"Five, six, seve!" I cp my hands sharply, my voice carrying across the gym with practiced authority. "Jessica, your extension is sloppy. Tiffany, higher on the kick. Amber, spot Chelsea on the back handspring."

  The Westke High gymnasium echoes with the squeaking of cheer shoes against polished wood and the rhythmic g of the routine. Everything is normal. Everything is fine.

  Except it's not.

  I feel it—the subtle shift imosphere, the microscopic cracks in my social foundation spreading like ice fracturing uoo much weight. The girls are following my instrus, but there's a half-sed dey, a barely perceptible hesitation that wasn't there a week ago.

  "Again!" I and, f extra authority into my voice. "Pyramid formation!"

  They move into position, the base girls croug as Chelsea and Megan prepare to climb. I take my usual spot at the ter base, pnting my feet in a perfect squat, arms ready in position. There's a moment—brief but unmistakable—where Jessices at Amber before stepping into pce beside me.

  That ghat fug GLANCE.

  A week ago, no one would have dared that silent question: "Do we still follow her?"

  My thighs tremble slightly as Chelsea steps onto my interlocked arms, a weakness I've never experienced before. I tighten my core, stabilizing myself, but something feels... different. My ter of gravity seems slightly off, my bance just a fra less perfect than it used to be.

  "Steady!" I bark as the pyramid takes shape, Tiffany climbing to the top.

  I'm acutely aware of how my body feels in my cheer uniform—the way the pleated skirt seems to sit differently on my hips, how the top feels tighter ay chest. The spandex shorts underh my skirt are creeping up, creating what feels like a visible camel toe that I 't adjust while supp the pyramid.

  "Westke Wolves, HOWL AT THE MOON!" I lead the t, my voice stroe the interhquake threatening to shatter my carefully structed world.

  As we hold the formation, I catch sight of our refle in the wall of mirrors. My hair is in its usual high ponytail with the perfect blue-and-white ribbon, my makeup fwless as always. But something about my body looks... riper.

  "And DOWN!" I call, guiding Tiffany's dismount with precision.

  As the pyramid disbands, I hear it—the first audible cra my kingdom. Megan whispers something to Tiffany, both of them gng at me before dissolving into stifled giggles.

  "Something funny you'd like to share with the squad?" I ask, hands on my hips, one eyebrow perfectly arched.

  "Nothing," Megan says, eyes wide with fake innoce. "Just talking about the routine."

  "Then focus that energy on your sloppy toe touch," I snap, turning to address the whole squad. "Water break, two mihen we're running the petition sequence!"

  The girls disperse toward the bleachers where their water bottles wait, clustering in small groups that seem more deliberate than usual. I grab my Stanley mug, taking a long drink while pretending not to notice the furtive gnces and whispered versations.

  Amber approaches, her face a mixture of and disfort. "Hey, you okay? You seem a little off today."

  "I'm fine," I reply automatically, but then catch myself. This is Amber, my actual friend, not just another minion. "Just tired. Haven't been sleeping great."

  "Because of the Chad thing?" she asks, l her voice.

  The Chad thing. Is that what we're calling my spontaneous text-message breakup with Westke's star quarterback after skipping our date to get railed by the school's resident otaku? The plete demolition of my social castle's erstone?

  "I'm over it," I say dismissively, taking another sip of water. "It wasn't w anyway."

  Amber gives me a look that says she doesn't believe me but is too loyal to press further. "Well, everyone's kind of talking about—"

  The gym doors bang open, cutting her off mid-sentence. And because the universe apparently wants to teach me a lesson in ic humiliation, in walks the football team. Led by her than Chad Thompson himself, all six feet of chiseled orthodontist-perfected jaw and carefully tousled hair.

  "Oh shit," Amber whispers, her eyes dartiween Chad and me.

  I straighten my spine, lifting my to its standard queen-bee angle. "It's fine," I say, my voice carefully trolled. "We share practice space all the time."

  Except it's not fine, because trailing slightly behind the guys is Jessica Porter, her copper hair casg in perfect waves down her back, wearing pears to be CHAD'S LETTERMAN JACKET over her cheer uniform.

  Are you FUG kidding me?

  My stomach drops through the gymnasium floor, possibly tinuing straight to the ter of the earth. The buzzing in my ears nearly drowns out the sound of Jessica's too-loud ugh at whatever Chad just whispered to her.

  "Bir," Amber's voice seems distant. "Don't look, but—"

  "I see it," I hiss, my fiightening around my water bottle until the metal actually dents slightly. "When did THAT happen?"

  Amber shifts unfortably. "Yesterday? I guess? She posted it on Instagram st night. I thought you knew..."

  I didn't know. I absolutely did not fug know because I've been too busy ing cum stains out of my expensive carpet and trying to find rept ell application forms that don't look like they've been used as jizz rags by a hentai addict.

  As the football pyers settle on the opposite side of the gym for their own warm-ups, Jessica detaches from Chad's side and sauoward our squad, the oversized letterman jacket making her look tiny and delicate in parison. The perfect visual: dainty feminine creature protected by big strong man.

  I want to vomit. Or possibly it murder.

  "Ladies!" Jessica's voice carries across the gym, bright and chirpy and targeted directly at my st nerve. "Sorry I'm te! Had to walk Chad in."

  Had to walk Chad in. Like he's a fug kindergartener who needs help finding his .

  "You're fifteen mie, Jessica," I say, my voice cold enough to fsh-freeze nitrogen. "Warm up and join the petition sequence."

  Jessica gives me a smile that's all teeth and zero warmth. "Of course, Captain." The tiny pause before "Captain" might as well be a megaphone annouhat my title is on borrowed time.

  As she stretches, making a performance of it with exaggerated bends that ensure Chad appreciate her flexibility from across the gym, I cp my hands again. "Pces, everyone! petition sequence from the top!"

  The girls move into position with that same microscopic hesitation I noticed earlier. I take my pce at the front, tral as always, and t us in.

  "Five, six, seve!"

  The routiarts smoothly enough—synized arm movements, precision kicks, the formation shifts I designed myself. The the first tumbling pass, and I unto a roundoff back handspring yout that normally feels as natural as breathing.

  But something is wrong. My timing is off by a fray body feeling heavier in the air, the nding just slightly less solid than usual. I recover instantly, transitioning into the movement with professional precision, but I FELT it—and worse, I know they saw it.

  "Wow, Bir, careful with those ndings," Jessica calls out sweetly during the formation shift. "That uniform's looking a little snug."

  The ent hits like a sp. Is my uniform actually tighter? Is it noticeable? My mind races even as my body tihe routine on autopilot.

  A few of the girls exge gnces, some biting their lips to suppress smiles. Even Amber looks away unfortably.

  "Focus on your own form, Jessica," I snap back, transitioning into a perfect herkie jump that deliberately showcases my still-fwless legs.

  We move into the pyramid se again, and this time I notice Tiffany actually whispering to Chelsea as they take their positions. Their eyes dart toward my lower half before they quickly look away, badly suppressing giggles.

  "Problem?" I demand, the pyramid temporarily fotten.

  "No, sorry," Tiffany mumbles, her cheeks flushing.

  "Your, um..." Chelsea gestures vaguely toward my skirt. "The shorts underh are kind of..."

  I reach back discreetly ahe spandex practice shorts that we wear under our skirts—and my heart stops. They've ridden up dramatically, creating what must be an Olympic-grade camel toe visible to the entire squad.

  Blood rushes to my face as I quickly adjust, tugging the material down while pretending I'm just straightening my skirt. "Pyramid positions!" I bark, voice sharper than intended.

  The girls scramble into pce, but the damage is done. I practically feel their eyes cataloguing every fw, real or imagined: Is Bir's ass bigger? Are those shorts tighter than before? Did she gai? Why is she so off her game?

  From across the gym, I catch Chad watg—not me, but Jessica as she takes her position in the pyramid. His expression is smug, satisfied, like he's traded up rather than suffered a loss.

  FUCK HIM. Fuck them both.

  I throw myself into the routih renewed determination, pushing through the growing awarehat my body doesn't feel quite like MY body anymore. My tits seem heavier, boung more noticeably with eaee my sports bra. My ass feels fuller, the pleated skirt swishing against thighs that seem softer somehow.

  Is this real? Or is it just paranoia born from the psychological trauma of having my cervix rearranged by a monster cock? My brain 't decide, but the tittering whispers around me suggest SOMETHING is different enough to notice.

  We finish the routih nature pose, arms extended in a perfect V, head high, megawatt smile activated. I hold it a beat lohan necessary, asserting my authority through sheer force of will.

  "Better," I say, though it wasn't. "Water and stretch, then we'll run it again."

  As the girls disperse, Jessica makes a beeline for Chad, practically skipping across the gym. And then—oh God—she throws her arms around his ned kisses him. Not a quick peck, but a full-on, tongue-involved, borderline praphic dispy that has even the football coach clearing his throat unfortably.

  "Dude, get some!" Tyler hoots, several other pyers joining in with wolf whistles and appuse.

  I stand frozen, water bottle halfway to my lips, watg my ex-boyfriend make out with my social rival less than fifty feet away from me. This isn't just a rebound—this is a calcuted missile strike directly at my throne.

  "Bir," Amber's voies from beside me, geh . "Don't watch, okay? It's just Jessica being Jessica."

  But I 't look away as Chad's hands slide down to cup Jessica's ass, lifting her slightly as her legs around his waist. It's like watg a car crash in slow motion, except the car is my social status and the crash is happening in front of the entire cheer squad and football team.

  "Whatever," I finally maearing my eyes away. "They deserve each other."

  "Have you seen the Instagram post?" Amber asks hesitantly, pulling out her phone.

  "What Instagram post?" My stomach ches, though I'm not sure why. I don't care about Chad. I SHOULDN'T care about Chad. Not when I've had Oliver's monster cock rearranging my insides like some sort of sexual Tetris game.

  Amber hands me her phone, open to Jessica's profile. The most ret post shows her and Chad, his arms ed around her from behind, both ughing into the camera with the kind of staged spoy that takes at least twenty attempts to capture. The caption reads: "Some people walk into your life for a reason ?? #Neter #FootballBae #SorryNotSorry"

  "Jesus Christ," I mutter, my finger automatically scrolling to check the likes.

  3,742. Ihan 24 hours. Including every member of the cheer squad except Amber, most of the football team, and—this oings—my freshmaee Tiffany who I specifically selected for the squad st year.

  The ents are worse:

  "POWER COUPLE ??????""You guys are too cute I 't even ??""About time! ??""Told you they'd end up together!"

  About time? ABOUT TIME? Like everyone's been WAITING for this?

  I hand the phone baber, my face carefully arranged in an expression of indifference. "Good for them."

  "You don't mean that," Amber says quietly.

  "I do, actually." And the weird thing is, I partially do. I don't miss Chad—not really. What I miss is what Chad REPRESENTED: status, security, the perfect high school power couple narrative. "They have each other. I've moved on."

