Teen Rivals by Bellylord
I knew Karen and Lisa all through high school. They were a year younger than me, but we had a few classes together, lived in the same suburb, and sat together at lunch every day. If we had been the cool, sophisticated teenagers that we saw in the movies, or that many of the kids we knew aspired to be, we would have been dating and exploring ***. But we were timid, cerebral kids -- nerds -- and our three-way friendship was innocent.
This is not to say it wasn't underlain with ****** tensions. By the time my two friends were 16, Lisa had dated a few college guys and had had some simple ****** experiences with them. Karen was a virgin from top to bottom, but clearly aggressively curious about ***, even though her family was very religious. She seemed to have marked me as one who would help initiate her into the magical world, which meant she began to see her more sensual friend Lisa as something of a rival.
All this is guesswork on my part; all I know is, as the spring of my senior year wore on, the tension between the two friends seemed to soar. Karen was always picking on Lisa. At the same time, she was dropping heavy hints to me about wanting to be invited to my prom, and what might happen between us if I took her.
I have to confess, I found Lisa the more attractive of the two. Both young girls were Middle-Eastern and looked it, but both were thoroughly American in personality. Karen's father was Lebanese, and he ran the local oriental carpet dealership. She was slender, pale like her Irish mother, but with long fine black hair. Lisa was full-blooded Armenian. She was a sallow, olive-skinned beauty with thick long brown hair, huge dark eyes, and a lush, ripe full-hipped body.
We used to spend a lot of time after school in Karen's family room, watching television. I don't remember what the show was on this particular afternoon, but it involved a fistfight, or rather a beating. I knew Karen had a fascination with this kind of thing, and she talked more than other girls about wrestling and boxing. But she seemed to be totally absorbed by the violence in this television program.
Lisa and I were slumped back on the big orange couch, but Karen was on the edge of her seat. One man was being held back, his arms chicken wing, while another man beat him up. The man taking the beating was soft. His belly stuck out. And his rival punched him there, right in the gut. Finally, they cut to a commercial. Karen slouched back. "Uuuuh!" she let out a sympathetic moan. She touched her stomach.
"How much does it hurt to get punched in the belly?" Lisa asked. She was looking at me, but Karen didn't see that.
Karen turned and glanced at her, for just half a second, and her eyes dropped from Lisa's face to her belly, quickly, before she replied. "Lots. Especially if you're soft."
Now you have to remember that this was the mid-1970s, and young girls everywhere walked around in hip-huggers and midriff tops. Both my friends were dressed that way on this warm spring day, and I remember the outfits well. Karen's jeans were pale blue, Lisa's were black. Karen's top was bright pink, and Lisa's was a rusty orange. Both ensembles exposed wide swaths of a soft bare belly.
"I'm not soft," Lisa objected.
"I meant the guy in the fight."
"No, you didn't. You said I was fat."
"I said softly, not fat. Well, so what if you are?"
"I'm twice as tough as you."
"Oh don't make me laugh."
The show came back on, but back and forth the girls went, bickering, and every time I thought it had died down it started again. At last, the program ended, and Lisa and Karen were just about spitting at each other by this time. So I proposed a contest, to settle their disagreement and blow off their steam at each other.
"It's called Mexican fighting," I said. "Guys do it all the time, and I know the rules and I can be your referee." To my delight and surprise, they went for it.
They stood as I instructed them, facing each other on the carpet between the sofa and the television, while I dragged the coffee table off to one side.
"So let me make sure I get this straight," Karen asked. "We alternate taking punches. And if you get knocked down, you lose your turn and get hit again."
"Yes," I said. "When it's your turn to get one, you have to put your hands behind your head. If you double up you lose your turn, and if you stay upright then you get to throw the next punch. You can only hit from the top of the waistband to just below the ribcage, and only the soft stuff."
Karen was grinning, flexing her fingers, and she couldn't keep her eyes off Lisa's pot belly. Lisa stood there, in her usual slouch.
"Who's the loser?" she asked.
"Whoever quits first," Karen said.
