Let me start by telling you a bit about myself. I’m an eighteen-year-old high school senior that’s always had a slight bratty edge. Admittedly, I can be a little toxic, but I find it so fun to get under guys skin and prod them until they lash out on me. Sadly, most guys my age can’t deal with that. They have no idea how to handle me. It’s actually really fucking annoying. But anyway…
I have short, thick, curly, sable hair that hangs down to my lightly bronzed shoulders; perfect for grabbing when I act out. My eyes are a sparkling blend of blue and gray. I have a small mouth. Light pink lips. Straight, slightly sharp teeth. And a playful, little tongue that I love to flaunt, especially in selfies. My voice is frisky, spirited, soft, sultry; the kind of voice that implies I want to be fucked… hard! Of course, I would never say that. But perhaps my most prominent physical feature is my pair of massive, round tits. Seriously, they are so big. No matter what I wear, my breasts look like they are ready to burst through my clothing at any moment. They are extremely distracting, constantly drawing the attention of teachers, parents, students, and faculty. I kinda love the attention, but it can get annoying. Especially because, there’s this one guy in my class who always teases me about them.
It’s a shame because he’s actually super attractive. He’s tall. Maybe six-three or six-four. He has a big, cocky smile. His voice has rough growl to it. Very sexy. It kinda scares the shit out of me sometimes. But he is such a fucking dickhead. He’s always going out of the way to make snide, suggestive comments toward me. Now, his new favorite thing seems to be shouldering me into lockers as he passes. God, I hate that. Nobody even says anything about it. I just have to press on as if nothing happened. But anyway, enough about him. I need to tell you what he did to me last week during our Gym class.
Gym has always been my least favorite class. I have never been the athletic, physically competitive type. So, dodgeball, kickball, basketball, and whatever else don’t particularly excite me. Luckily, we are allowed to choose our gym activity every two weeks. I always choose weight room. Because the guys will play basketball or some other game that didn’t appeal to me in the gym. But the teachers will let me, and my other non-competitive friends sit and talk in the weight room.
It was nearing the end of the period. I was getting ready to pack my things. I heard yelling down the hall. So, I rushed in hopes of avoiding the social traffic. A group of boys passed by the room. I met eyes with him only for a second. He went quiet and shushed the rest of them. My heart pumped frantically. I moved toward the door just as he came through the doorway. His built body towered over me. His hand gripped my side in a way that struck fear into my heart. Slowly, he backed me into the room. His two friends followed, locking the door.
“What are you doing?” I questioned tensely; was this going to be another one of his pranks?
“No, what are you doing?” he shot back.
I was taken aback, “What do you mean?”
“You are all alone in the weight room by yourself. You weren’t lifting, were you?”
“No, I was staying away from your dumbass”, I quipped.
The cruel grin that formed over his lips told me I made a big mistake. He pushed me down on the pectoral chest press machine; his friends hovered over menacingly.
“Maybe you should try participating for once,” he teased.
His hands met mine. I pulled away, but he sent a painful slap across my face.
“Don’t pull away,” he chuckled; his friends chimed in laughing as my face flushed red.
He resumed lifting my hands to the handlebars. My arms stretched out to almost a full wingspan. Which for my five-foot-two self was hardly impressive.
“Give me ten reps,” he ordered in a joking manner.
“Seriously?” I asked, dumbfounded by the request.
His hand replied with another stinging slap. Verbally paralyzed, I forced my outstretched arms to swing around and together.
“Count them out,” he yelled.
“One…” I let out with breathless frustration. The inside of my biceps pinched my breasts together as I continued, “Two…” The boys watched intently as I let my arms spread back out. The power they must have felt in that moment was weakening. Thoughts of escape raced through my mind, but how would I make it by all three of them? They were all so much bigger, stronger, and faster than me.
“Keep going,” he teased.
I could feel his gaze groping my chest. But it wasn’t just him. All three of them were staring at my large, round boobs as they shook beneath my T-shirt. Their eyes beat down viciously, like hawks narrowing in on prey. I wasn’t sure where to look. So, I just turned my face to the side. I could not stand the thought of meeting their stares.
“Three… four… five…” I counted, pulling my arms in front of me with each jostling rep.
His friends snickered along with him, reveling in my helplessness. Then, he stopped and looked around. I caught a quick glance as his eyes glistened at the sight of something. I turned to see what he was looking at. A water bottle? He picked it up and drank from it.
“Grab her arms,” he told his friends.
They pulled my arms from the handlebars, tightly latching onto my wrists. My outstretched arms were torn back, causing my back to straighten, my shoulders to fall back, and my breasts to be more prominently displayed.
“LET GO! I’m gonna finish,” I whined.
“Not a chance,” his eyes flared.
Desperately, I flailed; I tried to escape their hold. I really did. But there was nothing I could do, right? My mind raced. Nevermind what I could do. What would they do to me?
