Helping the Team

It was our senior year in college. A brisk Dakota Saturday evening. I sat in the standing watching my husband’s team win another game. I don’t remember the score, but it was a low scoring affair, maybe 14-7? My husband played linebacker.

The sun was just setting, and the game was over. It was a very pretty, colorful sunset. Pink and dark blue clouds. A picturesque, peaceful night. I was making my way down to the field when I heard a voice that literally stopped me in my tracks. I sent a shiver down my spine and literally turned a pleasant Saturday into a bad one.

It was a man named Rick, from my old high school. He, and his sometimes girlfriend Michelle, made my life miserable in so many different ways. Rick was a womanizer and rapist, who got away with things because he was the star quarterback at our school and because he had an influential family.

He had assaulted me when I was in school, and the only thing that saved me was a couple of girlfriends came in on us before he could finish what he started. He literally raped my friend Beth. Completely got away with it, and even gaslighted her, making her believe she asked for it.

I started trembling when I heard his booming bass voice. He had this intimidating voice that just sounded so gruff. I was literally afraid he’d see me and wanted to run away. I was afraid to look at him and forgot where I was for a moment.

I then saw my husband’s number and immediately ran down to him and held onto him. He asked me if I was “Ok?”

To which I replied “Yes,” and then I changed the subject and asked him about the game.

Rick, I would soon find out, was playing for a rival school. My husband’s next game. He and a few of his teammates had come to scout our school. They engaged in some jawing with a few members of our team from our little bible school. They were from the power school in our league, and we were normally the perennial doormats.

This year had flipped the script, we were 6-2, unbeaten in league play heading into the showdown with Rick’s school. I’m not sure how it started or who started it, but Rick was warning our team to just wait until next week.

I held onto my husband until Rick left, he could tell something was bothering me. It was only after Rick was gone and my husband went into the locker room that I realized, for the second time in my adult life, I had peed my pants!

Luckily no one noticed, but I was so embarrassed. I was the school and local woman’s self-defense instructor. I’d literally once fought off four men! But as soon as I heard Rick’s voice, I absolutely fell to pieces, became like a frightened little schoolgirl. I was quite depressed that night.

I pondered the whole situation. I didn’t even tell my husband what was going on. I brought up the courage to ask about Rick, and I found out he was the star quarterback of the league. My husband said he might even have a chance to make it in the NFL.

I found it infuriating that a man like him would have a chance to be a star, where he could doubtlessly prey on other women! This is where my fear started to change to action.

Ryan, my husband, said he didn’t think they were going to beat this rival school. Rick was very good, and Rick’s team was beating other schools like 45-10. We had a good defense, but while they would give it their best shot, he doubted they’d stop Rick’s offense.

I came to find out that Rick was the bane of my husband’s athletic carrier too. His public school had always lost in the first round of the playoffs, junior and senior year, to my school that Rick quarterbacked for. My man had never beaten Rick! This was his last shot.

I started to formulate a plan, but I wanted to see if Rick was still the man I remembered. I taught two classes per week, one as a physical education class at the college, and one at the YWCA. I had a couple of students from or who used to attend Ricks school who attended my Y class, so I thought I’d inquire about Rick, and see if they knew anything.

I was almost sorry I did. Sure enough, at the mention of his name, tall and thin Sally became pale and frightful. She was an ex-student and had left after an incident at the school. Often, it’s a sexual assault that brings girls into my class. They train in the same scenario they were assaulted or raped in. It gives them a form of healing to triumph in the in-class setting. I had a special appreciation for Sally watching her pound Mac, our fictional rapist, his real name was Paul, a very nice man, into submission. That was Rick, she was theoretical destroying, gauging his eyes out and tearing off his balls.

Yes, this was the final move we trained. In a rape scenario, the theoretical padded attacker had a pair of hackey sack balls in a sack attached with Velcro to the suit. In their training, I always encouraged the girls to reach down and pull off the sack as soon as possible. This would end the assault. The Velcro was heavy duty and would not come off easily. I’d never remove any balls, but figured they wouldn’t come off easily so I wanted to try to replicate as much as I could the effort that would be needed to remove them. My goal was to make it harder to remove the fake set than it would be to remove a real man’s balls.

