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Message-ID: <55592asstr$1176297002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Wendy Cries" <sh.cries@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Ariel: After the Dance - by shecries (MMMf, voy, hum, exhib, lard butt, nc) 4/7
Lines: 889
Date: Wed, 11 Apr 2007 09:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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feedback, criticism, comments, and demands for gratuitous acts of
exhibitionism are always welcome at sh.cries@gmail.com (just not always
fullfilled)
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/she_cries/www/

Ariel:  After the Dance - part iv
(MMMf, voy, hum, exhib, fucked by a big old lard butt, nc)

by she cries


     "Shit man, three o'clock." Raul said checking his watch.
     Pierre reacted to that by straightening up, "You got the bags?"
     "Yeah man, two clean ones."
     I was kicking back, comfortable but no longer numb as the peak of the
high had worn off a while ago, but I was still buzzing a lot.  I was
dressed, though the Pierre had had to sacrifice his undershirt to get me
cleaned up enough to get dressed.  I contented myself with a new maxi-pad to
retain Raul's mess, but my lovers had drenched me.  By the time we bothered
to mop up it had become viscous and runny.  I swallowed my third Yoo-Hoo (to
get the taste out.  I had loved pleasing Pierre, but damnit if his spunk
didn't taste awful) and said, "Where are you going?"
     Raul stood up, "Got a meet our parole officer."
     Pierre followed his friend up, and crossed to me, offering his arms,
"Drug test today."
     "Parole?  What for?" I said, taking my man's arms and letting him lift
me to my feet.  I swayed for a moment, and let myself fall into Pierre's
strong arms, leaning on him.
     "We got six months parole for getting out early.  We were in juvie for
eighteen months."
     My new lovers were ex-cons.  Great.
     "So we'll see you around, right?" Raul asked.
     I didn't want them to go, "What are you doing after."
     "Got work, over at Taco Bell, on Hampton."
     "Oh," I said numbly.  I had been contemplating a nightcap.  Maybe even
a swim in Carl's pool, just to make the old fuck weep.
     "Well, after that?"
     "Easy girl." Pierre said, "You'd think you got hooked on the shit."
     "Fuck the weed, I want you to come over."  I gave him a little grin,
nuzzling my hips against his, "You know."  I didn't know if I could handle
Pierre's manhood, but if girls in porno's could learn to, I was willing to
try if it meant more days like this one.
     Pierre grinned, "We get off at ten."
     "We got business, man."  Raul warned his friend.
     I deliberately bit back a comment about being better business.  Both
boys seemed to take Raul's comment very seriously, and I wasn't really eager
to become a clingy chick.  It had just been a little sex after all, I told
myself, lying my ass off.  I was really eager to get Raul inside me again,
in spite of his rather homely face, and I was positively getting infatuated
with Pierre.
     I shrugged, acting it out, "Okay, I guess I'll see you in school then."
But inside I was seething.  I wouldn't have many opportunities to have
wanton sex all night long after my parents came back.
     "How about tomorrow night?"
     I grinned and gave them my address, inviting a couple of ex-cons over
to my house to fuck the shit out of me.
     The only concession they dragged from me was a promise to wear girl's
underwear, and I told them I'd be dressed to kill.

     I spent a few minutes in the Frederick's store before getting run out
for being underage, and ultimately resorted to Macy's where I found a much
younger clerk who had no qualms about helping me pick out a special outfit
for the boys which cost me every last cent of spending cash my parents had
given me for the weekend.
     The sheer black thong was essentially a G-string but for a teeny-tiny
little triangle of cloth on the back, and so low cut in the front that I had
resolved to trim my bush to a more respectable size, now that I had someone
to trim it for.  With that I got a pair of black stockings with little
garter clips and a matching string-backed teddy, just a simple lacy affair,
also with its own garters to hold up the stockings.  It was all very
see-through.
     Of the hundred and fifty dollars in my savings, plus the little my
parents had left me for the weekend I had about fifteen dollars left, and
since I hadn't eaten a bite since Friday (people wonder why I'm so thin) I
started cruising for a snack.  I was almost aghast that I had spent so much
money on underwear for a couple of guys who probably wouldn't have cared if
I dressed like Dobby the House Elf, but the memory of the satisfaction of
having given Pierre so much pleasure drove me to some pretty peculiar
heights.
     If you had told me a week ago that I'd be buying underwear to impress a
pair of black ex-cons I'd have laughed in your face, but then, I'd laughed
in Jerry's face when he'd said I was 'dying for it' and look who turned out
to be right.
     It didn't take long for the comments to start coming at me.  It was a
Sunday and there were a lot of high school students at the mall; a number of
them from my own school.  In spite of how I felt, like a total slut in a
tizzy, people generally reacted the same way they always had, mocking my
hair and my clothes, my size, making stupid comments about bands like Green
Day, for whatever reason, as if I had ever listened to them, and generally
reminding me why I don't usually go down to the mall.
     Fortunately, in spite of the acrid taste, Pierre was still on my lips
and Raul was squelching between my other lips (Okay, I could have done
without the Raul squelching thing.  I wasn't even attracted to the guy,
though I had to admit that he'd satisfied every inch of my lusting fifteen
year-old body).  The afterglow of both the riotous sex and Raul's weed
formed a solid wall around me, and it wasn't long before I was happily
munching on a pair of corn dogs and a big glass of lemonade in the food
court.
     The sensation faded only slightly when Mitch appeared.  I made a point
of taking a ferocious bite out of my corndog when he spotted me, and I was
delighted to discover that he made a quick exit in response.  Not that I
expected that to discourage him.  I had genuinely forgotten that Chris had
suggested I meet them here.  I wondered how they'd react when I told them
about Pierre and Raul.
     I was still giggling at that thought when Jerry and Ronnie swarmed into
view, pulling up chairs and thumping down in front of me.  Ronnie eyed the
corndogs greedily.
     "I guess two wieners wasn't enough for one day, eh?" Ronnie asked.  My
mouth fell open.  How did they know?
