Greta Does Brian, Cheri Does Stevie, and Kimmy in the Laundry Basket

[clarise]

Here is what happens after Kimberly Chooses Rape. This story contains more explicit sex than the others. If you're into that.

But if you want to follow this little story all the way from the beginning, start at Kimmy and Greta, Freshman Cheerleaders.

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Greta Does Brian, Cheri Does Stevie,
and Kimmy in the Laundry Basket
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_____Kimberly Danforth had been curled in the filthy laundry basket, with a burlap bag over her head, for the past hour. Coach Bruno had handcuffed her arms tightly behind her back. She could no longer feel her hands. For almost the entire hour, she had wished that someone would come back and save her, yet she had dreaded the same occurrence, because she had been left completely helpless. Coach Bruno had warned her to keep her mouth shut, or else the school janitors might come to investigate, and find her there. They might abduct her themselves. Terror had exhausted Kimberly as effectively as the horrible method of concealment.
_____Someone must have turned the lights on, because the interior of the black burlap bag suddenly illuminated with the pattern of the dense weave, still black to her eyes, yet blindingly so. Now all the guys were coming back in. There sure were a lot of them— the whole team, in fact. At first she thanked God for all the commotion, having been swept up with the false reassurance that she would be relatively safe from Coach Bruno with so many witnesses. With her second impression, her heart sank, because she realized that the boys were hollering and cheering, obviously flush with victory, and with considerable trepidation she recalled the reason why she had been brought here in the first place. She heard them stripping down. Helmets and pads clattered upon the tile floor. Then the first indignity commenced, as players tossed dirty jerseys, pants, socks, and jock straps into the laundry basket.
_____The second indignity was worse. She also heard their voices.
_____The voices wanted Greta. Expected Greta. Felt they deserved Greta. Yet it got worse, progressively worse, and Kimberly heard it all.
_____“Westford’s a doll. The other one, that skank, she’s just a Dogface.”
_____“Westford’s flat as a board. At least Dogface has tits.”
_____“No diff. Loser.”
_____“They wouldn’t give us Dogface. That just wouldn’t be right.”
_____“I’ll spit on it, if they do. I’ll hawk a lunger on it.”
_____“Maybe they’ll stick a bag over its head.”
_____Kimberly wept silently within the bag. She wanted them to stop mocking her, wanted to stop hearing them, but she could not raise sufficient courage to leap from the laundry basket and scream for help. Their speculation as to whether they would be stuck with her, and the use of the hideous nickname, terrified her into silence. Would the teasing stop, if she made her presence known, or would it intensify a thousand-fold? She could not bear to find out.
_____Soon they would take her to the party. They would put her on her back and use her continuously. She wondered, without much hope, if they would leave the burlap bag on her head. She wondered if it could be possible to be gangbanged for eight hours, from three o’clock in the afternoon to eleven o’clock at night, without ever having the awful bag pulled from her head. Greta had warned her that she would be used repeatedly by an endless succession of men, and that they would rip her up in the process, and Kimberly had rashly consigned herself to that fate, before Coach Bruno had sprung the handcuffs on her. But she had not counted on the burlap bag over her head, and when he had put it on, it had been the worst form of torture, worse than being shackled to the shower head, worse than being naked, worse than being groped and beaten. Worse even than his use of the cruel nickname.
_____Yet now she understood that Coach Bruno, in his own way, had granted her a mercy with that bag. Greta had not warned her about the psychological cruelty that men would bring to bear, just to amplify the horror of the physical. Greta Westford had been gangbanged herself, perhaps many times. Yes, Greta had been abused physically, but being the adorably gorgeous, sexy little dolly that she was, she had never known this shame, had never experienced the deeply cutting pain of male derision. Now Kimberly understood the profound cruelty inherent in her predicament, and the nasty old adage came to mind, ‘put a bag over their heads, and they’re all the same.’ She had consented to this reckless, farcical venture, foolhardy as it now seemed in hindsight, for acceptance. And now, she knew that she would never survive it, if the bag came off or if she made so much as a peep.
_____Debate raged all around her, as to which freshman would staff the victory party, and now the coaches were drawn in, but they were not telling. Kimberly realized, to her utter despair, that they must have been intentionally withholding the truth, because they had only been able to toss a consolation prize— a meager scrap— at the victorious boys. They had promised the boys Goldilocks, and had managed to deliver much, much less. The coaches obviously seemed content to let the boys wonder, for the present.
_____Coach Bruno affably reassured the players, “Relax, lads. You think I’d leave you with Dogface Danforth? I promised you a victory party, not a wake.”
