Erroneous Treatment Part 5
To counteract the impact of the binding love potion, it's crucial for the involved parties to remain physically distant from each other until the potion naturally fades away. Proximity acts as a catalyst, reviving the essence of the potion and inhibiting its natural dissolution process. This gives rise to a critical situation, as once the two come within range, outside forces are required to pull them apart.
I'd been pondering various approaches to convey the truth to Misty. My most feasible explanation: "Misty, remember when we attended that magic party together? You know how your obsession with your brother began? Yeah, that wasn't me."
Fortunately, Misty's tutoring sessions were going well. Not only was she finishing her tasks, but my understanding of the subject matter had become so deep that I felt I wouldn't even need to study for finals, which were fast approaching. Our class was also experiencing an upswing in grades, and the workload had been significantly reduced.
Mrs. Watson's mood had drastically altered since she'd been spellbound by Andre. She'd abandoned her original lesson plan for a more relaxed and personable teaching style. While lecturing, she'd often deviated into nostalgic reminiscences of her college and high school days. This shift had won the hearts of her students, who now adored the mild-mannered version of their instructor. Though I was worried she'd reveal too much, it was oddly comforting to hear how she occasionally skipped class on the days Andre skipped as well.
Observing Brent and Mrs. Young's intense relationship actually offered a glimmer of hope. While they felt unstoppable passion for each other, their bond had plateaued, thus dismissing my worry that Brent might reveal his secret crush on his mom to his friends, which would ruin my hold over him. I hoped that Andre and Mrs. Watson would maintain their relationship discreetly.
Arriving at the Armstrong residence, the door was unlocked, but the driveway was vacant, and there was no answer when I knocked. Since I'd established a comfy relationship with Misty through our tutoring sessions, I felt comfortable entering uninvited and proceeding to her room. The respectful neglect of me as a visitor had allowed by her parents didn't bother me.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, I knocked softly to get her attention. To my surprise, Misty was preoccupied in her own world, sitting cross-legged on the floor, focused on her phone and music. I could make out the cheery beats of a sugary pop song leaking from her costly earbuds. I couldn't help but feel disappointed. Wednesdays were typically her brighter days, as they meant she hadn't been to the hospital that week. Besides displaying more adolescent traits during her visits with Richie, you could tell from her appearance that she was under his influence - skin-tight leggings showcasing her bottom, a form-fitting athletic shirt, and childish colorful hair ties.
Damn, this wasn't the best way to initiate this conversation.
"C'mon, Misty!" Misty exclaimed when she spotted me lingering in her room. "Please, just give me a break. I was...I was just about to get on the phone with my...with my brother. It's not like we talk every day."
"But you see him tonight, right?" It seemed she wasn't the only one with a change in schedule.
"Well... I guess I did forget to mention that. No one needs to know," she retorted defensively.
"Misty, for your own good, it's best I explain what happened, so you know it wasn't a dream. You're acting strangely, and if you didn't think anything was weird, you wouldn't be so upset about your brother visiting."
She postulated, "Nooo...it can't be true. It was just a normal day. No magic. Everything's fine."
My hope dwindled as she put up a defensive front, stirring up Plan B. "Okay," I yielded. "What are you most looking forward to?"
"I know it's childish, but I just want to listen to music and eat junk food all day. It's like I've been trying to find happiness in doing mundane things. I don't get why everyone's so against it," she expressed.
"You're just grieving," I consoled. "Whether it's your brother or someone else, you're trying to partake in trivial forms of joy as a way to compensate. No one can fault you for wanting to be happy."
She sighed, seemingly torn. "Would you mind telling me what I can't tell my friends? I'm dying to know."
I weighed my options. Sometimes, people tend to appreciate hearing news through a third party. "You have a beautiful voice. I've always wanted to tell you that. Do you normally sing?"
"I haven't in years. But...yeah, I used to. I was kind of known around school for it. Winning talent shows, competing in contests. Everyone always loved me for that. But, there was someone who didn't. He told me I was ugly and worthless. I've been dealing with his cruelty ever since. It's really hard to feel confident again, and I'm afraid to sing, even though I love it."
I made a conciliatory gesture. "Misty, don't think of it like you're singing for them. You're singing for YOU."
I grasped her hands and whispered, "Singing is something that shines from within. If you sing with true essence, the audience is purely incidental. It's all about how it makes you feel. Honestly," I admitted, "you give off a positive vibe when you sing. A number of people favor your voice, maybe even more than they adore your brother's talent. You can break free from any futile comparison."
Misty drew in a deep breath, then eyed me thoughtfully. "You've been coming over here and pretending to be my personal cheerleader but-but-everyone would think...I don't even know. Never mind."
I nodded reassuringly. "Misty, we all have a past. The real challenge is how we handle and overcome it. Whatever happened at the magic party, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm confident you can push it away and redirect your musical aspirations toward a healthier direction."
She made a hesitant smile. "Thanks for not mocking me, Dude."
