Free Badger Games by Jon A. Jackson Page B

premise was modified. The modifier was Helen.
    Sometimes he thought it had started with being shot in the head. He’d been a little confused afterward; it was no simple thing to say “I am.” He felt he’d succeeded. But then he began to think that the complications had begun even earlier, when he’d met Helen. He’d been a fairly simple person up until then. Now he wrestled.
    They wrestled. It always ended with grappling. It might start with a workout in the gymnasium in the basement of her late father’s mansion—the weights, the fancy machines, or just intense aerobic exercises—or it might be a grueling game of racquetball. They were well matched: what Helen gave up in power she gained in mobility. Joe had incredible stamina, however, now that he had regained his physical fitness. He could wear her down. But whatever they played at was only a prelude to wrestling.
    Neither of them were particularly skilled at wrestling. They both had some experience with tae kwon do, but that isn’t wrestling. What they liked was the physical contact. They tried different holds,writhing their slick, naked bodies against each other like snakes—it was difficult to tell where one left off and the other began.
    They were superficially similar physically, although Joe was an inch or two taller and more heavily muscled. But to others they seemed like brother and sister, fraternal twins, perhaps. Helen was very fit, with almost no bosom and slim, boyish hips. She had a heart-shaped face with a great volume of black hair. Joe’s facial features were heavier, but like hers strong and handsome, with a well-defined nose, a firm mouth, and sensual lips. They were both of an age, about thirty.
    The wrestling started casually, as if they were panther cubs, tussling. It would get more intense, sometimes becoming quite serious, as with their utmost energies and strengths employed, each gained a position of superiority at least briefly. But it always ended the same way—with sexual penetration.
    Without ever discussing it they had arrived at a commonly held conceit: that they shared a phallus. This notion stemmed from Helen’s gradually acquired ability to seemingly relax her large muscles, to submit to Joe’s driving force, only to contract her vaginal muscles so as to grasp his member so firmly that when she drove her buttocks back into his groin he actually experienced a kind of penetration of himself. It was a sensation that initially surprised, even shocked them, but which they had both come to enjoy.
    On this occasion, however, he had wrestled her into a facedown position and had pinned her arms behind her. They were on a thin mat beside the pool in the dim light. She groaned quietly, struggling, expecting him to enter her now, but when she thrust her buttocks upward he did not allow her to gain her knees, but lay along her back, forcing her into the mat. His right arm encircled her neck. He tightened his grip, choking her.
    She waited, sensing something a bit different. It was always different, of course. No sexual act could be precisely reenacted. Butthis was different yet. He pressed her brutally against the thin mat. She couldn’t breathe well. She struggled now, but he only tightened the crook of his arm across her throat and forced her face more firmly into the mat. She tried, in a panic, to free her arms, but his grip was fierce and the pressure of his body further restrained her arms.
    â€œMmmf!” She grunted, but it was muffled. She felt an awakening fear. This was going much farther than she liked. Then suddenly he seemed lighter. He didn’t release her but he braced himself with his elbows and knees, relieving the weight and easing the pressure on her head and her neck. She turned her head to the left and gasped.
    â€œWhat are you doing!”
    â€œKilling you,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, panting from the exertion.
    â€œWhy?
    â€œThey want me