Beast Legs

"Holy shit!" Her son stepped back, both out of surprise and a need to avoid his father crashing into him as she sent the large man to the ground. She looked up at her son for a moment, staring him down as if daring him to step in and try to help out his father, but if he had any thoughts of interfering in the contest, just that one quick, venomous look silenced them.

Her husband was starting to struggle up to his hands and knees, and now that she was convinced there was no chance of him interfering, she leaped on him, straddling his back, her thighs immediately wrapping around his core.

"DAMNIT!" He yelled, and then "AAAGGHHHHHHH!" As she squeezed in tighter around his body. Before she'd squeezed from the front and back, not a completely easy task, but limited in how much his muscles would come into play. Now she squeezed from the side, flexing her thighs to torture the man beneath her, and somewhat surprised and completely overjoyed to feel his muscles crumple easily as if all the manly power he had was nothing even worth thinking about compared to her legs.

"AAAAAGHHHHHH!" He was a large man, but despite the sheer mass of her thighs, she still had little trouble wrapping him up, and even less squeezing him back down, tormenting his abs, his stomach, his ribs, all his internal organs at once. When he was younger, he would have had enough hair for her to reach down and tug, but not anymore, and she had to settle for a swift strike to the back of the head which he responded to by ducking forward and covering his head against further blows.

She wasn't going to go for the head much more anyway. Instead, she reached back, and struck the man's ass, spanking him like she had their son so many times in the past, and making him cry out from the impact.

"How about now, Jim?" She demanded, "Do you remember now?" and then she continued, "Do you remember why I'm in charge NOW, JIM?!" Forcing him to answer by tightening her thighs and crushing again, making him scream like a little bitch.

"AGHHHHHHH!"

"You're too loud!" She told him, "Shut up!" and she proceeded to enforce her command on her own, releasing his midsection for only a single moment, and pulling herself forward, up his body and over his arms to wrap her powerful legs around his head, squeezing her thighs against the side of his head, and smothering him against her equally massive calves. She pulled her knees tighter to crush his head until she felt the skull starting to deform.

He whimpered and writhed beneath her, "Stop complaining, Jim, I know you want this, and you should be lucky I'm just putting you to sleep with these, I could do a lot worse, feel it?!" She yelled and squeezed tight as she could, so tight she was sure he couldn't hear her words anyway. He twisted and pulled on her legs, then instinctively started slapping on her thighs to tap out of the match, but she wasn't going to allow that anymore. Submitting to her wasn't going to be enough this time, he'd proven that to her already. She'd let him tap out last time, after all, and now she needed to teach him the lesson again. Soon enough, she felt him flop down, completely limp and helpless beneath her.

He wasn't the only one she needed to teach a lesson to either. She moved her legs enough to let the unconscious man at least catch a few breaths, but no more. She wasn't done proving her point, and even while he was out, she tensed her thighs on his head, slowly rolling her hips to arouse herself as well. The whole time, she didn't break her eye contact with her son, staring the young man down, as every pulse of her thighs was answered by a weak, unconscious groan from the man beneath her, and each roll of her hips continued with the dragging sound of his face against the floor.

While it wasn't the normal way to end up there, and certainly not the way her son would be used to, she was a woman on her knees with her head at eye-level with the young man's manhood. And she had to be honest with herself about one thing, as impressive as her husband was, that must have come from her side of the family because she had never seen Jim as impressively stiff as his son was right now.

"Do you still want to say you don't like my legs, Jay?" She asked, not blinking as she spoke, and continuing to grind her husband's face into the wood floor beneath them, and she felt him twitch, regaining consciousness. Before she spoke, she added, "And remember, I'm an inch away, I can SEE if you're lying... And you're not too old for your mother to take you over her knee. Or..." She said and pulled her calves and thighs tight to crush her husband against, and he writhed and squirmed helplessly, whimpering loud enough to be heard despite her muscle plugging his air, "Under it."

Her son looked like he wanted to say something, but his mouth just opened and closed like a beached fish, before he finally concluded, "N-no ma'am."

"Then go to bed. Your father..." She squeezed tighter and felt him collapse once more, "Already has."

"Y-yes ma'am."

