When the bell rings, gracing me with silence from Valentina, I gather my things, while Blaze yawns and slowly reaquants himself with the real world. I’m not sure I could handle coming back to that class after lunch.
I pull out my phone and text Jimmy. I’m in need of some alone time, so I tell him I’ll meet him after lunch, then head down the hall to where Sindaco had shown me the cafeteria.
I’ve never been a huge cafeteria fan, but the food’s supposedly free, so it doesn’t bother me.
The cafeteria consists of a large room lined with glass walls, one of which opens up to the student courtyard, the other looking out to the rather mundane looking road lined with cookie cutter houses.
To the left is the actual food line, except it’s not just one food line. Closest to the door is a line labelled ‘The Strong.’
Various interesting characters stand in this line, bodies covered in nothing but some of the most interesting tattoos, piercings, and body modifications I’ve ever seen. Many of them have unnatural skin tones, much like Korn, who I notice standing in line near the front. The students here seem to be served first, and their plates are intricately decorated with fine cuisine.
Next to that line is one labelled “The Diverse” and the students here appear more, well, average, at least compared to the previous line. Many of them wear some form of clothing, at least a little, and express all sorts of fun hair colours. Though quite diverse, their skin tones also seem more natural, rather than the artificial, dye-cast fashion of the Strong line.
The final line is labelled “Normies and Cishets.”
Seeing as people keep calling me ‘cishet,’ I assume that that’s my line and head towards it.
After a few minutes of avoiding meeting anyones eyes, I make it to the front of the line, finally able to see what’s available for lunch.
A bored looking older lady slops some sort of beige goop onto a plate and hands it over while gossiping with a coworker, not even bothering to look at me.
I glance down at it hesitantly and scrunch my nose. Is that even food?
“Um, excuse me-” I try, earning a scowl from the lunch lady.
After half a second of silence, she turns back to her friend.
“I’m sorry Frannie, go on.”
I know when I’m not welcome, so I accept my fate and head out with the disgusting plate of goop.
Upon re-entering the main cafeteria space, my eyes are blinded by the bright sunlight coming in from the ceiling and windows. After taking a moment to gather my surroundings, I realize that the eating area itself is set up much similar to the food line. Tables are grouped together in lines, not unlike the eating halls of Hogwarts. However, rather than Houses, these tables are sorted by social rank.
The Strong get the table closest to the window, where cars pass by like rats stealing cheese. In the middle is the Diverse table, next are the Normies, and closest to the food and waste bins is the CisHet table, the smallest of them all.
Mila is sitting at this one, her purple and blue hair flowing across her shoulders gently. She’s the only person I can recognize so far, but I’d rather sit with strangers. After all, it is her fault that I got publicly humiliated by Valentina yesterday.
I sit on the far end of the Cishet table, away from her and a little too close to the trash dump. The smell of waste violates my nostrils and what little appetite I had is now gone.
I look behind me at the garbage area. It’s a large bin, much like those behind restaurants, overflowing with discarded food and drink. A purple skinned, yellow haired kid from the Strong table passes by and tosses their half eaten plate of synthetic filet mignon carelessly into the pile, tentacle genitalia flapping around chaotically.
Several dirty, bruised, and naked students with chains and collars around their neck slurp up the scraps desperately, fighting over the remains like animals. I notice the girl from my class earlier, Ali, in this magpie. These must be the Bigots, the disgraced ones who have broken one of the primary laws. I shudder. That could be me.
I turn around to find Mila sitting beside me.
Dammit. I had specifically sat on the other end of the table. Can’t she take a hint?
“Uh…” I try to be mean, but I just can’t. I’m too shy. “How may I help you?”
“Hey,” she says, looking away. Looks like we’re both shy. “I just wanted to say…”
“You’re sorry?” I interject.
“Yeah. I didn’t know what would happen when I said what I said. It used to work for me. I was – I was just trying to look out for you.”
“Well look how that turned out,” I say sternly, finally having earned a bit of confidence.
She looks down at her hands, which she plays with nervously.