  Moved on to what, exactly? Getti over my desk by Oliver Tanaka while he pumps enough cum into me to drown a small vilge? ly the kind of "moving on" I post about on Instagram.

  "Squad!" I call out, my voice deliberately projeg fidence I don't feel. "Ba formation!"

  As the girls relutly disengage from their gossip clusters, I notice Jessica still ed around Chad like a designer scarf, whispering something in his ear that makes him ugh. His hand is still firmly pnted on her ass, which—I suddenly realize with horrifying crity—looks incredible in her uniform. Has it always looked that good? Was I too secure in my position to notice?

  "Jessica!" I snap. "We're running the routine!"

  She disentangles herself with deliberate slowness, pnting o lingering kiss on Chad's lips before sauntering back toward the squad.

  "Sirls," she says loudly enough for everyoo hear. "When you've got a man like THAT, it's hard to keep your hands off him."

  Several of the girls giggle, includiu, Brute?—Tiffany.

  "I'm sure Bir uands," Megan adds with faux innoce. "Right, Bir?"

  The silehat follows is excruciating. Every eye in the gymnasium seems to be on me, waiting for my rea, cheg for cracks in the fa?ade.

  "I uand we have a petition in two weeks," I reply coolly. "And at this rate, half of you will be alternates if you don't focus. Positions!"

  They ply, but there's a new energy in the air—a testing of boundaries, a collective realization that Queen Bir's grip ohrone might be slipping.

  We run through the routine again, and this time I nail every move with perfect precisioermio remind them why I'm captain. But during the final sequence, disaster strikes.

  We're doing a series of synized high kicks when I feel it—a warm, viscous sensatioween my legs, followed by a distinct SQUELCH sound that's thankfully drowned out by our ting. To my absolute horror, I realize what's happening: residual cum from my st enter with Oliver—cum that's apparently been hiding in some internal crevice for TWO DAYS—has chosen this exaent to make its dramatic exit, soaking into my spandex shorts.

  I keep my expressioral through sheer force of will, pleting the routihout missing a beat, but inside I'm screaming. anyo? Is there a visible stain? Is that why Tiffany and Chelsea were giggling earlier?

  "And finish!" I call out, striking the final pose while desperately trying to assess the damage without being obvious.

  As we break formation, I casually adjust my skirt, trying to feel if there's visible wetness. Nothing seems catastrophic, but the sensation is unmistakable—I'm leaking otaku cum in the middle of cheer practice, surrounded by my increasingly mutinous squad and my ex-boyfriend who's currently groping my social rival.

  This is fine. Everything is FINE.

  "Alright, water break, then we'll work on the new petition t," I announce, making a beeline for my gym bag at the edge of the floor.

  I o check the damage and possibly perform emergency up in the locker room. But as I reay bag, I hear a otion from the football side of the gym.

  "Beach day tomorrow!" Tyler announces loudly. "Parents' ke house is open, and the weather's supposed to be perfect!"

  A cheer goes up from both the football pyers and most of the cheer squad. Spring beach days at Tyler's family's ke house are legendary—essentially a pre-summer kickoff party with bonfires, musid enough Instagram tent to st until actual summer arrives.

  "Everyone's invited," Tyler tinues, his eyes sweeping over the cheer squad before deliberately skipping over me. "Chad's bringing the beer, Mike's on musid Brandon's got the grill situation handled."

  Jessica immediately bounces over to Chad, g her haedly. "We're so there! I just got this new bikini that's going to blow your mind."

  Chad grins, pulling her against him. "'t wait to see it. And take it off."

  More hoots and hollers from the guys, while several of the cheer girls dissolve into giggles. I stand frozen by my gym bag, suddenly invisible in a room where, one week ago, I was the undisputed ter of attention.

  Amber appears at my side, her voice low. "Are you going?"

  "To the beach thing? I don't know." I shrug, trying to appear casually indifferent while dealing with the growi pat my shorts. "Might have other pns."

  "You should e," she insists. "If you don't, everyone will think—"

  "That I'm avoiding Chad and Jessica?" I finish for her. "Yeah, I know."

  Across the gym, Jessica is now sitting on Chad's p on the bleachers, surrounded by a court of admirers. The same people who used to orbit ME are now caught in her gravity, ughing at whatever story she's telling with animated haures.

  Something ugly twists in my chest—not jealousy over Chad, but a primal, territorial rage at watg my carefully structed social ecosystem being hijacked. I've spent three years cultivating my position, building alliances, establishing dominance. And in the span of three WEEKS, it's all crumbling because I made the mistake of letting Oliver Tanaka's mutant cock reprogram my DNA.

  "Bir?" Amber prompts. "You okay? You look like you might set something on fire with your mind."

  I blink, realizing I've been gring daggers at Jessica's back. "I'm fine."

  "So... beach day?"

  I watch as Jessica throws her head ba exaggerated ughter at something Chad whispers in her ear, her hand possessively stroking his bicep. Tyler and Brandon fnk them like royal guards, while Megan and Chelsea have positiohemselves strategically nearby, clearly auditioning for positions in the new court.

  My kingdom is beiributed right before my eyes.

  "Absolutely I'm going," I say, decision crystallizing instantly. "And I'm going to need a new bikini."

  The smile that spreads ay face probably looks normal to Amber, but it feels predatory on my lips—a tigress barieeth before the hunt.

  "I'm thinking something white," I tinue, my mind already calg angles, fabrics, strategic cutouts. "Something that makes Jessica's green bikini look like it came from the children's se at Target."

  Amber looks relieved, if slightly ed about the dangerous glint in my eye. "Mall after practice?"

  "No," I say, pig up my gym bag with newfound purpose. "I think practice is over for today."

  I turn to face the squad, who've mostly migrated toward the Jessid-Chad spectacle, save for a few stragglers still stretg os.

  "LADIES!" My voice cracks like a whip across the gymnasium, snapping all heads in my dire. "Practice is dismissed. Make sure you all review the routine before tomorrow—we'll be w on synization sinE of you seem to think this is a solo performance."

  My eyes lock with Jessica's across the gym, the challenge unmistakable. She smirks, giving me a little finger wave that drips with mock sweetness.

  Game on, bitch.

  I stride toward the locker room, head high, ponytail swinging with metronome precision, ign the whispers that follow in my wake. Only when I'm safely behind the bathroom stall door do I allow myself to check the damage.

  Sure enough, my spandex shorts have a quarter-sized damp patch right at the crotot catastrophic, but definitely noticeable if anyone was looking closely. And given the giggles from Tiffany and Chelsea, someone definitely was.

  "Fug OLIVER," I hiss, dabbing at the spot with toilet paper. "This is ALL his fault."

  If I had never seen his disgusting monster coever let curiosity override on sense, never gotten addicted to the feeling of being split in half by something that shouldn't legally qualify as a human appendage... I'd still be Queen Bir. Still be one half of Westke's golden couple. Still have my ell path paved and ready.

  Instead, I'm hiding in a bathroom stall, wiping two-day-old cum from my cheer shorts while my social empire colpses like a soufflé in ahquake.

  I finish ing up as best I , wash my hands aggressively, and check my refle in the mirror. My makeup is still fwless, my ponytail still perfect, my expression carefully trolled. On the surface, I'm still Bir Williams, Head Cheerleader, Instagram Micro-Influencer, Future Ivy Leaguer.

  But underh it all, I'm something else now. Something I don't have a name for yet.

  I straighten my shoulders, adjust my skirt, and make a decision. If Jessica Porter thinks she waltz in and cim my throne while I roll over and surrender, she's about to learn a fug lesson.

  Beach day tomorrow? Fine.

  I'm going to show up in a bikini so devastating it causes actual traffic acts. I'm going to remind every football pyer, every cheer squad member, and especially Chad Thompson himself exactly what he gave up.

  And then... well, we'll see.

  I stride out of the locker room and through the gym without a backward gnce, ign the Jessid-Chad spectacle still ongoing by the bleachers. Let them have their moment. Tomorrow belongs to me.

  "Bloomingdale's," I say to Amber, who's waiting loyally by the gym doors. "My treat. We're going to find something that makes Jessica's new bikini look like a fug potato sack."

  Amber grins, looping her arm through mihat's the Bir I know."

  As we push through the double doors into the afternoon sunlight, my phone buzzes in my bag. I ig for now, focused oion Recim My Fug .

  Whatever—or whoever—is texting me wait. I have a social execution to pn, and the on of choice is two perfectly sculpted triangles of designer fabric that are going to remind everyone who the real queen of Westke is.

  Even if that queen is secretly leaking anime boy cum into her cheer shorts.

  ---

  The ke gleams ahead of us like a spotlight designed specifically for my grarance, sun rays dang across the water's surfa a natural special effect that practically screams "main character moment." Amber and I pause at the top of the wooden stairs leading down to the beach, giving ourselves that perfect dramatic beat before desding.

  "Ready?" Amber asks, adjusting her Ray-Ban Aviators (213—respectable but safely mainstream).

  "Born ready," I reply, peering over my Saint Laurent cat-eyes (450, limited summer colle) at the colle of bodies already sprawled across the sand.

  I take iory of my carefully curated beach arsenal:

  ? La Per Radiant Sea bikini in abaster (480) with gold-toned hardware that catches the light with every movement? Sheer Hermès sarong tied low on my hips (650, sample from Dad's t who works in fashion)? Christian Louboutin beach slides (695) that leave tiny red-bottomed footprints in the sand? Oversized Jacquemus Le Bob Grande raffia hat (580) for "casual" sun prote? Dior J'adior friendship bracelet (350) stacked with my Cartier Love bracelet (6,900, Sweet Sixteen gift)? el Les Beiges Healthy Glow bronzing cream (50) already givihat sun-kissed gleam

  Amber's loadout is impressive but less strategic—a cute Frankies Bikinis two-piece (180), Quay Australia sungsses (65), and Steve Madden sandals (89). She looks amazing, but there's a differeween "cute beach day" and "tactical social warfare."

  We make our dest side by side, perfectly in step like we're walking in slow motion while an imaginary wind mae blows our hair. I've positioned my sarong to create the perfect peekaboo effect, fluttering open with each step to reveal glimpses of tohigh before demurely closing again.

  "Everyone's watg," Amber murmurs, her smile never faltering.

  "Good," I whisper back, "that's the point."

  And they are watg. Every head turns as we make our approach—even a group of college guys pying volleyball pause mid-game, one of them missing a serve because he's too busy staring. The power is intoxig, a familiar high I've been chasing since I first realized what my body could do.

  What's new, however, is HOW my body does it. Each step sends subtle ripples through me that weren't there before—my thighs toug slightly where they used to glide past each other with gymnastic prey ass swaying with a new heavihat makes the sarong sway hypnotically, my tits boung with more enthusiasm than memory allows.

  My white bikini—strategically selected for both virginal implications and maximum trast against my golden tan—is dispying my assets like they're under gss at a museum. The material strains slightly against the fullness of my breasts, creating these little stress lines in the fabric that draw the eye directly to where the straps dig into my flesh. When I move, my tits actually collide gently with each other, creating this soft, fleshy PLAP sound that only I hear but EVERYONE see.