The next day was a Saturday, which meant she had the house - And the men - All day, with neither school nor work to interrupt it, and she was going to take full advantage of her time with them. She started the day by picking out another one of her short skirts (her husband was pretending to still be asleep, but she knew he was watching) and then decided to make it even shorter, cutting off an extra inch from the bottom until if she was a man she would have been likely to get charged with public indecency for wearing it.

She made her own breakfast before her morning bike ride, taking longer on it than normal to ensure that her husband and son would have the chance to wake up and get going, meaning there'd be no way for them to avoid her when she got home. Once she did, she immediately picked up where the last night had left off, parading in the skirt and addressing her husband and son with the dominance she now knew they craved - And came to realize she had too.

"James," she told her son, "I need you to do my laundry."

"Don't you do that, mom?" He asked.

"Not anymore I don't," she answered quickly, "Now you or Jim handle that. The same with cleaning the floors, making beds, and heaven knows I've been telling you to pick up after yourself for the last 18 years, it's time you got to it!"

"But mom!" He started to object.

"No 'Buts,' James," she told him, "I make the rules around here."

"Nate and Jackie and Mike and I were going to hang out today!"

"Then they can hang out here while you wait for the clothes to dry."

He may have wanted to say something, but the tone of her voice made it clear no argument or objection would be permitted. With the matter of her son settled, she turned to her husband, "And as for you, Jim," she told him, "I made a shopping list that you're going to have to handle. You can pick some extra things if some of those are on sale, but DON'T go over $75. You'll have to handle that later, though, there's still dishes left over from last night."

"But Bett-"

"No arguments from you either, Jim, I've spent 23 years doing dishes, and I heard somewhere a marriage was SUPPOSED to be a partnership, so by my count, that means a good 8400 days of it being your turn to handle that task before I have to do it again. After you're done with that and the shopping, you can clear all those damn wrestling trophies off the mantle and chest in the living room. They're ugly, the gold clashes with the decor, nobody cares how good you were at something that was three decades ago, and quite frankly I think I've proved that I deserve them far more than you do anyway, so if they're not gone by Monday, I'll be etching my name over yours, understand?"

"You're taking this too far, Betty," he told her, "You may have won a couple scuffles, but I'm still the man of the house."

"Jim," she told him, using the voice she used to scold their son before she was sure he actually knew what he was doing, "In 23 years of marriage, one year of engagement, and three years of dating, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say and I never want to hear anything like it again, you hear?" She asked, then patted him politely on the cheek, "Now get to it."

As her husband stepped back, she looked back at their son, staring at her, "What are you looking at? Laundry, James, NOW."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully - Or, rather, extremely eventfully, if one considered the event to be someone else doing the housework for a change and the two males casting occasional glances at her legs when they thought she wasn't watching - Until around three, when her son's friends came to the door. As usual, they let themselves in, tracking their muddy shoes over the wood floors as they stampeded in the way that 18-year olds do down to the basement to play some too-loud videogames or whatever it was that absorbed them. It was something she just had to put up with, she supposed.

Or rather, she USED to have to put up with. After all, it occurred to her, why should she still deal with that anymore? She stared at the mess on the floor for a moment, before calling out her son's name.

"JAAAAMES!"

"JUST A MINUTE MOM!" He yelled back. Unfortunately for him, she was not in a 'just a minute' mood. She stood up from her chair and walked to the door to the basement staircase.

"NOW, James!" She yelled down.

"WE'RE FINISHING SOMETHING, MOM!" He yelled back. That answer wasn't enough for her, and she walked down the stairs and saw her son's friends gathered around the computer.

"James Michael Washington Junior, I did not say finish what you're doing. When I ask for your attention, I expect to get it, not get told to wait. I've been trying to get you to pay attention when I talk for 18 years, now get up, and go wipe up the mud that these baboons dragged in before I do to you what I did to your father."

Three faces pale from surprise and one red from embarrassment looked back at her from around the computer. None of them spoke for a moment, but she was sure that she'd made her point and turned her back to walk back up the stairs. Then she heard one speak.

"Dude," one of the young men said, "What's got into your mom."

"Itsnothing" her son muttered.

"That's not nothing, dude," another one answered.

"Come on, guys," he started, "at least wait until she's gone before talking like that."

