Chores - The Unauthorized Sequel

By C. Quill

Two Teenage Boys Discover Just How Superior Girls Really Are

I'm a recycler of characters and themes. After the original author tires of his characters and discards them as stale, I find a fresh plot twist and give them at least one more brief episode of literary life. Out of respect for the original author, and sometimes out of a sense of parody, I try, to some extent, to mimic the original author's style and general themes. However, I also try to adhere scrupulously to the site FAQ for stories, and avoid having minor characters engage in overt sex. It's a little tongue-in-cheek, and done in a spirit of fun, and I hope that my efforts will elicit some appreciation, as well as a chuckle or two, from the original author and his loyal readers. Please address any comments to c_quill@hotmail.com, or post them on Diana's "Authors and Contributors" message board.

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Synopsis of the original story:

My first "victim" is Hardie, who recently posted a two-part story entitled "Chores for the Boys," about two teenage English brothers, 16-year-old Greg and 15-year-old Paul, who spend two weeks of holiday visiting with their younger cousins, 13-year-old Susan and 11-year-old Sandra. After a dispute arises as to who will do the household chores, the girls propose to settle the matter by challenging the boys to a fight. The girls open the battle with a surprise "busting" attack, and in the ensuing battle, the weakened boys prove no match for their smaller, younger and more agile and aggressive female cousins. Susan totally and utterly defeats Greg, and Sandra easily dispatches Paul, in a one-sided battle that leaves no doubt about the girls' supremacy. Broken in body and spirit, the boys are reduced to being the girls' slaves. Several days later, however, Paul begins to think that the girls won the fight only because of their "sneak" busting attack, and that they could not have won in a fair fight. Betting on this theory, the 16-year-old Paul stages his own surprise attack on 11-year-old Sandra, and finds out, to his chagrin, that girls don't need to fight dirty to win. Using a combination of superior agility, stamina, speed and brains, she outfights and outsmarts the much older and larger boy, and he is completely humbled and defeated by his little preteen cousin (who "busts" him anyway after she proves her superiority in the fight). After both matches, the girls force the boys to pay "tribute" to their girl conquerors in a unique manner, which the gentle reader should not expect to be repeated here. And now, this unauthorized sequel picks up.

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It was four days since the boys sustained their second defeat at the hands of their young girl cousins. There was no more thought of turning the tables. The boys were convinced beyond doubt of the girls' superiority, and meekly did everything they were ordered to do by Susan and Sandra. If any shred of male ego remained in the boys, it was the rationalization that somehow their young cousins must be uniquely superior examples of girlhood, and that they were unlikely to experience such a defeat at the hands of any other girl. But Susan and Sandra soon deprived them of even this last poor vestige of male pride.

It was a fine summer's morning, and Greg was trimming the grass with a manicure scissors, while Paul was touching up a windowsill with a fine artist's paintbrush. Sandra, hands on her hips, was supervising the work with painstaking care, being sure that her boy slaves didn't miss a blade of unkempt grass or a speck of bare wood. Suddenly, two bicycles turned up the driveway, and two young girls speedily dismounted from the bikes, which they let fall on the grass. Both of the girls were dressed alike - wearing tight navy-blue shorts, white sweat socks that came up to the bottom of their calves, and light blue crop tops that showed off their flat and toned tummies. Sandra commanded her male cousins to stop their work, and introduced them to the girls.

The first girl was Kim, a well-tanned 10-year-old with short blonde hair and blue eyes. Sandra made a point of noting that she was 4'8" tall and weighed a mere 75 pounds. The girl accompanying her turned out to be her younger sister Kristy, a 9-year-old with short medium-brown hair and green eyes, who stood just 4'6" and weighed only 67 pounds. The boys couldn't help but notice that both of the girls, while trim and lithe, had well-toned legs that showed some muscle in the calves and thighs. Sandra also made a point of mentioning that they were gymnasts.