_____Laughter gave way to speculation.
_____“Maybe they lined up Greta’s friend from JV. The brunette with the freckles on her nose.”
_____“Stephanie.”
_____“Yeah, that’s her, Stephie. She’s a partygirl, too, I hear. She’s as hot as Greta.”
_____“Not even close,” someone else protested.
_____“Coach, who’d you line up, really? You got Stephie, right?”
_____“No. Not Stephanie. Nor the other one, Lani. Never even asked ‘em.”
_____“Well they couldn’t have gotten Westford. I heard she wouldn’t do it.”
_____“What? She’s too good for us?”
_____“Nah, she has a date tonight. Hey, Donner! Brian Donner! I hear you’re the lucky boy who gets Westford. That true?”
_____Kimberly heard Brian Donner yell out, “I guess I’ll find out on the bus. Never did get a straight answer out of her.”
_____Someone speculated, “So the coaches could have lined up Westford after all.”
_____Kimberly heard Greta’s beautiful sophomore brother, Casimir, call out from somewhere in the vicinity of the shower stalls, “You dumb shits, leave my sister out of this. And leave me out of this, too. I’m here for football. Not this twisted crap. I’m outta here.”
_____“Yeah, yeah,” someone said. “You’re married, aren’t you, Caz?”
_____Casimir Westford, the only decent boy on the entire team, was leaving. He was actually leaving. She wanted to scream for his help at that moment, but she had already reneged on Thursday, after having promised to spread for Roy, and she had told herself that she would do this, and she did not want the nicknames to start again, so she could not summon the courage to call out to him.
_____Kimberly heard Brian Donner call out in her stead, “Hey, C-Man, got any messages for me to pass on to your sister?”
_____Suddenly it became very quiet, and Kimberly heard a heavily laden dufflebag hit the tile floor with a thud.
_____“Oh, oh,” someone nearby muttered.
_____Coach Bruno warned, “I don’t want any trouble from you, Westford.”
_____“Yeah. Looks like you’ve got plenty.”
_____“Just walk away.”
_____But Casimir Westford did not walk away.
_____Kimberly heard Brian Donner say, “Come on, Caz. Chill. I was just fooling.”
_____There was not another sound. Casimir did not threaten. He did not seem the type to make idle threats. The other boys, and the coaches, must have had the same impression. The next voice was Bruno, again warning Casimir to back off.
_____Casimir apparently complied. He said, “Coach, I’ll skip the bus. I have my own ride.”
_____Someone said, “We saw your girlfriend in the stands.”
_____“Smokin’ hot, C-Man,” someone else said.
_____Casimir apparently ignored them, because Kimberly heard him say, “My sister is not an office accessory. Got that?”
_____“A what?” Brian Donner asked, nonplussed.
_____“You heard.”
_____Then Kimberly heard the dufflebag being picked up off the floor, followed by receding footsteps. Come back, she wanted to scream, please come back and save me!
_____Brian muttered, “Pain in the ass cherry.”
_____Steve Ryan said, “Dude, C-Man might only be a sophomore, but he is no cherry, with that goddess steady girlfriend of his. And you’d better watch yourself with his sister, or he’ll rip your head off and shove it up your ass.”
_____The crowd in the vicinity of the laundry basket gradually dispersed.
_____Steve Ryan smacked Roy on the shoulder, and together they left the shower stall. They huddled alone out at the lockers, toweling off.
_____Steve said, “No way in hell did they get Goldilocks.”
_____Roy asked, “Is Goldi really going with Cheri’s kid brother tonight?”
_____“Yeah. Cheri and I are supposed to drive them to the party. If Goldi doesn’t ditch him. Wouldn’t put it past her. She’s kind of crazy.”
_____“You got that right.”
_____“Best I’ve ever had, though,” Steve added.
_____“Yeah,” agreed Roy. “Still, we gotta keep our mouths shut about Thursday. Greta Westford’s trouble.”
_____“How so?”
_____“Don’t know. Just a feeling in my gut. She’s poison.”
_____“Huh. So, Roy. What do you think? Did Bruno line up Dogface after all?”
_____Roy grinned, all teeth, and said, “I for one wouldn’t mind if they did. Dogface is gonna pay for ditching me on Thursday. And you better not have a problem with that.”
_____Steve put up his hands and said, “Do what you have to do.”
_____The din within the shower abated, and footsteps receded from the lockers, until Kimberly realized, to her further shame, that they had all left and had abandoned her in the laundry basket. Yet the indignities kept piling up. Someone returned to shut off the lights and left her in the dark. Kimberly lay handcuffed in a laundry basket, naked and vulnerable, and the men couldn’t even be bothered to remember that they had left her there! Kimberly cried in the basket, beneath mounds of sweaty, muddy uniforms, until someone returned and dug into the pile of clothes.
_____“Keep it down, Dogface. Christ. People might start to think you didn’t ask for this.”
_____The short, burly assistant coach. Coach Mayer.
_____Harsh flourescent lights abruptly assaulted her eyes through the burlap shroud. Before she could react, Coach Mayer reached down with a set of keys and removed the handcuffs. Then he dumped the soiled, sweaty laundry back over her body and said, “No need for restraints, right, Dogface? Bruno says you’re a volunteer. Go ahead and take that bag off your head if you want. Scream to high heaven, for all we care. But then the boys will know who they’re screwing, won’t they?” He chuckled with cruel humor and said, “Your choice.”
