Chapter 8

NUMBER 34 & 35

The "musicians" of the rock band thrashed away for all they were worth on the tiny stage of the Greenwood High School gymnasium, but their collective efforts produced nothing more than a wash of reverberating mush as the over-amplified music bounced randomly back and forth off the bare, wooden walls of the box-shaped gym. The kids didn't care, though. They never did. As usual, they just milled around, boys on one side, girls on the other, with the few couples brave enough to dance bouncing awkwardly up and down - more or less in time with the deep throb of the bass - in the centre of the floor.

The walls of the gym were festooned with bright pink balloons; blue and pink streamers created a curtain over each doorway; a number of bowls of pink grapefruit punch (three of them now, predictably, spiked with vodka) sat on a long table against one wall; and a large banner proclaiming "Happy Valentine's Day" in large pink letters (the "i", of course, dotted with a heart) hung over the stage where the band was playing.

A typical Valentine's Day dance at Greenwood High.

In keeping with the theme, Stacy arrived at the dance wearing pink and blue. She was beautifully decked out in an extremely short pink skirt (no more than four inches below her bum) and a sleeveless, powder blue blouse. This, along with the pink knee-socks and white high-heeled shoes gave her an appealing, little girl look, which was enhanced by the fact that she was wearing her hair in a pony tail.

The look, however, hadn't been her choice. Very little was, these days. The outfit had been selected by Sharon to create this effect. In fact, Sharon was now frequently picking out which clothes Stacy should wear for specific occasions. Nothing too startlingly different from Stacy's usual mode of dress, but always a bit more revealing than Stacy would have chosen on her own. Gradually, over the course of the last couple of months, Sharon had been taking over various aspects of Stacy's life in general. Stacy had objected at first, but Sharon had made the usual threats, and Stacy had inevitably capitulated. As well, Sharon was now able to compel Stacy's obedience by threatening to cut off her supply of Gary's drugs. By now, Stacy was reliant upon Gary's mixture, which allowed her to get excited when having sex; without it, her enforced promiscuity would have been - and had been, before the session with Ashley - extremely painful. She was becoming, in Sharon's words, "well trained".

A well trained slut.

As it was, the combination of drugs and scotch allowed her to get at least some enjoyment from the sex, a vital advantage since she was having it so regularly. As well as the large number of guys she was still required to fuck to meet her quota of sixty-five before the end of the year, her blackmailers had ordered her not to refuse repeat business. Every time someone she had already had sex with asked for more, she had to say yes (provided, of course, that the asker was willing to pay the five dollars). As a result, she was now fucking and sucking daily, sometimes two, three or even four times. Inevitably, this led to her getting a reputation for putting out, which in turn led more guys to try to fuck her. On the surface, nothing had changed, and she still held her position in the school hierarchy, but among many if not most of the guys at school, the word was out: Stacy Richards was a hot slut, who dropped her panties at the slightest pretext. This was not, strictly speaking, entirely true. In the last couple of weeks, Stacy had stopped wearing panties (another of Sharon's "suggestions"); it was too much trouble getting them on and off, and too many pairs were ruined. Pants were also a thing of the past; the new Stacy only wore short skirts.

The new Stacy was also looking for a guy to fuck. She stood in a corner of the gym next to the door leading to the boy's locker room, playing absently with her heavily decorated charm bracelet (thirty-three bright, shiny "F"s), and scanning the crowd for a likely candidate. She tried to be inconspicuous as she looked around; she had already run into one of her previous "partners" in the parking lot, and had been forced, upon his request, to give him a blow-job. A crumpled, sticky five dollar bill in her purse testified to his willingness to pay. If any others saw her in here - particularly dressed as she was - she would probably have to serve them as well. The blow-job had been made all the more unpleasant by the fact that she had been unable to drink any of the scotch prepared for her by Gary. Without the excitement caused by the drugs, it had been a humiliating and painful event. She was not going to be caught unprepared again. After wiping the sperm off her face (she had been unable to swallow all of it), she had taken a number of swigs from the flask in her purse. Already, she was feeling the warm tingle at the base of her stomach, and her breathing was becoming quick and shallow.

She scanned the crowd, desperate as she became more and more excited. Who to fuck?

Gary looked on, smiling as he saw Stacy - dressed up like some kind of wet dream - call someone over to her. It was Paul Baxter, from grade 12. A tall guy with glasses and bad skin; kind of quiet. He watched as Stacy pulled him closer and whispered something in his ear. A few second later, Paul blushed a furious red, but allowed himself to be led into the locker room. The couple disappeared from sight.

"She's found one already?" Gary turned. Sharon had come up behind him as he had been watching Stacy at work. The short girl was holding a glass of punch. She was almost shouting to be heard over the roar of the band.

"Yeah," he answered, shouting in reply. "Paul Baxter; from Rhenquist's French class."

"Didn't take long," Sharon commented, taking a swallow of spiked punch.

Gary grinned at her. "Not the way you dressed her up tonight. Nice job."

