Sister Versus Brother 2 - My sister the bully
by MBP  MWFAN318@aol.com 
An installment in a continuing sister versus brother series.


I awoke suddenly, aware that someone else was in my bedroom. It was easy to
tell: my sister's slim, shapely, strong legs were positioned across my chest.
On my left, I could see Sharon, my sister's best friend, sitting comfortably
on the floor, waiting. I was glad I slept in my boxers, although the quilt was
still covering the lower part of my body. I looked back at my little sister.

"What do you need, Sabrina?"

"You need to get up and drive us to the mall. There's a sale going on at
Macy's and Mom gave me money for clothes."

Mildly, I began to protest, but saw Sabrina pointing her feet, displaying the
lean muscles in her legs from years of dance and gymnastics. I thought better
of it.

"OK," I said, as I starting to rise from the bed. "You two get out of here
while I get dressed. And I need to call Howie to tell him I'll be a little
late."

The girls jumped up and quickly exited. My sister called back, "We'll be
waiting at the car."

Twenty minutes later, I was driving my 1993 Chevrolet Impala to the Lincoln
Mall. The two girls in the back chattered excitedly about clothes; I felt like
a chauffeur. I was 16 and had recently gotten my driver's license a year early
through the successful completion of a Driver's Education course. My parents
had purchased and insured my car in return for my helping them take Sabrina
around to her many activities. But this wasn't one of the required rides.

"I'm not your chauffeur," I said to the girls. "One of you can sit in the
front with me." Actually, I didn't care they were both in the back. I was just
feeling obnoxious.

"Of course you are," replied my sister. Unexpectedly, I felt a bare foot press
up against my face and neck and I nearly lost control of the wheel.

"Don't do that, Sabrina," I snapped as I tried to push her foot away,
unsuccessfully. "I'm driving."

Sabrina left her foot there a few more moments for emphasis and pulled it away
at her leisure. I could hear Sharon giggle and could feel my face flush; I
stopped the car.

"I know I have to drive you today," I said defiantly through my embarrassment.
"But you could at least be somewhat grateful."

"Sorry, Roger," my sister said, half meaning it. "Please take us to the mall."

Somewhat mollified, I started the car and a few minutes later we pulled into a
parking space. I turned to the girls, looking at my watch.

"It's 10:30. Do you want to meet at the food court at noon? We could have
lunch before we go home."

"Sounds like a plan," the girls said in unison as they bounded swiftly away.
Within seconds, I was alone.

Like most of my friends, I hated shopping, and I hated the mall, but like most
of my friends I spent quite a lot of time there. It was easy to guess why:
girls. They liked to shop, and they liked the mall, and we liked them. And
that's how I killed the next 90 minutes; browsing through the stores and
girl-watching. The time passed quickly. At 12:00 sharp, I was sitting at a
table for four in the food court waiting for the girls.

I had gotten tired of waiting and selected a Quarter Pounder meal (no cheese,
biggie size) at McDonald's. I was just finishing the feast when Sabrina and
Sharon dropped a bunch of packages on the table. It was 12:45 and I was
pissed, to say the least.

"Where the hell have you been?" I asked angrily as I finished the last of the
fries. "You know I'm supposed to meet Howie at 2:00."

My sister shot me a nasty look and said carelessly, "We lost track of the
time. Sorry."

"Well go get something to go and let's move. I still need to shower when I get
home." The girls complied nicely, and 15 minutes later they were in the Impala
eating each other's food, which they also got at McDonald's. I drove straight
home as Sharon only lived two doors down.

I was showered and buffed and ready to go when Sabrina knocked on my door.

"Don't forget," she said after entering the room. "We're going to go to
Vicki's at 4, and we need a lift."

Vicki lived less than a half mile away. Sabrina had walked there a hundred
times; at least she had before I got my license.

"Can't you just walk," I pleaded. "Howie and I are going to spend the
afternoon with some of the guys."

"You can bring Howie along for the ride," Sabrina suggested. "But you are
going to drive me."

My parents were not due home until later. I didn't have to do it, but my
sister's voice told me I did. It would ruin my afternoon.

"OK," I said in meekly, grabbing my keys and leaving while I spoke. "Be ready
at 3:45."

It was 6:30. I pulled into the driveway, parking alongside my parents' Volvo.
They were obviously home. When I got out, I saw Sabrina and Sharon sitting on
the stoop. Seeing me, Sharon said bye to my sister to go home. When she passed
me, she whispered.

"You're in such trouble, Roger."

I looked at Sabrina's face and it was dark and stormy. This would not be a
good night. She said nothing as I passed her. She just followed me into the
house, and we sat down to dinner with the folks. After eating and helping with
the dishes, I went to my room to wait for the inevitable.

At this point, I should talk about my situation. About four months ago,
Sabrina and I were watching a program on the TV in the family room. My Mom and
Dad were out for the day, and I had the remote control. When our program was
in commercial, I would scan the other channels for other shows, movies and
sports. I always went back to the original program - I forget what it was -
but occasionally we would miss a few seconds. My sister always hated the way I
handled the remote, and she was getting pissed. She demanded the remote from
me. I refused, she attacked me, and we start wrestling.

Sabrina is 3 years younger than me and a good deal smaller and lighter. So it
was my surprise when I lost the wrestling match. Sabrina's arms and her body
were shockingly strong, but it was her legs that decided the match. In a short
time, she put me into a body scissors, then changed over to the neck. The
gymnastics and the dance had given her lots of strength and flexibility, and
Sabrina was able to put herself into all types of positions in which to use
her legs. I could not escape from the body scissors, but the neck scissors was
worse. I screamed a submission to her within seconds of her applying the hold.
She released me and took the remote, and I spent several minutes rubbing my
sore neck and staring at the then 12-year-old girl that had defeated me so
easily and completely.

