I'm ft on my back with a pillow in a death grip under my hands, legs spread, tits boung like two water balloons in a fug earthquake, and Chad—perfect, popur, six-pack-having Chad Thompson—is on top of me grunting like a farm animal with a learning disability.

  "Oh yeah, baby," he pants into my ear, his hot breath making me wince. "I'm close... so close... gonna cum..."

  Of course you are. It's beely three minutes and forty-two seds. I've been ting.

  "Oh God, yes, Chad! Give it to me!" I moan, arg my back to press my tits up against his chest, making sure they jiggle in that way he likes. My voice rises to a perfect porn-star pitch. "You feel so... big!"

  That's a fug lie. Chad's dick is a solid six inches of mediocrity. Actually, probably more like five and three-quarters, but I've never had the heart to measure the poor baby. He thinks he's average. He's wrong. But he's the quarterback, and I'm head cheerleader, and this is just how the universe works.

  My pussy ches around his -covered cock, desperately trying to feel something—ANYTHING—before this sad rodeo ends. I'm so wet, so ready, and so fug unsatisfied that I could scream. Instead, I moan louder, letting my tits flop from side to side with each of his pathetic thrusts. The heavy, teardrop-shaped masses of flesh swing with enough momentum that they actually sp slightly against my ribs. These stupid perfect tits that EVERYOares at, that got me voted "Most Likely to Break Instagram" in the senior poll, and Chad 't even properly py with them during sex.

  "Oh shit, babe—I'm cumming! UNNNNGH!" Chad's entire body gid, his face t into what I privately call his "stipation victory" expression. He pulls out—because God forbid we risk getting my perfect cheerleader body pregnant—and yanks off the .

  SPLAT. SPLAT. SPLURT.

  Three sad little ribbons of d on my toned, spray-taomach. It feels like someone dripped lukewarm soup ohe tiny puddles sit there, cooling rapidly, not even enough to run down my sides.

  "That was amazing, babe," Chad pants, already rolling off me to check his phone. "Best ever."

  I stare at the ceiling, my pussy still throbbing with unfulfilled he wet walls g arouy fug air. My clit is basically screaming at me, a tiny enraged dictator demanding satisfa. I want to grab Chad by his perfect hair and shove his face between my legs, but I already tried that once. He licked me like he was cheg if a stamp had enough glue.

  "Mmhmm, totally amazing," I say, sitting up and reag for a tissue to wipe his pathetic deposit off my stomach. My heavy tits settle against my ribcage, still tingling from the manhandling they didn't actually receive. "You're the best, babe."

  Chad grins, already pulling on his designer boxers. "Coach wants us early tomorrow for strategy. Gotta bounce."

  Of course he does. Heaven forbid he might have to snuggle with his girlfriend after his three-minute performance.

  "No problem," I say, giving him my best Instagram smile—the oh just enough teeth to look ge not enough to crease my foundation. "I have, like, so muework anyway."

  Chad leans over, kisses me on the forehead like I'm his fug grandmother, and is dressed in thirty seds ft.

  "Later, babe. Love ya." And he's gohe door clig shut behind him.

  I flop bato my bed, staring at the ceiling, my pussy still dripping with arousal that has o go.

  "Love ya too," I mutter to the empty room, my inner walls still g desperately around nothing. "Fuck my life."

  ---

  The is a prison of fluorest lighting and wasted youth. Mrs. Abernathy drones on about something pletely irrelevant to my existence while I check my refle in my phone camera. My lip gloss needs a touch-up. Tragic.

  "And that cludes our lesson for today," Mrs. Abernathy finally says, closing her aextbook with a sad little puff of chalk dust. "Everyone is dismissed except for the Enviroal ittee members. You'll o stay behind to submit today's materials iory."

  I roll my eyes so hard I nearly strain something. The "Enviroal ittee" is just a faname for "detention for people whose parents doo the school." I'm only on it because Dad insisted I need extracurricurs for college applications. As if I need college when I have this fad these tits.

  The empties, leaving just me and—oh god—Oliver Tanaka. Oliver fug Tanaka, president of the Anime Club, owner of exactly three identical XXXL Legend of Zelda t-shirts (all stained), and the living embodiment of why some people shouldn't be allowed in public.

  I turn my chair sideways, crossing one long, tanned leg over the other, my miniskirt riding up just enough to be iing but not enough to be slutty. It's a delicate bance I've perfected over years of practice. I pull out my phone and start scrolling Instagram, liking Amber's new bikini pic (good, but my st o 200 more likes) and ign Chad's gym selfie (we get it, you have abs).

  Oliver is fumbling with papers behihe sound of his sweaty hands on paper making my skin crawl. I have to wait for this disgusting troll to finish the iory sheet because Mrs. Abernathy put us in pairs, and he insisted on doing the "calcutions" himself because I might "promise the data iy." As if I care about how many fug glue sticks the art department uses.

  "Umm... my assig is... I just o..." His voice is a nasal whihat makes my teeth hurt.

  I swivel further in my seat, deliberately turning away from him, my phone held high enough that he see I'm ign him. My skirt rides up another inch. I feel his eyes immediately loto the newly exposed strip of thigh like a heat-seeking missile.

  Gross. This mountain of man-blubber with his greasy hair aual a-shirts thinks he sneak peeks at Bir Williams' legendary legs? As if he deserves even a glimpse of what the entire football team would sacrifice their right nuts for?

  I shift again, uncrossing and recrossing my legs with deliberate slowness, feeling the smooth glide of oohigh against the other. There's a slight, embarrassing damphere from my still-frustrated pussy. I hear his breath catch behind me.

  Wait. Is he...?

  I gnce dowween my own legs and realize with horror that from his ahe recrossing gave him a direct line of sight to my pale pink thong. The fug pervert is staring straight up my skirt!

  My head whips around so fast my hair creates a bloornado. Oliver's eyes are wide behind those disgusting smudged gsses, frozen i, pupils dited like he's witnessing the sed ing of Christ instead of a glimpse of designer underwear.

  "HEY!" I sm my phone down on the desk, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet . "What the FUCK do you think you're looking at, you disgusting pervert?"

  Oliver's face goes from ghostly white to fire-engine red in approximately half a sed. He stutters, "I—I wasn't—I mean—the papers—"

  I stand up, my thighs pressing together with a whisper of skin on skin, my ass flexing as I straighten to my full height. Every movement is a decration of war.

  "You were looking up my SKIRT, you pathetic loser!" I'm so fug ANGRY. At Chad for not satisfyi my pussy for still being annoyingly swollen a, at this gross otaku for DARING to think he deserves to see what Chad barely appreciate.

  Oliver shrinks ba his chair, his multiple s pressing as he turtles his head down into his shoulders. "Bir, I swear, it was an act—"

  "An ACT?" My voice rises to a pitch that probably has dogs in the ty perking up their ears. "So your disgusting eyeballs just ACTALLY nded directly on my crotch?"

  Something snaps inside me. All the frustration, the fake asms, the performance of being perfect Bir with her perfect life and her perfesatisfying boyfriend—it all crystallizes into pure, white-he directed at this gross, sweaty moo everything unsexy in the universe.

  I stride toward him, my tits boung angrily with each step, my hips swinging like I'm on a missiod himself. I stop directly in front of his desk, my thighs pressing against the edge.

  "You know what? I'm going to teach you a fug lesson about respect." I pull out my phone, opening the camera app with a vicious swipe. "Take off your pants."

  Oliver's eyes bulge like a cartoon character. "W-what?"

  "You heard me. Take. Off. Your. Pants." I punctuate each word by spping my hand on his desk. "Every time you chey legs, I'll post a pic of your sad little dick to the group chat. Let's see how you like being exposed, you fug pervert."

  "Bir, please—" His voice is a pathetic squeak.

  I stomp my foot so hard my ass actually bounces from the impact. "NOW!"

  Oliver looks around the empty in panic, but there's o run, o hide. It's just him, me, and the raw, unhinged fury radiating from my perfect body.

  "I'll scream," I threaten, my finger h over my phone s. "I'll tell everyone you tried to touch me. Who do you think they'll believe? Me or the disgusting anime freak?"

  I see the calcution in his eyes. He knows I'm right. I'm Bir fug Williams. I could say he tried to sacrifice me to his anime gods, and the school would have him expelled by dinner.

  With shaking hands, Oliver slowly stands up. His fingers move to his belt, fumbling with the buckle.

  "Hurry up," I snap, tapping my foot impatiently. "I don't have all day to see your pathetic little worm."

  This is going to be fug hirious. I bet his dick is as sad and disappointing as the rest of him. Probably some tiny little mushroom buried in fat rolls. The perfect way to work out my frustration—humiliating this disgusting otaku who dared to look at what he ever, ever have.

  Oliver finally undoes his belt, his pants sagging slightly around his substantial waist. His hands move to his zipper with excruciating slowness.

  "Today, Oliver! Jesus Christ!"

  I'm standing there, phone held high, my thumb h over the camera button, ready to capture his humiliation for the group chat. My lips are already f the perfect caption—something about ants and magnifying gsses.

  "I don't think this is a good idea," he mumbles, his sausage fingers fumbling with his zipper.

  "her was looking up my fug skirt, pervert. Drop them. NOW."

  He winces, eyes cast downward. "Fine. Just... don't ugh too much, okay?"

  The zipper desds with a metallic hiss. His cargo shorts—those massive, hideous things with forty-seven useless pockets—slide down his pale, dimpled thighs and puddle around his ankles. He's wearing boxer-briefs that might have once been white but now have that grayish tint of something washed too many times with colors.

  And there it is—the outline of something tucked down his left leg.

  Something... substantial.

  No. No way.

  I step closer, my nostrils fring as I catch a whiff of him—sweat and something muskier, earthier. Like damp soil after rain, but... human. My lip curls with disgust.

  "Take them off. All the way."

  He hooks his thumbs into the estic of his boxers, hesitates again, then slowly drags them down.

  The first thing I see is the dehicket of pubic hair—dark and wild and pletely untamed. It's like no one ever taught this troglodyte about mansg. But then—

  Oh.My.God.

  It emerges inch by obse inch from his boxers—a thick, veined monstrosity that flops out with an audible TH against his thigh. The sound is wet, heavy, meaty. Final.

  My phone nearly slips from my suddenly numb fingers.

  It's... it's HUGE. Not just long—though it is ungodly long, dangling halfway to his k THICK. Like someoook a Red Bull and attached it to his groin. The shaft is pale but mottled with purplish-blue veins that snake along its length like rivers on a relief map. The head is an angry, swollen mushroom cap, almost ically rge pared to even the massive shaft, with a glistening slit that's already leaking a clear, viscous fluid.

  It's not just big. It's grotesque. Excessive. Obse.

  And it's not even pointing upward like a normal ere. It's just... hanging there. Heavy. Pendulous. Threatening.

  "What the actual FUCK?" The words escape me before I stop them.

  Time slows to a crawl. I'm aware of everything at ohe fluorest lights buzzing overhead, the chalk dust dang in the air, the sound of distant voices in the hallway. And this... this THIween us, dominating the space like a third person in the room.

  "I told you this was a bad idea," Oliver mumbles, his face crimson.

  My mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for water. Chad's dick—which I've always sidered perfectly adequate—would look like a child's toy o this monstrosity. This thing has to be twice as thid at least three inches lohan anything I've ever seen in person. And it's just... hanging there.

  I force myself to speak, to recim some trol over this situation that has spiraled so wildly away from me.

  "Why are you HARD, you disgusting pervert?" I spit, my voiing out higher and more straihan I intended.

  Oliver's face, if possible, turns an even deeper shade of crimson.

  "I—I'm not," he stammers, looking down at his own equipment with pears to be embarrassment.