"Oh, no, I want to hear," she turned back, "I want to hear what you're going to tell them. Come on, James, don't you want your friends to know what's 'gotten into me?' Don't you think they deserve an answer about why I'm asking like this?" She asked, and started back down towards the group, "Don't you want to tell them about what happened last night when you came home late? Or what I heard the night before after you walked in on me and your father?" She got up close to the group, an inch away from him, "Or maybe you want to tell them that the only reason I'm NOT pulling you between my legs and making you cry like a baby is that even I have enough standards to not want you to cum in your pants in front of your best friends, shouldn't you tell them THAT, James?!" She asked, reaching out and grabbing his bulge at the same time.

He didn't answer. She was pretty certain he couldn't, based on the pressure against her palm. She smirked, "That's what I thought." She said and looked to the others as she felt him starting to go limp in more ways than one.

"It's nice to see you, by the way, I'll leave money for pizza out on the table, just try to remember to take your shoes off in the future, okay?" She asked.

"Y-yes ma'am..." Came the answer as she turned away. As she walked back up the stairs, she heard.

"Holy shit, that was crazy..."

"Dude, did Jay's mom just make him piss himself?"

"I don't think that's piss, dude."

She looked at the mess on her hand. It wasn't.

Neither her husband nor her son spoke to her for the next few hours. Her son was, of course, busy with his friends and she was fine with that, at least once he'd cleaned up the mess they'd stomped into the house. As for her husband, well, she put that down to him being too intimidated to talk to her at this point. 'As he should be,' she reminded herself. She took a seat on the reclining chair in the living room, (usually his chair, but she figured if he wanted it, he could fight her for it,) and relaxed. She leaned back, pulling on the chair's lever to pop up the footrest, and smiled to herself, looking down at her thighs and calves, and reached down to slowly rub her index finger over the muscles.

"Betty," her husband spoke as he walked in, and stopped for a second noticing she was sitting in his favored chair.

"Yes, dear, what is it?" She asked, smiling politely up at him.

"Betty, I heard how you were talking to Jay earlier, and look, I understand you're on this power kick of yours or whatever it is, and that's fine and everything, but it's one thing to get a bit pushy and commanding or whatever, and it's quite another to outright emasculate him in front of his friends like that."

"Would you rather I was emasculating you instead?" She asked.

"You know that ain't what I mean, Betty," he answered, "What I'm saying is that the way you just treated our son was out of line."

She shook her head, and pulled the lever to let herself stand back up out of the chair, "Jim, please. I think I've already shown that I decide what is and is out of line in this house these days, not you."

He sighed, "Betty, I'll admit ya beat me. I didn't know you knew the first thing about wrestling so I wasn't ready for any of that, but I'm man enough to admit when I lose, but you gotta stop acting like bein' able to take me by surprise in a wrestling match means that you're the boss of me. And my son. Just means you took me by surprise, and I'll put up with whatever for now, but you need to back off this behavior of yours, it's just not right."

"Not right?" She asked, "I decide what's right and wrong in this house too, now, Jim, I thought I proved the point there yesterday.

"What you PROVED, Betty," he countered, "Was that you got big legs and you know how to wrestle. You think that when I was in college I went into matches in my underwear or my street clothes? Shit, I woulda got whipped dressed like that back then, too. I didn't even know I was gonna have a match for the entire day, I wasn't stretched or prepared or anything, and like I said, I didn't know you even knew the first thing about grappling. Good on you for managing to put up a good showing on short notice and all, but those weren't fair proper fights."

"So what are you saying, Jim?" She asked, "That if you had time to get ready for the match, I couldn't have done that to you?"

"Well," he started, trailed off, then looked up to meet her stare, "Well, as a matter of fact, Betty, I think I am sayin' that."

"Alright then, Jim," She answered, "That's fine. I'll give you time to prepare. Do whatever ritual it is you wrestlers do to get ready for a match, and then tomorrow, I'll put you in your place again. But I don't want any excuses after I win this time, alright?"

"Yeah, no excuses," he answered, "From you either."

"I won't need to make any." She told him, before heading off to bed.

