Little Lovers: Prologue - Emotional Devastation
by The Pediatrician
gg; mast; nosex
The SUV rounded a curve in the highway as the screen of trees fell off to the side, and the late afternoon sun blasted through the windshield and directly onto the hot, sticky girl. Brooke felt the bare skin of her arms, her chest, and her flat, vaguely-ribbed belly prickle under the heat, and she sighed as she wondered for what felt like the umpteen-billionth time why her mother – her successful attorney mother – insisted on driving through one of the hottest days of the past fifty billion years without air conditioning. “Mu-ohm,” she whined, “it’s hot!”
“Well, roll down the window.” Even clad in a simple tee-shirt and pair of jeans Debbie Landon didn’t seem affected by the heat, but she still pressed two fingers down on her armrest in order to provide her eldest daughter just a bit of relief. The windows to either side of them hummed as they slid down, and instantly the thirty-two year old woman’s light-brown hair whipped around in the wind that filled the cabin. “Is that better?” she asked, raising her voice to be audible over the roar that consumed everything else within the vehicle.
“Yeah mom, perfect, thanks.” The fifteen-year-old tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she scowled and looked out the open window. Unlike her mother she had the foresight to pull her medium-brown hair back into a ponytail to keep all but the strayest of strands out of her eyes, but even though she was dressed in far less than the older woman behind the wheel she was still dripping with sweat. The sports bra swaddling her small B-cup breasts was soaked along the sides and in the tiny little so-pointless-it-shouldn’t-even-exist cleavage while the drips from below ran down her concave tummy and saturated the waistband of the skin-tight yoga pants she had pulled on. Maybe I should’ve kept on my uniform, she grumped as she glared at a rather shabby-looking farmhouse off to the side of the highway. I could hike up my skirt at least! That was the worst part about the ride… the fact that the humid heat made her pussy felt sticky and hot, and it itched, and she wanted to scratch it so bad it was DRIVING HER FUCKING INSANE…
“Brooke, are you mad?” a tiny voice floated over her left shoulder.
The teenager looked over her shoulder and right into the face of her baby sister. Unlike Brooke, Bonnie Landon had hair the color of midnight, a gorgeous wave of black silk that flowed down her back almost to her waist. Well, normally it did… For some reason the pre-teen had pulled her hair back into a ponytail as well, which was now whipping around madly in the hurricane-force wind generated by the open windows. The seven-year-old had unbuckled her seatbelt and was perched on the edge of the back seat, her hands holding onto the headrests in a death grip to keep her in place within the moving vehicle as she leaned between the front seats and peered at her big sister with wide blue eyes. “Are you mad?”
Brooke felt an explosion welling up inside of her… but then let it peter out with a weary sigh. Bonnie was just too sweet, too adorable, and just too nice to yell at! “No, I’m not mad,” she grumped as she turned back forward. “I’m just sitting in a furnace that’s about a bajillion degrees, ‘n I’m sweating so bad my cunt itches.”
“Language!” Their mother shot her head to glare at her daughter, and then raised her attention to the rearview mirror. “And you… Seatbelt!”
“Oh-kay.” Bonnie sighed and sat back, the bare flesh on the back of her sweat-less thighs sliding easily across the white-hot black vinyl of the bench seat to fumble with the restraint. Brooke scowled even deeper as she slouched in her seat. So I get all the sweat glands, AND the body odor, AND the ugly hair and boring eyes, she whined to herself as she pouted. “So, Brooke, are you mad?”
“Yeah, I’m mad,” she finally admitted. “We came in second!”
“Second isn’t bad,” Debbie said evenly.
“Second is still losing.” Brooke sat up and turned in her seat, craning her head to peer into the back. Bonnie was strapped in and peering at her with wide eyes, the pink tee-shirt with black lettering advertising the National Cheerleading Championship popping against the darkened cab of the vehicle. “I’m mad because we didn’t win,” she elaborated.
“But you were awesome! You kicked butt!!!” The pre-teen’s conviction, surety, was total and absolute, and the fifteen-year-old had to smile at her little sister’s hero worship. “You did all those flips, ‘n those kicks, and that arm-thing,” she explained, flailing her forearms around in a vague – and totally inaccurate – imitation of the routine that Brooke had performed only a few hours ago.