  The high-waisted bottoms should be modest in theory, but ihey emphasize my new proportions—the fabric stretched taut ay lower abdomen before dipping into a deep V that points like a neon arrow to the slight mouh. Each step causes a subtle shifting of the material against my still-sensitive pussy, which seems perpetually swollen now, creating the fai suggestion of camel toe that I'm simultaneously mortified by and wielding like a on.

  "Jessica just spotted us," Amber says through her smile, nodding subtly toward the main gathering.

  Sure enough, Jessica is sprawled across a beach towel o Chad, her copper hair arranged in artful waves around her shoulders. She's wearing the green bikini she mentioned—an admittedly geous emerald triaop that makes her eyes pop and showcases her perky tits to maximum effect. Her hand is resting possessively on Chad's abs as she applies suns in circur motions, but her eyes are locked on our approaarrowing slightly as she takes in my ensemble.

  "Showtime," I murmur, flipping my hair over one shoulder with practionce as we reach the edge of the group.

  "Bir! Amber!" Tyler calls out, way too enthusiastically for someone who deliberately didn't invite me yesterday. "You made it!"

  "Wouldn't miss it," I say, voice pitched to carry just enough that everyourns to look. "Perfect day for the beach."

  I let my sarong "actally" slip open as I set down my Goyard tote (1,850), revealing the full impay bikini. The white fabric practically glows against my tan, making the golden hardware gleam in the sunlight. I bend at the waist rather than croug, creating a perfect hihat showcases both my ass and the deep shadow of cleavage as my tits dangle like ripe fruit about to fall from a tree.

  "Holy shit," I hear Mike whisper to Brandon, who nods mutely, eyes wide behind his sungsses.

  Jessica's arm tightens around Chad's bicep. "Cute outfit, Bir. Very... obvious."

  I straighten up slowly, arg my back just enough to push my chest forward as I turn to face her. "Thanks, Jessica. Green is definitely your color too. So earthy."

  It's a subtle dig—earthy being code for basic—but packaged in a pliment that makes her look bitchy if she responds ively. Social chess, and I just moved my queen.

  "Where should we set up?" Amber asks, gesturing with our matg beach towels—both Hermès beakets (780) that I bought us as "end of junior year" gifts.

  "There's room here," Tyler says quickly, patting the sao where he's stretched out. The spot is strategically positioned just far enough from Chad and Jessica to avoid awkwardness but close enough to remain part of the main group.

  "Perfect," I smile, unfurling my towel with a graceful flick that sends a waft of my Maison Francis Kurkdjian perfume (325) into the air. "Thanks, Tyler."

  As I arrange myself oowel, I make a performance of it—first kneeling, then swiveling my hips to sit, then stretg my legs out in front of me, eaent highlighting a different aspey body. My thighs press together as I adjust, creating a glimpse of that soft, fleshy crease where ass meets leg—the kind of detail that drives boys crazy without them even knowing why.

  "Anyone want a White Cw?" Mike offers, already heading for the cooler.

  "Mango for me," I reply, smiling sweetly.

  "Same," Amber chimes in.

  Mike returns with our drinks, his eyes dartiween my fad my chest with zero subtlety. Jessica watches the iion with narrowed eyes, her fingers digging slightly into Chad's skin.

  "So, Bir," she says, voice dripping with false sweetness, "how are you holding up? Breakups be so hard."

  The group goes silent, everyone suddenly very ied in their drinks or the horizon. Chad shifts unfortably, looking anywhere but at me.

  I take a delicate sip of my White Cw, letting the moment stretch just long enough to be unfortable. "What breakup? I'd call it more of an... upgrade to my schedule. So much more time for things that actually matter."

  Tyler snorts into his beer, quickly disguising it as a cough when Chad gres at him.

  "That's so brave," Jessica tinues, her smile sharp enough to cut gss. "Pretending you're not devastated. Girl power and all that."

  "About as brave as sliding into someone's DMs before their retionship status even ges on Facebook," I ter, my tone light and pyful despite the venom underh. "But then, timing has never been your strong suit. Those cheer sequences are still giving you trouble."

  A collective "oooooh" ripples through the group. Jessica's cheeks flush slightly, but she recovers quickly.

  "At least I keep up with the routine," she shoots back. "Unlike someone who's been a little... off their game tely."

  I feel my smile tighten but maintain it through sheer force of will. "Speaking of routines," I say, reag into my tote for my suns, "I should probably apply this before I burn. All this sun isn't good for anyone's skin."

  I pull out my La Mer SPF 50 (115) and make a show to reach my own back, creating the perfect damsel-in-distress moment.

  "Ugh, I ever reach properly," I sigh, looking around the circle with wide, i eyes. "Could someone help me?"

  Three voices immediately volunteer:"I !""I got you!""Let me!"

  Tyler, Brandon, and Mike all speaking simultaneously. Chad studiously examines a e on his phone.

  "Tyler, you're closest," I say with a grateful smile, turning to present my ba while shooting Amber a microscopik.

  Tyler takes the bottle with embarrassing eagerness, squeezing a dollop of the expensive cream into his palm. When his hands make tact with my skin, I let out a tiny, appreciative hum that's just audible enough for nearby ears.

  "Mmm, thanks," I murmur. "That stuff is so expensive, make sure you really work it in."

  Tyler's hands move ay shoulders and down my spih increasing fidence, his fingers occasionally straying to the sides where they just brush the outer curves of my breasts. I feel Jessica's gre burning into me but keep my expression one of i gratitude.

  "Don't fet the lower back," I say, arg slightly to emphasize the dip just above my bikini bottoms. "That's where I always burn."

  Tyler swallows audibly, his hands sliding down to the small of my back, thumbs dipping just slightly beh the waistband of my bikini. Out of the er of my eye, I see Chad watg now, a muscle tig in his jaw.

  "You're a lifesaver," I tell Tyler as he relutly finishes, his hands lingering a moment too long. "I'd hate to ruin this tan with sunburn."

  "Anytime," he replies, his voice slightly hoarse. "Seriously, anytime."

  I recim my suns and start applying it to my legs, making each stroke deliberate and sensual. My hands smooth over my calves, up my thighs, the motion causing subtle ripples in my flesh that catch the sunlight.

  "So," I say versationally, "what did I miss? Any good gossip?"

  The tension breaks as Chelsea unches into a story about some drama with the volleyball team, the group gradually rexing bato normal beach day behavior. I position myself carefully—legs extended but slightly bent at the knee, upper body propped on my elbows to create the perfect silhouette against the sun.

  Jessica tries to recapture attention by practically mounting Chad as she reapplies his suns, but the performance feels desperate now, too obvious in its i. I catch Tyler watg me instead, his eyes trag the curve where my waist dips in before fring out to my hips.

  Social equilibrium restored, I allow myself a tiny smile of satisfa. The prodigal queen has returned, and all it took was 3,000 worth of carefully selected beachwear and the strategic deployment of my mysteriously enhanced assets.

  As the group versation flows around me, I occasionally catch Chad gng in my dire, his expression unreadable behind his sungsses. Not that it matters—I meant what I said about the upgrade to my schedule. Chad Thompson is as relevant to me now as st season's Louis Vuitton colle.

  I take a triumphant sip of my White Cw, surveying my recimed kingdom. Tyler has positioned himself strategically beside me, occasionally letting his hand "actally" brush against mine when reag for his drink. Mike and Brandon keep finding excuses to ast, each pass a different angle of my carefully arranged body. Even the volleyball college guys keep sending looks our way, one of them waving wheches my eye.

  And then I see him.

  Standihe water's edge like some kind of harbinger of doom, his pale, doughy body a stark trast to the tanned, athletis poputing the beach. Oliver Tanaka, wearing pears to be anime-character swim trunks and a t-shirt he hasn't removed despite the heat.

  My heart actually stops for a moment, thearts at double speed. What the FUCK is he doing here? This beach is twenty minutes outside town, ly a random enter.

  As if sensing my gaze, Oliver turns and looks directly at me. Even from this distance, I feel the weight of his stare—that unnervingly direct gaze that somehow sees through all my carefully structed yers.

  "Bir? You okay?" Amber asks, notig my sudden rigidity.

  "Fine," I say automatically, tearing my eyes away from Oliver. "Just thought I saw someone I knew."

  My phone buzzes in my beach bag. I ig, fog ily on whatever story Tyler is telling about football practice. The phone buzzes again. And again.

  "Popur today," Jessients with a smirk. "New boyfriend already?"

  "Just my mom," I lie smoothly, but my hand is already creeping toward my bag. "Probably w if I need anything from the store."

  I slide my pho just enough to check the s:

  BASEMENT TROLL ??: Hello, Bir. I observed your social media post about attending the beach gathering today.

  BASEMENT TROLL ??: I thought perhaps we could meet. I'm currently by the water.

  BASEMENT TROLL ??: I brought an anime character pool float that I think you'll find humorous.

  I shove the phone bato my bag like it's ihis ot be happening. Not now. Not when I've just recimed my territory with a perfectly executed social teroffensive.

  My phone buzzes again.

  "Might want to check that," Amber suggests. "Could be important."

  With a casual eye roll for the be of ag, I pull out my phone again.

  BASEMENT TROLL ??: I'll be at the public shower area in approximately 10 minutes. I've been researg teiques for optimal pleasure in standing positions.

  My face fmes hot, though I pray it reads as normal sun exposure rather than the mortification it actually is. I lock my s and drop the phone bato my bag like it's a live grenade.

  "Everything okay?" Tyler asks, his hand casually brushing against mine again.

  "Totally fine," I assure him, wishing fire would rain from the sky ahis nightmare. "Just my mom being a mom."

  I goward the water again, but Oliver has disappeared. An irrational spike of panic shoots through me—where did he go?

  My phone buzzes AGAIN.

  "Your mom's persistent," Jessiotes, raising an eyebrow.

  "She really is," I agree through gritted teeth.

  This time, I text back:

  Me: GO AWAY. I'm with friends.

  BASEMENT TROLL ??: I merely wao see you. You look exceptional in your swimwear.

  A chill runs down my spine. I gnce around the beach frantically. Where the fuck IS he?

  Me: WHERE ARE YOU??

  BASEMENT TROLL ??: I'll be at the shower facilities. There's minimal crowding there currently.

  I sm my phone face-down on my towel. This ot be happening. Not today. Not when I've finally cwed bae social territory from Jessica's grasping fingers.

  "I o use the bathroom," I annouanding abruptly.

  "Everything okay?" Amber asks, her brow furrowing with .

  "Fine," I say with forced brightness. "Just... o use the bathroom."

  "I'll e with you," Amber offers, already starting to rise.

  "No!" I say too quickly, then soften my tone. "No, seriously, stay ayler pany. I'll be right back."