     "Come on," Jerry said, glaring at me, "You didn't think Mitch wouldn't
tell us."
     I swallowed my mouthful in a big, painful gulp.  "Tell you what?" I
asked grabbing the lemonade, but I wasn't sure if the lump in my throat was
from the corndog.
     "That you had him and Bones over for a little three-way."
     I stared at them for a long moment and started snickering crazily.
     The two boys looked uncomfortable.  "Don't try to deny it." Jerry
ordered me.
     I took another bite of the corndog, "How's your wiener, Jerry?"
     He snatched the little stub left on the stick from my hand, his face
red with rage and humiliation, "Don't even act like this is settled between
me and you." But his attempts to menace me were hampered by the fact that he
was waving the little stump of a corndog in my face.  He saw me giggling at
it and hurled the thing away.
     "You cheated.  You cheated and you owe us."
     I shook my head, "Owe you what?"  His anger was starting to creep
through my haze, and I was starting to get really uncomfortable.  I was
surprised I hadn't run screaming by then, but there's something to be said
for the calming powers of a few good tokes and some really satisfying sex.
     "All of us." Jerry said with an evil grin on his face.
     I looked at him blankly for a minute, then turned to Ronnie, "Hey stud,
what's the gimp talking about."
     Ronnie was looking at my chest, "You have to finish the bet."
     I let that sink in, contemplating how they could possibly be
rationalizing it, "You do realize that you're completely obsessed with me,
don't you?"
     Jerry slammed the table with his fist, "You're the one who was so
fucking hot and bothered for us!"
     I rolled my eyes at him, "What, Jerry, don't you have some cheerleader
to bang?"  I felt kind of bad for that, because I did like Muffy in spite of
her self-effacing tendencies towards solving problems in her life.
     Ronnie interrupted the argument.  "You never said you were on your
period, so the bet's still on."
     I contemplated them repeating their examination, and Raul's semen
pooling up in my labia.  "You know, you guys have got the worst timing." I
had to snicker while they looked at each other, thinking I was the crazy
one.  "Really guys, it's time to let this go.  You had your shot at me and
you blew it, just like Chris did this afternoon."
     "What I heard was that you were the one doing the blowing."
     "Maybe he was afraid I'd go Jerry on his tiny dick." I grinned at them
and started blowing bubbles in my lemonade.  God, this cross between growing
terror and banal silliness was as bizarre a feeling as I'd ever felt.
     "If you didn't want to," Ronnie said, knowingly, "Then why'd you do
Mitch and Bones?"
     "I tried to do one of them." I exaggerated the nickname, drawing it
out. "But he couldn't do it without his friend to hold his hand, so I threw
him out of bed."
     "You fucked them both," Jerry corrected me.
     "Oh, and it follows that I'm going to fuck you again, right?"
     "You owe us." Ronnie insisted.  "You took the bet."
     I slapped a hand on the table, "So should I just climb up here, or do
you want to waste time with the whole examination thing?"
     Jerry stood up, and stepping over he grappled my arm with a vice-like
grip, "Come on."
     "I'm not going anywhere with you."
     "You will if you don't want the whole school to know how you invited
Mitch and Bones over and sucked their dicks."
     I struggled to stay in the chair, but Ronnie got up and grabbed my
other arm.  "I didn't invite them over."  I was starting to panic.
     Ronnie tugged me up to my feet, "Come on, we got a car waiting for us."
     "Where are you t-taking me?" I stammered, my heart pounding
frantically.
     Jerry grinned, "Your place, slut."
     "You sure you're up to this Jerry." I murmured, trying to sound quip
but betraying my very real fear.
     Jerry shook his head, "Oh, I'm up to it, but I already had my turn.
You gotta do the rest of us first."  All seven of them?  He was going to
bring all seven of them over to my house?
     "Excuse me gentlemen."
     The three of us turned to see a portly, middle-aged Mexican security
guard standing next to a scrawny, twenty-something, pimple faced security
guard.
     Saved by the cavalry, I sighed as Ronnie and Jerry released me.  I
can't believe Chris and Mitch set me up.  But how could I not believe it.
They were dirtbags, just like the rest of them.
     "We were just-" Jerry said, stopping as the fat older guard held up a
hand,
     "We need to talk to the young lady for a minute."
     "Me?"
     "Yes dear, come with us."
     "I wasn't doing anything, it was them!"
     Both Ronnie and Jerry were fuming at losing their prize, but that
didn't make me feel any better for taking the blame.  They always single out
the weirdoes.
     "Nothing to do with this.  We work at Macy's.  You need to come with
us."
     "Shoplifting again, Ariel?" Ronnie said, forcing a grin at me, but I
could see he was upset.
     "I didn't steal anything."
     The scrawny geek of a guard, intimidated by the jocks had snuck around
back and retrieved my shopping bag.  He put a hand on my shoulder, "You need
to come with us, Miss."
     And Jerry and Ronnie stood there fuming despite my humiliation.  I
snatched up my lemonade (no way I was going to some mall security office
without my fucking lemonade) and let them escort me, hands on my arms as if
I could run away from them (as if I'd have tried).  One thing I knew was
that Jerry and Ronnie were getting out of hand.  I needed to call the
police.

     "Look, what's this about?  I didn't take anything."
     "We'll see about that, Missy." The older guard said.  He sported a
conservative mustache, but everything else about him was obese.  He had
large, flabby cheeks, an extra neck sticking out of his shirt, a thick tuft
of wiry black hair rising out of his collar, front and back.  His beltline
must have been long enough to strap in a small camel, and his ass seemed to
spread out like two parked cars.  His skin wasn't just swarthy, it looked
dirty, but I wasn't sure if that was just being Latino or because he was a
pig.
     He must spend a fortune washing his clothes.
     He also had an annoying habit of paying no attention to me but to keep
his fat, pudgy hand wrapped around my bicep so I wouldn't run.
     His partner just walked in tow, but as if in diametric opposite sides
of the coin, was as lacking in body mass as I, though he was a foot taller,
and couldn't seem to take his eyes off of me.