The reason for all this detail soon became clear. Sandra turned to her male cousins and said "Susan and I think we've been working you boys too hard, so we decided to let you have a little fun. And that fun is, the two of you are going to fight Kim and Kristy, right now!" Hearing this, the boys gasped. Kim barely came up to the middle of Greg's chest, while Kristy stood at about the same level compared to Paul. Considering just their relative sizes, the idea of the 75-pound Kim successfully fighting the 170-pound Greg, or the 67-pound Kristy overcoming 150-pound Paul, seemed too ludicrous for words. And yet Sandra, who weighed a mere 91 pounds, had easily dispatched both boys. In the boys' minds, mixed with the hope of finally being able to win a fight with a girl was an element of fear - the fear, based on their recent defeats at the hands of their two girl cousins, that even these tiny girls might prove too much for them to handle. But it didn't really matter what they hoped or feared, because the boys had no choice but to fight Kim and Kristy. That is what Sandra ordered them to do, and that is what they had to do.

The boys were wearing beach shorts, and were shirtless in the warm summer air. Kim and Kristy took off their trainers, and ordered the boys to remove their own shoes as well. Both pairs of contestants now stood facing each other in their shorts and white sweat socks, with the girls also wearing their little crop tops. For a change of pace, Sandra and Susan brought out four pairs of boxing gloves, which the boys and girls quickly donned. Sandra announced that the rules were that the combatants could use their feet as well as their arms - sort of like kickboxing - but that an opponent could not be struck when down. Sandra also stipulated that a standing opponent could be hit or kicked in any part of the body, without restriction, and that the fight would be continuous, without rounds, until an opponent was either knocked out or submitted. Sandra then motioned the contestants to walk over to the grassy area by the side of the garage, about 20 feet by 20, and said that the fight had to take place entirely within that area. After giving those instructions, Sandra went in the house to get Susan, so that she could also watch the fun. When Sandra and Susan came out, Susan told the two girls to face the boys about six feet apart, and said "On my mark, begin to fight, now!"

As he stood in front of Kim, Greg began the fight by consciously flexing the pectorals of his magnificently muscled male body to intimidate the little girl. The well-built Paul also did some muscle flexing of his own as he faced off Kristy, hoping to undermine the confidence of his little preteen opponent. The boys should have saved themselves the trouble. Far from being scared off by this display, the girls saw an opportunity in the boys' posturing to show them what little girl gymnasts could do. Using a maneuver that they had obviously practiced before, as if on signal, both young girls bounded forward together and dropkicked each of the boys in the chest. As the girls agilely landed on the ground, both boys went reeling backwards, falling backwards on the grass. In a trice, the girls were back up on their feet, waiting for their stunned male opponents to get up. Sandra started to count to ten.

Although weakened considerably by the surprise dropkicks, the boys managed - though just barely - to avoid being knocked out at the very beginning of the fight. Greg made it to his feet by the count of seven, and Paul by the count of eight. The girls were waiting for them. Bobbing and weaving, Kim started throwing punches at Greg's body, while Kristy quickly delivered a straight-leg kick to Paul's stomach. Enraged, the two much larger boys charged at the girls in front of them, trying to land a knockout blow on the little tormentresses. But the girls, who were much quicker, easily spun out of reach, leaving the teenage boys to throw punches at the air where the girls had been just a split second before. The boys kept trying to corner the girls and cut them off. The girls, with their superior speed and agility, easily evaded them. The closest Greg came to hitting Kim was a roundhouse right which she ducked to avoid, and the punch went sailing in an arc over her head.

As the boys chased them around the grassy arena, the girls would occasionally strike back, darting inside to land a quick punch or two on a boy's stomach, or to deliver a quick, snapping kick to a male torso. When this happened, the boy would temporarily halt his advance and put his guard up, which served as a visible admission that the girls' blows were having some effect. After about five minutes, the boys were growing frustrated with their futile tactics and were beginning to tire and slow down, while the girls seemed as fresh and agile as ever. Ever so slightly, the pace of the fight now began to change. Greg and Paul were no longer advancing so much, while Kim and Kristy began to take the offensive more often, and when they did so, to fight inside for longer periods of time. Getting under Greg's guard, Kim delivered a succession of sharp punches to his body, followed by a kick which landed the instep of her right foot hard on his ribs with an audible thwack. A surprised expression came over Greg's face and, instead of lunging at her, he backed up a step. Meanwhile, Kristy connected with a high kick to Paul's midsection, followed by a charging attack that saw her deliver a flurry of short, hard punches to the same target, eliciting an "uumph" from Paul. He too was stopped dead in his tracks, and began to back off.