_____Then she felt herself being rolled down the tiles. A door opened, and she was pushed through. The sound of the wheels reverberated, as though down a long hard corridor, and then, through yet another door, and the layers of soiled cloth were suddenly illuminated, backlit by bright sunlight. A minute later, Several other boys, or men, leant a hand and heaved the laundry basket, containing Dogface Danforth, up into the bus.
_____Since halftime, Greta had been wearing her tasseled vest and skirt over full length leggings and a long sleeved top. She had bundled herself up to conceal the bruises and sores from her mother and father, who had supposedly come to watch her performance as well as Cazzie’s. Yet Mom had disappeared at the halftime show, and the token nod to modesty had been for nothing. Now Goldi stripped down to her skin and dressed for Brian Donner. She retrieved from the bottom of her duffle bag one of the string thongs that she had worn to the early try-outs. She put it on. Then she found the crop-top that she had recently improvised, the one that draped right over her bare torso and did not quite cover the undersides of her breasts. Over the thong and crop-top, she put on the Pocohontas skirt and vest. She slipped the beaded leather belt through the loops in the waist of her skirt and cinched it tightly. She pulled the thong up on her hips to wedge the silky bit of nothing deep into her crotch.
_____Greta’s parents intercepted her as she approached the door of the bus that would take her back to Winchester. Dad put his arms out, and she gave him a crushing hug.
_____“That halftime show activated my fear of heights. You were fantastic, Baby-G. “
_____“Thanks, Daddy.”
_____She broke away, and she caught his eyes roving across her arms and torso, assessing her bruises with consternation. His eyes flicked up to hers, and he wore his poker face again. She often wondered how much Dad really suspected about her recklessly nymphomaniacal alter ego, Goldilocks. As for Dad’s suspicions with respect to her dark side, her third personality, Goldi Locksley, well, she did not want to think about that.
_____Mom said, “We’re going straight back ourselves. You don’t have to ride the bus. The the ride home will give us some quality time.”
_____Greta tore her eyes away from Dad and remarked to her mother, “I did not see you at the halftime show.”
_____Mom flustered and stammered, “I’d have thought you would have been busy just trying not to be dropped or trampled.”
_____“Silly me.”
_____“Honey, I tried to watch. But I just couldn’t bear it.”
_____“Mmm. Me, neither. I am riding the bus.”
_____“Greta”—
_____“I am riding with the team. And going straight to the party at Faith Ryan’s house with Brian Donner. His sister will give me a ride home. Or if the party runs too late I will find another way home.”
_____“What does that mean?”
_____“I will steal another bike. The Ryans have a whole bunch of them.”
_____“Greta, please listen”—
_____“Mom, I have to go. If you want to talk, drop by the party. I have already told you, ‘rents are invited. The Ryans really are very nice. Even if they are not your sort of people. Bye.” Greta retreated into the bus.
_____Max and Anne glared at each other.
_____“Good job,” said Max.
_____“Don’t you judge me, Maxwell. Just don’t.”
_____He muttered, “When would I ever do that?”
_____Goldi boarded the bus, walked down the aisle, ignored the big thumbs-up from Cheri, who sat with Steve Ryan, and stopped at Brian’s seat. She stood expectantly until she caught his attention. His eyes bugged and roved from her saddle shoes, up her legs, her slender waist, to the soft tanned undersides of her pert little breasts. His eyes stopped right there and lingered. He picked up his duffle bag, slid into the seat that it had occupied, adjacent to the aisle, and patted the seat at the window.
_____Goldi happily stepped over his knees to sit down. She brightly smiled and said, “Thanks for letting me sit with you, Brian.”
_____He appraised her thoughtfully and liked what he saw. Greta Westford had to be just about the prettiest girl he had ever seen, every bit as cute as Cheri and three years younger, just starting to develop curves. She looked like a living doll, and he wanted her so badly that he thought he might be driven mad with desire. On top of her beauty, and his desire, were layered seemingly endless rumors about her purported exploits.
_____She smoothly lied, “I watched you for the whole game. That pass you caught in the third quarter, that was awesome.”
_____“Yeah. Didn’t score, though,” he moped, “not like C-Man. Two touchdowns. Shit.”
_____Goldi didn’t skip a beat. “My bro got lucky both times. Sophomores almost never get touchdowns, the girls all said. But you got open lots of times, and made great catches, because you’re so strong and fast.”