Misty ignored me, still venting her frustration. "You've got to hear this! You know that basic girl, Jada? I can't believe she actually told people that she and Richie were a thing. They hooked up ages ago, but he never even liked her. And we all know she's with Braxton now. But she still showed up at the hospital like she was his girlfriend. What was the point? She just wanted sympathy. And then she got pissed off when I told her to fuck off and shove her snickerdoodles up her ass," she ranted.
"Doesn't it hurt knowing how amazing Richie is and seeing him hooked up to a ventilator?" She looked down sadly.
I almost gagged. "Amazing guy?" I repeated incredulously.
"Yeah, I get it. You miss him. Everyone does, but you're his sister, and you-"
"I want to fuck Richie," Misty declared plainly.
I froze. "Um, what?" I stuttered, unsure how to respond.
"But the nurses are always around. I think one of them knows... Gretchen. She always gives me strange looks," Misty mumbled, staring at the floor. Her head rolled slightly as she hummed to herself for a few seconds before looking back at me.
"I'm not quite right, I think," she giggled nervously.
"Misty, there's something I need to tell you," I said, taking a deep breath. "There's a drug running around our school. It got into the water system. Not many people know about it, but it's serious. It makes people act... strangely. Like a psychedelic, but worse because it doesn't wear off and tricks people into thinking they're in love. It's affected a few people, including you.
If Misty heard me, she didn't show it. Her expression remained distant, and she slowly blinked, like a disoriented frog. "Misty, are you listening to me?" I asked, shaking her arm gently.
"Huh?" She seemed to wake up from her trance.
"I said I think you've taken this drug. That's why you have feelings for Richie."
Misty blinked and grinned. "So you think I'm high right now?"
"Um, sort of, but not how you think," I hedged. "A few days before Richie's accident, did he start acting any differently around you?"
"I suppose," she responded distractedly.
"And was that around the time you started feeling attracted to..." I swallowed hard. "...Him?"
"Maybe," she murmured, her voice drifting off. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere.
"Misty, you can't keep going back to the hospital. The more you do, the worse these side effects will get."
She stopped talking altogether. I blushed with embarrassment, realizing how odd I must sound. How could I get her to understand this?
"Wait a sec." I reached into my backpack and rummaged through the side pocket until I found the vial.
"This!" I declared, extracting the small container with the heart symbol and holding it out to her.
Misty stared at the glass, then asked, "Where'd you get it?"
"Um, at school, near the lockers..." I trailed off.
Perhaps it was better to reveal the truth when she wasn't fully awake and I didn't have to make up more lies. I was a terrible liar.
She studied the glass tube, turning it in her hand.
"Don't!" I snatched the vial from her hand before she could uncap it.
"A few drops of this will ruin your life," I warned, putting the container back in my backpack.
"To break the hold, you must stay away from the person you're bonded to. That's why you need to stop visiting Richie. And despite how tough it is, you have to return to school so you don't end up like me, trapped and alone."
"All right, then." Misty agreed.
I sighed with relief. "I've used this potion before. I tried to get even with Brent Young, but I didn't realize what would happen. He started bonking his mom now."
"Did that break up his relationship with Jordan?" Misty inquired, her eyes demonstrating both curiosity and worry.
I nodded. "That's why he broke up with her. You can't let this happen to you. The more your life gets back to normal, the less you'll see Richie, and the easier it will be for you to return to your usual self."
"Be genuine."
She seemed to understand my concern, saluting me playfully with her hands, keeping her lively nature intact. The thought that she might still be under the influence of something occurred to me when I examined the poster on her door as she walked away.
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"Good to see you again, Miss Armstrong," Mr. Phelps approached Misty's desk, his lips slightly frowning as he observed her phone lying open on her folder. She had to avoid getting reprimanded right at the start of the school year. Fortunately, the psychology teacher chose to overlook the infraction. I kept my gaze fixed on Misty throughout the day, not only to check how she was adapting but also out of concern. The idea of her turning into a chatty, pigtailed schoolmate declaring I was distributing love potions haunted me.
Luckily, she maintained her composure. Her shoulders were back, half of her black-green dress sliding up her thighs underneath the table. Her shirt still revealed her wonderful breasts, but her attire was more decent than tantalizing, fitting within the school dress code. Her hair was properly straightened, a red headband holding it in place behind her ears. She looked beautiful, less provocative than before, but her lips were still a striking shade of red, identical to Mrs. Young's. Her eyes were static, different from when she met her brother. She noticed me staring at her and stuck out her tongue.
"Misty! Oh my goodness! How are you?" Jada approached her friend excitedly.
Misty's face stiffened momentarily before she managed a friendly smile. "Hey, Jada. I'm fine, thank you."
Jada pretended not to notice the hidden tension and walked close to her own desk. "I wouldn't know what I'd do if I lost a brother. It's such a tragedy. I'd likely take the year off and make a mess of myself. It's fantastic to see you coping."
Misty flexed her fists beneath her desk. I saw her fury. "Yep, it's been hard, but I'm trying to remain strong."