  I gesture subtly toward Tyler, who's watg our exge with obvious i. Amber catches my meaning ales back down.

  "Don't be too long," she says with a meaningful look. "We're thinking about getting ier soon."

  "Five miops," I promise, already bag away.

  I adjust my sarong with practionce, making sure it's securely tied as I stride across the beach. My heart is pounding so hard I'm surprised it's not visible through my pristine white bikini top.

  I am NOT going to hook up with Oliver. I am going to find him, tell him to leave, aurn to my successful social resurre. That's it. End of story.

  The public shower and ging area is a simple crete structure he edge of the beach, partially sed by a cluster of palm trees. As I approach, I s for Oliver's distinctive bulk, my stomach ing with a ing mixture of dread and—I hate to admit it—anticipation.

  I spot him lurking by the er of the building, looking painfully out of pce with his pale skin and anime character swim trunks. His soft body is a stark trast to the chiseled physiques dotting the beach, his t-shirt (still on, thank god) ging to his doughy form with patches of sweat.

  "What are you DOING here?" I hiss, marg up to him with fire in my eyes.

  Oliver blinks at me owlishly behind his gsses. "I saw your Instagram post this m."

  "So you STALKED me to a beach twenty minutes outside of town?"

  "I simply thought—"

  "No," I cut him off, my voice trembling with emotion I didn't even realize was building. "You didn't think. You hink about what I need. You just show up and expect me to drop everything because your disgusting balls are full!"

  My voice catches o word, a lump f in my throat that I try desperately to swallow down. To my horror, tears spring to my eyes, hot and stinging.

  "Bir?" Oliver looks genuinely fused by my rea.

  "Do you have ANY IDEA what I'm dealing with right now?" The words pour out of me, dam broken. "My social life is in SHAMBLES. Jessica has stolen my boyfriend, half the cheer squad is ready to mutiny, and I JUST mao turn things around! I his day! I o be seen as normal, as desirable, as still on top!"

  I'm gestig wildly now, tears streaming down my face. Thank god for roof Dior.

  "And then YOU show up! With your texts and your... your COCK that my body 't seem to fun without!" My voice drops to a frantic whisper on the word "cock," gng around to make sure no one is within earshot.

  Oliver's expression is maddeningly ral, like he's a mildly iing sce experiment rather than witnessing my plete emotional breakdown.

  "Please," I finally say, my voice crag pathetically. "Please just leave me alooday. Just today. I'm BEGGING you, Oliver. I his one day to feel normal again."

  Oliver stares at me for a long moment, his fareadable. Then, without saying a word, he turns and walks away, disappearing around the er of the shower building.

  I stand there, breathing heavily, tears drying on my cheeks. Did that... work? Did he actually listen to me for once?

  Relief floods through me, followed immediately by a stabbing sense of loss so inte makes me gasp. What the fuck is wrong with me? I should be HAPPY he's gone.

  I wipe my eyes, cheg my refle in the mirrored surfay phone. My makeup is miraculously intact, though my cheeks are flushed and my eyes slightly puffy. Nothing a quick spsh of cold water won't fix.

  I head toward the entrance of the shower area, i on freshening up before returning to the group. But a nagging doubt tugs at me—did Oliver actually leave? Or did he just move deeper into the facility?

  "I should make sure," I mutter to myself, ging course to follow his path around the er.

  The beach shower area is more extehan it appears from the front, with a maze-like arra of ging stalls and outdoor shower heads separated by crete dividers. I weave through the partially enclosed spaces, looking for any sign of Oliver's retreating form.

  "Oliver?" I call softly, moving deeper into the plex. "Are you still here?"

  I turn another er and nearly collide with him. He's standing in one of the more secluded shower stalls, his back to the beach, pletely alone.

  "What are you doing?" I demand, following him into the stall. "I told you to leave!"

  "You followed me," he points out simply.

  "I... I was making sure you were actually going," I stammer, suddenly aware of how enclosed the space feels, how private despite being teically outdoors.

  "You look very... sexy in that swimwear, Bir," Oliver says, his voice taking on that deeper timbre that makes my internal ans rearrahemselves.

  My heart ches painfully at the awkward, stilted pliment. His pale, doughy body is a shog trast to my golden, toned form—his stomach folding into soft rolls where his t-shirt gs damply, thighs jiggling slightly as he shifts his weight. Everything about him is the antithesis of beach-ready.

  A.

  He steps toward me, one pudgy hand reag out to cup my breast through the pristine white fabriy bikini top. His fingers sink into the soft flesh with surprising fidence, kneadily in a way that seric pulses straight to my core.

  "Nnngh," I moan involuntarily, then catch myself. "Please, Oliver. Just let me have today. JUST TODAY. I his day."

  The words are guttural, torn from somewhere deep inside me, but they STILL somehow ck viy body is already responding, nipple hardening against his palm, pulse quiing until I hear my heartbeat in my ears.

  Oliver says nothing, just tinues massaging my breast through the expensive fabric, watg with i as the flesh deforms and reshapes under his touch. The trast is jarring—his stubby, unwashed fingers against the pristine white La Per, his pale skin against my golden tan, his bulk looming over my carefully cultivated beach-goddess form.

  I take a shuddering breath, my resistance crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide. With trembling hands, I reach doress my palm against the front of his anime-character swim trunks.

  "Oh fuck," I whimper.

  The sheer BULK of his cock is evident even through the wet fabric, the monstrous appendage already straining against its fines. I feel individual veins throbbih my touch, the heat of it radiating through the material. My firace its obse length, measuring it against my forearm mentally, feeling it pulse and twit respoo my touch.

  My knees actually buckle slightly, f me to steady myself against his soft stomach. His cock feels even more substantial than I remember, as if it's been growing in my absence, evolving into something increasingly inhuman.

  "Please," I whisper again, but I'm no longer sure what I'm begging for.

  As if my body is operating on its own program, I sink to my knees on the rough crete floor of the shower stall. My perfeees—exfoliated, moisturized, and spray-tao golden perfe just ho—press into the gritty, wet surface as I position myself before him.

  My hands, with their fresh manicure (OPI Bubble Bath, 12.50), hook into the waistband of his swim trunks and tug downward with desperate eagerness. The wet fabric gs stubbornly, requiring a more forceful yank to dislodge it from the shelf of his stomach.

  As the trunks desd, the first thing revealed is a dehicket of wiry, untrimmed pubic hair—dark and wild and pletely uncivilized. No mansg has ever occurred here; this is pubic hair in its natural habitat, spreading across his groin like an invasive species.

  And then, inch by unholy inch, his cock emerges.

  "Jesus CHRIST," I gasp, fronted once again with the sheer WRONGNESS of his appendage.

  It flops out heavily, the weight of it creating an audible TH as it ects with my forehead before drooping down to rest against my cheek. Even soft, it's monstrously rge—a pale, veiny sb of meat that appears to have been harvested from some mutated beast rather than grown on a human male.

  The SMELL hits me immediately—musky and sour, with uones of saltwater and something else uniquely, disgustingly Oliver. It's not just unwashed male; it's unwashed male trated and fermented, with notes of energy drink sweat and instant ramen. The st fills my nostrils, coats the bay throat, embedding itself in my senses like a parasite.

  And I'm fug SALIVATING.

  His cock rests against my face like some obse hat, its weight actually creating pressure against my cheekbone and temple. The head—purple and swollen even in its semi-hard state—leaks a thick glob of precum that nds with audible PLORP in my hair, immediately creating a sticky e between my carefully styled blonde waves and his disgusting appendage.

  I feel the warm, viscous fluid sliding down my scalp, a sirand stretg between my hair and his cock like Spider-Man's web, binding us together in the most revolting ossible. Another drop forms at his slit, dangling precariously before detag to nd on my shoulder, creating a glistening trail down my colrbone.

  "Yetting me DIRTY," I protest weakly, even as my hand moves between my legs, fingers nudging aside the white fabriy bikini bottoms to find my embarrassingly wet pussy.

  His cock TWITCHES against my face, a full-body pulse that sends a ripple through the entire length, the movement creating an i against my temple. It's growing harder by the sed, expanding ahening until it's literally draped across the top of my head, the weight of it pressing my face against his thigh.

  Something about the sheer DOMINANCE of it—the way it cims my face as its resting pce without any active decision from either of us—makes my clit throb violently under my cirg fingers. His cock isn't just an appe's a separate entity with its own gravity, and I'm helplessly caught in its orbit.

  "Mmmggghhh," I moan against his thigh, my fingers sliding through my soaked folds, finding my entrance already dited and hungry. "Oh god, oh fuck, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this..."

  But I don't stop. I 'T stop. My body is responding to his cock's mere PRESENCE, my hips rog against my hand, pussy g desperately around my invading fingers.

  Another enormous glob of precum oozes from his slit, nding on my forehead and sliding dowween my eyebrows, a disgusting parody of a facial. I feel it dripping down the bridge of my nose, some of it reag my upper lip where my tongue darts out involuntarily to taste it.

  Bitter. Chemical. Revolting. Addictive.

  "NGGGHHHH!" I cry out as an asm sms through me without warning, my pussy trag violently around my fingers. My thighs shake, my back arches, and to my absolute horror, I SQUIRT—a forceful spray of clear fluid erupting from between my legs, soaking through my expensive bikini bottoms and spttering onto the crete floor with an audible SPLLLRRRRT.

  The wet patch spreads rapidly across the white fabric, turning it translut and gy, revealing the puffy lips of my pussy beh. More fluid gushes out with each pulse of my asm, a humiliating fountain that forms a puddle between my knees on the crete.

  And all from his cock just RESTING on my face, barely even aowledged by its owner, who stands there watg my degradation with half-i.

  As my asm subsides, leaving me gasping and shaking, I bee aware of a new desperation building inside me. I need MORE. o service this monstrous appendage properly, o feel it throb and pulse a.

  I cradle my heavy breasts in my hands, feeling their new weight, their increased sensitivity. My nipples strain against the white fabric, visibly distending the material into two promi peaks.

  "Let me..." I whisper, lifting his coy fad positioning it between my tits.

  I push the soft mounds together, creating a warm el for his shaft, cradling the heavy length between them. My once-perfect tits—the envy of Westke High—now serve as a flesh saddle for Oliver's disgusting cock, the pristine white bikini f a stark trast against the angry red-purple of his shaft.

  The HEAT of him is shog—like a radiator pressed between my breasts, the temperature so high it almost burns my skin. The tral string of my bikini top creates a guide rail for his shaft, the thick vein on the underside pulsing against it with each heartbeat.

  "So soft," Oliver grunts, his first words in what feels like ages.

  "Shut it," I hiss, humiliated by the praise even as I press my tits more firmly around him, creating the perfect gliding tunnel of flesh.

  I begin moving, sliding my breasts up and down his shaft in a slow, deliberate motion. The cockhead appears and disappears between my tits, emerging from my cleavage like some deep-sea creature ing up for air before diving bato the warm, fleshy abyss.

  PLAP... PLAP... PLAP...