_____He shrugged and said, “I watched you the whole game, too. But I guess everyone else did, too.”
_____Goldi ignored the last part, purposefully forced herself to blush, and said, “What were you looking at me for?”
_____“Because you’re the hottest girl on the cheer squad, that’s why.”
_____She put her hands on her bare knees, pushed out her chest, and said, “Well you were the best on the field, in my book. So, what is this hot girl gonna do for the game MVP?”
_____He gaped moronically. He couldn’t take his eyes off the luscious little cupcakes that poked beneath Greta Westford’s top, and Goldilocks did not mind in the least. He asked her proud little breasts, “What are my options?”
_____She smiled and hopped up onto his lap. She arched her back, thrust her breasts up at him, and said, “Whatever you want.”
_____He said, “Let’s start with a victory kiss.”
_____She closed her eyes and parted her lips as his mouth came down and latched onto hers. Greta tried to lose herself in the kiss, and to subsume herself to Goldi, but the distractions made it so hard. Just eight rows behind her, a laundry basket occupied the aisle. Given the way Mayer guarded it, and the way Klein taunted it, and the way Bruno dropped not-so-subtle hints to all the players, it was easy to surmise that the basket held more than dirty laundry. Goldi tried to imagine herself buried under the pile of uniforms and being driven to the gangbang that awaited. The thought of being gagged and groped by the entire football team made Goldi woozy, and brought on strangely pleasant recollections of the carefully selected and ordered remnants of memories from her recent ordeal in Thayer Hall, at the mercy of thirty Fighting Crimson. Strange, Greta mused, the power of the mind to reduce the most base atrocity to vaguely warm nostalgia. Then again, maybe it was just Brian Donner’s kiss, making her wet. The kiss seemed to go on forever.
_____Goldi whispered, “You should have taken your cup off.”
_____He grinned like a doofy jock and said, “I did.”
_____She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and confided, “I had a feeling you would be a tasty treat. You feel huge.”
_____He shrugged and continued to kiss her. One big paw wrapped all the way around her torso and fondled a breast, and another hand explored under her tasseled skirt. The silver thong bared her lean bottom, and she squirmed on his sweaty hands.
_____“You sure do feel excited,” she mumbled.
_____He replied, “Can’t believe you’re riding with me. Had to fight off the whole team in the locker room. Your pain in the ass brother especially.”
_____“Oh, yeah? Did the dweeb defend my honor?”
_____Brian shrugged and said, “Sure, he tried. ‘Til I kicked the shit out of him and made him get his own ride.”
_____She grinned and thought to herself that Casimir would have unscrewed Brian Donner’s head, if it had ever come to that.
_____One might have reasonably supposed that Brian and Greta were playing a risky game on the bus, fondling and exploring each other on the open seat, but no one paid any attention to them. Most of the cheerleaders had paired off with football players.
_____The boys who had not joined up with cheerleaders congregated at the back of the bus and openly speculated on the identity of the prize buried in the laundry basket. They had surmised long ago that Greta Westford did not await, yet they could not bring themselves to believe that they would be stuck with Dogface.
_____Deep within the laundery basket, poor Kimberly had to listen to every word.
_____Roy announced, “I sure as hell hope Dogface is the prize. And if she is, I’m gonna be the one to break her in.”
_____“Oh no you don’t, son,” said Coach Bruno. “You’ll get your chance, like everyone else, but the top dog goes first. Rank has its privileges.”
_____A debate ensued between the boys and the assistant coaches, over whether it might not be more equitable all around if they arranged a drawing.
_____“Do whatever you want to do, later,” Coach Bruno said, giving the side of the laundry basket a none-too-gentle pat, “but I promised this dumb twat that I’d be the first to open her hole. Goddamn it, she gets my load first, and that’s that.”
_____The boys insisted on being told, once and for all, whether or not Dogface Danforth awaited at the bottom of the laundry hamper. Many of them swore that they would rather boycott the party than settle for Dogface.
_____Kimberly curled into a catatonic ball, tried not to breathe, tried not to see herself, tried not to hear that awful name. On the bus ride back to Winchester, as yet still a virgin, Kimberly Danforth irrevocably lost her mind.
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_____Brian glanced back down the aisle at the scrum of chanting, cheering boys and said, “The guys are really gonna be pissed if that’s Dogface.”
_____Goldilocks fretted on seething Greta’s behalf and said, “I do wish you wouldn’t call her that.”
_____“Why not?”
_____“She really is very nice.”
_____“Whatever.” He looked back once again, almost wistfully, and confided, “Cheri says that according to tradition, we’re all supposed to do her at the party tonight. But I wouldn’t trade for the world.”
_____Goldi kissed him and said, “That is very sweet, Brian, but I am immune to jealously. If all the guys are supposed to do her, you should join in.”
_____“So they really do have Dogface in that laundry basket?”
_____“Damned if I know,” said Goldi.
_____“At first they thought it was you, but now they all know you’re here with me. So now most of them think it’s your JV friend, Stephanie.”