     The walk was long and humiliating.  Jerry and Ronnie also dogged our
footsteps as people stopped to stare at the little punk girl being dragged
through the mall.  I could see their expressions, satisfied, as if this was
to be expected of me, though I hadn't done a goddamn thing.

     "Don't be shy now, Thomas, just because she's a girl."
     I grimaced as the skinny guard, Thomas, patted me down a second time,
roving closer than the first to my chest and even daring to feel the inside
of my leg as I stood, legs apart, hands on a wall, humiliated while people
walked past the security checkpoint on their way to the bathrooms.  I'd seen
people getting this treatment in the past, and always felt kind of bad for
them, but figured they must have done something to get patted down.  Now I
had another reason to dislike the mall so much.
     "What's in your pocket?"
     I swallowed, "A camera."
     They let me pull it out.  I was too scared not to, but I made sure that
it was powered off.
     The fat man, Jesus (Hey-Zeus!) took it out of my hand, "You steal this,
Missy?"
     "No, it's mine." I insisted, terrified he might look at the pictures.
What in god's name had possessed me to keep the pictures of me and the boys
on the camera?  God, I hadn't even deleted the shots Carl had taken.
     But he just stuffed it in his shirt pocket.  "See what else she's got."
     But Thomas shook his head, "I can't find nothing."
     "Check her bra."
     I threw my arms over my chest. "You can't check my bra, you're not a
cop."
     Jesus mocked my by crossing his own arms across his expansive chest.
He had already been through my bag, and my lingerie was spread out on the
counter, taunting me with how trashy I had become in a short two days.
"Maybe we should call a cop."
     I bit my lip, afraid to say anything that would get me into more
trouble, but he just tapped his toe, waiting for me to respond, "You should
have a woman searching me." I said meekly.  I had had a civics class, after
all, and I had a vague modicum of my rights.
     Jesus took a long moment to stare down over the length of my body as if
he could see stolen goods through my clothes.  He glanced at the receipt
he'd been holding for my underwear purchase, as if he didn't believe it was
valid.
     "I'm not even wearing a bra." I said, trying to get some reaction out
of him.
     He had been standing next to a door marked "Security" and he suddenly
reached out and pushed it open, "We'll see if anyone's reported the camera.
Thomas." And he nodded at me.
     Thomas hooked a hand under my arm and pushed my through the door.
     To the left I saw a small room with a number of security monitors.  To
the right there was what appeared to be a locker room.  In the middle was a
simple room with no windows and a single, large couch that looked twenty
years old.  It was this ancient, tweed, orange thing.
     Jesus followed us in, and threw down my new underwear on a small table
against a wall.  He also set down a camera.  He gestured to Thomas who
walked into the room with all the monitors and picked up a phone.
     "Sit down."  I went to the couch and sat down, "I watched you shopping
little lady.  Lot of suspicious behavior."
     "I didn't take anything."
     He held up the thong I had just bought, his sweaty hands violating my
nice, new underwear, "What you wear these for."
     "None of your business."
     "You steal this bag."
     "You've got the receipt."
     He shrugged, "Paid in cash.  No ID.  How I know you didn't steal the
bag and the receipt."
     "How am I supposed to prove that?" I said exasperated.
     He contemplated the thong again, "Looks to big for you.  Why'd you buy
underwear that don't fit?"
     "Of course it fits!" I insisted.  I had tried them on in the dressing
room and they were, if anything, a little tight.
     Jesus picked up the bundle of lingerie, a mass barely enough to fill
his two hands.  He carried them over to me and dumped them in my lap.  "Put
them on, you show me they fit, I let you go."
     "I'm not putting these on for you!" I stood up indignant.
     "This your underwear?" He said pointing at the clothes on the floor.
     "Of course it's mine."
     "Then why you ashamed to try them on.  You spent a lot of time in the
dressing room, little girl."
     "I'm not ashamed."
     "Then why you scared to try them on."
     "Because you're a fat perverted pig, I'm not walking around in my
underwear for you!"
     He got really angry at that, but didn't say anything.  Okay, it might
not have been the most prudent thing for me to say, but I was really getting
fed up with the way some men expected me to roll over for them.
     Thomas came out of the office, "They said no, but to check if there's
any pictures of the store.  It might be a display model."
     White fire seemed to flare up in my stomach.  A moment ago an
absolutely worst case scenario would have involved having to strut around
for Jesus in my underwear.  It had quickly escalated to having my most
degrading actions revealed to two disgusting, complete strangers who seemed
Hell bent on finding some way to incriminate me.
     "No!" I lunged forward, but Jesus grabbed me readily as Thomas picked
up the camera, ready to retreat with it.
     Jesus had me firmly, "What's the matter girl, you got something to
hide?"
     "That's my camera, let me go!" I cried, but Jesus just gestured at his
subordinate who to my horror started pressing buttons on the back of the
camera.
     "That's personal!  You have no right..." but I couldn't go on as I
watched Thomas' face whiten with each successive button push.
     "What is it?" Jesus asked.  Thomas looked up but just moved his mouth a
bit before looking back at the camera and looking at the next picture.
     I felt like my head was going to explode from all the blood rushing to
it.  I wanted to scream.  I gave my dignity for Pierre, so I could make him
and Raul happy, not so these two lowlifes could leer at my depraved
behavior.
     "Show me." Jesus insisted.  Without further hesitation, Thomas exposed
me, naked to my knees, bent over Pierre's impressive girth, looking at the
camera.  There was even the hint of a smile on my face.
     Jesus was watching me intently now, and he let go of me, no doubt
convinced by my shock that I would no longer fight him.  He was right.  I
stood there trembling, mortified.  I promptly plonked my ass down on the
couch when he told me to with a little wave.
     He took the camera from Thomas, "Show me how to use this thing."
     Thomas, as dumbfounded as I was in shock promptly pointed out the
relevant features, "These little buttons go back and forth with the pictures
you've taken, and when you see a blank screen, like this one here, it's,
uhh...  Well, if you take a picture you want it to be blank so you don't copy
over another."