Jada looked expressionless while mentioning her support. "If you ever need someone to talk to..." she added, shifting her attention to her desk. "By the way, remind you about the football playoffs, Friday is the first game. Braxton will wear Richie's number on his jersey since he's the new team's top receiver due to Richie's absence."
"I can't miss that." Misty's smile faded and she glared at Jada as she strolled away.
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I found an empty spot in the corridor and sat, unraveling a box of leftover yakimeshi, also brought from the previous night's dinner. I hurriedly ate it and prepared to throw the trash away when a foot stomped on mine.
"Hi," a familiar voice echoed around us.
Rising to my feet, I grabbed my bag. Talking to her in public made me uneasy.
"Are you doing well?" I inquired.
"Ugh, high school's just high school," she remarked, shifting her weight on her feet. "Do you want to hang out this evening?"
"Isn't it for the Friday math test?" I guessed. Mr. Fletcher stated that the exam would account for half our final grade.
"I'm not needing to study quite yet. Why don't we grab a bite to eat together?"
"Oh..." I felt it then; she intended to hang out with me as a friend, someone she felt at ease with. Instead of a tutor, just a companion. It was unexpected and made me feel uneasy. "Sure, definitely!" I replied too quickly.
"Great, meet you after class in the quad."
I observed people staring at us as their glances lingered on us. I wondered if my encounter with her boosted my popularity or merely pulled down Misty's. Then, without any warning, Misty stepped nearer and tightened her arms around me in a hug. The sensation of her against me, her mounds pressing into my chest, and the sweet scent of her hair clouding my thoughts took me aback.
I heard the bell ring and watched her wave goodbye.
I stood tensely in the quad, time dragging seemingly endless. Students dispersed, heading home. Despite Misty's vehicle not budging, there was no sign of her. Doubt, insecurity—had I imagined it all? Was it a teacher detention she'd been called for? Had she changed her mind about getting together? An assortment of thoughts plagued my mind. So I walked around campus, starting with the football field.
There, I saw her sitting in the bleachers, up a few rows from a couple freshmen jokingly tossing sunflower seeds.
Slowly, I climbed the steps, unsure of how to approach. "Misty, didn't we agree to meet in the quad?" I asked.
"Hmm," she hummed, equally focused on the field. The football pitch was reminiscent of the last time she'd been there, the day Richie was carted off.
Concerned, I questioned, "Should you be here, though? It's not the best environment for you."
"Shut it," she retorted curtly, drawing my attention to the cheerleaders nearby. Pom poms bobbed as the squad practiced their synchronized routine. I attempted to spark a better conversation by saying:
"You know you missed tryouts, right? Poms and all that sexy jazz?"
"Hilarious," she said with a dry laugh. However, her interest lay in one specific cheerleader—Jada. She stared, eyes reflecting unresolved feelings of bitterness, locking onto the beautiful blonde.
A whistle blew, signalling a break.
I tried distracting her. "Totally ignore her. It's just not worth it."
Misty cracked a smile, but not her typical warm one. Instead, it appeared twisted, sinister. I realized where to search in my bag and found the answer to my question. I put two and two together.
"What the hell did you do?!" I exclaimed, causing quite a commotion among other spectators. "Where's the drug you brought?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Misty, listen." I grabbed her shoulder, looking directly into her eyes. "Those drugs are lethal. It's not a game. Jada doesn't even deserve this. Why would you do this?"
"Careful, sanctimonious hero complex," she taunted. "I bet you assumed friendship while harboring intentions."
My stomach churned as I pondered our recent conversation. Lunchtime, that hug. "Wait—what about us? This was never about hanging out." My emotions morphed between confusion and irritation.
"Shut your fucking trap, assuming to teach a lesson. Who are you to judge? I know how you got into this. The bully you told me about, the one who drugged you? That was you, right?"
Her pointing fingers struck an emotional nerve. "I'm not like those guys, Misty. I couldn't have gotten hurt like that."
"Never?"
"No."
"So you're the saint."
"Far from it."
"Again with the 'romantic nice guy' act. I was right from the start. You're all the same—selfish douchebags."
My patience was wearing thin, but I managed to hold back. "You're wrong. This isn't your game, Misty. This isn't some prank, just a misguided attempt at seeking justice."
"You don't get to lecture me with your facade of 'purity.' I've seen through your act. You're more scared others'll find out about what you did to Richie." Misty seemed defiant. She pulled a vial from her pocket and threw it at me. "Here, take this," and, swiftly, she got up, stormed away.
I caught the bottle before it broke, but emotions overwhelmed me. "If my brother had woken up and known what you had done, the tables would be turned. This isn't a game."
But she hasn't listened. In a flash, she was gone, revving her car and continuing her journey in search of revenge. |
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Oh wait! Hold up, Misty! I yelled after her, yet it was too late. She didn't turn back. The group of freshmen snickered at my plea, but my numbed self couldn't care less. The thought of Misty going back to the hospital and becoming that vacant, shallow person distressed me. She wasn't just running away from her problems, she was giving up.
