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From: "Wendy Cries" <sh.cries@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Ariel: After the Dance - by shecries (Exhib, Mf, Fm, mmmf, humil) 6/7
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Date: Wed, 11 Apr 2007 11:10:03 -0400
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feedback, criticism, comments, and special requests are always welcome at
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http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/she_cries/www/

Ariel:  After the Dance - part vi
(Exhib, Mf, Fm, mmmf, humil, nerdsex,jocksex, teacher)

by she cries

     It was nearly seven-thirty when I woke up, Eric curled up at my
breast.  I had school in an hour; so did Eric, but little time left to get
to the bus.  There would be no parent to drive me if I missed it, and as
much as I didn't want to go, the realization that it was my !brother! curled
up in my arms, nuzzled against my bare breasts, leaking out of my sex left
me with one desire, which was to get the Hell out.
     No, the tenderness and affection I felt for Eric was as strong as
ever.  I couldn't claim any delusion of the night before, and made no
attempt to act as if there had been one.  I was perfectly myself when I had
taken Eric into my loins, and could only find pleasure, rapture, and perfect
joy in the memory of our union.  There's just something about waking up in
the cold light of early morning to the realization that you'd spent the
night before getting speared by your pimple-faced geek brother and how
incredibly, universally gross that is.  I could run through school dropping
to my hands and knees for every jock on campus yet it would pale before even
a rumor that I had lain with my own sibling, three years younger than me.
     Now here was a point where going against the pack was certainly not a
virtue.
     But even as I stood there kicking myself for having stooped to yet
another low my eyes fell across Eric a warm sensation seemed to reach up
from behind and embrace me.  Only this was not the soft, affectionate,
caring feeling that had always made me so protective of my little sibling,
but the broiling heat of arousal.  Whatever emotional peak I had found last
night my body apparently liked and indicated with crude, primal sparks that
it was hungry for more.  Indeed, the thought of mounting my brother, laying
there with his early morning hard-on barely concealed by a fold in my sheets
gave me trembles so bad that I thought I'd not be able to walk were I not to
climb atop him.
     But between morning fatigue, and a halacious day of nearly nonstop sex
yesterday my body was clearly engaged in wishful thinking.  It would take a
lot more than weed or a little coke to get me easy enough to spread my tired
legs around a man today, though evidently my body chemistry hadn't been
updated to my physical change in status, which sucked mightily, let me tell
you.
     So instead of boning my brother I went through my room for the third
time looking for underwear, rejecting out of hand the idea of strapping on
another of Eric's shorts as I'd lost the last one in the security office at
the mall.  I finally turned up with a satiny 'wedding white' pair that
appeared designed to project a flat, horizontal plane across a woman's
dimensions.  Unfortunately it also appeared to be designed for women who
wore the new fashion in extreme low-cut pant.  In actuality it was because
when I bought these panties they covered my ass and front with complete
modesty because I was in fact ten years old.  They'd been sitting in the
back of my drawer for a year because it when I started menstruating at
thirteen I discovered the virtue of wearing underwear for occasions that
didn't involve camping trips with school.
     But what hardened my resolve to wear them was the fact that this was
that they actually covered my pubic bush, and when I saw a handful of strays
sticking out I went to the bathroom and butched myself down to a quarter
inch of fuzz so my underwear would at least do what it's supposed to, and
cover me.
     I grumbled about Carl having my only non skin-tight pair of pants
because the way I felt down below made the idea of slipping into a pair of
jeans that I seemed to outgrow weeks after I got them made my groin pulse in
apprehension.
     Of course, I reasoned, I'd worn a skirt to the dance and been molested
twice.  I'd worn pants to the mall and had done five guys all told, so there
wasn't too compelling an argument for wearing pants except that it might
give me time to have second thoughts the next time I completely lost
control, but that was a pretty flimsy argument at any rate.
     Fuck-it, I thought as I stepped into the patented Catholic schoolgirl's
skirt, dark-green plaid, mid-thigh, with safety-pins and lighter caps around
the edges (do you not know what 'caps' are?  Know now that you are and ever
will be a poseur if you even consider that you might be subculture).  I
figured they'd come after me if I were wearing a chastity belt that exploded
on contact, so there was no point in playing modest.
     I opted to wear Muffy's red bra again, which fit better now that I took
the time to adjust the shoulder straps (how did my tits get so big).  Over
that I pulled a white Descendant's T-shirt which, though the sleeves were
cut off, was much more tactfully done, and the only thing you could see
through the armhole was part of the bra strap.
     Ad to that my mini 'nazi jacket' as the kids at school liked to call my
mom's old air force waistcoat from when she'd served in the 80s.  It was a
dark blue concoction that ended at the waist in a buckle and went up around
the neck in a collection of lapels and pockets that I absolutely never used
for anything.
     I glanced at the time, leaned over my brother, and when I went to shake
him, I instead leaned down and planted a kiss, right on the mouth.
     "Shit Ariel," Eric grumbled half-awake, "Careful with that thing." And
he rolled over, burying his head in the sheets, but baring his ass to me in
the process.
     It really wasn't that bad of an ass by twelve year-old standards.  It
was in fact pretty much the same as what I had padding out my backside, if a
tiny bit leaner and more muscular.
     That's your brother's ass, a voice pestered from within, as if I wasn't
already aware of that fact.  I climbed onto bed and pulled the sheets back,
baring Eric completely while he struggled sleepily with me, then suddenly he
woke up and made a mad dash for the sheets to cover himself when he noticed
me, straddling him, and made a serious effort to quell his automatic
reaction.
     "Hey Ari."  He said after he was a little calmed down.  He must have
been aware of the proximity of my sex to his cock, which were, in fact,
slammed against each other.
     "Hey bro."
     "Did we really..." Eric didn't seem to want to say it.  So I did.  I
looked him straight in the eye and as seriously and sternly as I could say
it I told him,
     "Did we fuck our brains out?  Yup."
     A grin broke across his face, "Cool."
     It was contagious, and before I knew it I was down on top of him,
kissing him heavily and grinding my aching sex into him as the pain and
soreness waned in the light of my growing arousal (well, maybe I wanted to
want to have sex, so i just don't remember the ache as much as I should).
     "Hang on," I said, stumbling off the bed long enough to strip off my
panties and then, hiking up my skirt I found myself lowering myself onto my
brother for our third incursion into the sick, demented world of incest.
     The first insertion hurt a bit, but the overall heat of having Eric
inside me was enough to make the sex worth enduring the pain for and it
wasn't long before I was working to find a rhythm, figuring out the best
ways to spot my legs as I mounted my little brother and he watched me, his
sister, moaning and groaning as the pleasure built up, the way I had done
with him last night.
     I shifted my weight, and had to wince as something flared up, just for
a second, but was back, fucking in earnest, trying to find that orgasm that
Eric has stopped last night.
     "Are you okay?" Eric asked.
     "Mmm-hmmm." I moaned, bucking harder.
     "Does it feel good?"
     "It feels real good, little bro." I groaned, scrunching up my eyes as
the pleasure continued to build.
     Eric kissed me, pressing hard, letting his tongue run over my lips and
teeth while I simply gasped, hanging over him, letting him satisfy me, ply
me with his endearments.
     "I love you." I mumbled, my breathing more urgent, the sensation more
imminent.
     "I love you too, Ariel." Eric said as he ran his hands eagerly over my
thighs.
     "I think I'm going to throw up." Mitch said as he walked into my
bedroom, Ronnie in tow.

     They could have asked for anything and gotten it.  It wasn't until much
later that I remembered how many BS rumors are spread at school, and how
though they may be used as schoolyard taunts, very few people, if anybody
takes them seriously.
     But the fact that this one was in fact true gave a sort of power over
my ability to reason as I negotiated for their silence.
     Ronnie's terms were amazingly simple-minded.  Clearly he'd been
obsessed with me since the dance, and his asinine bet, but I hadn't realized
just how compulsive the man was until he laid out his terms.  He could have
said, "blow jobs till I'm ninety" and I would have agreed.  He could have
ordered me to buy some Bebe clothes and get a perm and I'd have agreed.  But
all he'd wanted was me to proceed to stage three of the bet.  The part where
he got to fuck me.  Naturally I agreed.
     Mitch was much more ambitious, and though Ronnie argued that it didn't
matter, it was patently obvious to me that Mitch felt it was his due to
negotiate his own terms for his silence, which did involve blow jobs, but
only for the rest of the year, and, as he whispered to me when Ronnie wasn't
listening, to claim that I was the best fuck once the rest of the
conspirators had had their turn with me.
     They had arrived at my house to make sure I "didn't miss my bus to
school."  They had feared that I'd play hooky and come to make sure that I
didn't screw up my attendance record at school.
     The irony of finding out that they had not come out to my house last
night for fear that I'd ratted them out to the police failed to amuse me.
After all, it was fear of them that had led to my midnight dash across the
street, and ultimately to my humiliating exposure, fucking my little brother
(who looked too much like me for there to be any doubt), which ultimately
led to my capitulation to their demands, for the third and clinching final
time.
     Even after I relalized of the weakness of their threat, the truth of it
bore down so heavily on me that I simply couldn't bring myself to back out.
It was as if doing Ronnie, hell, all seven boys would serve as some kind of
penance for having sunk so low as to give myself to my little brother.
     Both boys found my actions repulsive.  Mitch had two sisters, one
older, one younger.  But neither seemed to think me too tainted to slaver
after their every need.
     I had persuaded Eric to split, as he would have been late for school
had he not.  I was not sorry to see him go, and for some reason, though
Mitch and Ronnie didn't hesitate to let Eric know what a sick fuck he was,
they didn't molest me or reveal their true intentions until he was gone.
     I knew there was little left for me to do but lay back and accept
Ronnie's "test," which, naturally, I failed having been so recently pulled
off of my brother as I rode to the crest of an orgasm.  Ronnie was much
smaller than Jerry, about the size of my brother, in fact, but there was
little pleasure in it for me as the football player merely threw me face
down on my bed, pulled up my skirt, drove his member inside me, and grunted
like a pig for a grueling ten minutes before ejaculating inside me, nearly
smothering me with his weight and pushing.
     Then, unwilling to allow Mitch to claim his first blowjob for fear we'd
be late, Ronnie dragged me downstairs, panty-less, and outside where he
stuffed me in the backseat of the tiny 80s Honda Accord he drove.  We were
off to school where I would no doubt find five more eager boys waiting to
treat me to the same kind of pleasure, all no doubt expecting me to beg for
more and become their slave for the remainder of the semester.  It was the
thought of Jerry claiming another turn on me that intimidated me the most.
Ronnie's intrusion had felt like stretching sore muscles, and I felt no
relief upon his extraction.  Jerry, I could only hope, was just as
apprehensive about entering me again, because if he was rough with me I
feared I might not ever recover.
     Once we were in the car Mitch took the time to reassure me that I need
not worry about my bare butt since the searches at the dance, in spite of
the controversy, had extended to a school-wide temporary suspension of the
dress code.  The only prohibition were vulgar language printed on clothes
and anything that violated state decency laws.  This meant, according to
Mitch, and Ronnie agreed, that there was no reason for me to wear so modest
an outfit.  Having discovered the short underskirt sewn into the pleated
schoolgirl skirt when he had lifted it to have his way with me, Ronnie
suggested that it was all I'd need.  I barely mouthed a protest as Mitch
used no little force to rip my cute little skirt to shreds until all that
covered me was a plaid variation of a micro-miniskirt.  I had to hold it
together with a single safety-pin that I was fortunately able to dig out of
my jacket since Mitch wouldn't give me back the excess from the skirt.
     Trying to stay covered seated in the car proved impossible.  The inner
skirt was neither pleated to fall between my legs when I sat, nor was it
long enough to cover me should I have to bend over, or uncross my legs.  It
also had a slit down the front, which served ordinarily to facilitate
movement while providing an extra layer of heat and modesty for a girl who
might be running around in the skirt.  In my case it parted miserably when I
sat, exposing my full sex.  Moving it around back pulled it open as even my
small butt exerted enough pressure to spread the part open whenever I'd have
to sit down, which meant flashing anyone lucky enough to be sitting behind
me in class.  I had to settle yet again for the side slit, as Mitch was
unrelenting before my pleas to have the full skirt back.  He tossed it out
the window as we drove, leaving me no alternative but to flash my hip and
advertise with every step I took that I wasn't wearing any panties.  I'd
have to spedn the whole day carrying a book in my right hand.
     Before letting me rebuild my scraps into a skirt, Mitch ordered me to
strip naked so I could begin my services to him "in style."  He took a very
short time to cum, and I was able to use his momentary rapture to divert the
stream of jizz from my mouth to the back of the car seat and was saved the
indignity of walking around with an Urban Whore makeover.  But Ronnie
insisted that I be better prepared for the big event, and wouldn't allow me
to replace my clothes but for the "nazi jacket," (Hadn't anyone ever told
these guys that nazi waistcoats were olive green like US ones were?).  I
found myself stepping out of Ronnie's car in slightly more above and
significantly less below than I had been wearing at the Dance on Friday.  I
was only just able to pocket the bra by stuffing it down inside the jacket
while Mitch wasn't looking.  Not that having a red strap broadstroked across
my bare sternum would be much better than buttoning the jacket up to my
neck.  Mitch and Ronnie didn't realize that the jacket was designed to do
that, so I left it hanging open, showing the insides of my tits so they
could see me humiliated.
     "All right, Ariel." Ronnie said, guiding me across the parking lot,
"You failed the third test, so you meet us at the creek, first lunch."
     First lunch?  That wasn't till fifth period, "I have a class." The
lunches were divided up predominantly by upper and lower classmen.
     "Cut it." He ordered me.
     Worse than the thought of actively cutting class to go get gangbanged
was the fact that during first lunch, many of the lower classmen,
intimidated by the mass of juniors and seniors actually hid out at the
creek, smoking, necking, doing whatever to get out of sight of older bullies
and the hall monitors.
     Worse still was the fact that I was facing a four hour wait for the
inevitable to happen.  Four hours of going from class to class in what
barely qualified as proper dress.  Perhaps I'd get lucky and Mrs. Dee would
send me to the vice-principle's office for dressing like a whore.
     But then, I thought, Ronnie and Mitch would tell everyone that they'd
found me riding my little brother's cock, exchanging platitudes of sibling
love.
     Then again, I'd also have four hours to plan.  Four hours to find a way
out of my fate.  Looking wistfully at the locker rooms which I wouldn't be
able to get at until I had PE in third period, I allowed the boys to lead me
on to campus.  They ditched me at my hall locker after a perfunctory scan to
make sure I didn't have any panties secreted away in there.  Of course I
didn't.
     But sticking in the vent on the small, square door I found a note from
Daria,
     "Gone till sixth.  SAT's.  Wish me luck, and call me damnit!"
     My only ally, I sighed.  Gone all day for testing at the local junior
college.  I was on my own.
     I only had a little time to get to my first class, Algebra with Mr.
Sharpe, but I was astonished to notice that I was not the only girl who had
embraced the new, and undoubtedly short-lived liberty in dress.  Everywhere
I looked I saw tube-tops, mini dresses, see through tops showing bras
underneath, and yes, a great number of thongs hiked up past the waistline as
if in protest to the indignities we had all suffered to get into the dance.
I only hoped that there was some penalty in it for Mrs. Dee, and a sub
rather than the loathsome woman who had stripped me bare on Friday would
teach second period.
     I got a few looks, and surprisingly, a few nods from girls who never
had talked to me, those who had chosen to dress down, as if expressing
solidarity with my daring choice.  How little they knew, but I smiled and
nodded back all the same.