“Forget it,” I sigh. “That was yesterday, right? Anyways – why are you at the ‘Cishet’ table. I thought you were pan or something?”
“I’m panromantic,” she says, “But I’m asexual. And anyone who isn’t 100% pan and willing to do basically anything with basically anyone above them who wants it is marked as ‘cishet’ these days. The only thing worse than being a cishet is…”
She looks anxiously over to the pile of slop being fought over by the bigots.
She doesn’t need to say it.
I gulp. Well.
“Look,” I begin. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you or anything. Well that’s a lie. But I’m just not sure I’m ready to talk to you right now. You just remind me of that *punishment*. I hope you understand it’s not something I’d love to have on the top of my mind.”
Mila nods with bittersweet understanding.
“Ok.”
I jump up and head for the music room. Ali crawls over to me on her knees, puppy-dog ahegao eyes throbbing at me hungrily as drool pools off her tongue, splashing down her soft, comfy looking breasts.
I hand her my plate with pity, which she laps up shamelessly.
. . .
Nothing feels longer than the awkward silence after knocking the door.
Garnished with medals, trophies, and golden records, the music room door stands before me like an ominous totem pole, emanating thorny, dangerous energy.
The muffled low end of punky music escapes the slight crack between the shaggy door and carpeted floor, a sea of mild waves shallowly engulfing the scattered sounds of giggles, yells, and gasps.
Finally, some footsteps, and the door creaks open heavily.
“Hello?”
I freeze.
Eccentric eyes contrast her gorgeous, intimidating physique with a curious, playful stare.
I have no clue who this is, but I’m sure I’ve met her before. Yet again, I’ve probably seen a lot of students when I was getting rawed by Valentina, and they’ve definitely seen me.
“Meatsock – I mean uh — how may I help you?” She smiles prosthetically.
*Meatsock?* Is that what they’re calling me now?
“Yeah, um, I’m Eryn.” I cough awkwardly.
The girl frowns at me. “You don’t *actually* have the virus, right sugar?”
She makes my muscles feel cold and rigid again, like I’m naked, which is ironic since she seems so confident yet is actually naked, her toned calf muscles clenching together to keep a vibrating green speaker in her pale womb.
“Yeah. I mean – no. I don’t.”
“What brings you to the private sanctuary of Cream Pie then, little dandy boy?”
“I came to check out the band.”
“Oh, that’s cute,” the strange girl crosses her arms. “Sorry, members only. Unless you’re here to provide *services*, no guests allowed. Especially not cishets.”
I frown, flustered.
“I’m sorry,” she tries, shrugging showily, “It’s just the way it is.”
“I’m Jimmy’s friend,” I try desperately.
The girl frowns and glances back into the room at someone out of view, beckoning them over.
“Hey man!” Jimmy smiles, reaching the door posed for a high five.
I complete the five.
The girl smiles, her opinion of me seemingly changing instantly.
“I’m sorry, I’m London,” she smiles cheerily. I know that name.
I hold out a hand to shake, but she slaps my ass, ushering me into the room.
Beyond her is a cozy, dim fortress of couches, chairs, amps, and instruments.
False ceiling lights fluctuate in colour to the beat of the music, which blasts in hi-fi from seemingly everywhere at once.
Several students lay around the room, some fucking around on guitar, others in couches or laying along mattresses blissfully.
I notice Harlow on the far end of the couch, talking to a busty blonde.
“Come meet the band,” Jimmy leads me to them eagerly.
“Guys,” he calls to the room, the music turning down ever so slightly at the sound of his voice. “I’d like y’all to meet my good friend Eryn, also known as Shaggy.”
“Shaggy!” one says, sitting up excitedly.
“Wait, Meatsock is Shaggy?” another frowns.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I wave awkwardly.
“Sit down,” London giggles, pushing me onto the couch abruptly. I glance around myself. London sits beside me. To my other side, the dirty blonde’s humongous torpedo tits loom right over my face.
I hastily push myself to a sitting position.