_____Goldi broke into giggles and mused, “Stephie wouldn’t mind that at all. Seriously, though, this party tonight would be a rough gig for anyone. Around a hundred pokes, into one girl? In one night? What if that happened to me?”
_____He smirked and said, “You’d be able to handle it. My sister, Cheri? She got ganged by a team in her freshman year. She survived. Mom says it only improved her. Faith Ryan, too. Same season. Though she didn’t take it as well. Faith’s been kind of weird ever since. I bet you’d handle it, though.”
_____She frowned and asked, “It sounds like the idea of it turns you on.”
_____“Sure,” Brian admitted, without a trace of shame. “The idea sure is hot. You getting it from the whole football team, and the harder the better.”
_____Greta peeked out from behind Goldi’s defenses to ask, “So if Kimmy can’t hack it and I have to jump in tonight, you won’t mind?”
_____“Heh, why would I care? I think it’d be cool, you know, hanging out with the guys out in the backyard, tossing a ball around or whatever, knowing you’re getting pounded upstairs.”
_____Goldilocks took a deep breath, sighed, and said, “Well I’ll do it, if you want me to. All you had to do was ask. I’ll volunteer right now.”
_____He scoffed, “What, like you really would?”‘
_____“Sure. The team can pigpile me and bash me to pulp, for all I care.”
_____He stammered, “Wow. I mean, that’s— I mean— just, wow.”
_____Goldi’s eyes bugged. “What? Now you don’t want me to do it?”
_____“I don’t know. It’s cool thinking about you doing it. But, like, really doing it? Spreading for fifty or so dicks? I mean, that’s like so twisted.”
_____There was a long moment while Greta wrestled with the notion of standing up and just walking out on the moron. Luckily, Goldi took over. “Well, duh, you silly virgin. I mean, I’m stuck here with you, so I told Bruno no, I couldn’t pull his train. But you just said you want me to do it after all, and now I feel kind of left out of all the fun.”
_____Brian’s astonishment dissipated, and now he looked very irate. He said, “Okay, like, hold on. You, like, just called me a virgin.”
_____“Yeah? So what? You asked for it.”
_____“I did? And— wait— how do you know?”
_____“It is obvious. Not that I mind. I think it is sweet,” she said with an uncharacteristic blush.
_____“How’s it obvious?” he asked, somewhere between irate and enraged.
_____“Because you are being a dweeb,” Goldi told him, “and I mean that in a good way. I mean, listen to yourself. First you want to see me get gangbanged, and then you get pissed when I say okay, which I am only doing to please you. It is weird. It is dweebish. No offense.”
_____He pouted.
_____“You are mad.”
_____“No I’m not,” he said, and pouted some more.
_____She kissed him.
_____He pulled away and said, “You called me dweebish.”
_____“Yeah, well you are.”
_____“Like, I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” he complained.
_____“Then what are you upset about?” she asked, reasonably enough.
_____“You called me a virgin, too.”
_____“You are, aren’t you?”
_____“Yeah, but still.”
_____She gently said, “I promise I won’t join in on the gangbang, if you don’t really want me to.”
_____He flustered and gabbed, “I only said it was cool to think about, not that, like, I wanted you to do it. I mean, like, all girls fantasize about getting raped, but that doesn’t mean they really want it to happen to them.”
_____Goldi had to fight back the laughter. She took his hands and said, “No, dweeb, no. All girls don’t fantasize about rape. All boys fantasize that they do. There is a big difference.”
_____“I thought they did.”
_____“You are a boy. It is your job to be a dweeb. Brian, women do not fantasize about rape. They fantasize about love. Inevitably that becomes a problem, because women are far more likely to be raped at least once in their lives than to be loved.”
_____He blinked and said, “That’s fucked up.”
_____“You are not telling me the news.”
_____“Okay. Like, you have to tell me. Like, what is a dweeb?”
_____“Varies according to context.”
_____“What?”
_____Greta, Goldilocks, and Goldi Locksley sighed simultaneously. They explained, “When my brother is a dweeb, he is being a beloved yet infuriating goof. When my best buds are dweebs, I have an uncontrollable urge to snatch them up and cuddle. As for the rest of the dweebs, I want to be there when the light leaves their eyes.”
_____His jaw fell open. Then he said, “You’re fucking weird.”
_____“I know, dweeb, I know.”
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_____Upon returning to the high school, Brian and Goldi transferred from the bus to the back seat of Cheri’s Mini Cooper. Steve Ryan rode in front with Cheri and gaped at Goldi in such a way as to necessitate that she remind him, with baleful stares, to keep his mouth shut about Thursday.
_____Steve could not restrain himself from comment about Kimberly’s predicament, however. “Like, can you believe most of the guys don’t know that’s Dogface in the laundry hamper?”