     I had been dreading Mr. Sharpe's class, not just because I hated math
and was barley dressed, but because Rusty was in it, and the last time I had
seen him was after he had fingered me to orgasm, fucked me in the face, and
gotten the shit kicked out of himself by yours truly.  It hadn't taken much
to find out that his injuries at the dance were only superficial, most of
the pain was due to the ball-crushing I'd administered, but generally,
Muffy, Chelsea, and I didn't make very good shitkickers.
     Either that or Rusty and I shared some similar genetic superpowers,
because if I was still up and walking around after the past weekend's
abuses, Rusty should be leaping tall building in single bounds.  I buttoned
up the jacket tight.  All the way to the neck.
     I scanned the class, starting to fill up, and found a desk about
halfway to the back where I'd hopefully minimize attention to my legs and
what was, or rather wasn't underneath my skirt.  Rusty sat in the very back
row, which was why I hadn't gone all the way back.  He had dark circles
under one eye, the sister to that mark was on my right knuckle. He also
appeared to have a slightly swollen lip and a bruise on his neck, though it
was hard to tell under the dental headgear.  He eyed me with intent, but I
had little problem facing him down.
     I set my things down on the desk, and placing a careful hand over my
butt I confirmed my worst fear.  The skirt simply wouldn't cover me when I
went to sit down.  My hand certainly hadn't either, and when I made a
casual, scratching-my-chin-on-my-shoulder reconnoiter I found absolutely
every boy in the rows behind me, about ten freshmen and sophomores, staring
at me with combinations of embarrassment, shock, and blatant lust.
     Mr. Sharpe always took forever to get this class started, and he was
giving a brush up quiz on what we'd covered to date, so he was taking extra
time in his little glass office behind the chalkboard.  I stared at Mr.
Sharpe's foot tapping under the desk since you could only see from about
mid-chest down under the blackboard into his office which was really nothing
more than a plexiglass partition that used to be a window.
     I had to glare at the clock and pretend to ignore Martin Walsack who
accidentally dropped a bunch of pencils as he was passing my desk, as well
as Leonard Mills who had decided that sitting next to me he'd be able to see
the blackboard much better than being so far back.  Most of the girls in the
class had managed to transfer to other courses very early in the semester,
but up till now I had always felt the most comfortable among the floundering
geeks to whom I was a sort of the bad, rebel kid who they all looked up to.
At least I thought they envied my standoffish behavior toward the rest of
school while they wandered around with their heads hung low.
     Today was somewhat different.  While the girls hid their scowls of
disapproval (not many from the thong-without a cause crowd in Mr. Sharpe's
algebra), the boys re-evaluated their esteem for em and seemed to be
competing for my attention.
     But it was Rusty who really held the class in check.  Perhaps not a
genius, Rusty's predilection for numbers, number theory, sciences, physics,
and whatever were virtually unparalleled in this high school and many
others.  He had in fact already worked his way through the entire school
offering of mathematics and was taking calculus with the seniors.  He was
Mr. Sharpe's teacher's aide for yet another senior level class: Careers in
Education, though the thought of Rusty at the helm of a class of adolescent
young boys and girls made one squirm.  The only thing greater than Rusty's
gift with numbers was his arrogance, and complete failure to relate to other
people.  I could imagine how he'd plotted and schemed, calculating just how
to push Muffy's buttons to get her to play along at Friday's dance.
     Glancing back at him I recognized the expression.  It was smugness.  He
actually had a grin on.  It struck me then that getting the crap beat out of
him had all been part of his plan, or at least an acceptable loss for what
was in every sense a victory.  He had used me like no man before him had,
and spent his seed in my mouth while his friends had emptied their
virginities in Muffy's pliant crack.  With the odds against them ever
kissing a girl socially, a good beating must have seemed like a fair
trade-off, just as I'd traded off my dignity and modesty for a chance at
sexual pleasure a number of times in the past two days.
     He must have been reading my mind, because he got up just as it had
dawned on me that he felt no regret whatsoever for what had happened, and
pulled a desk alongside mine.  I didn't like these desks.  The table shot up
from a beam that hooked under the seat and there was no armrest along the
right side.  In this case it meant that Rusty could scoot right up against
me, and I'd have to pick another freshmen puptent to scoot alongside or
tolerate Rusty's presence.
     Mr. Sharpe was still working at his desk, but I figured it wouldn't be
too long, so I resolved to wait it out.
     "How's the eye, Rusty?"
     "Could have been worse," the boy responded, "I like the new look,
Ariel." And his hand descended on my bare thigh.
     "Move your hand you little weasel or you won't walk out here with it."
I grumbled through my teeth.
     He didn't move his hand, instead slipping it higher up, "Ariel, Ariel,
you were so much more cooperative Friday night." And he leaned in closer.  I
grabbed his hand, but as gangly as he was, I was skinnier still.  I could
only struggle to keep it from slipping under my skirt without causing a
scene (too much of a scene, that is).
     "Was that when I was knocking your lights out, or squeezing your nuts
off?"  I whispered as low as Rusty, not wanting to attract too much
attention to what had really happened.
     Rusty leaned in closer, and I tried to squirm away but I was afraid I'd
slip off the desk and embarrass myself even further, so I let Rusty squeeze
right up against me.
     "Actually," he whispered in my ear, "I was talking about what would
have happened if your cheerleader friend hadn't intervened."
     "You mean you'd only be bloody from the waist down, and not all over?"
I spat at him.
     Bravado aside, I gave my skirt a tug vainly trying to cove rmyself.  I
gasped as Rusty slipped a pair of fingers under the slit in the skirt, the
same way Jerry had shortly before he'd taken my virginity.
     "It was more like you threw yourself at me in the stall, Ariel."
     I  tried to push his hand away, "You were blackmailing us, Rusty.  You
didn't leave us with any choice."
     "I was blackmailing them, Ariel.  You hadn't done anything.  Why'd you
do it if you didn't want to?"
     "I was trying to help Muffy."
     "That bitch doesn't care about you."
     "Rusty, what do you want?" I would have given anything for him to take
off his stupid headgear, but even that wouldn't make facing the zit-faced
dweeb any easier.
     "I want you to spread your legs a little bit."
     "Rusty, if you don't move your hand, I'll-"
     "Scream?" he interrupted me.  "Jump up and show everyone in class
you're not wearing any panties?"
     Looking around me at the cluster of boys who were craning to get a
better peek at my legs I realized that it was certainly no secret to them
what was going on.
     "Rusty, if you don't move your hand in a second it's not going to
matter, and I will crack your fucking head open if that happens."
     Rusty, whose fingers were already prowling the depths of my pubic hair
took a long moment to  make a sidelong scan of the room.  If public
humiliation was his only tool to use against me, he had the choice to use it
now, or later.  He must have known I'd give him a few seconds, because his
fingers danced down into my slit.  I opened my legs and gasped-the tiniest
squeak.  Geek fingers slid over my cum sottled labia, ran a circle around my
clit , but just as I gritten my teeth and tensed to attack he stopped.
     Rusty looked around, glaring at the kids who were watching. This had
the effect of turning everyone back to whatever interesting thing they might
have on their desks.  "I still had fun," he said sidelong to me.
     "If getting your ass beat is your idea of fun, I'm happy to oblige."
     "Maybe next time we'll go all the way." Rusty said, scooting his desk
into it's usual place.
     "Maybe I'll just cut to the quick and thump your ass now."
     That shut him up, but Mr. Sharpe still hadn't come out.
     "Look, Rusty, why don't you just try talking to a girl normally?"
     "Isn't that what I'm doing?"
     I shook my head, "No, you're trying to exploit the fact that I'm
vulnerable."
     "I didn't blackmail you."
     "Whatever."
     "I didn't!"
     "Fine."
     "I blackmailed Muffy and Chelsea.  You just went along."
     I bit my lip, wanting to kill this conversation in its tracks but
refusing to relent, "You implied that we were all-"
     "You hadn't done anything, Ariel.  How could I blackmail a girl who
didn't do anything?"
     I was silent for a long time.  Then I said, "You ever had a friend in
need?"
     Rusty made a contemptuous spitting sound, "They're not your friends."
     "You can't understand."
     "What?  A cheerleader used you to get out of blowing me, that's not
friendship."
     "I wouldn't expect that a guy capable of raping a girl to understand
what friendship is."
     "It wasn't rape."
     "It was."
     Rusty was suddenly angry.  He was making weird jerky motions at anyone
who appeared to be eavesdropping on our hushed conversations, "She's a
cheerleader, she doesn't have friends.  She just uses people to prop up her
shallow self-centered existence."
     "Don't change the subject, you know it was rape."
     "Maybe in Muffy's case, but not yours."
     "Fine," I said trying to force back the tears that inexplicably welled
up, "I rest my case."
     Rusty was staring at me.  He didn't try to argue that he'd admitted to
raping Muffy through blackmail (or at least conspiring to let his friends do
it).  I bet that he'd even calculated that we'd never tell for the shame of
being raped by geeks was greater than our cumulative desire for justice.
     "So you owe me one."
     "What?" I said aloud, astonished at his chutzpah.
     "You had no reason to go psycho on me.  We were both having a good
time.  We might have gone all the way."
     I shook my head, "You stole my first kiss.  You made me touch your..."
tears were starting to run down my cheeks.  I was glad I hadn't put on
make-up today.
     Rusty was visibly agitated by this.  "No, you did it."
     "Just let it drop, Rusty."
     The boy played with a pencil on his desk for a long quiet while when
Mr. Sharpe finally came into the classroom.
     "Sorry, uh, kids.  I was, um, on the phone.  If you'll push your desks
apart and..." in his high pitched nasal voice, the grown version of Rusty sans
headgear and pimples started handing out the quiz.
     Rusty said quietly, "I was just hoping...  You know."
     Of course I knew, and he was fooling himself to the extreme.
     Then it struck me that he had so thoroughly calculated sneaking into
the bathroom, possibly after seeing the two cheerleaders enter, bringing his
friends and somehow keeping them quiet.  He had known they'd pretend to
acquiesce to his demands, known he'd probably get far enough to score before
things went ballistic.  He'd even been able to take advantage of my own
sudden, inexplicable friendship with the girls, and force me to willingly
kiss him, make him pleasure me, and go down on him, perhaps even guessing
that we'd wait until after they came to make our move.
     "Rusty?" I whispered.
     "Yeah?"
     "You planned it didn't you?"
     He sort of shifted in his seat.  Mr. Sharpe put a paper on my desk, and
I pretended to ponder it until he had moved on to the next row.
     Rusty muttered, "Sort of."
     "No, I mean..." I started scribbling nonsense on the paper, "I mean, you
expected to get your ass kicked.  That's why you're so smug now, right?"
     "It was a reasonable probability."
     "Worth losing your virginity, right?"
     He nodded, pretending to be starting on his test.
     "Sucks that it didn't work out, eh?"
     He just scowled for a second, then started answering questions.
     I swallowed, knowing what I was about to offer up, but it couldn't
possibly be any worse than what was going to happen to me after fourth
period.
     "Rusty, I need your help."

