Hi, My Name's Amy

by Millie 90 lbs of Dynamite

Copyright© 2015 by Millie 90 lbs of Dynamite

Sex Story: You have entered Millie's Vast Expanse, a wondrous empire of the twisted and bizarre. Where things can be turned upside or sideways. Can you feel that little tickle in your soul, that deep-seated fear of embracement? There she is the little girl that makes your life a living hell. She walking up to you, oh God no, she has the mischievous smile on her face. There's a sadistic twinkle in her eyes as she drags you into Millie's Vast Expanse and it will be 7th and 8th grade all over again.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Teenagers   FemaleDom   .

You have entered Millie's Vast Expanse, a wondrous empire of the twisted and bizarre. Where things can be turned upside or sideways in a single beat of your heart. Can you feel that little tickle in your soul, that deep-seated fear of embracement? There she is the little girl that makes your life a living hell. She walking up to you, oh God no, she has the mischievous smile on her face. There's a sadistic twinkle in her eyes as she drags you into Millie's Vast Expanse and it will be 7th and 8th grade all over again.

For Brian

"You and I have unfinished business!" The Bride 'Kill Bill Part One.'

"Hi, my name's Amy," she smiled at him walking up her hand extended.

"Brian," he took her hand lightly in his and shook letting go. The girl locked her fingers down, refusing to let go she squeezed. She was slightly taller than him, sort of muscled up, especially for a girl. Tighter she squeezed, her smile twisting into something of a smirk. She took in his skinny body, his pasty complexion, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Harder she pushed her fingers tighter around his hand, she felt bones ripple as they moved closer together. She loved hurting him – it thrilled her that his pain was evident.

"Kind of a wimp ain't you Brain," she squeezed while his eyes glassed over he fought the urge to cry.

"Amy," the loud shout from the teacher. "Stop that."

"Just shaking hands with my new pal, Brian," Amy let go of his hand turned standing beside him. She put her arm around him clutching his arm. He winced in pain.

"Amy," the instructor again snapped.

"Yes, Miss Cluck," she said and took her seat. Brain chair was next to hers and he sat down, nervous shooting glances over at Amy. This girl was scary, just something about her frightened him. He looked at her, turned up button nose, dark tanned complexion, and deep brown hair and wondered if she might be, Mexican. But that was silly she was just tanned.

Miss Cluck turned her back and wrote 'Brain' on the blackboard. Balling up her hand the girl pulled her fist up toward her bicep and looked at him with what can only be called hate. She pumped up her bicep and spoke to him in a soft whisper, "Faggot boy."

"I want everyone to make our new student feel welcome. All together Hello Brian."

"Hello Brian," everyone parroted the instructor's words. It began with a painful handshake and it went downhill from that point. The girl made a point to show up Brian in some way every day. His stomach would churn when he ate lunch, worried what she had in store for him. He dreaded lunch break and the time after he ate, that terrible time in school yard – she picked on him every day. After a month, he had enough.

She walked up to him holding a dodge ball she threw it and hit him in his privates. He rolled around on the ground as she laughed. The girls and boys gathered around laughing and teasing him. They told him he was slow, he ran like a girl and that he was terrible at sports. Once the pain at last settled he jumped up and charged her. Tackling her, he pinned her down, for a moment. Amy pushed her back up off the ground and kicked up with her feet. Brian tumbled to the asphalt of the playground. In a flash, she was on top of him.

Mr. Harlan ran over breaking up the fight. Chastising the boy for allowing himself to fight with a girl. He also berated Amy for fighting with a boy then decided he would teach her a lesson. He wanted to level the playing field.

"Okay PE is next so you two are putting on the gloves. Brian, you can hit her just this one time. Amy you will have to follow the rules, you can't spit, pull his hair, kick him or hit him in his private area. You're going to learn you are not built to fight boys." He dismissed them and told them to meet in the gym for class today. He hated having them inside as the air was cooler and soon it would be winter. Still it is important to nip this type of thing in the bud. Can't have boys beating on girls and can't have girls thinking they can compete in with a boy on toughness. He was an old-fashioned type of fellow.

Once they had their gloves on the coach stood them in the middle of the room. They wore headgear and had in their mouthpieces. A mat was laid down and represented the limit of the ring. He went through the rules of a boxing match and told them they would do three two-minute rounds. He stood there with his fist up near his chest his body quivered and she stood there in a classic boxing stance. She moved her head from side to side he could hear the bones in her neck popping, that scared him. She looked so mad she was really frightening when she was mad. The coach yelled, "Go."