Sally seemed exceptionally fierce that night. Pounding Mac was cathartic to her, and even me, as I fancied myself much more capable than Sally, whom I doubted could lift half the weight I could.

In the years since I was assaulted in my then boyfriend’s apartment, I had transformed my body. I was athletic, but I was a thin young girl. I had since added 20 pounds of muscle. I had arms that I must say looked a little man-like. Not huge, but strong looking. At 5’6”, my bicep measured 12.5 inches. I now had thick dense muscles throughout my body. I could deadlift 275 pounds, a little over twice my 135-pound weight.

I stayed after class was over for a bit, pounding the bag, imagining Sally was destroying Rick, imagining myself destroying Rick. The specifics of the plan were forming in my mind.

I thought about it all the next day at blockbuster, where I worked as a manager. So consumed was I that I inadvertently walked into a pile of videos, knocking them all over, to the chuckles of our customers and some of my employees.

Later that evening I lifted. Rick was so on my mind. My anger built as I thought about him. I lifted so much that day; a new bench press max of 175. I know for a man that’s not much, but pretty good for a lady! I did set after set. Normally I’m done after three. Today I did six and still had energy for more.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I suddenly felt very disheartened. My long red hair dropped down to my nipples. My green eyes were beautiful, and my breasts jutted out majestically. I had a trim waist and rippling girly muscles, but therein lied the problem. I was just a girl! A beautiful, sexy, strong one, but still just a girl. What chance did I have going up against a trained strong man. A football player no doubt. He could crush me like a bug! Who was I kidding! My ribs would collapse under his powerful heavy fists. My body would yield to his.

I went home depressed, but I encouraged myself. By the next day, I was back on track.

Friday was the day. The night before the game. I left blockbuster early, at about 9. Ryan was with his friends, with no idea where I was going. I dressed amazing, as sexy as I’ve ever looked in my life. I looked like a Halloween slut with a short skirt and fishnet stockings, showing my amazingly muscular legs. I have developed an absolutely killer body in more ways than one.

My face left a little to be desired. A broken jaw and nose from the sexual assault I fought my way out of had robbed me of some of my natural beauty. My face looked rough, hardened. My eyes were pretty, and I still had my cheek bones, but the rest was more … blah!

This left me with one advantage. My now more muscular physique and slightly changed face made me mostly unrecognizable to old acquaintances. This meant Rick would be not likely to recognize me.

I got to campus and had to ask around a bit before I found the party Rick was attending that night. I sat outside in the car waiting, pondering. I was not past the point of no return. I was scared, almost trembling. I felt so stressed.

Suddenly the walls of the car seemed like they were closing in on me. I felt the urge to run out of the car, but I controlled it. My breathing briefly became heavy and labored. I was having an anxiety attack! I stayed cool and still, and it passed quickly. Feeling better no, I resolved to get this over with.

I got out and walked a block to the house, went in and quickly found him. I had parked far away so I could potentially leave without my car being seen. I was a wild scene, beer bottles and liquor glasses everywhere. The smell of marijuana permeated the rooms. Loud heavy metal music pounded. The Sandman from Metallica was a song I recognized.

Once I found him, I didn’t really have to do anything to attract his attention. He was talking to me almost immediately. As the star quarterback, he had unchallenged first dibs on any new attractive girls.

Now I had worn a blonde wig to further hide my identity. So he guided me out back, upstairs into an apartment over the garage, then alone, into one of the bedrooms. My heart was pounding furious as I felt scared to death. Rick looked like a very strong man, and I was rife for the taking. I once again calmed myself. He locked the door with a key which literally caused me to gulp but left the key in the door.

In the bedroom there was almost no talk. Rick presupposed he would have sex. He quickly undressed and his hands fondled my breast’s, and I could tell he was rock hard. He grasped my shoulders and began to move me into position, before he got me into too vulnerable a position, I put him to the test.