     The boy evinced little surprise at my tale, though he notched an
eyebrow when I told him they were threatening to spread rumors of a
particularly scandalous relationship, which, "I couldn't even begin to
describe but it's a total lie!" I insisted.
     As was not uncommon, Rusty collected the papers for Mr. Sharpe after
the test at which point he claimed he'd need some "help" setting up the
intermediate trig exam in the computer lab for next period, and that since
he was tutoring me for my computer class (Mr. Sharpe had no way of knowing I
wasn't in the computer class) could I come along.
     Mr. Sharpe raised his eyebrows at the suggestion, but giving a
perfunctory examination of my quiz determined that I would be okay skipping
the review class (thanks to Rusty's assistance I had probably gotten every
answer right, or some convincing variable that Rusty had determined would
make me look competent).
     Rusty marched to the door, gesturing me to follow, our hall pass in
hand, and I struggled to keep the butt of my skirt down as I got out of my
seat, gathered my books, and made my way out of the room.
     The second I was out the door Rusty led me off across campus to the
library and started talking, "The important thing-no...  The only way to
counter a rumor is to upset the credibility of the source before the
dissemination of the information has occurred."
     He grabbed my arm and started steering me the roundabout way to the
library, skirting the interior shortcuts, "It goes on all the time in
politics, a story is about to break, they trump it with a bigger one, or at
least a more sensational one."
     "So what can I say?  People won't believe me."
     "It's not what you say, it's how you say it, or more particularly,
through whom.  If you can find a credible vehicle for delivery, you have
that much higher a percentage of making an acceptable scandal before your
own breaks."
     "What if Jerry was gay?" I said snickering.
     "Too much information to the contrary, besides you've got a number of
witnesses who saw him fucking you at the dance."
     "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"
     "I don't need to, most of the school probably already knows, at least
in jock circles."
     "You're serious?"
     "Have you ever heard of a discreet jock?"
     I shook my head, but I wasn't too surprised to recognize this fact of
high school life.
     "So what should the rumor be."
     "Cry rape."
     The thought of positing myself as a little rape victim made me cringe
bodily, knowing that I'd carry that stigma for the rest of my time in school
and beyond.  "But, they'd just claim that I was lying."
     "And they'd be right.  That's why you have to make it real."
     "Look, I'm not going to go out and get raped again just so I can have
moral goodness by my side."
     Rusty quickly hushed me up and smiled at Mr. Schaffer as he came around
a corner.  Schaffer didn't even ask for our hall pass, so confident he was
in Rusty's honesty, if not mine.  When he was well out of hearing, Rusty
said, "It's not the reality, but the fact that you have to arrange to get
caught."
     "What?"
     "Arrange a time and place to snare one of your boys in a liaison.  One
in which a reliable witness, preferably a teacher, will find you.  That's
when you start crying bloody murder."
     "I'd prefer to avoid having to fuck anyone at all.  And I don't like
the idea of sending a boy to jail just to save my reputation."
     "Then send him to jail for blackmailing you.  After all, their
influence is posited from a lie, isn't it Ariel?"  The way he said my name
made me think he doubted that the "scandalous lie" was a lie.
     I swallowed, "Kind of like what you did to Muffy and me?"
     "No, just Muffy, and I got my ass beat for that.  Ergo, no rape charges
from either of you," he said smiling, though I noticed that he had been
walking with a slight limp.
     "You did plan out the beating."
     "I didn't plan on you grabbing my nuts, but yeah.  It seemed the
logical way to avoid having to face disciplinary action."
     "Disciplinary action, Rusty, you committed a felony."
     "I've committed a few, and if I'm going to do this for you you're going
to have to be willing to make some ugly decisions too."
     "Like sleeping with you?"
     "Like being my girlfriend."
     I felt my mouth going dry, but I'd been prepared for something like
that.  "Wouldn't you prefer...  You know, a girlfriend who's..."
     "An equal?" he said as if it were a foregone conclusion that I was his
subordinate. "You are my equal, just too wound up in stupid girl games to
know it."
     "You don't want a girlfriend, Rusty, you just want the reputation of
having a girlfriend."
     "Correct."
     "Isn't it enough...  I mean, wouldn't it be enough if we slept together...
I mean, when you wanted to."
     "Oh, I figure I've got you for the next eighteen months before you
manipulate your way out of it."
     "Eighteen months!  No way."
     Rusty only shook his head as he opened up the doors to the main
building where the computer lab was, in the back of the library, "It's not a
request, Ariel, it's how long I figure I can exploit this favor.  You might
be able to adjust that figure as time goes on..."
     Damn right I would, I thought, but that didn't make my outlook any
brighter.
     "Think about it, Ariel.  You figured out that I had planned out what
happened in the bathroom all the way down to the fight.  You're not stupid.
How long before we get to a point today where you will agree to any terms I
make?"
     I peered at him, "You're manipulating me again, Rusty.  Why should I
enslave myself to you for a year and a half instead of just doing this
gangbang and getting it over with?"
     Rusty led me into the library, turned and held up a finger, "One:
Those guys'll kill you."  This was true.  "Two:  It will never be over until
they and everyone involved graduates, and you know that.  They'll turn it on
you and you'll be gangbang sally for three more years."
     I nodded.
     "Three:  You're not going to get out of the gangbang unless you filter
an effective destabilizing campaign against the JV team by eleven-thirty."
     "Okay," I said as we rounded the corner into the computer lab.
     "Guys, this is Ariel."
     Two freshmen, brothers from the look, possibly twins, both short,
squat, and fat leered at my legs with nervous, anxious expressions.  "Hi,
Ariel," they said not quite in sync.
     "Hey guys," Rusty said as he went over to the pair and whispered some
conspiratorial mumblings.  Then he stood up, turning to me, "You're up."
     The two fat kids had turned to the computer they sat in front of, but
were clearly distracted by the sight of the leggy girl with the slit in her
miniskirt.  "Here?" I asked.
     Rusty gestured to a clock behind me, "We've got twenty minutes before
break.  There's nobody in the library but us."
     I nodded, and though I felt like wilting under the combined leers of
the three of them, this was better than spreading my legs on the bank of the
creek and letting the most cruel, manipulative bunch in school have their
way with me.
     I undid the jacket and let it slide off my arms.
     Both the brothers eyes bugged out at the sight of the sophomore girl
with nothing on but about ten inches of skirt sauntered up to their
ringleader and gave him a kiss (thankfully he had taken the headgear off
before leaving class).  For the second time I found myself compelled to
pleasure Rusty, in a public place, and for an audience.  But this time Rusty
slipped behind me, turning me to face the brothers who had abandoned their
tasks while he slipped his hand under my skirt.
     If I hadn't been ready for sex when I came into the library, Rusty
seemed to know how to prepare me.  He had paid careful attention to my
lessons on Friday and was deftly caressing me all around the sex, warming me
up to direct contact, and clearly my body was responding to him.  I didn't
want to enjoy this, I told myself.  This was the lesser of two evils, not a
pleasure outing.
     But even as I tried to tell myself that, I felt my body alight.  I
imagined for a minute it was Ronnie back there-I tried to picture Eric, but
it was Ronnie that made me feel so good.
     I shut my eyes to the fat kids and Rusty led me to a table.  he turned
me around and shared our second kiss, just as sloppy as the first, if a
little less tonguey on Rusty's part.  Nevertheless, I found myself spreading
my legs around his hips, conscious that I was baring myself to all the
boys.  I decided to let myself enjoy this.  It was my idea, after all, and
Rusty, like Eric, was actually trying to please me.
      I opened my eyes and cringed to see the ugly, scheming nerd descended
onto my chest to start tonguing and licking my bosom, suckling on my
nipples, but I shut my eyes and saw Mitch, so I clutched his head in
pleasure.  This was infinitely preferable to Ronnie's stubby cock and his
frantic pounding against my sex, but could I endure eighteen months of
servitude to Rusty?  Could I publicly be his girlfriend?
     Pushing aside thoughts of the future I decided to focus at the task at
hand.  Right now I had to service Rusty.  I needed him if I were to get out
of my obligation to the football players and save myself from yet another
brutal fucking by Jerry.  With that thought in mind I unbuckled Rusty's
pants, drew his zipper down and extracted his short, needle-like member.
     I hadn't recalled it being so tiny, but then it had been the first one
I'd ever seen in the flesh.  Perhaps I could do this for eighteen months.
I'd hardly feel it, I quipped to myself.
     "Come on, Rusty.  I'm ready."
     Rusty was ready too, and I had to forcibly stop him from diving in at
the wrong angle and hurting us both.  taking his member in hand and kissing
my new taskmaster I guided him in, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull
him further as I let out a genuine moan of pleasure which came out as my
typical squeak.
     "Quiet.  They're restocking shelves but they can hear us if we're too
loud."
     "You said we were alone."
     "I lied." the little creep said, even as he started thrusting into me.
     I just nodded, biting my lip, and started rocking my hips to match
Rusty's movements.
     I was wrong about the size though.  I could feel definitely him.  Only
a few seconds had passed before I was gasping with the boy's frantic
thrusting, surprised that a small shaft could give as much pleasure as a
bigger one, but only briefly as my body succumbed to the pressure of another
man driving me, albeit a small, skinny geeky one.  At least this one had
taken the time to set me up for the main event.  I was more than happy to be
distracted from the who I was actually fucking with the how it was actually
fucking me.
     But true to form, the virgin Rusty was actually starting to convulse
bare minutes into the main event.  He'd have been even quicker had he gotten
inside me on Friday, when I was a virgin but the result was the same.  I
lifted my legs and made it as good as possible for him while he grunted and
slobbered on my shoulder, moaning and groaning until the last few drops of
Rusty's virginity spilled inside me.
     Still, I thought as I forced down a cry of frustration at the frantic
pace in which men found their pleasures, it would be worth it to get me out
of the gangbang at first lunch.
     Rusty was already buckling up his pants, but I was still gasping for
more.  Unfortunately the only able-bodied men available happened to be the
pudge brothers.  Not that doing Rusty wasn't in fact sinking pretty low, but
I had a cause when I went there-despite having gotten off on it.
     I caught myself wistfully imagining Eric climbing on top of me.  "I
love you, sis." The words echoing in my head, but I slammed that thought
shut and pushed the skirt down before the lard twins got any ideas.
Besides, I thought.  The only reason I'm not cringing in horrific pain right
now is probably because Rusty was in fact, a pencil-dicked geek.  I'd seen
enough of men in the past three days to know that physical stature and penis
size have next to nothing in common.
     "So what's the plan?" I said through trembling lips, crossing my arms
involuntarily over my nudity.  I couldn't believe how far Rusty had gotten
with me.  Not in a million years did I ever imagine...
     "Hmm?  I'll think about it.  You can go back to class."
     Rusty wasn't paying any attention at all to me any more.  He had
switched on a computer and was waiting for it to boot up.
     "Rusty, I've got four hours to work this out."
     "Actually three and a half now."  The little twerp didn't even look
back at me.
     "Well, is there anything I can do?  I mean...  Rusty."
     Finally the shit looked back at me, disheveled, half dressed,
distraught, "You just did it."
     "Rusty, why do I get the suspicion that I'm about to beat the crap out
of you again?"
     He turned back around again, "You're not.  Your outnumbered, and you
don't know if you could take me even if we were alone."
     I looked at the two fatballs at their terminal, ogling my tits which
were jiggling and bouncing around as I threw my arms up in frustration
before I grabbed Rusty and wheeled him around to face me, "You were never
going to help me."
     "Can't be done, Ariel.  Not by us.  We don't have the influence or
resources." His distracted expression turned into a sneer.
     "So the only reason you took me out here..."
     "Was to fuck you.  Now go back to class, Mr. Sharpe was very specific
about you getting back before class was over."
     My jaw was shaking, I was trembling between rage and the terror of
impotence.  I put up my hands to Rusty's oily, pimply face, "Please, Rusty.
Please, I need you."
     His sneer faded into a reflection of my own anger, "You squeezed my
balls, now you put out for me.  That makes us even."
     "Not even..." I couldn't believe I was hearing myself say this, "Even if
I'm your girlfriend?"
     He grabbed one of my hands and pushed it away from his face, trying to
shake off the other one, but I held on to his neck, "You'd never date me.
Not in a million years.  The only reason we're here is bacause I wanted
witnesses to show that I'm not  a virgin, because otherwise you'd never own
up to it.  Besides, wo'd want to date a girl that did the whole JV team at
lunch?  I'm not that desperate."
     I felt my nails sinking into the soft, pasty flesh on Rusty's neck and
as he shoved me back I ripped, hard, soft flesh tearing under my short but
hard nails, leaving four crimson scars that stood out on even Rusty's
freckled visage.
     "You stupid bitch!" Rusty cried, grabbing his neck, tears welling up in
his eyes.  Then in a lower voice, but still agitated he said,  "You lost,
Ariel.  Get used to it."
     "I'm only just getting started." I said raising up a balled fist.
     Rusty held up a hand, both as a warning but as a ward to hold me off,
"Think about it Ariel.  You aren't stupid.  I'm the same size as you and you
haven't got my balls in your hand this time."
     "No Rusty." I said, wavering on my feet as the adrenaline surged
through my body, a mixture of rage, frustration, and arousal.  "But I do
have a crack full of you jizz." And I slammed my fist with every bit of
strength into my temple, throwing myself over with the force and landing,
hard, right on my face.  Blood squirted into my mouth as I heard Rusty cry
"No!" and the pain exploded in my face, washing me in white-hot streaks of
splitting fire.  The entire right half of my face felt like it was burning.
     Rusty grabbed my shoulders and turned my on my back, "What are you
doing?" his face was contorted with fear and anger.
     "No!" I said in a bold, clear voice.  "Not again, Please!" and I tried
to smack myself again but Rusty grabbed my hand, so I pinched my bicep,
squeezing with merciless cruelty, the searing pain tearing through my
aroused passions.  I could feel liquid running down my cheek as Rusty
slammed his free hand over my mouth.
     "Stop it." The boy was frantic, looking out the entrance to the lab,
which was merely an opening in two bookshelves, his eyes wide, terrified."
     I pushed his hand off my mouth.
     "You want me to shut up then get on that terminal and get me the
mailing lists for the prep squad, the football team, and staff, and anyone
else who might know Ronnie Wilson and Mitch Stovinsky."
     "What?"
     I shoved the boy away, "Let go of me." I pointed at the pudge twins,
"Can you forge an email header?"
     The boys looked at each other dumbly then back at me as I grabbed up my
coat from the floor, wavering on my feet, still dizzy from the punch.
     "Yo, lard butts!  Yes or no?"
     Both boys nodded.
     "You want a piece of this?" I gestured to my face, blood on my lip,
trickling from a split by my eye.  They shook their heads.
     "Fine.  Compose an email from... From someone on the yearbook committee.
Set it up as a reply to the mailing lists Rusty is going to give you but
type in Mitch and Ron's email address.  Make it look like it came from the
yearbook staff."  I looked at Rusty, who still stood in shock, "You're not
working Rusty."
     "You...  You-!" he said aloud before dropping back to a library whisper,
"I just fucked you!"
     "It wasn't bad either, Ronnie, just too fast.  Now get to work."
     "But-"
     "I liked your idea about framing a rape.  Now get to work before I
raise me voice again."
     "You didn't plan this." Rusty insisted, but he got in his chair and hit
the access icon for the school's intranet, "You... You're just improvising."
     I started to buckle my coat, then thought better of it as I noticed the
twins still watching me, "Do you know what an accessory to rape is?"
     They did, and they got to work quickly.
     I put my hand on Rusty's shoulder, and the boy practically jumped out
of his chair before regaining control.  He had accessed the school's
extracurricular activities page.  I said, "Eighteen months?  Your
girlfriend?  Seriously, Rusty, I'd be as bad for your reputation as you
would be for mine."
     "So you stole my idea?  There's no way you-"
     "Work." I ordered, and Rusty obeyed, his hands shaking so much that he
stopped trying to use the keyboard entirely, "I just needed you to get me
out of class.  The rape part I thought up on the way over, when you
practically pissed your pants at the sight of Mr. Schaffer."
     "A... Ariel?" one of the talking bellies stammered.
     "What?"
     "Y-you c-can't technically separate a h-hand typed address from a,
uh-reply."
     I thought about that.  I knew how to use the internet, and just enough
about email to report spammers on Spamcop, but the complexities of POP3, and
HTML, and headers was pretty much greek to me, "Suggestions?"
     "B-bury the list so you... so you have to parse the source to s-see it.
Not... I mean, cheerleaders and football players..."
     The boy trailed off, but I could pick that up, "They aren't going to be
able to see anything but Mitch and Ronnie's names."
     The other blubber tub stammered, his eyes glued to my chest, "If
th-that."
     "Make it so, number one." I ordered, glancing through the opening as a
teacher walked by.  I tugged my jacket closed and turned away to hide my
scars.
     "No one is going to read this," Rusty, a little more in control now
said. "At least not until after school."
     I shook my head recalling the vast amount of time kids wasted on the
internet at every available opportunity.  Maybe not a lot of jocks and
cheerleaders, but the super-socialites would certainly want to keep up with
their friends who were suspended for bringing alcohol t the dance.  In spite
of this thought I said, "Doesn't matter.  The plan is to trump an improbable
rumor with a slightly less improbable one.   Just like you said."
     "That was my idea."
     "Was is worth my ass?" Rusty had just transferred the list of addressed
he had collated, and it was really large, over to the brothers' computer.
"Now access a terminal from the yearbook class.  We'll send the email from
there."
     "I'd have to..." Rusty put his hands down, "I'd have to break in.  I
don't have the password."
     I suckled on my bottom lip for a second.  Fuck.  My fall had torn my
labret.  Then I spat on the desk in front of Rusty, blood and spit
splattered everywhere, "Crack it."
     Rusty seemed to freeze for a moment as my saliva splattered all over
him.
     "Rusty" I knelt down to speak in his ear, not for privacy, but so the
words would vibrate in his head, "I've got your spit in my mouth, I've eaten
your cum, I'm full of the stuff right now and it's dripping down my leg, so
let's not be squeamish about a little of my blood."
     Rusty moved the mouse and selected a portion of the URL text in the
address bar.  He hit the delete key and a password prompt popped up.  "I
fucked you once.  I can do it again."
     "And I still know where your balls are, dear sweet Rusty." And with
that I gave him a tender, lover's kiss, right on the mouth.  I decided to
switch tactics, "Come on, i need you, Rusty."  My hand found his crotch.  He
was hard again.
       Rusty entered the password.
     "After you're done with that I need you to do a little editing of the
school logo on the homepage."
     Rusty froze, his anger and lust fighting for control.  "Maybe," he
stuttered, "M-maybe if we can do it again?"  His zitty face was right next
to mine.
     I pulled down his zipper and slipped my hand in, "Will you let me cum
this time?"
     He shook his head, "No."  He was trying to grin-to match my malice, but
I could see the very real struggle he was having:  My terms or risk no sex.
     I was stroking his cock, "You bastard."
     I stood up, "Fatty, watch the door."  I took off my coat, and this time
the skirt went down to my ankles.  I laid down on my back and Rusty came to
me.  His little pencil dick stabbed me a thousand times before he came.  he
was used to my body.  I didn't cum.  Maybe because the little fat pots were
gawking, but it also might have been because Rusty had said I wouldn't.
Maybe when I admitted defeat to Ronnie this morning I decided to let the men
who would have me rule me.  Still, Rusty was a wonderful, tender lover.  His
kisses were almost as good as Eric's, and I loved every second of the
fucking he gave me.


     Hey Guys,

         It's really great to see you trying so hard to score
     and to establish your reputation as balls out manly
     jocks.  I think everyone will be really impressed that
     you scored with a geek sophomore and a pair of
     freshmen too drunk to walk.  Let the braging begin.

     But as you have not bothered to email me back or return
     My teleaphone calls I begin to think that you aren't taking
     me seriously.  You probably want to go look at the
     school website before you respond to this leter.  Let me know
     if you think I cropped too much.  I thought the picture lookd
     better without Mitch's face in it.  I never realized how much
     it hurts to do that that way.

     By the way, Ronnie's car had a blue book of 1350.  I checke it
     on autotrader.com.  That will leave you with beer money left
     over to get drunk more freshmen, so don't dilly dally.  My
     deadline hasn't changed.