Several more minutes passed, and now the girls were taking the fight home to the boys, attacking more frequently and putting the boys on the defensive. Kristy threw several straight kicks at Paul's right thigh, and they clearly hurt - at one point he staggered. His ponderous attempts to kick back were so slow that his little gymnast opponent had no trouble evading them. Kim also used her feet as a weapon, preferring lightning-fast straight kicks that buried her little foot in Greg's stomach, followed by a blizzard of rapid body punches. Using these tactics, the girls slowly began backing the boys up against the side of the garage - the same strategy that the boys had tried unsuccessfully to use against the girls. Within a few more minutes the boys, now clearly fatigued, and breathing heavily, found themselves with their backs literally to the wall - the garage wall.

At that point, the girls changed their tactics. Instead of hit-and-run tactics, and attacks followed by agile withdrawals, the girls began to duke it out with the boys, all-out. Kim threw punch after punch at Greg's midsection, while Kristy did the same with Paul. Backed up against the garage wall, the tired boys had no alternative but to fight it out - something they had been trying to do from the very beginning. But the results were not what the boys had been expecting. By now the boys had run out of both steam and breath, while the girls seemed to have an inexhaustible stamina. As they absorbed punch after punch from the little girls' fists, the boys began to grow astonished at the power of the girls' punches. Apparently, all of their gymnastics training had given these young kids some amazing upper-body strength for their age and size. Coupled with that power, the girls' short height was proving to be an advantage rather than a disadvantage. Aiming at the boys' midsections, the girls could throw punches straight out from the shoulder, with their whole bodies behind each punch, and meanwhile keep their guards up in front of their faces, while the boys could only retaliate by punching from about waist level, which dramatically reduced the force of their blows. Also, all the boys could aim for were the small targets of the girls' faces - their stomachs were too low to hit - and the girls' gloves picked off almost all of the boys' punches, which weren't all that potent anyway. On the other hand, the boys' stomachs were proving too big a target for them to cover completely, and more and more of the girls' hard punches were getting through.

Although the rules permitted punches and kicks to any part of the body, the girls surprisingly avoided a "busting" attack on the vulnerable boys, whom the girls could have finished off at any time, had they chosen to use those tactics. Once in a while, though, Kim or Kristy would feint as if she were about to let loose a short uppercut or kick to the vitals of her much larger male opponent. This always caused the boy, in an instinctive reaction, to drop his gloves and cover his most vulnerable parts, and when he did so, his girl opponent would take advantage of the opening to land a powerful punch or kick to his stomach. It soon became apparent that the girls wanted to win this fight without taking advantage of the inherent weakness of the male sex, so that the boys would have no excuse for the defeat that was clearly coming.

The boys were rapidly weakening under the girls' punching onslaught, and as they weakened, their once taut and muscular midsections began to grow slack and less able to withstand a punch. But the girls, conditioned by daily hours of rigorous gymnastics training, were able to maintain both the force and rapidity of their punches without letup. In combination after combination, sometimes ten or more punches in a row, their little gloved fists buried themselves in the torsos of the much bigger teenage boys, who began to sag noticeably as they found themselves unable to compete with the punching power of their preteen assailants. Every so often, too, a muscular little leg shot out and a girl's small foot buried itself in a boy's stomach, or her little instep smashed into his ribs. Although the boys tried to retaliate, their kicks were ponderous and slow, and the girls easily avoided or blocked them. Trapped against the garage wall, the boys several times desperately tried to force the girls backward so as to gain some maneuvering room, but were always driven back by the punches and kicks of the two lithe preteen tomboys. By now it was clear to Susan and Sandra, and also to Greg and Paul, that the girls were winning the fight.

Meanwhile, the postman came by to drop the mail by the back door, and as he walked over to Susan to hand her the mail, he gaped wide-eyed at the battle that was going on by the side of the garage. Fumbling in his mail sack, he handed the letters to Susan, one-by-one, taking much more time than he usually did to locate the mail. It didn't help matters much that his glance was riveted on the battle of the sexes, which meant that he was barely looking at the contents of his mail sack. Finally, the postman gave Susan the last piece of mail, and she testily gave him a gentle push back down the walk, telling him to mind his own business. Then Susan nonchalantly looked over the mail until she found the one thing she had been awaiting. It was the site FAQ for Diana The Valkyrie's website. [As to why Susan should have chosen to receive this item by snail mail instead of downloading it, I can only offer the lame explanation that the hand-delivery better fit my story line and that the English are known to be a bit eccentric.]