“No!” I said suddenly, pushing him away. “I don’t want to do this.” Now if he just stopped there, that would have been the end of it, if he did not try to force himself on me. Fortunately he did not know who he was dealing with.

“What do you mean no, bitch,” Rick snarled back to me. He slapped me across my face. Well that was all I needed. It was on!

I reach for his balls, but the bastard blocked me! I suddenly became concerned because he knew my move. Perhaps he’d had experience with a trained woman before.

He slapped me much harder this time, sprawling me out across the bed. I was in trouble.

Well, this was my own fault, I looked for trouble, and now it had come. Fast as lightning he was on top of me. I was now dealing with a dangerous, muscular football player, a man much stronger than me. Sure there were some guys I could out muscle, but not Rick. Now I really was just trying to escape.

I put my feet up, trying to keep my legs between myself and Rick. I finally succeeded in getting my feet and legs up between us, and I let out a couple of mule kicks which found a home on his face. That felt good and did some damage! I had bloodied his nose and mouth slightly and sent him sprawling back on the floor. I don’t think he knew that move.

Stupidly I just tried to run out, but as I unlocked then opened the door to flee, he got up and pulled me back, throwing m into a wall and onto the floor. The next thing I knew, he was on top of me, two hands around my throat, trying to choke me. I was able to arch my back, get a foot underneath me, and throw him off.

Doing what I should have done moments earlier, I quickly shifted over him putting my left leg over his torso, and began to axe kick at his head, striking a couple of glancing to decent blows. His left arm reached out to me through my legs, what turned out to be throwing arm, pounding on my midsection, striking my solar plexus.

However, I seized his arm with both hands and locked my legs around it. I now controlled his limb and had a fulcrum point right between my legs, the part of me he was so separate to get to. I squeezed my legs, arched my back up, and pulled down with all my girly might. I was rewarded with a melodious crack and scream as his elbow bent in an unnatural manner. I had tamed the beast and I think I orgasmed right there, but I was not finished.

My left hand quickly found his bare testicles. A hand experienced in destruction quickly maneuvered the fragile glands into position, then squeezing again with all my womanly strength, the delicate orbs quickly yielded to my power, their walls collapsing and flattening, to more of Ricks howls and wails. Simultaneously as I flattened his nuts, I brought my right heel up and down on his head multiple times.

Rather from the shock of his testicular flattening or scrambling I gave his brain, Rick finally slumped into what for him must have been merciful unconsciousness. I realized has flattened testicles and did a somersault backwards away from his body, standing up in a ready stance that I had demonstrated so many times against ours various Mac’s and other fiction attackers.

I quickly surveyed the room, and to my great surprise I saw the other bane of my high school existence, Michelle. She stood between me and the door.

It had been awhile since I had seen her. She was a tall and very skinny blond-haired girl. She reminded me somewhat of Sally. Perhaps that was why Rick was attracted to her. She wore only a t-shirt and shorts. Her arms and legs were rather thin. Looking at her physique, I found it funny that such a girl could terrorize other girls like me in high school.

“What the hell happened here?” she demanded. She did not seem to recognize me.

“This man tried to rape me!” I replied. Normally I would be saying call 911, but I wanted to just get out if I could and let the police deal with the clean-up. I wasn’t sure my story would hold up under scrutiny.

“What the hell did you do to him?” she demanded again. She moved over to him, kneeling down to check on him. While she did this, I moved to the door and found it locked, with the key now removed. I shook the door a couple of times, but it was very thick and sturdy.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she threatened.

“Give me the key!” I ordered sternly.

“Your staying here until I get help!” she ordered back.

“Give me the key!” I ordered again, more sternly. “I won’t ask again.”

She suddenly ran towards the window. I intercepted her and grabbed her arms. Controlling her was ridiculously easy. A child could have put up more resistance. I forced both arms up and behind her back. Holding both wrists with only one hand, I probed her pockets, left and right, and took out a key.

“Now listen,” I told her. Still holding her arms. “Is that your man?” I asked. I saw her nod her head.

