The Punishment of a Sports Journalist Nicknamed “Small Tits”
Denise Morgan worked for a small-town local newspaper. She had recently gotten the job after transferring from Texas, where she also wrote a lot about high school girls’ sports. She was an excellent writer who’d received lots of awards. In fact, her writing was often too descriptive, and she didn’t shy away from blaming certain girls for their teams’ losses.
On this particular afternoon, about 4:30 p.m. after school, she’s meeting with the star swimmer, Emma Braxton, at the school natatorium. She wants to get her insight and analysis about last week’s state swimming competition, where Emma petered out toward the end of the freestyle competition and placed third overall. This little interregnum of fatigue cost East Central High School the state championship.
Denise met Morgan at the girl’s locker room door, then the two ambled into the natatorium, clambering up to the second tier of seats on the right side.
“Have a seat,” said Emma, who hadn’t smiled since the woman met her at the door.
“Thanks,” said Denise, who plopped down on the plastic seat and opened her laptop. She removed her black leather jacket and was now clad in jeans and a sleeveless white shirt. Emma wore purple pants and a sleeveless black shirt.
A little about the two before the interview starts. Denise is 33, has frizzy blonde hair and is only 5’4” and 110 pounds. Emma, who also plays softball and volleyball, is 18, 5’8” and 145 pounds. She’s a powerful swimmer and straight-A student. Denise likes country line dancing and breeding horses. Emma, who has little time outside of school and sports, likes hanging out with her jock friends.
“What happened last week?” said Denise, as she eyed the athletic girl.
Emma frowned, then gave the woman a Kubrick state, the one made famous by that Pyle character in “Full Metal Jacket,” who killed himself.
“Wow,” said Denise. “If looks could kill, I’d be dead meat right now.”
“Maybe that would be for the best.”
Denise’s throat churned. She gazed around the room, then looked back at Emma. “What are you saying?”
“You know what happened at the event,” said Emma. “I was sick with the flu and simply got tired. I’d been pushing myself all week long. Then you came out with that article that basically called me a quitter.”
“Hey, no . . . wait a minute,” said Denise. “I said your little lapse could’ve caused the team’s loss, not that it actually did.”
“That’s not how I read it,” said Emma. “Besides, in the first month you’ve been on the job, you’ve criticized several girls at my school. And now you’re even blasting some of the softball and track and field athletes before their seasons even begin.”
“It’s just critical journalism,” said Denise. “I’m not shy to speak my mind.”
“Neither am I, “said Emma. “In fact, I’ll go so far as to say your writing sucks – and you have small tits.”
“What?” cried Denise. “Well, I never . . .”
“Apparently not,” said Emma, as she stood up and pointed at Denise’s white shirt, where two nubbins lay pressed against the tight cotton material.
Denise placed her laptop on the seat, stood and faced the taller girl. “I resent that.”
“Too bad,” said Denise. “You’re in my school now and I can say whatever I want.”
Denise scanned the perimeter of the natatorium. “What’s going on here anyway?”
Emma smirked, then nodded. “It’s time for a little payback, Miss Denise Morgan, writing extraordinaire.”
Denise waved her hand at the girl in disgust, then turned to grab her laptop. “If you can’t have a mature conversation, I’m leaving.”
Emma grabbed the thin blonde’s arm. “Keep the laptop where it is.”
“No,” said Denise, “and let go of my fucking arm.”
“Awwww. You cussed at a high school kid.”
“That’s not all I’m going to do,” said Emma, as she pulled Denise down one of the steps.”
“I told you to let go of my arm.”
Emma chuckled, then scowled at the blonde. “And I’m refusing. Now step down out of the stands by the pool or I’ll push you down there.”
Denise tried to climb the steps to get her laptop, but Emma rushed after the blonde and grabbed both of her arms. She then, out of sheer anger and resentment – in an attempt to cause both pain and humiliation – grabbed both of Denise’s small tits and squeezed them as hard as she could. The woman screamed.
“What the fuck,” she shouted, as the girl continued clutching her breasts. She slapped the girl’s face, then grabbed both of her arms.
