I’m freezing my ass off.
It’s the middle of summer, but that doesn’t matter. Even on a hot day, I always feel cold, and can’t get by without a big hoodie and jeans. But since I found out that clothes are so yesterday, I’ll have to adapt and overcome.
Jimmy told me earlier that the amount of clothes you wear can literally affect your social status. In theory, I’d be more powerful if I went fully naked, if I understand correctly. But this is the second day of school, and I’m still not used to this 180 degree spin on life, so I’m garnished in cargo shorts and a t-shirt.
To me, this practically feels like being naked. Especially in this cold morning weather. I kick the stop sign out of boredom. Compared to the other students I probably look like an eskimo, though if I were an eskimo at least I wouldn’t get ripped on for being white.
I squint up at the rising orange sun wearily.
I still might not be accepted. I could be outcast again, simply because I’m wearing something that covers myself.
I decide to play it safe and peel off my shirt, tying it around my wasit. That’ll pull off as a skirt. Brownie points.
I’m not taking my pants off though, just in case it incites more unwanted penetration. I can’t take another round so soon, in fact, I’d prefer to go a lot longer than just today without having to endure that again.
Why am I even going back? Good question. Perhaps it’s curiousity. Perhaps it’s horniness. Perhaps it’s just too bizzare to miss out on. I feel like Alice in Wonderland, except all of Wonderland wants to rape me.
I shudder and check my phone. It’s 8:44, the bus should be here in one minute. Knowing my old school, it’ll probably be ten.
Just as that thought enters my head, a big purple bus comes crawling around the corner, silently due to it’s electric engine.
The moment it arrives at my stop, my phone’s time hits 8:45. I’ve never had a bus arrive on time before. It was always forever late or just early enough for me not to catch up to.
The doors spring open, letting out a cacophony of moans from inside, and I propel myself up the stairs, only realizing too late the awkward disaster I’m forcing myself through yet again.
Everyone on the bus stops and stares at me, as far as I can tell. Once again, I’m one of the most dressed here. Plus, most of these people probably saw my ‘show’ yesterday.
I begin to walk slowly down the aisle, but no one seems interested in offering a seat to me. Someone whistles behind me. Another one pats my ass, earning a glare of rage from me. One goes as far as to lay across the seat, close their eyes, and continue sloshing their buzzing dildo in their belly as if they hadn’t even noticed me in the first place.
Eventually I come across perhaps the only student not staring at me, towards the back but not far enough back to be close to Korn and their gang, who eyes me up from their backseat throne savagely.
“Can I sit here?” I try. She’s reading a magazine, with large over-ear headphones blocking out any outside noise. I wave at her awkwardly.
Seeing no objection, I sit down slowly beside her, wincing as my sore ass hits the hard leather seat.
Finally, the girl glances up at me through her messy blonde and brown hair.
“Sorry,” she smiles, “I was so caught up in this.”
I glance at the book she’s reading and realize it’s a rather graphic lesbian smut magazine. On the page she has open, a muscular, hulking woman shoves up to a beefy shoulder inside a petite and teary-eyed asian girl, the outline of a massive toned arm bulging out from her small chest.
The image is captioned ‘Senior Class Freshman Championships Spring 2023.’
“Light read?” I snort.
Seeing her beady hazel eyes, adorned with thin, immaculate eyebrows, I realize that she’s the one I saw yesterday, in the crowd watching me. Twice.
“Yeah,” she smiles, “It’s my friend’s sports mag. She likes to study her competitors.”
I silently wonder what kind of screwed up sport this is.
“She left it at my house last night, so I’m just returning it.”
I nod, acting like I understand.
“I’m Eryn,” I say, holding out my hand. I realize how small she is compared to my arm, just causing me to think of that page in the magazine.
She doesn’t shake my hand. It doesn’t seem to be a thing these days. I suppose it wasn’t ever.
“I know who you are,” she says, without looking up from her book, smirking. “I saw you take it raw from Valentina yesterday.”
“Didn’t everyone?”
She shrugs. “You should be glad London didn’t see it, or she’d be having you already.”
I can’t tell how serious she’s being. I’d prefer not to ask.
I twist my brows and turn to sit facing her. “What about you?” I ask, “Who are you exactly?”
“I’m Harlow. But people call me Harley.”
