Hi, My Name’s Amy
By Millie Dynamite
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 5th and 6th 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 she 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 recess – 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 him 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 wait 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 fifth-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.
Sixth-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 budding titties poked out and stiff nipples were plainly visible. He didn’t like, he didn’t like that all she needed to be wearing a bra. The other boys can see stuff if he can, that was mean of her to let them see her nipple’s pointing out like that. 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 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.
“I’m not a fibber,” defensive he stammered. “You are mean.”
“But you still like me, in dirty ways don’t you – Faggot?”
“No,” his voice cracked as he ducked his head. She charged him hitting him in the stomach with her fist. Brian doubled over and she yanked his pants and boxers down around his ankles. She laughed and touched him down there. His little pecker stood straight out at its full inch and half. It spurted juice over the grass. Clutching his still hard pecker and balls tightly, she grabbed his scruffy blonde hair and hissed in his ear. It was almost seductive.
“Why you got a stiffy if you don’t love me?” she drew out the word love.
“Stop it leave me alone.” She shook his head and clamped on his prick and balls like a vice.
“No, get your ass in here,” she pulled him into the girl’s bathroom throwing him hard against the sinks. Pulling her top over head she dropped it on the nauseating floor. Putting her hands on hips she stood there like Supergirl still glaring at him.
“Whacky, whacky on your itty bitty pecky.” Brian stood there covering his small cock, “Jerk off Faggot that’s your gift to me.” He stood there not moving. Amy closed the distance between them in three fast steps again she hit in his tummy. Doubling over he coughed and sputtered then puked spraying what was left of his lunch over the floor.
Looking up he saw her standing between him and door twirling her top in her hand. Glaring that look that kept him afraid of her. She breathed in deep her tummy went tight and her small tits poked out a little more. Furrowing her eyebrows she flashed daggers at him.
“Do it whack that tiny baby dick – right now make me some nasty stuff.”
“What if I run,” the look on her face changed. It was … well, it was an expression of … joy.
“Do it, you’ll be sorry but go ahead and try.” While he had delayed, he worked his feet out of his pants and shorts. Brian started to move – what happened was a flash, he ran and she pounced. Her fist blow stuck his jaw then his pounded stomach again and again. Backing away from him, “Get to jerking.” Her angry voice burnt his ears and he grabbed his dick and began to jerk. Soon he blasted another load. She said, “Again.” He stood for a second but she raised her fist and his hand found his prick, to his amazement it was hard again.
After thirty minutes and six or seven climaxes, her hurt so bad. His little pecker was red, raw and sensitive. Amy pulled her pants off and her undies. She stood in front of him pointing to the ground in front of her.
“What?” Brian asked not understanding.
“On your knees right here,” she barked. He complied and stared at her. There were a few curly hairs there nothing more. Putting her hand in front of her pussy she pumped her fist like a boy jerking his dick, “Suck me off – Faggot.”
“What?” his confusion was evident.
“Shit, you need to eat me is what I mean. I’m just saying like a faggot since that is what you are. I know you would rather suck dick but eat me, so help me I’ll fuck you up if you don’t.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” lying through his teeth. Her open hand crashed across his cheek.
“I know you watched stuff online, now do it,” Brian imitated what he saw in videos. Amy grabbed his ears and pinched them holding his head she bucked into him. She treated him like she had a dick fucking his face. When she climaxed, she humped into his face hard and the juices swam out over his mouth. Brian at her salty, sweet syrup.
Amy got dressed while Brian stayed kneeling on the floor. She stood at the door and put her hand back in front of her crotch, pumping her fist.
“From now till you move, when you see me do this,” she stroked her imaginary pecker, “you get the fuck over here, Faggot!” Turning she walked out. Brian struggled to get dressed, his jaw ached, his dick hurt, and his knees were rubbed raw from the rough concrete floor. He made his way home crying all the way. Hiding out in his room he told his, mom, he didn’t feel well. He worried what she would do if she saw the bruises on his tummy or the swollen jaw.
That night the pillow rode his sore penis and yet again he blasted his juice. After school every day she would make the motion and meet him in the girl’s restrooms in the run down park. He would jerk off until she told him he could stop and then he would have his face humped by her.
Years passed he never meet anyone like her again. He would hear a girl make a harsh joke and think maybe, but no they were just a soft girl with a mean streak. They weren’t neither really cruel nor strong and Brian was only attracted to that particular woman. He watched porn but one site ruined it for him, after the girl debases the man, abuses him and humilities him they have some stupid happy, happy all just a game conversation for the camera. No, no, no, they need to be real bitches. High school was a bust he didn’t even go to the proms. He couldn’t communicate with the girls. If he did, they laughed at him but they weren’t mean, they weren’t strong. He needed that!
The State University had given him a free ride scholarship because of his grades. He went to State with little expectation of anything but a competent education. He wouldn’t make many friends, none would be female and he would be bored to tears the whole time. Since the last time he saw Amy, he was bored. As he unloaded his car, carrying his stuff to his garden level, private, dorm room his mind made up to not think about Amy. He was getting over this thing. He would make friends and find a way to get along with girls.
With his arms full he fumbled with the door lock. As he pushed the key in, at last, all he was hauling fell around his feet. Bending down he picked up a handful black spiked heeled boots came into his view. She kicked his hand making him drop what he was trying to pick retrieve. He looked up at the leather clad legs, the material clung to the muscled legs like a second skin. The leather fit her so tight a camel toe was visible. The lowrider’s clung to her hips a big metal buckle on her belt brandished the word BITCH. Her bare tummy was dark, tanned skin, the belly button stud had tiny silver dagger dangling from it. The girl wore a torn sleeveless T-shirt, which clung to her muscled chest. Small tits mounded with her puffy nipples poked out him.
“I didn’t know Faggot boys were allowed here,” there was a smirk on her face.
“Amy,” Brian said as she kicked him hard in the nuts. “Yep, that’s you,” he coughed out sucking in some air trying to recover. Her hand clenched in fist right in front of the camel toe and she jerked off her make-believe dick. “I have to get my stuff into my room.” Grabbing his blonde hair, she effortless tossed him in the room. He sprawled out at the foot of his bed.
“Later. You and I have unfinished business,” she slammed the door as she unbuckled the belt and pulled it free from her pants. “Or do want wear the word bitch backwards across your ass?” He had to resist a little so he stood – big mistake – there was a God and Brian was in heaven.