“Thanks, kiddo. But it wasn’t enough. We still lost.” It wasn’t MY fault, the teenager told herself once again. The routine had been designed by Liz and Miranda, co-captains of the senior squad, and even though Brook had her doubts about it she still pulled her weight and performed like a good lieutenant should. She worked to integrate the talents of the junior squad with the seniors, drilled the girls over and over until they could perform in their sleep, and it had gone off without a hitch – but it still wasn’t enough to earn the top score. Junior squad, second place… Senior squad, second place… Combined, second place. Second, second, second – all losing scores in her mind.
“But you came in second,” Bonnie insisted.
“Second place is still losing,” the teenager repeated. “It’s not first. It’s not winning.”
She heard a faint click, and then Bonnie was back forward, pushing her face between the seats as she smiled at her sister. “But I’m gonna join in September,” the seven-year-old declared proudly, “so next year I’ll help you when I join! You can be the captain, ‘n I’ll be your lewtenanat, ‘n we’ll win!”
Brooke had to give a little laugh at the pre-teen’s understanding of the politics governing the Centurions. Yes, Liz and Miranda were turning eighteen and thus ‘graduating’ from active squad participation and yes, the fifteen-year-old would become squad captain (a promotion that coincided very nicely with her sixteenth birthday, by the way!), but her sister didn’t quite understand that she had already chosen her lieutenants. “Doesn’t quite work that way, kiddo,” she explained as she nudged the girl’s chin with her bare, sweaty shoulder. “There’s a whole lotta girls ahead of you, and you’d be on the junior squad besides.”
“Can I be junior captain?”
“Maybe. Like I said, there’s a whole bunch of girls ahead,” Brooke laughed as she nudged Bonnie’s chin again.
The little girl didn’t answer, but instead wiped her sister’s sweat from her face. “Ew!” she exclaimed as she made a face of disgust. “Why are you so sweaty?”
“’Cause mom likes riding around in a car as hot as the sun,” the teenager groused, her amusement vanishing in an instant as the itching sensation between her legs came roaring back to the forefront of her attention. “And unlike you, I sweat like a fucking pig when it’s hot,” she added.
“Language!” their mother screeched like a banshee, her hair flowing around her head like a halo and death in her eyes as she glared at the sweaty teen. “And seatbelt!”
No no no no no…
Ilise Gower slouched down in her seat, her blue eyes staring sightlessly through the window as the landscape passed by unseen. The motion caused her pink tee-shirt to ride up a bit and exposed a strip of tanned flesh on the eleven-year-old’s flat tummy, and the girl absentmindedly tugged her top down so that it covered the waist of her jeans. Idly she was aware that the act of stretching her shirt caused it to be a bit tighter around her ribs, something that made her tiny AAA-cup breast buds to really pop, but instead of being embarrassed as she usually was she barely noticed. She had something much more important on her mind.
“Hey,” her mother remarked, “you’re awfully quiet there. Upset that you guys only got second place?”
“Hmm?” Ilise turned her head, the movement causing the somewhat disheveled mop of sandy-blonde hair to become even more tangled at the back of her skull, and stared at her mother. “Uhm… yeah. I’m upset.” The girl turned back to the window. “I really thought that we’d win this year.”
“Well,” her mother said brightly as she patted her daughter’s knee, “second place isn’t too bad!”
“Right.” As her mother droned on about performances and scoring and how she had given her all, Ilise let herself wander back to the confused, terrified place in her mind. She was upset, that much was true – but at that very moment she had a problem far more complicated than a mere cheerleading tournament.
She had slipped up. And maybe ruined everything forever.
What the HELL was I thinking? She absently scratched an itch on her ribcage as she thought back to THE MISTAKE, the horrible, life-ruining error that she had made that very morning. She didn’t know what had come over her… It might have been a lack of sleep, it might have been her somewhat queasy stomach, it might have been any number of a billion little things. But in the moment it had just seemed right, the perfect time – she had just gotten up, and her best friend was parading around in only a pair of tiny, skin-tight panties, and she looked so beautiful, and Ilise had wanted to do it for so long…
Why the fuck did I kiss her?!? The kiss had been wonderful, perfect, everything that she could have dreamed it to be… and the object of her love had simply looked at her like she was a mutant. From the heights of joy she felt herself falling, a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach as her former-BFF just stared at her in shock. She hates me now, Ilise thought morosely as she slouched further in her seat. She hates me, and thinks I’m a sicko pervert. Why did I do that??? She had tried to take it all back, tried to pretend like it had never happened, and even though the pretty raven-haired girl had tried to talk to her after the competition it had been weird, the energy between them had been so weird, and she knew that she had ruined everything, so she ran, ran to the car and her mother and ran from those judgmental emerald eyes...