“Alright Harley,” I grin cheerily, which is rather rare for me. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I can see her blush. She turns away from me and looks out the window, the pine trees and monochrome houses suddenly interesting to her..
I notice she’s the only one on the bus wearing a full set of clothes, yet no one seems to bat an eye to it.
“So what’s with the clothes?” I ask, amusedly.
She frowns. “What about them?”
I motion around us. “Well aren’t clothes like taboo or something here?”
Harley shrugs. “It’s a fitting costume for the show tonight. No one complains.”
I suppose that makes sense. She’s not exactly wearing the most casual clothing ever, her petite body practically crushed within her shiny green and red latex outfit. It’s skintight, and she must not care much about it because her perky nips and tiny camel toe poke through the material boldly. A yellow cape adorns her narrow shoulders.
“What show?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
She rolls her eyes, seemingly thinking I’m kidding around. “Y’know, Cream Pie? The school band?”
“Oh you mean Jimmy’s band?” Jimmy’s always talked about ‘the band’ but never really bothered to mention the name. In fact the only reason I’m taking this filthy bus is cause he had to go early to band practice and I don’t want to spend a minute longer in that dreaded school than i have to.
“Yeah,” Harlow says excitedly, “You know him?”
I nod. “He’s my best friend.”
“You’re Shaggy?” she gasps.
“Yeah, that’s what they call me.”
“Then I guess I already know you more than I thought,” she says, looking down at herself. “But anyways, yeah this outfit is a little feminine for me.”
“Feminine? Isn’t that a Robin costume?”
“Yeah but I’m not a girl.”
“Oh?’ My eyes go wide. Oh shit. I totally assumed their gender. That’s a bad habit of mine. Good thing I didn’t get caught.
I follow her gaze to were the thin latex puffs out and then slips between her cute pussy lips. I guess I can’t blame myself for getting it wrong.
She shrugs awkwardly. “Yeah, I identify as trans-femboi. Ne/ver.”
“Alright,” I nod casually, “Cool. I’m cis male, he/him & pan.”
Ne looks at me strangely. “You’re gonna have a hard time getting by,” ne says, “People aren’t very friendly to cishets over here.”
“Trust me,” I shudder. “I know.”
“Perhaps you should keep that fact a little hidden,” ne suggests, “I mean you can’t exactly lie since you have a student ID but if someone asks you don’t always have to answer everything.”
“Good point.”
The bus grinds to a stall, the engine doing out to that wall of moans. We’re at school. I stare out the window, getting to see the school from a whole new side. The ugly, retro-modernist architecture looms like a massive sore thumb in the skyline, marking a stain of humanity on the nature far in the horizon.
The students gradually cease their dick-twiddling and begin to hop off the bus. Since we’re near the back end of the bus, the only people behind us appear to be Kronos’ gang.
As the students before me slowly file off, I contemplate letting Korn go first or taking my right to cut ahead. They glare at me eagerly.
Finally, I decide to let Korn go. I don’t want to take another ass wrecking in less than 24 hours. They smile at me triumphantly as they pass, and I look away, scowling.
Harley and I are the last students on the bus.
Ne looks up at me, and I can’t tell if it’s pity or disapointment in ver eyes.
“Let me guess, I should have butt ahead?” I mutter as we step off the bus.
“No, not exactly,” ne says. “I would have done the same thing in your situation. But you’ve got to know the way the rules work. Korn couldn’t just fuck your ass whenever like Miss Valentina did. Unless you break a rule, you’re safe. And there’s no rule against pissing Korn off.”
I smile at ver. “Thanks for that.”
“No problem.” Ne thumbs ver backpack. “Anyways, I’ve got to get going. I’m late for band!”
Ve runs ahead, catching the door before it closes.
And with that, I’m all alone.
. . .
I’m supposed to meet Jim in the bus bay. A place where student’s wait for the bus at the end of the day, and also chill out before classes start. It seems rather full.
Some edgy looking kids sit on a window ledge smoking what appears to be opium, while a trio of cute freshmen with yoga buns lay across the floor, shirtless in sweats, working on some sort of poster project.
“Get a vasectomy,” it says, over a pair of peaches, “Snip it before you hit it!” Underneath is a drawing of scissors snipping a vasdeferens.
I shiver, a little queezy.
