hands raised. “Are you off your meds or something? I asked. He advanced towards me waving the sword. If I was quick and lucky, I could dodge and get inside and take the thing from him, but he was fast enough that I didn’t like my odds. Fighting him unarmed would be much smarter. “Fine,” I said. I tossed off my remaining gear and raised my fists. “Drop the sword and lets do it, anything goes. Unless you think you need that thing to beat me,” I taunted him.

“Bah.” He tossed the sword aside then he peeled off his gi. He went into that famous Bruce Lee pose, the one where his fists are near his waist and every muscle is tensed.

I decided two could play that game. I tossed off my own gi and struck the same pose. My pecs pushed my big breasts hard against my sports bra, my eight pack rippled, and every muscle in my arms stood out. His arms might have been a little bigger, but they didn’t look as hard, and compared to mine, his abs were soft as Charmin. He looked at me with lust and maybe a little fear. I ran my index finger between my breasts down to my crotch. “Just think, you could have been riding this all night long if you weren’t such an enormous dickhead.”

His face turned read and he snarled in rage. “Maybe I still will once I show you your place.” He charged toward me and leapt into a flying side kick. I’d guessed he might try some showboating move so I went into a modified Jean Claude Van Damme, drop into a split and punch up. I normally don’t like hitting a guy in the balls, but Pak was dangerous, so if I could, I’d rather take him down fast.

Unfortunately, my punch landed in his rear, but it threw him off so he landed in a heap. Still, he was up by the time I cartwheeled back to my feet. He came in more serious this time, throwing punches and sidekicks. I blocked the ones to my face and sides hoping he’d go for the most tempting target. Sure enough, he threw a hook to my left tit. Maybe he thought I had implants and that he’d burst it. If you’ve been reading this though, you know I don’t, so while it hurt like hell, it was worth it because it left him wide open for me to smash a straight right into his left eye.

His head snapped back and I followed with a kick right into the stomach that sent him sprawling to the floor. “Stay down,” I warned him, “It’s pretty clear you’re no match for me.”

He kipped up to his feet. “I am going to beat your face in,” he screamed. I blew him a kiss and waved him forward. His left eye was already swelling up nicely so I circled to my right. He leapt in, grabbed my waist and tried to wrestle me to the ground. I wrestled in high school so my ground game is almost as good as my stand up, but on my feet I had a clear speed and reach advantage so I fought to keep him from throwing me. I quickly moved backward and rammed my elbow into the side of his head. He had to let me go to keep from falling.

Someone less angry would have backed off and reset, but he tried to go straight into a roundhouse kick. It left him completely open. I hopped in, wrapped my right arm around his thigh and pulled in on it, which gave my left forearm a ton of force behind it as I slammed it into his nose. I felt it squish inward. His head flew back and I used his still trapped leg to drive him hard onto the mat. I dropped my knee into his gut.

His nose was dripping blood and he gasped in pain. “Ok, we’re done here,” I said, “get the hell out and don’t come back.” I then did something really stupid. I walked away.

He slammed into my back. I managed to keep my feet but he grabbed my right arm, spun me around, and started slamming his right fist into my stomach. I won’t lie to you, it really hurt, but like I keep telling you, my abs are really strong, so while I won’t lie to you, I certainly lied to him. I forced myself up straight and said, “You hit like a girl and when I say a girl, I mean the preschool kind, not me.” I slapped my eight pack. “C’mon, try harder.”

He reared his hand back for a huge punch. The nice thing about knowing where your opponent is going to attack is it gives you all the advantages. As his fist came in, I broke my right arm free, grabbed his wrist with both hands, and pulled him towards me so I could use his own strength to help me drive my right knee into his chest. I heard successive cracks as I busted two of his ribs.

“Ahh, ahh,” he moaned, stumbling back. I wanted to end this. I was going to make sure he was done. Time for my own fancy footwork. I launched into my own flying sidekick. The plan was to plant my foot squarely in his face and knock him out. Unfortunately, maniac that he was, he chose just that moment to charge me again. So our combined weight met where the heel of my foot connected with his jaw. My foot was fine, his jaw broke with a loud snap.

