"Arms like this," Ms. Carte says, holding her hands up to indicate. You follow orders. Ms. Carte slides a hand under her stool and presses a button. Suddenly your hands and legs are trapped in metal braces.
"I'm sorry," she says, putting down the needle as you struggle helplessly. "It's really not a blood sample I need... this is awful, but... I'll make sure it feels good, all right?"
Ms. Carte slowly unbuckles your belt and pulls down your pants. "Unhand me!" is all you can manage.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" is all Ms. Carte can manage, and it's maybe to her credit that she seems genuinely remorseful.
She tugs your jeans down so they're bunched up around your ankles, leaving you only in your boxers.
"Do you want to keep those on or off?" she asks tenderly. "I'll let you decide."
"I want all my clothes back on!" you hiss.
"I'm sorry, but you really have no choice--" Ms. Carte stops, interrupted by a sudden commotion outside. You hear thudding, then what sounds like Spancer shrieking in a high pitched voice.
"Oh God," Ms. Carte says, gulping.
The door opens. Spancer is lying in a bloodied heap in the hallway, crying. Standing in the threshold is Vivian.
Ms. Carte reacts instantly, grabbing the hypodermic needle and charging Vivian. Vivian throws up one hand and deflects the attack. She grabs Ms. Carte and slams her to the floor. She leans over before Ms. Carte can get up and pinches a nerve in her neck. Ms. Carte goes out like a light.
Standing, Vivian walks over to you.
"Don't you dare," you say. "Don't you dare!"
"Alabaster Soliloquy, I just want to save you. I want to make you the man you were three years ago. I want you to live up to the promise of what you can be."
"Don't you dare!" you repeat as she draws closer.
But something else stops her short. You hear the click of heels rapidly approaching. Vivian turns around to see Rose standing in the doorway. Rose leaps forward and smacks Vivian savagely with her clipboard, knocking her back.
As Vivian gains her bearings again, Rose pulls a rag from her blouse pocket and intercepts Vivian's charge by holding the rag to Vivian's face. Vivian's eyes bulge with indignation and shock, then the lids droop as she passes out.
Rose steps aside and lets Vivian fall to the ground with a wet thunk.
"Goodness," Rose says, straightening her blouse and surveying the three unconscious bodies in the vicinity. She looks over at you. "What strange things you get into."
You stare at her in disbelief.
"I think we're alone now?" Rose says.
"I need help," you plead, half-incoherent. "Please. Get me out of here."
"Oh, sure. Sure thing," Rose says. "I'll get right on that, Alabaster. Don't worry." She comes close. Somehow you don't think she intends to help.
Rose watches you intently before seeming to decide something. She swings her legs across your chest, straddling you, butt to belly. She leans against your solar plexus with balled-up fists so she can stare down her nose at you. Her weight on top of you makes it hard to breathe. Your lungs feel constricted.
"Are you feeling all right?" she asks with false concern. She speaks as if this is the most normal conversation in the world. "Are you being bullied? I take bullying very seriously."
"Get off of me," you wheeze, growing panicked as your shallow breaths fail to supply enough oxygen.
"If you want to lodge a complaint, rest assured you will remain completely anonymous."
For reasons you can't fathom, Rose kicks off first one heel then the other, leaving her feet clad in only long black stockings.
"You're a victim, aren't you?" Rose asks, stroking your cheek. You shake your head no.
"So traumatized that you can't even admit it," she says, grinning. "That's hot."
"What?"
"You're the biggest loser I've ever seen," she says. "Even by your own admission you're a loser." She laughs cruelly as you think back to your words at the review panel. It's true: you called yourself a loser.
"Bullied by a little girl, tied down by your own teacher..." Rose bows her head down and nips at your cheek. "...Letting your dyke friend force you to cum in the library..." You wince. "You're absolutely pathetic, Alabaster."
Rose sits up and pulls her feet onto the table. Leaning back and bracing herself against either edge, she brings her knees together and smashes the soles of her feet into your face. The acrid reek of well-worn socks invades your brain and makes your vision blur.
"Stopfff," you try to protest, your speech almost indistinguishable from a wordless grunt.
"Make me," she says, her voice low with triumph. She kneads her toes like she's using her feet to roll out dough. Whole droplets of grimy sweat ooze from the fabric, smearing all over your forehead, cheeks, lips, and chin.
You pull at your restraints, but can't free yourself. Rose reaches back and fondles you through your boxers. Inevitably, your body responds.
"You're a fucking pig," Rose coos. "Getting an erection from something so sick. No wonder you're a victim. You're so cute when you're being victimized."
In the brief glimpses of her that you catch in between the soles of her feet as she smashes them against your face, you see that Rose has a hand snaked under her skirt. You can feel her wetness dripping onto your chest.
She stops, pulling her feet away. You gasp for fresh air, face slick with sweat.
"Why," you ask. "For the love of Christ."
Rose is lost in her own world now. She spins around to look down at your tented boxers. She pokes and prods at it with her toes, giggling. "What a nasty thing," she says. "To carry something like that around all day-- it's indecent..." she's babbling now. Not good.
Rose hikes her skirt up as she leans forward. Her puckered bud and her sopping pussy are all you can see. "Look at my asshole while I rape you with my mouth," she moans.
She frees your cock and wraps it between her plump lips, moaning wantonly. She sucks, dragging her tongue across its length a few times, before pulling back.
