PRODUCERS & OTHER FORUMS SITES: Please note - you MUST HAVE A RECIPROCAL LINK back to this site is you wish to ADVERTISE your site on this forum. If you do not have a link back to us, we will remove your posts with immiediate effect - 25th April 2010

Karate Cowgirl Gets Her Comeuppance

  • 0 Replies

Offline bikemanrick

  • God Member
  • *****
  • 328
  • Girl Bowler (18) Pounds Cowgirl Drug Dealer (31)
Karate Cowgirl Gets Her Comeuppance
« on: October 08, 2018, 07:35:01 AM »
This is part of a long work of fiction I wrote about a year ago. It's based on something I heard about some cowgirls from Oklahoma who showed up in our area one night and got run off the road by a vicious 18-year-old girl named Andrea. Andrea's about 6'4 and well over 300 pounds. She was with several friends -- all 18 and older. The cowgirl's names were Misty, Brooke and Michelle. Misty was 31 and the others were 30. Rumor has it that Misty flipped Andrea off as the women were passing her on a country road at night. Misty was supposedly a second-degree black belt. She used to pick on some of the girls in her area and beat them  up.  But being a superior hefty jock, Andrea went after her anyway. Let's pick up the story just as Andrea runs the cowgirls off the road. (The story is told mostly from Misty's perspective. Sandy, Lori and Tammy are Andrea's friends.)

     “Oh, God,” cried Misty. “My neck.” She was lying across the back seat with her head canted against the armrest of the back door. The truck was now tilted at thirty degrees toward the passenger’s side against the embankment, making it difficult to sit up. Misty placed her hand on top of her cowboy hat just as the rear driver’s side door opened. Her eyes goggled at the site of several figures milling around outside.
    “There you are, you little shit,” some girl shouted. Seconds later, someone grabbed the cuffs of her jeans and pulled her toward the open door. Then, two strong hands grabbed both sides of her Levi’s and pulled her forward. Misty felt a pair of arms wrap around her back in the darkness as her tits got squished against the girl’s big belly. “Okay, out you go, bitch!”
The girl hoisted Misty out of the truck, carried her up the hill and dropped her on boots. She stumbled a bit on the gravel but regained her balance. The door slammed behind her.
     “Get the other two,” the girl said, as Misty raised her left hand to keep her cowboy hat from falling off.
     “The truck’s up too high,” said Lori. “I can’t get up there.”
     “Then let Sandra get them. She’s a lot taller than you.”
    The slim girl stepped off the truck as the other one strolled forward, placed her shoe on the outside step and climbed inside the Ford-250.
     Misty watched as the same girl, who was about six-four, pulled Brooke and Michelle out of the truck in tandem. They slogged forward to the road—both weary and groggy from the wreck—as the girl pushed them up the hill by their backs. The girl then looked over at the behemoth in front of her—the one who was standing in front of Misty.
     “Anyone else in there?” said the tall, fat girl (Andrea).
     “No, not that I could see.”
     “Okay, walk those two toward the back of the trailer.”
     “My pleasure,” said the tall girl, as she grabbed Brooke and Michelle by their elbows.”
     “You two shit-kickers are coming with me.”
     The fat girl chuckled as she watched Sandra escort the two women toward the back of the trailer. She then looked down at Misty. The girl was nearly a foot taller than her and as wide as a stable door. Misty felt a shiver crawl up her spine when the girl glared at her. A sudden weakness shot through her legs.
     “Ohhhh,” cried Brooke, as the tall girl shoved her against the side of the trailer. She was holding her forehead. Another fat girl now had ahold of Michelle’s arm.
     “What do you want with us?” shouted Misty, as she looked up at the tall, fat girl.
     “That’s for me to know and you to find out?” The girl continued glaring at her with her big hooded eyes. She then placed her hands on her wide hips and smirked. Misty could smell alcohol on her breath.
     “What are you all, high school girls or something?” said Misty.