Practice was completed for the cheerleaders. The girls were picking up their bags from the track. Jada grabbed another swig from her bottle, then sprinted up and embraced Jordan's hand.
This wasn't good.
Efforts to reach out to Misty through calls and texts proved futile. She didn't respond. Her absence at school the next day fueled my worries. The idea of visiting her home crossed my mind, but I didn't desire to witness her, intoxicated and lifeless.
As for Jada, it was amusing. She was already so accustomed to testing the school's dress code and flirting with every friend of hers, it was challenging to identify any changes in her behavior. I was not naive enough to believe the potion had spared her from any effects, but I had to pay close attention to notice if she was behaving any differently.
Fortunately, I was quite sure of whom the potion had bonded Jada with. Of the two cheerleaders Jada was conversing with when she consumed the concoction, Jordan was her dearest friend. The one she seized hands with, and the one she exchanged notes with all during Psych that morning.
I retrieved a piece of crumpled paper from the trash. I had seen Jada discard it when the bell rang. Recognizing her handwriting in blue, I noticed Jordan's responses in green.
Jada: "Want to visit the mall later? I discovered this dress that's ideal for you, and it absolutely matches the Winter Formal motif."
Jordan: Sure, but don't you say you were going shopping with Brax?
Jada: No, he possesses zero fashion acumen and always yearns to visit Sports Authority (yuck!) or Cinnabon, even though he knows I can't ingest gluten! So, We're going Girls Trip!
Jordan: Hmm, I still have to commence my History essay due on Friday. Moreover, my mother is hounding me since I've been missing dinners.
Jada: What about tomorrow?
Jordan: Post cheer practice? You really want to go shopping while all soaked in sweat?
Jada: OMG, I don't care.
Jordan: LOL, Consider what Mrs. Glenn might remark when her co-captains vanish on the final practice before the playoffs commence.
Jada: Aww, but I long for you.
Jordan: I miss you as well, dear.
I pocketed the note. Jordan Griffin wasn't immune to sin either. The dark blonde with the braided hair and heart-shaped face had overlooked Brent's thuggish behavior for ages and would have carried on dating the jerk if not for his affair with Mrs. Young. She never suspected he was sleeping with her own mother. That juicy detail likely never entered her mind. Observing her unknowingly become the next target of the stolen elixir was similar to witnessing a slow-motion car accident. I chose not to interfere, but it felt like my responsibility to monitor her conduct.
I held a few minicameras in my backpack, ready to be skillfully positioned in locations where Jada would most likely frequent. The problem was, since she was part of the cool children, both girls were always surrounded by their "Mean Girls" troupe.
By Wednesday, Jada was behaving even more brazen, openly interrupting the classroom with constant whispers to Jordan. By the time the assignments were dispersed, Jordan was growing weary of her friend's misbehavior.
"Jada, cease it," Jordan playfully swatted her friend's hand.
"What? I'm only stating they appear bigger than usual."
"Do they?" Jordan chuckled. "Maybe I'm a late bloomer."
They also weigh more. Jada placed her hand on Jordan's breasts.
"Jada!" Jordan gasped. She scanned the classroom, catching me ogling them. Jada glared at me as well.
"What are you up to, peeping Tom? Didn't your mom teach you not to be a sleaze?"
Jordan blushed while trying to quiet Jada. I pretended to focus on my work but continued to listen.
"When did my breasts actually grow? When I began self-pleasuring," Jada stated casually. The over-share caused me to glance once more at the unrestrained, underage Queen Bee. [0]
Jordan tried to respond, but Jada interrupted her. "Nobody's going to blame you if you're feeling lonely. Especially with how Brent dumped you. I would've been all ice cream and vibrator on the first day."
"Ladies, please make some noise if you're done with your tasks and are ready for tomorrow's exam," Mr. Phelps declared from the whiteboard's front. The bell rang shortly after.
Jordan appeared to sense something was off about her friend, because she kept her distance from Jada for the rest of that Wednesday. She also spent the cheer practice that evening with an awkwardness that went beyond just their usual drills. On Thursday, it was obvious Jordan had reached her limit with Jada's childish attempts to capture her attention. She barely reacted to anything during their psychology test, and there was no doubt that something had shifted between them. I couldn't help but ponder if their text messages would reveal something morejuvenile. Who knows what kind of raunchy thoughts Jada had sent?
Richie Armstrong's mug gaped at everyone from the school's walls in anticipation of Friday's big game. Funds and donations from the tickets and stand sales were destined for the hospital that treated him.
Our playoffs were in full swing, inspiring a sense of hope that this could be the year we claimed the state title. The school's football players strutted around like demigods while the cheerleaders flaunted their uniforms. The buzz and anticipation transformed this hour into a study break as teachers postponed their lessons with finals looming.