  "Don't fug LIE to me!" I screech, my voice eg in the empty . "That thing is the size of my forearm!"

  "No, really," he insists, his voice small. "I'm not... hard right now."

  The words hit me like a physical blow.

  Not hard?NOT HARD?

  My eyes snap back to his cock, examining it with new horror. Now I notice that despite its massive size, it is indeed hanging down rather than standing up. The head, though enged and angry-looking, isn't as tight or purple as it would be with a full ere. And now that I'm looking closer (why am I looking closer?), I see that while intimidating, the shaft isn't fully rigid.

  This is his cock... SOFT?

  There's a moment of silenplete I hear the blood rushing in my ears. My thighs press together involuntarily, my skin suddenly too hot, too tight.

  I don't realize I've taken a step forward until I'm already doing it. I'm moving closer, drawn by some primal curiosity I 't even he smell of him is stronger now—that earthy, musky st that should disgust me but instead makes something low in my belly tighten and pulse.

  "You're lying," I whisper, but there's no vi in it.

  His hand moves toward his cock—those thick, clumsy fingers ing around the base (they don't even e close to cirg it pletely)—and he lifts it slightly. "I , um, show you. If you want. What it looks like when it's... you know."

  I should say no. I should pick up my phone from where I've set it on the desk (when did I put it down?). I should run from this room and never look Oliver Tanaka in his beady little eyes again.

  Instead, I hear myself say, "Prove it."

  What am I DOING?

  My hand moves to my skirt, hiking it up just enough to show the pale pink thong underh, the fabric stretched tight over the outline of my pussy. My face burns like I've been spped, but I 't stop myself.

  " you... get hard with this?" I ask, my voice a husky whisper I barely reize.

  (WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?)

  Oliver's eyes widen behind his smudged gsses, his mouth hanging open slightly. For a moment, he looks as shocked as I feel. Then, slowly, I watch as that massive, disgusting, magnifit cock begins to twitd swell.

  I'm frozen in pce, both horrified and fug mesmerized as Oliver's moarts to stir. It's like watg a car crash in slow motion—I want to look away but I physically 't. My eyes are locked on that thick, veiny abomination as it begins its grotesque transformation.

  "Oh my GOD," I whisper, my voice crag with disgust and something else I refuse to name.

  The beast twitches owice, then starts to swell like it's being infted. Veins that were already promi now bulge outward, creating a roadmap of blue-purple rivers along the shaft. The head—already obsely rge—begins to darken from a dusty rose to a deep, angry crimson, the rim fring out even wider like a mushroom cap after a rainstorm.

  "This is so fug NASTY," I hiss, but I don't move away. Why don't I move away?

  A pearly bead of precum forms at the tip, dangling precariously before dropping to the floor with a wet SPLAT. It's not clear like normal precum—it's cloudy and thick, almost yellowish, like it's been fermenting inside him. Another dollop follows, rger this time, so viscous it stretches like mozzarel before breaking, steaming slightly in the cool air. The smell hits me—musky, salty, with uones of something that reminds me of chlorine and old gym socks.

  "When's the st time you fug WASHED that thing?" I demand, my nose wrinkling even as I inch closer.

  Oliver swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his thieck. "Um, this m?"

  "With WHAT? Mountain Dew?"

  The monstrous appendage tis unholy assion, no longer hanging limply but now rising, defying gravity inch by obse inch. It doesn't point straight up like Chad's—it has a slight curve to it, bending toward Oliver's stomach but not quite toug it. The head now looks like it could choke a horse, a fred purple leaking tinuous streams of that cloudy pre-cum that puddles on the floor between us.

  Every throb sends a visible ripple down its length, like waves through flesh. I almost see the blood pumping through those massive veins with each beat of his heart.

  I try to ugh, to sound dismissive. It es out as a strangled wheeze.

  "That's... that's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," I manage, but my voice betrays me, crag on "disgusting."

  My thighs are pressed together so tightly I could probably crush a walnut between them. My heart is thundering in my chest. My nipples are drilling holes through my bra, the traitors. With each breath, I'm taking in more of his st—that primal, unwashed funk that should make me gag but instead seric shivers down my spiraight to my clit.

  "I'm showing everyohis," I threaten weakly, but my phone remains untouched on the desk. "They'll all see what a fug freak you are."

  The cock tio rise, now pointing almost directly at me like some kind of flesh missile locked on target. It's pulsating, alive, with a personality all its own. Anlob of precum unches from the tip, nding with a wet SPLOR the floor, steam rising from the puddle like it's too hot for this world.

  "Jesus FUCK," I breathe, uo tear my eyes away. "It's still getting bigger."

  My panties are soaked. Not just damp—SOAKED. My pussy is leaking like a broken faucet, my thong pstered to my lips, pletely saturated with my own juices. The realization hits me like a sp: I'm drippi for Oliver fug Tanaka. The grossest guy in school. The unwashed otaku who smells like a ventioer on day three.

  I'm going to hate myself forever for this.

  My hands move to my waistband, tugging my panties down. They peel away from my pussy with a wet SCHLICK that echoes in the quiet . I step out of them, leaving them in a puddle on the floor.

  Oliver's eyes loto them like they're the Holy Grail. His cock gives such a violent throb that a fresh wave of precum erupts from the tip, spttering onto my discarded thong.

  "If you ever—EVER—tell ANYONE about this, I will fug end you," I snarl, moving toward him. "Socially. Physically. pletely. Do you uand me?"

  He nods frantically, his eyes wide behind his smudged gsses, his breathing shallow and rapid.

  "No one ever know about this. EVER."

  I turn around, my ba, and lower myself onto his p. The feeling of his thighs—soft, fleshy, sweaty—against mine makes me shudder. His belly presses against my lower back, a warm, doughy presehat should repulse me but somehow grounds me. His cock stands proudly between my legs, a t moo geic absurdity.

  From this angle, I see just how massive it truly is. The head reaches nearly to my belly button, an angry purple mushroom cap leaking steadily onto my thighs. The shaft throbs visibly between my legs, each pulse sending a wave of movement I track with my eyes. It's so thick that my thighs have to spread wider just to aodate it.

  My pussy ches at the sight, squeezing around nothing, desperate to be filled. I feel myself dripping onto his cock, my juices mingling with his precum on the shaft.

  "Don't get the wrong idea, you disgusting otaku," I think, but don't say aloud. "You're just a walking dildo to me."

  Oliver moans—a high, whining sound like a wounded animal—and his hips buvoluntarily, making his cock slide against my slit. The fri sends a jolt through me so intense I nearly pass out.

  "Shut UP," I hiss, even though I'm the one who nearly just screamed. "Do you want someoo hear us? God, you're so fug LOUD."

  He's panting like he's run a marathon, his breath hot against my neck, his hands h uainly near my hips like he's afraid to touch me.

  "S-sorry," he whimpers, his voice crag. "I've never... this is my first time... with anyone..."

  Of course it is. I'd ugh if I weren't so close to busting from the i.

  His cock throbs again, more violently this time, and I wat horrified fasation as the head swells eveurning almost purple-bck with enged blood vessels. A fresh torrent of precum erupts from the tip, spttering onto my stomad dripping down to my pubic mound.

  "God, you're LEAKING all over me," I pin, but my hips roll forward of their own accord, seeking more tact. My pussy is making these embarrassi sounds as my lips slide against his shaft, leaving a glistening trail on the underside.

  I'm sitting on Oliver Tanaka's p, my skirt hiked up around my waist, my school uniform shirt still primly buttoned while my bare pussy grinds against the most repulsive, magnifit cock I've ever seen. If anyone from school saw me now—Bir Williams, Queen Bee, Chad Thompson's girlfriend—riding the p of this disgusting anime-obsessed basement dweller...

  The thought should horrify me. Instead, it sends another flood of wetness coating his shaft.

  What the FUCK is wrong with me?

  I'm burning up from the inside, my skin feverish, my breath ing in short, desperate pants. My tits feel heavy aive, ag to be freed from my bra. My clit is throbbing in time with his cock, a tiny, desperate heartbeat between my legs.

  I hate him. I hate his nasty, unwashed body. I hate his greasy hair and his smudged gsses and his a-shirts.

  And I've never wanted anything more in my entire life than to feel that moretg me open.

  "If you cum inside me, I swear to God I will fug murder you," I hiss over my shoulder, my voice trembling with rage and need. "I am NOT carrying your weird, deformed otaku babies. Got it?"

  Oliver nods frantically, his double wobbling, sweat beading on his forehead. "I-I'll pull out, I promise."

  "You better fug tell me when you're close," I warn, lifting myself up slightly, my thighs trembling with the effort. "I'm serious, Oliver. I will END your entire existence."

  I reach between my legs, my fingers ing around his shaft— to, anyway. They don't even e close to encirg its girth. The skin is hot to the touch, almost burning, and slick with a mixture of his precum and my juices. I feel the pulse of blood through those massive veins against my palm.

  "This is so fug gross," I mutter, but I don't let go. Instead, I guide the swollen purple head to my entranotg it against my pussy lips.

  The first touch sends a jolt through me so intense I almost lose my grip. The head is hot and slick, bigger than a fug plum, nudging insistently against my opening. My pussy lips stretch around it, trying to aodate its girth, the sensitive flesh already burning with the strain.

  "Oh my GOD," I gasp, my voice higher and tighter than I've ever heard it.

  I lower myself ially, feeling the head start to push ihere's resistahe wide fre of the catg against my entrance, refusing to slide in smoothly. I bear down slightly, grinding against it, and I feel myself start to open up, my body yielding to the intrusion.

  The head pops in with a wet SCHLORP that echoes in the empty , and I freeze, impaled just on the , my pussy stretched obsely around it.

  "Holy FUCK," I whimper, the sound barely human.

  Behind me, Oliver makes a sound like he's dying—a high, keening whihat would be funny if I weren't currently being split in half by his cock. His hips twitvoluntarily, pushing another fra of an inside me, and I sp his thigh hard.

  "DON'T move," I and, my voice shaking. "I swear to God, Oliver, if you move I will get off this disgusting thing and leave you here with the world's worst case of blue balls."

  He whimpers but stills, his entire body quivering with the effort.

  I lower myself another inch, feeling the shaft start to slide in, stretg me wider, the drag of those veins against my walls creating a fri that has my eyes rolling ba my head. My pussy makes a wet, squelg noise as it struggles to aodate him, the excess of my own juices being pushed out around his girth.

  "This... is... fug... impossible," I pant, but I keep going, taking another inch, then another.

  I'm halfway down when disaster strikes. My legs, trembling with the strain of holding myself up, suddenly give out. There's a moment of freefall, a split sed of "oh shit," and then—

  SLAP-SQUISH-TH!

  I sm down onto his p, taking the entire monstrous length iastrophic plunge. My ass collides with his thighs with a meaty impact, his balls squashed between our bodies. His cock puraight into my cervix, ramming it against the bay womb, rearranging my insides in a single brutal stroke.

  "FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" I scream, my head flying back, my hair whipping against his face. My spine arches so violently I'm afraid it might snap.

  The sensation is beyond description—fullness, pressure, pain, pleasure, all mixed together in a cocktail of overwhelmiion. I feel him EVERYWHERE, stretg me to my absolute limits, pressing against ans I didn't even know could be touched. My womb feels like it's being crushed, reshaped around his massive head. I'm vinced if I looked down at my stomach, I'd see the outline of his cock distending my abdomen.

  "OH MY GOD! IT'S SO DEEP!" I wail, beyond g how I sound, beyond g about anything except the overwhelming fullness.

  Behind me, Oliver lets out a sound that's barely human—a guttural, animal grunt that turns into a high-pitched keening wail. His hands finally find my hips, gripping them with surprising strength, his fingers digging into my flesh as if he's afraid I'll try to escape.

