Skanky

by: Wyrdey



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Note: The author encourages unauthorised reposting, sequels, or blatant plagiarism of this work. SKANKY By Wyrdey Bill Kallis sat behind his desk with the biggest hard-on that he had ever had. Bald? Retarded? Flabby? He was lost in thought, completely oblivious to everything that his history teacher was saying. He knew that he held the power of a god over everyone and everything that he saw. Gay? Old? Busty? He smiled to himself as he lazily revelled in his new-found power. It was all such a huge improvement over the previous day. Bill had been so miserable that, as he'd walked down the street, he'd seriously considered leaping in front of a truck. A rather pretty busker had apparently noticed how he was feeling and had started up a conversation. After a while, obviously feeling sorry for him, she had secretively offered him a small slip of paper. Accepting it with curiosity, he had seen that it had '_______ is ___' crudely printed across it. She had explained that if a person's name and a single adjective were written into the blank spaces, then that person would soon become exactly what that word described. Wanting to humour her, Bill had accepted the paper and made an excuse to leave. Shortly after, however, his curiosity had overcome him and he had carelessly scrawled 'BILL KALLIS is RICH' onto the paper. He had been surprised when, the second he was finished, the paper had darkened and shrivelled to ash. He had been even more surprised that evening, when his house had slowly transformed into a mansion. Everyone had acted as though everything was normal, and he'd found that photographs and records had simultaneously changed to match people's new memories. Leaping into his new Ferrari, he'd rushed back to where he'd met the busker, arriving just as she was packing up to leave. She had driven a hard bargain, but after he offered her an amount of money that was impressive even by his new standards, she had given him another two paper slips, saying that they were the last ones she had. She'd called out as he turned to go, warning him to use them sparingly. Something about how the paper's magic could sometimes linger for a while after a wish and interfere unpredictably with the magic of the next one. Bill had just called back his thanks and left. He had been unable to sleep that night. He had lain awake in his huge, king-sized bed, making plans. He wanted to use one more on himself, and was considering what to do with the spare. He had a lot of scores that he wanted to settle. He had only made up his mind that morning. The whole school had been cramped into the courtyard and, despite the heat, had been forced to listen to a lengthy series of congratulatory speeches. It seems Harry Alban had just been declared 'Student of the Year'. Bill had decided then. He hated Harry. Not content with being rich, super-popular, good-looking, a girl- magnet, team captain and star player, he had to be top of the class as well. Bill had written in HARRY ALBAN right there. He had now spent more than an hour gleefully contemplating what word he would use to take the Student of the Year down a peg or two. Tiny? Flatulent? Naked? Unlucky? Fake? Dickless? They were all good, but he wanted to do something very special to Harry. He continued to sit slyly pondering at his desk as the class went on around him. The teacher was just explaining Napoleon's typical battle tactics when suddenly there was a thunderous burst of laughter. Everyone in the class turned to look at Bill, whose expression of devious consideration had changed to one of pure mirth. The teacher waited for silence to return, cleared her throat in annoyance, and continued where she had left off. Bill, still shaking with laughter and biting his lip to try to keep it in, took out a pen and quietly wrote one word: 'SKANKY' Harry Alban was alone in the locker room when he suddenly got a powerful erection. He was getting dressed after a few quick laps in the pool, and stared down at his quivering manhood as it slowly softened back to its normal state. What on earth had caused that? Harry frowned. Nothing unpredictable like that had happened in years, and he certainly didn't need it to start happening again now, just as he was about to be photographed for the local paper. He went to button up his shirt, only to stop hastily. It felt like sandpaper. He pulled it open and, looking down, saw that his nipples looked unnaturally large and puffy. Gentling brushing one with a finger, he winced as he discovered how incredibly sensitive they were. What had caused that? Deciding that they were perhaps putting a bit too much chlorine in the pool, he considered his, still tingling, bright red nipples. He would need to wear something between his chest and his shirt. He remembered the red tank top that he sometimes wore to the gym. He began searching for it through his bag. He knew that it was there: he had recently washed it