Part 2: Tuesday

Chapter 5: Missy

I drove to school Tuesday morning, after a lovely lecture from my Dad about "responsibility" and "keeping a good image for the family" and "representing the family well". So, Dad, how was the fuck with your secretary last night?

Hypocrite.

So, I drove to school. After, believe me, contemplating keeping on driving and not stopping until I got to New York or something. Of course, I couldn't go to New York. I have no education and no skills and would probably have to resort to selling my body. Of course, who'd want my body in the first place? And I didn't want to sell it, either, considering I've said that the thought of having sex doesn't thrill me.

So I went to school. Of course, nobody wanted to see my body there either. They didn't have any choice though-considering neither did I.

I watched as Dave got undressed at the entrance. I wasn't going to go up there with him. I have to admit, I was jealous-he did have support, even though he had a partner he didn't want anything to do with. Jared and the rest of that crowd, were cheering and rooting him on. He did OK. He's not being a complete wimp about this.

Of course, he's not getting abuse, either. They're reserving all that for me. He's just the opening act, I'm the headliner. I went up there after he went in, followed by his friends. Facing the jackals all by myself.

I suppose helping me undress is a "reasonable request". But is ripping my fucking shirt right off? Or snapping my bra, hard, into my back before you take it off, is that a reasonable request? Or making all the cow noises when you take my pants off?

I'm pretty sure somebody roughly shoving their fingers in my (dry) crotch isn't, either. Of course, there was no "request" there. He just did it. Hard. And not in, either, right on my labia. It was like getting poked in the chest, only far worse.

What could I do? I didn't even know who was doing it half the time. There were so many of them. So I couldn't report it. And who'd listen to me, anyway? Mr. Tilling? That's a laugh.

It got progressively worse throughout the morning. But it was worst walking from art class to lunch. People must have seen what other people were getting away with, and that emboldened them. Because my tits were grabbed, and I mean hard, walking to lunch. Someone damn near twisted my right nipple off. I had bruises. I'm not exaggerating. My tits were black and blue by the time I got to lunch, and that nipple was swollen and throbbing. Somehow I managed to get into the lunch line and get my lunch. Somehow I managed to sit down. Somehow I managed not to collapse, from pain and humiliation, right in the middle of the lunchroom.

OK, dammit, I did a bad thing. What I did to Cassie was a bad thing. It was rotten, it wasn't nice. But was it this bad? Did she have bruises? Did everyone treat her like their own personal punching bag? Did I deserve this?

I wanted to ask that question. I wanted to ask it so badly. But there was nobody listening.

Chapter 6: Dave

You know what? I was adjusting. Getting undressed in front of the class at the entrance wasn't as bad as I'd thought it would. Of course, Missy wasn't around, so the crowd wasn't out for blood. And Jared and his pals were there.

The morning went fine. But I couldn't help but notice that Missy really looked bad in second period. Enough. Why did I care.

I got grabbed in gym, but not enough to get off-so, in the next class, I surprised myself by requesting relief. A girl named Cyndi Thomson did me. She was cute and enthusiastic. I still couldn't talk to her, outside of a muttered "Thank you" when she was done-but I was able to relax enough for her to jerk me off.

Then, after class, I went to lunch. That's when I saw it. Missy looked bad.

Her breasts were all bruised. One of her nipples was swollen and didn't look good at all. She looked like it was an effort to walk. She slumped to a corner table like she'd rather curl up in a ball and die.

Dammit.

Jared saw it, too. "Damn. Did you see Missy?" he asked me. "Somebody did a number on her tits."

"I saw," I replied. "Look, I know she was put in the program to be humiliated the way Cassie was. Somehow, physical bruises is not what I think they had in mind."

"I think you're right," Jared said.

"Well, you know. She's my partner. I think I have to go sit with her."

"Really?" Jared asked.

"I wanted her to go through what Cassie went through. This isn't what Cassie went through."

"Good luck. If Cass or anyone says anything, I'll tell 'em you were threatened by Tilling."

"Thanks, Jared," I said, and walked over to where Missy was sitting. "Hi," I said.