  "B-Bir," he gasps, his voice wrecked, "you're so tight—I 't—it's too—"

  I feel his cock throbbing violently inside me, each pulse sending a wave of sensation through my entire body. My pussy ches around him reflexively, trying to adjust to the intrusion, and the friakes both of us moan.

  There's a wet, squelg sound as his cock shifts inside me, my juices being dispced, forced out around his girth to run down my thighs and pool on his p.

  "Shut UP and stay STILL," I snarl, reag behio brace my hands on his soft belly. "Just lie on the floor. NOW."

  Oliver awkwardly shuffles backward, managing to lower himself to the floor without his cock slipping out of me. The movement jostles his length inside me, making me inhale sharply as the head nudges against my cervix in a way that sends sparks shooting up my spine.

  Now I'm sitting on him, impaled fully, his cock stretg me so wide I feel like I'm being split in two. My skirt is still bunched around my waist, providing the barest pretense of modesty. My hands are braced behind me on his soft stomach, my weight pressing into the flesh. I feel his heartbeat through my palms, rag like he's about to have a heart attack.

  I'm determio get this over with, to chase my release and then never, EVER speak of this disgrace again. I lift myself up slightly, feeling the drag of his cock against my walls, the ridge of the head catg on my entrance, before smming back down.

  PLAP!

  The sound is obse—wet, meaty, unmistakable. My ass collides with his thighs with enough forake them jiggle. His balls sp against my perineum, hot and heavy.

  "Nnnngh!" Oliver grunts behind me, a sound so pathetid needy it should turn me off pletely.

  It doesn't.

  I lift up again, higher this time, until just the head remains ihen drop down in one fluid motion.

  PLAP-SQUISH!

  "Shut UP!" I hiss, even as my owh catches in my throat. "Just—just be a fug dildo and stop making those disgusting noises!"

  I start to ride him in ear, establishing a rhythm, using the leverage of my hands on his stomach to lift myself up and sm back down. Each drop sends a jolt of pleasure so inte borders on pain crag through my nervous system.

  PLAP-SQUISH! PLAP-SQUISH! PLAP-SQUISH!

  The fills with the sounds of our coupli, sloppy, praphic sounds that echo off the walls. My pussy is making these humiliating squelg noises with each thrust, the excess of my juices creating a su effect that adds another yer to the symphony of depravity.

  I've never been this wet in my life. Not with Chad, not with anyone. My thighs are slick with it, his p soaked beh me. Each time I lift up, a string of my arousal ects us like some obse spiderweb, breaking and re-f with each bounce.

  "I 't—I've never—" I'm babbling, my brain short-circuiting from the overload of sensation. I've never been able to cum from peion alone. Chad's tried, God knows, but it's never been enough. I always need direct clitoral stimution, always o fake it a little to make him feel good.

  But this—this is different. Every thrust hits spots inside me I didn't ked. The sheer girth of him stretches me so wide that my clit is stimuted ily, grinding against his pubie with each drop. The head of his cock is battering against my cervix with each thrust, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to my core.

  "I—I think I —I'm going to—" I feel it building, a pressure at the base of my spine, a tightening in my lower belly, a tingling that starts in my toes and radiates upward.

  "I actually cum with this," I realize, the thought both thrilling and horrifying. "I'm going to cum on Oliver Tanaka's disgusting cock."

  My pace bees frantic, my movements less coordinated as I chase my release. I'm no lorying to maintain any pretense of trol or disgust. I'm just a creature of pure need, boung on his cock like a ossessed.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I t, each word punctuated by the wet PLAP of my ass hitting his thighs. "Oh my GOD—"

  And then it happens. The pressure crests, breaks, and crashes over me like a tidal wave. My entire body gid, my back arg, my head thrown back as the asm rips through me with the force of a hurrie.

  "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" I scream, the sound torn from my throat without my permission. My pussy ches violently around his shaft, spasming in powerful tras that milk his length.

  And then—oh God—I'm squirting. Actually SQUIRTING. A hot gush of fluid erupts from me, soaking his p, spshing onto the floor with a sound like someourned on a faucet. My thighs are trembling untrolbly, my entire body vulsing with the fory release.

  "OHHHHHHH! OH FUUUUUUUCK!" My voice doesn't even sound like me anymore—it's high, desperate, animal. My t lips are gripping the root of his cock like they never want to let go, pulsing and g as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.

  I've never cum like this—never known it OSSIBLE to cum like this. It's as if my body has been saving up every ounce of potential pleasure for this moment, this absolute PEAK of degradation, to unleash it all at once.

  My mind goes bnk, white-hot pleasure obliterating every thought except one: "MORE."

  Behind me, Oliver is making these desperate, whimpering sounds, his hips twitg up to meet mine. And then I feel his hands—those cmmy, sweaty hands—snaking around to grab my breasts through my shirt.

  "Hey!" I try to protest, but it es out as more of a moan as he squeezes, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, finding my nipples through the fabric. "Who said—ah!—who said you could grab my—oh GOD!"

  My indignation dissolves into another moan as he pinches my nipples, sending fresh jolts of pleasure straight to my still-spasming pussy. His hands are surprisingly strong, kneading and groping my tits with greedy enthusiasm. He's panting behind me, his breath hot against my neck, murmuring things in Japahat sound like lines from one of his disgustiai shows.

  I'm still cumming—how am I still cumming? The asm isn't stopping; it's just rolling into another one, my pussy g and releasing around him in an endless cycle. Every nerve ending is on fire, my entire body a live wire of sensation.

  Before I process what's happening, Oliver is moving, standing up with his cock still buried inside me. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, my feet leaving the ground, my entire body suspended on his shaft like a puppet on a stick. He carries me the few steps to the teacher's desk and bends me over it, my hands instinctively brag against the surface.

  "SPLLLRRRRT!" Anush of fluid erupts from me as he pulls back, leaving just the head inside, my pussy gaping open around him. I feel my juices running down my legs, pooling on the floor beh us.

  "NO—WAIT—"

  His hands e down on my waist, possessive, trolling, and I feel something shift between us—a transfer of power. His fingers dig into my flesh, holding me in pce as he pulls bad then SLAMS forward.

  "AAAAHH!" The scream is ripped from my throat as he bottoms out, his cock reag depths inside me I didn't ked.

  And then he's RUTTING into me, his movements frantid uncoordinated, his belly spping against my back with each thrust. He's hunched over me, his weight pressio the desk, his cock pistoning in and out with wet, sloppy sounds that fill the .

  SPLORCH-SLAP! SPLORCH-SLAP! SPLORCH-SLAP!

  "FUCAAAAA... UGHHH!" I'm not even f words anymore, just animal sounds of pleasure and surrender. My asm is stretg out, being one tinuous stream of ecstasy that has my eyes rolling ba my head and drool leaking from the er of my mouth.

  Every nerve in my body is screaming in pleasure and horror as Oliver's cock rearranges my insides. His pace bees frantihihe desperate rutting of a virgin experieng pussy for the first time.

  "No!" I try to scream, my voice crag. "You bastard! Don't you DARE cum inside me! STOP! HEY!"

  But my protests dissolve into pathetic, mewling moans every time his cock hammers into my cervix. My Tiffany charm bracelet—the one Chad gave me for our six-month anniversary—jingles with each brutal thrust, the little silver heart charm boung against the wooden desk like a metronome ting down to my plete sexual ruination.

  "Are you—aaaaHHH!—about to cum?" I wail, my French-manicured nails scraping against the wood. "TELL ME!"

  But Oliver is beyond words, beyond reason. His breathing has devolved into these gross, wet, animal grunts that sound like they're being torn from the depths of his sweaty, unwashed body. His fingers dig into my hips hard enough to leave marks on my perfect, spray-tanned skin—marks that will remain long after the 80 tan fades.

  "NGHHHH... HRRRRK... GAAHHH!" His noises aren't even human anymore. He sounds like a dying walrus, each thrust punctuated by a disgusting wheeze.

  I feel his balls—those massive, disgusting sperm factories—spping against my thighs with each thrust, heavy and full and twitg with impending release. The wet SLAP-SLAP-SLAP echoes through the , mixing with the SPLORCH-SQUISH-SCHLICK of his cock plowing through my soaking pussy.

  "NO WAY!" I try to scream, but it es out as "NNNG-WAAAAY-AAAHHH!" as anasm crashes through me, my pussy g around his shaft in rhythmic pulses. "NOT INSIDE! NOT INSIIIIDE! I HAVEN'T EVE MY BOYFRIEND—UUNNNGH!"

  My 450 cheer sneakers squeak against the linoleum as I try to gain purchase, to push him away, but my legs are trembling too badly to support me. I'm trapped, pio the desk by 12 inches of throbbing, veiny cock that's about to erupt inside me.

  Behind me, Oliver's rhythm falters, grows erratic. His breathing bees even more bored, each exhale a high-pitched whihat ends in a guttural grunt. His hands move from my hips to my tits, groping them roughly through my uniform, squeezing and kneading the flesh like he's trying to make dough.

  "TELL ME IF YOU'RE CUMMING!" I shriek, but it's pointless. He's pletely lost in his own pleasure, using my body like the world's most expensive onahole.

  And then I feel it—the first warning sign. His cock SWELLS inside me, growing evehe veins pulsing violently against my walls. The head expands to what feels like double its already obse size, stretg my cervix with it.

  "No-no-no-no-no—"

  GLORRRP!

  The sound is wet, nasty, unmistakable—the sound of a virgin's cock preparing to deliver its evolutionary payload.

  Oliver hunches over me pletely, his sweaty chest pressed against my back, his breath hot and rancid against my neck. His hands clutch my tits like they're life preservers, squeezing so hard it hurts, all while his cock does this horrible THROBBING FLEX inside me.

  "STOOOOP!" I wail, but it's too te.

  SPLURCH! BLORRT! SPLOOORT!

  The first jet hits my cervix with such force I swear I feel it being pushed back. It's hot—so much hotter than I expected, like liquid fire being pumped directly into my womb. The sensatiers anasm, this one so powerful my vision whites out at the edges.

  "AAAAAAHHHHH!" My scream of protest morphs into a moan of ecstasy as my pussy milks his cock, eagerly accepting the disgusting seed being pumped into it.

  SPLURT! SPLRRRT! GLORRRP!

  He keeps cumming, each pulse sending ahick, ky rope deep inside me. I feel it filling me up, stretg my womb, so mue that it has o go but to start leaking back out around his shaft.

  "So... much..." I whimper, my mind fragmenting with each fresh spurt of cum.

  Oliver's making these weird, high-pitched keening sounds now, like a teakettle about to explode, his hips jerking forward in these short, desperate thrusts as he empties his balls into me. His fingers are ping my nipples through my shirt, rolling them between his sweaty digits as he marks me from the inside.

  The mental image of his sperm—probably as disgusting and uncouth as the rest of him—swimming eagerly through my reproductive tract, seeking out my pristine, cheerleader eggs, is both revolting and somehow, horrifyingly, arousing. I imagihem wearing little otaku headbands, wielding katanas as they assault my eggs.

  SPLURT! SPLURT! SPLRRRT!

  It just keeps ing, an endless fountain of backed-up virgin cum. I feel it pooling inside me, hot and thid WRONG, filling every creviy womb. Some of it's already leaking out, running down my ihighs in thick rivulets, soaking into my socks.

  My head is spinning, my body still wracked with aftershocks of the most powerful asms I've ever experienced. I'm drooling onto the desk, my mascara running down my cheeks in bck streaks, my perfect blowout hairstyle now a tangled, sweaty mess.