     Love and kisses, Misty

     "You misspelled telephone." Rusty said tartly,
     "I know that but Netscape doesn't have a spellchecker and I want people
to think it came from someone in yearbook."
     "Those guys can't spell for shit." Blubber #1 chortled to his
snickering friend.
     "There's no Misty on yearbook staff."
     "There's no one named Misty in school at all." Blubber #1 said.
     "Hey Ariel," Blubber #2 said.  I still hadn't found out their real
names.  "How's this picture.
     Blubber #2 had found a password to a gay fetish site on the web and was
snickering at a picture of a lithe muscular man doing a pudgy Asian guy from
behind.  They both had garters and stockings on, and the Asian man had a
very small dick.
     "Can you crop the faces and resize it to fit the logo?"
     "No problem." Blubber #1 offered.  Once they had gotten started the
little hackers had proved not only adept at cracking the school's miserable
security (they'd been practicing since the first day of school), but
enthusiastic.  There was certainly no love lost between the short, fat
freshmen geeks and high school football players, and they seemed to have a
positive relish for practical jokes.
     I leaned down between the pair of them and gave each a kiss on the
cheek, wincing as my self-inflicted bruising was starting to swell.  "You
guys are great," I said, "If I get out of this I'm going to do you both
together."
     My motivational speech had the effect of leaving both boys trembling,
but grinning, almost afraid to look at each other for fear they'd meet my
eye.  Poor pathetic little freshmen, I thought.  "Chop, chop." I said and
they instantly sprang back to life.
     "How about me?" Rusty said glaring at me, his work done now that he had
sent the message.
     "Paid in advance, dear." But I gave him a little condescending kiss on
the forehead, "But I've still got the evidence to prove it." And I hiked up
my skirt as if showing Rusty the semen in my vagina, which hadn't really
started to leak out yet.  "It's going to be there all day, you know."  That
thought actually made me cringe.  I was getting a little tired of walking
around with other men's seed filling my loins.
     But then I thought of Rusty's machiavellian schemes, and how he had so
far manipulated sex out of Muffy and myself and who knows who else.
Certainly Chelsea would have gotten it if she hadn't played possum.
     I knelt down and leaned to Rusty's ear again, this time it was for
privacy, "Look, Rusty."  I licked my lips and swallowed.  Trying to act
nervous wasn't too hard because I was a little nervous, "If things work out,
and I get out of this..."
     He had turned to face me and I had to look away fro a moment, but I
steeled myself to look him in the eye, "You were pretty good to me when we
were doing it.  If you think you can act a little nicer with me...  No
tricks."  I couldn't figure out how to finish the sentence.  To tell him
that I would indeed be willing to sleep with the guy who had blackmailed the
women who'd helped me and tricked me when I was desperate into putting out.
"You're pretty good at it, y'know?"
     But Rusty seemed genuinely moved, or at least a little upset, "I-I'm
sorry I tricked you, Ariel."
     "Don't be sorry, Rusty.  Just don't do it again.  To anyone."
     He nodded, "Okay.  You're not going to...  You know, cry rape on me."
     I shook my head.  I was probably more terrified of the prospect of
playing the rape victim of Rusty than he was of playing rapist.  I don't
think I could have pegged him with it now that my anger and frustration had
faded.  It would mean ruining his life.  "I was really mad, Rusty.  Mad and
scared."
     "I guess I was too." Rusty perked up, his eyes alight with what
actually might have been some sign of friendship, "We did have a good time,
though didn't we?"
     I smiled at him, like he was a dear friend I'd just had a spat with,
"Yeah, well.  Don't push your luck."
     He grinned back at me, "You know, if we got them called up to the
office together on the loudspeaker it could cause a lot of raised eyebrows
after that email goes out."
     "You can do that?"
     "Just have to put it in the schedule," and with that he turned to the
monitor and started clicking on the screen.  I got up and stepped away,
peering out the entrance to the library.
     Like I'd ever let that little slug touch me again.  I might not cry
rape on him, but I'd break his fucking head open before letting him weasel
his way into my pants.  For a third time, I mean.
     Still, if dangling my pussy in front of his horny little freshmen eyes
got Rusty helping me it would be better than having him worry how to stop me
from pinning my rape on his skinny little treacherous ass.  I sighed.  There
was no one in sight, but the blood on my face was scabbing and itchy.  I'd
need to get cleaned up for second period soon.
     I looked back at Rusty eagerly inserting a scheduled announcement as if
it were a late addition into the daily bulletin.  I'd fucked him once to get
his help, and once to get ff.  I might have to do it again.  It would be
worth it, I thought, if it meant I'd keep Jerry's cock out of me.
     I buckled the jacket around me and snapped it up the collar.  It didn't
to anything for the shiver running down my spine, but it felt a little
better.

     Dreading second period almost as much as I dreaded first lunch I found
myself getting more and more looks as I closed up my locker, science books
in hand.  It seemed that a surprising number of upper classmen were taking
an interest in me. It wasn't a lack of the usual sneers that got my
attention, as they were as evident as ever, but rather the raised eyebrows
of many of the boys, and the coughing condescension of so many of the girls
who might have otherwise completely ignored me.
     I was most disturbed by some of the older girls, a lot of them
cheerleaders, student reps, and the like.  Popular, pretty girls who had
treated me to nothing but scorn and humiliation my whole high school career,
yet greeted me with sad eyes, and pity.
     I wasn't sure whether it was word of my incestuous affair or of my
impending debauchery that was spreading across school, but it all conspired
greatly to utterly eradicate the glimmers of hope I had felt having staged a
very convincing smear campaign against my detractors.
     Still, I reasoned.  I might be able to get away with ditching school
now that I had some leverage against the leak of what, in the cold light of
day, was just another rumor about a pretty unpopular girl.  Even without a
gay-love smear to trump my incest it was unlikely that people would take
such a comment about me any more seriously than all the rumors that I
carried knives to school and worshipped Satan.  Without proof it might
simply fade away into the occasional taunt.  Then again today's skirt was
not going to help matters.  I needed to find something longer.
     But since I had attended math, I'd have to at least attend science
before ducking out of school.  Mrs. Dee of all teachers would carefully
scrutinize her rosters for absenteeism in between classes as her class had
the highest cut rate in school next to PE.  I just hoped that I wouldn't be
late to her class after hitting the locker room because one thing I couldn't
do was attend her class with nothing under this micro-mini.
     Unfortunately Mrs. Delaurian, one of the PE teachers, was taking
attendance at the locker room doors.  Evidently there had been issues with
students sneaking through the locker rooms to go smoke in the alley behind
school, which meant that either I had to sneak out to the side entrance via
that same alley, where no doubt many seniors who didn't have first period
classes were finishing up their morning cigarettes, or I had to brave Mrs.
Dee's class without any panties on.
     The first bell rang, and I felt the pressure coming on as students
started scampering to class, which I now had just a couple minutes to get
to, still Mrs. Delaurian hadn't gone in.  I wasn't faced with a good choice,
and decided to try my luck with an excuse, maybe something about my purse in
the locker, or even better, the truth.
     "Don't even think about it, slut."
     My blood ran cold.  Jerry clutched my arm.  Bill was standing with him,
both of them staring at me with contempt, though where Jerry fixed me with a
malicious sneer, Bill had nothing but disgust.
     "Let go of me Jerry," I said but he laughed and started guiding me to
the lockers, grabbing my science book out of my hand.
     "Science, eh?  We'll just make sure you get to class on time." And with
that he hurled my book onto the roof of the locker maze, little scraps of
notepaper flying everywhere.  "But first we have to check on a rumor we
heard."
     If it was possible for the blood to freeze up in a girl's veins, that's
exactly what happened to me, because Jerry and Bill practically had to carry
me into the shelter of the maze, rounding a corner to get me out of sight,
if not from rushing students, but from the admin building.
     Jerry pushed me up against a stack of lockers, the combination locked
jabbing me in the back, and that seemed to be the first time that either of
them noticed my face.
     "What happened?" Bill asked, his brow darkening.
     As if these guys had any right to give a shit what had happened to me,
"Your mom got a little upset when she found me fucking your dad, Bill."
     Bill's face went red and he grabbed me off the locker, spun me around
and smashed me bodily, face first into the lockers, "Fucking whore!"
     Unlike with Rusty I was completely powerless to resist the sheer volume
of muscle the boy had to use against me.  It seemed that the scattered
students in the hall felt the same way about themselves as they did their
best to ignore my plight.
     I felt Bill's hands hike my skirt up, "Fucking slut.  You didn't even
put them on for school."
     "I didn't want anything to get in the way of your hot cock, Bill." I
said contemptuously, cringing in anticipation of the next attack.  But Jerry
held his friend and co-conspirator back,
     "Wait Bill, I want to hear about this whole little brother thing."
     Trembling and angry as I was I had prepared for such a question.
Spinning around I tugged the skirt back down and said, "What did they do to
Eric?"
     "She has such concern for her little brother, isn't that sweet." Jerry
said cradling my chin in his hand.  "So how long you been fucking the little
rodent?"
     The anger was very real, I didn't have to act, "You're fucking sick!"
and I landed a punch right across Jerry's jaw, but before I had a chance to
follow up Bill had thrown me against the lockers yet again and I had to gasp
for air and struggle to keep standing as dizziness threatened to topple me.
     Jerry had barely been fazed by my hit.  Though he had a red mark on his
jaw it was a pretty safe bet that my hand hurt a lot more than his face.  He
was putting on a noble effort to keep his face a sneering grin, but I could
see his lips tremble with the effort.  I had gotten him mad.  "Looks like it
was true, eh Bill?"
     "Fuck off." I croaked, knowing that running would be pointless at this
stage.
     Bill looked straight at me, "You actually fuck your little brother."
     I had to look away before moaning, "no."
     "That sound like a 'yes' to you?" Jerry asked his partner.
     "Yup."
     In the haze of my humiliation, shame, and impotence I heard myself
repeat another of the lines I'd prepared, "Who told you that, Mitch?"  My
voice was weak and shaky.
     "What, doesn't everyone know that Ariel does little Eric?" The last
words Jerry uttered were said in baby talk and I threw myself at him but was
deflected almost casually back into the lockers.  It was starting to hurt a
lot.
     "Who cares who told us?" Bill said almost casually, but I could tell he
was wondering indeed what it mattered.  I'd probably been right after all.
     "Because he and Ronnie..." the pause was deliberate, but it was easy to
feign a reason.  My head was starting to pound badly.  "Never mind."
     "They caught you in the act, right slut?" Bill insisted, but my head
was swimming too much.
     Hell, I thought.  If I pass out now and get taken to the hospital there
was a perfectly valid excuse for dodging the gangbang.  I let myself start
slipping to the ground, but Bill grabbed my arms and stood me back up,
"Don't act all fucking beat up, bitch." And he shook me so hard my teeth
rattled, but it did serve to jolt me out of the daze I was slipping into.
     "We'll take care of that later, little Ariel." Jerry added pushing his
friend out of the way, "I know you're looking forward to it."
     "Oh, yeah." I said, "Bunch of guys watching their friends fuck me.
Wouldn't miss it."
     Jerry just sneered, then grabbed me by the neck and slamming his face
into mine kissed me hard.
     Foreplay from Jerry?  He pushed me away violently and I hit the lockers
again,
     "Take that stupid thing out of your fucking mouth!"  The tardy bell
rang.  We were all late to class.  There was no one around.
     It became obvious to me that Bill and Jerry were thinking about getting
an early stab at me, but my head was pounding and I was wavering on my
feet.  It seemed that no matter how my plan played out I'd wind up spread
out on Jerry's pole after all.  I found myself nodding, and reached up to
unscrew the labret.  I didn't have the strength to resist them physically,
and my spirit for fighting was definitely on the wane.
     Jerry took the bloody hook from me before I got to screw it back
together and shoved it in his pocket. "You can have it back afterwards if
you're a good girl."
     And then he turned me around and I didn't resist.  I felt myself
shaking even more.  This was going to hurt a lot.
     But Bill said, "I want her first."
     I peered at the two jocks from the corner of my eye.  Jerry was
glowering at his friend, his pants unzipped, one hand in his jockeys.  Bill
explained, "You already had her.  It's my turn."
     The two boys faced each other down until, to my surprise, Jerry
capitulated, "What the fuck.  Bones said she gives a mean blow job."
     And I found myself being dragged off the locker wall into a tight
corner of the maze where the angle blocked view from one of the entrances.
Bill spun me to face him and gave me a long, hard kiss before finally
shoving me away, wiping his mouth, "Bitch's bleeding."
     "Careful she don't give you AIDS." Jerry sneered, as if he and I hadn't
already bled all over each other Friday night, but I was in no mood to
argue.  I didn't want anything to upset the decision they'd made to let Bill
have me first.  The thought of Jerry entering me made me more than
complacent to the idea of doing Bill here in the locker maze.
     "Come on, slut." Jerry said, his long, fat member hanging rigid in his
grasp.  I turned to Bill, but he just barked, "Don't fucking look at me."
     So I was going to get double-teamed again, I thought, hoping that I had
enough cum in me so Bill's insertion wouldn't hurt too much.  But as I hiked
up my skirt and knelt down on the hard concrete and faced Jerry's massive
member I felt a flush of warmth on my neck.  My spine was tingling and I
could feel my nipples go hard.
     Oh god! I thought.  I was so ready for this.  I had been thinking about
this cock since it had speared me three days ago, and I found myself
clutching it greedily, admiring its bulk as I opened my jaws wide and
wrapped my lips around it, lapping it over with my tongue to cover it with
my saliva.  I couldn't believe that this monster had been inside me.  The
head was so huge that I could hardly get it past my teeth without scraping
him, the girth so fat that I found myself using both hands to stoke him.  I
could see burst blood vessels under the skin, and scar tissue around the
glans and wondered if this hurt him to be so hard, but instead of striving
to exploit the weakness I instead curved my mouth into the biggest 'O' I
could make, putting myself into the service of Jerry's cock as I lovingly
slaved for Jerry's pleasure.
     "Oh my god." I heard Jerry groan, and a sudden flush of shame came over
me at the pride I felt at experiencing the boy's genuine pleasure.  But
instead of biting hard which I had fantasized about for the past three days
I found myself pumping my face hard over his glans, putting my whole body to
the task of enveloping the swollen, beating presence that filled my mouth.
"Look at her, Bill.  Jesus Christ." Jerry seemed smitten with pleasure, and
even the rough hand he laid on my neck as if to jam more of his mighty
presence into my mouth became soft fingers running through my hair.  Even
the psycho Jerry wasn't willing to compromise the intensity of arousal I was
bringing to bear on his swollen cock.  I had to wonder how much of that was
physical, due to my meager skill and supple, pliant lips, or emotional, due
to Jerry's drive to dominate me ever since I'd humiliated him at the dance.
Whatever the cause it felt disturbingly like genuine affection as the boy
groaned and moaned and I felt my body soaring above the pain and the bruises
as Jerry knelt down in front of me, pointing his mighty spear up that I
wouldn't have to crane my body so hard to service him.  I was tingling and
alive with passion, the intense anticipation of having to take Jerry again
driving me to new levels of arousal which blissfully numbed me to the pain
and abuse I'd endured, yet damningly left me longing for more direct contact
as the flush in my loins allowed Bill to enter me with no fanfare or grace.

     I couldn't cry out for the cock in my mouth, but I felt myself crying
nonetheless, the combination of pleasure and pain so intense as Bill, albeit
a pale reflection of this master of all cocks in my mouth, was certainly in
no way lacking stature.  The pain, however I found was a small price to pay
for the way my insides lit up, and before the cruel boy had started pumping
I was already smashing myself back into him, driving his shaft as far inside
me as it could reach while I strove to give jerry the satisfaction he needed
and I so longed to deliver.
     So instead of fighting the boys as I'd spent the past hour conspiring
to do I found myself immersed in them, enveloping them with both of my
orifices, gratefully surrendering to the pleasures, which seemed the only
escape I'd have coming.
     They heard it before I did.  Hard heels on concrete.  A student,
possibly, but more likely a teacher, or staff as class had begun.  I groaned
in frustration as Bill came out of me but I hung on to Jerry's cock and he
made no move to extract himself as I threw myself into the effort with
renewed vigor, determined to make my man cum at any cost.
     "Come on, Jerr." Bill whispered urgently.
     Jerry's hands still tenderly cradled my head.  "Not yet, man.  Not
yet."
     "Dude, you can finish her off later!" His tone was urgent, the
footsteps louder, more insistent, yet neither Jerry nor I were willing to
uncouple, and I had shoved my hand down to replace Bill's vacancy, bucking
and rocking myself as I fought for my release, that terminal orgasm which
would kill me in a spectacle of ecstasy.
     "Shit!" Jerry cried, finally forcing my head back and I let out a moan
of protest as a great glob of saliva dribbled down my chin, a strand of
spittle joining me to his member, "This isn't finished, bitch!" I couldn't
tell if he was more angry at the interruption or at the way he, like myself,
had totally surrendered to the moment.
     "Ahem."
     Both of us turned to see Mrs. Dee, the very woman who had begun my
torments.  The very teacher whose class I was now late for.  I looked back
at the monster in my hand, the saliva glistening all over it, and felt my
other hand slipping out of my own sex, trying to conceal what I'd been doing
down there as if the cock in my hand weren't bad enough.
     Mrs. Dee pointed at Jerry but said, "You boys, don't you have a class
to get to?"
     Bill took off, but Jerry sprung to attention, trying to force his cock
back inside his pants.  It was a struggle to quickly sheath so vast a mass
of meat into tight jeans, and I watched Mrs. Dee eyeing it with interest, if
not exactly lust as he wrangled his massive member.
     Then, with a brief glance at me, Jerry took off, leaving me alone with
Mrs. Dee, my ass bare, on my knees, still recovering from the major reaming
I'd just gotten.  Why hadn't she stopped them?  They had been raping me in
the halls, hadn't they?
     "Get up, Ariel."
     Pushing my skirt down I found myself stumbling to my feet.
     "I take it you can understand now the importance of the school dress
code."
     I just stared at her blankly.
     "You're the second little whore I've found on her knees today.  I
warned them what would happen, but no, they said.  We got into too much
trouble at the dance."
     "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dee, I..."
     "Don't bother, Ariel, you wanted to look sexy and you know where it
gets you now.  I know you're sorry, you're completely pathetic, in fact."
     She looked me up and down, then around the ground, "Where is your
underwear?"
     I feigned ignorance, giving the area a little once-over, "I don't know,
Mrs. Dee."
     "Stupid girl."
     She grabbed a hold on my arms and started dragging me down the hall,
"Should have learned your lesson at the dance.  Think I'd have made you
stand up in front of all those boys if it wasn't to show you the kind of
trouble you get into when you dress like that."
     Like she was one to talk, with her tight jeans that showed off her
curves, and bosom splitting button-down shirts.
     "I didn't want to wear this," I said, "Mitch Stovinsky tore my skirt
apart."
     "And I'm sure you fought him kicking and screaming like you did those
boys, dear." Mrs. Dee said shaking her head.  The bitch was calling me a
liar.  "Well, I can't have you distracting my class with those skinny legs,
not that anyone's showed up today."
     "What?"
     "Seniors have announced an unofficial cut half-day, to protest all
their delinquent friends getting suspended at the dance."
     "But, you gave an amnesty."
     We reached a door, which Mrs. Dee yanked open and shoved me through
with no little measure of roughness, "Mr. Christiansen gave the amnesty to
little tramps like you, but not to the hooligans who brought alcohol to the
dance."
     Most of Mrs. Dee's class were seniors.  It was only schedule conflicts
and the fact that most students dodged Mrs. Dee's science class until their
last year that had aligned me in a class where I was decidedly in the
minority as a sophomore.  Perhaps the day might not be as bad as I thought.
     "That's why I'm out here, looking for my kids."
     "I wasn't planning on quitting-"
     "I know, I know," Mrs. Dee interrupted, "They grabbed you, made you do
it with them." She wasn't even looking at me but still absently dragging me
down the hall to her class.
     "It's true," I insisted.
     Mrs. Dee stopped us, finally, in front of her class, "Do you think I
care, Ariel?  Really?"
     I could only stare at her, shocked.
     "Ariel, do you know why they say high school excuses are like
assholes?"
     I nodded, "Cause everyone's got one?"
     But she shook her head, "No, Ariel, it's because they smell like shit."