_____ “Wishful thinking,” Cheri absently remarked. “They all know it, but they don’t want to believe it.”
_____Greta pulled her mouth away from Brian’s to say, “I wish you guys wouldn’t call her that.”
_____“What? Dogface Danforth? That’s her name.”
_____“No, it is not.”
_____Cheri asked, reasonably enough, “What do you care anyway, Goldi? What’s she to you?”
_____“She is nice. No one gives her a chance.”
_____Steve blurted, “Roy gave her a chance”—
_____But Goldi stopped him by smacking him in the back of the head.
_____Cheri eyed them suspiciously, as Steve whirled around to confront Greta. Brian defused the confrontation by pulling Goldi into another kiss.
_____Cheri glanced over the seat and chuckled at Goldi’s look of disarray, her breasts showing beneath the hiked up crop-top, her skirt askew and revealing half her crotch. “Looks like you two had fun on the bus,” she said with a wink. “I hope you like my brother.”
_____“I sure do.” Goldi replied.
_____“Is he everything I said he was?”
_____“I think so, and I sure am going to find out.”
_____Cheri grinned and praised, “That’s my girl.” Then she added the stern warning, “You had better be good to him.”
_____Goldi replied in a sing-song voice, “I will, I promise!” and rolled her eyes at Brian. “She is protective isn’t, she?”
_____Brian shrugged and said, “Typical big sister.”
_____Goldi giggled and planted a dozen kisses on his chest. “Okay, Mr. MVP, where shall we begin?”
_____Brian hopefully suggested, “Maybe you could give me another hand job.”
_____Steve Ryan blurted, “Another? When did you get the first one?”
_____Now Cheri smacked Steve’s head. “Shut up and mind your business.”
_____“I didn’t think they were that busy on the bus.”
_____“I said mind your business.”
_____Goldi grinned at her new boyfriend and scrunched up her nose, saying, “Oh, I think we can do much better than a hand job. Watch what I can do!” She raised her ankles to the roof of the Mini Cooper and peeled her thong panties up and off, before Brian’s boggling eyes. He rushed to follow suit, albeit less gracefully. She lay back on the cramped compartment’s tiny seat between Brian’s bent knees, pushed her narrow pelvis up onto his lap with her thighs curled right up over her torso, and pushed her sopped crotch up and down his erection.
_____He groaned in bliss. To the boy, Goldi’s ministrations felt just about as good as anything he had ever experienced in his entire life. “Ohhhh, God!”
_____Feisty little Goldi craftily lied, “My Momma taught me this. It is a nice way to clean a boy’s pipes without getting poked and knocked up and stuff. Do you like it?”
_____Brian Donner, beside himself, could not form words.
_____At some point the canary yellow Mini Cooper had parked, presumably at the Ryan residence. Cheri suckled Steve Ryan in the front seat, while Goldilocks worked her tingling nooks and crannies up and down against Brian and stroked with her little hands to make it nice and tight for him.
_____Brian groaned, “I— I can’t”—
_____“It is okay,” Goldi cooed, “let it all out. Let it happen, Brian.” She so thoroughly lost herself in the fantasy of subjugating herself to Cheri’s virginal brother that the ever-present abdominal burn receded somewhat, to the point where she could almost believe that her own climactic release might be imminent. The strain, as she drew closer, would dampen the impulse, as it always did. If Jessica Turner had been watching, she might have called Greta’s quest for climax asymptotic; the closer she came to release, the more impossible it became to achieve.
_____“But I want to get it into you”—
_____“Don’t worry, silly, you will.”
_____To Goldi’s delight and relief, Brian seemed to freeze in mid-convulsion, and then he knocked himself right off his hinges. It took the happy couple a few minutes to come down to reality and realize that Cheri and Steve had been watching them. Cheri gazed down at Brian’s satisfied grin and the drenched girl atop him and serenely remarked, “Well don’t they make a sweet pair.”
_____Steve agreed, “Yeah, but it looks like they’re way ahead of us.”
_____Cheri rolled her eyes and snapped, “You can wait.”
_____Brian watched Goldi lick semen off her fingers and sighed, “You sure are twisted.”
_____Goldi just giggled, strained right over Brian’s head, rubbing her titties against his forehead, and licked a glob of salty effluvia off the Mini Cooper’s door panel.
_____Brian said, “You like the taste of my splooge, don’t you?”
_____Goldi replied, “Uh, huh. Goody-goody-gum-drops.”
_____Brian watched her lick up another glob that she’d scooped from her forehead, and he said, “I got a whole bunch in your babyhole.”
_____“That is okay; it didn’t go in far. It is running out, mostly.”
_____In the front seat Steve said, “Hey, Goldilocks, don’t make a puddle on the seat.”
_____Cheri slapped Steve and told him to keep his eyes front.
_____Steve protested, “Leather uphostery, cherrypie.”
_____“Who cares? Shut up about the car, already. And besides, it’s my car.”
_____“What? So you want your car to smell like stale spew?”
_____“Maybe I do,” Cheri stubbornly insisted. Deep inside, she conceded that he had a point, not that she had any intention of admitting as much, given the circumstances. Cheri went back to sucking on Faith’s twin brother, but gave him one last warning glare, to impress upon him the precariousness of the service she presently felt inclined to render.