  The sound is obse—soft flesh against harder flesh, punctuated by wet squelches as his precum leaks tinuously, lubrig the el between my breasts. With each upward motion, the head of his cock bumps against my colrbone, leaving a sticky trail of precum that glistens in the sunlight filtering through the shower stall.

  "Oh god," I whimper as his cock THUDS against my sternum, the impact reverberating through my ribcage. "Oh fuck..."

  I'm losing my mind. I'm actually going insane. I'm on my knees in a public beach shower, tit-fug the school's resident disgusting otaku while my carefully restructed social life hangs in the bance less than a hundred yards away.

  And I'm loving it.

  My hips rovoluntarily as I service his cock with my tits, grinding against nothing, desperate for friy bikini bottoms are pletely soaked now, the wet fabric creating a maddening pressure against my swollen clit with eaent.

  "They're thinking about what I'm doing," I babble, mind rag to the group on the beach. "They're w where I am, they're talking, they'll notice how long I've been gone..."

  Oliver doesn't respond, just watches my tits engulf his cock over and over, his breathing being more bored, his pale skin flushing red across his chest and neck.

  I increase my pace, boung my tits more vigorously around his shaft, the PLAP-PLAP-PLAP growing louder aer as his precum produ increases. His cock is fully hard now, a rigid battering ram that stretches the limits of my cleavage, f my tits apart slightly with each thrust.

  "Just cum," I beg, desperate to finish this aurn to the beach before my absence bees suspicious. "Cum a me go back."

  Almost in direct defiany plea, Oliver reaches down and SEIZES my tits, his stubby fingers digging into the soft flesh, taking trol of the movement from me. His grip is surprisingly strong, almost painful as he mashes my breasts together around his cock, creating aighter el.

  "Hey!" I protest, but he ignores me pletely.

  He's using my tits like a masturbation toy nouting the flesh with rough, utilitarian movements, squeezing and kneading and pressing as he seeks the optimal friy breasts are no longer my own—they're just warm, soft implements for his pleasure, their sensitivity and perfe irrelevant to his single-minded pursuit of release.

  PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP!

  The rhythm increases, being almost violent in its iy. My tits bound jiggle within his grip, the flesh rippling with each impact. My expensive bikini top is being stretched and distorted, the fabric straining against the unnatural manipution.

  And I'm cumming AGAIN, a series of micrasms rippling through me as I watch my body being used as a literal sex toy. My clit pulses in sympathy with each thrust of his cock between my tits, my pussy g arouiness, desperate to be filled.

  "Please," I whimper, no longer sure if I'm begging him to stop or tinue. "Please, please, please..."

  Oliver's breathing bees ragged, his movements more frantic. He pulls downward sharply, positioning his cockhead directly in the valley between my breasts, buried deep in my cleavage.

  "Wait," I gasp, suddenly realizing what's about to happen. "Don't—"

  BLURRRRT!

  The first jet erupts with startling force, a hot, thick gush of cum flooding the el between my tits. The sensation is indescribable—scalding hot, almost painfully so, the volume immediately too much for the fined space to tain.

  I FEEL his cock flex and pulse against my sternum, the entire shaft expanding rhythmically as it pumps its load into my cleavage. Each pulse delivers ahick rope of cum, filling the valley between my breasts like crete being poured into a mold.

  "Oh my GOD," I gasp, staring down in horror as my perfect cleavage bees a cum reservoir, the white fluid pooling against the ter string of my bikini top.

  SPLURT! BLORRT! SPLURCH!

  More cum erupts with each heartbeat, the quantity defying biological possibility. It's like he's been saving up for weeks, st gallons of sperm specifically to ruin my carefully selected swimwear.

  The cum is EVERYWHERE—filling my cleavage, seeping uhe fabriy bikini, running in rivulets down my sternum toward my stomach. I pray desperately that the bikini top tain the flood, that I this up without evideny degradation.

  But it's too much. As Oliver delivers another massive pulse, the cum reservoir overfloressurized jet squirting UPWARD from between my pressed tits like a perverted fountain, arg through the air before nding with a wet SPLAT directly on the y swim top.

  "NO!" I wail, watg in horror as the pearly white fluid creates an immediately visible stain on the pristine fabric, the trast unmistakable. "My BIKINI!"

  Oliver doesn't aowledge my distress, too lost in his own pleasure as he tinues emptying his balls between my tits. The cum is so hot it's practically steaming in the open air, the temperature creating an unfortable burniion against my sensitive skin.

  Ahe feeling of being marked, of being CLAIMED by his disgusting seed, triggers another shameful asm that rips through me with ued violence. My thighs cmp together, my back arches, and I'm actually WHIMPERING as he tinues fertilizing my tits like they're capable of ception.

  SPLURT! SPLORCH! BLORRRT!

  The seemingly endless fountain of cum finally begins to slow, redug from fire-hose pressure to a steady ooze that tio add to the mess. My once-pristine bikini top is now a disaster—cum stains spreading across the white fabric, creating visible wet patches that no amount of "actal water spsh" expin away.

  Oliver releases my tits from his grip, stepping baire his work with that same ical detat. My breasts, now freed from his trol, settle bato their natural position, the movement causing more cum to spill down my torso, creating sticky trails ay toomach.

  I look down at myself in absolute horror. My 480 La Per bikini is RUINED—cum stains spreading across the white fabric, the tral string pletely soaked and discolored, streaks of pearly fluid creating undeniable evidence everywhere. My carefully styled hair is a tangled mess, with multiple strands glued together by the cum that here earlier.

  "Fuck," I whisper, the full impact of what just happened finally hitting me. "FUCK!"

  I 't go back to the beach like this. There's no way to expin or disguise the disaster that is my current appearance. All my careful pnning, my strategic outfit seley triumphant social return—all of it destroyed by five minutes with Oliver Tanaka's inhuman cock.

  "My BIKINI! You fug RUI!" I hiss, tears welling in my eyes. "How am I supposed to—"

  But the words die in my throat as I notiething arming. Despite my genuine distress, despite the tears threatening to spill onto my cum-spttered cheeks, my body is still HUMMING with arousal. My clit is throbbing visibly beh the soaked fabriy bikini bottoms, my nipples still painfully erect beh the cum-staiop.

  Aween my legs, my pussy is literally DROOLING.

  I feel it—the insistent, hollow ache deep ihe way my inner walls are trag around nothing, desperately seeking fullness. It's like a huhat transds rational thought, a primal hat overrides all social s and self-preservation instincts.

  "No," I whimper, pressing my thighs together in a futile attempt to quell the sensation. "No, not again. I 't—"

  But even as I protest, my body is moving of its own accord. I turn around, pg my hands against the wall above my head, my ass pushing ba an unmistakable invitation. My bikini-cd pussy is positioned directly in front of Oliver, the wet fabric ging to my swollen lips like pstic .

  "Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for anymore. "Please..."

  Oliver moves behind me, his soft belly pressing against my lower back as his hands find my hips. I feel his fingers hook into the sides of my bikini bottoms, tugging them aside to expose my drippier to the open air.

  The feeling of being exposed—of my most intimate parts being revealed in a semi-public space where anyone could walk in—should terrify me. Instead, it sends another flood of wetness c down my ihighs.

  And then I feel it—the blunt, purple head of his monster cock pressing against my entra feels evehan I remember, the heat of it radiating against my swollen lips like a branding iron about to make its mark.

  "Oh god," I gasp as he begins to push forward, the pressure already unfortable before he's even properly entered. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK—"

  The head breaches me with a wet SCHLORP, stretg my opening painfully wide despite my body's eager lubrication. The sensation is beyond description—a burning, stretg fullhat borders on pai somehow circles back around to the most intense pleasure.

  "NNNNNNGGHHAAAAAHHHH!" I scream, my voice eg off the crete walls of the shower stall. "SO FUG BIG!"

  Oliver tinues pressing forward, inch by unholy inch, filling me beyond what should be physically possible. My pussy stretches around him like aid pulled to its absolute limit, the walls gripping his shaft with desperate hunger even as they strain to aodate his girth.

  I look dowween my legs, watg in horror and fasation as his cock disappears into me. From this angle, I actually SEE the bulge it creates in my lower abdomen, a visible distention that moves and shifts as he pushes deeper.

  "Oh my GOD," I whimper, pg a trembling hand on my stomach to feel the outline of his cock through my skin. "I feel you in my STOMACH!"

  The stretch is overwhelming, the fullness b on unfortable, yet my body is responding with enthusiastic fervor. Each small movement sends jolts of electricity through my nervous system, my clit throbbing in time with my rag heartbeat.

  And thetoms out, his pelvis pressing against my ass, his balls heavy and pendulous against my pussy lips. I'm impaled pletely, stuffed beyond capacity, filled so thhly I feel him pressing against ans that should be untouchable.

  For a moment, her of us moves. I'm suspended in a state of absolute fullness, my body adjusting to the invasion, my mind struggling to process the tradictory signals of pain and pleasure b it.

  And then Oliver begins to move.

  He starts slowly, drawing batil just the head remains inside before pushing fain. Each stroke feels like a unique experiehe drag of his veins against my inner walls, the fred head catg oive spots, the sheer WEIGHT of his cock pressing down as gravity aids the peion.

  "Fuck," I moan, forehead pressing against the cool crete wall. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

  The pacreases gradually, his hips finding a rhythm that has my entire body jolting forward with each thrust. My tits swing wildly within the fines of my ruined bikini top, occasionally spping against each other with wet, fleshy PLAPS.

  "I 't—" I gasp between thrusts, "—believe—I'm letting you—FUCK! Right here—where anyone—NNNGH!—could see!"

  My words dissolve into i moans as he hits a particurly sensitive spot deep inside me. My legs tremble, threatening to give out entirely as pleasure courses through me in waves.

  "The guys—AHHH!—are probably—OH GOD!—w where—FUCK!—I am!"

  Every thrust punctuates my babbling, f gasps and moaween my words as I try desperately to maintain some e to the reality beyond this shower stall. My friends are waiting. My social redemption is unfolding on the beach. Jessica is probably solidating her pht now.

  And here I am, bent over in a public shower with Oliver Tanaka's monster cock reshaping my insides.

  Oliver's hands move from my hips to my ass, spreading the cheeks wider to gain deeper access. His fingers dig into the flesh, leaving red marks that will bee bruises by tomorrow. He handles my body with surprising strength and fidence for someone so physically unimpressive, maniputing me like I'm nothing more than a life-sized sex doll.

  "GAAAAAAHHHH!" I cry out as he ges the angle, driving upward in a way that hits my G-spot directly. "RIGHT THERE! OH MY GOD!"

  My body betrays me pletely, an asm crashing through me without warning. My pussy tracts violently around his invading cock, squeezing and releasing in rhythmic pulses that try to milk him deeper.

  "CUMMING!" I wail, all pretense of discretion abandoned. "I'M FUG CUMMING!"