Suddenly, a deep realization shot through my brain. He grabbed the bottled water; then doused the front of my shirt. The colder water poured over the top of my chest. Immediately tightening my shirt to my boobs. Under my shirt, the liquid trickled down my nipples. My nipples hardened as the cold water continued to drip down my chest. The thin-lined fabric of my blue gym T-shirt molded to my tits.
“Oh my god!” I dropped my jaw, realizing my nipples were now visibly outlined through my shirt.
His cocky grimace tore into me, destroying what little sense of dignity I had left. Furiously ashamed, I pulled my arms trying to escape. A wave of heat streamed to my face. Desperately, I attempted to pull away, kicking and throwing my arms. It only seemed to bring him more pleasure as my tits shook with every pathetic movement.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” he laughed.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. They stared at my soaked T-shirt with their terrorizing, lusting faces.
“Looks like someone forgot a bra today,” his tone was so sarcastically smug it sickened me.
He pulled off his sweatshirt, dropped it to the side, and slid a stool over, plopping down right in front of me. His fingers reached across my protruding breasts, squeezing my boobs through the wet shirt. His veiny arms flexed as his grip tightened around me.
“Look at you,” he awed, staring at my chest.
His nails dug in to the rounded, outer surface of my boobs. His hold was fierce, sharp, powerful. The way he just grabbed me; only further solidified my vulnerability to him. He cupped the underside of my tits and lifted the weight up my boobs upward. I looked down with a gasping, amazed, wide-mouthed face. Then his hands went up slightly, and released my big, round breasts. They plummeted down and rebounded, like a bouncy ball coming to a rest.
As they came to a rest, his fingers latched-on to the ends of my nipples. Through the shirt, he pulled, tugged, twisted, and flicked me. He could see the facial contortions dancing across my face. I tried to hide them as best I could. But “best” was such a lost term at this point. He continued toying with my nipples, grinning with and enthused smile. The, he sent a tingling wave across my body. My nipples were being pulled straight out from my chest. The tension in my body slowly released as I rolled my head to the side.
“Mmm,” I tried to catch the whimper, but his smirk made it clear that I hadn’t.
I turned my head away as he admired my body. He continued playing with my boobs, lifting them gently; then watching as they fall back into place. He moved up on me slightly. Enough that I could feel his dick shifting against my thigh. The boy to my right had a full-blown erection pressing out his gym shorts. I felt a sick sense of pride as I turned my head seeing the boy to my left did as well.
I looked in front of me to see his fingertips gliding over my wet shirt, teasing my excited nipples. I whimpered gently as his fingers applied slight pressure to the ends. He pinched down, playfully tugging them. My jaw dropped as he guided my chest closer toward his.
I begged, “too hard too hard too hardd TOO HARD!”.
He paused a moment reveling in my vulnerability. Then, he released, respecting my request.
“Since you are being such a good girl,” he laughed…
“Hmm… Should I lift this up?” he questioned rhetorically, tugging on my shirt.
My head nodded upward with a soft moan. Taken aback, his twisted smirk transformed into a destructive grin.
“Really? Did you boys see that? She nodded yes.”
I could hardly believe it myself. He was constantly tormenting me, but I couldn’t resist. He smiled to his friends; then lifted the bottom of my shirt upward. My heavy, round boobs spilled from the shirt; completely exposing themselves to the group of boys. Quickly, his lips plunged to my chest. They tightened together, applying a suction sensation around my nipple. His tongue was twirling around my nipple while the other hand twisted my nipple’s edge.
“Fuckkk…” I whispered, throwing my head back.
“Should I keep going?” he asked.
My mind advised no. I couldn’t let him get away with this. But my selfish body wouldn’t allow such a foolish decision.
“y-yes…” I answered.
“Are you sure?” he offered a second chance.
“Mhmmm,” I let out.
He gave me a pleased smiled as if he expected nothing less.
Suddenly, a rustling of keys sounded at the door. He pulled my shirt down and lifted away from me. We all turned to see Mr. Thompson’s burly arms unlocking the door.
“Why was the door locked?”, he turned to the boys who were now in a row, standing in front of me, facing Mr. Thompson.
“I don’t know,” they replied.
Quickly, I picked up his sweatshirt from the floor and pulled it over my head. Then, I walked through the wall of boys, brushing them aside as I passed.
With a look of surprise, as if he hadn’t known I was there, he turned to me, “These boys aren’t bothering you, are they?”
“No, sir… they were just helping me with a… workout,” I stumbled slightly.
The boys seemingly taken aback raised their brows.
Not fully bought into our responses Mr. Thompson hesitated, “Well then… get to class.”
Hastily, I grabbed my bag and rushed out the door without looking back.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/mk8vbh/humiliated_by_my_bully_and_his_friends