Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine
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Laurel didn’t want to go anywhere near her skater friends at the moment, considering what Annika was doing to her life.
Last time she had hung out with Hunter and her friends, Annika had made her wear high heels and pretty clothes instead of her emo skater outfit. Then Hunter had made Laurel show everyone her panties, and then take out her tits – in public – for the boys to stare at. Hunter had made her say that she was a “cunt with big fuckmelons”. All her friends had confessed how much they wanted to rape her. And afterwards Annika had made Laurel send her friend Gavin a photo of her breasts.
But she had agreed to let Annika change her “attitude” towards her friends, under the threat of Annika publicising the video of her letting her father’s cock slip into her cunt. She was stuck.
In Laurel’s bedroom, Annika had laid out four sets of items on Laurel’s bed.
“Pick two sets,” said Annika. “That’s what you’re wearing to go skating today.”
As Laurel had feared, it was a choice with no good answers.
The first set was a pair of high heels and the shirt that said “SLUT” on the front – the shirt that Annik had described as “helping men to see her as something to stick their cock into”.
The second set was a pair of expensive panties and a vibrating dildo, that Laurel knew she would be expected to wear inside her pussy, activated.
The third set was a bra and a butt plug.
The fourth set was a short pleated skirt and what appeared to be a piece of jewellery.
“What is this?” asked Laurel, pointing at the jewellery.
“A clit clamp, sweetie,” said Annika. “It just clamps onto your clit there, with its little jaws, and the weight that’s hanging from it will bounce as you walk, to just keep you kind of focused on your feminine attributes.”
Laurel spent time looking at the clothes, trying to work out a good answer to this puzzle, but there was really only one solution. She couldn’t go outdoors wearing only a bra above the waist, or only panties below it, and the SLUT shirt barely covered her tits, let alone coming down far enough to conceal her cunt.
She had to choose the skirt and shirt – and that meant wearing the high heels and the clit clamp. The clamp in particular was nasty – she gasped in pain as she clipped it onto her sensitive clitoris, and she quickly learned that she had to walk slowly and carefully to avoid having it tug painfully on her clit.
Without a bra, the shirt stretched lewdly over her boobs, and she realised that she could see the outline of her nipples through it.
“Beautiful,” said Annika. “Now sit down and let me do your makeup.”
Laurel was worried that Annika would make her look even more like a whore – but by the time Annika was done with her, Laurel had to admit that she genuinely did look beautiful. Or, to be more accurate, she looked like a fuckdoll – but an attractive one. She looked like an e-girl, with a pouty pink sexy-baby look.
She knew the boys at the skate park would make fun of her. She also knew that the would be thinking about fucking her.
“There,” said Annika. “Go ask your father if you look fuckable.”
Laurel stood up and went to see her father, but Annika called after her.
“Laurel?” she said. “Those exact works. Do you look fuckable?”
Laurel found her father outside, doing some kind of maintenance on the family car. She blushed to be standing outdoors in the “SLUT” shirt, knowing that she was wearing no panties, but at least no one was on the street.
“Daddy,” she said. “Do I look fuckable?”
Her father got up from where he was kneeling and looked her up and down.
“Are you wearing panties, sweetie?” he asked.
She blushed. “No,” she said, quietly.
“Show me,” he said.
Laurel knew what Annika would require her to do. She lifted her skirt, and showed her father her naked cunt and her clitoris clamp.
“Yes, baby,” said her father. “You look very fuckable.” Then, remembering that they were training Laurel to smile through harassment, he added, “You look like a dumb little fucktoy.”
Laurel kept her smile plastered on her face, and said, “Thank you, daddy.” And her eyes went to her father’s pants, where there was a noticeable bulge.
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Annika drove Laurel to the skate park. In the car she gave Laurel a small index card, with words on it.
“Here’s your challenge for today, Laurel,” she said. “You are to spend a day with your friends without having any disagreement with a man. No frowns, no protests, no bitchy behaviour. You agree with what men say. Also, you are to welcome any attention you get, and smile and say thank you. Have you got that?”
“Yes,” said Laurel, sulkily.
“Tell them you’re a cheerleader now. And you are to start one of the conversations listed on the card,” said Annika. “Just one, but make sure it’s a good discussion.”
Laurel looked at the card. It read:
1) I’d like to be raped.
2) Does my cunt look pretty?
3) Women are stupid sluts.
4) I’m sorry for being a cocktease; what can I do to make it up to you?
“I… I can’t…” Laurel protested.
“Certainly you can,” said Annika. “I’m going to be sitting at one of those picnic tables nearby so I should be able to hear you. If you can do as you’re told, I’ll buy you some more pretty clothes to wear. But if you can’t, then I think we’ll need to do more to emphasise your femininity. Maybe we could dye your hair? I think you’d look pretty as a blonde.”
Laurel couldn’t count how many times she’d said that blonde girls were bimbos, or made dumb blonde jokes in front of her friends. She couldn’t go blonde. She’d die of shame.
“Fine,” she said, getting out of the car. At least Annika had let her bring her skateboard.
Annika got out behind her and moved to a picnic table near the skate park, as promised.
There was laughter and hooting as Laurel approached the corner of the skate park where her friends were gathered, walking on her high heels one foot after the other in the way that made her hips sway.
“Love the shirt, cunt!” called out Gavin.
Laurel tried to smile. “Thank you!” she called back.
When she got nearer, Hunter said, “You look like a whore.” His expression was cruel and predatory.
She kept smiling. “Thank you,” she said.
“Love that picture of your tits you sent to Gavin,” said Vernon. “Can I have one too?”