_____In the brief span of their bickering, Goldilocks had fully revived post-adolescent and essentially insatiable Brian. “Mmmm,” she gushed, “already set for another round?”
_____“I guess so,” he replied, with apparent ambivalence which in fact could be ascribed to distraction. He stared , cross-eyed, at the copious ooze that accumulated upon his uppermost extremity and gradually acquired the shape of a teardrop.
_____“Fascinating,” Goldilocks wryly observed. Then she distracted him further, by tilting her pelvis so as to align her dilated sex at an angle conducive to catching it.
_____The happy pair froze and held their breaths to watch.
_____The silence in the back seat captured the attention of Cheri and Steve as well.
_____Brian murmured, “It’s, like, cool... like, if it goes in, right?”
_____“It sure is,” averred the pretty Goldilocks. “I am ovulating any day now. Maybe right now.”
_____“Well, you’re gonna move, right? I mean, Christ.”
_____Goldilocks looked up at him with dreamy bedroom eyes and said, “I won’t move unless you tell me to.”
_____Brian could not bring himself to utter a word. The sperm-laden teardrop descended ponderously, and all four teens watched the distance close.
_____Cheri whispered, “What do you say, bro, you gonna let her off the hook?”
_____Brian, without looking up, said, “I wanna see it go in.”
_____Goldi looked up at him, eyes sparkling. She tilted her vagina up like a waiting suncup. Goldilocks reached down and pulled herself wide open, just as the heavy strand broke free and plummeted straight to the bottom of the well.
_____Goldilocks softly giggled and said, “Your little guys are swimming down to my womb now, Brian. Isn’t that cool?”
_____Brian looked up at his sister with an expression somewhere between incredulity and disgust. He looked back at Goldilocks, who busied herself with tickling the last pearlescent remnants over the edge of the abyss.
_____She looked up at him, closed her legs, winked, and said, “Now it’s not getting out. Your sperm has nowhere to go but straight to my egg.”
_____“You’re fricking weird.”
_____“So you have said. From the waist down, you don’t seem to mind. Would you like to put it into me?”
_____He answered by doing just that.
_____In the front seat, Steve Ryan asked his own date, “So, how about I get some of what Brian’s getting?”
_____Cheri took her mouth off Steve’s erection, glared at him, and snapped, “You’ll have to wait your turn for Goldi. Brian’s on her. And quit rubbernecking at her tits! Look at me, or I’ll stop doing this!”
_____“I meant I want to do it with you! Christ, woman!”
_____Cheri sheepishly said, “Oh. Well, uh, I don’t know, Steve, I mean we’re not really a thing anymore and having your dick inside me would be too weird.”
_____“What, like sucking me off isn’t?”
_____“This is weird enough.”
_____“Come on, mon Cheri, for old times’ sake.”
_____Cheri didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no, either. Steve persisted, and cajoled, and begged, and by degrees contrived to hit paydirt.
_____The couples in front and back rapidly attained a synchronized rhythm.
_____In front, Cheri lay with her head and shoulders mashed into the passenger seat, with her bottom hunched up over the center console. She had perched one leg over her headrest, and another on top of the dashboard, up over the steering wheel. Steve Ryan crouched over her pelvis and drove down into her drum-taut tummy from above.
_____Cheri murmured across to her brother, “This is so cool, isn’t it Brian? Two couples, rocking the hell out of my Mini Cooper at the same time.”
_____Brian put a hand up over the front passenger headrest, and Cheri slapped him with her palm. “Damned straight,” he agreed.
_____Cheri mused with considerable satisfaction on several levels, “This stupid contraption’s not even supposed to seat four, never mind have enough room for what we’re doing in here.”
_____“I love this car,” said Steve Ryan, as he stabbed straight down at Cheri’s spinal cord. “It feels like desecration, what we’re doing to it.”
_____“Huh,” grunted Cheri, “more like consecration. This is the most spiritual thing I’ve ever done.”
_____“Take my dick, Mother Mary.”
_____“In nomeni Patri, et Fili, Spiritus Sancti.”
_____Steve Ryan cracked up
_____“Don’t laugh. I’m very spiritual. I’m going to Holy Cross College next year. I plan on majoring in Post-Modern Profligacy.”
