This is a story. It never happened and never will. The General Disclaimer is incorporated herein by reference.

BR&T date: Monday, 25 March 1996

A line of fifth-grade students, fifteen boys and about half as many girls, entered the gymnasium, but not for gym class. They kept to the east wall as they crossed the room, until they reached the door to the drama classroom, just east of the stage that dominated the north end of the combination gymnasium, lunch room, and auditorium. The drama teacher, Mr. Al Cerloki, hurried them into the classroom and had them sit.

"You've all been putting on other people's productions for years, with someone else directing," he said. "Now you're ready to tackle tougher projects: writing, directing, and acting in your own creations. Stories that some of you will write yourselves and others of you will perform in."

The fifth-grade students looked apprehensive or excited, depending on their previous experiences in the drama class.

"Each of the boys in fifth grade, including the other fifth grade class at the same time, will be assigned to write a play and be the director. The play each boy writes must star two girls that I will assign him to write the play about. A girl's assignment will be to star in whatever play the boy writes. One girl will be from this class or a fourth-grade class, usually, sometimes a lower grade, and the other will be younger, usually from first or second grade. The boys will be graded on their play, and the girls will be graded on their performance in it."

The girls grew even more apprehensive. The boys grew even more excited.

"Can we write the play about anything?" a boy asked.

"As long as it can be performed on a stage at a school, then yes, you can write the play to be anything you want it to be, and the girls and other actors will perform it, with you as director. Anything you can imagine that's possible to act out on a stage at school on a low budget. Be as creative as you want, but anything spent on props for it has to be your own money."

The teacher waved a clipboard. "Your play has to star only the two girls you'll be assigned. You can add in some boys, and they'll be played by boys at school, they'll get extra credit by the way, and you can add in some men, and they'll be played by volunteers from the local drama club, but those will only be supporting roles. The play has to star the two girls that I'll pick for you, and no other girls. The play or plays that I judge to be best will be performed on stage at school program night, or on a real stage with assistance from the drama club."

He began reading from the clipboard. "Here are your assignments. Gerry, you get Cassi and Ruth. That's Cassi in this class, and her little sister, Ruth, in second grade east."

"Yes!!" Gerry shouted. Cassi glanced at him nervously, but figured he wasn't the worst one she could have been given. She and her sister would probably fare better than many other girls at school, she thought, relieved.

"Ryan, you're assigned Sara Jessica Carson, from fourth grade east, and Nicole Miller, from first grade north." The remaining boys all groaned, their hopes dashed already. "You can go get them from their classrooms now if you need their help deciding what your play will be about."

"Oh, I already know them both," Ryan declared. He thought a few seconds, then asked slyly, "Can it be a true story?"

"Sure," the drama teacher said. "Did you already have something in mind?"

Ryan nodded. "Yes, I think I'll have it be about two girls who have to go to ra- um, I mean get to walk to therapy together. For four blocks. And back afterward."

"That sounds like a fine idea." He returned to the clipboard and gave the next boy his assignment. "Cliff, your two stars will be Hannah and Dolly Smith." The remaining boys all groaned in disappointment again, when they realised they now had no chance to get Hannah, either.

"But Mr. Cerloki," the boy objected, "Hannah and Dolly Smith can't star in my play. They aren't even in school anymore, ever since... you know."

"Well," the teacher answered, "these assignments were decided back when they were here. Go ahead and write it as if they would star in it anyway, and maybe we'll find a couple of girls to be in it, or perform it on another stage later." He winked at the boy, who suddenly grinned with understanding and kept quiet.

"Jake, your play will star Kaiah in fourth east, and her little sister Terra from first grade south. Do you need to go get them, to help you come up with ideas?"

"No," Jake answered. "As long as I can do anything I want with them, I'm sure something will come up. In fact, I just decided it'll be a play about standing at attention and saluting the flag! Lots of guys will have big parts in it, you'll see!" Several other boys in the class chuckled, their third groans forgotten.

"Remember it has to be performed on the stage here at school," the teacher reminded him. "Only if it's good enough can you get special permission to perform it elsewhere." He consulted the clipboard and read off assignments for two close friends, Perry and Eric.