  With one final, shuddering thrust, Oliver delivers the st of his load. He stays there for a moment, buried to the hilt, his cock still twitg inside me, pumping out the dregs of his backed-up balls.

  Then, with a wet SCHLORRP, he pulls out.

  The sensation of his cock leaving my body triggers one final, humiliating mini-asm, my pussy g around nothing, desperately trying to keep him inside. Without his cock plugging me up, his cum immediately starts to leak out, PLOPPING onto the floor in thick, off-white globs.

  BLORRRT! SPLLURRRRP!

  My pussy makes these humiliating noises as it expels some of his load, my muscles still spasming from the iy of my asms. I'm still bent over the desk, my skirt flipped up over my back, my ass exposed to the empty , cum bubbling out of my thhly used hole.

  Behind me, I hear the frantic rustling of clothing as Oliver pulls up his pants. He's whimpering, making these pathetic little sounds like a wounded animal. I try to turn, to front him, to scream at him for what he's done, but my legs won't support me. I'm stuck there, leaking his disgusting seed onto the floor, my pride in puddles around my ankles.

  "I—I—sorry—I couldn't—" he stammers, and then there's the sound of the door smming as he FLEES, actually RUNS AWAY, leaving me here in this state of plete sexual defilement.

  I slump against the desk, panting, my body still trembling from the aftershocks. Between my legs, cum tio drip out in thick globs, falling to the floor with wet PLOP-PLOP-PLOP sounds.

  My life is over. Not just because I've been creampied by the grossest guy in school, but because it was the most intense sexual experieny life. Nothing—NOTHING—has ever made me cum like that. Not Chad with his perfect abs and mediocre diot my vibrator on the highest setting. Nothing.

  "That fug COWARD," I hiss, my voice raspy from screaming. "Runs away like the little bitch he is after THAT?"

  My legs are still shaking as I push myself upright, wing at the sensation of more cum gushing out as I stand. I fumble for the tissues in my purse, trying to up the mess between my thighs, but it's useless—there's just so much of it. It's like trying to stop a flood with a paper towel.

  I check my phone. 4:15. The ain Street is open until 9. Plenty of time to get Pn B. Thank GOD I have that emergency credit card Dad gave me "for ies only." Pretty sure preventing an anime-obsessed shut-in's baby qualifies as a fug y.

  ---

  "Higher, Tiffany! I said HIGHER! If your heel stretch doesn't make everyone worry you might snap in half, what's even the point?"

  I stand at the edge of the football field, hands on my hips, watg our freshman recruit struggle through a move I perfected ih grade. The Friday night lights illuminate Westke's pristiurf field—paid for by daddy donations just like mine—as the stands fill with the usual hierarchy: parents with their designer coffee tumblers, sophirls desperately trying to catch football pyers' attention, and the nobodies who actually care about the sport.

  It's been four days sihe I. Four days of popping Pn B, obsessively cheg for leaks, and trying to scrub the memory of Oliver Tanaka's disgusting cock from my brain. I've almost succeeded. Almost.

  "Sorry, Bir!" Tiffany's voice cracks as she wobbles, her ponytail swinging wildly. Poor thing still uses drugstore hair spray instead of Ouai like the rest of us.

  "Don't be sorry, be BETTER." I flip my own ponytail—ptinum blonde perfe secured with a blue-and-white schie that matches our uniforms exactly. "The Riverside game is gest of the season. Their cheerleaders look like Victoria's Secret models with trust funds. We o DESTROY them."

  The squad forms a semicircle around me, all wearing the same Westke uniform: cropped white shell tops with our blue W emblem stretched across our chests, pleated blue miniskirts that show just enough ass cheek to distract the opposing team, and white cheer shoes that ore than some people's rent. The difference is hoear them. O's haute couture. On some of these girls, it's just polyester.

  "Okay, pyramid formation! Amber and Jessi base with me, Chelsea and Megan sed tier, Tiffany on top." I cp my hands sharply, the sound cutting through the growing pre-game noise.

  As osition, I catch sight of the football team emerging from the locker room, Chad leading the pack like the golderiever himbo he is. He spots me and winks, mouthing "looking hot" before spping his teammate's ass in that not-at-all-gay way athletes always do.

  I blow him a kiss that's 40% obligation, 60% performance. Every time I've tried to have sex with him sihe I, I've had to fake it even harder than usual. It's like my pussy has developed amnesia for anything under eight inches.

  "Ready? Owo—" I position myself as the ter base, my legs in a perfect squat that showcases both my thigh gap and the results of three years of leg day. My core tightens, abs flexih my crop top as Amber and Jessik me.

  We hoist Chelsea and Megan up in perfect synization, their feet finding the firm ptforms created by our interlocked arms. The movement sends a ripple through my tits—those perfect 32DDs that have their own gravitational pull and fan club—but I've mastered the art of trolled jiggle. Enough to draw every eye iadium, not enough to ruiunt.

  "Tiffany, NOW!" I and, my voice cutting through the crowd noise.

  Tiffany runs forward, jumps into our waiting hands, and we boost her skyward. As she rises, I feel a traitorous throb between my legs—the same pulsing reminder I've been fighting all week. The precise moment her weight trahrough my arms triggers a fshback: Oliver's cock stretg me, filling me, ruining me...

  "Lock it, Tiffany!" I snap, louder than necessary, f the memory away.

  Above us, Tiffaends into a perfect liberty, one leg bent with foot pressed against her knee, arms in a triumphant V. The crowd roars its approval. From this angle, all I see is her blue spanks underh her skirt, making me suddenly, intensely aware of my owhird pair I've worn today because I keep getting inexplicably wet.

  "Westke Wolves, HOWL AT THE MOON!" I lead the cheer, our voices blending into a practiced harmony that carries across the field. We hold the pyramid fht ts—long enough for every parent to snap their Instagram shot—before dismounting with chraphed precision.

  As Tiffany flips forward, my squad catches her with the practiced ease of girls who've been dropping each other since childhood. The moment her feet touch ground, we transition into our sideline dance routine, a carefully calibrated dispy of athletic prowess and PG-13 sexiness.

  "Ready, girls? Five, six, seve!"

  My body moves on autopilot, muscle memory taking over as we unto a sequence of high kicks and hip rolls. Eaent sends precise, trolled ripples through my body—the way my ass cps softly with each jump, the perfect bouny tits with each arm motion, the fluid undution of my toomach during body rolls. It's a performance of femininity I've spent years perfeg.

  "Go Wolves, TAKE! THEM! DOWN!" We punctuate each word with a synized cp-turn-pose bination.

  I catch at least three dads adjusting their positions in the bleachers. Typical. If they only kheir precious head cheerleader had bee over a desk earlier this week, taking the most disgusting co school...

  No. I will NOT think about that now.

  My thighs squeeze together as we drop into a low squat, pom-poms raised high. The pressure against my suddenly sensitive clit nearly makes me miss a beat. Nearly. Bir Williams doesn't miss beats.

  We finish with a series of tumbling passes—my roundoff back handspring yout drawing cheers as my body cuts through the air, hair streaming behind me, nding with perfect precision.

  As the routine ends, I strike my final pose—hip cocked, chest out, megawatt smile activated. The crowd eats it up.

  "Good energy, girls," I say, maintaining my smile as we break formation. "Tiffany, watch your extension. Megan, your timing was off in the sed eight-t. Fix it before halftime or sit out."

  I strut toward the water cooler, feeling every eye on my retreating form. My skirt swishes against the tops of my thighs with each deliberate step, the hem just barely c the bottom curve of my ass—school dress code allows it because of "athletic requirements," which really means "the principal is divorced and lonely."

  "Killing it as usual, babe." Chad appears beside me, practice jersey already darkened with sweat at the chest and underarms. His hand finds the small of my back, fingers dangerously close to my ass. "You look so fug hot tonight."

  I tilt my face up for his expected kiss, whids slightly off-ter on my mouth. He tastes like Gatorade and that disgusting pre-game energy gel he always uses. "Thanks. You ready to demolish Riverside?"

  "Born ready." He flexes subtly, biceps straining his uniform. "Coach says I might break the ty passing record tonight."

  "Amazing," I say, with practiced admiration. Once upon a time, Chad's athletic prowess made me genuinely wet. Now all I think is how...

  Stop it, Bir!

  "You ing to Brandon's after the game? His parents are in Aspen." Chad's hand slides lower, cupping my ass with the entitled fidence of a boy who's been the ter of attention since puberty. "We could sneak off to the pool house again." He drops his voice, leaning closer. "I've been thinking about you all day."

  I force a ile, even as my body remains stubbornly unrespoo his touch. What's wrong with me? This is CHAD THOMPSON—the boy with abs you could grate cheese on and a jawlihat belongs on Mount Rushmore.

  "Maybe," I tease, stepping away as Coach Wilson approaches our squad. "Depends how well you py. I only celebrate with winners."

  Chad grins, smag my ass before jogging back to his team.

  Across the field, the crowd parts momentarily, and my stomach drops. Oliver Tanaka is iands, his massive frame unmistakable even from this distance. He's wearing one of his stupid anime shirts—something with bright colors and a girl with improbable proportions—and he's looking directly at me.

  Our eyes lock for a fra of a sed before I deliberately turn away, heart hammering in my chest.

  "Positions, dies!" I cp my hands, voice sharper than intended. "Amber, Jessica—tight fnk formation. We're doing the extended liberties during the national anthem."

  As we arrange ourselves, I keep my eyes fixed on the field, my posture exemplifying the poise that won me Miss Teeke ty st spring. My spine is straight, shoulders back, lifted—a position that naturally thrusts my chest forward, creating that perfect silhouette that's graced our yearbook cover two years running.

  But inside, I'm in chaos. Because despite the Pn B, despite the three showers a day, despite my perfect boyfriend and my perfect life, all I think about is how perfectly Oliver Tanaka's disgusting cock ruined me.

  I'm still vibrating with post-game adrenaline, sweat cooling on my skin, when I pull out my phone in the empty locker room. My fingers hover over the s for a moment before I start typing, rage and something else bubbling in my stomach like acid reflux from hell.

  **Bir:** Who is this**Unknown:** ? I don't uand**Bir:** This is Bir Williams.**Bir:** Answer me, Oliver.**Unknown:** Bir? How did you get my number?**Bir:** Not important. Meet me at the prefab building behind the gym. RIGHT NOW.**Unknown:** What? Why?**Bir:** Because I said so.**Bir:** You have 10 minutes or I tell everyone what you did.**Bir:** And trust me, no one's going to believe YOU didn't force ME.**Unknown:** But I didn't...**Bir:** 9 minutes.**Unknown:** I'm on my lease don't say anything to anyone**Bir:** Ae these texts after. I don't need your nasty name in my phone.**Unknown:** Ok I will. But why do you want to meet?**Bir:** 8 minutes.**Unknown:** I'm ing!

  I sm my phone down on the bench, my hand shaking. What the FUCK am I doing? I just led our squad through a fwless halftime shoon the game. Chad broke his passing record and is waiting for me at Brandon's party with a White d expectation in his eyes.

  And I'm texting Oliver fug Tanaka.

  I grab my duffel bag and slip out the back door of the gym, making sure no one sees me heading toward the prefabricated building where they store extra athletic equipment. It smells like rubber mats and adolest sweat, illuminated only by a single flickering fluorest light that makes everything look jaundiced and diseased.

  Perfect setting for what I'm about to do.

  I pace the small space, my cheer skirt swishing against my thighs, still in uniform because I didn't even take time to ge. My ponytail is ing loose, wisps of blonde hair stig to my neck where sweat still gs to my skin. I probably smell like exertion and the vanil body spray I applied at halftime. I should care. I don't.