     “That’s right, genius.”
     “Well, my friends and I are from Oklahoma. They’re both thirty and I’m thirty-one. We’re heading to a rodeo up in Michigan.”
     The fat girl stepped forward and stabbed Misty in the sternum with her pointer finger. The force of the blow knocked Misty down the hill several feet as her back slammed against the truck’s rear door. Pain surged across the front of her ribcage from the girl’s poke.
     “I don’t give a f*ck where you’re from or how old you are. You flipped me the bird back there, and I didn’t appreciate it.”
    “I’m sorry, but you were trying to run us off the road.” Misty winced and bit her lower lip as she rubbed the front of her chest. She was still leaning against the truck.
    “That’s a matter of opinion.”
     “You were trying to run us off the road.”
     The huge girl ignored her and looked over at the tall girl who had just released Brooke. Both Brooke and Michelle were leaning against the trailer, trying to get over the shock of the accident.   
     The same two girls were keeping an eye on them.
     “What are we going to do with them?” said Sandra, the tall girl.
     “Nothing yet because I want to talk to this little bitch. But once I’m through talking, we’ll walk them up the road to the bridge. It’s the one I was telling you about earlier.”
     “Wait a minute,” said Misty. “We have a rodeo to get to tomorrow. We need to get going here.”
     The huge girl chuckled as she looked down at Misty. She wiped some sweat from her brow. “I don’t think this little shitkicker gets it.”
     “Gets what?” said Misty, as she pushed herself away from Brooke’s truck and stepped forward. "I'm gonna tell you something, fat girl. I have a black belt in karate and I'll use it if you try that again.
     The fat girl shook her head and chuckled as Misty climbed the hill.  Misty was pissed.  She stepped forward and had just raised her left leg to throw a side kick when she got socked in the gut with an uppercut.
She sank to her knees on the gravel, bent forward and held her stomach with both hands. It felt like her insides were shoved through her back.
    “Ohhhhhh.” She bit her lower lip and winced. “Ohhhhh.”
    “By the way, what is it that you said to me back there when you flipped me off, you little karate c*nt? Do you remember?” The teen stepped toward Misty and looked down at her.
    “Uhhh . . . no,” said Misty. “Ohhhh . . . oh, God, it hurts.”
    “Sure, it does. I hit pretty hard.”
    The girl inched closer to Misty, grabbed her chin and lifted it up. She then lowered her moon-size face toward Misty’s thin oval one.
    “You said, and I quote, “‘Stay the fuck on your side of the road, asshole.’”
    “I . . . I-I’m so sorry,” said Misty. She was still holding her stomach. “I-I really am. I-uh-uh-I-I didn’t mean it. You were trying to run us off the road, and it pissed me off.”
    “I-uh-uh-uh-I,” the girl mocked. “What are you, some stuttering retard?”
    “No,” said Misty. “I’m just scared.”
    “Of me?” said the girl.
    "But I thought you were some tough-ass karate chick."
    "I . . ."  Misty retched and couldn't speak. 
    The girl guffawed, then her smile turned into a glare. “You should be scared.” The teen smirked. “You should be very afraid, bitch.”
     Misty lowered her head as she held onto her stomach. The girl reached down, grabbed her chin again and raised her head up.
     “Well, how about this?” said the girl.
     “What?” said Misty. She gazed up at the fat teen—mouth open.
     Seconds later, the back of the girl’s hand crashed into her right temple and knocked Misty on her side. Her cowboy hat went flying halfway toward Michelle and Brooke, who were at least twelve feet away.
     “That,” said the girl. “Does that piss you off?”
     Misty didn’t answer. Her right ear was ringing and she couldn’t see straight. She tried to push herself up, but couldn’t; the side of her head sank to the gravel.
     “I asked you a question, cowgirl c*nt.” Andrea walked over and kicked Misty in the leg. “Did what I do to you just now piss you off?”
     “Leave her alone,” shouted Brooke. “You’ve obviously injured her.”