“That man has raped at least two girls I know of. Do you know a girl named Sally Dean?” I asked.

“Yeah!” she replied.

“Ask her about it,” I said. “And if you don’t believe her, you can ask a girl named Beth McCraig. She will also confirm it.”

“And if you don’t believe those two, I can’t help you,” I added.

“I’m going to let you go now,” I said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“You came here to do this?” She asked. I said nothing, hesitated for a minute, then released her.

Rather than face me, she stooped down to examine Rick’s left arm, whose elbow had swelled up like a balloon. She moved it and his elbow swing backwardly unnaturally, causing her to gasp.

“He was going to have an NFL career,” she stated.

“Is that why you stay with him?” I asked. She did not answer. I turned to leave, putting the key in the door. To my surprise, it did not work. I assumed I had the wrong key.

“Is this your place?” I asked. She nodded.

“Open this door or I swear I will break it down!” I threatened.

She strode over, pulling another key from her pocket, and unlocked the door.

“Smart move,” I said, “you saved yourself a door.”

“I didn’t want you to hurt my arms again,” she replied.

I quickly went down the stairs to make my escape. I barely had time to think, when I saw against the house, a man, obviously assaulting a young girl. By the looks of her, I thought she was in high school. The man held his forearm over her over her throat, I couldn’t see what he did with his other arm. Her eyes indicated great fear. She seemed to be unable to cry out due to the pressure he put on her throat. She saw me, but the man did not as his back was too me. He was a shorted man, maybe an inch or two taller than me. Not like Rick who was at least 6 foot.

“Help,” she weakly cried to me.

“What the hell was this place?” I wondered to myself. “Are all the men rapist’s around here?”

I was in no mood not to get involved. I said nothing but reached my left hand around his torso to keep him more or less still. My right hand reached around his mid-section, and quickly located his bare balls. He had pulled his pant down in front, and had apparently pulled the young woman’s pants down, who I later found out was a college freshman.

For the second time that night, one of my dainty little hands compressed a bad man’s testicles, this time perhaps with less fervor than I had when I destroyed Ricks little balls. He began to scream, and not wanting to alarm or alert anyone else, I quickly brought my hand up and put it over his mouth to muffle his screams. After holding his balls flat for several seconds, I released him, and he dropped to his knees moaning.

I stepped back slightly and ended his now very bad night with a knee, a very well placed one I’m happy to say that sent him sprawling into sweet unconsciousness.

“Thank you!” the other girl said, grabbing a hold of me, with tears now starting to stream down her cheeks and onto my shoulders. I hugged her for several seconds hard, trying to comfort this poor child.

I knew though I needed to go. I pushed her back finally.

“I’m sorry honey,” I said, “I need to go.”

“Listen,” I continued, “This guy won’t be harming you anymore tonight, but he needs a doctor now. Can you do me a favor please and walk down the street and call the police and an ambulance?”

“Yes, of course I will,” she replied.

“Please do and don’t tell anyone what I looked like, ok?” I’m asked.

“Yeah sure,” she replied. “Who are you though?” She asked.

“Better you don’t know,” I replied, quickly walking away. Getting done the driveway and to the sidewalk, I quickly ran back to my trusty little Honda Civic and burned rubber back to my school. I felt high as a kite, dispatching probably the worst man I’d ever met. Really busting him up went as well as I hoped it might.

The next days Ryan’s team triumphed 14-12 over Rick’s old team. They missed the thing where you kick the ball through the goals a couple of times. Apparently that second guy I had taken out the guy who did their kicking.

I felt so mean joining in the celebration, knowing what I had done to the other team. It wasn’t really my goal to help Ryan’s team, just a little side benefit. I didn’t tell him until much later how I’d helped.

It must have been a week later I read a magazine article about the population problem Western countries were facing. I took a look at my hand and made a fist. I thought to myself I really needed to have a lot of kids to make up for all the guys I had sterilized to date.

About two months later Elisha, the 18-year-old I’d saved, wandered into my winter self-defense class, along with Michelle, referred by Sally. We did eventually talk about what happened. Rick never played football again so I heard.