  My legs give out entirely, Oliver's grip on my ass the only thing keeping me upright as I vulse around him. My vision blurs, white spots dang at the edges as pleasure short-circuits my brain.

  Through tear-blurred eyes, I gnce down at my body, watg in horrified fasation as my stomach visibly distends with each deep thrust. There's a moment when he's fully seated that I actually see the outline of his cockhead pressing against my lower abdomen, creating a small bulge that travels as he withdraushes fain.

  "What are you DOING to me?" I whimper, even as my body tinues spasming around him. "How you be so DEEP?"

  Oliver doesn't respond verbally, just tightens his grip and increases his pace, pounding into me with mae-like precision. Each thrust is a separate assault, a unique invasion that has my entire body jerking forward then back like a ragdoll.

  SLAP-SCHLORP-SLAP-SCHLORP-SLAP!

  The sounds are obse—the wet su of my pussy trying to g to his cock, the meaty impact of his thighs against my ass, the occasional squeak of my wet feet sliding on the crete floor. It echoes in the enclosed space, creating a soundtray degradation that anyone passing by could hear.

  "Slower," I beg as anasm builds, this ohreatening to be even more powerful tha. "Please, I 't—I'm going to—oh god, my BRAIN—"

  But Oliver doesn't slow down. If anything, he speeds up, his cock being a piston that hammers into me with brutal efficy. My eyes actually begin to cross, my vision tunneling as my entire existenarrows down to the massive intrusioween my legs.

  I'm cumming AGAIN, a tinuous rolling asm that doesn't seem to have a beginning or end. My pussy is just a spasming, clutg mess around his shaft, trying desperately to milk every inch of him deeper.

  "NNNNGHAAAAAAAA!" My scream is barely human, a primal sound torn from somewhere beyond scious thought. "FUUUUUUUUUCK!"

  Oliver's rhythm ges, being more erratic, his breathing bored behind me. I know what's ing— feel the telltale swelling of his cock, the way it expands even further inside me, stretg me to what feels like my absolute limit.

  "Wait," I gasp, some st vestige of self-preservation kig in. "Not inside—I 't—"

  But it's too te. Oliver SLAMS me against the wall, pinnih his bulk as his cock jerks violently inside me. The first pulse is so powerful I swear I feel it directly against my cervix, a hot jet of cum firing straight at the entrao my womb.

  "NNNNNGHHHHH!" I wail, my mind going pletely bnk as another, strasm tears through me in respoo being inseminated. "YOU'RE CUMMING IN ME!"

  SPLURRRRT! BLORRRRP! SPLOORRRCH!

  Each pulse delivers ahick, heavy load directly into my deepest recesses. The cum is scalding hot, almost burning against my sensitive tissues, and there's so MUCH of it. I feel it filling me, pooling inside, o go but deeper as he maintains his position fully embedded within me.

  "Oh god," I babble, pletely lost in the sensation of being bred. "Oh god, oh fuck, so much CUM, so full, 't... hold... all... NNNGH!"

  The pressure inside me increases with each pulse, his seemingly endless supply defying biological possibility. My womb feels heavy, packed full of his seed, yet still he pumps more into me. Some of it begins to leak out around his shaft, uo find spaside my overstuffed el, creating rivulets down my ihighs.

  And then—oh god—I hear it.

  "Bir? Are you in here?"

  The voice cuts through my asmic haze like a bucket of ice water. Jessica's voice. JESSICA FUG PORTER.

  "Oh my GOD," I whimper, my body still impaled on Oliver's throbbing cock, his cum actively pumping into my womb in thick, heavy pulses. "No, no, no, no, NO..."

  I try to move, to diseo fix myself, but I'm trapped—pinned against the wall by Oliver's bulk, his cock buried to the hilt inside me, still unloading what feels like gallons of sperm directly into my reproductive system.

  "Bir? I know you're in here. Your little friend said you went to the bathroom." Her voice is closer now, the click of her sandals on crete eg through the shower area.

  "Get OFF me," I hiss desperately at Oliver, pushing back against him.

  But he's locked in pce, his cock swollen and pulsing, physically uo withdraw mid-ejacution. Another hot jet of cum fires against my cervix, making my eyes roll back despite my panic.

  "NNnnnggghhh," I groan involuntarily, the sound eg off the crete walls.

  "Bir?" Jessica's voice is right around the er now.

  And then she appears, copper hair glinting in the sunlight that filters through the open roof of the shower stall, emerald eyes widening in stages as she processes what she's seeing.

  First fusion.Then reition.Then absolute, unholy GLEE.

  "Oh. My. GOD!" Her perfect boed mouth drops open, a hand flying up to cover it in mock sdal even as her eyes sparkle with malicious delight. "BLAIR WILLIAMS?!"

  I'm frozen in absolute horror, my body still flush with asm, Oliver's cock still lodged deep inside me, his cum still flowing into my womb in thick, ky pulses. I 't move, 't speak, 't even begin to formute a response.

  And then it gets worse. Jessica pulls out her phohe camera already open, and starts REC.

  "This is too perfect," she ughs, her voice high and gleeful. "Bir Williams getting FUCKED in a public shower by—" her eyes travel up and down Oliver's doughy form with theatrical disgust "—THIS?!"

  Oliver tinues pumping his load into me, seemingly oblivious to or uned by our audience. My face burns with humiliation so intehink I might actually burst into fmes.

  "P-please," I stammer, my voice breaking. "Jessica, d-don't—"

  "Don't WHAT?" she crows, cirg around for a better angle, her phone capturing every moment of my degradation. "Don't tell everyohat Little Miss Perfect dumped the quarterback to get RAILED by the grossest guy in school? Oh, sweetie..." She taps her phone meaningfully. "Everyone's gonna know in about thirty seds."

  A fresh sob escapes me, tears streaming down my face as Oliver finally, FINALLY stops cumming. His cock remains lodged inside me, slowly softening but still stretg me obsely wide.

  "So THIS is why you've been ag so weird!" Jessica tinues, her voice dripping with mock realization. "THIS is why you dumped Chad! For... for... ANIME BOY?!" Her ughter echoes off the crete walls, sharp and cutting. "Wait till everyone finds out the truth about Bir Williams! Social suicide by otaku dick!"

  I try to form words, to defend myself, to threaten her, but all that es out is a pathetic whimper as Oliver finally begins to withdraw. The sensation of his cock sliding out sends another unwanted jolt of pleasure through my system, making me gasp audibly.

  "Oh my GOD, you're actually ENJOYING this!" Jessica gasps, her perfectly manicured hand flying to her mouth again. "Yetting off on being caught, aren't you, you sick freak?"

  I shake my head frantically, tears flowing freely now, mascara definitely creating bck rivers down my cheeks. "N-no, it's not—I'm not—"

  "You 't even TALK properly!" Jessica cackles, stepping closer, her phone capturing every moment of my humiliation. "What, has his little pencil dick fucked your brain out? 't form sentences anymore, Queen B-ITCH?"

  SCHLORP... SCHLICK... SCHLORP...

  The wet, obse sound of Oliver's cock withdrawing from my abused hole fills the shower stall. It keeps ing and ing, inch after impossible inch sliding out of me in a seemingly endless extra.

  Jessica's mog expression falters slightly as the withdrawal tinues far lohan should be anatomically possible. Her emerald eyes widen ially, trag the emergence of Oliver's shaft from my stretched, gaping pussy.

  "What the—" she starts, her voice catg slightly as more and more cock appears.

  SCHLORP... SCHLICK... PLORP...

  My pussy lips seem to clutch at his retreatih, visibly stretg outward as they try to maintain tact, creating this obse lip-grip that extends my bia before they finally release each se with wet, popping sounds.

  And still, there's more cock.

  Jessica's rapid-fire mockery slows, then stops entirely as the true scale of what she's witnessing begins tister. Her phone lowers slightly, her attention caught by the ongoing spectacle of Oliver's seemingly never-endira.

  "What... the actual... fuck..." she breathes, all pretense of superiority momentarily fotten.

  SCHLICK... SCHLORP... POP!

  With a final, wet sound, Oliver's massive cockhead finally pulls free of my thhly used hole. The immediate result is catastrophic—a thick GUSH of cum p out of me like someone opened a faucet, spshing onto the crete floor with a series of wet SPLORTS and GLORRPS.

  "HOLY FUG SHIT!" Jessica actually SCREAMS, her phone now hanging fotten at her side as she stares in open-mouthed shock at the evidence of Oliver's deposit.

  The cum keeps flowing, a seemingly endless river that runs down my ihighs in thick rivulets, f an expanding puddle on the floor beh me. It's not the clear, watery fluid of normal male ejacute—it's thid clotted, almost custard-like in sistency, with visible ks and swirls of yellowish material throughout.

  And the QUANTITY. Oh god, the quantity. It just keeps ing, bubbling out of me in golf-ball sized globs that nd with wet PLOPS on the growing puddle below.

  "That's... not normal," Jessica whispers, her voice suddenly g all its previous fidehat's not... human..."

  But it's not the cum that has truly frozen her i's Oliver's coow hanging semi-hard between his legs, still glistening with my juices and his own fluids, looking for all the world like some alien appehat's been inexplicably grafted onto his doughy frame.

  Even half-soft, it dangles nearly to his khe shaft thick as her wrist, veins bulging along its length like roadmaps, the head purple and swollen and angry-looking. It SWINGS slightly with his movement, the weight of it creating momentum that causes it to pendulum between his thighs.

  Jessica's eyes are locked on it, her previous mockery pletely fotten as she stares in what only be described as horrified fasation.

  "How is that... where did you... what the FUCK?" Her carefully structed socialite personality fractures, raw fusion breaking through.

  I slump against the wall, my legs barely supp me, cum still leaking from my thhly used pussy in steady streams. Despite my plete humiliation and the certain knowledge that my social life is now officially over, I find myself watg Jessica's rea with a strange, detached fasation.

  "Now you know," I mao croak, my voice raw from screaming. "Now you know why."

  Jessica tears her eyes away from Oliver's monstrous appeo look at me, and for a brief moment, I see something almost like uanding fsh across her features. Then her mask of bitchy superiority clicks bato pce.

  "Oh my GOD, you're such a size queen SLUT!" she ughs, but the sound is forced, her eyes tinually drifting back to Oliver's cock. "You ditched Chad for... for THAT?!"

  "THAT is what you 't stop staring at," I point out, a strange calm settling over me now that the worst has happened.

  "I'm staring because it's a FREAK OF NATURE!" Jessiaps, but her cheeks are flushing pink, and I notice her throat work as she swallows hard. "It's disgusting! It's not even proportional! It's—"

  Oliver shifts his weight, and his cock SWINGS gently with the movement, the head bobbing slightly before settling. Jessica's words die ihroat, her eyes trag the motion like a cat following a ser pointer.

  "It's what?" I press, a tiny smile f despite everything.

  "It's... it's..." Jessica's breathing has ged, being slightly more rapid, her chest rising and falling visibly beh her green bikini top. "It's WEIRD."