along with various other school clothes and dumped them all back into his gym bag. He found it. He held it up and stared at it. It had shrunk in the wash. It had never done that before. Sighing, he tried to pull it over his head. It was tight, but he finally managed to pull it down over his chest. It was so short that it only barely came down past his nipples, but that was all he needed. He put his shirt on, and checked to see that the shrunken top wasn't visible beneath it. When he was finally ready, he pushed his gym bag into his locker, left the change room and walked down the hall to the principal's office. The office door opened at Harry's knock to reveal Mr. York, the assistant principal, helping the photographer set up. The room was already filled with some bizarre-looking lighting equipment. A few moments later, Mrs. Frostrup, the school principle, entered carrying a large golden trophy with 'Student of the Year' engraved across it. "Oh hello, Harry," she smiled. "I'm sorry that we couldn't have taken the pictures this morning, but the trophy was unexpectedly held up at the engravers." Harry assured her that it was fine. Mr. York made an apology and left, saying that he was needed elsewhere. The photographer, a thin man with small, round spectacles, introduced himself to Harry. He explained that, to keep the light from making his skin seem unnaturally pale, he would have to apply some light make-up. Harry wasn't entirely comfortable, but sat still while the photographer ran a few large brushes across his face. Harry was lead over to where the principal was standing with the trophy and they both smiled as pictures were taken. The photographer stood back with a thoughtful look on his face. "It might look better if you were a bit higher up," he said to Harry. He walked over to one of his cases in the corner. "I know, you can wear these," he said as he pulled out a pair of platform shoes. "Couldn't I just stand on a box?" Harry asked. The photographer shook his head. "These are better. See, with these we can move you around more easily." Harry was unconvinced, but, not wanting to make a fuss, he began unlacing his shoes. The platforms were a tight fit. He had to pull his socks high up on his ankles to squeeze his feet in. Walking slightly unsteadily, he posed for a few more photographs. The photographer still seemed unhappy, though. "I'm still not sure about the light in here..." he said, frowning. He turned to the principal. "I wonder, could I just take a quick look outside and see if there's anywhere..." "Certainly," Mrs. Frostrup replied, "I'll just give you a quick tour of the courtyard." She turned back towards Harry. "It'd probably be easier if you waited here," she said. "We shouldn't be more than ten minutes." As they left, Harry glanced around the room. He'd never been in the principle's office before, and felt slightly uncomfortable about suddenly being left alone in it. He sat down on the desk, noting the 'Mrs. Frostrup - School Principal' sign placed prominently across it. Then his eye fell on something else. Under the desk was a box, filled with a bizarre assortment of items. Leaning down and rummaging through it curiously, he realised that this was the box of things that had been confiscated from students over the years. He noticed something. There, peaking out from underneath a copy of Penthouse, was a picture of his best friend's face. How had a picture of Steve Ganz ended up in the confiscated box? He pushed the magazine aside, revealing the rest of the photo. He gasped. It showed Steve - completely naked - grinning broadly at the camera as he stood with his member in his hand... And WHAT a member! It was almost as long as his forearm - he could barely even wrap his hand around it. Harry shuddered. This must be some disgusting attempt at digital photo alteration, surely? Steve's locker was right beside his. They naturally averted their gaze, but surely... surely... he would have noticed that! Harry's erection returned, stronger. And what was this written across the bottom of the photo? 'To Heidi - my favourite Boytoy, XXO' What the hell...? Who is Heidi? What kind of girl would even go near that thing? Look at it, so impossibly BIG and HARD and... Harry gave a little gasp as he suddenly experienced the most violent orgasm of his life. He gaped, straining for breath, as wave after wave of ecstasy blew through him. In his pants he could feel himself coming, again and again, each time feeling better than the one before it. It just kept on going. Harry moaned. He had never dreamed that he could possibly keep on going for so long, or that his dick could produce so much cum. He could feel it pooling in his boxers and gushing down his legs. His balls must be almost bone dry. With a final little whimper, Harry finished, dropping the picture from between his numb hands. In his first second of regained self-control he decided that this was somehow related to the earlier business in the locker room, and the fact