Tennis Star

I knelt in front of my family, disgraced and defeated. I was still wearing my tennis outfit of tiny shorts and a t-shirt with tiny sleeves as well. This outfit was not a convention in my family but I was allowed, only and only to play tennis.
“Now you have two choices Sania, either take admission in an engineering college, or get married. What’s it gonna be?” my father said saddened.
I remained silent.
“I think marriage would be a better option. She has become a degenerate. Wearing such short clothes in front of boys. I was always against it. I knew this girl will never amount to much, but nobody listens to me.”
My mother was always against my playing tennis, mainly because of the clothes I had to wear. I had to face many scoldings and ear pullings to get through. However my father was always helpful. He taught me tennis and even got me a proper coach, he fought with mother many times on the issue, but was determined to make me a professional player for India. I had let him down by losing a very important qualifying match which would have got me into something serious.
“this was your only shot.” Father said now more angrily.
“please can I have another chance?” I said the first words after my match. I hadn’t spoken a word after losing. My father brought me straight home and made me stand in front of everyone for verdict. I knelt on my own to show humility and looked down.
“see, she wants another chance, she is out of our hands now. I say marry her off right now.” Mother said.
The idea of getting married at 16 horrified me. And so did engineering.
“I told you before also Sania. Champions are not made like this. I wanted you to get coaching from Prakash Kumar, but you refused because he was a very hard man. And you chose an easy one. Good things don’t come easy.” Father was scolding now.
He was right. I had chosen a coach who took classes for lesser hours and also was not very strict. On the other hand, when my father took me to look at Prakash Kumar, I saw a girl doing push-ups as punishment. That frightened me and I told father not to get me admission here. I had taken an easier coach and now the very girl who had beaten me was Prakash’s student.
I held my ears now and looked to the floor. ”Sorry I didn’t listen, please father, one more chance, this time I will take classes from Prakash Kumar.” I kept holding my ears.
“no, there is no way you are going to play again.” Mother said.
“if I lose again then you can marry me, I promise.” I was still holding ears.
Father looked me into the eyes and I knew I had one more.
“right now make her murga for losing.” Added my younger sister.
I glared at her and she looked down.
 Two days later, I am in the coaching of Prakash kumar. i am serving a punishment from him, murga. I could not believe this at first as for girls it is very rare, and at this age, impossible. But my father’s words rang in my ears,” champions are not made easily.” And I assumed the position. I guess if I haven’t I would have been thrown out, and I certainly didn’t want that since its my last chance.
It was really easy to get in the position in these short clothes. But after a while it was agony. My shorts had come up very close to my butt, and I think the line between the thighs and butt was showing now. But I didn’t worry. Let it be. If this is what required to become a champion; I will take it.
I hear some laughter. There are some boys at my back laughing at me. I try to ignore. They come closer, their giggling has increased. I do not even wriggle my butt, remaining petrified.
“what good legs, what good view.” One of them says. I don’t know how many boys are there.
Then one of them puts a finger on the border of my butt and thigh. I wriggle my butt now. But I don’t stop seizing my ears, because that will make me a champion. I have heard of many stories where great people were made fun of and had to face many difficulties. These are my difficulties and I will face them.
“oye! What are you doing there!!” I hear prakash’s voice. The boys run away. I keep doing my punishment.
 My punishment lasted for more than 20 minutes. By now my legs had completely cramped. It was difficult even to stand up. I stood up and straight up I was made to do some practice of hitting the ball. My legs were paining from murga punishment and I could not move very fast to hit every ball that was coming from the machine. In all I missed around 5 of the 20 balls that had come.
“Pathetic performance,” Prakash said.
“My legs are paining from the murga punishment,” I said to him.
“I want you to give me 100 uthak baithaks now, holding your ears,” Prakash sentenced.
I was flabbergasted. “But I just completed one punishment!”
“start the uthak baithaks before I increase your number.” His tone suggested he meant every word and I had to do as he said.
I held my ears and started squatting when he asked me to count loudly.
“one,” I said when my buttocks met my calves.
“louder, I want everyone to hear your voice.”
“TWO!” I said more loudly as I squatted the second time.
Then he called another girl, who was also his student to keep an eye on me, so that I did complete squats and full 100.
That girl, Ritu, stood right in front of me and started watching.
Then she started to point her racket to me, lowering it as I went down and raising it as I went up. It was like she was making me do the uthak baithaks.
My shorts as usual came up to my buttocks. But these small clothes were making me do uthak baithaks easily. I had done uthak baithaks many times in school and at home. I were usually in shalwar kameez or tights at home or skirt in school. But doing uthak baithak in shorts was way more easier.
“seventy nine……… eighty……eighty one….” I continued my uthak baithaks.
“what!! You still haven’t finished. Speed up, or I will increase your number.” Prakash said when he returned.
I sped up my action. My legs were breaking apart. My body was sweating profusely. When I finished my punishment, Prakash gave me a 5 minute break. I took a towel and wiped my face, arms and legs. Due to sweat my body had become sticky now. It always does. I sat down and stretched my legs. My legs had taken a lot today. Only the second day of training with Prakash and my legs had seen the worst.
After my 5 minutes of break, all students were gathered for some exercises to make the body more agile and powerful. He made us do stretches and some regular exercises which I believe had no benefits. But I did them. Again it was so easy and comfy to do them in these short clothes.
Then it was off. I reached home with exhauted body. My skin was still sticky with sweat, as my skin was oily.
I went up to my room. In my room I had posters of all the great tennis stars. They were my inspiration. I looked at most of them and wondered whether they also had to go through such things. Did or not, I had to.
The next day I was given yet another punishment. I was made to jump around the whole ground with my hands pointing straight ahead. Of course it was a body killing punishment. I had to complete 2 rounds. After the first round I was about to faint but managed it in the end.i could see many men and boys ogling at me while doing my punishment. Obviously I had a hot body and when wearing such short clothes and sweating just was icing on the cake. Men ogling were usually the sweepers and janitors. Boys were the ones who also took coaching from prakash.
Three years later im playing the Wimbledon doubles. All those punishments, hardships faced have come to make me what I am today. A sexy tennis player. The best india has seen so far.
The end.