Emma walked her backwards down the steps, still grasping her tiny, cloth-covered boobs, turned her around and slammed her into the wall of the stands.
Denise's back hit the wall, then she dropped to her ass as her bootheels gave way on the tiny slippery tiles. The blonde grimaced, then grabbed her breasts to relieve the pain. Meanwhile, Emma walked up the steps, grabbed the reporter’s laptop and hurled it into the water.
“What the fuck are you doing?” cried Denise. “That’s a seven-hundred-dollar laptop.”
“No, it’s just a piece of junk now.”
Denise gritted her teeth, got to her feet, then pointed at the girl athlete. “I’m not going to let any high school girl make as ass out of me.”
“What are you going to do about, small tits.”
Suddenly the door on the far end popped open and more than a dozen high school girls walked through it. Denise just stood there, mouth agape.
“I’ve invited my friends here today to make sure you don’t go anywhere. Besides, a few of them have a bone to pick with you as well."
Denise eyed a tall, heavyset girl who’d she’d recently written about. The girl glared at her.
“Okay, what do you want?” said Denise, as she looked at Emma.
“Just a little payback, that’s all.”
Denise scanned the crowd of girls, then started walking the other way. Emma caught up with her and shoved her in the pool.
“Wooooo,” several girls shouted.
Denise surfaced from the deepest part of the shallow end, then ran her hand against her face to clear the water. She spit some water out of her mouth, walked toward the edge of the pool, then reached for the wall. But Emma grabbed her hair and flung her out into a deeper area of the pool.
“Let me go” shouted Denise, as she tread water in her jeans and boots.
“Okay,” said Emma, as she helped Denise out of the water. Denise had no sooner stepped onto the tiles, when Emma grabbed her by her neck and jeans and hauled her back into the water.
All of the girls laughed, then they all started shouting, “Small tits . . . small tits . . . small tits . . . small tits.”
Denise’s throat churned as she moved toward the other end of the pool. Her heart was pounding.
“You girls better let me out of here,” she said, “or I’ll call the principal."
Emma just chortled. “He’s gone home, and so have all the teachers. Besides, we run this school, not the teachers. This is East Central High School, the toughest school in the area."
Denise had read about the troubled school, though some of the athletes were honor students. Why then did they go to such a shitty school -- or at least an undisciplined one?
Emma walked to the other side of the pool. “Okay, I’ll let you go – on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That you never write a bad thing about me or any of the girls again.”
Denise nodded. “Okay.”
“Give me your hand.”
Denise reached out, then Emma pulled the slim woman out of the pool. But just as Denise reached for the railing to catch her breath, Emma grabbed her wrist, shot her arm between her legs, hoisted her overhead and tossed her in the pool again.
“Small tits . . . small tits . . . small tits,” the girls chanted.
Emma dunked Denise as she tried to get out of the pool a couple minutes later, then she pulled her out and shoved her back in. Denise ended up getting shoved or thrown in the pool eight times before Emma relented.
Denise was shivering as she stood before Emma and the girl athletes – her perky little nipples now protruding through her tight shirt.
“How about a wet t-shirt contest,” one girl said.
“Against this chick,” said Emma. “No contest, I’d win hands down.”
“We all would,” shouted the fattest girl.
Denise’s teeth chattered as she stood there in her wet jeans, sleeveless shirt and boots.
“Anyone else have a beef with this woman?” said Emma, as she eyed the other girls.
“I do,” said the fat girl.
Denise’s jaw dropped open as she eyed the powerful jock.
“Well, what do you want to do to her?”
“Take her in the locker room and work her over.”
“Swirly . . . swirly . . . swirly,” the other girls started shouting.
Emma grabbed Denise’s arm and walked her toward the tall, heavy girl.
“She’s all yours now.”
“Small tits . . . small tits . . . small tits.”
That ends our story today, but you can find out what happens to Denise later on. But let me warn you that the fat girl won’t take it easy on the female reporter known as “small tits,” and a few more girls may want a go at her, too
I hope you enjoyed today’s little tale. By the way, a story about a slim woman named “Big Tits” is just around the corner. Until then, enjoy.
BMR