  The door creaks open, and Oliver's massive form fills the frame, momentarily blog the sliver of light from outside. I hear the distant sounds of celebration—car horns honking, music thumping as people head to Brandon's—but it all seems to belong to another universe.

  "H-hi," Oliver stammers, closing the door behind him. He's wearing the same disgusting anime shirt from earlier, his hair even greasier uhe harsh lighting. "How... how did you get my number?"

  "I asked your fellow degees in the anime club," I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. "Told them I for a school project. Those losers practically tripped over themselves to help me."

  Oliver shifts his weight, the floorboards creaking under him. "Why did you want to—"

  "YOU CAME INSIDE ME!" I explode, the words bursting out like they've been fighting to escape sihe moment I texted him. "You PROMISED you wouldn't, and then you FLED like a fug COWARD!"

  He flinches like I've spped him, his multiple s pressing as he turtles his head down into his shoulders. "I'm really sorry, Bir. I couldn't—it was my first time, and I—"

  "Save it." I step closer, jabbing a finger into his soft chest. He smells like he hasn't showered since our st enter—a mixture of stale sweat, unwashed clothes, and that underlying musk that makes my traitorous pussy ch with reition. "Do you have ANY IDEA what you put me through? I had to buy Pn B with my emergency credit card! The pharmacist LOOKED at me! I've been cheg fnancy symptoms every five minutes for four days!"

  Oliver's face is crimson, his eyes downcast behind those perpetually smudged gsses. "I'm so sorry. Is there... is there any way you could five me?"

  "Five you?" I ugh, the sound harsh in the enclosed space. "You disgusting, ag, Mountain-Dew-chugging waste of space. You think I could FIVE you?"

  He winces again, shoulders hung further. "I uand if you—"

  "Take off your pants."

  Oliver's head snaps up, eyes wide with shock. "W-what?"

  "You heard me." My voice is ice, even as heat floods my body. "Take. Them. Off."

  "But—but why?" His hands hover uainly near his belt.

  "Because I fug SAID SO!" My voice rises dangerously close to a shout, and I immediately lower it, aware of how sound might carry. "Because I 't stop thinking about your disgusting cock, and I HATE myself for it, and I HATE YOU for it, and I'm going to fug exorcise this... this THING before it ruins my life!"

  Oliver stares at me for a long moment, fusion and disbelief warring on his fleshy face. Then, slowly, he unbuckles his belt.

  "Hurry UP," I hiss, gng nervously at the door. "Someone could walk in any minute."

  The zipper desds with that same metallic hiss I've been hearing in my dreams for fhts straight. His cargo shorts drop to his ankles, followed by his boxers, and there it is—that monstrosity that's been haunting me, flopping out with the same wet TH against his thigh.

  Even soft, it's obse—thid pale and veihe head partially visible beh the foreskin, already beginning to swell under my gaze. The smell hits me immediately—strohan before, muskier, earthier, with uones of something tangy and sour that should repulse me but instead makes my mouth water.

  "You're disgusting," I whisper, dropping to my knees in front of him, my cheer skirt fanning out around me on the dirty floor. "Your cock is DISGUSTING." My hand reaches out, ing around the shaft, my fingers not even close to meeting. It pulses against my palm, already hardening.

  Oliver makes a choked sound, his breathing immediately being ragged. I look up at him, my face torted with manufactured disgust. "Don't get the wrong idea, pervert. I just o... to it."

  I lean forward, letting the massive head bump against my face, feeling it leave a wet smear of prey cheek. The sensation sends a jolt straight to my clit, making my pussy ch around nothing. I hate myself. I hate him. I hate this.

  I his.

  "So. Again. When's the st time you washed this thing?" I ask, my voice dripping with pt even as I guide it toward my lips. "It smells like a fug fish market."

  Oliver whimpers, his hands h uainly in the air. "This m-m, I swear—"

  "Liar." I stiy tongue, giving the underside of the head a tentative lick. The taste explodes ay pate—salt and musk and male, with a bitter uohat makes my nose wrinkle even as my pussy floods with new wetness. "You're a disgusting liar."

  I part my lips, stretg them around the massive , feeling the ridge caty lower lip as I take just the head into my mouth. It's enormous, filling me pletely, the taste even stronger now—a smell so thick I practically chew it, coating my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

  "Hnnngh!" Oliver grunts, his hips twitg forward involuntarily.

  I pull back immediately, gring up at him. "Did I SAY you could move? Stand still, you disgusting pervert."

  His cock bobs in front of my faow fully erect, standing proud and terrible from his groin. It's even more intimidating than I remembered—the veins more pronouhe head darker and more swollen, the slight upward curve more defined. A fresh bead of precum forms at the tip, dangling precariously before dropping onto my cheer uniform top, leaving a dark stain on the white fabric.

  "Look what you DID!" I hiss, gesturing at the spot. "This is ! It costs more than your entire wardrobe!"

  "S-sorry," Oliver stammers, his face crimson.

  I scowl, then my hand around his shaft again, guiding it bay mouth. "Just shut up a me do this."

  This time, I take more of him in, hollowing my cheeks as I suckle on the head, my tongue swirling around the , dipping into the slit where more of that bitter, salty precum is leaking. It's foul—like lig a battery that's been soaked ier—but something about it has my thighs pressing together, seeking fri.

  "Damn it," I think, feeling my body temperature rise, my skin flushing with unwanted arousal. "Just by putting it in my mouth, my body got really heated..."

  I try to take more, sliding down another inch, feeling the massive head press against the bay throat. It's too much—I gag, my eyes watering, spit pooling and dripping down my in long, silvery strands.

  GLRK! GLRK! GLRK!

  The sound is obse—wet and choking and unmistakable. I pull back, gasping for air, strands of spit eg my lips to his cock like some disgusting spiderweb.

  "You're so fug GROSS," I snarl, wiping my mouth with the bay hand. "Why is it so BIG? What's WRONG with you?"

  Oliver shrugs helplessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his cock twitg eagerly in front of my face. "I don't—I didn't—"

  "Shut UP." I grab him again, more firmly this time, and guide him bay mouth. This time, I'm determio take more, to quer this beast, to prove it doesn't trol me. I rex my throat, remembering teiques I've read about in o uhe bedcovers with a fshlight, and take him deeper.

  GLURRRK! HRRRK! GAAAK!

  My throat vulses around him, trying to expel the invader, but I force myself to stay put, tears streaming down my cheeks, mascara surely creating bck rivers on my face. I feel my pulse pounding in my head, my airway pletely blocked by his girth.

  Oliver's hand finally moves, pressing against the wall beside my head to steady himself. He's making these pathetic, whimpering sounds that would be hirious if I weren't currently choking on his cock.

  I pull back, dragging in a desperate breath, my chest heaving. My bra feels too tight, my nipples hard points pressing against the fabric. Between my legs, my pussy is throbbing, my thong soaked through with arousal.

  "You taste DISGUSTING," I gasp, even as I dive back down, taking him to the same point, feeling the head push against the entrao my throat. This time, I swallow, feeling my throat open slightly, allowing another inch to slide in.

  GLLORP! SCHLURP!

  The sounds ing from my mouth are animals—wet, sloppy, nasty. Spit is running down my in rivers now, soaking the front of my uniform. I feel it dripping onto my thighs, mixing with the arousal that's leaking through my thong.

  Oliver's other hand moves to the bay head, his fiangling in my ponytail. I should sp it away. I should bite him. I should stop this entire degrading se.

  Instead, I take him deeper, feeling his cock slide past the bay mouth, into my throat proper. The sensation is alien—my airway pletely blocked, my body screaming for oxygen, my mind floating in some oxygen-deprived haze where all that matters is the throbbing, pulsi stretg my throat.

  HRRRRK! GLAAACK! GLUUUURK!

  I feel his balls against my now—massive, pendulous things full of the same disgusting cum he pumped into me four days ago. The thought should horrify me. Instead, it makes my pussy ch so hard I swear I feel my thoier.

  "B-Bir," Oliver gasps, his voice strained. "I'm—I'm going to—"

  I try to pull back, but his hand tightens in my hair, holding me in pce. Panic fres for a moment before being overwhelmed by a rush of... something else. Something dark and primal that has me pressing FORWARD instead of pulling back, taking him impossibly deeper.

  His cock swells in my throat, the veins pulsing against my tissues, the head growing even rger. I feel every detail of it—every ridge, every vein, the slight curve that's now straightened by the fines of my throat.

  "NNNGGGHHHH!" Oliver's groan is almost a shout, his hips jerking forward involuntarily, pushing the st fra of an into my throat.

  And then I feel it—the first pulse, the first jet of cum shooting directly down my throat, bypassing my mouth entirely. It's hot—scalding—and seems to travel down my esophagus with enough force to leave bruises.

  SPLURCH! SPLURT! BLORRT!

  I 't taste it at first, but I FEEL it—thick, rope-like spurts pulsing into my stomach, filling me from the inside. My lungs are burning, spots dang at the edges of my vision from ck of oxygen, but some animal part of my brain won't let me pull back, won't let me stop taking his seed.

  Until finally, survival instinct kicks in. I wrench backward, gasping for air, just as another massive pulse erupts from his cock. This os my soft pate directly, flooding my mouth with thick, ky semen. The taste is overwhelming—bitter and salty, with a chemical uone like ing products mixed with old s. It's not just the fvor but the TEXTURE that's so shog—like half-set pudding, thick globs floating in a more liquid base, some parts ging to the roof of my mouth while others slide down my throat.

  SPLRRRT! SPLOOORT! BLURRT!

  He keeps cumming, each pulse delivering another mouthful of his repulsive seed. It's too much—my cheeks bulge with it, uo swallow fast enough. It leaks from the ers of my mouth, running down my to join the rivers of spit already soaking my uniform.

  And still, he's not done. I pull back further, gasping and choking, just as the final, massive jet erupts from his cock. This oches me across the face—a thick, ropey strand that nds with a wet SPLAT ay forehead, dripping down over my left eye and cheek.

  The sensatioer defilement of having this disgusting otaku's cum painting my face like a Ja Pollock—triggers something deep inside me. My pussy tracts violently, a rush of fluid soaking through my thong, running down my ihighs. I'm cumming—actually CUMMING—just from the degradation of having Oliver Tanaka's seed on my face.

  "Oh my GOD," I wheeze, my voice wrecked, barely reizable. I feel his cum dripping down my face, thid warm, some of it sliding into my mouth where I taste it again—that bitter, salty, chemical fvor that shouldn't be making my pussy tract with pleasure but IS.

  "I'm sorry," Oliver gasps, his cock still twitg, the st drops of cum oozing from the tip. "I couldn't—it was too much—"

  I stare up at him, my vision blurry from tears and cum, my mind reeling from the ued asm that just tore through me. The sheer VOLUME of his load is staggering—my mouth still full despite swallowing multiple times, my face coated in it, globs of it dripping onto my uniform top.

  "He came this muside me the other day," I think, a cold spike of fear cutting through the haze of post-asmic bliss. "No wonder I needed Pn B. I'm probably going to o take another oer this..."

  I spit out what's left in my mouth, watg it nd on the floor with a wet SPLAT. "You—you ANIMAL!" I snarl, my voice rasping in my abused throat. I struggle to my feet, legs shakih me, and shove him back against the wall. "Who said you could CUM? Who said you could grab my HAIR?"

  Oliver shrinks back, his expression terrified despite having just experienced what robably the blowjob of the tury. "I'm s-sorry, I couldn't help it—"

  "You're PATHETIC," I hiss, stepping closer, my faches from his. I smell myself on his cock—the musky st of my saliva mixed with the bitter tang of his cum. "You're disgusting and pathetid..." My voice trails off as I feel something prodding against my stomach.

  I look down in disbelief. His cock—that monstrous, inhuman appendage—is already hardening again, the head nudging against my cheer uniform, leaving a wet smear on the fabric.