The bench closest to me is covered in puke. A small teen in a bieber cut is kneeling over, gagging, accopmanied by another student standing with their dick covered in vomit and a horrified expression on their face.
On the far bench, nearest the large corner of the glass walls, two lovers are going at it. Hard. Wait a moment – is that… Calypso?”
A familiar moan echoes throughout the hall. Yep.
I glance up at the clock.
8: 53. I’ve still got time. I’m not supposed to meet Jimmy till 9.
Perhaps I should just sit on the floor. There’s a spot available. But the floors so damn hard on the ass. I sigh, and approach the far bench meekly, unsure of how to interject.
“Um,” I try. No one answers.
The man she’s with, a tall, thin but muscular dude, is kissing her neck so hard he looks like a vampire trying to suck up all the blood of her jugular. With one arm he holds her wrist back against the bench, and the other isn’t visible from this angle, but it’s moving fast. His feet dig into the tile ground as his hips slam back and forth so fast and hard that I wonder if he’s a marathon runner or something.
Cal’s eye’s roll back in her head as she prepares for another moan, meeting my gaze suddenly with a shocked expression. She pats her partner on the back to get him to stop but he keeps going, oblivious. Finally, she smacks him on the head and he looks up, frantically pulling out.
In the blink of an eye, Calypso pulls herself up to a sitting position, her hands crossed neatly over her bare thighs.
“Oh hey Eryn, what’s up,” she asks casually, as if it’s just another Tuesday.
I shrug, dumbfounded, trying to maintain eye contact while she sits there, bare naked, before me. “Not much, just uh, got some time to kill. Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is taken.” I motion to the rest of the room. The patch of floor I had considered sitting at is now taken, covered in a bunch of students in bodypaint. One chubbier girl sits against the brick wall, casually gossiping with her friend with her legs spread open while another friend paints a rainbow on her pussy.
“I see,” Cal nods, awkwardly shifting her sitting position. She looks up to the guy she’s with awkwardly. “This is Patrick,” she says warmly. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Patrick smiles goofily and holds out his hand. It’s wet and sticky. Cal glares at him coldly. He switches hands.
“I’m Eryn,” I say, in case he didn’t catch it.
Patrick’s eyes light up. “Of course, man. I saw you getting pounded by Valentina yesterday. That was sick!” he holds up his hand for a high five. Cal beams angrily at him again and he lowers it shamefully.
“Anyways,” Cal changes the subject, her pale breasts jingling cheerily, “Eryn’s new here and I’ve been showing him around a little. You need a tour guide still?”
Patrick is no longer paying attention, more concerned with twirling some of Cal’s hair and embracing her cheek with his hand. She smiles faintly.
“Uh, actually I have plans to meet with Jimmy,” I manage. “He’s gonna show me the band. Thank you though.”
Her eyes roll more aggressively than I thought humanly possible. “Oh, those guys. Yeah, have fun with that.”
Patrickrick, hard as a puppy’s tail, begins to kiss her’s neck passionately again, bringing her in close while she tries to push him back, clearly annoyed that he can’t wait five minutes.
“Is something wrong with them?” I ask, a little concerned.
“No,” Cal says, her voice pitch raising as Patrick picks her up and sits her on his painfully large elephant cock, forcing her stern facial expresion to melt a bit. He bounces her up and down a little. “They’re – just – stuck up…”
She sighs a quiet little moan, and blushes a little.
The sound of dress shoes clacks towards us.
“Hey there,” a tall, gravelly voiced old guy in a three piece suit says.
“Hi – Mr. – Sindaco,” Calypso manages between heavy breaths.
“Cal,” he replies, nodding at her.
Patrick flips her over onto the bench with a little yelp and begins ramming into her from behind.
Mr. Sindaco turns to me. “And you must be Eryn,” he smiles warmly at me.
I nod, still not used to teachers being so casual about, well, y’know.
He holds out a hand to shake, projecting his voice over the increasing volume of Cal’s shrieks and moans. “I’m Barone Sindaco. Principal of Senior Class.”
My body instantly goes into panic mode. I can’t fuck up around him or I’m screwed. Literally. And honestly, at least Valentina was hot, for a lady in her mid 50’s. This guy… not so much.
I shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” I lie.
“Wow!” he says, nodding proudly. “Not many people are confortable shaking hands anymore. You know, kids these days and their comfort,” he raises his eyebrows mockingly at Cal and Patrick.