Tensions between Jordan and Jada appeared to have subsided. The two joined a group of girls in the back, helping each other with makeup. Jada sketched a glittering heart and an otter, our school mascot, on Jordan's cheek.
Misty resumed her studies, but I rarely spotted her, spending most of her classes and that lunch time catching up on her assignments. The last five texts I'd sent her were still unread. Her car vanished by the time I left for home after the final bell. As I opened my phone, I pressed "send" on the message I'd been hesitating to deliver.
"I just want you to know I'm sorry. To the very core of my being, I never wanted to hurt you. I won't contact you again."
My phone chimed, indicating a response, but it was only a notification for a video from one of my cameras.
The status of Mrs. Watson and Andre's surreptitious meetings had evolved from reckless after-school flings to a torrid romance. They arranged their meetings at motels, nightclubs, and other secret locations, distancing themselves from their perch on campus.
Mrs. Watson underwent a transformation. The former married woman, who had always dressed modestly, now sported a white t-shirt bearing our school's emblem across her chest, mid-thigh shorts revealing more leg than most students had ever seen and bright pink sneakers.
This change in her character was further apparent when she permitted the class to paint a small football on her right temple.
"The game is compulsory," Andre pointed out as she packed her laptop after school.
"I truly can't go," Mrs. Watson insisted. "Ronny thinks something's up, so I promised him I'd be home early tonight to cook dinner for his parents."
"I doubt he has the slightest suspicion. And if he does, he's too much of a coward to do anything about it," Andre grumbled.
"Andre, he's a good person."
"I'm sorry." Andre moved close to her and kissed her on the lips before enfolding her in a hug. "You smell lovely today, Mrs. W."
Mrs. Watson flushed and withdrew. "I've been in a room with teenagers all day. You're just trying to get in my pants."
"I don't need to try hard." He prepared to kiss her again, but she resisted.
"Andre... Remember our agreement. Not at school," she whispered.
"I can't take it anymore, Mrs. W. I need you." He forced a kiss on her, his tongue slipping into her mouth. He pushed his body against hers, pressing his erection against her belly.
"Andre..." Mrs. Watson whimpered, succumbing to the man.
Andre's palm wrapped around one of her breasts beneath her shirt. Mrs. Watson moaned with pleasure. Simultaneously, he unfastened his belt and carefully lowered his pants, leaving his cock exposed. He then discarded his shirt and placed it on top of her purse.
The instructor lowered herself onto the floor in front of him, advising, "This is just a blowjob; afterward, I need to leave."
Andre nodded, his fingers running through her lengthy, dirty blond hair. He couldn't help but notice her passionate gaze, roaming from the teen's six-pack abs and chiseled chest to his massive, dark biceps.
Using her bright red fingernails, Mrs. Watson moved with lightning speed, expertly stroking Andre's shaft as if it were her most treasured object. Her pace increased, causing Andre to lean into her efforts. He gripped the back of her head, shoving his member into her mouth. She gagged, but surprisingly, she reacted no differently than if he'd casually tapped her shoulder. Instead, she reached her hand to her shorts and rubbed her clit fiercely.
"Fuck!" Andre roared as he climaxed, ejaculating in her mouth.
Mrs. Watson continued to gently stroke his limpening penis while he was shaking from the aftereffects. She slurped, gulped, and gurgled, attempting to consume his semen without any trace remaining.
Andre slouched over to brace himself on the closest desk, eyes heavy-lidded while his erection receded. He watched as Mrs. Watson swiftly cleaned her lips, yet all the while maintaining her focus on the magazine in her hands. Her actions remained consistent until she swallowed the last droplet of his cum.
Caressing her face and hair, she finished removing every last droplet.
"Now I must go," Mrs. Watson declared. "I'm not very organized and still need to drop off some assignments at the staff room."
Andre raised a hand, placing it firmly upon Mrs. W's purse.
"No, you're going to attend the game with me, like a perfect girlfriend."
Mrs. Watson balked. "We've already discussed this..."
I eagerly anticipated their ongoing discussion, but shortly after, the notification on my screen interfered, notifying me that my presence was needed at Brent's residence.
With the radiant Mrs. Young sprawled on the bed, her infamous robe draped dismissively nearby, an enticing glint of her ivory flesh flashed then retreated beneath the fabric. Mrs. Young, a carefree yet sensual person now that her spouse had moved out, became magnetic to my eyes. The beguiling woman interrupted her fancying of magazines and stared at her son.
Less than a half hour ago, I had observed Mrs. Young partake in her usual, meticulous grooming ritual - brushing her reddish-brown locks into a waterfall of silky curtain, applying the final touches to her face after changing her makeup, and topping it off with a beige coat on her nails.
As Brent entered the room, her gaze slowly migrated toward her son's impressive physique, his broad shoulders and rigid pecs.
Mrs. Young took a moment to savor the magnificence that was her son. As maternal instincts melted with primal desires, she seemed to forget the reality of things. Mrs. Young took a deep breath, discarding her robe to the side, now unimpeded from fully displaying her splendid form. Missing no opportunities to showcase her flesh, she recommended, " Join me in hedonism."