     Jesus pointed the camera at me, "I press this button to take another
picture?"
     "I think so."
     I sat there and waited, "Nothing happened." Jesus said, then, "Girl,
how does it work."
     I glared at him. "You have to hold it down for a second, then let go,"
and I looked away as Jesus exclaimed his delight as he was able to frame the
picture of me on the digital screen before snapping a picture of me, alone
and miserable, trapped in an office with two creepy guys who were looking at
nudie pics of me.
     "Well, Missy." Jesus said, handing the camera to Thomas, "This
complicates matters."
     "Why?" I said, "It's none of your goddamn business who I fuck."
     The fat man's belly jiggled as he laughed aloud, the swelling gut
bouncing where it sagged over his belt, "Ho ho ho, little girl, don't you
think I know my own loading dock.  Thomas, take a look at the video on the
docks at..."  I stared in horror, the fire in my gut turning to ice, it was
like having to pee so bad it was backing out the in-way, and the nausea
proceeded to flood me with terror of spontaneously disgorging my corndogs
all over the room.
     Each picture had a date and time stamp on the readout screen, something
Jesus had been astute enough to observe, "Two-seventeen."
     He forced me to sit and watch as they played out the entire escapade,
though the time-lapse digital photography was poor, and only showed choppy,
clipped portions of my debauchery, it was clearly visible what I had done
with my two lovers on the dock.  Sitting next to me, manning the controls
was Thomas, who was visibly shaken, and extremely edgy around me.  I found
myself making the boy jump just by glancing up while he ran his shocked, yet
lecherous gaze over me. I cowered in the chair Jesus had sat me in, ordering
me to watch myself take two black men.  Finally, after the second viewing
(the time lapse had compressed the whole sexual encounter to just about
three or four minutes) Jesus stepped up to me, standing so close that I had
to hunker back in my chair to keep from being squashed by his rotund belly.
He held up a finger.
     "Public nudity, lewd behavior in public, smoking marijuana,
trespassing, and possible shoplifting." He finished ticking off his final
digit.
     "I didn't steal anything."
     "You will have to demonstrate that, little girl."
     Jesus' short, choppy speech was really starting to grate, his demands
coming out in what could have been broken English had he an accent.  I
crossed my arms.  I'd be damned if I was going to parade around in the
underwear I'd bought for Jerry just to prove I was innocent of something as
stupid as shoplifting when I was already screwed for what I'd done on
video.  I mean Pierre.  I meant to write Pierre just then...
     "We will have to involve the police if you do not cooperate.  Your
parents will not be proud to discover how their little girl behaves with her
friends."
     "Your parents wouldn't be happy to find out you're a lecherous fat
pig!" I spat at him.  Fuck him.  I was screwed.  I wasn't going to give him
the satisfaction of seeing me live as well as on tape.
     Jesus tapped his foot, glaring at me.  He was really not happy with me
and I actually caught myself debating whether to do what he wanted.  Maybe
he'd let me go if he got his jollies off.
     But then I shook my head.  I'd be up on my back before I could say
'stinking fat wetback.'  I'd been down that road too many times in the past
two days.  Defeatism settled over me.  I'd played fast and loose and finally
gotten busted.  At least if I was in jail I'd be safe from Jerry and his
gang.
     "There is also the matter of age." Jesus had the camera out and was
flipping through the pictures.  "These boys are clearly adults."
     I shook my head, "No!  They go to school with me."
     He wagged a finger at me, "Do not try to protect your friends.  They
have clearly taken advantage of you and must be punished.  You will give me
their names."
     I shook my head, "No, it wasn't like that."
     "No, a girl your age is not capable of this kind of behavior.  Not on
her own."  Jesus looked down at me, his face calm again, but calculating.
His eyes never wavered from my terrified glare.  Even if Pierre and Raul
weren't adults, which I was sure they weren't, they were still on video
smoking pot and having sex in public.  They were still on parole.  They'd be
thrown back in jail in a minute.  It would be my fault.
     "No, they didn't do anything.  It was my fault.  It was all my stuff."
I couldn't believe I was laying myself on the line for a couple of thugs I
hardly knew, but if they went to jail it would be my fault.
     "How old is she?" Jesus asked Thomas.
     Thomas consulted his computer.  He had been typing in information about
me and at one point scanned my ID card..  They had a dossier on me, picture,
vital stats, and now he was typing in my transgressions.  "She's fifteen
Jesus."
     Jesus looked at the screen, then back at me, "You should not be so
quick to defend those boys.  Give me their names."
     "No."
     "Then you will give them to the police." And he picked up a phone and
started punching numbers.
     Shit.  They had a picture of Pierre on my camera, even if they couldn't
identify Raul from the video it would be easy to pick them both up out of a
mug book.  Jesus was going to call the police and my parents would find out
that I'd had sex with two black guys, smoked pot, spent all my money on
lingerie.  What had happened to me?
     "Please," I begged, trying to buy time for me to figure something out.
"It wasn't their fault.  I...  We..."  I was starting to cry, and though Thomas
was clearly affected, Jesus merely put the phone down and watched tears
dribble down my cheeks.
     Thomas said, "Maybe I should call Jane Randall, she's the one who
searches-" Jesus waved a hand cutting the boy off.
     "This is not her problem." He hadn't looked away from me, "If you will
cooperate, I will consider what you have to say."
     I had a pretty good idea what cooperation meant, and that didn't do
anything for the nausea that had been building up in me as I regarded this
oaf blubbering in front of me like a beached whale perched up on its tail
with a crayon mustache drawn on.
     But I nodded.  If there was any chance of getting out of this with my
own record in tact while protecting Raul and Pierre, I had to take it.  I
was only about fifty percent sure that I was being blackmailed, but it
really didn't make any difference at that point.  No one would take my word
over a middle-aged security guard.  I was fifteen and a freaky punk.
     "What do I have to do?"