He toppled to the floor. I figured that had to be it, right. No, he leapt up, ran over to the bamboo sword and charged at me with it. I sidestepped his downstrike and leapt back on his upstrike. It wasn’t too hard, he’d slowed down a lot. His left eye being now entirely shut, I moved to his right. He slashed near blindly with the thing. I bent all the way back until my left hand touched the floor behind me. As soon as the sword swished over me, I pushed back up, grabbed the sword with my right hand and slammed my left elbow down with all my weight onto his forearm.

His arm broke at the elbow. He screamed. I winced, I hadn’t intended to do that. (No, really, I’m not being snarky here. I didn’t mean to bust his arm.). He fell to the floor and writhed in agony, his arm flopping at a weird angle. He started yelling in Korean. I have no idea what he said but I’m sure he called me every name in the book.

I looked down at him, snapped arm, busted nose, cracked ribs, black eye, broken jaw. And he’d been so handsome, what a waste. Gets on soap box - this is what happens when you let hate, anger, and jealousy take you over - gets off soap box.

He started to try and push himself back up with his one good arm. “I will get you, I will get you.” I rolled my eyes, he was like the stupid Black Knight in that Monty Python movie dad likes so much. I kicked his arm out from under him. He plopped back to the mat.

I placed my foot on his forehead and pushed it flat. I wiggled my toes over his eyes. As he looked up at me, I flexed my right arm so if his broken body hadn’t already told him, he could see just how much more powerful I was than him. “Look,” I said sweetly, “if you keep coming at me, I’m going to have to break your legs next. Now, do you really want me to do that?”

Tears started flowing down his face. He shook his head. “No, I stop, please, don’t hurt me anymore.” I nodded, then I looked down at his groin. In spite of his pain, his penis was pushing up against his pants. I’m used to men getting hardons around me but for someone to get one in his state was a pretty nice tribute to my hotness.

I stepped to his side and placed my foot just above it. “Good thing I didn’t sleep with you, this little thing wouldn’t have given me any satisfaction,” I said. It was less than half the size and width of dear old dad’s.

“No, no, please, don’t,” he begged. I was surprised but then realized he thought I was going to stomp on it.

“Chill out, I won’t kick a helpless man in the dick.” No, I was trying to decide something else. I have a policy against giving jerks the awesome thrill of a Katie Miller Induced Orgasm (™), but on the other hand, the humiliation of being made to cum by the touch of a single one of my pretty toes would stick with him long after his body healed. (I know all of you reading this would happily take the humiliation in exchange for me giving you a toe job, but this guy actually had some pride).

I decided he’d had enough and pulled my foot away. As I did though, he moaned even louder and his pants grew wet as he fired his first shot. His second actually penetrated thru the fabric to rise several inches into the air. By the time he finished, there was a decent puddle of cum covering the front of his pants.

“Geeze, Katie, not again.” I turned to see the Dojo Master walk in. I bowed as he came over. “Oh, my this is far, far worse than anything before.”

I explained what had happened. “I’m sorry, Sensei. I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I’ll quit and take full responsibility.”

The old man stared at me with annoyance. “Did he hit you in the head, Katie? You’re more popular than all my other instructors combined. No, you will go home. I will make sure this man gets medical attention and that nothing attaches to you. I will then have words with both the Federation and his home dojo. It is unacceptable that a man such as this would be allowed to come here.”

I bowed again. “Thank you, Sensei, I appreciate it.” I gathered my stuff and headed for the door.

Before I left, Sensei asked, “Before you arranged this match, did you talk with this man first?”

I shook my head. “No, Sensei.”

“Perhaps there is lesson for you in that,” he replied. I left, now feeling guilty as well as horny. I wondered if I could track down that football player who’d been eyeing my butt at the gym earlier.

Next time - It’s the Crossfit Games, plus I have to deal with some mean girls.
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