that it happened while he was looking at a naked picture of his apparently incredibly well-endowed best friend was merely a coincidence. He glanced down at himself and gasped in horror. The entire front of his pants was saturated with cum, rivulets of it still visibly flowing down his pant legs. He could feel his boxers clinging coldly to his thighs, and even his shirt tails were dripping. He groaned and made a mental note to see a doctor about all this as soon as possible. But in the meantime, what the hell was he going to do? He started to pull his pants and boxers off, dripping all over the floor. He cursed and tried to rub the pools into the carpet with his feet. Trying to remove the platforms, he found that for some reason he couldn't get the laces undone, and just finally yanked his pants past them. He tore off his sodden shirt and tried to use the dry areas to clean himself up. Every inch of him had the musty reek of stale cum. Standing almost naked in the principal's office, he experienced a moment of pure nightmarish panic. What the HELL was he going to do?!? They would be back any minute! Then he suddenly remembered his gym bag sitting just down the hall. He had a change of clothes in there, if only he could get to it... He thought briefly of making a dash for it: class was on, the corridors would be mostly empty, but... No, he couldn't take the chance of even one person seeing him like this. If only there was something that he could... The answer hit him like a thunderbolt: there were clothes in the box under the desk! He had seen some of them as he was rummaging around - clothes that had been confiscated because they clashed with the school's rigorous dress code. Making a dive for the box, he searched through it madly. He found a lacy red g-string, a micro-skirt, a girl's blouse and... he shouted in exultation as he found a pair of very loose, baggy, lime green shorts. He pulled them past his platform shoes and around his waist, breathing relief. But wait, his dick was still completely erect with no signs of sagging - it looked like he was carrying a fishing pole in his pants! If only there was something to hold it back... Groaning, he grabbed the red thong and, flipping one of the strings between his legs, tied them tightly behind his back. Perfect, his manhood was now flattened against his leg. He looked down at his tiny red tank top. It was so small and had two noticeable little bumps where his nipples were poking through: it really looked a lot like a training bra. He had to hide it. The girl's blouse was very small and tight. Fortunately it seemed to be made from Spandex or something and stretched well. Strained to its limits, it didn't look all that different from an ordinary shirt - as long as you ignored the incredibly plunging neckline. It would do. Glancing at the door in fearful expectation, Harry looked for something to carry his sodden clothes in. He finally found a little handbag with 'Boy Toy!' written on it in big pink letters. It would have to do. He desperately crammed his still dripping clothes into it. And now to just run down the corridor and... Disaster! Looking down at his ill-fitting costume, Harry suddenly realised that the lacy top of his g-string was poking up above his shorts. Try as he might, he couldn't pull them up any further - the crutch was unnaturally high. Mewling in desperation, he grabbed the miniscule microskirt and began pulling it up his legs. It wasn't much more than a pleated red tartan belt. He pushed it under his shorts so that only the skirt's hem was visible. It covered the tops of his little red g-string and anyone would think it was just the top of a pair of boxers. Gasping in relief that he was finally ready, he ran for the door. He overbalanced and nearly fell on his face. Looking down at his feet, he saw that the platforms looked different somehow. The heel suddenly seemed much higher than the toes, and they looked much more open... Harry, however, was in too much of a panicked rush to give them much thought. He put his head to the door, listening. Silence. He opened it a crack and looked up and down the corridor. No-one. Sighing in relief, he looked down at his watch. He would have to hurry - the class period would be ending in a few minutes. Throwing the door open he... He tried to run but somehow the combination of his shoes, his thong, and the strangely-fitting shorts managed to make it impossible. He whimpered, taking tiny little steps, arms flailing as he tried to keep his balance. He was getting nowhere fast. He pushed the little handbag up over one of his arms, and tried harder for speed. Breathing heavily, he suddenly heard a series off pops as all the buttons burst off his straining blouse. He glanced down to see... Underneath, he was wearing a lacy red push-up bra, the perfect match of his thong. Squeaking in panic and disbelief, he tied the blouse's tails tightly together at his bosom in an attempt to hide this inexplicable piece of lingerie. He