     Mrs. Dee pushed me ahead of her into the sparsely populated
classroom.   Only a pair of sophomore girls and three guys had shown up at
all.  I heard Mrs. Dee sigh behind me.
     "Well, I'm not going to give you the test.  I'm assuming that the
reason you all showed up is because you were actually ready for it, Ariel
notwithstanding."
     Standing there so disheveled and in such a short skirt I really hated
being singled out, but the idea that I had been singled out as ducking her
class for not being prepared after having been molested in the locker maze,
as she damn well knew pissed me off to no little end.
     "That's not true." I insisted.
     She just brushed past me, "Oh, I'm sorry Ariel, I mistook your studying
outfit for a streetwalkers costume."
     I glared at the woman as the guys snickered, giving me once-overs but
apparently not too impressed with what they saw.  "Gentlemen," Mrs. Dee
said, "Should I assume from your behavior that you've never seen a girl's
body before and ought to be signed up for Miss Caulder's remedial Human
Sexuality class?"
     The boys fell silent, looking at the desk, the floor, the ceiling.
     This was why Mrs. Dee was so universally despised.
     "As I was saying, those of you who made it to class on time will
receive an A for a grade, the rest of the class will have to settle for an
F."
     Pulling up the closest chair at the end of one of the long tables that
made up the seating in the science class I sat down with a loud huff.  This
was my reward for getting trapped in the hallway by two guys I despised.
     "Do you have a problem with that Ariel?"
     The bitch was challenging me.
     So I lied, "I studied all weekend for the test."  Well, I had done some
scientific studies, in a certain way, but Mrs. Dee picked up on that.
     "This is a physical science course, Ariel, not biology."
     I hated this class.  Not so much because it was hard, because it
wasn't.  It was a stupid rehash of stuff I'd already learned in Junior
High.  I hated it because Mrs. Dee made the class a living hell.  I tried to
cross my legs because the three guys in front of me kept glancing back. "I
studied." Was all I said.
     "Fine, Ariel." Mrs. Dee pulled up a copy of her test from a stack of
them on her desk.  "What is the velocity of gravity?"
     Shit.  I didn't remember that from her lectures, but I was sure I knew
the answer.  Eric was a total astronomy geek when he wasn't gaming.  He'd
told me this, but I wasn't sure if I remembered.
     "Thirty pounds?" I guessed.
     "Per?"
     "Second." I said definitively
     "At what distance?"  I thought about Jerry's cock in my mouth.  In fact
I hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.
     "A foot?"
     Mrs. Dee sighed, "Close enough." And she scribbled something down in
the book she carried around with her.  I mean, I knew Jerry wasn't a foot
long, but she was right.  It might as well have been.
     "Ariel gets a B.  The correct answer is thirty-two pounds.  That
shouldn't be too hard for you to remember, Ariel.  That's your weight in
pounds after a big meal."
     More snickering, but Mrs. Dee darted an eye across the room and my five
companions in misery shut up.  She had a way of even turning a victory into
an insult, and I just didn't feel like fighting anymore.
     "All right, since there's not much point in lecturing I'm sure this
would be a good opportunity for you to get caught up on your research
projects, due next month as I'm sure you all remember."
     There was a collective groan.  My god, the damn research project.  I
hadn't had a chance to think about that.  We were supposed to find some
historical discovery in science and make a chart showing how it led to some
modern discovery.
     Not having my book I dallied for a few minutes while a couple of the
guys chatted with Mrs. Dee, and the girls got right to work.
     "Ariel."
     I looked up.
     "Since you don't seem have any actual work to do you can go to the
nurses office to get that cut looked at, Charles and Kent will escort you
there to make sure you don't get into any more trouble on the way."
     My mouth fell open to protest, but I slammed it shut.  I don't know
what she told the two guys but I didn't want to give her an excuse to be
more lucid.
     "Fine." I said steaming at the indignity of having an escort.  I
certainly wasn't going to admit that it was nothing like a relief to have
two leering boys walking me across the building to see the nurse.
     "Good," Mrs. Dee said sharply, "I'll be along in a few minutes to
collect you."

     Things went okay for a while.  In fact, we almost made it twenty feet
outside the science class before Kent blurted out, "Shit.  I have to ask.
Are you even wearing any underwear?"
     I groaned and stopped walking, looking at the two boys.  They were both
probably sophomores too, since juniors were required to take biology and
most seniors were cutting the first half of the day.  Kent and Charles were
actually pretty good looking kids, though it was almost embarrassing to see
them both sporting mullet hairdos.  They were both kind of skinny, like most
sixteen year-olds, but both had pretty decent faces, in spite of the fact
that those faces seemed directed deliberately down the length of my legs.
     I went on walking.  It wasn't as if I had any modesty left to protect,
but I was really tired of inviting guys under my skirt, even for discussion.
     Charles, however, was even less tactful than his friend and caught up
with me walking at my elbow, "So you're really going to do the varsity team
at lunch?"
     Well, at least that suspicion had been confirmed.  It was all over
school.
     "Not if I can get out of it?"
     Kent stepped up to my other elbow as I rounded a corner, "Wait, it's
true?"
     I shook my head, trying to recall some of the lines I'd come up with to
help spread rumor about Mitch and Ronnie, "All I know is that I'm supposed
to be blackmailing a couple football players, and they asked me to come down
to the creek to discuss it with them at first lunch."
     "Blackmail them about what?" Kent asked.
     "I have no idea what they're talking about, but now everyone's talking
about a gangbang at the creek."  I didn't have to fake the shudder I felt
discussing the prospect with two strangers.
     "Dude, you're not going to go, are you?"
     Charles' reaction was almost the first genuine sign of concern I had
encountered from a male since Friday.  "Like I said, not if I can avoid it."
     "Man," Kent said in an astonished voice, "Could you even do the whole
team?"
     Well, I guess it was too much to expect for both of them to give a fuck
about my feelings on the matter.  "Sure," I said, "Just get me really drunk,
tie me down, kill me.  No problem, right Charles?"
     He didn't seem to find that funny, "So don't go.  Go to Mr.
Christiansen."
     "What's going to happen after school then?" I asked the question I had
been wondering ever since I'd walked out of my house with Ronnie and Mitch.
"What about tomorrow?  Or the next day?"  If I just ditched school they'd
find a way to catch up with me.
     "So you're gonna do it." Kent said matter of factly.
     "Kent, would you shut up?" Charles berated his friend.
     "Hey, man.  If someone told me I was going to get gangbanged by the
whole varsity cheerleading squad, you couldn't get me down to the creek fast
enough."
     "Thanks Kent," I said. "That's a really reassuring thought.  You ever
been with a girl?"
     "You offering?"
     I thought about the pulsing, pounding pressure that had been riding
underneath my frustration ever since Jerry and Bill had pulled themselves
out of me and left me to deal with Mrs. Dee.  I thought about how
mind-numbingly horny I was and how it was making it really difficult to get
on with planning out what to do next: specifically how to exploit the email
I'd sent.  Learning that all the seniors were taking a half-day off was a
god-send.  That meant that the chances of that letter being read and talked
about were dramatically increased.
     Once again I looked over the two boys while we rounded the next corner
and thought about how I might use them to spread the rumor for me, or even
better, to help me get out of school.
     "Sure," I said, "Why not."  Besides, in spite of their mullets they
were really cute.
     The nurse's office turned out to be vacant, which was no surprise
because Mrs. Eliot had a nutrition class in the mornings and let her senior
nursing aides take care of morning duties, who were naturally cutting the
morning with all the other seniors.  The office, however, was locked.
     Not to be put out of a perfectly viable piece of ass (even if it was a
skinny, gangly, geeky one), Kent revealed to my reluctant lover, Charles
(who wanted to reconsider 'taking advantage' of me), the old lift-n-shove,
which apparently worked like magic on about half of the school doors in the
older buildings.  It also worked pretty well on me once we got inside.