  "You have GOT to be kidding me," I whisper.

  I stare at his revolting cock, still twitg from its eruption, strings of cum eg it to my lips like spider silk made of shame. But the worst part—the most HORRIFYING part—is that it's already hardening again, rising like some undead monster returning for a sed kill.

  "What the fuck is WRONG with you?" I snarl, cum-sticky spit flying from my lips. My brain feels fuzzy, like it's being choked by some invisible hand. All I think about is how that massive thi stretg my pussy st time, how it reached pces inside me I didn't ked, how it turned my womb into its personal cum-dump.

  "S-sorry," Oliver mumbles, his multiple s quivering. "I 't trol it around you."

  I 't tear my eyes away from it. The fug thing is hypnotic—pulsing with its owbeat, veins bulging like they might burst, the head swollen and angry, already leaking fresh precum to repce what it just power-washed down my throat.

  "Chad could never reach that deep," I think, immediately hating myself for the parison. Chad's dick is NORMAL. PROPORTIONAL. It doesn't bend me in half or rearrange my ans. It doesn't make me fug SQUIRT.

  "You better be grateful," I hiss, standing up on shaky legs, wiping his disgusting seed from my face with the bay hand. "There's not a girl in this school who would do what I just did. You'll die a virgin if it weren't for me."

  I grab his cock with my cum-sticky hand, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. My other hand yanks my soaked thong aside, the fabric making a wet SCHLICK as it peels away from my swollen lips.

  "This doesn't mean anything," I pant, aligning his massive head with my entrahis is just me exorg this—this THING from my system."

  Just as I feel the fred pressing against my opening, the door to the shed bangs open with a crash that nearly stops my heart.

  "TOUCHDOWN, MOTHERFUCKERS!" a familiar voice bellows.

  Tyler Johnson. Wide receiver. Chad's best friend.

  Shit. Shit. SHIT.

  I shove Oliver backward so violently he nearly falls, his disgusting cock sppily against his thigh. There's a ing closet behind us—barely big enough for a mop bucket, but it's our only option.

  "IN THERE!" I mouth, yanking the door open and pushing his massive bulk inside, following immediately after. I pull the door closed just as the lights fli outside.

  "Dude, pass me another!" That's definitely Brandon's voice, followed by the unmistakable sound of a beer being cracked open.

  The closet is MINUSCULE—a coffin-sized space that forces me chest-to-chest with Oliver's disgusting body. His belly presses against me, soft and yielding, his sweat immediately soaking through my uniform top. The smell is overwhelming—his unwashed body odor mixing with the lingering st of cum and the industrial er stored on the shelves around us.

  "Mmph!" Oliver starts to make a sound, and I sp my hand over his mouth, gring daggers at him in the otal darkness.

  "Not. A. Sound," I mouth silently.

  Outside, the voices grow louder as more pyers enter. I reize them all—Tyler, Brandon, Mike, Jamal—Chad's inner circle. The basketball guys must still be at the game; these are just the football elite.

  "Where's Chad, man?" Mike asks, the sound of more beer s opening following his question.

  "Probably looking for Bir," Tyler ughs. "Man's WHIPPED."

  " you bme him? Those fug TITS, bro," Brandon says, making a crude gesture I imagine even through the closet dirl's stacked like a fu' IHOP."

  "GYAT!" Jamal hoots, the stupid Gen Z sng making me roll my eyes even in my panic. "That ass too. The way it bounces when she does those jumps? I nearly bust on the spot."

  I feel my face burning. These assholes are my BOYFRIEND'S FRIENDS. They high-five me in the hallway, ask for help with calculus, act like perfect gentlemen when Chad's around.

  "Lucky bastard," Mike sighs. "Girls like Bir only fuck the star quarterback. That's like, the social tract."

  "She's hot but high maintenance as fuck," Tyler adds. "Chad says she's always buying shit with her daddy's credit card. Materialistic as hell."

  My hands ball into fists against Oliver's sweaty chest. The absolute NERVE of these hypocrites. They all beg for my attention at parties.

  "Chad says they fuck all the time," Brandon stage-whispers, like it's some massive secret. "Says he makes her cum so hard she cries."

  My blood boils. That LYING PIECE OF SHIT. Chad couldn't make me cum if I handed him a fug MAP with X marking the spot. He's told me "it's okay, babe, most girls 't finish from sex anyway" so many times I could scream.

  And that's when I feel it—Oliver's coow fully re-hardened, nudging insistently against my stomach. The stupid thing is so long it reaches almost to my belly button, leaving a wet smear of prey uniform.

  The closet is sweltering, both of us sweating profusely, the air thick with the smell of our bodies and the lingering chemical tang of ing supplies. I barely see Oliver's fa the sliver of light ing through the cra the door, but I FEEL him—every disgusting inch of him pressed against me, his breath hot on my face, his cock a burning brand against my skin.

  "Sorry," he whispers, so quietly it's almost imperceptible.

  I should be repulsed. I should be praying for the football guys to leave so I escape this nightmare. Instead, I'm remembering how that cock felt inside me, stretg me, filling me in ways Chad never could.

  My pussy throbs, ches arouy air.

  "Chad's probably still looking for Bir," Jamal says, followed by the sound of something being knocked over. "She's probably fixing her makeup or some shit. You know how those cheer girls are."

  "I'd give my left nut to motorboat those tits," Mike decres, to general hirity.

  Something in me snaps. Without thinking—without allowing myself to think—I hike my right leg up, brag my foot against a shelf, spreading myself open. My hand reaches between us, finding Oliver's cock, guiding it to my entrance.

  "What—" Oliver starts to whisper, but I press my other hand over his mouth again, harder this time.

  "Shut. Up," I mouth against his ear, my voice less than a breath.

  The head of his coudges against my pussy lips, the size of it still shog even after everything. I roll my hips forward, feeling the start to stretch me open, the pressure already borderline painful.

  And then the head pops in with a wet SCHLORP that seems deafeningly loud iiny closet. I have to bite my lip until I taste blood to keep fr out as the massive invader forces my pussy to aodate its girth.

  "Did you hear something?" Tyler asks, and I freeze, Oliver's cock throbbing painfully inside me.

  "Just the AC," Brandon replies after a moment. "This pce is old as fuck."

  I exhale silently, then slowly, carefully lower myself down another into Oliver's shaft. The stretch is exquisite—painful and pleasurable in equal measure, my body both fighting against and desperately craving the intrusion.

  Another inch. Then another. My pussy makes obse wet sounds as it struggles to accept him, my juices pushed out around his girth to run down my ihighs. I cmp my hand harder over Oliver's mouth as he tries to groan, his eyes wide and disbelieving in the dim light.

  "So anyway, Chad says Bir's a total freak once you get her going," Mike tinues, unaware of the depraved act happening just feet away. "Says she begs for it, like, g and shit."

  I sink down another in pure spite, feeling Oliver's cock push against my cervix, the pressure making stars explode behind my eyes. Chad wouldn't know what to do with a "freak" if one came with an instruanual.

  "Bet she calls him 'daddy' too," Jamal ughs. "Those rich girls always have daddy issues."

  I have to fight not to ugh hysterically. The only "daddy" in my vocabury is the one whose credit card paid for the uniform currently being soaked with sweat and cum and pussy juice as I impale myself on the cock of the school's biggest loser.

  With one final, desperate push, I take the st few inches, feeling Oliver bottom out inside me, his cock head battering against my cervix like it wants to break through.

  And then—oh GOD—I cum. Just from the iion. Just from the feeling of being PLETELY STUFFED FULL of dick.

  It's not a full-body asm like before, but a tight, squeezing micro-climax that makes my t walls ripple and ch around his fat fuckstick. My teeth cmp down on my lower lip so hard I taste blood, my eyes rolling back as my pussy vulses around him.

  "Mmmmmmf!" The moan vibrates in my throat but barely escapes, my hand now spped over my own mouth while my other arm s around Oliver's sweaty bulk, fingers digging into his back.

  We're frozen like that—me impaled on his cock, one leg hiked up awkwardly to aodate his girth, both of us sweating and panting silently as the football guys tiheir crude versation just feet away.

  I 't move. Not until they leave. And it's TORTURE—the most exquisite, maddening torture imaginable. Oliver's bitch-breaker is LODGED inside me, stretg my pussy lips into a tight, white-knuckled grip around his base. I feel every vein, every ridge, every throb. It's like having a topographical map of his cock imprinted on my insides.

  My t drools around him, thick rivulets of girl-slick running down my ihighs to pool in my cheer socks. The air iiny closet is thick with our mingled sts—my designer perfume mixing with his rancid body odor, creating a cocktail that should be revolting but instead has my clit throbbing like it's trying to send an SOS.

  Oliver's breath es in shallow, silent pants, his chest heaving against my tits, his hands h awkwardly at his sides, too afraid to touch me even though his massive cock is literally rearranging my guts.

  "Chad says..." Tyler's voice fades in and out as blood rushes in my ears, my entire sciousness narrowing to the feeling of being absolutely STUFFED with dick.

  I'm Bir Williams. Head cheerleader. Homeing queen. Dating the quarterback. 4.0 GPA. Instagram micro-influencer with a verified tag. And I'm standing in a ing closet with the school's resident disgusting otaku BALLS-DEEP inside me while my boyfriend's friends drink and brag just outside.

  What the FUCK is wrong with me?

  Finally—FINALLY—after what feels like hours but is probably only fifteen minutes, we hear them shuffling toward the door.

  "Brandon's parents won't be home until Monday," Tyler says. "Party's gon."

  "Think Bir will do that thing where she fshes everyone i tub again?" Mike asks, and I make a mental o destroy his social life on Monday.

  "Hope so, man. Those tits are fug EPIC."

  The door sms shut behind them, the sounds of their voices fading as they head toward the parking lot.

  For a moment, her Oliver nor I move. We're still frozen in our obse tableau, my leg cramping from being hiked up so long, his cock still throbbing insistently inside me.

  And then I SNAP.

  "FUCK!" I snarl, my voice finally released from its prison. I begin humping against him frantically, grinding my clit against his pubie, feeling his cock head batter against my cervix with eaent. "FUCK ME, you disgusting fug OTAKU!"

  Oliver whimpers, his hands finally nding on my hips, squeezing with surprising strength.

  I'm cumming again almost instantly, my t g down on his jizz-sti rhythmic pulses, my juices GUSHING out around him to sptter onto the floor. "NNNGH! FUUUCK! FUCK!"

  It's not enough. I need MORE. I need him deeper, harder, ROUGHER.

  I my legs around his waist, my cheer skirt hiked up around my stomach, my perfect tits pressing against his soft chest. "FUCK ME!" I demand, my voice a harsh whisper-scream. "FUCK ME RIGHT NOW!"

  Oliver's hands slide under my ass, lifting me slightly, and theHRUSTS—a sharp, upward jab that hits something so deep inside me I see stars.

  "AAAH!" I 't trol the scream that tears from my throat, my back arg against the closet wall.

  He does it again. And again. And again. The entire closet rattles with our movements, ing supplies cttering off shelves, the door threatening to burst open with each thrust.

  "Your boyfriend—" Oliver pants, his voice strained, "—doesn't make you—feel this way—does he?"

  "SHUT UP!" I snarl, even as my pussy ches around him in silent answer. "Just shut up and FUCK ME!"

  His pacreases, each thrust lifting me off my feet, my ass spping against his thighs with wet, obse sounds. My tits bounce violently in my top, threatening to spill out pletely.

  I'm cumming AGAIN, a tinuous wave of pleasure that builds and crests and builds again, my mind fracturing into a million glittering pieces. "OH GOD! OH FUCK! OH—AAAAAAHHHHH!"

