Chapter 1: In the Beginning

I should tell you about myself. My name is Siobhan Richards. I grew up hating the name, because no one could pronounce it correctly (shuh-VAHN), even when I sounded it out. Jo is the usual nickname, so I went by that. It was a good nickname because it is a bit androgynous—I hung with the guys and flirted with the girls, not that flirting ever worked.

I am 181 cm tall (5’ 11”). My famous and powerful brother, Sean, is only 178 cm (1½” shorter). In addition to my unreasonable height, I have a face not even my mother loved. “Fleshy” and “strong boned” are not words of endearment when describing a young girl’s features. A scar or other disfigurement might have helped. Those are subject to surgery.

Gran was a famous socialite in her day. She took mother to any number of mother/daughter events. Mother would have liked to repeat the process as the parent. I would tell you a story, but by the time I was three she had given up. I was a homely baby and an unattractive child. Since no amount of money or attention changed that basic fact, Mother’s attention was usually just long enough hide me from guests

As you might imagine, school was not fun. School status, in the lower grades, was based on parentage followed by appearance. With Mother being low profile, I could safely be ignored on both counts. Being naturally sociable which might have compensated. I was the the opposite. When I did not like the other children my age, I said so. Not surprisingly, I made no friends my own age. Instead, I had Sean to adore. He was years older but never talked down at me.

That relationship was enough for a few years, but things change. The first jolt was when Sean graduated from middle school. The primary and middle schools shared a campus, while the High school was miles away. Without Sean’s constant influence, I started to gain a reputation as a smart mouth. This might have escalated into being a problem student had I not discovered the library. It gave me a means of coping—mostly. The world will never know how much disciplinary action I avoided by being buried in a book.

The next jolt was biological. When I started 5^th grade, Theresa Waltermuth was tallest in the class at 158 cm (5’ 2” (she still is)). By Christmas, I was 160 cm and growing fast. More to the point so was my chest. I was the first in our grade to need a training bra. By spring, I was using the real thing. Over the summer I kept growing.

6^th grade is middle school. Though still eleven years old, I was tallest by more than 4 cm (2½ inches). Any doubt that my B cup bra was necessary ended on the first day. My second period was Phys Ed. The news was that my breasts were real was over the school before lunch. Because of them, I could no longer be ignored.

Being competition was a change. Girls I knew stopped ignoring me. Girls I had never met were hostile. Things started verbally. For some reason, the popular girls thought I was not allowed to answer back. Melissa Andrews is a case in point. She called me an overgrown cow, while a couple of her friends mooed in the background. I asked if she was studying fencing. That was outlandish enough that everyone wanted to know what I meant. My patient explanation was that her nose was enough to count as a second weapon. This led to a couple of quick reminder that I was the bigger and stronger. After that, things became complicated.

Dismissive name-calling had escalated to personal attacks. With verbal attacks there was a level field, but I was smarter and I learned to use it. Competitive insults is practiced at every level of society. Groups would huddle for weeks, trying to come up with the best put down. I had to better them off the cuff. The observation skills I developed served me well the rest of my life.

Enter Trina. She was no wit, so she tried the physical. One-on-one was a joke. She got in my face, which earned her a seat on the floor. After that attempt failed, she got serious. Two days later, she brought an older male cousin along. Sean took care of him while I took care of Trina.

It was no accident that Sean was nearby. Though he was still in high school, he served as de facto parent in Mother’s absence. He would pick me up from school every day. When necessary, he would talk to teachers, even Vice Principals. Sometimes it helped. In this case, he was nearby when Trina and her cousin jumped me. After he ran off Trina and her cousin, Sean stayed close. We both understood that things were unfinished.

Two days later, Trina attacked again, this time accompanied by three boys. Sean took on all three and left me alone with Trina. Since she had not been very careful, I had a few moments to plan my response. In retrospect, I proved a good tactician. I began by assessing the ground. It was after classes, but we were on school property.

Next it was allocation of forces. Sean would buy me time, so it would be me against Trina. The four boys would be serve as witnesses, so things could not get very messy, but I saw a way to make that work for me. In preparation, I took off one shoe and sock. Thinking she had backup, Trina came right up to me. I never bothered to talk. My left hand grabbed Trina’s ponytail while my right hand stuffed the sock in her mouth. She fought, but that was good for me.

It was school grounds, but we were away from most of the activity and near the corner of the building. I jerked Trina around the corner, which put us by the AC units. There was a crate handy, which was perfect for what I had in mind. I had Trina bent over the crate, with her skirt up on her back and her panties partway down, before she started to scream into the gag. One of my hands held her there while the other spanked Trina’s bare ass until my fingers were numb. By then, I was out of time.

I grabbed my sock from Trina’s mouth and left her bent over the box. Teachers had already arrived and were separating Sean from the three boys. By the time I was noticed, I had the sock back on and was putting on the shoe. Trina came around the corner looking shocked. The teachers marched us all to the Principal’s office.

This was part of Trina’s master plan. Her cousins were supposed to be her witnesses. When Trina told her story, she expected the wrath of the school to fall on me. Even before I said anything, the Principal was skeptical. The numbers were uneven, so it Trina’s team was marked the aggressor.

Worse, the physical evidence was against Trina’s story. She did not have a mark while my shirt was torn and my face had scratches and bruises. I will never forget the look on Trina’s face when she admitted putting them there. I never had to say a word. Sean asked a few questions, but he could also see the way the wind blew.