“Yora,” she grumbles, seemingly annoyed that I interrupted her conversation, and shakes my hand lazily. Beside her is Harlow, who waves shyly.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hi.”
“I’m Cax!” says Caxlene, who I recognize from the dance competition. She’s got a white hairband on, and seems to also be keeping one of those speakers in, which bulges and glows a bright purple through her flat yet toned pale belly as she does some weird exercise involving kicking her knees up to her hands.
“I’m the band’s interpretive dancer.”
I smile and wave awkwardly.
“The name’s Sin, I play the steel drums,” a girl in a purple suit and top-hat smirks and waves a white gloved hand at me politely.
“You were the judge for the dance contest today, right?”
“I’m also a streamer and edit the school newspaper,” she winks at me goofily as she slides a tenth drum stick up her vag. She grunts and changes her focus to holding them all in.
“I gotta shit.” Jimmy gets up and leaves the room, blushing.
“I’m Li,” a short & short haired student in a beanie waves at me.
“Who’s that?” I point to a small, mousy looking girl in a maid outfit, who bends over by a mini fridge.
“Vira!” London calls, “Get us some ale!”
Vira stands up with a tray of fancy looking shot glasses, each topped up with bright yellow liquid. Looks like she already got the drinks ready.
She carries them over quickly but carefully, and hands me a glass. I sip it, expecting ginger ale. It has a similar sparkly texture, but tastes… *warmer*?
“Is this all?” London sighs, spitting out the juice. “It’s cold. Go make some more.”
Vira bows politely and scurries back over to the mini fridge, this time sitting on a little stool behind it. She raises her stocking-ed legs onto the fridge, skirt lifting to reveal a cute, clean pussy, which she slides a tubed straw up. Yellow liquid begins trickling out of her slowly, streaming down the tube and the side of her leg and into the fridge. She presses a button labelled *distill* and an engine begins revving up.
I choke on my drink. “This is *piss*?”
London frowns. “Yeah, what of it?”
I put my glass down, no longer trusting anything.
Yori snickers.
“So how do you like the gang?” London asks.
I hesitate. “Well… I haven’t really seen you guys play yet…”
“We’re not guys,” London snaps. “But I just mean us as people.”
“Oh – you all seem pretty chill,” I try.
She smirks triumphantly. “This isn’t all of us, but I’m sure you’ll meet the others soon enough.”
“It’s brewing, master,” Vira courtesies meekly,.
London smiles coldly. “Good girl. Now come sit on daddy’s lap.”
Vira brushes her apron off and sits her tiny ass on London, who begins caressing her fondly.
“So… are you two in a ddlg kinda relationship?” I ask, trying to bring up some sort of conversation to end the awkwardness while London slides her hands up Vira’s dress to squeeze on her quite voluptuous tits.
“Huh?” London looks up from Vira’s cute thighs. “Oh, no we’re not. In her dreams. Vira’s just a normie groupie.”
I nod. “So she’s not in the band? She’s just like your servant.”
“Only by choice,” London shrugs. “Bottom feeders will do anything to get a view of glory. Watch this.”
She goes back to fondling Vira, nipping at her nose teasingly. Vira blushes and snuggles in while London massages her wet spot.
“Sweetie, can you push for me?” London gently places a palm on her belly.
Vira sniffles her nose and grunts, and her pussy starts to spread open, as a pastel yellow and blue egg the size of a softball slowly pushes out of her. After a moment of struggle, seemingly stretching her to the limit, it plops out into London’s lap with a wet slap.
London slowly slips in a finger, and then a second, gradually going knuckles deep. Soon enough, she fits all five fingers in Vira, and slowly pushes her fist up between her thighs.
Vira attempts to contain her obvious grunts and groans. I can’t tell if they’re of pain, fear, lust, or a little of each.
“See,” London grins proudly, “this cutiepie belongs to us, we can do whatever we want to her.”
London slides her entire arm up Vira’s tiny belly, covering her mouth with her other hand to stifle the moans.