Sharon nodded at the compliment, but didn't return the grin. Something was bothering her. "You've made it too easy for her," she complained. "The drugs make it too much fun. She's enjoying herself too much."

Gary's grin just widened. "Well," he answered, "maybe I should let you in on a little secret." He looked around, as if anyone could hear them over the band. Sharon just stared at him, waiting.

"After the first couple of weeks, I stopped putting the drugs in the scotch. Since the end of January, she's just been drinking the scotch. Straight."

Sharon's eyes widened in surprise. "But... that's two weeks now. She hasn't said... she didn't..."

"Right," Gary interrupted. "That's the beauty of it. She gets horny now completely on her own. All it takes is a little scotch, and she's ready to jump into bed with anybody. Soon, I'm going to start changing the type of alcohol. By the end of the year, she'll turn into a slut every time she touches a drop of alcohol. It's all part of the training."

Sharon's surprise turned into amusement. "Gary," she chuckled, "that's perfect." She began to laugh outright.

"What's so funny?" It was Neil. He was already half drunk.

Gary looked over at the laughing Sharon. "You tell him," he suggested to her. "I think I'll send a few more guys Stacy's way. I think I see the Schaefer brothers."

He turned and walked off as Sharon began to explain to Neil exactly what it was that was so funny.

Frank Schaefer shoved open the swinging door to the locker room and ponderously squeezed his bulk through the doorway. He was followed closely by his younger brother, Simon. The Schaefer brothers were both extremely fat - each weighing over 250 pounds - and would have been fatter still if they had not been quite as tall as they were. Still, even at well over six feet, they were each enormously obese. They were a number of years older than the other students at Greenwood, having been frequently held back grades while their contemporaries advanced and graduated. Their size was matched only by their stupidity, and they had become something of a joke at Greenwood. Fortunately for them, that same size protected them from any real bullying, and they were generally left alone. That was why they were so surprised when Gary approached them at the dance and suggested that it might be a good idea for them to go into the locker room "to check things out". They had been puzzled at this, but they found most things puzzling, so they just shrugged their shoulders and ambled into the locker room.

They were greeted by the sound of a female voice as they moved slowly down the short passageway leading to the main changing room.

"Oh... yes... yes... yes."

The voice was low and hoarse with lust. The Schaefer brothers hurried forward as best they could and peered around the corner into the main part of the room.

"Oh yes... fuck me... fuck me..."

It was Stacy Richards! The brothers looked on in amazement. Some guy was lying back on a bench while Stacy Richards - THE Stacy Richards - slid up and down on his hard cock. Her short skirt was pulled up around her waist, and they could clearly see where the cock slid in and out of her moist cunt.

"Oh... oh... oh..."

She had stopped formulating words, and was just panting and whimpering as the pace sped up. Stacy's pretty, blue blouse was undone and she was frantically mauling her own tits. Her chest glistened with sweat as her lithe body bobbed up and down like a yo-yo on the impaling cock.

"Holy cow!" Simon, the younger of the two brothers, was unable to contain himself. Frank swatted him on the back of the head, but it was too late; the damage was done.

Stacy stopped bouncing and looked up in shock. Someone was watching! Beneath her, Paul struggled, trying to sit up. She fought to hold him down - he was just about to come! - but when he saw Frank and Simon standing there with their mouths gaping open, he cursed and scrambled back along the bench. His cock pulled out of Stacy's sopping pussy just before he came, spraying sperm onto her stomach and legs.

"No!" Stacy grabbed at it and tried to push it back into her cunt before it stopped spraying; IT DIDN'T COUNT unless he came inside of her. But Paul was too quick, twisting out from under her and scrambling quickly to his feet. Flushing red with embarrassment, he pulled his pants up, pushed blindly past the Schaefer brothers and ran out the door and into the gym. There was a brief surge of bad rock music, and then the door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang.

Stacy sat straddling the bench, panting with rage and frustration as the still-warm sperm dribbled down her stomach and coagulated in her pussy hair. IT DIDN'T COUNT! And she was still so horny...

She heard a sound in front of her and looked up. The Schaefer brothers, mortified and confused, were turning to leave.

"Wait," she cried.

Frank turned and looked at her. 'Oh god', she thought, 'the Schaefers.' She felt like crying as she regarded their obese bodies and vapid faces. Outwardly, however, she smiled her most seductive smile and - feeling like an absolute slut - gestured for the two brothers to come forward. Her left hand crept up and tweaked her nipple; an involuntary shudder of pleasure ran through her body.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

"The Schaefer's?" Karen burst out laughing. "That's great. Just perfect."

"Not only that," Gary continued, "but I think that the younger one has fallen in love with her. He's already asked her out for the weekend." He was lounging back in his seat with his feet up on his desk beside his computer.

"And?" The question came from Neil. He sat up beside Karen on Gary's bed.

"Well, she accepted," Sharon answered. "For five dollars, of course." The four teenagers burst out laughing.

"Wouldn't want them to think she was cheap, or anything like that."