  But she takes a small step closer, her head tilting slightly as she exami from a new angle. Her tongue darts out unsciously to wet her lips, the gesture so quick I almost miss it.

  "Weird enough that you 't look away?" I suggest, reizing the signs all too well.

  "Shut up," she snaps, but there's no real heat behind it. Her eyes remain fixed on Oliver's cock, which has begun to twitch slightly under her intense scrutiny. "I'm just... I've never seen anything so freakish."

  She takes aep closer, close enough now that she could reach out and touch it if she wanted. Her phone is now pletely fotten, dangling from her hand like an afterthought.

  "It's almost... sce," she murmurs, as if trying to justify her tiaring to herself. "Like, what medical dition causes... THAT?"

  Oliver remains silent throughout this exge, watg Jessica with the same impassive, mildly curious expressioen wears during these enters. His cock, however, is responding to her attention—twitg more actively now, beginning to swell ahen again.

  "Oh my GOD," Jessica gasps, taking a half-step back as she notices the growth. "Is it... is it getting HARD AGAIN? After THAT much cum?! What are you, some kind of FREAK?!"

  But she doesn't run. Doesn't leave. Doesn't even raise her phoo tinue rec this catastrophe. Instead, she remains rooted to the spot, watg with horrified fasation as Oliver's cock tio expand and rise before her eyes.

  "This isn't... I'm not..." she stammers, but her eyes have taken on a gzed quality I reize all too well.

  It's happening to her too. The same inexplicable, primal respohat overcame me is taking hold of Jessica Porter—social climber, bitchy rival, and now, fellow victim of what I've e to think of as "Oliver's cock spell."

  "Go ahead," I say softly, a strange sense of sisterhood emerging through my post-asmic haze. "Touch it."

  "WHAT?! I'm not going to—that's disgusting—I would NEVER—" Her protests tumble out in a breathless rush, even as her body betrays her by moving a fra closer.

  Oliver's cock is fully ereow, standing proudly upward at a slight ahe monstrous proportions even more apparent in its enged state. A thick bead of precum forms at the tip, dangling precariously before detag to nd with an audible PLAP on the crete floor.

  Jessica jumps at the sound, but her eyes follow the trajectory of the fluid with undisguised fasation. Another bead immediately forms to repce the first, this one even rger, stretg into a silvery strand before breaking.

  "I don't..." Jessica whispers, her voice barely audible. "I 't... it's not..."

  And then, as if moved by forces beyond her trol, her hand rises slowly toward Oliver's cock. Her French-manicured firemble slightly as they approach the massive shaft.

  "You don't have to fight it," I tell her, a strange sympathy welling up inside me. "It's... easier if you don't."

  Her fiips make tact with the underside of his shaft, and she gasps as if electrically shocked. Oliver's cock JUMPS at her touch, a visible pulse traveling through the entire length.

  "Oh fuck," she breathes, her carefully cultivated socialite persona crag wider.

  Her fingers around the shaft—or try to, at least, not ing close to encirg the girth. The trast is striking—her delicate, manicured hand against the veiny, purple-red monstrosity, her skin pale against the angry flush of enged flesh.

  "It's so..." Jessica swallows hard, her throat w visibly. "It's so HOT. Like, temperature hot. And... hard? But soft? How is it both?"

  Her hand begins to move almost of its own accord, sliding up and down the shaft in exploratory strokes. Her emerald eyes are wide with wonder noretense of disgust evaporating as the reality of what she's toug sinks in.

  "The skin is so... smooth," she murmurs, her other hand joining the first, both now w in tao explore Oliver's length. "But the veins are so..."

  Her breathing has accelerated noticeably, her cheeks flushed pink, a sheen of spearing on her forehead despite the cool air of the shower stall. Her copper hair falls forward as she leans closer, examining the cock with the iy of a jeweler assessing a rare diamond.

  "The head is so... PURPLE," she whispers, one fientatively trag the fred ridge where shaft meets gns. "And it's... leaking so much..."

  As if in response, ane glob of precum oozes from the slit, this one nding on Jessica's expl fingers. She jerks slightly in surprise but doesn't pull away.

  "What the FUCK?" she mutters, rubbing the slick fluid betweehumb and forefinger with a mixture of disgust and fasation. "It's so... THICK."

  Her eyes flick up to Oliver's face for the first time, something like accusation in her gaze.

  "What ARE you?"

  Oliver merely shrugs, his expressioral. "Just a guy."

  "Bullshit," Jessica spits, but her hands haven't stopped their exploration, now moving more fidently along his shaft. "This isn't... this 't be..."

  And then she's sinking to her knees before him, her perfect beach outfit ing into tact with the dirty crete floor without a sed thought. Her face is now level with his cock, her breath washing over it as she exami from just inches away.

  "I'm just... cheg," she justifies to herself, to us, to no one in particur. "This 't be real. It has to be some kind of... prosthetic or something."

  But even as she speaks, her hand tiroking, her face moving closer, her lips parting slightly as she inhales deeply, taking in the musky, male st of Oliver's cock.

  "It SMELLS," she says, her tone halfway between disgust and wonder.

  I wat silent fasation as Jessica Porter undergoes the same transformation that cimed me.

  "This is so gross," she mutters, even as she leans closer, her lips now just timeters from the purple head.

  Her tongue darts out, a quick, experimental flick against the underside of the head. She jerks back immediately, face t in an expression of disgust.

  "BITTER!" she announces.

  Yet before the words have fully left her mouth, her tongue is out again, this time taking a longer, more deliberate lick from base to tip.

  "Why do I..." she murmurs.

  And then, with no further preamble, she's opening her mouth and ENGULFING the head, her perfect boed lips stretg obsely wide to aodate the girth. The sight is both horrifying and strangely beautiful—Jessica Porter, the girl who mocked me mercilessly moments ago, now on her knees with her mouth stuffed full of Oliver Tanaka's cock.

  SLURP! GLUK-GLUK-GLUK!

  The sounds she makes are animalistic, primal—wet, desperate noises of hunger and need. Her cheeks hollow as she applies su, her copper hair falling in a curtain around her face, her hands w what 't fit in her mouth (which is most of it).

  "Mmmmmppphhhh," she moans around the intrusion, the vibrations visibly traveling through Oliver's shaft.

  I watch, transfixed, as Jessica's throat works desperately, trying to aodate more of his length. Her mascara is already beginning to run from the strain, bck streaks f at the ers of her eyes. Her perfect French manicure is ruined as she grips his shaft with increasing desperation, nails digging into the flesh.

  "Had to talk a lot of shit to end up with a mouth full of cock, didn't you, Jessica?" I find myself saying, a straat allowio observe and ent on her degradation even as cum tio leak from my own well-used hole.

  Jessica's eyes fsh up at me, momentarily angry, but then roll ba apparent pleasure as Oliver's hand es to rest on her head, guiding her motions. The trol she's so carefully maintaihe calcuted bitess, the social maneuveris away with each SLURP and GULP.

  SCHLLUUUURK! GAAAAAK!

  She pulls back to gasp for air, strings of saliva eg her lips to his cockhead. "What—" she pants, "—what is HAPPENING to me?!"

  Her voice is almost panicked, a genuine fear fshing through her eyes, but before I respond, she's diving back down, IMPALING her fa his cock with renewed desperation.

  Oliver's breathing bees more bored, his hands now tangled in Jessica's copper locks, guiding her movements with increasing force. She gags and chokes but doesn't pull away, her body betraying her mind's protests just as mine did.

  "He's going to cum," I warn her, reizing the signs—the tightening of Oliver's jaw, the subtle flexing of his thighs, the increased thiess of the veins running along his shaft.

  Jessica's eyes widen in arm, but Oliver's grip on her hair tightens, holding her in pce as the first massive pulse travels visibly through his cock, the shaft expanding momentarily before delivering its payload directly into her throat.

  GLRRRRRRRK!

  Jessica's eyes bulge ically, her throat w frantically as she tries to swallow the sudden flood. Cum immediately overflows her capacity, spurting from the ers of her mouth in thick, white rivulets that run down her and onto her perfect green bikini top.

  SPLURT! BLLUUUURK!

  Oliver tinues emptying himself dowhroat, each pulse delivering another massive load that Jessica struggles to aodate. Her hands push against his thighs, but there's no real strength behind it—just a tokeance as her body surreo its new role as cum receptacle.

  I watch with ical fasation as tears stream down Jessica's face, mixing with mascara and cum to create bck-streaked rivers that drip onto her heaving chest. Her throat tinues w, swallowing desperately, but it's a losing battle against the sheer volume being deposited directly into her.

  Oliver finally releases her hair, and she falls backward, gasping and coughing, cum spraying from her mouth and nose in a grotesque dispy. She nds on her ass on the crete floor, legs spyed ily, one hand clutg her throat as she struggles to breathe through the excess fluid.

  "What—" she gasps between coughs, globs of cum flying from her lips with each hack. "What the FUCK?!"

  But even as she protests, even as she wipes frantically at her cum-coated face, I see the ge in her eyes—that same gzed, hungry look that I know all too well. Her body is trembling, not with shock or disgust, but with unresolved NEED.

  "So much," she whimpers, staring up at Oliver's cock with a mixture of fear and awe. "How is there so MUCH?"

  "You get used to it," I tell her, my voice oddly gentle. "Sort of."

  Jessica looks at me, really LOOKS at me, and for perhaps the first time since I've knowhere's no calcution in her gaze, no social positioning, no bitchy petition. There's just raw, primal reition—one female to another, aowledging a shared experience beyond words.

  I nod, uanding pletely. "Wele to the club."

  She looks down at herself—her perfect beach outfit now ruined, her makeup destroyed, cum still dripping from her onto her heaving chest. And then she does something that genuinely surprises me.

  Jessica Phs.

  It's not her usual calcuted, musical giggle desigo charm boys and intimidate girls. It's a raw, almost manic sound—the ugh of someone whose carefully structed world has just imploded.

  "Fuck it," she says, her voice raspy from the throat-fug she just received. "FUCK. IT."

  And theurning around, getting on her hands and knees on the dirty crete floor, her perfect heart-shaped ass raised high in the air. With one hand, she reaches bad tugs her green bikini bottoms aside, revealing her pussy—already visibly swollen and glistening with arousal, the lips a delicate pink against the tan lines from her previous swimwear.

  "Do it," she demands, looking back over her shoulder at Oliver. "I o know. I o FEEL it."

  Oliver g me, as if seeking permission or approval. I find myself nodding, a strange sense of anticipation building inside me at the thought of watg my social rival get utterly demolished by the same cock that has ruined my life.

  He moves behind Jessica, his soft belly trasting sharply with her toned physique as he positions himself. His still-hard cock looks absolutely MASSIVE pared to her tiny frame, the purple head alone wider than what seems possible for her to aodate.

  "Hurry UP," Jessica demands, her voice crag with desperation. "Before I ge my—OH MY FUG GOD!"