was only partly successful - the tops of its big lacy cups and its long red shoulder straps were still plainly visible. In front of him the corridor seemed to stretch on forever. His eye was drawn to his reflection in a passing glass door. He gaped. The make-up that the photographer had applied seemed completely different in this light. Looking at his face, he could have sworn that he was wearing tons of mascara, blush, eye-shadow, eye-liner, the sluttiest red lipstick imaginable... He had to get to that locker room. He looked down at his legs, vaguely noticing the way that his socks were suddenly stretched past his knees and now seemed somehow translucent ... And why could he only take these tiny little steps? In a moment fuel by panic and desperation, he forced himself to take a huge stride, straining against whatever it was that held him back... He heard a loud tear and something fell to the floor. Looking down in horror, he saw the lime green shorts - torn almost in half. He was now mincing his way down the corridor in nothing but a little crop-top and a tiny microskirt. It had slipped so that the front dipped to just barely cover his crotch, leaving the tops of his lacy red g-string clearly visible. Reaching back in horror, he confirmed that it was riding high up on his ass, baring it to the world. With a little shriek, he tried to go as fast as his legs would allow. But he found that he could still only take tiny little delicate steps. He tried to force his legs to move faster, but found that he was only increasing the sway of his hips and the wiggling of his bare ass. He forced himself forward in desperation, he was almost halfway there. The only sound in the corridor was the quick little tapping of his heels as he madly minced his way along. ...and then the bell rang. Harry squealed as every door burst open and crowds of his peers came hurrying out. Blushing furiously, he wiggled his way forward, against the throng. Every eye was on him. The girls stared at him, their faces wrinkling with disgust. The boys stared at him in a strange different way, their eyes dartingly between his hips, chest and face, an oddly familiar hungry look in their eye. "Look at that ass!" He squealed as a passing boy reached out and tweaked one of his swollen red nipples. "Nice tits!" He whimpered in beyond mortification as a chorus of whistles started up behind him for his swaying ass. "Shake it, Toots!" People were following him, just staring at it. One finally reached out and gave him a hard pinch. He shrieked and tried to escape, but just set it jiggling even more. Jeers and catcalls followed him everywhere, leering faces loomed everyway he looked. And then, just as he wanted to lay down and die, he saw his best friend Steve coming through the crowd, staring at him. He tried to scream out an explanation through all of the whistles and shouted remarks, but Steve just walked right up to him and said, "Hey Babe." Before Harry could so much as blink, Steve had grabbed him around the waist, forced their mouths together and begun to kiss him like he had never been kissed before. He tried to shriek, but Steve slipped his tongue down his throat. He murmured desperately and tried to break free as Steve pushed his back hard against a wall, to the shouted approval of every male passerby. As they kissed, he felt Steve's hand wander down and start enthusiastically squeezing his ass. His eyes widened even further when it wandered up to his chest, sliding into the big, empty cups of his lacy push-up bra, fondling and massaging his hairy chest. Harry fought desperately to get loose as Steve began pressing himself tightly against him, but Steve seemed to misinterpret all of his murmuring and struggling, and just pressed forward all the harder. An iron grip on Harry's arm finally managed to pull him free of Steve's amorous embrace. Gasping for air, Harry looked up at his rescuer. It was the assistant principal. Mr York frowned coldly at him. "You're wanted by the Principal," he said sharply as he began dragging Harry along. Harry, still straining for air, whimpered for him to slow down. His tiny little steps weren't long enough to allow him keep up with Mr York's hurried pace, he felt his ass wiggling uncontrollably behind him as he struggled to keep up. Mr York pulled the lagging Harry along after him, only stopping when they stood in front of the principal's office. He gave Harry, panting from the exertion, a firm push on his exposed posterior, propelling him through the door. Harry finally stumbled to a halt just in front of the principal's desk. "I think you know why you're here," the principle intoned without looking up. Harry looked down at her in confusion. Her voice was suddenly so deep. The principal finally glared up at him. Harry gasped and stepped back. She had a thick moustache and a rapidly receding hairline. His eye suddenly fell once again on the sign sitting on her desk: 'Mr. Frostrup - School Principle' "I think we should have a little talk about these photos in the paper," Mr Frostrup growled, his eyes flashing. He opened the paper sitting on his desk to page 3. Harry looked down in open-mouthed horror and disbelief. Under the large headline 'SCHOOLGIRL PHOTO SCANDAL' was a picture of him, dressed exactly as he was now. He was on all fours with a golden trophy perched on his back. It had 'Slut of the Year' engraved across it in large letters. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to it, though. He looked much more interested in the several degrading sexual acts that he was enthusiastically engaged in at the time. He looked very happy. Harry looked up at Mr Frostrup in shock. But the principal cut him off before he could say a word. "Don't try to deny it," he said wearily, "it's not like it's the first time that you've done something like this... Don't you remember how last time I carefully explained that people get mad when you post pictures like that on the internet? I thought I'd made it so clear that even you'd understand." He looked down at it again, sighing. "At least you're wearing something this time." Harry, shaking his head in stunned incomprehension, tried to back out of the room. The principle grabbed his arm. "Whatever am I going to do with you, Heidi?" he asked. Harry didn't like the strange glint in his eye. The principle tugged. Harry gave a little shriek and completely lost his balance, falling across Mr Frostrup's lap. He felt his legs waving helplessly, his dainty high-heels swishing through the air. He was bent double, his ass forced high up into the air. He could feel his tiny skirt falling back, exposing it completely. "You're a bad girl, Heidi!" Mr Frostrup shouted as his hand came arcing down. Harry squealed at the sudden pain, feeling his bare cheeks jiggling from the impact. "A very bad girl!" Harry squealed again, an aching handprint across his buttocks. "What are you?" Harry shrieked as his spanking grew more intense. "What are you?" "I'm a bad girl!" Harry finally whimpered, hoping it would lessen his pain. "You're a naughty little bimbo slut!" "I'm a naughty little bimbo slut!" Harry wailed, sobbing. "Will you be a good girl?" "I'll be a good girl!" he whined. Harry struggled to his feet as he was released, sniffing and madly rubbing at his aching behind. He turned and tried to run from the room, but his high-heels tripped him up and he fell forward across the principal's desk. "Ooh! You are a naughty little girl, aren't you?" the principal gloated, coming up behind him. Whimpering, Harry tried to stand back up. He heard something fall to the floor, then two big hands grasped him around his waist, then... Harry shrieked, his eyes bulging, his painted lips pressed into a big red 'O'. A cock was being forced up his ass, and... it felt... good. He moaned in pleasure, his face contorted, and tried to angle himself perfectly to receive it. He felt his aching cheeks balloon around the principle's cock. He felt his waist shrinking in its hard grip. He brushed his lengthening blonde hair from his increasingly sexy face as he squealed in joy at being fucked hard from behind. His chest began to lift slightly from the table as the big, lacy cups of his bra began to fill, then to overflow. Oblivious to everything, Harry pushed back his head and screamed in delight as a big, yummy man came hard, deep in his ass. The door to the principal's office opened and Heidi Boytoy sexily wiggled her way into the corridor. She looked very happy, despite the way that she was gingerly rubbing her aching backside. No one paid her any attention - it was a very common sight. Well, actually, one person paid great attention... Bill Kallis was doubled over laughing. The girl looked over at him, her cascading blonde hair spilling across her sexy little kitten face. She sized him up lustfully, licking her big cock-sucking lips, her hands absently caressing the incredible soft curves spilling from her almost nonexistent uniform. She started slowly moving towards him, but was distracted by another boy that walked closer past her. She spun on him, pouting and cooing hungrily. "What's the matter, slut? Horny again so soon?" the boy jeered. Heidi pressed herself against him, straining up on her little tippy- toes to try to reach his sneering lips. He finally smiled and let her swollen red lips connect with his. She growled like a ravenous thing as she squeezed his tongue in her mouth. Bill watched, still shaking with mirth, as their kiss progressed. Soon she was whimpering with desire, kneading her mountainous breasts against his chest. He pressed her back hard against a wall, she moaned and jumped up, wrapping her long legs around his waist as she energetically rubbed herself against him. His hand wandered back under her tiny little skirt and squeezed at her bare ass. Heidi giggled and forced his other hand into her tight little crop- top... Bill left them together in the corridor. They looked like they could use some alone time. Despite his