They were relaxing in Gary's bedroom, going over the updated database on Stacy's "conquests" and entering new information. Gary had been forced to add a new category for repeat performances. At the top of the list was Tim Myers and Dennis Baxter, two guys from Stacy's Recreation class; they had each fucked her sixteen times.

"But the best part," Sharon continued as the laughter died down, "was that he wanted to take her out in public; to a movie of something."

This brought fresh laughter.

"So what did she do?" Karen asked. The normally shy girl was beginning to feel more confident around these people. They were her friends.

"What could she do? She came on all seductive and told him how she would rather spend her time with him alone; in private, so they could have more fun. So, he ended up inviting him to his place for a little 'fun'."

Another round of laughter.

"So what about the latest round of pictures?" Neil asked a few moments later. "The first set did pretty well. Any luck with the new ones."

Gary smiled crookedly. "Oh yes," he answered. "'Cumshot' magazine brought the entire series we shot with her sucking you off. You're going to be famous; or at least your cock is going to be famous."

Neil was impressed. "Cool."

"How much?" Sharon asked.

"Six hundred," Gary answered. "'Young Things' also bought the set with her and the dildo. They'll also be publishing the photos from the first set in this months' issue. That's another $750 to split up. There's a couple others as well."

Karen looked on unbelieving as Gary began to split up the money. She had only become involved in the group's activities after the first set of pictures had been taken, and she had no idea they were making so much money.

"Uh... guys?" She had an idea. "Maybe we can get Ashley involved in this somehow. I could use some of that money."

Gary looked up at her. "Would she do it? Would she pose for pictures?"

Karen thought for a moment. "Well, it might take some convincing; particularly if she knows they're going to be published..."

"Oh, don't tell her that," Sharon interrupted. "Stacy doesn't know. We got her to sign a release one night while she was high on Gary's drugs. All she knows is that we're taking the pictures for our own use."

A slow grin began to creep across Karen's face. That was possible... and she sure could use the money. "I'll see what I can do."

Gary nodded, and went back to counting the money. The four teenagers sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating their profits.

"So," Neil said eventually. "What's this I hear about another football party?"

NUMBER 37-49

Stacy blew into the whistle, signalling the end of the Recreation class. At the "request" of a couple of her students (ie. Tim & Dennis) and with the subsequent "encouragement" of Sharon, she was dressed in an ultra-short tennis skirt which barely reached four inches below the bottom curves of her ass. She had been wearing this outfit to Rec class for the last few weeks, and the male contingent of the class had been enjoying the show, particularly when she had to bend down to pick up sports equipment. At first, she had been mortified, and flushed red every time she caught some of her students staring at her, but after a while she learned to ignore the attention, or, at least, live with it. It might not have been so bad if she had been allowed to wear panties.

The class dispersed and Stacy wandered into the office space set aside for the Rec instructors and began to prepare for Tim and Dennis's inevitable visit. She had been fucking and sucking them the both of them weekly ever since first term. Closing the door behind her, Stacy walked quickly to her bag and pulled out a thermos. She did not want to be caught before she could drug herself with Gary's mixture. She knew it made her act like a slut, but what else could she do? Sex without the drugs was painful and humiliating; the drugs at least took care of the pain.

Stacy opened the thermos and took a drink, grimacing at the taste. Beer! She hated beer. During the last couple of months, Gary had, for some reason, been varying the type of alcohol in which he mixed the drugs. At first, it had always been scotch whisky, but lately he had gone through vodka, gin, wine and now beer. Stacy had wanted to ask why, but was too scared. Of her three tormentors, Gary was by far the scariest. Sharon was a sadistic bitch and thoroughly enjoyed dominating Stacy and Neil was constantly forcing her to have sex with him, but there was something weird about Gary. Something dangerous. It was best just to do what he said and not ask questions.

She took another swallow of the beer and sat down on the desk as the drugs began to take their desired effect. Slowly, but inevitably, she felt the now familiar fog gradually envelop her brain, disassociating herself from her body. Just as inevitably, she felt the warm tingling begin in her groin and then spread steadily upwards into her breasts. One more drink and then she put the top back on the thermos; it was already over half empty, and she still had a session with the Schaefer brothers later that afternoon. Normally she wasn't worried about running out, but it had been a busy day; Pat Saunders had fucked her up the ass in the woods out behind the playing field on the way to school that morning, and Neil had forced her to give him a blow job under a desk in the Study Hall over lunch. Neither had counted. Just as Tim and Dennis wouldn't count. Just as the Schaefer's wouldn't count.

The feelings of arousal began to increase. She looked over at the clock, impatient. What was keeping them? If they didn't come soon, she would be late for the Schaefers. An involuntary shudder of pleasure ran through her body at the thought of the two obese brothers. They were disgustingly fat and stupid, but they could sure fuck! Stacy hung her head in shame as she remembered her slutty behaviour at their place last weekend, but she couldn't help it. She was still being blackmailed by Gary and his friends, and it was the drugs which made it possible for her to carry out her orders. She couldn't help it if she was turning into a slut. But the Schaefers...