  The scream is so loud, so untrolled, that it startles both of us. Oliver stumbles backward, his foot catg on something, and suddenly we're FALLING, bursting out of the closet in a tangle of limbs and fluids.

  We hit the floor hard, Oliver on top of me, his cock still buried to the hilt in my spasming t. The impact drives him even deeper, making me see white as he crushes my cervix.

  "Nnngh!" I throw my arm over my face, trying to hide the absolutely DEPRAVED expression I know is there—eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent scream, cheeks flushed with the most intense pleasure I've ever experienced.

  "Are—are you alright?" Oliver asks, genuinely ed despite the fact that his dick is still balls-deep in me.

  "OF COURSE I'M NOT ALRIGHT!" I screech, arm still c my face. "I'm getting FUCKED by the grossest guy in school and it's the best sex of my LIFE! I'm RUINED! You've RUINED ME!"

  Oliver starts to pull back, but I grab his shoulders, my nails digging into his soft flesh. "Don't you DARE stop!" I hiss, my voice crag with emotion.

  He stares down at me, his expression shifting from fusion to something darker, more fident. For the first time, I actually look into his eyes—really LOOK—and what I see there makes my pussy ch with anticipation.

  Behind those smudged gsses is a huhat matches my own.

  "Turn over," he ands, his voice dropping an octave, taking on a hardness I didn't know he possessed.

  I should tell him to fuck off. I should remind him who's in charge here.

  Instead, I find myself on my hands and knees, ass raised, face pressed to the dirty floor of the ste shed, my perfect cheer skirt flipped up over my back.

  Oliver moves behind me, his massive hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, and then—

  TH! SMACK! SQUELCH!

  He drives into me with one brutal thrust, bottoming out immediately, his balls spping against my clit. The impact is so violent it knocks the breath from my lungs, sending my tits swingih me like pendulums.

  "FUCK!" I scream, not g who might hear, not g about anything except the feeling of his bitch-breaker cock splitting me in half.

  He pulls bad sms faiing a punishing rhythm that has my entire body jerking forward with each thrust. My perfect French manicure scrapes against the dirty floor.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The sound of his thighs hitting my ass echoes through the shed, a meaty percussion of flesh on flesh. His balls—those massive, cum-filled orbs—swing forward to spank my clit with each thrust.

  "FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUCK!" I'm not even trying to be quiet anymore. My throat is raw, my voireizable, each word torn from somewhere primal and desperate inside me.

  Oliver's fingers dig into my hips hard enough to leave bruises, perfect finger-shaped reminders of my degradation that I'll have to hide during cheer practice. He's pounding me like a mae, each thrust pushing me forward on the filthy floor, my perfect manicure now chipped and broken from scrabbling against the crete.

  "Take it," he grunts, his voice deeper than I've ever heard it, nothing like the stuttering, apologetic mess from before. "Take this cock, Bir."

  My pussy responds with a gush of juice so copious it spshes audibly onto the floor beh us. The squelg, suing sounds are obse—SCHLORP, SQUISH, SHLACK—a wet symphony of my t trying to aodate his monster.

  "I 'T—I'M GONNA—AGAIN—" My words dissolve into i wailing as anasm crashes through me, this one so powerful my arms give out, my face pressing against the dirty floor as my ass remains high in the air, presented like a bit heat.

  My toually lolls out, lig the disgusting floor as I lose all bodily trol. Drool pools beh my cheek, mixing with tears and sweat and what remains of Oliver's y face. I'm a mess—a plete and total fug mess—my perfect Bir Williams facade shattered beyond repair.

  Oliver doesn't slow down. If anything, he speeds up, his cock jackhammering into me with a ferocity that would terrify me if it didn't feel so fug GOOD. My tits sp against each other beh me, the sound almost as loud as the wet SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP of his groin hitting my ass.

  "I'M CUMMING AGAIN!" I wail, my voice crag, almost sobbing with the iy. "I'M CUMMING ON YOUR DISGUSTING COCK AGAIN!"

  This asm is different—sharper, more focused, radiating outward from where he's battering against my cervix. It feels like he's rewiring my nervous system, reprogramming my body to respond only to his touch, his cock, his specific brand of nasty, animal rutting.

  "I'll never—" I gasp between thrusts, "—fuck—my boyfriend—again—OHGODOHGODOHGOD—"

  The realization hits me like a physical blow. Chad's respectable, average dick will never, EVER satisfy me after this. I'm ruined. pletely and utterly RUINED.

  Oliver's hands slide from my hips to my shoulders, pressi against the floor, his weight crushing me beh him. Now he's fug me prone bone, his massive bulk pinning me down, his coehow reag even DEEPER from this angle.

  SLAP-SQUELCH-SCHLORP! SLAP-SQUELCH-SCHLORP!

  Our bodies are so slick with sweat and fluids that we slide against each other, creating this obse slip-and-slide effect with each thrust. I feel his disgusting belly pressing against my lower bad ass, jiggling with each impact, and the sensation should repulse me but instead just adds to the overwhelming tapestry of degradation.

  "Gonna—cum—" Oliver pants against my ear, his breath hot and reeking of Mountain Dew and ranch-fvored chips.

  I should stop him. I should push him off, demand he pull out, protect myself from another flood of his potent, baby-making cum.

  Instead, I push my ass back against him, taking him impossibly deeper, feeling the head of his coudge against my cervix with bruising force.

  "DO IT!" I scream, my voice hoarse, barely human. "CUM INSIDE ME! I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!"

  His rhythm falters, bees erratic, each thrust harder and deeper tha. I feel his cock swelling even rger inside me, the veins pulsing against my walls, the head expanding like it's trying to force its way directly into my womb.

  And then I feel it—his cockhead sealing itself against my cervix like a vacuum-locked plug, creating a perfect seal that allows no escape. His balls tighten against my pussy lips, drawing up as they prepare to empty their massive load.

  "FUCK! BLAIR! I'M—"

  SPLOOOOORT!

  The first jet hits my cervix with such force I swear I feel my womb expand from the pressure. It's scalding hot, thick as paste, shooting directly through the tiny opening of my cervix to fill my womb with his disgusting seed.

  The sensation—the sheer, overwhelming INVASION of it—triggers the most intense asm of my life. It's not just my pussy trag; it's my entire reproductive system spasming in respoo his deposit.

  "UNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHAAAAA!" The sound that tears from my throat isn't even human—it's animal, primal, the howl of a creature experieng something beyond pleasure, beyond prehension.

  SPLURT! BLORRT! SPLAAAT!

  He keeps cumming, each pulse delivering ahick, ky rope of fuckslop directly into my waiting womb. I FEEL it filliretg me from the inside, my lower abdomen actually distending slightly from the sheer volume.

  My body responds with its own fluids—squirting violently around his shaft, gushing slick over his balls, creating a puddle beh us that spreads with each passing sed. I'm pissing myself with pleasure, my body pletely beyond my trol, every fun now dedicated to receiving his seed.

  "So much—" I babble, my face still pressed to the floor, eyes rolled back so far only the whites show.

  SPLORCH! SPLURCH! GLORP!

  His akes these unholy sounds as it tio deposit load after load inside me, the excess finally forced back around his shaft to leak down my thighs in thick, globby rivers. It feels like he's dumping a gallon of hot chowder directly into my babymaker, and my body is THANKING him for it, my t g and rippling around him to milk out every st drop.

  The asm doesn't stop—it builds and builds, my sciousness fracturing into a kaleidoscope of pure sensation. I'm dimly aware that I'm making these pathetic mewling sounds, like a kitten being stepped on, but I 't stop, 't trol anything about my body anymore.

  "Cumming—still—cumming—" I whimper, drool poolih my face, my perfect cheerleader persona pletely obliterated.

  Everything goes dark for a moment—my brain simply shutting down from the overload of stimution. When I e to, Oliver has pulled out, his softening aking a wet SCHLORP as it leaves my body, followed immediately by a GUSHING torrent of cum.

  "Oh my GOD," I gasp, rolling onto my back, my legs spread wide, pletely past g about dignity.

  I look down at myself—at what I've bee. My pristine cheer uniform is RUINED—soaked with sweat, spit, cum, and pussy juice. My top has ridden up to expose my bra, which is now semi-transparent from sweat. My skirt is bunched around my waist, useless as actual clothing. My thong has been pushed aside for so long it's created a painful red welt on my hip.

  But the worst part—the most REVOLTING part—is the absolute RIVER of cum oozing from my stretched, gaping pussy. It flows out in thick, ky globs, like someone filled me with lumpy oatmeal and then punched me iomach. The stuff is EVERYWHERE—poolih my ass, flowing down the crack to the floor, coating my ihighs in slimy, off-white sludge.

  It's so thick, so copious, that it actually makes a sound as it exits me—BLORRT, SPLORCH, GLORP—a nasty symphony of evacuation.

  "With this much baby batter..." I think, my fingers sliding down to my abused slit, spreading my swollen lips to watch more jizz-sludge ooze out. "...I could easily get knocked up."

  The thought should terrify me. Instead, my clit throbs, and my fingers start cirg it without scious thought, rubbing through the disgusting mixture of our fluids.

  I look up at Oliver, who's standing there in disbelief, staring down at me with wide eyes. His shirt is soaked with sweat, his anime waifu's face distorted across his gut. His pants and boxers are still around his ankles, and his disgusting, cum-covered cock hangs between his legs.

  No, wait. It's not hanging anymore. It's...twitg. Swelling. Rising like a phoenix from the ashes, the head already purpling with renewed i.

  "I might already be pregnant," I hear myself say, my voice wrecked beynition. "So... no real harm in doing it again..."

  Thirty mier, I'm bent over a stack of gym mats, my face pressed against the vinyl c, my ass raised high as Oliver pounds into me from behind. My cheer top has been discarded, my sports bra pushed up to expose my tits, which swing wildly with each thrust.

  SLAP-SQUELCH-SLAP! SLAP-SQUELCH-SLAP!

  "FUCK ME!" I scream, pletely past g if anyone hears.

  Oliver's grip on my hips tightens, his pace being jackhammer-fast, each thrust sending a shockwave through my body. My tits sp against each other beh me.

  "Bir," he moans, his voice strained. "Bir, you're so—you're so—"

  He starts to lean down, his sweaty face approag mine, and I panic.

  "WAIT!" I shove my hand against his cheek, pushing him away. "Your face is too close!"

  He looks hurt, but doesn't stop his relentless pounding. "Sorry, I just—"

  "We're just having sex," I pant, my voice breaking as he hits a particurly sensitive spot inside me. "So don't get carried away, okay? It's physically, morally, and socially IMPOSSIBLE for me to kiss you, got it?"

  Ten minutes after that, I'm on my ba the teacher's desk, my legs ed around his waist, his cock driving into me with pile-driver force. Every thrust sends a SLAP-SLAP-SLAP eg through the room, my ass reddened from the stant impact.

  Oliver leans down, his face h over mine, sweat dripping from his brow onto my cheeks. Before I stop him, his mouth desds on mine, engulfing me in a sloppy, aggressive kiss that tastes like Mountain Dew and desperation.

  "NO KISSES!" I try to say, but it es out as a muffled "MMMPHHH!" against his lips.

  Despite my protest, my tongue instinctively meets his, my lips moving against his with equal fervor. He moans my o my mouth—"Birrrrr"—the sound vibrating through me as his cock tis relentless assault on my insides.

  The worst part? I'm kissing him back. Actually kissing this disgusting otaku, moaning into his mouth like I'm in a fug romanovel.

  By midnight, the transformation is plete. My cheerleader uniform is scattered across the floor in twisted, cum-soaked pieces—the top hanging from a shelf, the skirt crumpled in a er, my thong torn pletely in half. All I'm wearing are my once-white cheer socks, now soiled with dirt and cum and God knows what else.