previous experience, he was impressed by the paper's effect. And the little scene that he had just witnessed in the hall had put him in mind of his plan for the last one. He walked down to the empty locker room where the paper was sitting in his bag. He smiled to himself as he pulled it out and stared at it. So much power in his hands. The power to do anything. Pulling out a pen, he began to write down the words that he had decided on last night: 'BILL KALLIS is IRRESISTABLE' The ache in his pants made him hope that this one would take effect fast. Perhaps it would - it surely required less major changes than his previous efforts. The second that his pen left the paper it exploded into a cloud of green flame. He pulled his hand away, glad to see that it was unhurt. None of the others had done THAT... He briefly worried that it might be a dud, but then he suddenly remembered the busker's warning about using several papers in quick succession. What was it that she said would happen? But he had used the last one almost an hour ago - that was enough time, surely? The door swung open behind him. Still lost in his vague concerns, he absently turned to see who had come in. His fears instantly evaporated. Standing in the open doorway was Michelle Ruxton, the star cheerleader. She was dressed only in her skimpy underwear and was looking straight at him with the most intense look of desire that he had ever seen. As Michelle began to sway her way towards him, more girls began appearing behind her. They were obviously coming from the girl's locker room next door. In various states of undress, the girls wandered into the room, an almost trance-like expression of lust frozen on their gorgeous faces. Some of them must have been mid-way through a shower - they swayed forward, completely naked and dripping wet, remnants of shampoo in their hair. Bill chuckled as the girls got close, forming a circle around him and desperately pressing forwards. He laughed in their faces as they grabbed at him, helplessly worshipping him with their every stare and breathless moan. He finally reached over and pulled Michelle's straining bra from her overdeveloped chest, smiling at how she whimpered at his slightest touch. He pulled her to him, grabbing at her immense rack. She moaned in total ecstasy as he kissed her, pressing her body hard against him. Bill smiled as much as his intense make-out session would allow. This is how life should be: and how it would be from now on. He felt her big nipples swell even further as he squeezed them between two fingers. He would have whatever girl he wanted; if he saw her, he could have her. The desperate girls pressed in, gasping and wailing with desire. He could feel their little hands straining to touch him, and could hear their owner's shrieks of pleasure when they did. He would have two (at least!) of the prettiest girls in the city (no! In the world!) in his big bed every night, and they would beg to be allowed to degrade themselves in anyway that they could. He sighed as his mind crowded with delicious fantasies. ...But, wait... Did that feel right? He pulled his mind back to his current, undeniably pleasant circumstances. Michelle's breasts suddenly felt somehow wrong. And what was that prickle that he was feeling from her upper lip? He struggled and eventually managed to pull back from the girl's kiss. Looking up at her (up? When did she get so tall?), he saw stubble sprouting from her pretty chin. He gasped and looked down at the hard furry flesh that his hands were now wrapped around. "Got a problem, bitch?" Michelle boomed down at him in her deepening voice. Bill looked madly away from the cheerleader's increasingly rugged face to the other girls in the room. Each one was already nearly a full head taller than him. Their breasts were shrivelling on their chests and thick, dark hair was growing in their place. But one thing was unchanged: their manly faces still shone with lust for him. Bill squeaked in horror and tried to break free from Michelle's suddenly muscular grip around his waist. He pushed vainly against her rock-hard barrel chest, gazing pleadingly up at her big handsome face. She just laughed down at him. "Oh, I think it's my turn!" a baritone voice chuckled behind Bill. Arms like tree-trunks tore him from Michelle's clutch. He felt himself being playfully pulled by the back of his shorts and struggled to keep his balance. He collided with a chest as wide and hard as a brick wall, he could feel the muscles rippling beneath it with his cheeks. He finally managed to look up, gasping for air. A huge angular face leered down at him. "Stick with me, baby," it laughed, "I get little sluts like you singing my name in no time." Bill gasped as he was lifted from the floor, his feet wiggling helplessly beneath him. The enormous boy grinned lecherously at his expression and leaned forward to kiss him. Bill made a stifled shriek as he felt an immense writhing tongue being forced down his throat. He tried to