She didn't push him or assign chores in the morning. Not because she didn't think that she should, she just wanted to make sure he got any chance to train he needed. She was tempted to follow him around for the day, try to get in his head, but she held back from that temptation. She wanted to be sure that her husband wouldn't have any excuses that night. She even laid off on their son, just in case whatever it was he thought he needed to do to get ready for a match included the kid. She wanted to make sure that he had every possible advantage he could ask for when the time came. Twice now she'd destroyed him, and twice he'd acted like it was nothing, so this time, there could be no excuse for his defeat. When she crushed him, it would be because she was better, and she'd do it hard enough that even he couldn't try to argue otherwise.

She didn't go out of the way much for her own preparation. As far as she was concerned, she didn't need to. Maybe if he'd been on her level - Hell, anywhere CLOSE to her level - before she might have done some planning, but the way she saw things, it would be on him to prove he had a chance. Rather than worry about whether or not she could win, she got on her bike and rode the three miles to the mall to pick out some nice lingerie that would show off her powerful thighs. On the way into the house, she stepped over some Amazon package with her husband's name, and wondered what was in it.

She got her answer that evening, as she waited in the living room for her husband to descend the stairs, and saw that he'd had found himself a new singlet, properly sized since his college one would likely have ripped right now. She was in her new outfit as well and crossed her black silk clad legs when she saw him.

"Hell, Jim," she said, standing and approaching him, noticing their son standing in the corner when she did, "Are you ready for your defeat?"

"I'm ready to stop your nonsense domination fantasies if that's what you're asking," he answered.

"Alright, then, let's be-"

But this time she was the one unable to finish a sentence, as she heard someone fiddling with the door. She could hardly go to another room, and both she and her husband froze. After a few more seconds, James's friends piled in (although, she noticed, they had removed their shoes on the step.

For the first time in a few days, she blushed "JAMES!" She snapped at her son, "You didn't warn me your friends were coming! Look at how I'm dressed!"

"I didn't-" He started, but Nate, the apparent leader, cut him off.

"We're not here for him, Mrs. W, we're here for you."

"Yeah," Jackie, the lone girl of the group continued, "We heard you saying you were gonna wrestle Jay's dad today and wanted to come cheer you on."

"You want to WATCH?" She asked.

"You're on HER side?!" James yelled at the same time.

"Yeah, dude," Mike answered, "Sorry, man, your mom's hot."

"DUDE!" James yelled, "Don't talk about my mom like that!"

"Then don't have such a hot mom," Nate answered, then smiled at her, "No offense, ma'am," he added.

"Oh, none taken," she laughed, "By all means, take a seat. You're welcome to stay."

"They are?" Her husband asked.

"As far as I'm concerned they are," she answered, "Why, are you worried they'll see you lose?"

"No," he answered, "I just don't want my kid's friends staring at my wife dressed like that!"

"Then outwrestle me, cover me, and pull me away from them. I say they can stay, and if you have a problem with it, you change things."

He practically growled at her for that, but he couldn't find another answer, so he just shrugged. "Alright, Betty, have it your way, if you want them to see your husband kick your ass, that's fine by me."

"I don't," she answered, "But I'm not worried. They won't."

They carefully locked up with each other, not suddenly like the first time or with her reaching out to grasp him like in their rematch, this was to be a proper battle, and it required a proper lead-in. There was an audience here this time, and not just the unintended one of the first night, so she wanted to have a little bit of showmanship and let everyone see her power before she destroyed the man with her legs. She felt the muscles of his arms and shoulders tighten, his whole body did in fact, and he stepped forward to start to push her back. She would admit, he was stronger than he had been the first time, his point about needing preparation and to limber up wasn't entirely nonsense defensiveness and excuses, but it still wouldn't be a match for her power. Just like him, she had been getting ready, if only mentally, and thinking about what she would need to do to make sure he didn't have a chance. Of course, it was hardly the most deep and complex of strategies, just 'Use her legs,' but she still took a bit of time to think about how to use them, and unlike their first match, she knew to tense them to stand still from the very first. She could see a look of surprise on his face at his inability to even make her budge, and a small part of her felt a little bit insulted (Seriously? How did he not expect this after TWO beatings) but a much larger part was glad he was still shocked, because it meant that she could have so much more fun dominating him and showing him just how useless his body was next to hers. She felt him try to push harder, the same ramping up of intensity he'd used on the first night, but once again, it was useless in comparison to her.