"Who goes first?" Lisa asked.
"Well, since Karen provoked the fight, you go first." I made it sound like a natural rule. Karen registered a mild objection, "Nuh-uh!" but acquiesced.
Lisa looked uncomfortable, but I think she felt confident that skinny Karen wouldn't be able to hurt her, and that her weight advantage would make short work of her rival. Besides, she was the insulted one, the one whose fragile teenage self-image was at stake here.
Karen placed her hands behind her head and tightened her belly. Her stomach was flat, supple, and pale but not firm. Lisa clenched her hand into a fist and sent a soft jab that touched Karen's navel with a small splat. Apparently, Lisa wanted to set a tone for taking it easy. Karen flinched, but she didn't even grunt. I was disappointed, but not for long. Because Karen, it seems, wasn't going to play along with Lisa.
"Is that the best you got?" she sneered. "Lisa, you're so weak." She lowered her hands and Lisa raised hers, doing her best to **** in her stomach. Even fully arched, her belly was visibly soft and fleshy. Karen unleashed a hard punch to the center of Lisa's stomach. Lisa jerked forward slightly and she grimaced and let slip a small grunt.
"She doubled up!" Karen said. "I get to go again."
Lisa protested, and I agreed with her. "It was just a check-swing," I explained to Karen.
Karen took a deep breath as she placed her hands behind her head. She knew she was going to get it this time, and I could sense fear in her eyes and stance. Lisa sent a strong jab into Karen's belly, but it hit her low, below the belly button. Karen's guts must have felt ugly with that knuckle in them, but it didn't trigger the reflexive muscles that would have made Karen double up. It shook her a little, and she stepped back, wide-eyed. But after pausing a full second, she realized she had taken the punch, and she pumped her fist in the air and said "Yes!"
Once Lisa set herself, Karen unleashed a forceful punch that landed dead center on the fleshy girl's stomach. This time her fist sank into Lisa, just below the ribcage, in her breadbasket, and it knocked the wind out of Lisa. Lisa's shoulders slumped and she groaned out loud as she dropped her hands to her stomach. Lisa stood crouched over for a few seconds, knees pressed together, open mouth blowing grunts toward the floor. Gradually she straightened up and looked into Karen's face. "That didn't hurt so bad," she said. Her voice quavered like she was underwater.
Karen was grinning now. "Oh, no, I'm sure it didn't hurt a bit," she said. "But you doubled up, so you lose a turn." Lisa took a few more seconds to catch her breath and gather herself. She tossed back the long bangs of her hair and raised her hands behind her head and sucked her stomach in as hard as she could. Her whole body tensed as she stood in the vulnerable stance. Her eyes cringed already and her face was turned a little to the side, away from Karen.
I could see the intensity in Karen's eyes as she launched her fist forward and mashed the same spot she had hit with the previous punch, just below the plump teen's ribs. Lisa doubled over, dropping her arms to cover her stomach. She took a step back and dropped to one knee, still clutching her pot belly. She stayed on one knee for about half a minute before pushing herself up. As she was still brushing the hair from her eyes with one hand, and adjusting her top with the other, Karen whipped her arm out and quickly thrust her fist into Lisa's belly. Lisa collapsed like a squeezebox with an open-mouthed grunt and lay writhing on the floor.
I agreed that was a cheap shot and that Karen must lose a turn because of it. Karen pouted, then when Lisa had gone to her feet, Karen quickly raised her hands behind her head, as if to pressure Lisa into delivering her next shot hastily. Lisa would have none of it. She took her time, cocked her arm, and delivered a forceful punch into Karen's breadbasket. Karen bowed forward abruptly, quickly straightened up, and looked at me with genuine fear in her eyes.
"That was a double-up," I said quietly. Karen knew it. She set herself again and tightened her abdominals. Lisa took a deep breath and then unleashed an uppercut. It was a low punch that rocketed up, catching Karen right above the belly button and slamming her stomach up into her diaphragm.
The result was devastating. Karen immediately dropped to both knees and folded forward till her forehead touched the carpet, with her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. Sharp convulsions pulsed throughout her body as she huddled.
