SKANKY (TG)

Bill Kallis sat behind his desk with the biggest hard-on that he had
ever had.

Bald?

Retarded?

Flabby?

He was lost in thought, completely oblivious to everything that his
history teacher was saying. He knew that he held the power of a god
over everyone and everything that he saw.

Gay?

Old?

Busty?

He smiled to himself as he lazily revelled in his new-found power.

It was all such a huge improvement over the previous day.

Bill had been so miserable that, as he'd walked down the street,
he'd seriously considered leaping in front of a truck.

A rather pretty busker had apparently noticed how he was feeling and
had started up a conversation. After a while, obviously feeling
sorry for him, she had secretively offered him a small slip of
paper.

Accepting it with curiosity, he had seen that it had '_______ is
___' crudely printed across it.

She had explained that if a person's name and a single adjective
were written into the blank spaces, then that person would soon
become exactly what that word described.

Wanting to humour her, Bill had accepted the paper and made an
excuse to leave.

Shortly after, however, his curiosity had overcome him and he had
carelessly scrawled 'BILL KALLIS is RICH' onto the paper.

He had been surprised when, the second he was finished, the paper
had darkened and shrivelled to ash.

He had been even more surprised that evening, when his house had
slowly transformed into a mansion.

Everyone had acted as though everything was normal, and he'd found
that photographs and records had simultaneously changed to match
people's new memories.

Leaping into his new Ferrari, he'd rushed back to where he'd met the
busker, arriving just as she was packing up to leave.

She had driven a hard bargain, but after he offered her an amount of
money that was impressive even by his new standards, she had given
him another two paper slips, saying that they were the last ones she
had.

She'd called out as he turned to go, warning him to use them
sparingly.

Something about how the paper's magic could sometimes linger for a
while after a wish and interfere unpredictably with the magic of the
next one.

Bill had just called back his thanks and left.

He had been unable to sleep that night.

He had lain awake in his huge, king-sized bed, making plans. He
wanted to use one more on himself, and was considering what to do
with the spare.

He had a lot of scores that he wanted to settle.

He had only made up his mind that morning. The whole school had been
cramped into the courtyard and, despite the heat, had been forced to
listen to a lengthy series of congratulatory speeches.

It seems Harry Alban had just been declared 'Student of the Year'.

Bill had decided then.

He hated Harry.

Not content with being rich, super-popular, good-looking, a girl-
magnet, team captain and star player, he had to be top of the class
as well.

Bill had written in HARRY ALBAN right there.

He had now spent more than an hour gleefully contemplating what word
he would use to take the Student of the Year down a peg or two.

Tiny?

Flatulent?

Naked?

Unlucky?

Fake?

Dickless?

They were all good, but he wanted to do something very special to
Harry.

He continued to sit slyly pondering at his desk as the class went on
around him.

The teacher was just explaining Napoleon's typical battle tactics
when suddenly there was a thunderous burst of laughter.

Everyone in the class turned to look at Bill, whose expression of
devious consideration had changed to one of pure mirth.

The teacher waited for silence to return, cleared her throat in
annoyance, and continued where she had left off.

Bill, still shaking with laughter and biting his lip to try to keep
it in, took out a pen and quietly wrote one word:

'SKANKY'



Harry Alban was alone in the locker room when he suddenly got a
powerful erection.

He was getting dressed after a few quick laps in the pool, and
stared down at his quivering manhood as it slowly softened back to
its normal state.

What on earth had caused that?

Harry frowned. Nothing unpredictable like that had happened in
years, and he certainly didn't need it to start happening again now,
just as he was about to be photographed for the local paper.

He went to button up his shirt, only to stop hastily.

It felt like sandpaper.

He pulled it open and, looking down, saw that his nipples looked
unnaturally large and puffy. Gentling brushing one with a finger, he
winced as he discovered how incredibly sensitive they were.

What had caused that?

Deciding that they were perhaps putting a bit too much chlorine in
the pool, he considered his, still tingling, bright red nipples.

He would need to wear something between his chest and his shirt.

He remembered the red tank top that he sometimes wore to the gym. He
began searching for it through his bag. He knew that it was there:
he had recently washed it along with various other school clothes
and dumped them all back into his gym bag.

He found it. He held it up and stared at it.

It had shrunk in the wash.

It had never done that before.

Sighing, he tried to pull it over his head. It was tight, but he
finally managed to pull it down over his chest. It was so short that
it only barely came down past his nipples, but that was all he
needed.

He put his shirt on, and checked to see that the shrunken top wasn't
visible beneath it.

When he was finally ready, he pushed his gym bag into his locker,
left the change room and walked down the hall to the principal's
office.

The office door opened at Harry's knock to reveal Mr. York, the
assistant principal, helping the photographer set up.

The room was already filled with some bizarre-looking lighting
equipment.

A few moments later, Mrs. Frostrup, the school principle, entered
carrying a large golden trophy with 'Student of the Year' engraved
across it.

"Oh hello, Harry," she smiled. "I'm sorry that we couldn't have taken
the pictures this morning, but the trophy was unexpectedly held up
at the engravers."

Harry assured her that it was fine.

Mr. York made an apology and left, saying that he was needed
elsewhere.

The photographer, a thin man with small, round spectacles,
introduced himself to Harry. He explained that, to keep the light
from making his skin seem unnaturally pale, he would have to apply
some light make-up.

Harry wasn't entirely comfortable, but sat still while the
photographer ran a few large brushes across his face.