     "Jesus Christ, Ariel!  I can't leave you alone for ten goddamn
minutes!"
     The three of us looked up in horror at our science teacher standing
enraged in the doorway.  Her eyes were full of venom and her black,
button-down shirt looked fit to burst down the front.  She was so puffed up
that it seemed like every button was strained to the limit, showing not only
cleavage and the white bra she had on underneath, but little triangles of
skin down the length of her stomach where the shirt strained as if willing
itself to come apart.
     In fact, I realized, the button over her breasts had already popped
off.
     Kent had been on top of me for perhaps five minutes where we had laid
out on the examination table in the tiny one-room nurse's office, and I had
been delighted to discover that while he was pretty rough and inexperienced,
that he took a kind of casual delight in having sex, which seemed to free
him of the relentless drive to an orgasm that seemed to infect so many of
Kent's peers.
     My stiff, aching sex was only a little discomfited by Kent's average,
but decent sized dick, and it wasn't long before we were fucking like little
bees on a flower, giggling and groaning while Charles, waiting his turn,
perhaps, was supposed to keep an eye out.  All things considered, when
you're nervous, a good fuck is a great way to take your mind off things.  I
knew I was only putting off the problem, but it was a lot better than
obsessing on it.  I'd already decided that come fourth period, when I went
in to the locker room to change for PE, I'd just slip out the back, down the
alley and get the fuck home.  Spend the day with Daria, and maybe even the
day after that.  Then my parents would be home and I wouldn't have to worry
about a junior varsity home invasion at least.
     But we had all forgotten Mrs. Dee's promise to check up on me, and for
the second time today I had been caught with a penis inside me, by the same
teacher.
     "Charles!" She yelled at the boy sitting in terror next to the door,
"What are you doing?"
     The boy jumped up, but Mrs. Dee yelled, "Sit!  Kent!"  Kent was still
buried inside me, completely naked as was I.  The boy rolled away from me as
fast as he could and scrambled for his pants, "Kent!" The boy froze.  Mrs.
Dee pointed at the bench Charles was sitting on, "Sit.  Now!"
     Shaking with embarrassment the boy had dropped his pants and was trying
to cover his raging erection with his hands, but it only bounced around
while he scampered to obey our teacher since the only way to stop it would
be to clutch it and he apparently didn't want to do that in front of Mrs.
Dee.
     The raging bitch scowled at me, "Ariel close your legs before someone
drives a bus through them."  Red faced I did as she ordered, covering my
chest with my hands and sitting up, but I remained where I was.
     "Jesus, Ariel, can't you at least show a little discretion?" I just
felt my face flush and prepared for another belittling comment, but Mrs. Dee
just turned on Kent,
     "Are you even wearing a condom?"
     The boy sputtered and stammered.
     "Do you have any ideas how many boys this little slut has been with?"
     My mouth fell open, "I haven't-"
     "You shut your trap!  What about you?" Mrs. Dee snarled at me, "I
suppose you're just dying to have a kid with one of these punks."
     I kept my mouth shut and, thankfully, Mrs. Dee went back to
interrogating Kent.
     "Front and center."  When the boy hesitated Mrs. Dee added, "Now!"
     Kent, hand still trying to contain what was, amazingly, still a rock
hard member scampered to attention in front of Mrs. Dee.
     "Do you know how to use a condom?"
     The boy looked at me as if I had some excuse for him.  I didn't.  We
hadn't even talked about protection.
     "Don't look at her, answer the question."
     Kent nodded, "Yeah, I just-"
     But Mrs. Dee had spun around and was rooting through the little desk
the nurse used for paperwork.  Finally, in the bottom drawer she produced a
roll of condoms and tore one off the end.  She dropped the rest of them in
the drawer and shoved one at Kent, "Put it on."
     "I-uh... I-"
     "Do as your told, or do you want to explain what you were doing with
Ariel here to Mr. Christiansen?"
     Kent took the condom with fumbling hands, but he could barely pull the
wrapper off, much less actually put it on he was so nervous.  I was actually
starting to enjoy this, though I was dreading the prospect of having Mrs.
Dee turn on me.
     But it seemed that anxiety was finally getting the better of Kent's
erection, and as he tried to put the rubber on his penis started folding in
the middle.
     "Didn't your coach show you guys how to do this your first year of PE?"
     Kent nodded, "But it's, I mean.  I'm just a little-"
     "Give it to me!" Mrs. Dee said her face beat red as she snatched the
rubber out of Kent's trembling hand, but as she did so two buttons snapped
off her shirt and bounced off of Kent's muscular belly. "Oh for Christ's
sake!" Mrs. Dee snapped, hurling the condom across the room.  I'm not sure
if she was aiming at me, but it almost hit me in the face.  She glared at
me, "I don't suppose any of you..." she looked around the room at us, "Knows
how to sew?"
     I shook my head, as did Kent, but Mrs. Dee focused on Charles who was
trying not to look up.  She left my petrified lover standing in the middle
of the room, "Don't lie to me Charles, you're an eagle scout, I know you
know how to use a needle."
     Charles was trying very hard to find something about his shoes to
distract him, but he muttered, "Uh, yeah, I mean-"
     Mrs. Dee grabbed the boy and hauled him to his feet where he towered
over her but hunkered down, cowering, "There's a sewing kit in the desk."
     And three jaws dropped as the puritanical Mrs. Dee started unbuttoning
her blouse, bit by bit revealing the contours of her lithe, tanned body.  As
she reached the bottom and untucked Mrs. Dee revealed the most incredible
collection of muscles I'd ever seen on a woman's body.  Every single muscle
on her abdomen was clearly defined, just short of the jutting veins body
builders had.  Her back was separated with broad, angular lats, and her
shoulders like rigid lumps of chocolate ice-cream, so deep was her tan.  Her
biceps, while not large were lumpen masses, churning on her arms and
underneath her white lacy bra you could see her pecs churning behind her
incredibly round, dark breasts, C-cups, jutting straight out with the force
of being constrained by the undersized bra.  Charles was barely able to tear
his eyes away from his teacher, as were we all, but she shoved the shirt in
his hands, "Top drawer.  Sew!"
     And then she stalked over to me, every movement causing a chain
reaction of rippling muscles.  It was like she spent every spare moment
pumping up.  Even Wade, and Chris, for all their angular beauty were soft to
the touch, but Mrs. Dee looked like bullets would bounce off her.  She
turned to Kent, "Come on." She glared at me, "You pay attention.  If I catch
you fucking someone without a condom ever again I'm going to sterilize you
with my bare hands.  The world doesn't need any more single mothers who
can't put enough brain cells together to use protection.
     Kent had come over, and clearly Mrs. Dee's strip show had done the
trick.  He was positively pulsing with arousal.  He looked, in fact, even
bigger than before, but I was convinced I must be delusional from the
distraction of seeing Mrs. Dee strip down.
     "Come on." Mrs. Dee ordered Kent, and when he took another step she
reached out and grabbed his dick!  "What I'm going to show you may save your
life." She said and picked up the condom where it had bounced off the wall
and fallen on the examination table.  I was too distracted to even care that
I was still naked, and Charles could barely thread the needle, so disturbed
he was by the events taking place.  Kent, poor Kent.  He looked like he was
about to pass out as Mrs. Dee confidently and expertly unrolled the condom
over his pulsing cock.
     "You need to practice this, Kent.  Until you've got a place of your own
you're going to be doing it in dark alleys and the backseats of cars, you
need to be able to do it blindfolded."  And she unrolled the condom with one
hand while using the other to hold his cock steady, then held the re-rolled
rubber up, "Now you do it."
     But Kent was already too far gone.  He started sputtering, and then
moaned loudly and erupted right in front of Mrs. Dee, her knuckles turning
white as she clutched him as if to stem the tide of adolescent semen, but
great jets of pearly white continued to erupt, slamming into Mrs. Dee's
belly and covering her tight, black jeans with white drops of ecstasy.  It
was only Mrs. Dee forcefully holding the boy at bay that kept him from
collapsing on his teacher.
     She let go of his cock and for the first time seemed strangely subdued,
holding up a hand dripping with semen, "Well, now I know why you spend so
much time hovering over my desk in class."
     Kent tried to mouth a protest, a great string of saliva drooling off
his bottom lip, but all he could say was, "Sorry."
     Mrs. Dee looked at me with an evil stare, "I didn't think you guys had
been in here that long."
     Kent was trying to skulk away, but Mrs. Dee just grabbed him, "Oh, no.
You don't get to just walk away from this."  She looked down at herself,
"Jesus Christ."  She grabbed a towel from a paper towel dispenser and tried
to wipe the spunk from her belly, but it just smeared across her beautifully
tanned muscled.  "Here." She shoved the towel in Kent's hand and kept
grabbing towels until her belly was perfectly clean from the smear of Kent's
orgasm.
     But try as she might, she couldn't get all the stains off of her jeans,
and finally told Kent to get dressed.  The boy scampered to obey, but again,
the three of us felt our chests tighten in amazement as Mrs. Dee proceeded
to unbutton her pants, unzip them, and step out of them in front of us all,
being careful not to let the material fold on itself.
     Her bare legs were every bit as impressive as the rest of her, but the
most astonishing thing was her underwear.  High wasted though they were they
were crowned with an elastic, lace waistband that matched her bra.  The
material underneath was also white and sheer, like the bra, but for the lace
pattern.  The bottom was the most amazing part.  There wasn't one.  She was
wearing a thong every bit as revealing as the ones she'd sent so many girls
home over on Friday night.
     She saw me staring, "Don't act so surprised, Ariel, I'm not fifteen."
She saw Charles staring at her and barked, "Sew!"  The boy promptly went
back to his sewing.
     Mrs. Dee then handed her pants to the now, mostly dressed Kent, "Take
these to the bathroom and get the stains out, understand?"  Kent nodded.
"Dry them with the hand dryer."
     She regarded Kent, clutching her pants but his eyes riveted to her
steely body.  "I'll still be here when you get back, Kent, you can stare at
me all you like then."
     By now nothing surprised me but that Mrs. Dee could be so brazenly
careless about running around in her underwear if front of her students.
But then, she was implying that she wasn't going to report us for having sex
on campus.  I didn't think she was too worried about us telling anyone, and
considering the way she acted, not to mention that map of the Andes on her
back, I didn't think she had much to worry about by exhibiting herself in
front of men.
     By now I wanted some excuse to put my clothes on.  Charles was clearly
as distracted by me as he was by our teacher, if not more so since I was
completely nude, but Mrs. Dee didn't seem to think it was worth considering
as she grabbed some medical gauze and poured some alcohol form a bottle onto
it.  She grabbed a sealed bandage and walked right up to me.  She looked me
over for a second and said, "Well, you can spread'em now, I'm not going to
fuck you."
     My mouth fell open, but Mrs. Dee just sighed.  Using the backs of her
hands she pushed my legs apart and stepped right up to me, setting down the
bandages and swab on either side of me.
     Her tits were in my face.  I mean, right there!  I could see the
goosebumps covering her taut flesh, each one just a bit paler than the skin
around it.  In fact, upon close examination I could see little cracks, like
the skin was old and damaged, but looked healthy and supple from only a
couple feet away.  It wasn't uncommon for a sun tanner to have skin like
this, but I'd never seen it this close up, and certainly not on a teacher.
     "Look up."
     I obeyed, and Mrs. Dee was peering at the scar on my temple, but her
face was so close to mine I could have bitten her without even leaning
forward.  I could smell her skin, a light aromatic fragrance seemed to cling
to it in contrast with her bitchy personality.  When she licked her lips I
felt microscopic drops of spittle fall on my own, and down below I could
feel her thighs pressed into mine, spreading my legs further apart, my open
sex an inch from her shrouded one.  If she'd had a dick (And I wasn't
entirely sure she didn't) she'd have been fucking me.  I was instinctively
parting my legs wide for her
     She gave the cut a light touch and I flinched, involuntarily putting my
hands on her hips, marveling as I felt her lace shrouded breasts lean into
mine, at the knots of muscle under that sun-burnt skin.
     Why did she have to stand so close?
     She took up the swab off the table and her eyes flashed into mine, our
lips grazing for an instant as she said, "This is going to sting."
     I gave the smallest of nods and she pulled her head back just far
enough to daub me ultra-gently on the scar, and I flinched gripping her
sides tightly with both my fists and my legs before realizing what I was
doing, and I started to let go,
     "It's okay, Ariel." And she pushed herself closer as she daubed me
again, clinging to my teacher as tears welled up in my eyes.
     "I understand what you're going through." Mrs. Dee said in a low
voice.  So low that Charles couldn't hear, so subtly spoken that his eyes
never waved from Mrs. Dee's incredibly tight, round ass where it was nestled
in between my legs.  I wanted to look away from those penetrating brown
eyes, to get those lips flickering so close to my own, but she held my head
steady as she continued to daub my cut, this time with just water.  "I was a
fifteen year old girl once too, and let me tell you, it never gets any
easier to say no."
     I could only shake my head slightly to show I didn't understand.
     The wrinkles around her eyes bunched up and her lips curled up.  I had
never seen Mrs. Dee smile before and in spite of the wrinkles it was a truly
beautiful sight to see if you had only ever known the tyrant cunt of the
universe in science class.  "I know how badly you must want to be with a boy
right now.  I feel the same thing, all the time.  A lot of women do, and
never get over it, so do a lot of men."
     I said, "It's not like that..." but she had put a finger on my lip.  I
remembered the cut back there and could only squeeze my teacher tight as she
ran a finger inside my lip, between the teeth and gums, making 'tut, tut'
sounds as she felt the cut.
     I thought about Carl, and the way he'd stuck his cum covered fingers in
my mouth so I could suckle on them and the strange satisfaction that I had
gotten from it, and I felt that this woman whose body was colliding in every
way with my own, from her breasts grazing across my nipples to her thighs,
now warmly nestled against my sex, was doing the same thing.  I could taste
Kent's semen on her fingertips, and daring a sidelong glance towards Charles
who was still working on his sewing but stealing glances at Mrs. Dee's ass,
I found my tongue lapping around her finger, taking it past my teeth and
wrapping my lips around it, her long rigid nail scraping gently along my
tongue.  Like my resistance had waned when I took Jerry in my mouth, and as
my tension had faded when Carl had plumbed my lips with his own fingers, I
found myself easing into Mrs. Dee's embrace, wrapping my legs around her as
my hands slipped down past her stonework hips to cradle her buttocks, which
were every bit as firm and rigid as any of the men I'd been with, if not
more so.
     I found another finger leaning against my lips and eyes locking with
Mrs. Dee's fascinated gaze I enveloped that one too.  In the corner of my
eye I saw Charles, the sewing forgotten, staring at us, pale and wide-eyed.
     "Maybe I wasn't this bad." She quipped, smiling softly.  I let out the
softest of squeals as her free hand slid slowly down my back.  "Ariel." She
said and it was like stars had burst down my spine, "I think I see what the
boys see in you." And I felt, rather than heard her gasp as my fingers
squeezed her behind, pulling her closer to me.  I could imagine I felt her
nipples harden, poking out through the rigid lace that constrained her
voluptuous bosom.
     Her fingers slipped out of my mouth, and I was content to let them go
as her lips moved into their place, but she said, "I can't let you do this
Ariel." But I was already grinding myself into her, the taste of her skin in
my mouth, much stronger than Kent's cum, the scent of her, everything about
her as I ground my crotch harder against her thigh.  I risked licking my
lips, and tasted hers, "Ariel, I'm not a lesbian.  I'm your teacher." But
she seemed to be pleading with me, as if she were as powerless to stop me as
I was to resist.  But she misunderstood as she struggled to control herself
while resisting the need to disengage.  Mrs. Dee wasn't any different than
having Jerry's cock in my face.  Dealing with it meant surrender.
Capitulation.  It was like Muffy had taught me, the best way to control a
situation was to transform it into something you can't bear to be without,
and Mrs. Dee who resisted me, whatever allure I had over this psycho
teacher, was as much a victim to my power as I had been to the boys who had
dragged me into the dance.  Desperate, but not understanding why it was
happening to her.
     And before I knew what was happening we were kissing, our breasts
hardened and colliding as I ground myself harder and harder against her
solid, forceful thigh, groaning with muffled cries of pleasure as my
teacher, a woman twice my age enveloped me in her arms as I grappled her
with my legs.

     Then suddenly she threw me back, my scrawny legs no match for the force
in her mighty shoulders and a fell back onto the table as Mrs. Dee
retreated, shock and terrified horror in her eyes.
     But all she said was, "What happened?"
     I guess she was just like me.  Though I was asking the same question.
     Charles just stared at me, the shirt forgotten in his lap as if I had
performed some kind of spell on our teacher.
     "Where the fuck is Kent?" Mrs. Dee asked peering out the blinds of the
room's only window.
     Mrs. Dee swore more than any other teacher I knew.
     "Charles," She said, still seeming to be in a state of shock, "When you
finish that button go back to class and tell the rest of them to go to the
library."  The boy nodded, and picked up the shirt, returning to his task.
"Ariel."
     I looked up from the position I lay in since Mrs. Dee had shoved me
away, "I'm sorry, you need to stay here until the nurse gets in.  You need a
stitch on that cut." She wasn't even looking straight at me, just sort of
talking to the walls.  She saw the nurse's overcoat and snatched it
abruptly, pulling it on.
     "Can I get dressed, Mrs. Dee?" I finally found the nerve to ask as the
delirium of the fusion that had consumed us began to fade.
     She nodded, "Of course."  Then, with a hard look straight at me she
reached under the coat, turned her back to Charles and I and pushed down her
panties.
     Charles and I looked at each other, both wondering what could possibly
happen next as Mrs. Dee buttoned the coat which ended just above the thigh.
Then she took a step towards me, "I'm sorry, Ariel, I didn't mean to hurt
you."
     I realized I was clutching an elbow I'd banged when she threw me away.
Then I realized she was giving me her underwear, "You can't walk around all
day without any panties on."  I just stared at them and she ordered me,
"Take them."
     I snatched them out of her hand and she immediately whirled around so
she wouldn't have to face Charles or me, "I have a pair of pants, I can go
without them." She said, but her voice was shaky as she peered out the
window again, "What's taking him so long."
     Charles dared to offer, "He's probably still drying them."
     Mrs. Dee fixed Charles with a vicious glare, but her expression quickly
softened, "Of course."
     "Ariel, you and I are going to have to talk about this after school."
     I gulped, "I don't think I'll be here, Mrs. Dee."
     "What?  Why not?  You're not thinking of cutting the rest of the day
just because of this are you?"  She was starting to sound like her old self
again.
     I shook my head, but I couldn't bring myself to say any more.
     Charles the Boy Scout, however, had a lot to say, "A couple of JV
players are threatening her if she doesn't go down to the creek with them
during first lunch."
     "What the Hell?"  Mrs. Dee fixed me with a gaze, "Who?"
     I shook my head and slid off the table, "It's nothing."  I didn't want
her help.  My daze was almost faded, but for the arousal which now seemed to
be a chronic state of being for me.  She was the one who had gotten me into
this mess.  I was convinced she'd only make things worse.
     "What do you mean it's nothing?  What are they going to do?"
     I belted on my skirt but refused to answer.  Mrs. Dee looked at
Charles,
     "She said they thought she was blackmailing them, so they're
blackmailing her right back."
     "Blackmail?" Mrs. Dee said, her old stern bitchy voice back with a
vengeance, "For what?" but as she asked me I saw her eyes grow wide.  "Oh, I
see." She said.
     Shit, I thought as I pulled on Muffy's bra, which fortunately I'd kept
in a pocket the whole time.  She thinks I'm a lesbian because of what
happened.  She apparently forgot that I had been fucking Kent when she
walked in.  Perhaps she also wasn't aware that in spite of her beautiful
rack her body had more in common with a man's than most women I knew.
     "Wait, you're not talking about Mitch Stovinsky and Ronnie Wilson, are
you."
     I dropped my jacket on the floor, my jaw following quickly in its
wake.  How did she know?
     "Mmm-Hmmm." Mrs. Dee nodded, "I wouldn't worry about them if I were
you."
     I shook my head.  I could only ask, "Why?"
     She gave another little grin, just for a split second before assuming a
posture of cold, dominating matriarch, "Whoever's blackmailing them
accidentally sent an email to half the school.  Posted a picture of the two
of them on the school's home page."
     I had to force myself to keep the astonished look on my face.
     Mrs. Dee went on, "Seems the two boys are lovers." But with that her
stern expression wavered as her eyes passed over me, nervous anxiety about
our kiss, but it quickly passed as Kent came pounding on the door.
     Mrs. Dee quickly opened the door and pulled the boy in.
     "Sorry I took so long, Mrs. Dee, the dryer-" The boy's throat seemed to
tighten up as Mrs. Dee threw off the lab coat, revealing her bare bottom and
sparse, well-trimmed pubic bush, just a straight line running right down the
center.
     "No reason to gawk, Mr. King," I guessed Kent's last name was King as
Mrs. Dee took her pants from the flabbergasted boy, "I told you you'd be
able to see more of me when you got back."  Was that a hint of irony in her
voice?
     Then she glanced at me, and it was like a sparkle of light gleamed in
her eye and her lip was curled up at the corner.  Was she teasing Kent?
     Almost as if in response the woman remained naked for the moment,
examining her pants as she said to me, "Get dressed, Ariel."
     Charles and Kent were still fixated by her nudity, as was I.  Her
musculature below the waist was every bit as amazing as the rest of her,
rigid definition carved lines below her belly to a pure, pale white patch
surrounding her pubic bone, leading up, around her hips in a thin arc of
untanned skin to a sharp angle that disappeared down the cleft of Mrs. Dee's
amazingly tight butt; Clearly a woman who tanned in a thong.  Her tan was so
dark compared to her natural tone, Mrs. Dee's pubic bush was like a beacon,
a triangle of light focusing on a runway of close-trimmed hair that led down
into her smoothly shaved slit.
     Then the woman turned her back to Kent, who was still dumbstruck, and
fully bent over at the waist.  From my angle I could see little, but I was
too familiar with my own tiny ass to have any doubts about the view Kent was
enjoying, and when Mrs. Dee lifted a leg to put on her pants my suspicions
were confirmed, and a diamond of milky white sex was crowned with the
insanely well developed mahogany muscles of her ass and thighs.  Mrs. Dee
had the most amazing body in the world, and I wanted it.  I wanted that to
be my body when I grew up.
     None of us thought to ask why she was spending so much time in that
position.  The boys clearly wanted it to go on forever, and it seemed to.
When she straightened up, hiking the jeans over her rigid bottom the
tension, which was palpable, seemed to lift from our shoulders and I quickly
pulled on my jacket.  At a stern look and a raised eyebrow from Mrs. Dee I
stepped into her underwear.  Though they made no pretense at fitting to my
skinny thighs and nonexistent butt, the elastic waistband clung nicely, and
that provided a decent fit in the crotch.  I imagined our two sexes gliding
against each other as the faint heat of her arousal met with my own, trapped
in the silky crotch pad.
     Mrs. Dee snatched the shirt from Charles and examined the buttons,
"Excellent." She said.  I had to assume that Charles was either a master
seamster or Mrs. Dee was still far more distracted than she was leading on.
She pulled the shirt on and buttoned it up while we all waited.  As she
tucked in she turned to me, "I will get a nurse to look at your cut, wait
here then go to the library.  I'll see you after...  No, Come to me at first
lunch.  I'll write you a pass."
     Then she leaned down and scribbled something on the Nurse's stack of
hall passes.  She straightened up and said, "Who wants to go see Mr.
Christiansen?"
     The tension level in the room skyrocketed instantly, but none of us so
much as whimpered.
     "Good, then none of this ever happened."  She pulled the door open,
"Boys."  Charles and Kent scampered out the door, Charles giving me sort of
a piteous glance, the schlub, and Kent a wistful one, as if he were longing
for another shot at me, which I was trying to silently promise him.
     "Ariel," Mrs. Dee glared at me as if reading my thoughts.  I met her
gaze.  It was a bit easier now that I had seen her half-naked and losing
control.  She frowned, "Try not to fuck anyone else, okay?"
     I felt my jaw tighten up, but she slammed the door and stomped off with
the boys in tow before I could even think on an appropriate reaction.

