After several months in the special forces, Amy was given a week’s leave. On her way home, she was as excited to see her family as they were her. Writing ahead of her arrival, her mother and father explained (and apologised) that they couldn’t be there to greet her, but that her younger brother, Matt and sister, Brooke, would be. 

"Hey, where did you get that car?" Matt asked, after the happy reunion.

"I’ve just bought it," she explained, "at the showroom in the town."

"Blimey, they only sell new cars! They must pay you well!" Matt exclaimed as they went indoors.

"Well, yes, they do. Plus, there’s the not so glamorous part that where they’ve been sending us, there’s nowhere to spend any money. Whatever you get paid, it’s all saved. You have your rations – such as they are – and you’re expected to eat off the land where you can. Sometimes there’s prize money, too, if you capture something valuable."

"It does sound exciting!" Brooke gushed.

"It is, but it’s also acutely dangerous – sometimes when you least expect it. True, they issue us with firearms; but ultimately you have to rely on your own strength."

"Is it true that you’re only admitted once you prove yourself in a fight with one of the soldiers?"

"Yes."

"And you beat her?"

"Him. Yes, I did."

"How did you beat him?"

"Well, I softened him up in all ways, some conventional, others less so. But the real victors were good old reliable women’s legs. I choked him into passing out, using head scissors, and finished him off with a standing head scissor. No man can survive one of those!"

"How can you win, just by using your legs?" Matt asked, subdued after all the talk of a woman defeating a man.

"I’ll show you," Amy told him, standing up to take her trousers off, and displaying her mighty leg muscles.

"Do you need a licence for those?" Matt asked, putting in a claim to be the family comedian.

"Actually, we’re recruiting at the moment, if one of you fancies it," Amy informed them, ignoring the budding comic genius.

"That should be me," claimed Matt.

"Why?" Brooked demanded indignantly.

"Because I’m a year older than you, and – though you won’t like me saying it – I’m male."

"Not at all," Amy corrected him firmly. There’s no bar to sex any more. It’s all decided on merit. As for age, as they see it, Brooke at 19 has a year longer to serve than you at 20."

"I’m just as good a fighter as him!" Brooke added, "I’ve beaten him loads of times."

"You have NOT!" Matt protested.

"Whoa, calm down both of you!" Amy laughed. We’ll settle it in the ring. As a matter of fact, I’ve brought you a (sort of) uniform leotard, Brooke. You can wear that in the ring. You’ll look great in it, I know. It’s cut low over the cleavage, which is calculated to distract any man (apart from your brother)."

"I’ll bring my shorts," Matt added.

"No you won’t, men have to fight naked," Amy corrected him for the second time, much to Brooke’s amusement and his disgust.

****

"Okay," declared Amy, once they were in the ring. "Fight."

Brooke stood an inch or two shorter than Matt, but that didn’t seem to concern her, and she met his glare with one of her own. They raised their fists and circled, each looking for an opening. Brooke tried a kick to the balls, but he swayed to the side of it.

"That’s all women ever do," he sneered.

"Well, it was worth a try," she justified her attempt.

He flashed at her with a left cross, but she managed to dodge it. She replied with one of her own, but he leant back out of the way. She warded off a huge super kick, so that it hit the air about four inches above her head, and he had to hop to stay on his feet. He tried again, with a flatter attempt, but she arched her body back, and got in a vicious kick of her own, scoring a bullseye with his balls this time. 

"Yes, it was definitely worth a try!" Brooke crowed.

Matt groaned and bent forward, clutching his balls and presenting his head to her as if it was saying, "Lock me". She accepted. She pulled him about by his head, then his ears, but he used his crouching position to scoop her up with his left arm between her legs and his right over her left shoulder. Dropping to one knee to steady himself, he raised her, surprised and protesting, onto his shoulders. She thought she was in for a huge slam, but instead he dropped her with a painful thud onto the mat on her back, pinning her with his legs.  

Amy peered and squinted at the confusing mass of limbs on the mat, as each combatant struggled to gain an advantage. There was panting and muffled curses and insults too, the result of a sibling rivalry dating back to early childhood. Each one had a hand on the face or head of the other, pushing to try to release the hold of the opponent. 

Brooke tried to put Matt in a head scissor, but she wasn’t in the best position, on her back below him. True, she had him bent double, but she was nowhere near choking him as her sister had just described to them. On the other hand, she was well placed to impose a triangle choke on him. She dragged his left arm through her upturned legs and locked her ankles behind his neck. Pulling him towards her by his arm and her legs around his neck, she also pushed him back, using her bottom against his stomach, placing a strain on his whole upper body.

Brooke allowed herself a brief smile at Matt’s suffering, before swapping his arms. She grabbed his right one through her legs and forsook the triangle choke for an armbar. She knew to weaken a man’s arms first and judged she had done enough to the left one for the time being. Lying to the side of him, she hauled his arm by his wrist, until his shoulder joint was scorching. 

From her position, she raised her right foot.  Matt, sensing what she would do, put his hand over his manhood to protect it. No matter, she brought her foot down hard. His hand may have protected his balls to a certain extent, but it’s not as if she didn’t hurt that as well. Hearing him cry out, she did it again. Twice.