     “You stay out of it,” the obese girl yelled. “I’m asking your friend here, not you.” She stabbed the toe of her gym shoe at Misty’s belt buckle, thrusting her hip up. Misty’s eyes were closed.         
     She bit her lower lip to fight the pain throbbing through her skull. “How ‘bout that, skinny karate cowgirl. Am I pissing you off yet?”
     “No,” said Misty, as she opened her eyes. She again tried to push herself up to a seated position, but fell back on her side. The huge girl cackled.
     “Well, let me tell you something, little blonde cowgirl. I’ve got a whole lot more planned for you and your friends here.” She looked at Sandra. “Let’s get them up to the bridge.”
     “I don’t know about this, Andrea,” the other fat girl said, as she placed her hand on Michelle’s chest, pinning her against the trailer.
     “What? I just want to fuck with them for a while, then I’ll let their little asses go.”
     Misty was half out of it when she felt herself being hoisted up and flung across someone’s beefy shoulders. She suspected it was the giant high school girl—the one who’d just beaten the shit out of her with a couple blows—but she was too weak to look. Her heart was pounding; she was having trouble catching her breath. She now really regretted giving the girl the finger.
     Misty felt as if she were floating through mid-air, her long blonde hair hanging down, head lolling over the girl’s bulk, as the girl carried her up the dark, desolate road. Then the terrain started to incline a bit and the girl repositioned Misty on her shoulders—her crotch now wedged tightly against the inside of the behemoth’s elbow. Coupled with the tightness of her Levi’s, the position was very uncomfortable on her pussy. But she couldn’t move because the girl had her forearm pinned against the back of her leg and ass.  She suspected the girl was deliberately trying to hurt her crotch as mean as she was.
     “How much further?” someone said.
     “It’s just up the hill to the right,” said Andrea. “Relax, I’m the one carrying the extra, uh, hundred pounds. I guess she weighs that much.” She chuckled.
     Misty couldn’t see her two friends—with her face resting on the girl’s beefy shoulder—but sensed they were walking behind her. She started to raise her head so she could locate Brooke and Michelle, but feared the girl would do something drastic—like throw her on the ground and crush her. She was that vicious.
     Crickets stridulated in the darkness. A gentle breeze stirred up and soughed through the trees on the far side of the road. The wind continued to blow for five or six seconds, then stopped.
The huge girl stopped walking. Misty felt her make quarter turn to the left.
     “The dirt path’s just up ahead,” she said. “Then it’s only another ten feet or so to the bridge. Andrea sighed. “Let’s take them up alongside the cliffs, then I’ll decide what to do with them.”
     “Aren’t we taking this a bit too far?” some girl behind Misty said.
     “Not really. They asked for it, especially this little cxnt.” She turned her head and looked at Misty.
     “But this was supposed to be one last trip before we graduate.”
     “It still is,” said the behemoth. “But our trip’s just gotten a little more fun. That’s all.”
     “I hope you know what you’re doing, Andrea.”
     “I do, Shaw, so just relax.  Besides, we could just dispose of these little shitkickers without anyone knowing if we want to."
     Tammy was stunned by the comment.  Andrea guffawed.
     “There you go, bitch,” said Andrea, as she dipped her right shoulder down and dropped Misty on the wooden bridge.
     Misty flipped over and landed on her ass. “Ohhhh!” Her boots clopped off the hard surface, then she collapsed to her back.
     “Okay, you’ve proved your point, beating up my friend?” said Brooke, as she approached the large teen girl. “Now it’s time to let us go.”
     Andrea turned and glared at her. “I thought I told you to shut the f*ck up, cowgirl.”
     “Let us go. We have a rodeo to go to tomorrow.”
     Andrea chuckled. “Like I said before, I don’t give a flying fuck about your rodeo. Your friend here was rude to me back there, and I’m going to teach her a lesson.”
     “But you already did,” said Brooke. “She’s very sorry, aren’t you, Misty?”