Something about that doesn’t add up.
“Anyways,” he continues, “I heard that yesterday didn’t turn out to be the best first day of school for you,” he chuckles.
I fall to my knees and beg. “I know I screwed up, but please don’t punish me for it any further. I didn’t intend any harm.”
Mr. Sindaco watches me amusedly like I’m an idiot.
“Don’t worry Eryn,” he says simply, “Your punishment was carried out to it’s full extent yesterday. Here at North Senior High we like to forget things ever happened once the punishment has been dealt, at least in how we treat our students. You won’t be judged on yesterday’s sins, only the sins of today. And tomorrow.”
He clears his throat and walks down the hall. Seeing that I’m not following, he turns around and beckons me over.
“Come,” he says flatly.
“I’m cumming!” Patrick yells, possibly unrelated.
I follow the principal away from there in a light jog.
“Listen Mr. Sindaco I’m apreciative for your forgivenss but -”
“Don’t worry,” he interupts, looking down at me stoutly, “I know it was our fault. It was your first day and no one showed up to orientate you with the school’s way of life. To be honest, we had just completely forgotten. But yeah, your little mistake yesterday was cleared off for a fresh slate, and Miss Valentina has been duly… punished.”
He stares at an imagination and licks his moustached lips.
“Actually,” I try, “It’s not that. I was supposed to meet my friend here. He was going to show me around.”
“Oh no need for that!” Sindaco pats me on the shoulder strangely. “That’s why I’m here! To give you a personal tour guide of the facility, as a personal apology so to speak.”
My eyes dart around nervously. Jimmy could be here any minute. “But he’ll be waiting for me.”
The principal chuckles deeply. “Don’t you worry. You can meet him once we’re done. Isn’t that what you kids have text for anyways?”
I shrug. He’s not wrong. But still…
“Then let’s be off!” he says, marching on into the maze of a place called school.
. . .
It’s a monster of a building, but once you get shown around it’s actually pretty straightforward, at least on paper.
One giant ring makes up the basic structure, like some retro futuristic UFO. This layers out in a pseudo modern way, with the second floor a little wider than the first. In the middle of the complex is a square plaza.
“This is the Student Village,” Sindaco announces proudly, “The physical center of our school, and a place for communication, relaxation, and other ‘ation’s. It’s a great place when you need some fresh air.”
I look around the courtyard and take in the details. A beautiful little courtyard, with vine laden brick walls, cozy benches, hedges, and even a couple ornamental fountains.
Some students sit around at one of the picnic tables, eagerly pointing at something in a paper.
“It’s you!” one of them exclaims. “Front page!”
In another corner, on a patch of grass, some theatre kids sit on the floor and hoot at a couple of students in elaborate costumes reciting Shakespeare. Except instead of stabbing herself, Juliet rides Romeo, dramatically weeping, causing him to wake up and fuck her silly.
Sitting on the edge of one of the limestone fountains, which is mostly obscured by the hedges, a chubby girl with thick glasses sits, reading a book and fingering herself rapidly. The rushing fountain water mostly manages to overcome the wet noises she makes. Clever.
I realize with a shudder that this is the place the students grouped up at during the fire alarm. The place where everyone watched me get sucked off by Chai.
“Anyways, let’s head to the field.”
Sindaco opens an old barred gate which leads through a tunnel from the plaza.
Mr. Sindaco doesn’t spend much time on the outer yards but beyond the orderly sports fields, rolling hills and scenic woods seem to spread out in every direction. I can’t be quite sure how much of it is actually school property though.
“Moving on.”
We pass through the gymnasium, where a game of dodgeball is taking place. One half of the class wears shirts while the other team wears just their skin. A dodgeball wizzes by my face, making me jump.
Connected to the gymnasium is the fitness room. My face is instantly hit with a wave of humid, cold air.
“This is where the students go to get their daily grind in, or practice skills such as weight lifting, beep test, and thrust exercises. There’s no membership fee, so feel free to wander in any time for a little workout.”
The room’s far walls are made of huge and very clean panels of glass, allowing for a natural light source on the grey and mundane looking tile floor. Rows and rows of various mechanical devices line the room, weight lifts and treadmills and other things I can’t even name.
I notice one heavier student in sweats hop on one of the bicycles and press a button labelled ‘auto.’ The pedals begin to gradually pick up to an impressive speed, and they don’t seem to struggle with it in the least.