She switched to his left arm, for an orthodox armbar. It was a waste to be fighting her brother in a way, because any other man would have been tormented by her holding his hand so that it hovered over her breasts. On the other hand, she still had a fight to win, and she soon had this shoulder joint burning in the same way as the other one. 

But Brooke was impatient to get onto the next hold. Looking to head lock him with her right arm encasing his neck, Matt blunted its effect by warding her off with both hands. She evidently hadn’t weakened his arms enough. He counterattacked by putting her in a choke with his left arm and keeping her in place by sweeping his left leg over her body. 

Once again, the pair of them struggled and cursed, eager to free themselves while keeping their hold of the other, until Matt prevailed. He turned above her and pinned her by her wrists. She tried to push against it with her feet on the mat, but it was pointless. His grip on her wrists tightened until she cried out. He sat on her middle for a full body pin, and stretched her arms, crossing them over at her hands. She was shouting in pain and fear, accepting defeat in that fall. 

Matt knelt beside her and celebrated. Then he walked over to Amy, standing just outside the ropes, to accept her congratulations, while his younger sister remained on her back, bitter at her loss. Very bitter. Just look at the egotistical oaf, lapping up his self-praise! Hang on, though. Wasn’t this supposed to be a fight to be considered for the special forces? There were no formal rules in those fights, surely?

Brooke got silently to her feet. She didn’t see (or ignored) Amy’s restraining gesture, and let her brother have a full-on kick to the balls from behind. It was his turn to yell again. Brooke may still have had tears of defeat on her face, but her grim look of determination told anyone that she was still very much in this fight. Moreover, she had stolen the initiative.

She jumped on his back, hands around his face and neck in a sleeper, and body scissoring him to force him down. He struggled valiantly to stay on his feet, but given his agonising balls, and his determined sister on his back, it was inevitable that he would eventually drop.

Once down, she relinquished the body scissor and concentrated on the sleeper. It worked! True, Matt was out of breath from the shock her kick had given him, plus his efforts to stay on his feet. Even so, she had seen the sleeper used on TV and live matches, but this was the first time she had used it to make an opponent pass out. 

She held his unconscious head up like a trophy. Then, when he regained consciousness, she let him drop, to choke him with her left arm while locking his right arm behind him in the crook of her right arm. 

"You’re strangling me!" Matt weakly protested.

She let go, but he used the respite to try to force her off him, arching his back. She clung on, determined to retain the upper hand. The pair of them became top heavy and they tumbled down to the mat, once again struggling for supremacy. Matt disentangled himself, and looked to pin Brooke, seizing her right wrist, but she swiftly brought her knees up to his chest to ward him off. At the same time, she dragged him towards her with her left hand behind his neck, in an improvised hold. 

Breaking off to look for another opportunity, Matt got a stinger of a kick to his chin from Brooke on her side. He fell away but sprang to his feet, while she leapt to hers. The pair of them faced off again, glaring at each other, bitter rivals.

Matt lofted a huge left cross at her, but she drew herself back beyond reach of it. He fired a high left kick, but she deflected it with her left knee (bruising his shin for good measure). He ducked under a high right kick from her, then tried a reply with a complicated combination of left kick and punch, both of which she managed to block by banging him back from her with her trusty left knee. 

Then Matt managed a breakthrough. He swept on an attempted right kick to seize her leg and make her lose balance. She fell onto her back and he grabbed her shoulders, glowering with vengeful purpose. 

But he played the moment for more than it was worth. Instead of quickly cementing his victory, he wasted time in triumphalist phrases like, "Now I’ve got you". He lost concentration, and Brooke exploited the lapse instantly. She shot up to her knees and gripped him, right arm around his waist, left arm around his right leg. He contested her counterattack for a few moments, wobbling on his feet, but with a mighty swing of their two bodies, she brought him down on his back.

She sprang across him like a cat, trapping his left arm in her legs. Grabbing his right wrist in her right hand, to render that arm useless, she grasped his cock and balls mercilessly with her left hand. Matt shrieked as she crunched his balls. 

She moved to a reverse head scissor. Matt was so delirious with pain, he couldn’t oppose it, even though it meant his arms were suddenly free. Still she punished his cock, while she engulfed his face with her nether regions, stifling him. You may argue that it wasn’t a sisterly act; but Brooke was focused on winning, and by this stage of the fight, the end justified the means. 

Matt’s wailing was hardly audible as she squatted over his face and pulled him up by his hair with her free hand, while continuing to punish his balls. He couldn’t last much longer, and she knew it. 

Brooke knelt on his stomach. With her left hand choking him, and her right still torturing his defeated manhood, she demanded his submission. His whimper of agreement was so faint that Amy sensed it rather than heard it. But Brooke heard it all right! She had beaten her longstanding rival. He lay flat on his back, played out, while she now posed over him, one foot on his manhood. Never again would he dare to play the part of the superior, senior male. She was the one eligible to apply to join the special forces, while he got to stay at home and wash the dishes.

Amy was delighted. She had wanted her sister to win, and joined her in the ring to celebrate the victory, while acknowledging that the fight had been back and forth to the very end.