Apparently used to seeing boys get beaten by much younger girls, Susan perused Diana's site FAQ while nonchalantly glancing up every now and then to watch the fight. Eleven-year-old Sandra, however, was watching the fight with rapt attention, and it was certainly worth watching. After about 20 minutes of unrelenting battle, the young preteen girls had punched the much larger teenage boys into a state of near collapse. Trapped against the garage wall, the boys had absorbed literally hundreds of hard body punches and dozens of kicks, and their once beautifully muscled male bodies were now slack and soft, incapable of offering much resistance to the punches of the preteen girls. Meanwhile, the girls continued to punch away with unrelenting power, looking like they could go on doing it at the same pace for hours. By now, the boys could retaliate only with feeble, pawing punches, and the girls, contemptuous of the boys' rapidly waning strength, would deliberately let down their guard on occasion and allow the boys to connect, just so they could laugh in their faces and jeer at them, calling them weaklings.

The moment of truth had come. The 16-year-old Greg was slumped against the garage wall, his hands drooping at his sides, his stomach now unprotected, while 10-year-old Kim continued to pepper him with body blows. The 15-year-old Paul, also unable to hold his guard up, was likewise helpless in the face of tiny 9-year-old

Kristy, who stood in front of him, taunting the much larger boy whom she had punched into a state of helplessness, and punctuating her taunts with hard rights to Paul's stomach. Based on past experience with Susan and Sandra, both boys knew what to expect next, and they instinctively put their boxing gloves in front of their crotches, hoping to protect themselves from the final blow to their vitals that would finish them off. On their part, gloating at the helplessness of the much larger boys, and having conclusively demonstrated their superiority, Kim and Kristy appeared to have decided that it was finally time to "bust" the boys into oblivion. By now clearly stronger than the boys, the two girls easily pried the boys' hands apart and away from their groins. Pressing the boys' gloved hands against the wall so as to leave room for a clean shot, Kim and Kristy steadied themselves in front of the boys and prepared to deliver the coup-de-grace.

Suddenly, Susan walked up and tapped Kim on the shoulder. In her hand, she held a copy of Diana's website FAQ, and she showed something in it to Kim. Although their conversation was in whispers, Greg heard Susan mention the word "borderline" and the phrase "probably not," and saw Kim nod her head in reluctant agreement. The next thing he knew, Kim put her knee down and so did Kristy, and instead of busting the boys, the girls finished them off cleanly with their fists. Standing in front of the by now helpless Greg, Kim peppered him with a tremendous combination of body punches - six, ten, a dozen - and the 16-year-old Greg slid down the garage wall to end up lying helplessly on his back at the feet of his little 10-year-old conqueror. Facing Paul, tiny Kristy stood on the balls of her little white-sweat-sock-clad feet and threw a left and then a right to the jaw of the boy standing unsteadily in front of her. Paul's knees buckled, and the 15-year-old boy fell to the ground at the feet of the 9-year-old girl, spread-eagled on his face.

The rules said that a victory had to be by knockout or submission, and now the girls' victory would clearly be official. As Sandra began the count, Greg just lay there on his back, unable to make any effort to get up, while Paul lay inertly on his face, not moving a muscle. As the count reached ten, the boys were still flat on the ground, lying helpless and defeated at the hands of girls less than half their weight and six years their junior. Laughing at the boys, each of the tiny preteen tomboys placed a lithe but muscular leg on the opponent she had so convincingly defeated, doing a little muscle pose while grinning from ear-to-ear. And they had a lot to grin about. Muscular-looking teenage boys, who each outweighed his little girl opponent by over 80 pounds, had succumbed in fair combat to the preteen girls' punching power and stamina.