     Jesus smiled, "First we will settle the shoplifting question."
     That meant modeling my lingerie for him.  I nodded.  It wasn't like he
hadn't already seen me do much worse.

     I didn't understand why he had me take a shower first, but he had
Thomas take me into the locker room, watch me disrobe (the boy didn't even
try to hide the boner that was sticking straight out of his pants), and the
boy actually videoed the whole process, like he was gathering evidence.
Once we were alone (Jesus was in the other room "Examining the camera
evidence") Thomas started to make creepy comments, telling me how beautiful
I was, and how he always had wished he could date an "Alternative girl."  I
found myself less than flattered as I was forced to submit to his lechery,
not to mention his camera while I soaped down, scrubbing the remnants of my
black lovers' semen from my body (which had started to itch, but the relief
didn't make me feel any easier).
     The shower had, however, calmed down my instinct to puke, and by the
time I stepped into my panties--Pierre's panties, I thought with a flash of
resentment--I was much calmer.  Resolved to get it over with.
     Jesus was tacky enough to have me pose for a picture with my own camera
with Thomas, insisting that I give him a smile, and like I was on Roman
Holiday, I found myself under Thomas' arm, waving at the camera.  I knew
just what to do with that picture.
     Jesus handed the camera to his skinny partner in lechery and told him,
"Call Renaldo and Pedro, have them cycle the shifts in half an hour."
     "What?  Now, we just-" But Jesus interrupted him again,
     "Make it fifteen minutes."
     The skinny boy just stared at me for a minute.  Was that pity?  What
the hell was going on?
     But Thomas scampered into the office, and Jesus made a circle around
me, examining the "fit" of my outfit.
     The top was a very classy affair, with bold, but delicate lace patters
of acanthus leaves arching up and around my breasts.  It was a good fit, as
I'd claimed, but only nuzzled against my breasts, in no way restricting
their natural predilection to jiggle, as it would have for an older woman
who had started to sag.  The back was held together with a criss cross of
soft laces, tied in a bow at my neck, so I could easily undo it and slip it
off.  It was held taut where it joined at a point very low in the back, and
where the garters clipped to my stockings.  The thong did little, if
anything to offer any modesty, merely serving to outline and enhance my sex,
but my pubic bush was much too large for it still, and it stuck out well
over half its mass, although my bush was not particularly large.  The thong
was merely cut well below the normal level, so as to accommodate the new
trend in low-cut jeans, the salesgirl had opined with a wink.
     I held my tongue as the odious oaf made lazy circles around me before
stopping behind me as if he had to examine my ass with extra special care
(as if I had much of an ass to examine).
     "I am satisfied." Jesus proclaimed.
     That was it?  I thought.  I turned around, ready to throw my arms
around him in relief.  No quip remarks or pithy attempts at seduction?  No
invasive examination?  Just a look and I was done?
     But before I had a chance to take a step back from the massive bulging
tumor he called a stomach he put my fears to rest, which is to say, he gave
them a good solid foundation on which to rest,
     "Now we must discuss the matter of the boys who raped you."
     I shook my head, wishing he had let me get dressed before bringing this
up, "They didn't rape me."
     "You still claim you led them on.  You were responsible for their
actions?"
     Not really, but if it kept him from giving the picture to the police
I'd agree, and I nodded my head, afraid to look him in the eye, not that he
was looking at mine.
     "You are trying to tell me that at fifteen, a girl like you is capable
of seducing two men who are smoking pot?"
     Hadn't I already just said so, "Yeah, sure."
     He reacted to the surly tone in my voice by tilting my head up to meet
his stare with a rough hand, "You will demonstrate this too."
     Naturally.
     I knew when I agreed to get into my underwear that I wasn't getting out
of this with my dignity in tact.
     Not that I was claiming to have had any left, but it's a very different
matter submitting yourself to two healthy young men, ex-cons though they
were, or even a shiftless bastard of a jock named Chris who couldn't' keep
from lying his ass off to his friends and setting me up for a gangbang.
Hell, doing Doug on my front lawn wouldn't have been as degrading as
spreading my legs for this great oaf of a man who seemed easily to be the
sum total mass of all the boys I had been with in the past forty-eight hours
combined.
     Were Pierre and Raul really worth it?  I mean, they had just been using
me for their own pleasures.  After all, it wasn't like it probably made much
difference had I been any other girl to them.
     But sending them to jail because I was stupid cunt who walked around
with incriminating evidence in my pocket in a place where I was virtually
guaranteed to get harassed just for looking funny?
     Besides, I was in some pretty serious trouble too.
     I forced myself to keep looking up at my newest boyfriend when he
removed his hand, "And if I can demonstrate this I can go?"
     He nodded down at me, his big, saggy jowl squelching with the effort.
     "What about the other charges, trespassing, and..." I swallowed, "Lewd
behavior.  Thos ones?"
     "We can discuss that after."
     I shook my head, wondering what it would be like to have a gigantic
tumor under my chin to squelch around like that, "I want to..." Jesus frowned
at me, "I-I'd like to discuss it first."
     "We will issue a warning, and you will have to do some community
service, but we need not call the police."
     Community service?  I thought the city handled that.  Still, it was
better from being brought up on charges, "Or my parents?"
     "I will not call your parents if you cooperate."
     I nodded, "Okay, I'm your girl."
     He shook his head, "You must demonstrate how you seduced the boys."
     I didn't have the faintest idea how to start.  I mean, I supposed I
could just go down on him, but I couldn't even figure out where to start
there was so much belly and belt.  I might smother myself before I ever
found his cock.
     But Jesus wasn't going to wait for me to figure it out.