“Anyways,” she continues, “Were you hoping to maybe be a groupie?”
Even without seeing that display, no thanks. “Actually, I was hoping to join your band as a guitarist.”
Vira begins shaking and shuddering as wet fluid flows down her inner thigh and up London’s arm.
London laughs, but I’m not sure if it’s at me or the groupie.
“Do you play any instruments?” she asks, smiling a little patronizingly.
“Uh, yeah, I play the guitar, bass, keys, and am kinda learning to sing.”
“Theremin then!”
“What?”
“Normally it’s an instrument you play without touching, by moving your hands all wizardly and playing the thing like it’s the Force. Only other one that can make a lady sing so loud without touching em is me, but I play the Queef Kazoo. Anyways, I was thinking maybe you could shove it up your ass and play it with the vibrations of your rectum instead.”
“Uh, no thanks, but thanks.”
She pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Fine, you can just play it the normal way, but only cause you’re so cute. Also, it’s gonna be a badgermin then.”
“A what?”
She laughs heartily. “You’ll see.”
“So… am I in?” I test my luck.
She bites her lip. “That depends on if the others like ya. Usually we’d never let a cishet in, but you’re Jimmy’s best *non-gang* friend so I think we can give the exception.”
I bow my head a little appreciatively. “Thank you.”
“No problem cutiepie.” She slaps my thigh affectionately.
Vira’s orgasm finally calms down enough to allow her to think.
“M-master,” she starts shyly, “The brew is ready.”
London sighs. “I suppose you can’t really take two arms yet anyways. I guess our fun is over.”
She draws her arm out of Vira slowly, a sticky, wet residue splashing out onto London’s lap.
“You’re gonna get me pregnant,” London jokes.
“Anyways,” she smirks, slapping Vira’s ass, “Get to it.”
London turns to me curiously.
“Can you take two arms?” she proposes, as if we’re talking about sports.
I shudder again. “Uh, nope, not that I know of. Most I’ve taken was Valentina.”
London grins evilly. “That’ll change.”
“Look,” I try, annoyed but still too hesitant to be too rude, “That probably hurts, a lot. You may enjoy being the one doing it, but you don’t know what it’s like for the receiver.”
London gasps, covering her mouth and grinning as if she’s already won.
“I don’t, huh? I never receive? Man, I receive professionally. I just fuck other’s when I’m bored. Or when they’re really really cute, like Vira.” She slaps her petite ass.
“Or you.” She winks at me.
Uh oh.
“Anyways,” she remarks, “Trust me, whatever I give is nothing compared to what I take.”
“Prove it,” I try impulsively, not quite sure why. I suppose she is really hot, but she’s also scary.
She smiles stubbornly. “All right, it’s on. I need to get my hourly stretch on anyways. I’ve got a competition tomorrow.” She parts her muscled legs, further displaying her bare, puffy-lipped pussy. “Girls!”
Yora, Harlow, Caxlene, and Li kneel down by her crotch. Sin is too busy trying to get the bundle of drumsticks, now more than 25 – at least – out of her uterus. She must have accidentally swallowed them all up.
“Need some motivation.” London claps and the music changes to some epic radio hits. “Let’s get me greased up girls.”
While Harley succles on one of her boobs gently, Yori grins up at London and begins doing some fancy finger movements with her hands. London’s eyes roll over as she fits her whole fist in. She slowly slides in and out, in and out, gradually getting deeper and faster each time, pulling all the way out and slamming all the way in.
Within what feels like 30 seconds she’s already wet enough for Cax to fit a fist in, and then Li.
Three arms fill London’s insides, her stomach bulging their shape’s out heavily, yet she seems bored.
“Harley, why don’t you go in.”
Yora laughs. “Harley could put her whole arm in and not even reach the back.”
“Why don’t we see?” London shrugs.
The girls pull their arms apart a little to stretch a large enough gap. Harlow smirks shyly and slips her hand in, sliding in with a squelching noise until her shoulder slaps into London’s box.
“Did you reach the end?”