Minutes ago, the love potion would've instigated frantic fucking; cars would've flattened themselves in its way. Instead, she turned into a connoisseur of the art of love. Their climaxes increasingly resembled the slow dance, as they'd unlearn the urgent fondling and replaced them with intimate connection and patience.
Brent, who hastily stripped down in the same manner as his girlfriend's former lover, tossed his shirt to the side. Noticing his mother's naked form, he hesitated.
Unaware of his son's hesitation, Mrs. Young replaced her robe with an inviting expression. Her eyes were beaming with lust, her hair fanned out around her majestic face. Once he was close, she teasingly spread her legs.
Though she now exhibited the characteristics of a satiated lover, her dominant self from before continued to shine within her.
Brent climbed on top of his mom and began kissing her neck and nibbling on her earlobe. Mrs. Young moaned with pleasure as her son's lips moved down to her collarbone. It was surprising to see Brent, of all people, who could understand his mother's more sensitive needs. This was a stark contrast from how Andre treated Mrs. Watson and how Richie treated his sister. Perhaps there were stages as the love became more permanent.
Brent slid down his mother's body and began worshipping her large, soft breasts, licking his tongue over the sensitive surface of each nipple while pinching them.
By the time he finally entered her, the sheer adoration on their faces while they maintained eye contact left me flushing. Brent thrust his hard member deep inside his mother's wet opening. Mrs. Young's toes curled in excitement, and she shivered beneath him. Their unapologetic love seemed to have reached a climax several minutes later, as the slender woman's hips shook and her son's manhood released billions of swimmers deep inside her womb. When Brent turned over, a considerable amount of cum oozed out of her swollen pussy. It was a disgusting moment I had witnessed many times before.
Before Brent could leave to shower and prepare for the game, his mom grasped his hand and said something before pointing to her nightstand. Brent appeared baffled and then pulled out a small pencil-sized object from the drawer. I had to watch the footage several times before I realized what he was holding.
"No..." I said in disbelief, "You've got to be joking."
Brent looked delighted. The 18-year-old boy grinned from ear to ear as his mother wrapped her fingers around his cock and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her other hand rubbed her belly. My head fell into my hands.
Brent Young, the biggest tool in school, was going to be a father.
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Inspired by his personal victory, Brent arrived at the game ready to dominate. He put up a great performance in the first half, leading the team and amassing a double-digit lead over the opponents. I didn't mind cheering for him, knowing that with a few clicks of my fingers, I could ruin his life. There was a sense of excitement in the air that made the scene even more special. Even though I didn't know the difference between a kickoff and a punt, I got so caught up in the game that I forgot about my actual purpose, to keep an eye on Jada and Jordan. However, the lively brunette appeared to be on her best behavior.
Both girls were dressed in the same uniform, a white and blue cheerleader skirt and crop top. They could have been twins. Jada had dyed and cut her hair to match Jordan's the night before and both of them had tied their hair into sleek ponytails. With their young, oval-shaped faces, high cheekbones, full, soft lips, and fair, radiant skin, it was easy to get them mixed up. The synchronized sway of their pom poms and ponytails was mesmerizing.
At halftime, there was a moment of silence in honor of Richie, followed by performances from the cheerleaders and marching band.
By the third quarter, our team began to tire. The defense allowed a crucial touchdown, and Braxton, Richie's substitute, missed a few easy catches and seemed to lose his connection with his quarterback. We had just entered the fourth quarter and held the slimmest of leads when I saw Jada pulling Jordan towards the track's empty path behind the bleachers.
The audience was captivated by the game, so there was little traffic as I rushed down the aisles and past the concession stand. The two girls slipped away toward the edge of the baseball field.
Oh no, this was happening. Pulling up my hoodie, I quickly followed the two girls as they became virtually invisible in the darkness. With only the moonlight to guide me, I attempted to move around the outfield's perimeter. Just when I thought I had lost them, a girlish giggle pierced through the chirping crickets. It came from the baseball diamond. I stayed low, hurrying towards the home team dugout to get a better view, and hid behind the covered cloth on the fence to remain hidden from view.
Another giggle, but this time I could see the two girls and could tell it was Jada just being excited.
"Where are you taking me!? We're going to miss the rest of the game! And it's chilly!" Jordan whined to her infected friend.
"Come on, chill out! Seriously, why are you always so stressed?" [
Jordan had tightly held her elbows, trying to remain warm. Her restlessness wasn't comforting as her gaze was constantly anticipating a scare from Slenderman possibly emerging from the shadows. I felt like I was indecipherable, but when she glanced at the dugout, I still tensed nervously.
"Can I see your phone? Mine died, and I've wanting to capture a selfie," Jada diverted Jordan's attention.
"Okay..."
Jada moved next to Jordan, wrapping her arm around her as she opened the camera app.