     In my time I had seen a few porkers at the beach, and it made me
somewhat glad that Jesus was Latino because he didn't have that pale, pasty,
varicose-laden glow that made fat people look like they were irradiated or
something.  But watching the man strip off his shirt, unbuckle his belt, and
push his underwear off introduced me to a whole new meaning of the words
'tuck and fold.'  It was like everything on his body was tucked underneath a
higher fold of fat.  His chin over his neck bulge, his bulge over his
shoulders, his shoulders actually sagged a little over his pecs, which
should have been strapped in a bra like Meatloaf was in Fight Club.  Those
dangled over a gigantic round fat, blubbery belly, and that in turn led to
three more rolls of fat, which completely hid his dick!  Before you ever saw
a dick his giant chunky thighs swarmed into view, as did his four asses.
     I wouldn't have to worry about the football players tormenting my
dreams any more.  I was about to get scarred for life.
     I found myself rubbing my jaw, still achy from the two blowjobs I had
given that day, wondering if I could handle a third.  Hopefully this guy
hadn't had any in such a long time I'd be able to get him off like
lightning, and he wouldn't need a demonstration of how I'd 'seduced' Raul,
which I knew would be a killer.  Most of the high was gone and I was feeling
really sore.  I wasn't eager to find out how much my body could take.
     I'd simply have to do it with my mouth.  I didn't really take him
seriously, that he was rating my skill in seduction or anything, but it was
a part of the ruse, and if I was going to go along with it I knew I had
better do my best.
     Through the window into the office I saw Thomas watching his screen.
He had my camera and appeared to be downloading my degeneracy to his
computer.  Shots of me flashed past the screen.  But it was me he was really
paying attention to, only having turned away as I looked in his direction.
     God, I was disgusted with this whole affair.  I'd have killed for a hit
of weed, or even a few mini bottles of that coconut rum I'd had on Friday.
Anything to make this easier, but Jesus laid back on the couch and indicated
for me to come over.
     I literally had to shove my hand between rolls of fat to get a grip
around his dick, which was easier to see when he lay down, and the fat was a
lot more pliable that it looked.  He smelled a lot like baby powder, which
was a relief as I found my hands sinking into his pudgy flesh.  I felt like
I was Jean Grey about to take on the Blob.
     I started slowly stroking the organ.  It was pretty thick, thicker than
Raul's at any rate, but was surprisingly stubby and I found myself choking
back a gag as I had to lift-ugh!-a slab of fat up over his cock to give my
hand free motion between those massive thighs.  I couldn't imagine how he
fucked someone, but he cut off that line of thinking,
     "Get on the couch, you need to take the time to enjoy yourself." He
ordered me; "There's no reason this should be unpleasant for you."
     As if I could possibly find pleasure in doing such an obesity.  As if
there was any room for me to get on the couch.  He literally covered the
whole thing, which sagged heavily in the center under his weight, yet his
stomach still rose up over the top of him like Mount Everest.
     I found myself climbing his peak, my skinny limbs finding many
handholds and soft purchases.  In spite of the disgusting situation he was
actually quite soft, if a bit scratchy for all the hair on his chest.  It
was a bit like one of those super-firm waterbeds, though I was teetering at
the top of him.
     "Come here," He tugged at me, sliding me forward so I was leaning down
with my ass in the air, our faces nearly touching, "Show me how you love a
man, little girl."
     I forced back a shudder as I opened my mouth and lay it on his scratchy
fat lips, slurping his saliva while his wobbly neck bobbled against my
chin.  Jesus ran his hands over my body, barely touching the sheer fabric,
his chubby, rough fingers prowling along the length of my legs, cradling my
ass, pulling it apart and stroking his fingers along the silky fabric that
ran down the cleft.
     He really wanted me to enjoy this.
     But try as I might I couldn't deal with the fact that my boobs were
smashed against tits twice, no, three times my own.  I couldn't ignore the
fact that kissing him required being bent at the waist, my knees barely
reaching his crotch, my own crotch riding his belly button, nor could I hide
the wince when he tried stoking my labia, though how he managed to reach up
that high I don't know.  He must have been sucking in his gut.
     He stopped kissing me at that and said, "You a little sore?"
     I nodded, glad for the reprieve from having to scrape my face along his
sandpaper skin.
     "A girl who could seduce two niggers shouldn't have any problem with a
little man like me."
     Little.  That was a laugh, but I didn't, "I can do it." I said and
tried to kiss him again, but he stopped me,
     "In the cupboard.  There." He pointed to a cabinet in the wall, "There
is a pain reliever."
     Curious yet apprehensive I slid off the blob of a man.

     In the back, behind a bible, in a zippered shaving kit, in the battery
slot of an electric razor, was a little bottle of white power.  I wasn't
stupid.  I knew coke from all the movies I'd seen, but I willingly went
along, reasoning that anything that got me through this would be a good
thing.
     I stood still, my panties down to my knees, as he wet his fingers and
applied it to me, rubbing a copious amount into my labia and doing his best
to insert some into my dry vagina, and I had to bite back a wince from his
probing, stubby fingers.
     Then he demonstrated the more normal "application," and forced me to
pinch my nose while I did the same.
     I never thought rolling around on a fat man could be so much fun.
     No, it wasn't any less revolting, and the details that had made me want
to cringe before were all the more vivid as a very real high-a sort of
elation came over me.  But as the coke hit me I found myself much more able
to enjoy the physical contact, the soft, pliable flesh, and generally, I
didn't care nearly as much.  What had been a grudging, willing reluctance
had turned into a 'whatever' attitude, and my sex was positively singing
with new life.
     To my surprise my body had reacted to the white powder, absorbing it
and growing wet to facilitate the strange combination of numbness and deep
tingling pleasure, and our foreplay seemed to last a long time while I felt
myself, if not genuinely aroused, more than ready to take the next step as I
slid backwards across the vast, portly belly.
     When I found his cock again it was because I slid right on top of it.
It was like the rest of him, stubby, chubby, and weird as it thumped against
my ass.  It stuck up through the rolls of flesh just enough for me to
position myself atop it.  Nevertheless, I pulled the thong to one side and,
as I'd been unwilling to do with the beautiful but backstabbing Mitch, I let
myself slide Jesus' stubby head inside me, biting back a yelp as my aching
vagina protested the abuse in spite of the drug-induced high that had gotten
me aroused.