Further down the room, a group of wire thin strawberry blonde girls in matching cheerleading tank tops sit on strange buzzing mounts, chattering the daily gossip cheerily over their stifled moans and heavy breathing.
Another student, hair held back in a sweaty headband, is doing sit ups on a heavy iron machine, weights attached to her arms. Each time she pulls herself up, a thick metal rod slides out of her pelvis. Her eyes meet mine for a sec and she stumbles, falling onto her back. The rod slams all the way back into her at an alarming speed, causing her to lay there with her eyes rolled over for a sec before she pulls herself up and gets back to the grind as if nothing happened.
I gulp awkwardly and follow Mr. Sindaco to another set of doors.
“And here we have…” he pushes the doors open.
Bright, colourful lights and sounds fill my senses like water rushing into a drowning man’s lungs.
“The Arcade!”
I gasp in awe. All around me are various games, toys, and other devices of pleasure.
“Think of this as a more fun-oriented fitness room.” Sindaco says, grinning. “This facility is packed with the latest and greatest equipment for fun – and safe – recreational needs. Feel free to use it anytime. I highly recommend viewing the dance table,” he winks and nudges me awkwardly.
All around the cool, dim room are bright neon games, challenges, and rides. A wall of dings, beeps, and grunts of victory, loss, and pleasure penetrate my ears and fill my brain with memories of better times.
Along one wall are the more iconic arcade games. A spiky haired couple in studded leather race each other in a mariokart game, joyous laughs and warm glances contrasting their intimidating appearance.
On the opposite wall are more ‘convenience’ based attractions, such as a line of massage devices, where some curvy students rest bent over a ledge, reading the newspaper casually while a large plastic machine thrusts in and out of them rapidfire, and little mechanical arms rub and push out the kinks between their shoulders.
Further down, what looks like a never-ending row of students lines the outer wall. Hundreds of students wait their turn for what appears to be – a wall of gloryholes?
About ten pairs of bare asses and legs stick out of the wall, each one being pounded into by one of the eager students in line. Beside the asses are some heads, which stick out of the hole in the wall and endure mouthfuls of cock.
One of the students yells out a loud moan, slams hard into one of the asses, goes still for a moment, and pulls out, allowing a few ounces of cum to drizzle out of the rather worn-out looking pussy while their legs shake uncontrollably. An LED number above this receiver dings from 112 to 113.
My attention is caught by some loud and grandiose electronic music behind me. Up in the middle of the Arcade is a raised metal platform, complete with flashing bright yellow bulbs.
“Ah yes,” Mr. Sindaco crosses his arms, smiling. I see you’ve found the dance stand. That’s there’s my – I mean our – most prized dance star – Caxlene.”
In front of a large, high def arcade screen stands a short fem in an even shorter black short skirt and rainbow thigh highs, her right fingerless-gloved fist raised in the air in a dramatic pose.
A crowd begins to form around the platform, cheering.
“Ladies and Gentle-Friends, whomever can defeat our champion in a one-on-one tournament can have them for a day!” a taller, well dressed woman in a top hat and round glasses announces into a microphone. “Come forth if you’re ready to risk it all!”
More cheers, but no one seems brave enough to step up. Finally, a young and enthusiastic looking punk with blue hair steps up, smiling eagerly, and holding her friend, a small and shy looking freshman with short brown hair by the shoulders. She pushes her onto the stage and leaves.
“Who is this?” the top-hat girl asks, leaning over and peering at them with operatic opticals, “a challenger?”
The challenger looks longingly back to the crowd from whence they came, seemingly speechless.
“Uhh..”
“And what is your name, good knight?”
“That young lady is in our Photography course,” the Principal mutters to me, “Excellent talent. Her name’s… uh… hmm…”
The contender grabs the mic awkwardly and mutters, “M- they call me Max.”
“Well, dear Max,” the announcer announces, “Could you just sign here?” she holds out a digital contract, which Max begins to *actually* read.
“It’s no *rush*.” The top hot woman taps her leather boot impatiently.
Flustered, Max signs it and hands it back.
“Alright!” the announcers eyes light up excitedly. “Take off your shirt and let’s get started!”
Max’s disbelief seems to only worsen. “My- my shirt?”