     Misty tried to raise her head off one of the wooden planks, but it fell back to the bridge. She was too weak to respond.
     “Shut that bitch up before I come over there and strangle her,” said Andrea.
     “Please leave her alone?” Brooke shouted. “I’m begging you.”
     “Lori, shut that bitch up. Now!”
     Lori walked over toward Brooke, raised Andrea’s pistol up and pointed it at Brooke’s temple. “Say another word and I’ll blow your head off, cowgirl.”
     Brooke raised her arms up. “Okay. Okay. Don’t shoot.”
     “We just want to get out of here,” said Michelle, as she tried to shake herself loose from Tammy’s grip. “We’ve had a long drive and we’re tired.” Tammy wrapped her forearm around her neck and applied a chokehold. Michelle arms fell to her sides and she started gagging.
     The more you bitches keep talking, the longer it’s going to take,” said Andrea, “so I suggest that you all just shut the fuck up.”
     No one said anything for the minute. Andrea waddled over to where Misty was lying. She stepped up next to her and shoved her hip with her shoe.
    “Get up, cowgirl!”
     Misty didn’t respond. She just lay on her back with her arms and legs spread-eagled.
     “I said get your skinny ass up!”
     When Misty didn’t respond, Andrea bent down, grabbed the back of Misty’s hair, bent her torso forward and pulled her to her feet. Misty screamed.
     “Please leave her alone,” cried Brooke.
     Andrea ignored her. She pulled the slim woman toward her, grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Misty’s knees buckled. Her head lolled forward. Andrea grabbed her hair again and pulled it back.
     “Let’s see if you can stay on your feet long enough to fight me, karate c*nt,” she said, as she bent Misty back like a pretzel.
     Misty’s eyes widened as she stared at the girl. She was terrified; the girl was a real nut job.
     Seconds later, the girl released her grip on Misty’s hair. The woman teetered backward and then stumbled to her right. Her legs wobbled as she tried to maintain her balance.
     Despite her lack of energy, Misty was getting steamed at being the girl’s punching bag. All of a sudden she cocked her arm back, lunged forward and tried to slap Andrea in the face. But Andrea blocked her wrist with an outward thrust of her left hand and slammed her fist into Misty’s mouth. She hammered the cowgirl with a couple more powerful punches before Misty collapsed to the bridge on her stomach.
     “No!” cried Brooke, but Lori again raised the gun to her head and hushed her.
     “Here, use this,” said Tammy. She walked forward and wrapped a strip of her torn shirt around Brooke’s mouth, tightening it so the woman’s mouth was wide open. Tammy had just torn her shirt a couple minutes earlier to gag Michelle.
     “Put them both over against the bridge railing while I take care of this one,” said Andrea. “Trust me, it won’t take that long.”
     “Okay,” said Tammy.
     Both woman moaned but couldn’t talk. Tammy escorted them to the railing by their elbows, then shoved them down on their asses.
     Meanwhile, Andrea placed her hands on her hips and looked down at Misty. She then stepped forward, stuck her shoe under her stomach and flipped her on her back.
Misty went flying up in the air—both arms flailing—before landed on her back with a thud. Andrea reached down, grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her to a seated position.
     “Owwww!” said Misty, as she sat there gawking up at the big teen—blood now gushing from her nose and mouth.
     “I bet you wished you’d never stuck your middle finger out at me now,” said Andrea—her voice a bit lower. “Huh, cowgirl?”
     Misty didn’t answer. Her eyes were now mere slits. Her jaw hung open as blood spilled onto jeans. Her shirt was splattered with it. Andrea ignored the gore as she was used to it. She’d beaten plenty of girls and women to pulps.
     “That finger you raised up at me still pisses me off,” said Andrea, “so I’m gonna have to do something about it.”
     “What are you going to do?” said Misty, but her voice was barely above a whisper.
     “Give me your right hand.”
     “What for?”
     “So you can atone for your misdeeds back there.”