Brian threw the first punch, a swing and miss at her head. She bobbed it to one side his hand passed by in week effort. Holding her hands to her side she looked at him and said, "What was that?" He moved quick and swung again, again she bobbed her head and he missed. He followed with another punch landing a mild blow on her shoulder. She couldn't believe how anemic his blow was.

Amy danced into Brian throwing a punch with her left, followed by her right, to his stomach. Then she hit again in his belly and immediately followed with a hard blow to his chin. The trainer yelled out, "TIME. Go to your corners." He cut the round short by nearly forty seconds and walked over helping Brian off the mat.

"Start fighting boy, this is embarrassing," he growled at him. "You are hitting like you are just point at something put your body into it." The coach watched the clock and gave them two minutes to rest. Amy stood there pounding her gloves together staring at him. Her anger grew, he could see she was madder. Brian prayed he didn't piss his pants. "Don't want on her just charge and pound on her. She's making you look bad you're supposed to show her she a girl."

"Go," the coach yelled. Brian ran at her and threw a punch as hard as he could. He hit her chin and Amy staggered back. In retrospect, he shouldn't have done that. What happened next was only a blur, to him, to the boys and girls watching and even to the instructor. She charged him letting go punches in stomach against the padded head protector, his arms, chest, and chin. How many you couldn't count fast enough to know.

At one point, he tried to turn and run but she grabbed his arm and yanked him back toward her. Amy pummelled his face. When woke up he saw the teacher looking down at him. Shaking his head he turned and marched away, "dismissed, get back to your homerooms."

"So gay, you're going to be taken it up the butt your whole life," Amy told him. This was followed by a chorus of jeers, faggot boy, so gay, and even other less flattering comments. When he got home, his mother looked at his blackened eye and started asking what happened. He lied and said they had to box and he beat a bigger boy. She cooed and cuddled him, telling him how he was her big strong boy. This actually made him feel even worse.

The eight-grade drug on with humiliation heaped on top of insult. The girl terrorized him and yet at night, alone at home in his bed he thought about that mean little girl. He thought of her making him do things to her and with her. He would put his pillow on top of him and play with his pecker. He knew it wasn't big, he knew it was smaller than the other boys. In Brian's fantasies, she wanted his dick and not the other boys. Why he put the pillow on top of him and not under him, that was how she would make him do it.

He knew with her he would be on the bottom and she would be on top. He knew she was the boss. Rubbing his cock with that pillow he thought of her muscled up body ridding him and telling him how pathetic he was. The sad truth was every time she said something mean to him his dick twitched. Thinking of her and how mean she was made him so horny. In no time he sprayed his essence on his belly and the pillow.

His mother yelled at him about his abuse of her pillows. He didn't care it was all he could do. He had to find a way to impress her. The odd thing was she wasn't the best at sports, she was probably second or third best to one guy or another. He was better than some of the guys, but she was better than him no matter what.

That summer they played on opposing teams in baseball. She humiliated every time they played against each other. She tagged him out, knocking him off his feet as he came into second twice. In one game, she slid into him at home jabbing his ribs with her spikes making him drop the ball. In another competition, she ran over him knocking the ball free as she easily overpowered him at home plate. He was glad for the cup that day, not for its protection, but it hid his hard-on.

Ninth-grade rolled around and he hoped this year would be different, but it ended up just more of the same. By October, his mom informed him that his dad was being transferred to another airbase and they would be moving again as soon as Christmas break. He felt relief and disappointment. He hated how he was tormented by her – even so – he loved it. How could both be true? He didn't know.

The fifteenth day of October the girl didn't pester him at all. He didn't notice her most of the day. He did see her at lunch when everyone sang happy birthday to her. He didn't join in, he sulked because she was so popular and he felt he was the reason. He felt the more she belittled him, the bigger her classmates made her. She wore bright blue stretchy pants and pale blue top. Her little titties poked out and her stiff nipples were plainly visible. She hasn't got on a bra, Brian thought. He was mad anyone could see her, why would she be so mean to him letting other boys see her. Brian glared at her as everyone told her what a great girl she was. She looked back at him her eyes caught the sun and looked red for a second then flickered back to brown. He felt a chill.

Walking home, he decided to cut through the park. When he passed between the little kiddies train depot with concession its concession stand and the grimy public restrooms he heard a voice from the side of him.

"You didn't sing happy birthday to me at lunch," he turned his head and there she was, arms folded her foot tapping and that look. Oh, shit she had that look on her face. She moved to the center of the path, "I said you didn't sing to me, why not, Fag?" she barked at him demanding an answer.

"You're mean and I don't like you," his voice creaked and cracked just when he wanted to sound tough.

"Liar," she said glaring at him with an intense look on her face.

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