"Get closer!" She insisted, compelling Jordan to bring their cheeks together in matching duck-faced smirks for the selfie. Just before the flash clicked on, Jada rotated and smooched her friend.
Jordan sprang back.
"Jada! Why are you reading so erratically these days!?"
"It's just a small peck. Nothing you've not envisioned ahead of time, I'll wager." Jada downplayed the incident while promptly texting the snapshot to herself.
"I'm exiting."
"Wait... Did you hear that?" Jada lifted her palm. I was convinced Jada hadn't heard anything but surreptitiously wanted Jordan all to herself.
"There." Jada highlighted beyond me, into the outfield.
Jordan strolled ahead. "I can't see anything," she decisively described.
"Keep looking," Jada ordered, before furtively throwing Jordan's phone into the grass nearby the Pitcher's platform, and then hovering around Brent's unsociable companion. Jada swiped her arms round Jordan's hips and encompassed her closely. She stiffened Jordan's bosoms through her blouse.
Jordan thrashed. "What's gone erratic with you?" "Stop! Even though it's not funny now. Keep your hands away."
Jada hushed her bestie, manhandling her body and speaking straight into her ear, "Would you touch me if it made you feel more reassured?"
Jordan jerked forward and severed loose. When she reverted, she found Jada adjusting her own crop top and thrusting her bosoms explicitly.
"Enough Jada. I don't know what's corrupted you. Jesus. You've recognized me since I was a child, I'm not a lesbian... and neither are you." Although her intonation sounded inquisitive more than accusatory.
Jada frowned, "Maybe if you hadn't run me off all week..."
"Avoided you all week? I conveyed you I possessed a school mission!"
"But I required you. I'm undergoing a lot."
Jordan whined, "I don't realize."
Jada drew nearer, intending to pounce. "I merely... I believed I was satisfied, ya know? Everything seemed to be progressing nicely with college and graduation, and then this mysterious emotion overtook me, and I am in awe! Perhaps I'm not completely Hanna, or Aria, or Ali... perhaps I fancy myself more of an Emily..."
Jordan gaped, perplexed. "What? Are you truly pitting yourself alongside Pretty Little Liars at this instant?"
Jada cocked a single eyebrow and yawned.
Jordan snickered, "What regarding Braxton!? Your boyfriend, did you abruptly forget about him?"
"Banish Braxton. That journey has departed. I fired him halfway."
"Huh??" Yet prior to Jordan could inquire about this, the love-addled teen was onto her like a feline, tackling her quarry to the ground.
Jordan battled and elbowed Jada in the belly. The blow confused her temporary, presentating Jordan a brief chance to slip away. However, Jada was indefatigable, meticulously seizing hold of Jordan's ankle and dragging her straight back into her possession. She latched her limbs around her friend, and in a rapid action, nabbed Jordan's wrists, piling them aching against her sides. With Jada's delicate yet forceful countenance enveloping Jordan, their schnozzles barely an inch apart, Jordan's mind raced with a mixture of astonishment and adrenaline.
"Aww. Don't be troubled. Please Jordan." Jada's wide deer-in-the-headlights gaze shimmered as she writhed her rump against her teammate's groin. "My mom used to assert that big nipples are more trouble than they're worth, but I presume she's only jealous she's a B cup at best."
Jada emulated her statement by ejecting her top.
"Jada! What are you accomplishing? I'm your best friend!" Jordan struggled. Her apparel had been dirtied, and her ponytail had fallen from its elastic.
Jordan gasped for breath, her protests ignored as Jada, the horny senior, took control of the scenario. Swatting away her friend's hands, Jada smoothly got on her knees, slipped her own red-and-white cheerleading briefs down beneath her skirt, and pulled them out from under her legs and off her feet. Using her shoes as makeshift handcuffs, she bound Jordan's wrists together behind her back, leaving her completely under Jada's control. Looking deep into Jordan's eyes, an intense connection sparked between them. Jordan's attempts to break free only seemed to make her wetter.
"Nooo... Jada... please!" Jordan struggled, but Jada's full weight pushed her onto her hips, making it almost impossible to inhale. Jada's fingers slipped beneath Jordan's skirt and into her purple cheerleading panties, stroking her clit.
"That's it, BFF. Get nice and wet for me."
"Nooo! This is wrong!" Jordan cried out. She shuddered, realising she was now staring at Jada's exposed, bouncy breasts.
The more she fought, the hotter and wetter she became, tiring herself out as she resisted Jada's manipulations. Jada chuckled, still pinning Jordan down. Their athletic, toned bodies writhed against one another, with one determined to break free and the other desperately trying to escape.
"I've always fantasised about you, Jordan. Fantasised about fucking you! I came so hard when I imagined this, and I promise to make you climax just as hard."
Jada pulled her fingers out of Jordan's skirt and brought them to her own mouth.
"Mmm, you taste so good. Juicier than I thought." Jada's back arched, grinding herself on Jordan's pussy.
"You're right. I-I like girls!" Jordan's mouth was forcefully stuffed with one of Jada's big tits.