They had met when they were eight years old, total opposites who just seemed to click. The blue-eyed sandy-blonde girl and her black-haired, green-eyed friend liked the same things, had the same sense of humor, just fell into a friendship that was easy and required absolutely no work at all. They had shared everything with each other no matter how intimate – when Ilise first discovered how good it felt to touch herself down there, her friend had listened and smiled and told her that she was doing the same thing, and the secret brought them even closer. Music, movies, school, cheerleading… they agreed on everything. And everything was perfect for so long.
She wasn’t sure when her feelings started, but somewhere along the way Ilise began to think of her friend as more, as something else. When she would touch herself at night, untying the drawstring of her pajama bottoms to loosen the waist and slipping her hand down, working her fingers beneath the elastic of her panties and past her smooth, hairless mound, down to the tiny slit between her legs to seek out the stiff little lump peeking out of the top that was so sensitive and gently rubbing until she convulsed and sent a spray of sticky wetness into the cotton covering her crotch and all over her fingers – somehow, somewhere along the way, she started thinking of her. Thinking of how she looked while they were getting changed for gym class, thinking of how cute she was in her long sleeping tee with her hair in braids that Ilise had done for her during the sleepover, of how she blushed so prettily when she whispered about touching herself and how the sandy blonde wanted to feel her touch…
And now I ruined everything! Ilise stifled a sob and tried to will away the tears stinging the corners of her eyes as she realized that her friend would never be her friend again – all because she couldn’t control herself. When her friend had pulled back the blanket to wake her up she had been having The Dream, the beautiful fantasy where they were both swimming naked in a warm pool and the brunette would take her in her arms and they would kiss while they pressed their bodies together in the water, and the little girl would just melt and surrender herself to her friend completely and utterly and it just seemed right, so right, and the kiss was perfect, and then…
She hates me, I ruined it! I ruined everything!!! She hid her sniffles from her mother and managed to conceal her tears as she sobbed for her lost love while the trees and grass and houses rolled past the window.
Laurie Pritchard caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and glowered at her reflection. Fugly… she hissed at the girl glowering back at her, brown eyes meeting brown through a curtain of shaggy chestnut hair. So fugly, no wonder nobody likes you, she added as she rolled her hands under the flowing water.
Thankfully she was alone, so the eleven-year-old didn’t have to tune out other girls chattering around her. Normally she would have avoided the girl’s restroom on the second floor of Gittings Elementary as it was unofficially known around school as belonging to The Cool Kids, but when the bell rang for morning recess she had to pee so bad and didn’t know if she could make it to the girl’s room on the first floor, and so she ducked in and hoped that nobody would say anything. It was just a bit nicer in than she was used to, just a bit newer, but she didn’t actually care about that as she locked the stall door behind her, yanked down her jeans and panties in a single motion, and sat on the cold seat just as the first dribble leaked out from between her legs. It didn’t take long – she was a small girl after all, with a small bladder – and less than two minutes later she was redressed and out, washing her hands and hoping that she could escape before…
“Lorrrrr-eeeee Bitcher!” The brown-hair girl actually flinched as her name was mangled by a delicate soprano sneer, the syllables slamming into her like punches. “What are you doing in here, skank?”
Laurie shut off the water and turned, shaking some extra droplets from her fingers as she faced her tormentors. As usual, Belinda Copperwaithe stood in front of the other three between her and the door, the eleven-year-old’s face holding a smile that definitely did not reach her hard, glittering eyes as she glared at the brunette. Behind her were Ashley and Lana, twin blondes who acted as Belinda’s lieutenants and cattiness-support, both of whom shared their leader’s sneer of contempt as they glared at Laurie. And bringing up the rear – as always – was the hulking form of Helga Drouth, the twelve-year-old towering over the three in front. Crap… “I was just done, I’ll go now,” she quickly mumbled as she tugged a couple of paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and dried her hands.