_____“Gloater. I still haven’t applied anywhere.”
_____Meanwhile, Goldilocks took her poke in the back seat, and Greta quietly observed from behind the veils. Of course Greta did not believe for a second that first-date sex with Brian Donner could pose any consequences whatsoever. She had long since learned, to her severe detriment, that conception and viability were two different conditions entirely, and that conception, while being well nigh impossible to achieve for one so broken and misshapen as herself, was a thousand times easier than achieving viability. Greta’s gynecologist, backed by a team of specialists, had explained the interrelated concepts to both Greta and her ashen mother one afternoon, when she had been just eleven and a half, several days after she had succeeded in concealing beloved Uncle Jerrold’s role in her broken state by convincing her mother and the doctors that she had mutilated her sex with a power drill— a monstrous lie, perpetrated for reasons that, to this day, she herself did not fully understand. She had sat adjacent to her mother, with a blank expression, had stared out of a wire-reinforced window, and had refused to listen to a single word, while the gynecologist had explained, “Under ordinary circumstances, a healthy male has approximately a one in one hundred chance of successfully fertilizing his partner’s egg, given one act of copulation timed randomly within the woman’s cycle. Of course the odds improve with judicious timing. Coitus during ovulation improves a couple’s chances considerably. However, due to the cervical damage your daughter has sustained, she has approximately a one in one thousand chance of fertilization, given optimal timing and conditions. This assumes, for argument’s sake, that her ovaries and fallopian tubes have been undamaged and operate normally, which regrettably is by no means a given, and without which, the egg cannot be present in the uterus and receptive to fertilization at the time of copulation. Then, there is the issue of viability. Assuming that the egg is capable of zygogenesis at the time of fertilization, the egg must also attach to the intrauterine wall and form a viable placenta. Given the extent of Greta’s injuries, particularly in the region of the cervix and lower uterus, and given the incidence of irremovable scar tissue, we have optimistically ascribed a one in one hundred chance of viability. By combining the two factors— fertilization and viability— we optimistically estimate that her chances of producing a healthy embryo and bringing it to term— that is, of achieving a viable childbirth— are approximately one in one hundred thousand.” Through the entire diatribe, Greta had stared out of the window and held her breath, without listening.
_____That night, in the basement, she had begun her diary.
_____Greta labored under deeper challenges than the mere unlikelihood of pregnancy. The real problem, for Greta, was viability. And yet, she might never learn how much harder the latter hurdle could be than the former. Thanks to Uncle Jerrold, pregnancy was effectively well nigh impossible to achieve. God, had she ever tried. These past four years she had been screwing herself into traction, through endless episodes of debauchery; had dreaded the periodic return of her menstrual flow as though it were a recurring nightmare; had chewed her nails to stubs in the futile hope of finding herself late, and had been denied, each and every month, ever since Uncle Jerrold had broken her beyond repair. She had already learned, to her desperate sadness and self-loathing, that fertilization posed an essentially incalculable difficulty, and she had already failed at it, more times than she could count.
_____She could not begin to imagine, should she ever be late, the trial that would follow, and she had long since convinced herself that she would rather end herself than endure the wait that would culminate in the proof of her inviability.
_____Greta squatted up and down on Brian’s lap with her back arched, so as to grind against him deeply. She moaned each time she bottomed out, with what everyone else in the car assumed to be pleasure, since they could not know that the contact of Brian against her cervix felt to her like having a tooth drilled without novacaine. Greta took that pain and crawled down into a deep well; she relinquished herself to Goldilocks, who felt nothing but a caress, and a gentle pressure, and the satisfaction of giving pleasure to her latest mister, albeit a boy her own age.
_____Brian Donner, as yet an astonished and relatively unsullied young gentleman, presently announced that his happy moment approached.
_____Steve Ryan had charmed Cheri Donner’s thighs open, for old times’ sake, and whilst working toward his own culmination, he deigned to coach Brian, by drawing upon his considerable experience. “Hey Brian, when you shoot, go deep, so you don’t splooge all over the seats.”
_____Cheri slapped him and yelled, “What is it with you and the damned car?”
_____“I told you, if he grunges those seats they’ll never be the same.”
_____“So what? Who gives a shit? You know what? Get off me!”
_____He smothered Cheri in a bearhug and rutted into her harder. “Sorry, Cherry.”
_____“Like, I’m serious. Get out of me! You’re supposed to be dicking me, and you’re more concerned about Daddy’s guilt-mobile. The whole point of this tincan is desecration. Ahh, goddamnit, why do I bother? Get off me. I need a beer.” With a combination of stridency and threats Cheri overcame his petulance and managed to eject him. Cheri and Steve retired to the party, leaving Brian and Goldi alone in the Mini Cooper.
_____Inevitably Brian and Greta would have to make their way into the party, but he was in no hurry, and if Greta had to be honest with herself, she was in no hurry, either. Cheri’s Mini Cooper, that shrine to profligacy, suited Greta’s perverse alter ego, Goldilocks, as well as anyplace.
_____For Greta Elisabeta herself, those minutes in the tiny back seat with Brian Donner constituted a brief respite in her descent, almost as though her fall had been broken temporarily by jutting rocks that cracked all around he, and would give way, crumble and cast her back into the abyss at any moment.
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