Karen gingerly got to her feet and steadied herself. "Okay, get ready," I warned her because she seemed to have forgotten that she had lost another turn. Slowly the pale beauty raised her hands and clenched her fingers behind her head. Lisa swung quickly and landed a hard jab into the pit of Karen's belly. As before, the thin girl unwittingly pitched forward from the force of the punch, but this time through sheer will she caught herself before she had bent over, and she held to that half-bent pose. I gave her the honor of another punch at Lisa.
Karen straightened up and tried to gather her strength. Her belly had a pale pink blotch in the middle and her breathing was labored. She thrust her fist forward, but the strength was gone from her arms and the punch landed weakly on Lisa's bare midriff. No doubling up, not even a grunt. Karen bravely assumed the position. Lisa looked Karen up and down, and in an indifferent voice said, "I don't want to hurt you, Karen, why don't you just quit."
Which both Lisa and I know was exactly the thing to say to make Karen fight to the death.
"Take your shot," she hissed. "Or I get another one at you." Lisa shrugged, then, moving twice as fast as she had all afternoon, she spun into a punch that walloped Karen in the pit of her belly.
"OOOOOOUHHH!" the slender girl groaned as she threw her head back and suffered. In spite of her total effort, her body sagged forward until she had to grab the edge of the television set to steady herself. She stood sucking air and cursing quietly for a full minute.
She regained her composure, pushed her hair back, and stood there, breathing hard, with her hands on her forehead. I don't think she meant to be offering her body for another punch just yet, but Lisa took it that way.
"Time's up," she said quickly and plowed a straight jab into Karen's gut.
With a loud "OOOFFF!!" Karen took the punch and staggered back the length of the room. She tripped on her own feet and fell hard on her back. She lay there, winded, moaning, and rocking gently from side to side.
Lisa sat down on the couch, certain the fight had been beaten out of Karen. I was certain, too. It was a pitiful sight to watch Karen drag herself to the couch and sit there holding her tortured stomach with one hand, furtively wiping tears from her cheeks with the other. But then she stood up, red-eyed, and put her hands above her head. Maybe it was the thought of Lisa gloating or the thought of the respect she would lose in my eyes. She stood there, unsteadily, and dared Lisa with her eyes to take another shot. Karen's stomach was bright red, her arms and legs trembled and her forehead and throat glistened with sweat. Her face was ashen.
Lisa looked her over but didn't get up off the couch. "You can't take anymore," she said.
"Oh, you're quitting, Lisa?" Karen managed, in a rasped voice. "C'mon and take your turn or I win."
"You know you can't keep this up" Lisa sneered. "I don't want to HURT you."
That suggestion of patronizing concern brought tears to Karen's eyes quicker than any punch had. "Hit me, damn you! Hit me!" she said, voice trembling and on the edge of tears.
She grabbed Lisa's arm and pulled her up from her seat. She held her stance adamantly, bruised red belly thrust out. Lisa stepped forward into Karen's space. She took a deep breath and drew her arm back as far as she could, tightening her hand into a fist in the process. She moved with deliberate slowness, allowing Karen to watch every motion, every tendon. Karen was as tight as a wire, risking everything on one painful trial.
But then Lisa relaxed, and she smiled. She patted Karen's belly button with her hand and said, "No, I can't do it."
Karen relaxed, too, and I could see her putting together an argument that she was the winner of this contest. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, Lisa slammed her arm forward, grimacing, and powered a punch into Karen's soft supple body. It landed two inches above Karen's belly button, which disappeared for a couple of seconds as Lisa's fist caved Karen's stomach.
The sound that came from Karen sounded like "Bouhhh!!" and she immediately dropped to the floor. She was so silent and still, I thought she had passed out. I quickly knelt down beside Karen and took her head in my arms. I saw that she was conscious but temporarily unable to move or speak. She rocked back and forth with her hands kneading her stomach.
After about five minutes Karen was able to roll off my lap and sit up straight. By that time, Lisa had left and gone home.