"You know why I dyed my hair... so I could look in the mirror while masturbating and imagine I was fucking you. You gave me the best orgasm I've ever had, Jordan."
Jada removed her mouth from Jordan's and then forced her tit back into Jordan's.
"Yes, you like it! It's the real reason you joined cheer..." Jada paused and then grinned. "...It's the reason you and Brent broke up!"
Jordan's pupils widened in realisation, and she was now willingly sucking on Jada's nipple as if it was the sacred venue of the Virgin Mary. Her mouth was overtaken with pleasure as Jada fingered her clit and played with her pussy.
"Come on! Cum for your best friend!"
As Jordan's muscles convulsed in the throes of orgasm, Jada undid her handcuffs and then nodded approvingly. "Good job, sweetie."
Pushing herself up, Jada positioned her pussy above Jordan's face. Jordan was so caught up in her pleasure that she had no understanding of what was happening. Jada straddled her, pressing her dripping pussy onto Jordan's face.
"You've got the smoothest pussy I've ever seen." Jada sighed contentedly, her face resting on Jordan's shaved mound. While they both enthusiastically licked and explored each other's sweet regions, I took a few photographs in low light. Although I had no intention of blackmailing them, it was comforting to have a visual record.
As if by fate, a thunderous roar resounded through the stadium, signalling the end of the game. I saw people preparing to leave.
Jordan leant against Jada, her head on her shoulder, as Jada released her.
"Best friends huh?"
A flash erupted from the other dugout, causing Jada to question what had happened. Distracted and concerned for Jordan's fragile state, she quickly instructed, "Let's change now."
I had sharper vision than Jada, and I saw the shadow slink towards the outfield fence. The flash had indeed occurred, and despite the darkness, its origin was likely unidentifiable. I needed to determine who had taken the photo. I took off, leveraging my agility to gain ground on the intruder.
Although I was never a track star, my lithe form allowed me to move swiftly when necessary. I spied the hooded figure making its way past the outfield perimeter toward the opening in the fence. If it reached the parking lot, I'd never manage to track them down in the swarm of people leaving the game.
Pushing past my limits, I raced, emitting hot breath from my nostrils and urging my limbs to move faster. I was catching up. My heart thumped with excitement. The impending final exams and deadline for my college application were approaching, but even as I supervised two bullies, turned my crush into a hedonistic nymphomaniac, caused a scandalous teacher-student relationship, and pushed two girls to openly engage in homosexuality, here I found myself racing an unknown person through my high school baseball field at night.
Unfortunately, my momentum was halted when my foot sank into a hole. Ouch! I tumbled and hit my face against the grass. I slowly regained my composure and stood up, now limping. I located a convenient bench beneath a streetlamp to rest before venturing toward the parking lot.
The families filed to their cars, and I peered at the scoreboard. The lights flickered that we had lost in overtime – score of 34-31. I rubbed my bruised knees and considered the puddle of mud settling on my face.
A pair of combat boots appeared in front of me. I gazed up cautiously, assuming one of them could be the remnant of my fall. Soon, Misty eased down on the pavement opposite me.
"You took a real tumble," she offered casually.
"Yes," I agreed, concerned that maybe I'd sustained a head injury.
Misty grinned wryly. "Caught your spur-of-the-moment pursuit in the act. I doubted all the serum stuff you said – until tonight."
"Oh." I exhaled, grateful she no longer harbored anger towards me. "I was worried you might be inclined to vengeance against Richie – but this fashion change must have been a conscientious decision?"
She smirked. "Not really. My mom, still upset over the cancellation of the PTA's fundraiser for Richie, made me come. Heavens knows how awkward it was for both of us.
"None of it is ideal, but my emotions calm since you revealed that evening. As you noted, we've both witnessed his territorial ambitions first-hand, and despite his imperfections, feelings have developed. And hey, I'm partial to darkness. It may not be desirable but learning to manage it might be better than one might think."
"I agree." I nodded.
She peered from under her hoodie, revealing her silky brown locks. "Also, there's Winter Formal next week, and the fellows who have asked me typically make me uncomfortable. Sooo."
"I suppose you require a trustworthy companion?" I asked encouragingly, delighted to establish amicable terms.
Misty paused, seriously contemplating her next statement. "In fact, are you acquainted with any reliable tutors?"
"You're serious?" I joked with relief that we could now chat without hostility.
She hesitated, then alluded to her current state. "And, you know, my love life got a bit complicated."
"Want some assistance?" I joked.
She grinned. "I don't have to worry about any of that stuff from my previous experiences when I'm, well, plugged in."
I nodded in understanding, in awe of our heartfelt confessions.
"Are you asking me to the Winter Formal?" I asked, my heart beating like a little bird.
She shrugged carelessly. "Unless you're going to be strange about it..."
I attempted to look casual, but I could feel sweat forming under my arms. "Gotta make sure my calendar is clear is all."
She nudged my shoulder playfully. "Don't overthink it."
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