  I'm on my knees on the filthy floor, legs spread wide, ass resting on my heels, the position highlighting the perfect heart shape of my buttocks. Cum leaks steadily from my gaping hole, adding to the puddle beh me, but I don't care—all my attention is focused oask at hand.

  Or rather, the task at mouth.

  GLURK-GLURK-GLURK! HRRRRK! GLAAAACK!

  Oliver's cock slides in and out of my throat, my lips stretched obsely around his girth. My hands grip his thighs for support, nails digging into the soft flesh. My perfectly highlighted hair is a tangled, cum-crusted mess, my makeup smeared beynition, bck trails of mascara streaking down my cheeks.

  "Bir," Oliver groans, his hands tentatively toug my head. "That feels... awesome!"

  I force him deeper, determio take all of him, feeling the massive head push past the bay mouth into my throat proper. My eyes water, tears mixing with the remnants of earlier facials.

  SLLUK-GLUK-GLUK!

  "He got hard AGAIN!" my mind screams in disbelief, feeling his cock swell even rger in my mouth. "How is this possible?"

  The answer, of course, is that he's a fug teenage boy getting his first real sexual experience, and his body is making up fhteen years of pent-up frustration and jag off to hentai.

  I pull back, gasping for air, strands of spit eg my lips to his cockhead.

  "You're disgusting," I rasp, my voipletely shot from hours of screaming and throating.

  Oliver just stares down at me, his face flushed and sweaty, his gsses fogged over.

  I drag myself to my feet, legs trembling so badly I have to brace myself against the wall. I look down at my body—what's left of Bir Williams, Head Cheerleader, Queen Bee, perfe personified.

  My thighs are coated in a thick, shimmering yer of mingled fluids—his endless cum mixed with my own excessive arousal, creating a slimy gze from my ko my crotch. Each time I shift my weight, I feel anush of warm sludge ooze from my abused hole, adding to the mess.

  "Oh my GOD," I whimper, my fingers dippiween my legs to feel what he's doo me.

  My oight, perfect cheerleader pussy is noing, cum-drooling mess. The lips are swollen to twice their normal size, puffy and red and obsely spread apart. When I slide two fingers inside, I meet almost ance—just a squelg, sloppy embrace from tissues stretched beynition.

  "What have you DOo me?" I whisper, more to myself than to him.

  SPLORT! Anlob of his cum pushes itself out, plopping onto the floor between my feet with a wet, nasty sound.

  The puddle beh me is shog—a creamy white pond of bodily fluids that's spread to nearly a foot in diameter. Some of it has already started to geal at the edges, turning slightly yellow and crusty.

  "Look what came out of me," I say, gesturing at the mess with horrified fasation. "There's so MUCH of it. I'm going to get pregnant for sure this time."

  The thought should terrify me. Instead, my fingers drift to my clit, cirg it zily as I watch more cum ooze out of me like toothpaste from a tube.

  "You 't get me pregnant," I murmur, my fingers moving faster. "I'm Bir Williams. I'm dating Chad Thompson. I'm going to ell year."

  But even as I say it, my other hand slides down to my gaping hole, two fingers dipping into the cum-stuffed cavity, swirling around in the mixture.

  Oliver shifts his weight, and my eyes snap to his groin. Impossibly, he's pletely rock-hard.

  "No way," I breathe, my fingers stilling on my clit. "There's no fug way."

  But the evidence is right in front of me—twelve inches of veiny, pulsating cock standing proudly from his groin, the head dark purple and already leaking fresh precum.

  "How? HOW?" I demand, my voice crag. "You've cum like, a gallon already!"

  Oliver shrugs, looking almost apologetic.

  I should stop. I should get dressed in whatever's left of my uniform and run—RUN—to the pharmaore Pn B. I should block Oliver's ransfer schools, maybe move to aate.

  Instead, I find myself sinking to the floor, spreading my legs wide, fingers returning to my clit as I stare at his monstrous ere.

  "I'm just a hole for your disgusting cock," I whisper, the words falling from my lips without scious thought.

  ---

  Now I'm bent backward over a stack of chairs, my head hanging upside down, my tits boung furiously as Oliver pounds into me from above. My legs are ed around his soft waist, heels digging into his back, holding him close.

  SLAP-SQUISH-SLAP! SLAP-SQUISH-SLAP!

  "DEEPER!" I shriek, my hair brushing the floor with each brutal thrust. "FUCK ME DEEPER!"

  My tits are a mess—covered in faint red marks from Oliver's surprisingly strong grip, nipples swollen and raw from his inexperienced sug. They bound jiggle with each impact, hypnoti their motion.

  "I'm gonna—again—" Oliver grunts, his rhythm faltering.

  "DO IT!" I scream, my back arg even further, my pussy at the perfegle for maximum peion. "FILL ME UP AGAIN!"

  ---

  It must be close to 1 AM now. Brandon's party is in full swing across town, the football team celebrating their victory without their star cheerleader. Chad has probably texted me fifty times, called twenty.

  I don't care.

  I'm on my ba the floor now, pletely naked except for my once-white cheer socks, now stained beyond salvation. Oliver looms over me, his massive bulk pressio the cold crete. His hands grip my ankles, pushing my legs up and apart in a wide V, my flexibility from years of cheerleading finally serving a purpose beyond pompom routines.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  Each thrust drives his cock straight down into me, the angle allowing him to hit depths that make stars explode behind my eyes. My tits bounce violently toward my face with each impact, sweat flying from my nipples in tiny droplets.

  "YEEEEESSSS!" I wail, my hands reag up to grab his shoulders, pulling him closer. "FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUCK MEEEEE!"

  Oliver's face is inches from mine, his expression a mixture of tration and disbelief, like he 't quite accept that this is happening. Sweat drips from his forehead onto my face, mingling with my own perspiration.

  And then—oh GOD—I do the unthinkable. I pull him down further, my arms ing around his neck, and I KISS HIM. Not a quick, actal brushing of lips, but a deep, passionate, HUNGRY kiss that has our tongues battling for dominance.

  I'm kissing Oliver Tanaka. Willingly. DESPERATELY. My tongue expl his mouth, tasting the Mountain Dew and Doritos that's apparently his entire diet, and I don't care. I don't CARE.

  His pudgy body covers mine pletely, his soft belly pressing against my toned abdomen, his sweaty chest fttening my perfect tits. We're as physically close as two humans be—his cock buried to the hilt inside me, our mouths fused together, our bodies moving as one.

  SQUELCH-SLAP! SQUELCH-SLAP! SQUELCH-SLAP!

  His hands leave my ao grab my tits, those sausage fingers kneading the soft flesh with clumsy enthusiasm. I moan into his mouth, arg my back to press them more firmly into his grasp.

  These are the tits that unched a thousa dreams—the ohat Jamal wao motorboat, that Tyler cimed could suffocate a man, that Chad brags about to his friends. And now they're being groped by the school's resident disgusting otaku, his salms leaving shiny trails across the perfectly tanned skin.

  Our kiss grows sloppier, more desperate, saliva running down my as our tongues battle for domi's disgusting and perfed I never want it to stop.

  "Bir," Oliver gasps against my lips, "I think I'm starting to—"

  "Shut up," I growl, biting his lower lip hard enough to make him yelp. "Just keep fug me."

  The realization hits me with the force of a physical blow—why this feels so good, why my body is responding so inteo his disgusting cock.

  It's not just sex. It's not just fug.

  He's impregnating me.

  My body KNOWS it, on some primal, evolutionary level. My eggs are practically doing backflips, cheering this intruder on as he batters against my cervix.

  This isn't like with Chad—performative, careful Hollister sex where he pulls out even with a on, where we discuss our futures and college pns afterward.

  This is rutting. Mating. BREEDING.

  "Oh my GOD," I moan, the realization making my pussy ch violently around him. "You're breeding me!"

  Oliver's rhythm falters for a moment, his eyes widening behind his gsses. "W-what?"

  "Your disgusting otaku cock is BREEDING ME!" I wail, my legs ing around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Yonna knock me up with yross anime babies!"

  The words should terrify me. Instead, they send me hurtling over the edge into the most intense asm yet, my entire body vulsih him.

  "I'M CUMMING! I'M FUG CUMMING!"

  My pussy goes into overdrive, g and releasing around his shaft in violent spasms. My toes curl so hard my soearly tear, my back arg off the floor, my mouth open in a silent scream as the pleasure short-circuits my brain.

  And that's when I feel it—his cock swelling from base to tip, the veins throbbing against my walls, the head expanding to its full, terrifying size. He's about to cum again, about to flood my fertile womb with another massive load of his potent seed.

  "NNNNGH! BLAIR!" Oliver's voice breaks as his asm hits, his hips driving forward with bruising force, burying him to the absolute hilt inside me.

  SPLOOOOORT! SPLURCH! BLORRT!

  It's scalding hot, thicker than before, like his balls have been trating it to maximum potency.

  I 't think—'t form words, 't process anything beyond the overwhelmiion of being FILLED. My mind goes pletely, blissfully bnk, all thoughts dissolving into a white-hot sea of pure pleasure.

  "Aaaaaa... aaahhh... nnnngh..." I sounds dribble from my lips as my eyes roll back, showing only whites. My body jerks and twitches beh him, pletely beyond my trol.

  SPLURCH! SPLURT! GLORP!

  He keeps cumming, each pulse delivering ahick, ky rope deep inside me. I probably look a few weeks pregnant already from all the cum he's pumped into me.

  The asm doesn't stop—it transforms, evolving into something beyond pleasure, beyoion. I'm floating somewhere outside my body, watg this cheerleader get bred by this disgusting otaku, and it's the most beautiful, perfect thing I've ever seen.

  When I e bayself, minutes or hours ter, Oliver has colpsed beside me on the floor, his cock finally—FINALLY—softening.

  I lie there in a daze, staring at the ceiling, feeling cum leak steadily from my destroyed hole.

  "Bir?" Oliver's voice is tentative, almost shy. "Are you... okay?"

  I turn my head to look at him, taking in his sweat-soaked anime shirt (which he never fully removed), his foggy gsses, his disheveled hair.

  "No," I whisper truthfully. "I'm not okay. I'm never going to be okay again."

  He looks stri, starting to sit up. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

  "Shut up," I sigh, closing my eyes. "Just... shut up."

  I feel movement beside me, then the sensation of something warm and soft dragging ay face. I open my eyes to find Oliver wiping his cum-coated coy cheek, using my face like a dirty tissue.

  "WHAT THE FUCK?!" I try to sound ed, but it es out weak, almost pyful.

  "S-sorry," he stammers, withdrawing immediately. "I didn't know what else to use..."

  I should be furious. I should be disgusted. Instead, my tongue darts out, lig at the cum smear he's left on my face, tasting that now-familiar bitter saltiness.

  "Don't... don't get carried away," I mumble between licks, my tongue reag up to trace the underside of his cock head as he holds it nervously above my face. "This doesn't... mean anything..."

  The words sound hollow even to my own ears. I'm lying naked on a filthy floor, covered i and cum from head to toe, my once-perfect cheerleader body thhly defiled, my pussy stretched and ruined and leaking enough cum to impreghe entire cheer squad. My phone has been buzzing non-stop on the floor nearby, Chad's calls as going unanswered.

  "So, um..." Oliver shifts awkwardly, tug his finally-soft cock bato his boxers. " I text you...?"

  I stare at him in disbelief, then dissolve into hysterical ughter that quickly transforms into exhausted sobbing.

  Bir Williams—head cheerleader, queen bee, social apex predator—has been utterly, pletely quered by the grossest boy in school and his monster cock.