Harlow blushes and giggles. “Nope.”
“Hot damn,” Yori mutters, “I bet Vira could fit too.”
Everyone turns to Vira, who is nervously assisting Sin with the drumstick problem. They’re still stuck. She looks up in a panic and rushes over, first grabbing the steaming cup of piss that finished brewing.
“Yes masters?”
“Vira,” London grins, “Put your head in me.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Just trust me,” she winks, “You need to wash your hair anyways.”
Vira hesitantly removes her glasses, then gets to her knees and bends over. The other band mates help usher her head inside London, removing their arms slowly as they do so. London’s clammy lips slap around Vira’s neck. A basketball sized lump emits from London’s belly.
She sighs. “I thought you guys were gonna keep your arms in. This is nothing, I used to do this with soccer balls during practice back in the day.”
“Oops,” Yori shrugs.
“Sorry L,” Li shrugs less sarcastically.
Vira tries to say something but it’s hard to make out through London’s womb.
“She says it’s quite spacious.” Can London really hear what she said through the vibrations in her body?
Everyone sprawls back across the couch and carries on with their going-ons. Sin tries to get the drum sticks out with another one, but gets that one stuck too. She sighs and grabs another from a big golf bag full of em.
“So, you’re part of the band now,” London eyes me up, “But you’ll have to know how it works around here.”
I nod for her to continue.
“We aren’t just a school band, people who play music and perform for others. We’re friends. The tightest of friends. We do everything together, and share everything. Even our bodies.”
“So like a harem, or an orgy,” I point out.
“You could say that,” she says, “But we’re more than that. We’re the most elegant, most elite, friends in the school. The Gang is the cream of the crop, and no one messes with us.”
So like a clique, ok.
“On that note,” she continues, “We’re inviting a cishet into the top circle of school society, which is sure to be a controversial move. Even if it turns out to be a good choice, I want you to remember your old place, and how lucky you are to be here.”
I frown. Is she trying to assert dominance?
“Also, if you happen to wish to please me as thanks, I’ll gladly accept any time,” she smirks.
“Uh, maybe another time.”
“I can’t force you, but I know I’ll have you eventually.”
Feeling uncomfortable again, I change the subject.
“Uh, is Vira gonna be alright in there?”
She’s been in there for a solid minute.
London laughs, looking down. “Oh, Vira? She’s fine.”
VIra starts shaking a little and twisting her head around, slapping London’s thighs desperately. Little moans and calls escape London’s pussy, but it’s too muffled to make out.
“Sorry what was that Vira? I didn’t quite catch you.” she asks showily.
Vira begins twitching rapidly, limbs seizing, then goes still.
“See she’s fine.”
Worried, I grab Vira by the petite shoulders and tug her head out of London’s snatch roughly.
London’s eyes roll up and she lets out a soft scoff. “Oh you really are frisky aren’t you.”
I glare at her angrily. Vira slips out and falls to the floor, unconscious, her head caked in a white film.
I place my palms below her exposed breasts and attempt to give CPR. After a couple pumps she sputters up a gallon of thick white goo out of her lungs and onto my face. I grimace as it runs down my cheek.
“Nice one!” London laughs excitedly, taking a sip from her fresh piss.
Vira sits there, coughing quietly.
At this moment, Jimmy walks in the door, brushing sweat off his forehead. “I’m back.”
“Have a nice shit?” London smirks, “You missed the fisting.”
Jim’s jaw drops and he facepalms. “I *always* miss the fun stuff. Dammit.”
He sits on the couch.
“Well hey, you don’t miss *everything*.” London leans over and grabs Harley, making out with her overtop him.
“Yeah but you never let me join.”
“That’s true,” she smiles, “But only because it’s funny to see you flustered.”
That makes sense. Somehow, after all this time, Jimmy is still one of the few virgins in the school. He’s told me that every time he gets close, something happens that prevents it.
Jimmy’s face goes red.
“I’m only teasing,” she smirks, leaning back. She sighs and glares up at the ceiling.