struggle, but was held in an iron grip. He heard hoots and catcalls coming from all around him. A big hand reached down and squeezed his ass. Bill's eyes bulged as he felt his buttocks expand in this tight grasp, his shorts splitting and shrinking until they left his ass completely bare. He thrashed and tried to cover his bouncing exposed cheeks with a hand, but was still held immobile as his captor enthusiastically slathered in his mouth. He heard the riotous mirth as countless other hands reached down and pinched and squeezed his pink flesh. The hand wandered up to his chest and squeezed at his tiny little hairy bosoms. The hair vanished and his breasts swelled monstrously in the probing hands. Bill gaped. He could feel hands fingering his lengthening hair, caressing his blossoming figure, rubbing their way up his long, hairless legs to the place where they met... Bill gaped as there was a sudden, fiery explosion between his thighs. He felt himself relaxing as a pleasant, tingling moisture spread across his tight little panties. Suddenly it all felt good. The squeezing, the poking, the fingering... He began kissing back with fierce vigour, getting hornier by the minute, loving all of the little jeers and chuckled remarks as he began rubbing himself against his big yummy boy. And then the kissing stopped. Bill whimpered as he was pulled from those sneering stubble- encircled lips. The big face sniggered down at him as the arm released its grip on his waist. He fell to the floor, landing on his knees. He looked up pleadingly at all of the huge, hot boys laughing down at him, completely oblivious to the tiny microskirt and little crop- top that he was now wearing. "Hey, slut!" one of the boys circled around him called out. "How do you like this?" Bill gaped as a pair of boxers were lowered to reveal... He squealed and tried wiggling, still on his knees, towards the impossibly huge, erect member now thrusting out at him. The boys chortled in hysterics. "What a little whore!" "Make her beg!" Bill, mouth open, reached for the vast cock swaying, teasingly, just before him. A hand pressed to his forehead, keeping him just out of reach. Bill whimpered in mad desperation, struggling vainly forward. "Hey! Bimbo!" a voice called from behind him. All the boys began lowering their boxers to reveal an army of cocks, each bigger than any average man's forearm. Bill squealed in delight. The hand fell from his forehead and he plunged his drooling mouth over the head of the nearest, already dripping, cock. Though he had to strain to fit it in his mouth, he moaned in pure ecstasy as he forced it down his eager little throat. The laughs of the crowd just somehow turned him on even more as he sucked at it madly. Once one had exploded in his mouth he moved joyously to the next - delicious, sticky goodness streaming from his mouth faster than he could swallow it. He screamed his pleasure as he made the big boys come right in his face, down his throat, across his big titties... Sucking on cock after cock after big juicy cock, he lost all sense of time in his love for boys, boyparts, and, most of all, yummy, sticky, gooey boyjuice. He tried giggling with a cock down his throat, and thrust his big ass out, letting them fuck him hard from behind as he went on slurping. Why couldn't he be alone with the football team more often? The door to the boy's locker room opened and Bambi Boytoy sexily wiggled her way into the corridor. She looked very happy, despite the way that she was almost glistening with drying cum. No one paid her any attention - it was a very common sight. Well, actually, one person paid great attention... Licking her lips and softly cooing her satisfaction, Bambi turned and saw her twin sister, Heidi, mincing prettily towards her. "Mmm..." Heidi purred, "you smell like fun..." Bambi giggled. "Ooh! So do you..." The two twins, dressed in identical little sexy nothings, pressed themselves tightly together. They murmured and giggled their delight as they playfully licked at one another, their pretty little heads straying down one another's necks and into their cleavages as they enjoyed the yummyness still clinging to each other's skin. Finally, softly moaning, they kissed, each taking turns sucking on the other's tongue, loving the delicious aftertaste of cock that remained there. "Hey! You little skanks!" The two girls gasped as they woke from their orgasmic reverie. Still clinging to each other, they pulled their lips apart and gazed lustfully down the hall to the group of boys gaping there. Without a word they broke apart and began to wiggle their bare asses towards them, purring sexily. Though they had been through this countless times before, the boys could still only stare in numb disbelief as the Boytoys, the richest, skankiest, most totally irresistible girls in the school - no, in the whole wide world - came teetering hungrily towards them. They were in for a good night.

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