She looked up, startled. Then she attempted to summon some of her usual bitchiness. It was pathetic, but she got an A for effort. "What do you want?" she managed to snarl out with a modicum of venom.

"Just wanted to see how you were doing," I said.

"Oh, so all of a sudden you want to be my 'buddy'?" she snapped. The venom was coming easier now. "It's me, remember? Missy? The girl who deserves everything she gets? Go away. Leave me alone."

"I wanted you to go through what Cassie did," I said. "I never saw Cassie looking like her tits had been through a mangler." I don't know if she realized how obvious it was, but she crumpled when I said that. She slumped like a balloon that had all the air let out.

"Look," she said. "I'm OK. Really. Some guys just got a little rough."

"That's more than a little rough," I said.

"Look," she snapped, "I don't need your pity."

"I didn't come over here to give you any."

"Then what did you come over here to give me?" she asked.

"Just a little company. Someone to talk to, if you needed it."

"I don't want to talk." She actually let out a little smile. "I suppose I'll take the company, though."

"Good," I said, reaching for my lunch. We ate in silence for a bit. I think we were both looking at the other warily.

"How's your week going so far?" she asked after a bit.

"All right. Better than I expected. I thought I'd get more abuse for being the class wimp."

"Well, everyone knows you're the class wimp," she snorted. "Taking off your clothes didn't change that." She looked at me. "Might've even helped the situation a bit," she smirked.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"You're not bad," she smirked again. "Especially compared to a beached whale like myself. You're getting the benefits this week. You're partnered with a pile of blubber that everyone hates to begin with. You're golden by comparison."

"You're not fat."

"You need eyeglasses. I need to lose 40 pounds."

"I wear contacts, and they're fine. You're not fat. You're just not skinny. And if you lost 40 pounds, you'd be anorexic."

"I wish. Unfortunately, I like food too much. Anyway. Most guys like skinny."

"I could disagree with that, but I don't know what most guys like. I don't particularly like skinny."

"You don't like girls," she smirked.

"Where did you get that idea?" I asked.

"Have you ever been on a date?"

"A few. Not many. Doesn't mean I don't like girls. What it means is I have a hard time talking to them."

"You're talking to me fine," she pointed out.

She was right. "Yeah. Well, I guess that's because I was worried about you. Pushed my natural girl-related terror out the window."

"I guess you need to worry about more girls," she grinned. Just then, the bell rang. "Dave? Thanks," she said. "I hate to admit it, but I'm glad I didn't have to eat alone." She looked at me. "Stay here for a minute. Let me get a head start to bio. If any of your friends see you walking with me, you'll get shit." Suddenly, she was gone.

I sighed and got rid of my trash. When I got to bio, I could see her getting grilled by Ms. T about the bruises. She must have parried the questions, because she eventually went to her seat and Ms. T didn't do anything. She made it through the class, left, and I went to my next one. The next time I saw her was before last period. We had the same class that period, and, when I turned the corner of the corridor, she was five feet in front of me.

I guess I thought she'd be OK. I guess I thought that a bit of overzealous tit-grabbing was the worst that could happen to her. I guess I didn't think, even considering what she did to Cassie, that there'd be anyone that would take it farther than that. I was wrong.

I didn't really see what happened. I saw a flash of an arm, that's it, and in the crowded between-class hallways, I didn't see who the arm was attached to. I didn't see where it went. But I heard where it went, as Missy let out the most horrific blood-curdling scream I've ever heard in my life.

It didn't stop there. She was wailing. I rushed over to her. The halls were full, and nobody else even stopped! This was getting ridiculous. And Missy was just crying and crying, holding herself up against he wall, barely able to stand up.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Oh God somebody hit me! Down there!" she wailed, pointing to her crotch. Oh, Jesus, she was bleeding. It was running down her thighs. "Oh God it hurts it hurts..."

"We need to get you to the nurse."

"I don't think I can walk!"

"Fine." I reached over, put one hand behind her back, the other behind her knees, and scooped her up. OK, she wasn't the lightest girl in the world-and I wasn't the strongest guy in the world, either. But the nurse wasn't far. I could get her there.