But the girls weren't through yet. They took off their boxing gloves and stripped the boys of theirs as well. Then, each one grabbing her helpless male opponent by the hair, they dragged the boys along in a crouching position and pulled them out to the front lawn. Throwing the defeated boys face down on the lawn, the girls took the once-strong boys' arms and twisted them behind their backs in a painful hammerlock. Just then, a group of girls and boys walked past, coming back from the nearby swimming pool, and they gathered on the lawn to watch the show. And a show is what Kim and Kristy gave them. After working the boys' arms in a painful lock for what seemed liked minutes, the girls flipped the boys onto their sides, put the boys' heads between their strong young thighs, and applied a head scissors. The boys pawed weakly at the girls' legs, but didn't have nearly enough strength to pry them apart. Slowly, the boys weakened further, to the point where they were just lying there helpless and motionless, their heads trapped between the muscular thighs of their little preteen opponents. The girls could easily have rendered the boys totally unconscious, but that would have spoiled their fun. So, after a minute or two more, they released the boys, who lay there defenseless and spread-eagled on their backs.

At that point, each of the girls picked up the comparatively massive legs of her male opponent, putting one of his legs across each of her shoulders. Then, using her shoulders for leverage, she bent the boy's legs up past the vertical position back towards his chest, to the point where his legs came close to touching his head. Bent like a hairpin and in obvious pain, the boys begged the girls to stop, and the girls eventually responded, but only after several hysterical pleas from the boys. After that, straddling the chests of the defeated older males, the young tomboy victresses slapped the boys' faces, and threw in some short, but hard punches to the jaw for emphasis. Meanwhile, the young girls in the watching audience of swimmers, all between 9 and 11 years old, were laughing at the spectacle, and shooting threatening glances at the boys in their group, who seemed shocked at the demonstration of Girl Power that they were witnessing.

The fight ended with Kim mounted on Greg's chest in a schoolgirl pin, while Kristy straddled Paul in a similar position. Flexing their own small but firm biceps, the girls made the helpless teenage boys feel their muscles. They also made them admit that they had been totally defeated in a fair fight by much smaller and younger preteen girls, that they were no match for their Girl Power, and that girls were the completely superior sex. Seeing this, the girls in the watching audience made muscles of their own for the boys in their group, who obediently felt them with a look of complete humiliation on their faces. The fight was over, and it was time for the defeated boys to pay tribute to the totally superior girls.

Sandra stood in front of the humiliated Greg and Paul, and said "OK, wimps, it's time for you to WA--." She couldn't get the last word out, however, because Susan had suddenly placed her hand over Sandra's mouth. Clutching Diana's website FAQ in her left hand, Susan pointed her finger at a passage of text, and Greg heard her whisper "definitely not!" Susan and Sandra then whispered in the ears of Kim and Kristy, and the two preteen girls slowly got up off the chests of the helpless boys, who lay there spread-eagled on their backs, exhausted. In a final gesture of supremacy, Kim and Kristy each put a foot on the chest of the much larger and older boy that she had defeated, and flexed her right biceps in a classic victory pose, while the assembled girls in the audience cheered loudly. Then the preteen victresses commanded the conquered boys to get up and carry them around the yard in their arms.

Exhausted, Greg and Paul got to their feet and struggled to comply. Although Kim and Kristy were comparatively light at 75 and 67 pounds, the weakened boys could barely stagger around the yard cradling the tiny preteen powerhouses who had conquered them so easily. But not daring to drop the girls, the boys did as they were told. As Kim and Kristy were carried over to the girls and boys in the audience, the little tomboy victresses flexed their right biceps so that the admiring girls and by now trembling boys in the audience could feel them. From the assemblage of admiring girls, there were comments of praise for Kim and Kristy, mixed with jeers of "weakling" and "wimp" directed at Greg and Paul. Finally, Kim and Kristy commanded Greg and Paul to carry them into the house, and the teenage boys staggered to the back door, each carrying the little preteen girl who had mastered his powerfully muscled male body and shattered what was left of his male ego.

When they got in the kitchen, the girls said that they were thirsty, and ordered the boys to pour each of them a cold glass of milk. The 9-year-old Kristy sat at the kitchen counter sipping her milk, while 16-year-old Paul could only sit across from her thirstily looking at her - she wouldn't let him have any. After taking a few large sips of the cold milk, Kristy sat there, with a cute little milk-mustache on her face, and put her right arm on the counter. "I haven't beaten you arm wrestling yet!" she taunted the 16-year-old boy, and commanded him to put his arm up on the table. Reluctantly, Greg complied, at the same time wondering whether he might redeem at least a shred of his male honor by being able to beat a young girl at something. His opponent now was the 9-year-old Kristy - not her bigger 10-year-old sister who had beaten him outside in the fight. There had to be some limit to a young girl's power!