“Oh reeeeeeaaaallllyyy?” Belinda was in full-form this morning, and not for the first time Laurie wondered why she was such a bitch – and why she had chosen to inflict her cruelty on the brunette. They had actually been friends, once … a lifetime ago, both Laurie and Belinda played together, way back in the first grade, running and jumping and laughing and swinging and being goofy little girls. But that was then, and this was now – Belinda ran the school, had two followers who were always quick with a cutting remark or a nasty idea, and made sure her proclamations were enforced by a slow-witted monster who had been held back a year. For three years the cruel blonde girl had made her life a living hell – and evidently it was time for yet another chapter of the long-running saga that was The Torments of Laurie Pritchard.
“Uh huh.” Laurie wadded up the paper towel and dropped it into the trash can, quickly gathered up her books and tried to sidle towards the door. “I’m going now, I just want to leave.”
“Who said you could go?” one of the twins sneered.
“Yeah! After you’ve skanked up the place!” added her mirror.
“Haw haw!” Helga brayed.
Belinda merely stood there, staring at Laurie with hard, glittering eyes. “Please,” the brunette whispered. “I just want to go…”
The blonde queen-bee sighed a world-weary sigh. “Y’know, I wish I could just let it go, Bitcher,” she replied, the tone in her voice indicating that she was anything except sorry. “But we told you that the second floor bathroom was for nice girls. Not for little sluts like you.”
“We don’t want your diseases in here,” Lana hissed.
“Not anything a dumpster-diving trailer-trash hooker like you’d bring in,” Ashley interjected.
“Slut!” Helga barked.
The door behind the girls opened and Laurie caught a glimpse of two tiny little redheaded girls, twins, both of whom paused while taking in the scene. She saw their eyes go wide as the monstrous Helga turned and growled like a rabid dog, and she desperately tried to plead for their help with her eyes. The pair glanced at her, glanced back at Helga, and then promptly let the door swing shut as they decided that survival was far more important than courage, and Laurie felt her heart fall as all hope was lost.
“You see?” Belinda said in a quietly ominous voice. “Nobody likes you, slut. Nobody.” The girl took a step forward and Laurie backed away, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. “Nobody likes you, except for those hobos you’re probably fucking. That’s the only way anyone would ever like you.” The brunette ran out of room to retreat as her back made contact with the tile wall, and she hugged her books to her chest as she tried to keep from crying. “You’re ugly,” Belinda said, her eyes narrowing into evil slits as she took a step. “You’re poor!” Another step. “You stink!” Another step, until the blonde was standing right in front of her, her face so close to Laurie’s that she could smell the mint of her toothpaste when the girl spoke, and now she did start to cry, tears of fear and terror welling up in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. “You are totally, completely useless. Nobody likes you. Nobody!”
“Stop it.” She was in Hell, this was HELL, she wanted to run and hide and they were laughing as her tears of misery flowed…
Belinda leaned forward until her mouth was close to her ear, so close that Laurie could feel the girl’s body heat against her cheek. “Why don’t you just kill yourself? Nobody would miss you.”
“Stop it…” The two words were a plea for mercy, a surrender to her superior, a useless capitulation, an admission that she would do anything to make the cruelties stop…
“You know,” Belinda said with a sneer as her eyes burned with fury, “maybe your dad wouldn’t have left if you had only killed yourself. You see,” she added as Laurie whimpered, “he wouldn’t even stick around to fuck your filthy cunt. That’s how worthless you are. So trashy that even the guy who knocked up your trailer-trash slut mom wouldn’t even stick around to molest you. So why don’t you just do everyone a favor and kill yourself?”
“Yeah!” Helga was laughing like a hyena, but Laurie could see that the twins were a bit unsure. Still, the blondes didn’t say a word, didn’t do a thing to stop their leader from her cruelties, but instead just stood there, watching, their faces neutral and blank and obviously letting her know that they wouldn’t do a damn thing to help her out. The ogre, on the other hand, wasn’t smart enough to actually think that deep. “Kill yourself!”
“Please…” she whisper-sobbed.
Belinda was silent, merely standing in front of, standing above the cowering girl, her hot breath washing against the side of Laurie’s head. The brunette just cried, her body shaking silently as tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the front of her tee shirt. Finally, she spoke… “Never forget, you worthless piece of garbage,” she hissed in a quiet voice. “Nobody will ever like you. Nobody. They might if you killed yourself, but while you’re alive…” She fell silent, feasting on the misery she had caused, and then finally took several steps back. “Get out of here, skank,” she ordered dismissively.