"Oh Dave you can't carry me I'm too fat!" she wailed. "You'll hurt yourself!"

"Shut up," I said, and headed as fast as I could to the nurse. At least someone was kind enough to open the door for me. We went right into the nurse's office.

"What happened?" Nurse Evans said.

"Somebody hit me. In the crotch. Hard," she sniffled.

"With what?" Nurse Evans said, looking at the blood, as she helped me get Missy on the examining table.

"Well, it felt like a fist, but a fist with fingers extended, if that makes any sense," Missy said. "The force was like a fist but I was... you know... something went in."

Oh, Jesus.

"Missy, wait here," she said, and rushed into her outer office. I sat there, listening to Missy's crying, stroking her hand. What else could I do?

Nurse Evans came back in shortly. "Missy, we have a gynecologist on call for the school system. She's on her way here, she was close anyway. I want her to look at it."

"OK," she sniffled.

"You wait here," Nurse Evans sighed, "I need to notify Mr. Tilling about this."

She left again, and I sat there with Missy. The cries were down to sobs and sniffles, but every time she tried to move an inch, she groaned.

"Do you know who did this?" I asked.

"No," she sniffled. "I didn't see anything. I just felt it."

Nurse Evans came in with the gynecologist, Doctor Macafee. "Missy? What happened."

"I got hit. Down there."

"OK. I need to look at it. It's going to hurt, there's nothing I can do about that. But I need to see what's up."

"OK," Missy said weakly.

"Grab my hand," I told her. She did. As the doctor poked and prodded down there, Missy damn near broke my hand. It wasn't nothing compared to the pain I saw on her face.

"Missy, sit on the side of the table," the doctor said when she was finished. Missy did. "Your labia are very bruised. There are a few scratches at the entrance to your vagina. The whole area is bruised." She took a breath then. "Missy, you're a virgin, right?"

"Yeah," she said.

The Doctor took another deep breath. "Whatever he used, fingers like you think or whatever-he punctured your hymen. That's what caused the blood."

The blood just drained from her face. Completely. She looked horrified. "You mean... I just lost my virginity by a punch?"

"You lost your hymen by a punch," Dr. Macafee corrected.

"Same thing. Same fucking thing. Oh, God..." And then she started wailing again.

"I don't know how he got such a good shot. Weren't you walking?"

"No, someone had grabbed my boobs so I had stopped," Missy sniffled.

Just then, Mr. Tilling came in. "What happened?"

"The Program, that's what happened," Missy snapped bitterly. Dr. Macafee and the nurse told Mr. Tilling what had been done to Missy.

"Missy, I'm sorry. But what happened to you isn't The Program's fault," Mr. Tilling said.

"Maybe in normal circumstances, no," she agreed. "But when the Principal calls an assembly and tells the whole junior class-'Hey, here's the bitch that did all those nasty things. And we're going to make her go nude next week!' Well, that's almost an invitation."

"Not for physical abuse," he maintained.

"How long have you been a principal? And you have no idea how vindictive kids can be?" she snorted.

"Not like this," he said, looking helpless. "Look, you have no idea who it was?"

"No."

"I'll try to find witnesses," he said. "Missy, you're relieved from The Program. Come in tomorrow clothed."

"Thank you," she said.

He left then, and the doctor gave Missy a couple of prescriptions.

"You drive, don't you?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"I know where you live. It's not far from me. Why don't you let me drive your car home? I can walk home from there."

She gave me a small, grateful smile. "OK."

Chapter 7: Missy

You know, I didn't have much use for my sex organs beforehand. I had less use for them when they were howling in pain.

I almost asked the doctor if she did vaginaectomies. Who needs the thing?

God, though, it was so embarrassing-crying and screaming like I did. In front of everyone. In front of David, who had suddenly decided to play rescue the damsel in distress.

And, how mortifying. To lose my virginity by getting hit. It was just so depressing I couldn't stand it.

Anyhow, Dave helped me get dressed-again, embarrassing-and then got me out to my car. We went to the pharmacy-which, luckily, was one of those new ones with a drive-through window, I was in no condition to walk-and got my prescriptions. Then Dave drove me home.

Even insisted on coming in.