They locked hands, and Greg tried to push Kristy's arm over quickly, using all of his remaining strength. But Kristy held off his best effort, and then, picking up the glass of milk in her left hand, she slowly took several sips from it while easily holding Greg at bay with her right arm. Then she put down the glass, and gazed directly into Greg's eyes. "You're going down, BOY!" she said, emphasizing the last word with a tone of utter contempt. With that, she began putting on a slow, relentless pressure, and Greg saw his arm begin to move down towards the table - first a quarter of an inch, then a half, then a whole inch. Kristy's little biceps peaked with the effort. Greg was giving it everything he had, and his arm was quivering with the strain. But he kept losing ground, when suddenly, in a burst of unexpected strength, little Kristy slammed his arm down on the table. A 16-year-old boy, weighing 170 pounds of beautifully sculpted male muscle, had lost a contest of strength to a 9-year-old girl whom he outweighed by more than 100 pounds! Crestfallen and humiliated, Greg kept his gaze fixed on the countertop - he dared not look his tiny conqueror in the eye! She, however, was not above gloating at her triumph, and made Greg admit out loud that she was stronger than he was, and that girls were clearly the stronger sex.

Kim and Kristy walked over to the corner of the kitchen and whispered together. Then they came back. "Okay, BOYS," chortled Kristy, "It's TRIBUTE TIME!" The teenage boys knew what this meant. Mixed in with their utter humiliation was a feeling of worship for the totally superior preteen girls, and subconsciously, Greg and Paul felt a need to recognize the girls' supremacy by an act of self-abasement.

Greg and Paul stared with mixed emotions of awe and humiliation at the preteen girls confronting them. Their gaze wandered up their bodies, drinking in everything. They saw the grass-stained white sweat socks covering the small feet whose kicks had sent them reeling, and now they felt a powerful urge to kneel down and kiss those feet as an acknowledgment of the girls' supremacy. The boys' eyes lingered on the muscular little tanned calves and thighs that had so recently held them powerless on the lawn. They noticed as well the firm young forearms and little fists that had punched them helpless, and the girls' taut little tummies that could probably have withstood a boy's punch with ease. The boys couldn't help but notice also the firm little biceps that the girls had made them feel in their moment of triumph. And finally, Greg and Paul looked into the girls' proud faces, and saw in their eyes and mouths the haughty confidence that they felt in themselves as girls, and the sneering contempt that they felt for the defeated teenage boys. Gazing with undisguised admiration at the preteen girls who had mastered them, Greg and Paul felt no hostility, and were overwhelmed instead by feelings of humiliation and submissiveness.

"Does the tribute you want begin with the letter W," Greg humbly asked Kristy, consciously dreading and subconsciously hoping that she would say yes. "Yes it does BOY!" responded Kristy imperiously as she proudly stood in front of Greg with her hands on her hips. Hearing this, and looking at the tough little tomboy who had uttered the words, Greg felt an involuntary thrill of excitement pass through his body. But it was short-lived. Laughing, Kristy continued "The word WRITE begins with a W, and what you weakling boys have to do for tribute is each write an essay, at least 1,000 words long, telling what you learned about girls' superiority on your summer holiday! And it has to be perfect, with no spelling or grammar mistakes, or you'll have to do it all over again. And our mum is going to check it - she's a teacher - so make sure there are NO mistakes. And, by the way, I want it by tomorrow morning!" And then Kim chimed in, saying, "It had better be good, and besides talking about Susan and Sandra, it had better say a lot about Kristy and me - understand BOY!"

Greg shook his head meekly in acknowledgment, and so did Paul. They hated to write. Worse yet, they hated the thought of having to really admit to themselves, and to express in words, how totally superior girls had proved themselves to be. And the thought of the girls' mother reading their papers made it even more humiliating. Nevertheless, if that was the tribute the victorious little girls had demanded, that was what they would have - even though it wasn't quite the tribute that the boys had gotten used to paying. Greg and Paul walked slowly outside with their heads bowed, and humbly asked Sandra where they could find some pens and paper, and whether they could have some time off from their chores to write their tribute.

[It might be an interesting sequel to this story, for yet another author, to relate what they wrote.]

The End