“I needa stretch more,” she mutters, “I’ve got a game coming up.”
She snaps her fingers and Vira, her hair sopping wet, hustles over to the wall and retrieves a weird phallic rubber funnel thingy.
London starts stuffing it into herself.
“I put him on the theremin,” she says to Jim casually.
“Makes sense,” he nods, unphased as she slams the rubber thing up her base. “Was he down for your asshole variation?”
I shake my head.
“He’s got the badgermin though.”
He grins. “Nice.”
London beckons to Vira, who grabs a large plastic jug labelled “London Juice.” It’s full of creamy whitish clear stuff, which Vira begins to pour into the opening of the funnel dildo. It gradually begins to expand as she pours it in by the gallon, causing London’s belly to bulge to an increasingly freaky size, not unlike the blueberry girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Her eyes roll over for a sec.
Noticing my staring, she smirks. “It’s practice,” she says matter of factly.
“You’re an athlete?”
“Vira go get my jersey.”
Vira passes London a white jersey, which she throws on. Number 69. She smiles up at me proudly. It’d usually be way too big for her, the sleeves covering up her pretty hands, but her belly is so stretched by now that the jersey only covers the top of her chest.
Her eyes roll over again as the funnel reaches its limit.
“Stop?” Vira asks politely.
“More!” London moans, biting her lip nervilly.
Vira pours in another jug full, causing it to overflow out onto the couch. This garners the attention of Harley and Yora, who cease their gossip.
“Kay close it now!” London yelps, and Vira pinches the top of the funnel, causing all of the liquid to shoot into her master’s gut. She pulls the now empty funnel out, leaving London’s massive balloon belly full of goo.
Her tongue hangs out and drool begins to drip down her breast as she grabs onto the couch tightly with her hand, using the other to touch herself.
Vira kneels down and starts licking up the leaking cum frantically.
“Trampoline!” Harley squeeks, elbow diving into London’s tummy wrestler-style, causing all the cum to shoot out of her in one big projectile wave.
Gallons upon gallons of sticky white fluid crashes down on Vira, completely covering her in the stuff. She blows her splattered hair out of her face and wipes some juice off her mouth. She’s really not having a good day.
Panting heavily, London’s confusion and anger switches to amusement, as she pushes Harlow onto her back and begins to fuck her silly.
“You made daddy proud,” she beams.
Jimmy sits there in shock and awe as this happens. He tries to reach a hand over to London’s pussy, which is still spurting out shots of the residue in her tummy, but she slaps his hand away.
“Alright, I’m gonna head home I think,” I say, awkwardly coughing and fiddling with my shirt, “I’ve got a lot of Common Decency homework.”
London moans at me, “Aw c’mon, stay a while and have *fun*.” Harlow begins to squirt a little, letting out a high pitched sigh.
“Aw how come he gets to?” Jimmy facepalms again.
“Cause he’s not a virgin,” she laughs. “*Definitely* not.”
I turn to Jim. “Are you comin’ on the bus bro?”
He’s watching London and Harley’s little commotion eagerly. “No, I’m good. I think I’ll stay here and get some practice done.”
I highly doubt there will be much music going on, at least for the others.
I glance over to Sin, who’s got double the amount of sticks in her now. She tries to shove another stick down her throat, apparently to ‘push the other sticks out from the top,’ but it gets stuck and she begins to choke violently.
Vira runs over, panicking, and gives a little pump on Sin’s stomach, causing the sticks to shoot out rapid fire, burying themselves into the wall like arrows. Good thing none of them hit me. I shudder.
“You – you saved me.” Sin grabs Vira behind the head and brings her in for a long kiss, ceasing her polite excuses. Vira calms down and gives into the moment, getting on top of her like a little cowboy.
Yori slobs on Li’s proportionately massive prosthetic cock, taking the whole thing down her throat. Impressive.
I sigh and shut the door behind me. As fun as all that looks, it doesn’t feel hard at all to get the fuck out of there.
. . .
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/hx9dpn/fuck_school_meating_the_class_part_2