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NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 14 Jan 2005 13:05:07 -0600
From: "Father Ignatius" <FatherIgnatius@ANTISPAMananzi.co.za>
Subject: {ASSM} "Chocolate-Covered Cheerleaders in the Skanky Boonies" {Father Ignatius} (Mf+ choc snuff? <*>)
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Date: Fri, 14 Jan 2005 18:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Rejected by Ruthie's Club:
* "We encourage authors who wish to submit stories in the more extreme
genres---in this case, self-snuff---to motivate their treatment with
strong elements of plot, resolution and character development.
Unfortunately, this story does not qualify under these criteria.
Ruthie's Club is also committed to maintaining a tastefully sexy image
in the erotic story community.  Under this criterion, the story also
fails."

Teaser:
* When a 'busload of sophisticatedly urban cheerleaders leaves the leafy
confines of Richmond on special assignment to the boonies, anything may
happen.  Up to, and including, self-inflicted painful death...

Instructions to Illustrator:
* The scene: a suburban sitting room.  A fuller-figured, bearded, older man is
standing facing a pyramid of topless, chocolate-covered cheerleaders.
The chocolate in some strategic areas has been licked off.  The top
cheerleader in the pyramid is bent over, because her back is brushing
the ceiling.  She is temptingly holding out an opened chocolate bar to
the man.  There is something in her demeanor of those shapely young
ladies who feed fish to sea lions in pools.  There is something in the
man's demeanor of a sea lion in a pool.

Dedication:
* This debacle is Entirely Gary's Fault: "On the other hand," he said,
"this might qualify as a 'But what a way to go' story.  Chocolate
covered cheerleaders..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chocolate-Covered Cheerleaders in the Skanky Boonies
(Mf+ choc snuff? <*>)
by Father Ignatius
(c)2005


"I still don't get why we're doing this," pouted sultry Sabrina (her
real name was Judith, but they wouldn't let her on the cheerleading
squad until she changed it, _obviously_).  "Like, we never had to leave
Richmond for fundraising before.  Let alone go out into the skanky
boonies."  She glared reprovingly out of the 'bus window at the passing
parade of boonies, each apparently more skanky than the last.

"I _told_ you," sighed Amber (formerly Ruth), their busty, and hence
popular, leader.  It's to raise funds for our accommodation during the
team's next tour."

Sabrina snorted.  "Yeah, right.  Like we're not going to be in the guys'
rooms, anyway.  It's a total waste of money."

"Yeswell.  We're doing this for our parents," said Amber diplomatically.

"Otherwise they won't let us go," pointed out a pragmatic voice from
further down the 'bus.  Amber nodded approvingly.  Quite so.

"And, this way," pointed out Amber, "_we_ get to select the hotel,
instead of the coach.  So we pick something nice that has massages and
beauty treatments and stuff, that we can do while the guys are getting
drunk and watching television in the bar."

"Yes, Sabrina," hissed Britni (formerly Margaret), "that's quite a
criterion.  If you'd been on tour before, you'd _know_ that.  Remember
the Motel Cockroach in Tappahannock?"  There was head-nodding from the
members of last year's squad.  The newbies watched, and learned.

"Anyway," revealed Amber, "we've got a contract with this dude's
doctor."

"What's his name?"

"The doctor?  Kavorkian.  Something like that."

"No, the guy."

"Jordan."

"_Michael_ Jordan?" came an immediate, interested chorus.

"Naw.  _Gary_ Jordan."

"_Gary_ Jordan?  Who's he?"

Amber, nettled, went on the offensive.  "Don't you know anything?  He
was bass guitarist for _Police_.  In the _original_ line-up."  The ploy
worked.  The others backed off.

"So," asked Fern (formerly Fern), after a silence.  "About this
contract.  What's this doctor's shtick?"

"He wants his patients to die happy."  Amber bottom-lined it.

"He does?   Remind me to use a different doctor."

 "My dad's a doctor," said Sabrina.  "He says doctors have this oath
thing.  It's a total pain in the butt, he says, for a working man trying
to earn a buck to support his family."

"That old stuff's _so_ out of date," jeered Amber.  "It's, like, so
twenty-six centuries ago.  In modern life, we want to be _happy_."  She
started humming _Don't Worry, Be Happy_ in a leadership kind of way.

"My dad's a lawyer," said Fern.  "He doesn't want me to follow in his
footsteps, though, because, he says, the law has a coarsening influence
on all who follow it.  It exposes you too much to human nature, he says.
And then, on top of all that, you have to come home at night and face
your family.  It's simply too much for flesh and blood to stand, he
says.  And every time there's a case from out-of-town, he says, it's
like in-breeders, and stuff."  She waved an accusatory hand at
peri-urban Virginia streaming past outside.  "It's like, he says, they
don't even know that there's a law to disrespect, until they get
arrested.  It's most satisfactory, he says.  It's the only thing that
keeps him going, he says."

"Well, that's why I'm not cool about this," sulked Sabrina warningly.
"In-breeders!  I don't think we're safe out here.  Tell the driver I'll
give him a blow-job if he remembers the way home."

"Well, if you're not related to them, surely you're safe from
in-breeders?" enquired The Voice of Reason from further down the 'bus.
But Sabrina was not to be mollified.

"Will you _really_ give the driver a blow-job?"  Bambi (formerly Sarah)
asked her, even more wide-eyed than usual.  She was always the slow one.
The other cheerleaders liked having her around, though, because she made
them feel smart.  And she was popular with the team, too-she often
forgot to bring along condoms, for example.  Indeed, she was destined to
remain popular right up to the point where she forgot to take her Pill
as well.