“Yes,” the announcer pats her on the shoulder, “that’s right. The official dance attire consists of a skirt, leggings, and gloves!”
She shudders. “I – I don’t have any of that!”
“Then off with it all!”
The crowd hoots and cheers.
Max slowly begins to pull her pastel shirt up her flat belly.
“Give her a hand with that, will ya Cax? We don’t have all day.”
The other dancer, Caxlene, cheerily skips over and pulls Max’s shorts down to her ankles, throwing her panties into the crowd, who’s cheering only gets louder.
Beet red, Max stares at her feet anxiously while the audience ogles over her bare body.
“My money’s on the ten-timer,” Sindaco nudges me.
“Dance Dance Retribution!” an asian woman’s voice announces from the game’s speakers.
As Max is the challenger, Caxlene gets to pick the song. They select some J-pop song I’ve never heard before.
“Cax vs Max!” the voice announces, “3… 2… 1… DANCE!”
And with that, the competitors break out into frantic movement.
I don’t know a lot about dance, but I can tell it’s an extremely hard song. Max barely manages to make it to each position before the time is up, and it’s clear she’s giving it her all.
Meanwhile, Caxlene seems to be completely unfazed by the speed of the song, matching the screen and hitting every beat perfectly. It’s almost like she wrote the song.
Before long, Max begins to stumble, first placing her foot down too early, then waving an arm too late, and even completely skipping a move.
“That’s right!” Sindaco hollars, “*destroy* her ass!”
Seemingly remembering I’m there, he frowns and clears his throat awkwardly.
The negative points begin to stack up and within seconds the match ends prematurely. Too many strikes.
“And we have a winner!”
The crowd cheers for Cax. Max sighs heavily.
The purple-haired announcer steps back on stage.
“As per the agreed upon rules, Caxlene now has Max for a day!”
More clapping.
Cax steps up to the mic, waving at the crowd.
“Thank you! Thank you!” they say, smiling showily. “As a thank you to all my beloved fans, I’d like to donate my trophy to the crowd!”
The announcer pushes the clueless Max off the platform and into the crowd, who begin to grope and caress her rabidly. Stifled yelps barely escape the mass of bodies.
“What are they doing?” I ask the principal.
He shrugs. “Whatever they want. She gave her consent, so it doesn’t bother me.”
Poor girl. I shudder.
Next, Sindaco takes me to some large, padded doors at the end of the room.
“What lays beyond these doors is a student favourite,” he grumbles as we approach the doors. “Our most laid-back recreational center, the Library.”
“Oh, I’ve already been there,” I blurt abruptly. I’d rather not have to go in there again, I’m not sure if I’m ready to apologize for leaving so abruptly just yet.
“Ah,” he pauses his stroll, “So you’ve already met the members of Club Amora? Highly skilled entertainers. They need new members actually if you were – “
“I’ve talked with them,” I interrupt.
He shrugs and continues the tour, showing me the bath house, the cafeteria, and several different classrooms.
When we’ve nearly toured the entire school, Sindaco asks “So, are there any classes you have your eyes on?”
Honestly, not many of them seemed very appealing.
“Not really,” I say weakly. I’d prefer just chilling at home any day.
“Hmm,” he strokes his chin as if it makes him think smarter. “Perhaps we could put you on a beginner’s curriculum, just to get you started. We’ll rotate your classes daily to fit in most of the general curriculum, and you can feel out which classes you want to stay in.”
I shrug. “Sounds good to me.”
“We’ll start you on your basic class plan tomorrow then. For now, the only course you really need to take is Common Decency. Speaking of, follow me.”
He leads me along the third floor to a single room at the end of the hall.
‘*3E COMMON DECENCY*’ reads the door’s metal plaque. And then I notice the teacher’s name underneath it.
‘*VALENTINA*’.
I attempt to stall, but it’s too late. Sindaco opens the door and walks me in, hand on my shoulder.
The class goes silent.
“Ah, Eryn, I was wondering when you’d be joining us,” says a familiar voice, turning her head to the door elegantly.
“Eryn, this is Ms. Valentina. But I’m sure you’ve already had a chance to meet her.”
Mr Sindaco says his farewells, and within seconds I’m left trapped in the classroom, barraged with cold stares.
. . .
“Class, I’d like you all to meet our newest student, Eryn Hart.”