     I had locked the door behind them, and found a basin and a bottle of
distilled water and proceeded to give myself a mini bath, concentrating on
my face and hands, and doing a little daubing to get the worst of the
copious amount of semen and juices that were gathered in my folds.  Mrs.
Dee's underwear formed a sort of a fluffy skirt around my skinny butt and
thighs, but it was much, much better than running around without anything,
even if I still wouldn't be able to sit without crossing my legs.
     I discovered a purse in a drawer full of miscellaneous items, which
appeared to be lost and found stuff, and was delighted to not only discover
a brush and make-up kit, but a fair amount of cash, which I stuffed into my
jacket pocket.  It was only about twenty bucks, but I'd need that to get
home, not to mention some food now that I was not only broke, but starving.
     I spent a little time doing my make-up.  The cut on my lip wasn't
visible on the surface, though there was a bruise growing that made my chin
look a little dark just below the lip, and the scar on my temple had scabbed
over and looked fairly clean from Mrs. Dee's treatment.
     I didn't relish the thought of walking around with a fat bandage on my
face, nor that of getting stitches, so I spread a little antibiotic from
these tiny condiment packets on the table and left it at that.
     After brushing my hair and experimenting with the make-up style Chelsea
had plastered me with I decided that I didn't look too bad for a fifteen
year-old multiple rape victim who was about to get gangfucked by the
football team.  I didn't have any illusions that in spite of my apparent
success with the rumor about Mitch and Ronnie, that Bill, and most certainly
Jerry would find a way to come after me, and there were three more guys I
didn't even remember who were evidently queued up to do me too.
     Not that I expected attendance to be high for a chain gang on my body.
I was still Ariel, no matter what happened.  I was still, gangly, had no
ass, and my face, well, let's just say I wasn't going to be on any
billboards for a few years at least.
     But then funny things had been happening since Wade spotted something
about me that made him come on to me (Probably the pink G-string or the fact
that I took him into my house in the buff).  Guys who had never even noticed
me but to remark condescendingly on my hair were going out of their way to
proposition me, and I'd had more male company in the past three days than in
my entire high school career.  I guess there was something about being a
viable piece of ass that made the difference.  Some of the cheerleader
behavior I'd decried in the past started to make a lot more sense if being a
receptacle for jerk cum is your goal.

     The hardest part about third period History was Mike, the really sweet
guy who I'd been so taken with at the dance, but had snubbed to get told off
by my date and speared on Jerry's gargantuan pole.  There was something of a
difference in the way I'd regarded the boy Friday night, a virgin, chaste,
modest, and the girl who had done more than more than ten guys since losing
her virginity three days ago.
     He was still really nice, to be sure, in a normal, plain, sweet sort of
way.  He had heard the rumors of my up and coming orgy, but didn't give any
credit to the rumor.  I didn't encourage him to think differently.  But the
saddest part was that I just wasn't interested in him any more.  He seemed
like exactly the kind of guy I'd normally have loved to have fawning all
over me, say, last Thursday.  It's just that now I wasn't thinking much
about men in terms of actually dating them.  In fact, I would have preferred
it had he been more overtly sexually aggressive, like Kent.
     I made a casual farewell to Mike and dashed like a madwoman for the
locker room.
     Getting in was easy, although a teacher was still taking attendance at
the entrance.  It was my PE class, and I was early enough that some girls
were still getting dressed, so it didn't attract any teacher attention that
I simply crossed the room, ducking down the long aisles of lockers and
slipped out the back entrance.
     I knew seniors used this area for their lunchtime retreat, being able
to slip past the fence the bordered school and smoke in the alley behind the
supermarket, but I didn't know how to get through the fence, nor did I see
any upper classmen around.
     A few minutes of poking around revealed nothing, and just as I was
resolving to try cutting across the parking lot (the only other way out was
across the creek, which didn't seem too savory an option considering what
would be waiting for me there at first lunch) I saw Mr. Schaffer, and had to
duck behind a free standing concrete wall that shielded a set of doors from
view, which I had to assume led to the boy's locker room, since the girls
had the same setup on the other end of the building.
     I wasn't sure what the space back here was supposed to be, though it
made sense that there had once been a field which they'd built the
supermarket on, but I didn't concern myself long with that thought as I
heard footsteps fading away and when I looked Mr. Schaffer was gone.
     I immediately stepped out into the open and started marching back down
to the front of the building.  That was when I heard the locker room door
open and two sets of footsteps walking out.  I ducked behind the wall,
exposed to anyone in the narrow lane, but hidden from the doorway and held
my breath.
     "Now Marly," A deep older man's voice rang out.  It sounded like Mr.
Gold, "I can't have you running in here and throwing accusations around in
front of the students."
     "You said I'd get an A." The voice was female, much younger, probably a
student.  "Not a B, not a C, and not a fucking incomplete!"
     "It was a technical error, I can fix it."
     "I'm not sucking your dick for another two months, Coach."
     "Marly!" Mr. Gold, the football coach's voice was strained in a hush, a
harsh tone pervading, "You don't dictate terms to me."
     "But you said-"
     "Marly!" Mr. Gold's voice rang out, then in a softer voice he said,
"Marly, did you and...  What was his name?"
     "Eric."
     Eric, I thought.  I so much wanted to be with Eric right now.  Alone in
my room, just holding each other.
     "Eric." Mr. Gold was saying, "I didn't report you.  I put Eric on the
first string over boys that would have played much better."
     "Eric's the best goddamned receiver you've got."
     "All I'm saying, dear, is that there was a mistake.  A simple one that
I can fix."
     My heart was thumping hard in my chest.  I didn't want to be
overhearing this conversation.  Coach Gold getting blow jobs from a
student?  So she could get her boyfriend to play?  That's love I guess.  I
screwed up my eyes and tried to think of Eric, my Eric, and how good it had
been to be with someone who so genuinely appreciated me.  Cared about me.
How much I needed someone like him right now, when my blood was boiling and
my body ached for satisfaction, when I felt like I was perpetually on the
run.
     "No, why should I do it now!?"  I heard Marla shouting, and I imagined
Mr. Gold's big, meaty hands on her.
     "I'll take care of it, Marla.  It's been such a long time since you've
come up to my office."
     "Is that what this is about?  You said it was voluntary.  That I could
stop whenever I wanted to."
     "It's not about anything.  I'm just suggesting that rather than
fighting..."
     But I was drifting off.  I was imagining, perversely, Mr. Schaffer
catching me out here, and in return for my favoring him with my body,
helping me out of school and to freedom, taking care of Jerry and Bill, and
whoever else was set out to fuck me.  His image was still fresh in my mind
and I saw his huge, muscular black arms grappling me.  Anything, anything to
get the conversation behind the wall out of my head, where Mr. Gold, the
grotesque ogre of a man spilling over at the beltline with a swollen gut,
his massive muscular chest, those long lean legs and the super tiny shorts
he always wore in PE.
     In spite of myself he had replaced Mr. Schaffer in my fantasy, and
there he was, easily fifty years old, yet groping my little breasts in his
gargantuan hands.  I felt his hand slip under my skirt, stroking my wetness,
god I was so slick, how could I have had so many boys yet be so incredibly
horny still.
     "No, get your fucking hands off of me!" The holler broke through my
reverie and I saw "Marla" stomping away, her back turned, towards the girl's
locker room.  She was a very pretty girl, built enough to be a senior
easily, and I recognized her as one of the cheerleaders who had stepped out
of line in front of me at the dance on Friday.
     Then I saw Mr. Gold step out, and as if he had eyes in the back of his
head he stopped following Marla and whirled on me, his eyes widening at the
sight.
     I didn't hesitate to slam my hand to the side, but I couldn't remember
having hiked up my skirt and stroking myself.  That had been him.  Mr.
Gold.  The man who towered in front of me, and only in my fantasy, hadn't
it?
     "Well, well, well.  Ariel, isn't it?"
     I'd had Mr. Gold my first semester in high school, and though I hadn't
stood out too much when I was a freshman, my present mode of dress made it
hard for people to forget me in a school full of normal kids.  I nodded.
     "Just out for a stroll, are we?"  His words were almost polite, but I
could see him seething with anger, probably from the rejection Marla had
just imposed upon him.
     I shook me head.  I was going to catch the brunt of that anger if I
didn't play my cards right.
     "There's been a lot of talk about you today.  Did you know that?'
     I looked up at the menacing man.  If the whole school new about
Ronnie's plan, then it didn't seem too improbable that the Coach did too.
     I shrugged, electing to remain silent.
     Mr. Gold's eyes strolled up and down the length of my body, and I had
to force myself not to hike down my skirt a little and pull the jacket so I
might cover just a bit more skin.
     "Yes, well."  He said stepping up to me and putting a rough hand on my
arm, "In my office, we can't have students cutting class now."
     Suddenly I became desperate, "Please Mr. Gold, I can't go back there,
they won't stop.  They want to...  They want to..."
     The man just glared at me, "Ariel, I've been teaching for over twenty
years and I have heard every excuse in the book.  Now, I've got a lot of
work to do and I don't have time to listen to any more."
     Though his voice had remained calm he started steering me with a rough
hand, and to my astonishment, right through the doors into the boy's locker
room.
     The smell of stale sweat was the first thing to hit me, but then I saw
the bodies.  Dozens of boys strolling around in their underwear, their lean
angular bodies pale, tan, dark, light, black, beautiful, ugly, fat, skinny,
and all of them frozen, watching me as Mr. Gold dragged me between them.
     I tried not to stare at the good-looking ones, the ones I knew, the
one's I'd like to get to know.  I could hardly help but mark the peculiar
lack of embarrassment I was experiencing.  Rather I was almost enjoying
myself.  It was like dragging a starving woman into a slaughterhouse.  Pick
your cut.
     By the time Mr. Gold threw me down in a chair in his office and slammed
the door I might as well have been dosed up with coke I was feeling so
high.  So many boys.  So many half-naked bodies.  Imagine getting to fuck
all of them.
     "When you're done deciding which student you like most, Ariel, we can
discuss your detention."
     That snapped me out.  It was like he was reading my mind, and I
realized that I hadn't pulled my eyes from with window, a large picture
window which gave a good view of the many boys getting dressed as the office
was elevated a good three feet.
     I looked him over, settling down behind his large wooden desk,
cluttered with football medals, a computer monitor, a bunch of paperwork,
and not a few PE uniforms in neat plastic wrap.  "Sorry."  I said meekly,
looking at the floor, trying to forget the bulge I'd seen sticking out of
his short shorts as he'd sat down.
     "So, Ariel, you have yet to try to explain why you were out of bounds
masturbating behind the boy's locker room."
     I felt my face flush with heat.  How could I possibly explain something
I'd barely been aware of doing.
     "If you'd prefer I could consult with your parents.  Maybe they could
shed some light here."
     "No!" I actually cried out, and then forcing myself to control my voice
I said, "Mr. Gold, I was just...  Some of the boys...  Like you said..."  I was
struggling for the words, but Mr. Gold, it appeared had indeed hear the
rumors,
     "Some of the boys are going to have a little fun with you at lunch,
right?'
     I nodded, feeling my hands shaking and wrapped my arms around me.
     "And this isn't something, I take it, that you're looking forward too."
     I found myself scowling at him as I shook my head.
     "And when you're invited to an orgy you don't want to attend this is
how you dress?"
     I couldn't push that scowl away, "Mitch Stovinsky tore my skirt off,
Mr. Gold."
     "Ahh, Mitch.  Promising young athlete."
     I refrained from giving him my opinion.
     "Look, Ariel, it's really quite simple."  Mr. Gold crossed in front of
the desk and leaned against the edge of it right in front of me.  He was
gigantic there, towering over me like that.  I felt like a little gnome
under his overbearing presence.  He let a hand fall on my shoulder, its
weight oppressive, heavy, like a steel glove have been dropped on my back,
"These boys don't want to hurt you," he said, "They just want to have fun."
     I started to protest but he waved me to silence, "Look dear, you stand
up to them.  Tell them you don't want to do this." He shook his head
silencing another protest, "Someone will defend you dear.  Six or seven guys
are not going to stand idly by while you scream for help."
     His thick, meaty hand was kneading my shoulder, giving me these coarse,
encouraging rubs and squeezes which made me even more uncomfortable than had
he just left me alone, and the weight seemed to be pushing me down, where I
found my face level with Mr. Gold's bulging shorts.  Was he getting hard?
     I forced myself to look away. "It's not that simple," I said.
     Mr. Gold put a hand under my chin and forced me to look up at him, "I
don't suppose that that's got something to do with you masturbating outside
the boy's locker room?"
     Blushing furiously I pushed his hand away and looked down again, but
the contact with his rough, heavy hand sent a shiver through me, as if the
bubbling hormones wracking my body with the desperate urge for release were
clamoring me to hold on.  As if I could fuck this beast of a man.  He'd
crush me to death.  He was as big as Jesus had been, but all muscle save his
swollen gut sticking out over his waistband.
     "Ariel," Mr. Gold said, "If you don't think you can say no then what's
the problem?"
     I couldn't answer him.  I really didn't have a way to explain how
desperately I wanted to have my release, just not with his football team.
All I could think to say was, "It's degrading.  All those boys."
     "Then the solution is easy, Ariel." I looked up at his grinning face,
looking down at me as if he were about to bestow on me a boon, the answer to
all my problems, but it was easy to read his mind,
     "Don't you think I haven't tried that?"
     His grin faded and an eyebrow arched up, "You mean...?"
     I was provoked, frustrated, angry. "I've been trying all day, but I've
got classes!  Every time I get alone with a boy a teacher walks in!"  I
forced myself to shut up before I incriminated myself further.  I tried not
to think about Mrs. Dee and her incredibly tight, firm body pressed against
mine.  Her solid thighs pressed into my crotch, her soft bra caressing my
nipples, Kent's hard cock in my sex, Jerry's member exploding in my face.
     Mr. Gold stared at me for a long time after that before saying, "Yes,
well, I have to get to class, and though I should be giving you detention,
at least," he emphasized the severity of my infraction, "I'm not going to so
long as you get yourself to class."
     I nodded, feeling defeat.
     "Here, you don't have time to go back to the girls locker room and I
don't have time to wait for you, so you can change into one of these."
     He handed me a shrink-wrapped PE uniform.  "It's okay," I protested,
"I've got a uniform in the locker room."
     "No, Ariel, I am going to personally escort you to class and explain to
your teacher that I kept you from going out on time."
     I glanced out the window.  Only a few boys remained.  A clock on the
wall revealed that in spite of the long break between third and fourth
period, I was already late for line-up in the field.
     I took the uniform, "Where do you want me to change?"
     He got up and crossed behind the desk, acting as if her were distracted
by some paperwork, "You can change here, I'll wait."
     I swallowed, "In f-front of you?"
     "If you'd prefer I can page Mr. Schaffer and have him escort you to the
office."
     I contemplated that for a minute.  Would getting busted for cutting
class really be worse than what might happen to me stripping down in the
boy's locker room?  In Mr. Gold's office?  A week ago I'd have definitely
chosen to be busted, but right then and there I was fighting the conflicting
emotions of wanting to run in terror, and to find out what kind of sexual
escapade this might lead to.  It wasn't as if I hadn't been subjected to
much worse, and in much more dangerous situations.  It couldn't possibly be
as bad as submitting to the judgment of Jerry and his friends outside at the
creek.
     Before I'd even rationalized it out I found myself unbuttoning my
jacket, pulling it open and undoing its belt.  As I did this I watched Mr.
Gold walk to the office door and open it, calling out, "Marco, come up here
please."
     I pulled the jacket tight as a tall, slender black man, Marco the
school janitor came ambling up the steps, following Mr. Gold back into the
office.  Marco was even older than Mr. Gold, his hair graying, his hands dry
and cracked, "Marco I have to go take roll and get my class started, would
you get Ariel here changed?  I'll be back in a few minutes."
     "Certainly Mr. Gold." Marco said, leering at me.
     "I appreciate your helping me out with the situation last week."
     "It was nothing, Mr. Gold." The slavering man was penitent to a fault
with the big coach.
     Mr. Gold fixed me with a stern gaze, yet there was something of a grin
on his face, "I expect you to be in uniform when I get back."  He glanced at
Marco, who was slowly approaching me, his eyes pouring over the contours of
my bare legs, "Or at least undressed.  Understand?"
     Completely, I thought, but I only nodded and let the jacket slip off my
shoulders.  Mr. Gold owed Marco a favor, and in return for not being
punished, I was going to be that favor.
     Marco was almost as repulsive as Mr. Gold in the opposite direction.
Lanky, bony, ugly with great big saliva-coated lips, his eyes bloodshot, and
he smelled like the trash he picked up.  I quickly regretted my decision not
to go to the office, but puckered up, figuring that if he fucked me I could
at least shut my eyes and imagine Kent, or someone else.  Who knows, he
might even make me come, and the satisfaction might make it possible for me
to exploit the damage I'd done to Mitch and Ronnie without being totally at
the mercy of my desperately horny body.
     So Marco didn't even have to ask.  I unhooked the bra and let it fall
to the floor.
     "You are a very pretty girl, little Ariel."  Marco was very close to
seven feet tall, really a giant, just very skinny, almost like me though
broader.  I unpinned the skirt without responding to his comment, and pushed
it down with my underwear so I was naked.
     Fortunately he was so tall that as I approached Marco I didn't have to
look at his ugly, leering face.  His waist was well up past my belly, so
managing his belt buckle and zipper was no problem at all, though he just
stood there, as if frozen.
     I dared a glance up at the man and saw him staring down at me,
wide-eyed, his mouth open, as if in shock.
     "What's the matter?" I asked weakly as I tugged his pants down to
reveal his plaid boxers.
     He shook his head, "You're just so young, I mean...  Mr. Gold'll be back
in a minute."
     I nodded my head, "I know." And with that I pulled down his boxers
revealing the saggiest cock and ball set I'd ever seen.  All the other boys
I'd been with, barring Jesus who I couldn't see at all, were tight, firm,
rigid.  Marco on the other hand seemed to descend several inches before his
penis and testicles filled out his loins.
     His cock was pretty thick, and I feared it would swell up like Pierre's
had, but as I gently stroked it I found it only became more rigid, rather
than swelling up like a younger man's.
     When it was hard, or almost hard, I guided the janitor over to the desk
and hopped up on it, laying back on a pile of PE uniforms and spreading my
legs.
     Marco didn't need any more guidance, and he found my glistening sex
eager to embrace his handsome shaft, even as visions of Jerry filled my
mind, his pendulous penis hovering over me while Marco pummeled me with a
cock half that size, filling me up nonetheless as sparks of pleasure
exploded all around me and I was gasping and moaning in spite of the initial
shock of pain as the fat headed member pushed into me.
     "I just need a couple minutes sweetie." Marco grunted as he thrust his
member inside me, flooding me with impatience for the selfishness of men.
Nevertheless I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him tighter inside me,
wrenching my eyes shut as his rough hands grabbed my tits, trying to milk
him for every bit of pleasure I could before he shot his load and left me
hanging dry.
     Absently I found myself licking my lip and wondering where my labret
was, before remembering that Jerry had it in his pocket, and for a while
there I was able to imagine his thing in my mouth, Bill pummeling me instead
of the ugly old janitor, and real pleasure started to envelop me as I took
hold of the old man's hip and pulled him against me, grinding and moaning as
he bent over to suckle at my nipples, his face scratchy and rough, but his
lips soft and pliant on my hard nipples.
     Those couple of minutes started to drag on, and even my propensity for
fantasizing was challenged when the gasping janitor would say things like,
"Oh, miss, you are the tiniest little girl I ever seen." Or "Whew!  I ain't
as young as I used to be." Whenever he had to slow down to catch his breath.
     Still, it was with great amazement that I saw that the clock had gone
halfway around when Marco finally came.  In fifteen minutes the lunch bell
would ring and I was still in the boy's locker room.  I had been counting
ceiling tiles for the past ten minutes, just waiting for the old fuck to
finish.  Just like his relentless half-hearted pounding, his orgasm seemed
to go on and on and on, and all I could do was hold my legs apart while the
plastic wrap of unopened uniforms stuck to my back and let the bastard
unload his seed inside of me.
     But finally the old codger let his limp, flopping penis slide out of me
(how I stayed wet so long I don't know) and patted me on the tummy, "You,
little girl, whew!  You're a lotta work." But he grinned as he buckled up,
"Now I gotta go scrub up the bathroom, boys always pissin' all over
everything.  Maybe I'll see you around."
     Mr. Gold was standing in the doorway to let his friend out.  I don't
know how long he'd been waiting there, but he had a book, some cheap science
fiction paperback from the look of it, held open in front of him as he bit
his friend goodbye.
     A sat up, waiting for something, I don't know what.  Perhaps
instructions as to what to do next.
     Mr. Gold walked in and looked me over, "Well, I told your teacher that
you'd had a fall and I sent you to the nurse, but she's still expecting you,
so you better hustle.
     My mouth fell open.  He expected me just to rush off to class after
fucking his pal to return a favor.
     He seemed to take that the wrong way, "Look, Ariel, don't think I'm
going to be tempted by that skinny little ass of yours, now I haven't got
time to wait, in five minutes this room will be full of guys getting dressed
and I can't have you in here like this.
     He grabbed my arm and dragged me to my feet, pushing me to the door,
     "Wait, what about my shit?"
     He reached inside an open box by the door and pulled out a shrink-wrap
package, "I said to take a uniform, damnit."  He was starting to shout, but
he was also kicking me out of his office stark naked.  There didn't seem to
be anyone in the locker rooms, but I knew that it was just as likely that
any number of people could be hidden in the rows of lockers.
     "What about my clothes?" I demanded.
     Mr. Gold actually seemed to listen this time, and glanced around his
office, but where my jacket was on a chair, my bra was nowhere to be seen,
the skirt across the room, the panties on the floor, "After class." Was all
he said and with a shove I was thrown out of his office, and the door shut
behind me as I stumbled down the steps.
     I quickly tore the shrink-wrap off of the package he had given me and
was seriously pissed to find that its contents were a pair of track shorts
and nothing else.
     Mr. Gold refused to open the door again, and from what I could see over
the high windows must have been hiding because he was nowhere to be seen at
all.
     I hastily stepped into the shorts, which must have been made for
infants with their slit sides and tight butt.  Even on me these things were
obscenely small, but I remembered the number of times I'd made the same
remark watching people running down the street and at the Olympics on TV.  I
had to assume they were the right size, but that didn't do much to comfort
me since I was totally topless and had nothing going for me at the moment
but fifteen minutes to get gangraped.
     I made the instant decision to make for the back door and to get my ass
into the girl's locker room.  Getting caught in there wasn't nearly as bad
as in here, and I knew there was a lost and found bin where I could steal a
shirt.
     Unfortunately as soon as I rounded the first bank of lockers I cam face
to face with Alan, who was nursing a bad bruise on his elbow, dressed in his
own PE uniform.
     I threw my hands up over my chest, but not before he had gotten a good
look at me.
     "Ariel?"
     "Hey Alan." I tried to shrug.  I had been with so many men that I ought
not to have had any shame left, but having Alan catch me like that after the
way things had worked out at the dance left me feeling vulnerable and, yes,
ashamed.
     "The fuck are you doing?"
     "I need a shirt, Alan."
     His face quickly darkened, memories of the argument we'd had surfacing
on his badly bruised ego, "Why should I help you?"
     "Please, Alan." I pleaded.
     "You gonna tell me what really happened at the dance?"
     I was looking around, terrified someone might walk in, "Please, Alan,
not right now.  I have to get out of here."
     He shrugged, as callous to my predicament as he had been shocked to see
me minutes ago, "What do I get out of it."
     I swallowed, and forced myself to put my arms down, "What do you want,
Alan?"
     He took a step back, "Well I ain't gonna fuck you, if that's what
you're thinking." But he was clearly having trouble peeling his eyes away
from my bare chest.
     "Please, I just need a shirt."  I could feel myself starting to cry.
Having sex with strangers was one thing, insulating yourself behind the
veils of pleasure did a pretty good job of inoculating me to the degeneracy
of my actions, but getting caught at it in from of someone I knew, and had
even liked was a whole different animal.  I realized very suddenly that I
was just on the verge of breaking down right then and there.
     If Alan noticed this he didn't show it, "I give you my shirt so you can
run off and fuck your jock boyfriends, right?"
     I shook my head, talking fast and advancing on the boy, "What do you
want Alan?  Sex?  Sure.  You want a blow job?  Whatever.  I'm cool with it."
     I reached out and grabbed him by the shirt, hauling him up to me, "But
right now I'm half naked in the boy's locker room and the bell's about to
ring, Alan, I need your shirt!"
     Alan was dumbfounded and very taken aback, totally intimidated by me,
he even forgot to look at my breasts, which doubtlessly jiggled and bounced
seductively as I had my tantrum.  The boy stared into my eyes for a long
time, then finally said, "All I wanted was a kiss, Ariel."
     He said it so quietly, so meekly, and knowing Alan I knew he was
totally sincere.  I couldn't help but start crying and laughing together as
I threw my arms around the boy and sobbed into his shoulder.  I felt
reluctant hands tenderly embracing me, touching the bare flash of my back
and I pulled my head up and saw he was laughing too, nervous and
uncomfortable, but clearly joining my side in those moments that I broke
down, almost relieved to see that some of the ice had been broken, "I'm
sorry." He said, his eyes glassy, while I freed a hand to wipe the tears
from my eyes.
     "Shut up," I said as I kissed him, opening my mouth on his and guiding
his lips over mine as our embrace grew tighter.
     It might have been a pretty good kiss if Ronnie and Mitch hadn't shown
up at just that moment.