"Hey, he got my little sister, and I got his little sister," one of the two boys pointed out. "Can we switch?"

"No, Perry," the teacher stated bluntly. "I already explained that you have to do what you can with the girls you get assigned. You can be in his play, and he can be in yours, if both of you agree."

"Yuck! I don't want to be in a play with my sister! I want to be in a play with his sister. If we can't switch, can we at least be in our own plays?" Perry asked.

The teacher shook his head. "No, you're the writer, producer, and director, so you can't be one of the actors. That's considered tacky, or at least the height of arrogance. You can pick anyone else you want as the supporting actors, and they can pick you if they need boys in their plays. You can make suggestions about Eric's play if you have any ideas for him, but the final decisions are his."

The two boys looked at each other. Perry leaned closer and whispered, "I'll tell you later what I want you to do to to Sania, and you can tell me what I should do to Darcie!"

Mr. Cerloki finished going through the assignments, ending with the last boy in the class to be assigned. "Sorry, Tyler, you get Mary Clair-"

"Bitters!?" Tyler interrupted. "Aw crap! " he wailed. "That's not fair! How can I have a good play with her in it? Who else did I get stuck with? Some butt-faced monkey from public school?"

"You seem to already know Mary Claire Bitters. Your other star will be Asia Manson, of Bunnytail," the teacher said emphatically. "First grade south. If you don't know her, go get her."

The boy brightened considerably. "I've seen her around," he said. "In fact, Asia was one of the two in hallway detention last wednesday, her and Brook Deep something, a coupla real dolls, both of 'em. How about a play about bullying? Would something like that be okay?"

The teacher nodded, trying to stifle a laugh. "I figured whoever got Mary Claire would get an idea like that. I didn't pair her with a little sweetie for nothing. Keep in mind you can have as many volunteers from the local drama club as they can get, and any other Bunnytail boys that you want. Just make sure the girls are the stars. I'm sure you'll think of good ways to use both of them."

"I bet he's already thought of a few good ways to use Asia," Eric snickered. "If not, I could give him some of my ideas." Tyler just grinned.

"You should save your ideas for your own play," the teacher admonished. "The stars of your play," he consulted his clipboard, "Belina and Sania, deserve everything you can give them. As the writer and director, that is."

Belina, who had already moved as far from Eric as she could, knew what a protest would get her, so she bit her lip nervously and kept quiet.

He turned to speak to the entire class. "Your play must be written and practiced on the stage during class time, so I can judge them and decide which ones will be performed for parents and the community on school program night. There will only be time for one or two, so don't be too disappointed if I don't pick yours. Rough drafts of scripts are due next week, so get busy! You can worry about revisions later. Cassi, go get Ruth from her classroom now, so Gerry can get an idea what sort of play he wants to write."

At the end of class, Gerry approached the drama teacher hesitantly. "Mr. Cerloki?" he asked. "I have a problem. Can I ask a favor?"

"That depends on what it is. What's the problem?"

"Ruth thinks she's supposed to write the play! She thinks she gets to do whatever she wants! The whole time I talked with Cassi and Ruth, Ruth never shut up for ten seconds, always telling me what to do. The favor I want is two things. Mostly, I want her to be gagged during the whole play! Please??"

Mr. Cerloki considered the request. "Of course Ruth can be gagged during the whole play. You're the writer, after all, so write it however you want. What else were you wanting?"

"The second thing is I don't want either of them to know what the play is going to be until we do it. That means we can't practice the play at all, at least not with them. I'll write it and tell you what it will be, and if you let us, we'll just do it for the first time on program night. Please??"

"If you can write it up before class next week, and it's good enough, I'll give you a chance at the other, too. It better be good, since the principal will have to approve the idea also."

"Thanks! I know you'll love it. Even if Cassi and Ruth don't."

'Especially if they don't,' the drama teacher thought. The little playwright departed, eager to get to work on something the drama teacher and the principal would love. And something Ruth would absolutely hate. He had some nice ideas. He figured two men from the drama club would be enough.