     Nevertheless, the familiar tingle of pleasure reminded me as I lay
forward on the quivering mass of folding tummy flesh, that there was
something there, something that felt good, and it wasn't too hard for me to
start searching for it, pumping myself on the fat man despite the pain as
real pleasure flooded into my groin, clutching rolls of fat for purchase to
lift myself higher and push myself deeper, where the pleasure was slowly
building.
     "Sit up." Jesus moaned, obviously lost in rapture, my tight teenage
vagina undoubtedly squeezing his pudgy member to the edges of ejaculation,
but I wanted him to hold on longer, at least to let me find my own high,
though I didn't think I had a chance of actually cumming, lacking the
intensity of my past experiences.
     But Jesus took the initiative away from me and thrust me higher, where,
to my surprise and discomfort I sunk down another few inches, striking
something deep inside me with an intensity that made me yelp, squealing like
a cartoon girl, and that set Jesus off, bucking under me, making me bounce
harder and harder while pain flooded my bowels and arcs of intense, wild
excitement exploded in my belly.  The room lit up with a flash, but I
couldn't bother to look over as I joined Jesus in his frantic grunting,
bouncing me around on his dick as he exploded inside me with yet another
batch of fresh, steaming semen.

     Better than in my mouth, I thought as he shuddered to a halt, stripping
me of the grinding that made being impaled bearable.
     "Who the fuck is that?" I asked as the fog of sex cleared my head,
though the fog of coke made my reaction to seeing another security guard in
the room an almost casual inquiry.
     "That's Pedro, he's here to relieve me."
     Pedro was another swarthy Latino, but short and surly with weird pursed
lips and a vicious aggressive look in his eyes.
     "Get off." Without even waiting for me to respond the fat man picked me
up and positively pushed me off his flopping penis, and I slid over his
sweaty, blubbery mass into a heap on the ground while Thomas moved to a new
position with my camera and I tried to curl up and hide from the new
stranger's presence.
     I felt Jesus' hand under my chin again, that condescending gesture I
was learning to hate. "A little girl who could seduce two big black men
should have no problem with two Latinos."
     Perhaps this was what he'd meant by community work.
     Jesus sat up, his vast girth threatening to crush his member under its
weight, but he spread his legs and leaned back far.  His pudgy penis bobbled
up out of the rolls of fat.  "Show me how you pleasured your black boyfriend
in the picture."
     I looked up at Pedro, who was looking surprised to see this skinny
little white girl going at it with his obese, ugly supervisor.  I realized
that I was no more home free for finishing off Jesus than because of Pedro's
arrival.  I got up to my knees, trying not to glance uneasily at the two
other men in the room.  I looked up at Jesus.
     He smiled at me, patting me on the head, his good little girl.  Try as
I might I couldn't smile back.
     "Pedro is here to help us with the demonstration.  I know you will
cooperate to your fullest."
     My fears had been confirmed, "Please." I was shaking my head, "I let
you.  I mean...  I showed you..."
     He nodded, still condescending towards me, as his gelatinous mass
rippled down at me, making his shrinking penis flop over. "You said you
seduced two men.  The only way I can evaluate that is by seeing how you
handle Pedro."
     I nodded.  Fucking Pedro couldn't be any worse than Jesus, though I
didn't know how my body would handle it.  I started to stand up, but Jesus
put a firm hand on my shoulder,
     "You concentrate on me.  Let Pedro concentrate on you."
     I looked back at Pedro, leering with a big, toothy grin with lots of
gum showing as he unbuckled his pants.
     "Not both at once" I pleaded to Jesus.  "Raul, he did me afterwards."
     He ran that damn finger down my jaw line, "Just relax and enjoy it.  If
you can do two men together there's no way I'll be able to argue that you
were raped."
     I bit back a retort aimed at ending the stupid charade.  It was better
to just shut up and do what I was told.
     "Perhaps you should offer Pedro some of your medicine."
     Pedro grinned at the proffered bottle but shok his head.  Jesus allowed
me to apply a little more to myself, this time I actually pushed it inside
me, rubbing it around my opening where the pain was most acute.  Pedro knelt
down behind me, "Don't worry baby, I'll be real gentle."  He was carressing
my arm like a lover.
     "Make sure you get a good shot of this." Jesus ordered Thomas, "For,
uh... Records."  I was wondering when Thomas would get his turn.  So far he
seemed to have been stuck facilitating my molestation, but done nothing
whatsoever for himself.
     "Come on, missy." Jesus instructed me, guiding my head to envelop his
flaccid member with my mouth as Pedro slid his hand over my upturned
backside, spreading my lips and rubbing me, entering me with his fingers
making me want to gasp, but I could only gurgle as I slurped my own, pungent
juices off of Jesus' dick, cum rich and meaty as it dribbled out of his
pee-hole.  I found myself slurping it up when my face was jammed into his
flabs of gut as Pedro entered me, forcing me to cry out with my mouth full,
and the session began in earnest.
     My camera flashed and I found myself being bucked back and forth by
Pedro's aggressive thrusting, pushing away from Jesus in between thrusts was
the only way I could keep breathing as I was instantly to be smothered again
on hairy rolls of fat as Pedro pounded into me.
     It was as bad as I'd imagined, and much, much more satisfying than I
could have hoped for.  The violence of being rocked back and forth had an
instant toll on my body, already sore and abused from too much sex, but the
cocaine smeared across my insides turned the sharp stabbing pain in my
vagina into a throbbing wave of deep contentment, like having satin pillows
pressed up between your legs and compounded infinitely with each new
thrust.  Plus, Pedro was much thinner than Jesus, and his work didn't cause
so much pain.  Were it not for the violent back and forth, and the stuffing
of Jesus' growing erection in my mouth that I didn't dare dislodge for fear
of upsetting him, I may have found myself as enraptured as I had with Raul.
As it was I couldn't turn my focus to my backside as it took all my effort
to keep Jesus in my mouth.