Silence. One kid chews gum loudly, grinning at me coldly. It’s a small class, with only a handful of desks actually occupied.
Unsure of what to do, I bow my head a little in an awkward courtesy.
Someone snickers. Another lets out a cough that sounds oddly like the word ‘wasp.’
“Now now, I’m sure you’ll all treat Eryn with the respect and openness that my class is known for.”
Valentina glares at the students, threateningly tapping her pointer stick into her palm.
The class goes silent again.
“Eryn, you can sit over there, beside Blaze.”
She points to the back of the room, where a dude in a baggy sweater and frizzy hair leans forward on his desk, apparently sleeping.
I make my way to the back and plop down onto one of the stiff, unwelcoming chairs.
I realize that the guy beside me, Blaze, isn’t asleep, but is in fact leaning over and playing something on an old DS.
Little dings and yells emit from it quietly.
“Hi, I’m Erys,” I try softly.
“I heard,” he grumbles.
“Anyways,” Ms. Valentina starts, “Since this is Eryn’s first day in this class, we’ll be having a little orientation, alright? I want everyone to stand up and give their name and two things that they like most.”
Everyone just sits drooling.
Valentina coughs. “I’ll start. My name’s Ms. Valentina, but you can call me ma’am, my pronouns are she/her, and I like romantic nights on the beach and my pet dog, Sherly.”
A man in a brown coat that looks remarkably like a nazi uniform stands up next.
“Ich bin Adolf,” he says, doing a military salute. Valentina eyes him vehemently.
“I like cooking and hentai,” his voice cracks and he sits down nervously.
Next, a man with curly red hair and a cowboy hat stands up.
“The name’s Axel,” he says rather loudly, chewing his gum even louder, “And I like guns n horses.”
He sits down fast, but Valentina stops him.
“Pronouns?” she taps her foot.
Axel lowers his head out of embarrassment.
“He/him.”
Next up is a tall guy with a thick beard.
“I am Aadil,” he says in a heavy eastern accent. “I like Batata Harra, and my wives Isha, Hadassa, and Baako.”
Valentina doesn’t bother pestering him about the gender thing this time.
“So moving,” she says.
Next up is a skinny man with an afro. He introduces himself in sign language. I don’t quite catch his name.
After that, more awkward silence.
Valentina forces a cough.
“I’m- I’m Ali.” A short, slightly chubby girl with spiky hair stands up from behind Valentina’s desk carefully. Her naked body is covered in purple bruises, bite marks, and whip lashes.
“Get back down there!” Valentina hits the girl on the boob with her pointer stick, causing her to fall to the floor and bow apologetically. “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Anyhow, Blaze, it’s your turn.”
Blaze sighs and stands up, pausing his game.
“They call me Mister Doofenshmirtz, and I like not answering dumb questions. And weed.”
He sits down and Valentina sighs.
“I suppose you’ll learn what kind of trouble he is soon enough.” She walks briskly towards the board, dragging Ali along by a leash.
“This is the only mandatory class you’ll ever have to take,” Valentina starts. “Unlike past systematic norms, you don’t have to complete it by a certain day, nor do you have to attend every class. You can stay here as long as you’d like. I can guarantee that you’ll learn to enjoy my company.”
Ms. Valentina throws Ali a piece of chalk, who begins frantically scribbling down the basic details of what she says.
“Who is that?” I lean in and whisper to Blaze.
“Ali? She’s the teacher’s pet.”
“The what?”
“I dunno. She must have said something pretty bad cause she’s a Bigot now. There’s no coming back from that.”
“So she’s the teacher’s *slave*?”
He shrugs. “She’s everybody’s slave. At least until she can graduate, which might be a little hard with all the… that.”
Axel snatches Ali and starts forcing her head down his dick.
“Axel, for the last time, stop using my tools during lessons.”
Valentina grabs Ali by the hair and brings her back to the chalkboard, smacking her hard on her cushioned ass.
Ali frantically scribbles down this semester’s units on the board while the teacher describes them.
*Unit 1: White Fragility*
*Unit 2: White Privilege*
*Unit 3: Toxic Masculinity*
*Unit 4: Bigotry and Microaggressions*
I shudder and zone out. I can already tell I’ll hate this class.
. . .
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/hx9dg9/fuckschool_meating_the_class_part_1_exh_obj_comedy