BR&T date: Monday, 1 April 1996

The next week, Sara Jessica and little Nicole had to leave their own classes to go 'practice' Ryan's play during his drama class period.

Well, 'had to' didn't necessarily apply, since it got Sara out of the stocks in her classroom. She didn't get to get dressed, though, not even so much as the courtesy of letting her put her panties back on before going with Ryan.

The boy writing the play she had to star in was the leader of the five boys who were in detention the day she started school, and he was one of the two 'good citizens' who had stripped that Brownie girl stark naked at the school assembly and cruelly tied her up to be spanked. Also, at that assembly, he'd thrown all six of his tokens in to spank her, Sara had neither forgotten nor forgiven.

Sara still thought it was a lot better than staying in the stocks with every boy in her class having what seemed to be free license to get up whenever he wanted and do whatever he wanted to do to her while she whimpered and squirmed and tried to keep from screaming. She'd been threatened that she'd be sent to the principal if she 'disturbed' the class again. It didn't seem to matter at all how much the boys 'disturbed' her!

How strange it was, she thought, that she felt relieved to be going down the hallway naked with a fifth-grade boy, a mean and nasty one at that, to practice a play he'd written that she knew nothing about.

He let Sara stay out in the hallway when he entered a first-grade classroom. When he returned a minute later, both Sara and little Nicole were surprised they'd been assigned to be in the same play. "On second thought," he told little Nicole, "give me your clothes. I'll leave them at your desk." When she hesitated, he calmly but icily asked, "Are you doing what you're told? Give me your clothes. All of them." Little Nicole quickly stripped naked in the hallway and gave her clothes to the boy. She stood with her back to the wall, covering her pussy and titties, like Sara had already been doing. He casually tossed her clothes through the classroom door and led the two naked girls away, down the hall, through the gym (with a gym class there to stare as they passed), to the drama class and the stage in the gymnasium.

Ryan lined up the Bunnytail boys he'd selected to be supporting actors in his play, and had the girls stand facing him, in front of the line of boys. Sara considered covering her bare bottom from the view of about a dozen boys, including the other four boys who had been with him in detention, but instead kept her arm in place to hide her titties from Ryan, the director of the play. Indecisively, little Nicole kept moving her arm between the two locations, thus allowing all of the boys a view of her nakedness more than half the time. Both of the girls kept their pussies covered.

"This play is based on a true story," he explained to his actors and actresses, "of two girls who have to go to 'rape therapy' every week." He snickered at the looks Sara and little Nicole gave him. "The play covers the part where they walk down the street to the therapist. There are only cheap props, since if I want anything better, I have to pay for it myself or get donations, so you'll have to use your imaginations for some of them. Those white cardboard squares lined up from one end of the stage to the other are a sidewalk, okay? That hat rack is a street sign. If we do the play for real, I'll have better pretend street signs on it. But this is for real."

He pulled a spool of cord out of a bag, followed by a couple of leather dog collars. The two girls cringed the instant they saw the collars and cord. "And these are real!" he exclaimed, as he upended the bag, spilling out about a dozen thick leather belts. "Everybody take one. Except you two. These are for you," he said, holding up the dog collars. "Come stand here with your backs to me and put your wrists together behind your necks."

Repeated desperate wails of "No! No! Oh no no no no!!" incited laughter as the dozen supporting actors picked up the belts and made sure everyone had one.

All of the boys had already memorised their one line. "Where are you going?" one of the boys asked Sara as he stopped her from running away.

Ryan gripped her arm and pulled her toward him. "Your line, every time they say that," he instructed her, "is 'My name is Sara Jessica Carson. I'm ten...' Ah, never mind, you both know what you're supposed to say, and you both better say it or both of you will go straight to the principal the way you are. Understood? Now hold still while I finish tying the cords, then walk back and forth on the sidewalk, one end of the stage to the other and back, until I say it's been four blocks. I figure about ten to fifteen times each way."