"I love this," she breathes. "I love doing this to you." She lies flat on her belly and puts her feet in your face again. "Are you looking at my asshole? You fucking little worm..."
You shake you head and whine.
"I want to traumatize you," she says. "I want you to be triggered every time you see a pair of socks..."
She takes your entire length into the recesses of her throat now, gagging herself. Her viscous drool runs all over your balls as she fondles them with dainty fingers. The heat is unbelievable and the sounds coming from her mouth sound barely human. All the while she jabs her filthy feet directly into your nose. You pull and strain at your shackles, but it's no use.
You feel the familiar thrill in your gut -- but when your balls tense up in Rose's hand, she stops immediately. She pulls herself off of you and stands.
You feel actual pain coursing through you. "I-I didn't finish," you complain.
"I know," Rose says as if you're mentally challenged.. "Why would I let you finish? That's disgusting. Men are garbage. I don't want to see your filthy cum anywhere near me."
You moan and let your head fall back onto the table with a thud. Rose grabs hold of Vivian by the arms and drags her out into the hallway. Ms. Carte follows.
The idea you had put on hold the other day comes back to you.
"Now, if I release you... you can't rape me, of course. That would be a crime. The authorities take rape very seriously..."
You nod sullenly.
"Where is the release mechanism?" she asks.
"Under the chair."
"I like you, Alabaster. And I know if I tell you to come to the band room after school tomorrow, you'll come, right? Even though you know I'm going to rape you again. Because I have all the power. Right?"
"Of course."
She releases you.
You gather your clothes and limp away, stepping over the unconscious bodies in the hallway. She winks as you go. "I'm going to have so much paperwork over this mess..." she sighs.
As you leave, your erection is throbbing and you have one thought on your mind.
Whitney is right where you expected her to be: sitting under the bleachers by the soccer field, cooling off from practice in the shade.
"Jerk," she grumbles as you approach, turning away from you in a huff.
You stand over her. Looking up, she says: "Where have you been? Huh? All day, I wait for you and--"
You grab her by the shoulders and pull her to the ground, turning her on her side. Whitney goes bug-eyed as you pull at the waistband of her spats.
"Ally, what are you doing?"
She gasps as you pull your dick out and press it against the warmth of her sweaty body. "Ally... Ally, is that you?" You bite her neck and drive yourself home to the hilt. Whitney makes a shuddering gasp.
"We can't do this out here--" Whitney protests.
"Why not?" you ask with plain disinterest as you establish a steady pace inside of her.
"We're outside, you fucking ass! People might see--"
"You didn't care about that in the motel, you say." You smash your hipbone against her ass as you fuck into her deepest parts. "You didn't care in the library." You slam into her again.
Whitney claws at the grass in front of her, her muscles flexing, as if half of her wants to pull away and half wants to stay with you. Her inner walls contract around your dick in tune with your fucking.
"Ally, stop-- stop--"
"I'm going to cum," you say.
Whitney tenses up. She spins her head to look back at you with panic in her eyes. "Wait! I'm out of money-- I can't afford another morning after pill--"
You sit upright, pulling her into your lap so that she's facing you. You grab her by the waist and fuck her up and down on your shaft like she's just an onahole. You kiss her deeply -- she wraps her legs around your torso and her arms around your neck even as she whines and pleads for you to stop.
"Please don't, not today," Whitney says, fucking back onto you.
You stop. She looks at you in surprise.
"You don't want me to cum inside," you say flatly.
Whitney shakes her head. "You can finish-- just not inside."
You lift her hips up and jam her back on your cock, just once, and hard. She shivers as you hold her still again.
"So I can only cum inside you when you decide you want to rape me."
"That isn't it..." she wags herself on your cock, frustrated at the lack of motion, her wetness seeping over you. She squirms her hips in your lap and claws at your back helplessly.
"Well," you say. "This is where I want to cum. So fucking deal with it."
You tighten your grip and hammer her as hard as you can. She throws her head back and lets it happen, tongue lolling out. She goes limp in your arms and you blow your cum directly into her womb. Whitney cries out, in exhilaration and despair.
As you lie in the cool grass, panting and still mated together, you nuzzle her.
"You're an asshole," Whitney coos as your juices pool between you.
"Mmhmm," you say, trailing kisses up and down her shoulders, neck, and face.
"There's no way you didn't fuck me pregnant just now..."
"Mmmhmm."
"I can't wait to do this with Cerise," Whitney says. You feel her cunt contract around you at those words.
You stop your nuzzling her, grab her chin in hand and turn her face to look her in the eye.
"What do you think of Rose Mallory?" you ask.
"Hmm? Kind of a bitch," Whitney says airly.
"Do you think she's hot?"
"Oh, yeah. Too bad she's got a stick the size of Texas up her ass."
"Let's fuck her," you say.
This is the moment of truth. Is Whitney going to reject your proposal?
Whitney stares at you. Her eyes glimmer. Slowly, a grin spreads across her lips. "But-- what if she doesn't want to?"
"What if she doesn't?" you ask in a way that suggests: "who cares?"
Whitney sighs. She contracts around you again. "Ally, I didn't know you were..." she loses the train of thought and instead kisses you deeply. Pulling back, a strand of saliva between you, she says: "That's so fucking hot. If that's what you want, that's what I want. Let's fuck Rose Mallory."
You feel yourself hardening again and decide on a second round with Whitney before you go home.
If you're going to die, you may as well enjoy what time you have left. Let Vivian, Ms. Carte, David Darkbloom do whatever they want. You've already won.