     I fell onto the rough, dry grass of the back alley behind the locker
rooms after Mitch shoved me out the door, his face full of rage, and a nasty
welt rising beside his right eye.  He had been no gentler with me than
Ronnie had been with Alan, punching him in the gut and dragging him off
while Mitch hauled me outside.
     Unlike the rest of the school the boys had no doubt as to who the
author of the email had been, and Mitch was swearing to beat the living shit
out of me as he kicked me hard in the ribs and I coiled up in a ball,
preparing for the worst.
     But the worst was yet to come.
     Mitch hadn't noticed the trio of seniors climbing through the hole in
the fence I hadn't been able to find, and he was quickly subdued, none too
lightly, while another of the seniors got me too my feet.  The big guy tried
to cover me with his arms, but I was trembling with fear and wouldn't be
sheltered, instead running up to the concrete wall and clutching my arms to
my chest while willing the ache in my ribs to go away.
     Mitch was trying to explain himself as the two seniors, both in varsity
letterman jackets started working him over, "The bitch is trying to
blackmail me!  She said I was a fag."
     "Aren't you?" the largest of the bunch, a healthy, handsome black guy
whose name I couldn't recall but I readily recognized as the senior class
president.
     The other guy, an equally handsome white guy sucker punched Mitch, who
just took it, not willing to try to fight the two larger boys, "Fuck no.
She lost a bet and she's trying to weasel out of it."
     "I saw the picture.  We all did." The class president said, his eyes
seeming to glow white from the dark skin of his face as he lashed out a weak
punch which took Mitch in the jaw, but only made the boy's head roll.
     "It's not me!"  Mitch cried.  "The fucking slut set us up!"
     The guy who had tried to help me put himself in between Mitch and
myself, protecting me from the boy who was glaring at me with such malice.
"Don't call her that, fag."
     There wasn't much I could say for my champion, but at least he was
trying to defend me.
     Mitch, however, wasn't going to back down, it seemed, no matter how
many times he got hit, "She's a total whore.  Dude, she fucked me and Ronnie
this morning, and Bones yesterday.  She'll fuck anything that walks!"
     True enough, I had to consider.
     The class president wasn't any more satisfied with that argument than I
was, however, and gave Mitch a hard punch right in the gut, "That doesn't
mean you go around hitting girls!" Then in spite of his own violence he
stopped his friend from kicking Mitch as he crumpled to the ground and
beckoned in my direction.
     I tried to huddle behind my dim protector, but he didn't seem eager to
argue with the bigger jock and stepped out of my way.
     "Come on, girl," the class president said, "I won't hurt you."
     Reluctantly I took a few steps towards him, circling to keep a good
distance between Mitch and myself, clutching my hands hard around me to hide
my breasts.
     "Is what he says true?"
     I shook my head, lying, but I had no reason to trust that they'd help
me if they knew what a huge slut I had become.  People didn't seem to have a
lot of respect for girls who put out, especially guys.
     "Bullshit." Mitch muttered weakly, trying to sit up but obviously
having trouble breathing.
     "You suck dick, Mitch?"
     "Fuck no." the boy groaned.
     The class president shrugged, "Don't make no difference to me, why not
just admit it?"
     "I ain't a fag."  Mitch held up a finger, "I fucked that little whore.
I'll fucking do it again, you bitch."
     Mitch lunged to his feet and looked as if he were going to spring on
me, but the class president's friend held him back, slamming Mitch against
the concrete wall while I scampered back into the arms of my varsity
protector.  This time I didn't try to throw him off, and only took a moment
to regard the thick, muscular arms and the swollen belly cradling me.
     "That fucking bitch fucks her own brother-!"  I didn't see it, but I
heard the snap, and the sound of a body smashing to the ground.
     "Get her out of here," I heard the president say, and another thud and
Mitch moaned, loud.
     "Where's your clothes?"  The chubby man holding me asked.
     "M-Mr. Gold's office." I whimpered

     Alan was nowhere to be seen in the locker room, nor was Ronnie, who
probably heard the trouble his friend was in and took off.  The jock, John
was his name, made a pretty good show of getting my clothes back, telling
Mr. Gold that some guys had thrown my clothes in there as a joke.  Mr. Gold
eyeing me coldly seemed nevertheless satisfied that I hadn't revealed the
truth, and quickly assembled my outfit in a bundle and let me get dressed in
his office while he and John waited outside.  No one tried to touch or
molest me.  Not once.  It didn't make the shame go away, but it was nice.
     I came out just as the bell rang and PE students started pouring into
the locker room, and John led me out the front entrance.
     He insisted on escorting me to my next class, knowing that Ronnie was
involved with Mitch and worried that I'd need to be guarded.  I figured I'd
play along, since I now had a pass to show to my teacher, which Mrs. Dee had
written out.  I didn't think it would hurt to have an excuse so I'd only get
busted for missing two classes instead of three.  I had one route out of
school now, and that was through the parking lot.  That was quickly stifled
when my next teacher gave me a green slip sending me to the vice principals
office, with no explanation.
     That was certainly safer than anywhere else on campus, but I was in no
mood, shaken and worried as I was to be dealing with whatever the hell of
the numerous things I had done I was getting into trouble over.
     Naturally John had to escort me there, it was simply Mrs. Dee waiting
for me, not the VP.  She hadn't really trusted me to show up at her class
     As I regarded the stern bitch that escorted me out of the admin offices
I caught myself imagining her undressed again.  Completely unlike the
hostile cunt image she shoved down everyone's throat, she held hidden
wonders under her clothes that could only be imagined by the bulk of her
students.
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