Sobbing, hurting from the tight cords on her wrists keeping her elbows bent and her hands behind her neck, Sara turned to see the rest of the stage. Behind her, she heard little Nicole crying quietly, tied identically. She looked in dismay at the dozen boys lined up beside the fake sidewalk, on the side away from the audience so as not to block the view of the 'stars' of the play. They looked back at her in delight. Each one had a belt in hand, ready to 'practice' the play. She looked at the drama teacher without much hope, but a little, as he sat in a chair in front of the stage, taking notes on his clipboard. 'Oh please, oh please, don't make me do this,' she begged him silently.

"Action!" he yelled impatiently. "I want to see some action. Now!"

"Where are you going!?" the nearest boy called to her.

She gave a despairing look at the director. He pointed along the sidewalk, then pointed quickly at the door that led to the principal's office, then he shoved her shoulder. If she refused, she would get little Nicole sent to the principal too. She hoped that little Nicole understood that their fates were the same, and would follow her. Sara sobbed harder and hesitantly took a step. Then another. "My- my name- is Sara Jessica Carson. I'm ten years old. I- I'm going to get... to get raa-"

Whaacckkk!

"AUUyyawww!! ... raaaaped!" With her wrists tied, she couldn't even wipe the tears from her face, nor protect herself from the belts, let alone cover her titties or naked pussy from the dozen cruel stares. She took another step. She wished her daddy could see all the things they did to her at this school. He'd surely save her. Sobbing, she took another step toward the rest of the eager boys lined up waiting for her.

With relief, Sara heard a small voice behind her, "My name is Nicole Claire Miller. I'm seven years old. I'm going to get raped." Her relief lasted until the instant two belts struck at once and two high voices shrieked and bawled as one.

Twenty more cardboard squares to go, Sara thought. Then back. Then again, and again and again and again, as the drama teacher just sat there and took notes!! "My name is Sara Jessica Ca- AAauuuwwww! Auuww son... I'm t- ten years old. I'm going to get raped!" She despaired, wondering if she and little Nicole would actually get raped right there on the stage in front of everyone. She hoped not.

A man holding a remote control scrolled through the names on the menu on his television screen. He chose SARA JESSICA CARSON and the television showed a different list of items, the most recent at the top, each with the number of current viewers. He'd seen most of them already, but checked daily for any new SARA vids, usually finding one or two more each day. He considered the one called STOCKS (2284 viewers) but chose the item above it, LIVE. (Not bad, 11309 viewers already!) He smiled and sat back to enjoy the show, wondering if Sara and little Nicole would actually get raped right there on the stage in front of everyone. He sure hoped so.

"Your play has a great starting act, Ryan," the drama teacher complimented his student as they walked the hallway back to the boy's homeroom at the end of the class period. "I like how you set the scene with the two stars, Sara and Nicole, walking down the street on the way to their therapy session. Having the girls tell everyone where they were going was a nice touch."

"I can't really take credit for that part," Ryan admitted modestly. "I did say it was based on a true story."

"Fine," Mr. Cerloki continued, "but the supporting actors you chose played their parts with enthusiasm, and your props were nearly perfect. There's room for improvement there, particularly the collars. I'll tell you where to get better props from a local production crew that makes videos, if you're interested."

Ryan smiled and nodded. "Sure, but tell them I can only afford free props. Would they let me borrow them during the play?"

"I'm sure something can be arranged, if you let them film the play," the drama teacher said with a wink. "Your final scene was a nice conclusion to the action set up by the opening scene, having the girls walk back home the same way they did before, just with different lines."

"Again, based on a true story," Ryan repeated.

"The big problem with your play is that you jump straight from the first scene to the last one, so the audience has trouble believing that anything actually happened in between the two scenes. I'm afraid that your audience was probably very disappointed at what was missing. I mean, they would be," he corrected himself quickly, "if there had been an audience. Your play would be much better with a 'climax' scene -- yes, that's what it's called -- that the dialog in the first scene predicts and the final scene confirms. I'll leave it up to you how to do that, and I'll grade you on the result after the next practice session. You might consider basing it on the same true story. Remember, you can ask for all the volunteers you need from the local theater group." He patted the boy on the back and turned away, thus neither of them saw the other's sly grin.