     Time seemed to drag on forever.  I could hear the guys talking, joking,
laughing as they pummeled me from both sides, but between the coke and the
fucking I was just a blur, just a double headed vessel for men to fuck, and
the pounding seemed to go on forever and ever.
     My first break came when I felt Pedro cumming.  He had seized up and
grabbed my hips, and it was only Jesus' curt order not to stop that kept me
working on him, my mouth numb from being spread so wide for so long.
     I expected a reprieve when Pedro pulled out, and was disappointed to
find that his absence robbed me of the only thing that made sex tolerable,
however he seemed to be eager to get started again as he slid inside me,
harder and faster than before, and as Thomas took another snap I found
myself once again being bucketed back and forth of two Mexican cocks.
     After an interminable period, it seemed, Jesus finally started moaning
and groaning.  How he had held out for so long with my head driving back and
forth over his cock I couldn't imagine, but he finally began to shudder and
moan, clutching my head tight as he came and came hard, his thick meaty jizz
flooding into my mouth as I tried my hardest not to gag and finally slurp it
off him as he released me and I tried to decide where to spit it out.
     But Pedro was still driving into me, though unlike sex with Raul this
experience seemed to sustain itself indefinitely in a state of controlled,
almost casual pleasure, making sex pleasant, but by no means providing the
same kind of satisfaction as I braced myself against the couch, Jesus having
lost interest and gotten up after his second orgasm.
     I felt Pedro clutch me, his pace frantic and faster as I realized he
was about to cum.  He lifted me up, and I was being bucked upwards, grunting
and groaning as his cock slammed hard inside me, forcing out little yelps as
he knocked the wind out with each bouncing thrust.  Jesus' cum ran out of my
mouth in runny globs and dribbled down my neck and I panted, frantic and
desperate for Pedro to finish, which he did with a great, deep booming
groan.  That was when I realized I wasn't fucking Pedro, but another man I'd
never seen.
     Renaldo was a slender, but lithe young black man with a face that
seemed to slope back with the wind into fuzzy cornrows.  He had arrived
shortly after Pedro had gotten started on me and replaced his co-worker when
Pedro had finished.
     There's not a lot worse than doing a little coke and realizing that you
had just done three guys who you'd never have touched when sane and sober,
but realizing that Thomas had been videotaping the whole ordeal was pretty
close.
     I tried to cover myself, huddled on the floor, but my clothes were all
in the locker room, and the only thing I could do aside from curling up into
a ball was to replace the sheer crotch of the thong over my sorely abused
sex.  It seemed kind of an absurd action, though, as I looked around at two
of the men who had abused me, and the third who had recorded it all.  Jesus
was in the bathroom, complaining loudly how much it hurt to pee after
cumming "in a little girl's mouth."
     Jesus reappeared a moment later.   He already had on his clothes,
though they were un-tucked and rumpled.  He leered down at me, his little,
used up treat on the floor.
     "Can I go now?" I asked.
     He actually nodded, "Any time you want." And he fixed me with a grin.
     I understood the grin a moment later.  I couldn't even get to my knees,
much less stand up.  Every inch of me seemed on the verge of bursting into
horrible pain, but was held in check by the cocaine coursing through my
veins and particularly my lower abdomen, which seemed to have gained an
extra fifty pounds.  I looked down at my useless body, which refused to obey
any but the slightest commands.  My beautiful lace was stained with semen
that dribbled down my chest, and I had little doubt that three men's sperm
were pooling up in the sheer crotch of my brand new panties that I'd bought
specially for Pierre and Raul to surprise them.  Spoiled now by a gang of
creepy, lecherous thugs in security guard costumes who practically forgot I
was there; they were so busy congratulating themselves for having gotten to
fuck me.
     I found myself being hoisted onto the couch my Renaldo, but I was
promptly forgotten when he dumped me there until after much chatting, pats
on the back, and lecherous jokes, Renaldo and Pedro were ordered out by
Jesus to get back to their rounds.
     I didn't know what to do.  If I couldn't walk I was stuck there, but
nothing I could think of would shake the coke high, much less recover me any
faster from having been owned by three guys in a row.  I waited, trying not
to weep openly, for my body to regain its strength.
     "You did a good job, little girl." Jesus said, fixing his tie in the
bathroom, though the mirror he used was right by the doorway.
     "My name's Ariel."
     "Ariel, eh?  That isn't exactly a porn star name."
     I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about.
     Then I thought of the camera Thomas was busy putting away.
     "What's the camera for?"
     "Oh, Thomas is a bit of a film maker."
     "I go to the Art Academy." Thomas added.
     I thought I should get nervous, or even scared, but my body and my head
just wasn't up to the task.  I instead took it very clinically, "What are
you going to do with those tapes."
     "Oh, I just collect material.  You never know what will be useful."
     Jesus leaned out the door, "Thomas is into making experimental films."
He added, emphasizing the 'experimental' part and rolling his eyes while
Thomas wasn't looking.
     "You're not going to show those to anyone, are you?"
     Thomas smiled, actually looking bashful, "Oh, just in class.  I mean,
it's not like TV stuff."
     Jesus cut off my protestation, "Which brings us to the community work I
was talking about."
     "What?" I had forgotten all about that.
     Jesus walked out of the locker room looking at me.  I still couldn't
move as he looked at my huddled, crippled body, "Well, Thomas isn't what
you'd call a social fellow.  He has a hard time making friends, and I
thought having a nice girlfriend would help him open up a bit."
     I looked at Thomas, trying to feel horror, but still disconcertingly
numb.  He just gave me this geeky, innocent look, as if he was asking me to
dance but couldn't quite find the words.  "I'm also looking for someone to
model, you know.  For some pieces I have in mind."
     I had just gone ahead and done three complete strangers on tape.  I
figured there was no point in fighting it now, when I couldn't even sit up
properly,
     "Sure, sounds like fun." I said weakly.
     Then I collapsed on the couch and passed out.  My last thought was
seeing the clock.  It read '7:15.'  I had been fucked for three hours.  No
wonder I couldn't walk.
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