But it was Hunter who answered. “Of course you can,” he said, and reached out and pulled Laurel’s shirt up without even asking her, baring her breasts to the group.
Laurel’s first instinct was to struggle and pull her shirt down, but her eyes fell on Annika, sitting at the nearby picnic table, wearing sunglasses, and she lowered her hands and let Hunter show her tits to her friends.
Vernon laughed, and got out his phone, and photographed Laurel.
“I love that you’ve accepted your gender,” said Hunter. “The slut look suits you. But can I ask – what’s brought about this change?”
“Well,” said Laurel, “I’m a cheerleader now…”
This brought another round of laughter from the boys – and from Autumn, who had learned to laugh when boys were laughing, and who was dressed just as sluttily as Laurel, in close-cropped denim shorts that clearly didn’t have panties beneath them, and a tight tube-top.
“Isn’t ‘cheerleader’ just another word for ‘bimbo fucktoy’?” asked Hunter.
She opened her mouth to say no – but she wasn’t to disagree with men.
“Yes,” she said.
The boys couldn’t believe how far she was going with this. They laughed again.
“So you’re a bimbo fucktoy?” asked Hunter.
“Yes,” said Laurel.
“Say it,” said Hunter.
“I’m… I’m a bimbo fucktoy now,” said Laurel. She felt like she might cry, and her visible weakness was just making the boys laugh harder.
“I see you brought your skateboard,” said Hunter. “Why don’t you skate a little for us? Or are you too much of a brain-dead cunt to skate now?”
She bristled. She could skate as well as any of these boys, and they knew it.
Although right now she was wearing high heels….
Fuck it, she could still skate. Especially if the alternative was to agree that she was a brain-dead cunt.
“Sure,” she said. She pulled down her shirt, then put down her board, and gingerly tested her ability to stand on it in heels.
Hunter got out his phone to video her, and the other boys followed his lead.
She pushed off, and let herself ride the gentle curves and ramps of the skate park. She found, to her relief, that she could balance on the board in heels. It was difficult – the heels shifted her weight – but she was good, and she could manage even with a handicap.
In fact, she did an excellent job, until the first time she tried to kickflip. Her unsupported tits bounced up – and when they bounced down, the shirt didn’t follow them. Her breasts were exposed again, right in the middle of the skate park.
And, worse, the motion also bounced her cunt weight, and she squealed as it pulled hard on her clitoris.
The combination of pain and shame made her lose her balance. She came off the board and landed on her tits, face down, ass up – and in the process, her skirt rode up to her waist, baring her ass and pussy to the entire skate park.
There was laughter – not just from her friends, but from other skaters watching. Other teen boys were taking photos of her.
She jumped up, scrambling to rearrange her clothes and ran to Hunter.
“You have to delete that video,” she begged.
“Too late, bitch, it’s on YouTube,” said Hunter. He showed her. The video title was “Dumb Bitch Shows Her Tits And Cunt in Skate Fail”. And, yes, it clearly showed her face – and her tits, and her pussy and ass.
She opened her mouth to argue – and then looked at Annika again.
She wanted to cry.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to smile. “Thank you for uploading it to YouTube.”
“Go try again,” said Hunter. “You can do better than that. And no touching your clothes until you come off your board.”
She couldn’t argue. She went back out again, trying to complete a few simple tricks. Every time she jumped or bounced, her top would ride up and bare her tits, and her clamp would tug agonisingly on her pussy. And Hunter wouldn’t let her pull her shirt back down, so she would skate around, in front of a small crowd, with her tits out, until the combination of shame, pain, and high heels would eventually make her fuck up and come off her board.
Hunter duly uploaded each “Slut Skate Fail” to the internet, and she thanked him for the attention.
Finally she couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she said, returning to her friends, “I’m too much of a brain-dead cunt to skate.”
They all laughed, but they let her sit down. Hunter flipped up her top to expose her boobs again, and she thanked him for it.
She needed to start one of her topics of conversation. They were all horrid. But they had already seen her pussy, when she had fallen.
“Does… does my cunt look pretty?” she asked.
“Let us see before we decide,” said Hunter.
And so Laurel had to pull her skirt up to her waist and spread her legs and let the boys look at her fuckhole.
“It’s kind of ugly,” said Gavin.
“It looks slutty,” said Vernon.
“I think it’s pretty,” suggested Autumn.
“That’s because you’re a dumb slut,” said Hunter. “It’s a disgusting whore’s gash. Spread your lips so we can see better.”
Blushing, Laurel spread her pussy lips for the boys.
“What does this do?” asked Vernon – and before she could stop him, he reached forward and pulled on her clit clamp.
She screamed as the clamp tugged free, torturing her clit in the process, and everyone laughed.
“Why are you wearing that, bitch?” asked Hunter.
“Because… because I’m a dumb slut,” said Laurel, not knowing what else to say. It at least made everyone laugh.
“She needs the clamp back,” said Hunter. “Give it here.”
Gavin gave him the clamp, and Hunter leaned forwards and reattached it to her clit. He wasn’t gentle – and then, as soon as it was in place, Vernon moved forward and yanked it off again. Laurel felt herself crying with pain as they all guffawed.
Hunter leaned in, and pinched her clitoris hard – as hard as he could – and Laurel wailed again. Then he reapplied the clamp.
“Thank you,” Laurel gasped. “Thank you for hurting me. Thank you for laughing at me.”
“You’re welcome,” said Hunter. “You know, there’s a party at my house tomorrow night. I think you should come. Dressed like this. You’ll come, won’t you, cunt?”
She couldn’t argue.
All she could say was, “Yes.”
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