"Nah," said Sabrina.  "But I really will offer.  Just get me safe home
to Richmond, is all I ask."  There was a pause.  "Unless he's cute, of
course."  As one woman, they all turned to stare appraisingly at the
driver.  He chanced to glance into his rear-view mirror at that moment.
Catching the full force of the entire cheerleading squad's appraising
gaze, he nearly drove into a ditch.

"See?" said Sabrina, triumphantly.  "We're not safe, I tell you."

"Oh, live a little, why won't you?" came an exasperated plea from
someone.

"Before I die, you mean?" said Sabrina spiritedly.  She wasn't the sort
of girl who never, ever gave up, ever.  That's what made her unpopular
on the cheerleading squad but, in one of those paradoxes of Life, it was
also why the football team liked her so much.

Sabrina sensed her moment.  "That reminds me," she said, exercising
Leadership Through Critical Intervention, just like on this
Cheerleadership course she was on. "In the contract, there's this
special premium bonus if he dies on us."

"Ewwww!" they all chorused.  But thoughtfully.

"Provided that he dies _happy_," stipulated Sabrina.  "Happy is _key_."
As a group, they tended to be scornfully dismissive of this stipulation.
No one had ever died _unhappily_ on them yet.  "Which reminds me," said
Sabrina, "this one has a special condition.  We have to be covered in
chocolate.  There'll be tubs waiting."

"Ewwww!  My _hair!_" came the inevitable chorus.

"I found a new product for that," offered Britni.

They all swung excitedly on her.  A new product!?  "What!?  What?!"

Britni leaned forward confidentially, and announced, "Innoxa Foot-Balm,
with Witch Hazel!"

There was a reverent hush that was eventually broken by the driver when
he couldn't stand it any more.  "How does foot balm help get chocolate
out of your hair?" he asked.  There was a half-pitying, half-exasperated
silence during which---although he didn't know it---the driver's
prospects of a blow-job died an irretrievable death.

Eventually, Britni took pity on him.  "It's not for your _hair_, silly,"
she explained.  "It's something to keep you occupied in the bath while
all that other gunk soaks off, after your _Cosmo_ has gone all squishy
in the steam."  They all nodded, as if to say "Duh!"  Shees, did guys
know _nothing?_

"When you say, 'if he dies _on_ us,'" asked Fern, after a thoughtful
silence, "do you mean, like, actually, you know, I mean, basically, _on_
us?"

Sabrina blushed.  She'd hoped to avoid going there, but...  Womanfully,
she squared her shoulders.  Her breasts stood out magnificently.
"Actually," she said, trying to look them all square in the eye at the
same time, "the bottom line is that we have to leave him happy.  But,
since you bring it up, there's actually a double-special premium bonus
in the contract for that."

An uncharacteristically thoughtful uncharacteristic silence fell over
the 'bus.

"_Now_ what are they up to?" worried the driver to himself.

*****

"Shees," said Fern critically as they piled out of the 'bus, "Is that
him?  He looks old enough to be my dad."

"Doesn't look like any bass guitarist _I_ ever saw," muttered Sabrina,
but everybody had long since stopped listening to her.

"He looks old enough to be your _granddad_," said Vixen (formerly
Marjorie), bitterly.  But they ignored her.  She was like that before
her period.  Like, anything up to twenty-eight _days_ before, y'know?
But the football team was emphatic that they wanted her on the squad,
team player or no team player. She had "other assets," they said.  She
sure did.

"Where's the stadium?" asked Bambi.  "Where's the change rooms?"

"No stadium," said Amber.  "And no change rooms."  There was an
incredulous gasp, and immediate mutterings of mutiny.  Amber crushed
them mistressfully: "Some of us are going to change in Gary's bedroom,
and the rest are going to change at his daughter's house a couple of
blocks away."

"His _daughter's_ house?" enquired Fern.  "She must be pretty
understanding."

"She'd have to be," muttered someone.

"Yeah, she really seems to be," said Amber.  "Now move it."

"Wait... you mean that half of us are going to have to run back two
blocks topless, covered in chocolate?"

"Sure.  And, after, run back, slightly less covered in chocolate.  Now,
come on, it's not anything we haven't done before, you know.  Okay,
ladies," said Amber, clapping her hands briskly, "Let's get this show on
road."

*****

"Well," said Britni much later as the 'bus, piloted by a hopefully
tumescent driver, headed directly for Richmond by the shortest, surest,
quickest route, "that's one old fart who hasn't lost the will to live,
that's for sure."

"Yeah," said Sabrina, resentfully.  The loss of the special premium
bonus still rankled.  And the loss of the double special premium bonus
double-rankled.

"Old _fart?_" jeered Fern satirically.  "That's an old _goat_."  They
looked enquiringly at her.  "My dad had a case about that," she
explained.  They nodded, acceptingly.

"Gary and his daughter really need more hot water, though," said Vixen.
There were emphatic nods up and down the 'bus.

"Maybe they'll fix that when the plumber comes to steam-clean all that
chocolate out of the drains," contributed Amber.  "Still, we left him
happy, huh?  That what matters."  _And that's the bottom line the
contract_, she though privately.

"Sure did," confirmed Britni.  They all nodded.

"My Dad always says," confided Sabrina, "'Medical science be
damned---it's amazing how a little of what you fancy does you good.'"

The cheerleaders gave this serious consideration.  There was judicious
nodding.  That sounded okay.  It slipped neatly into the cheerleader
_Weltanschauung_.

"Yeah," said Fern, darkly.  "_My_ Dad says he's had quite a few court
cases about that in his time, too.  That's how he paid for my
orthodontist, he says.  And now, he says, it's gonna finance us a pool,
too."

"Hooray!" cried the whole squad.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edited by Alexis
Illustrated by Nat


FatherIgnatius@ananzi.co.za
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/FatherIgnatius/www/Stories.html

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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