     Without thinking, Misty held her right hand out. She didn’t care. She’d let the girl hit her or toss her around some more if she’d eventually let her go. What else could she do? The teen was huge. Her karate skills were useless against the bruiser.
     But Misty had no idea how vicious the fat high school girl really was. In a flash, she immobilized Misty’s wrist with her viselike grip, and curled her other three fingers down. Then, just as a train whistled in the distance, drowning out the gasps and whispers of Brooke and Michelle, Andrea jerked Misty’s middle finger to the right and broke it.
     “Oh, God,” cried Misty. “Ohhhhhh!”
     She fell on her back, grabbed her finger and started wailing. Tears welled in eyes as she writhed in agony on the hard, wooden surface of the bridge. “Ooooooooo.”
     “I really doubt you’re going to go rodeoing with that finger now,” said Andrea. She cackled as Misty continued wailing.
     Andrea continued pounding Misty. The last blow caught her in the eye and knocked her against the railing of the bridge. She was leaning across the railing, using her armpits to hold herself up, when Andrea charged up behind her and kneed her in the back.
     Misty’s head shot back, then rolled forward. She shut her eyes and grimaced as her boots slipped backward and her chin struck the railing. She was still clinging to the railing with her armpits when the big girl stepped to the left of her.
     Andrea smirked as she raised her arm and pounded Misty in the jaw with the bottom of her fist.
     Misty landed on her side. Andrea walked over and kicked her in the back, rolling Misty over on her stomach. The woman screamed as her finger hit the surface of the bridge. She had just raised her bloody face, ready to scream at the girl to stop beating her. But nothing came out of her mouth.
Instead, the lard-ass kicked her in the face. She then grabbed her by the back of the hair, pounded her in the face a couple more times, then dragged her over by the far end of bridge—only five feet from the edge of the cliff. She dropped her down on the planks again.
     Misty landed on her back. Her head now lay near the lowest rail of the bridge overlooking the steep gorge below. Her face was covered with so much blood, she was barely recognizable.
“Get this through your thick little skull, cowgirl. No one ever disrespects me, you hear me, you little shit?”
     “I’m so sorry,” said Misty, but her voice was garbled because of all the blood. She sprayed blood from her mouth as she continued talking. “I didn’t mean to flip you off. I was just upset.” She rolled onto her stomach and reached out for the girl’s thick ankle—her broken finger bent in front of the forefinger. “Please stop beating me. I beg you.”
     “Maybe it’s time to let them go,” said Tammy. “This has already gone too far.”
     “Maybe you should shut your trap, Shaw, before I shut it for you.”
     “That’s right. Whatever.” Andrea curled her fists as she glared at her friend. Tammy just waved her off.
     “I warned you not to drink so much.”
     “I warned you not to drink so much,” Andrea aped.
     Misty tried to get to her knees, but fell to stomach. She reached for Andrea’s ankle and crawled forward. She then leaned to her left, looked up at the ruthless teen and said, “You’re just a kid . . . and I’m an adult.” Misty gasped for air. “You need to learn to respect your elders.”
     “I don’t have any respect for some bitch who flips me off. And as far as you being an adult—I don’t really give a shit.”
     Misty lowered her head as she held onto the girl’s ankle. Andrea watched as the slim woman grabbed her calf and tried to pull herself up.
     “Here, let me help you, bitch.” Andrea reached down, grabbed Misty by the front of her neck with both hands and pulled her to her feet. She then started strangling her.
     “I’m sorry, cowgirl, but you still haven’t atoned for cussing me out.”
     Misty gawked at Andrea—tears pouring from her bulging eyes. The front of her shirt was ripped and hanging out of her Levi’s.
     "I should just throw you off this bridge," said Andrea.  "But I'll let you go. But if I ever catch any of you cowgirls around her again, I won't be responsible for what I do."


« Last Edit: October 08, 2018, 08:42:21 AM by bikemanrick »