  The st words explode from her as Oliver presses forward, the head of his cock stretg her entrance obsely wide. The pink lips of her pussy strain around the invasion, turning white at the edges from the pressure.

  "STOP!" she screams, genuine pani her voice. "IT'S TOO BIG! IT WON'T FIT! STOP STOP STOP!"

  Oliver pauses, surprisingly siderate given the circumstance. Jessica pants heavily, her copper hair hanging iy strands around her face as she looks back at him with wide, frightened eyes.

  "Slower," she gasps. "Go... slower. Just... just the tip. JUST the tip."

  Oliver plies, adjusting his grip on her hips as he eases forward with more care. The head slips in with a wet SCHLORP, Jessica's pussy lips stretg around it like aid pulled to its limit.

  "FUUUUUUUUUCK!" she wails, her voice boung off the crete walls. "IT'S SPLITTING ME IN HALF!"

  But she doesn't pull away. If anything, her ass pushes back slightly, unsciously seeking more even as she verbally protests. Her body has made its decisiardless of what her mind might think.

  "Breathe," I advise, oddly ied in her successful defl by Oliver's monster.

  Jessica shoots me a look that's half gratitude, half loathing. "Why—" she gasps as Oliver pushes another inside her, "—didn't you WARN everyone about this thing?"

  I ugh, the sound surprisih its genuineness. "And say what? 'Don't mock the anime kid, his cock will ruin you for normal men'?"

  "FUCK! YES!" Jessica cries out, though whether she's responding to me or to the additional inch Oliver has just worked into her is unclear. "HOLY SHIT! I FEEL IT IN MY STOMACH!"

  Oliver tinues his slow, methodical peion, each disappearing into Jessica elig a ream of profanity and gasping moans. Her entire body trembles, her perfect ass quivering, her toned legs shaking visibly as she struggles to aodate his girth.

  "I 't—it's too—OH MY GOD!" Her words dissolve into i babbling as Oliver reaches deeper than any man has likely ever peed her before, and he's still only halfway in.

  The visual is almost surreal—perfect, popur Jessica Porter on all fours in a public shower stall, her expensive green bikini pushed aside rather than removed, her copper hair hanging iy tangles, her carefully made-up face torted in a mixture of pain aasy as Oliver Tanaka—social outcast, anime obsessive, walking disaster—reshapes her insides with his inhuman cock.

  "You're doing great," I find myself encing her, an odd camaraderie f between us in this bizarre circumstance. "Just a little more."

  "THERE IS NO MORE ROOM!" Jessica shrieks, her voice crag with genuine panic. "THERE'S NOWHERE ELSE TO GO!"

  But Oliver tinues his relentless advance, his coehow finding spaces inside her that should, stretg tissue that shouldn't stretch. Jessica's protests turn to whimpers, then to moans, then to a high, keening wail as he finally bottoms out, his pelvis pressed firmly against her perfect ass.

  "ALL OF IT?" she gasps, her voice barely reizable. "THAT'S... ALL OF IT? INSIDE ME?"

  I see the bulge in her lower abdomen, a visible distention that shifts slightly as Oliver adjusts his position. Jessica's eyes are wide with disbelief as she es her o look down at herself, seeing the evidence of his invasion pressing against her from the inside.

  "Oh my god," she whimpers, one hand moving to press against the bulge, feeling it through her skin. "I TOUCH it through my STOMACH!"

  And then Oliver begins to move.

  He starts slowly, drawing batil just the head remains before pushing fain. Each stroke elicits a fresh cry from Jessica, her body jerking forward with the impact before being pulled back by his grip on her hips.

  "GUUHHHH!" Her articution has devolved to primal sounds, all pretense of social refi fotten as she's fucked back to the stone age. "HNNNGGHHHH! FUUUUUCK!"

  The pacreases gradually, Oliver finding a rhythm that has Jessica's entire body rog bad forth on the crete floor. Her perfect tits, still tained in her green bikini top, swing wildly beh her, occasionally spping against each other or her with wet PLAPS.

  "HARDER!" she demands, her voice a ragged shadow of its usual carefully moduted tone. "FUCK ME HARDER, YOU DISGUSTING FREAK!"

  Even in her pletely cock-drunk state, Jessica Porter 't help but be Jessica Porter—demanding, aggressive, pushing for more even as she's already taking more than should be physically possible.

  Oliver plies, his thrusts being more forceful, the wet SLAP of his groin against her ass eg through the shower stall. Jessica's arms give out, her face pressing against the crete floor, ass still raised high, her body torted into a submissive position so at odds with her usual demeanor.

  "CUMMING!" she suddenly shrieks, her entire body vulsing violently. "I'M FUG CUMMING!"

  Her asm is spectacur—a full-body seizing that has her limbs shaking untrolbly, her back arg at an almost painful angle, her mouth open in a silent scream that eventually bees very muOT silent as her voice returns with ear-splitting volume.

  "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MEEEEEEE?!"

  I watch, transfixed, as Jessica experiences what I nnize as the Oliver Special—that uniquely devastating asm that rewires your entire nervous system, that makes all previous sexual experiences pale in parison, that creates an addi as surely as any drug.

  Oliver doesn't slow his pace, driving into her with meical precision even as she vulses around him. The overstimution sends her immediately into a sed asm that crashes into the first, creating a tinuous wave of pleasure that has her babbling ily.

  "'T! TOO MUCH! DICK! BIG! FUCK! SPLIT! CUMMING! DYING! AAAAAHHHH!"

  Her face is a mask of ecstasy b on pain, her carefully applied makeup now pletely destroyed, bck streams of mascara mixed with tears, cum, and drool creating Rorschach patterns on the crete beh her. Her perfect copper hair is pstered to her fad neck with sweat, losing all its carefully styled waves in favor of tangled disarray.

  "He's going to cum again," I warn her, reizing the signs in Oliver's breathing, iightening of his grip on her hips. "He's going to knock you up."

  Jessica's eyes, barely visible through her tangled hair, widen with momentary arm. "Wait," she gasps between thrusts. "Not inside—I'm not on—I 't—"

  But her protests fade as Oliver's pace bees more erratic, his cock swelling even further inside her, stretg her to what must be her absolute limit. I see the moment she surreo it—the brief fsh of resistan her eyes giving way to a gzed acceptance, even eagerness.

  "DO IT!" she screams, all caution abandoned. "FILL ME UP! FUG BREED ME!"

  Oliver drives forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock begins to pulse visibly, the base flexing with each massive ejacution. Jessica's eyes roll ba her head, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as the first load fires directly against her cervix.

  SPLURT! BLORRT! SPLOOORT!

  I actually SEE her stomach distending slightly with each pulse, the sheer volume creating visible evidence of his deposit. Jessica's expression is one of plete shock, as if even after everything she's experienced, she wasn't prepared for the reality of Oliver's cum capacity.

  "SO MUCH!" she wails, her hand pressing against her lower abdomehe bulge is most pronounced. "I FEEL IT FILLING ME UP!"

  Oliver tinues pumping his load into her, each pulse delivering another massive jet deep into her womb. Her entire body jerks with each deposit, her back arg impossibly further as she experiehe unique sensation of being pumped full beyond capacity.

  "THERE'S TOO MUCH!" she cries, genuine arm in her voice as the pressure increases inside her. "IT HAS O GO!"

  Sure enough, cum begins to leak out around Oliver's shaft, uo find spaside her already packed el. It runs down her ihighs in thick rivulets, f a puddle beh her that grows with each passing sed.

  Finally, FINALLY, Oliver's asm subsides, his breathing ragged as he remains buried inside her. Jessica colpses pletely, her body going limp against the crete floor, only Oliver's grip on her hips keeping her ass elevated.

  "Fuck," she whimpers, the word barely audible. "What just happeo me?"

  I 't help the small smile that forms on my lips as I watch my social rival—the girl who has tormented me for years, who stole my boyfriend, who mocked my sexual choices—lying in a puddle of cum on a dirty shower floor, thhly and pletely RUINED by the same cock that ruined me.

  "Wele to the club," I repeat softly.

  Oliver slowly withdraws, his aking that now-familiar SCHLORP sound as it exits Jessica's thhly used hole. The moment he's clear, a veritable FLOOD of cum gushes from her, spshing onto the crete with a series of wet PLOPS and SPLURTS.

  "Oh my GOD," Jessica gasps, feeling the exodus of fluid from her body. "It's still ing out. It won't stop ing out!"

  Indeed, cum tio pour from her in an almost tinuous stream, her pussy gaping open, uo close properly after the stretg it's received. The once-perfect lips are now puffy and red, distended from their usual appearance, leaking cum like a broken faucet.

  Jessica rolls onto her back, legs still spread wide, one arm thrown across her face as she processes what just happened. Her green bikini is a disaster—the top twisted and staihe bottoms pushed aside rather than removed, now soaked with a mixture of her own juices and Oliver's cum.

  "I think," she says after a long moment, her voice hoarse from screaming, "that I finally uand why you dumped Chad."

  A ugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, surprising in its genuine amusement. "It wasly a scious decision," I admit. "More like a biological imperative."

  Jessica props herself up on one elbow, wing slightly at the movement, to look at me with newfound respect. "How many times have you dohis? With him? WITH THAT?"

  "Too many to t," I say, then crify, "And not nearly enough."

  She nods, uanding pletely. "Fuck," she breathes, looking down at the mess between her legs, cum still trig out in steady streams. "What about Chad? What about... everything?"

  I shrug, a peculiar sense of calm washing over me. "What about it? They'll all find out eventually. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but..."

  Jessica's eyes widen with sudden panic. "My PHONE! Where's my—"

  She spots it lying fottehe wall, scrambling to retrieve it despite her wobbly legs. She checks the s, her expression cyg through several emotions in rapid succession.

  "It's still rec," she whispers, looking at me with wide eyes. "Has been this whole time."

  We stare at each other for a long moment, the implications sinking in. Then, to my surprise, Jessica starts ughing—not her careful, calcuted socialite giggle, but a genuine, urained ugh that echoes off the crete walls.

  "Fuck it," she says again, wiping tears from her eyes. "Just... fuck it."

  She looks down at the phohen at Oliver who's quietly watg both of us, his impossible cock hanging half-hard between his legs, still glistening with our bined fluids.

  "Maybe we don't o be enemies anymore," Jessica says, turning the phone off with a decisive click. "Maybe we ... share."

  I look at Oliver, at his monstrous appe the way it's already beginning to swell agaie two massive ejacutions. I think of all the secrecy, all the shame, all the desperate hiding I've been doing.

  "You know what?" I say slowly, a smile spreading ay face. "Ok."

  Jessica grins, her perfect white teeth fshing through the mess of cum, tears, and ruined makeup on her face. "Partners in crime?"

  I nod, extending my hand to her. We shake on it. "Partners in cum."

  I 't help but think that while my social life as I k may be over, something new and ued is just beginning. And holy? Maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.

  Especially since Oliver's cock is definitely getting hard again, and there are two of us now to help with the problem.