“Yeah!” Ashley agreed.
“Get out!” Lana added.
Laurie didn’t hesitate… Ducking her head so that she didn’t have to see their faces, she skittered past the quartet and hit the door running, racing out of the bathroom and into the crowded, boisterous hallways of the school. Her feet moved automatically as she ricocheted off of random people, her sight blinded by the tears filling her eyes, as she ran, ran to escape, ran to escape everything, ran down the stairs and ducked around a corner and through a door and across the loading dock and around the back of the school, back behind the dumpster that reeked of rotting trash, and she dropped to her knees heedless of the slimy sludge that soaked into her jeans and curled over until she was almost bent double and sobbed piteously. She sobbed from the pain, sobbed from the humiliation, sobbed from the fear that Belinda was right.
For the entirety of morning recess she sobbed the tears of a lost soul. Nobody…
The room was vast and dark, filled with hulking shapes. The air was still and silent, musty with just a hint of chemicals, a smell just a hint on this side of acrid. Nothing moved… Nothing was, except for a couple of small glowing red lights high up on the walls, silent sentries to what lay before them.
There was a loud CLACK! of a switch being thrown, and a dull buzz filled the room. Slowly, but with ever-increasing speed, rows of overhead fluorescent lights flickered into life, crackling and hissing as they grew brighter and brighter and chased the gloom away. The hulking shapes swam into focus, becoming large industrial machines, twice as high as a grown adult and painted a dark greet. The glowing lights up on the walls faded in the harsh glare, becoming status lights to the cameras keeping watch. But still the room was quiet.
There came another loud CLACK! and a dull whirring began to reverberate through the room. The machines began to slowly grumble to life, blinking lights on their control panels glowing red and green and white as the titans awoke from their slumber. Without a soul in sight they began to operate… One grabbed the end of a gargantuan roll of paper and fed it to another, which swallowed the sheet and added images, which were then slid to another with added the gloss, and then to another which lashed down violently with its blade to sever the sheet. The sheets were fed to another giant, which sorted them into piles, adding more and more and stacking them while it kept count of the pages sliding in from every direction, until it reached the number and shoved the stack at yet another engine. This one rammed home the staples, three metal prongs that were twisted into position, and then an arm came down and the stack was folded, and it spat out the finished product.
One by one they slid down the rollers, stacking neatly into organized piles. Dozens of magazines, hundreds, thousands… more kept coming, and more, and more. But there was nobody there – the massive press operated automatically, following their pre-programmed orders like good little soldiers. There wasn’t a single human being in the room overseeing the production.
That is, unless you discounted the girl on the cover. She was young – very young, barely feeling the blush of puberty, but at the same time giving off a fresh fertility that implied the sexual awakening of a girl who was determined to become a woman. Long crimson hair with a natural gentle wave gathered into a ponytail that flowed down her back like a wave, she sported a pair of mischievous green eyes that seemed innocent and wanton at the same time. She was nude from the waist-up, her back a smooth, featureless plane of golden tanned flesh that was narrower at the waist than at her toned shoulders, and there wasn’t a single indication of even an ounce of flab on her body. The girl had tucked the hem of her incredibly short red-and-gold skirt into the small of her back, and she almost seemed to wink at the viewer as she knelt on what appeared to be a mattress, fully aware of what she was doing. Her kneeling pose and flipped-up skirt did have the effect of exposing her firm, succulent backside, but the girl didn’t seem to care… In fact, she leaned away from the camera just a bit as she popped her ass out, reaching around one slim hip to pull one cheek to the side with her fingers. She smiled as she showed off her tiny puckered asshole and peach-fuzzed slit, presenting her most intimate parts for inspection and not seeming to care in the least who in particular was doing the actual inspecting. That did seem to be the plan, though – yellow letters floated off to the side, words that screamed “Sis boom bah! 12-y-o Ronnie gives us something to cheer about!”
Above the wanton image floated the title, large yellow words announcing the periodical’s subject matter to the world. Little Lovers, they screamed. And just below and to the right, in a smaller font, were discrete little words that read Volume Two, Number Three...
>>Chapter 1>>