I instigated a wrestling match with Sabrina a short time after that, and lost
just as badly. I tried to stay away from her legs, but my wrestling was too
defensive and she was able to handle me with her arms and torso. And then she
got her legs into it and that was that.

I stayed away from her after that, but Sabrina started bossing me around a
bit. And it's gotten worse since I got my car. She loves to request something
of me and then pose a bit, daring me to do something. Sharon knows about the
situation also, but I don't think anyone else does. It's bad enough that
Sharon does know, because her giggles remind me of my cowardice. I'm not
really sure I'm a coward to not fight someone who can beat me up, but the fact
that my nemesis is my younger sister makes me feel worse than if it was some
big guy who was doing it.

At around 9 o'clock, Sabrina entered my room without knocking and carefully
closed the door. My parents were downstairs at the far end of the house and
wouldn't hear anything that was going on. She still had the air of doom: my
doom.

She said icily, "You said you'd be back to drive Sharon and me. What happened?
Did you forget?"

I could have pleaded that I forgot, but that was not my intention. People
always say one has to stand up to a bully and my sister had become one.

"I didn't forget. But I wanted to hang out with my friends. You can't always
get what you want."

"Didn't you know what was going to happen to you?" Sabrina asked quietly.

"Yeah," I replied. "I did. But you've become a bully and I felt I needed to
stand up to you."

I saw she was thinking, and I was hoping the bully remark might bring back a
little of my sweet sister.

"You're right, I'm a bully," she said as I listened hopefully. "But I don't
care. You'll listen to me, or you'll take your punishment."

I had lost my gamble. As my sister advanced towards me, I considered some way
of defending myself. I considered swinging at her, but there were two
problems. One, if I actually hit her, my parents would punish me forever for
hitting my younger sister. And two, I was afraid I might just make her madder.
It was wrestling or nothing. So I tackled her.

Sabrina fell down hard with me on top of her as I felt the momentary thrill of
winning. I was about 60 pounds heavier so I hoped to stay on top. But then she
grabbed my head with her strong arms and locked her legs around my body. The
headlock hurt, and I couldn't manage to get my arms to a position to break her
hold. The body scissors was uncomfortable, but manageable, and it was best to
move my head just enough to loosen the pressure of the headlock. Sabrina broke
the stalemate, however, as she basically turned me over onto my back and
quickly locked a head scissors.

The head scissors hurt, but it wasn't as bad as one solely on the neck. I
pulled at her slim legs, and she trapped one of my hands with both of hers. I
couldn't do anything with my one free hand, as I writhed and struggled in the
secure hold. I decided this would be a good time to submit, before the
wrestling became more painful.

"I give up, Sabrina," I said, trying to sound hurt but sincere. "I'll do
anything you want; take you wherever you want to go."

Sabrina didn't let go, nor did she say anything. She twisted my trapped arm,
then inched her leg hold along my head. I could feel her intention: a neck
scissors. I pulled desperately at her legs with my free arm. Sabrina twisted
my other arm more violently; I cried out. Her legs were now in position. She
tightly locked the neck scissors as I started to scream.

"Shush," Sabrina said as she covered my mouth with one of her hands. "We don't
want Mom and Dad to find out, do we?"

I didn't care. At least I'd be free. I continued to scream, but Sabrina's hand
muffled the sound. She let up on the hold and I quieted. Twisting her body,
she kept me trapped between her thighs. Now she was sitting on my chest,
smiling wickedly. Both my arms were free, so I pulled ineffectively at her
thighs. Sabrina put her hands along her side, where I could lock my own with
hers. It was an invitation to a test of strength. I accepted, forgot about the
scissors, and concentrated on the arm joust.

We were both right-handed. In our position, the test of strength pitted right
hand (and arm) against left hand. My hands were bigger; my arms thicker. Would
it matter? Part of my hope died as Sabrina easily took care of my weaker arm
with her stronger one, twisting my left hand. I placed everything I had into
my right arm. I had to win; just had to. It was a tough battle, as we were
even for a relatively long time. Eventually, one of us got a slight advantage,
and it wasn't me. I watched in horror as Sabrina slowly overpowered me.

"I'm stronger than you, and I can beat you up," my little sister said for
emphasis. "For your punishment, Sharon and I are going to tell that to all of
your friends and all of ours. And then I'm going to invite over some of your
buddies to show them."

It was my worst nightmare. To have everybody find out would be crushing.
Sabrina knew this. She also knew something I didn't; something I found out
much later. In general discussions with other girls in her classes, Sabrina
learned that quite a few of the girls she knew could beat up their brothers,
both younger and older, as well as other boys. The girls won at arm-wrestling;
they won at wrestling; they won at other sports. The main problem for the boys
was they were so afraid that someone else would find out that they never
talked about it. If the boys knew it was pretty common, it wouldn't be such an
embarrassment. But they kept silent and it remained a dirty little secret.

"Please, Sabrina," I pleaded. "Don't tell anyone else. I'll do anything you
want. Anything."

Sabrina said nothing for a minute. She let me stew, enjoying the worried look
on my face, loving the control. Then she tightened her scissors and twisted my
hands hard. I muffled a scream, suffering in silence. I somehow knew this is
what she wanted.

Sabrina spoke to me as if I was the younger one. "There's a good boy, Roger.
Here are the terms of our deal. You do what I want, when I want you to do it.
Understand?"

I nodded my head.

"Say you understand. Say it out loud."

"I understand."

Sabrina released me and stood up. She looked down at me with contempt. "You
are quite a man, begging a little girl to stop hurting you. There's a girl in
my gymnastics class who is 9. I'll think I'll invite her over. She could
probably beat you."

I said nothing. There was nothing to say. Sabrina left without another word. I
cried myself to sleep.