Harry was lead over to where the principal was standing with the
trophy and they both smiled as pictures were taken.

The photographer stood back with a thoughtful look on his face.

"It might look better if you were a bit higher up," he said to Harry.

He walked over to one of his cases in the corner. "I know, you can
wear these," he said as he pulled out a pair of platform shoes.

"Couldn't I just stand on a box?" Harry asked.

The photographer shook his head. "These are better. See, with these
we can move you around more easily."

Harry was unconvinced, but, not wanting to make a fuss, he began
unlacing his shoes.

The platforms were a tight fit. He had to pull his socks high up on
his ankles to squeeze his feet in.

Walking slightly unsteadily, he posed for a few more photographs.

The photographer still seemed unhappy, though.

"I'm still not sure about the light in here..." he said, frowning.

He turned to the principal. "I wonder, could I just take a quick
look outside and see if there's anywhere..."

"Certainly," Mrs. Frostrup replied, "I'll just give you a quick tour
of the courtyard."

She turned back towards Harry. "It'd probably be easier if you
waited here," she said. "We shouldn't be more than ten minutes."

As they left, Harry glanced around the room.

He'd never been in the principle's office before, and felt slightly
uncomfortable about suddenly being left alone in it.

He sat down on the desk, noting the 'Mrs. Frostrup - School
Principal' sign placed prominently across it.

Then his eye fell on something else.

Under the desk was a box, filled with a bizarre assortment of items.

Leaning down and rummaging through it curiously, he realised that
this was the box of things that had been confiscated from students
over the years.

He noticed something.

There, peaking out from underneath a copy of Penthouse, was a
picture of his best friend's face.

How had a picture of Steve Ganz ended up in the confiscated box?

He pushed the magazine aside, revealing the rest of the photo.

He gasped.

It showed Steve - completely naked - grinning broadly at the camera
as he stood with his member in his hand...

And WHAT a member!

It was almost as long as his forearm - he could barely even wrap his
hand around it.

Harry shuddered. This must be some disgusting attempt at digital
photo alteration, surely? Steve's locker was right beside his. They
naturally averted their gaze, but surely... surely... he would have
noticed that!

Harry's erection returned, stronger.

And what was this written across the bottom of the photo?

'To Heidi - my favourite Boytoy, XXO'

What the hell...?

Who is Heidi?

What kind of girl would even go near that thing? Look at it, so
impossibly BIG and HARD and...

Harry gave a little gasp as he suddenly experienced the most violent
orgasm of his life. He gaped, straining for breath, as wave after
wave of ecstasy blew through him.

In his pants he could feel himself coming, again and again, each
time feeling better than the one before it.

It just kept on going.

Harry moaned. He had never dreamed that he could possibly keep on
going for so long, or that his dick could produce so much cum. He
could feel it pooling in his boxers and gushing down his legs. His
balls must be almost bone dry.

With a final little whimper, Harry finished, dropping the picture
from between his numb hands.

In his first second of regained self-control he decided that this
was somehow related to the earlier business in the locker room, and
the fact that it happened while he was looking at a naked picture of
his apparently incredibly well-endowed best friend was merely a
coincidence.

He glanced down at himself and gasped in horror.

The entire front of his pants was saturated with cum, rivulets of it
still visibly flowing down his pant legs. He could feel his boxers
clinging coldly to his thighs, and even his shirt tails were
dripping.

He groaned and made a mental note to see a doctor about all this as
soon as possible.

But in the meantime, what the hell was he going to do?

He started to pull his pants and boxers off, dripping all over the
floor.

He cursed and tried to rub the pools into the carpet with his feet.

Trying to remove the platforms, he found that for some reason he
couldn't get the laces undone, and just finally yanked his pants
past them.

He tore off his sodden shirt and tried to use the dry areas to clean
himself up.

Every inch of him had the musty reek of stale cum.

Standing almost naked in the principal's office, he experienced a
moment of pure nightmarish panic.

What the HELL was he going to do?!?

They would be back any minute!

Then he suddenly remembered his gym bag sitting just down the hall.
He had a change of clothes in there, if only he could get to it...

He thought briefly of making a dash for it: class was on, the
corridors would be mostly empty, but...

No, he couldn't take the chance of even one person seeing him like
this.

If only there was something that he could...

The answer hit him like a thunderbolt: there were clothes in the box
under the desk! He had seen some of them as he was rummaging around
- clothes that had been confiscated because they clashed with the
school's rigorous dress code.

Making a dive for the box, he searched through it madly. He found a
lacy red g-string, a micro-skirt, a girl's blouse and... he shouted
in exultation as he found a pair of very loose, baggy, lime green
shorts.

He pulled them past his platform shoes and around his waist,
breathing relief.

But wait, his dick was still completely erect with no signs of
sagging - it looked like he was carrying a fishing pole in his
pants!

If only there was something to hold it back...

Groaning, he grabbed the red thong and, flipping one of the strings
between his legs, tied them tightly behind his back.

Perfect, his manhood was now flattened against his leg.

He looked down at his tiny red tank top. It was so small and had two
noticeable little bumps where his nipples were poking through: it
really looked a lot like a training bra.

He had to hide it.

The girl's blouse was very small and tight. Fortunately it seemed to
be made from Spandex or something and stretched well. Strained to
its limits, it didn't look all that different from an ordinary shirt
- as long as you ignored the incredibly plunging neckline.

It would do.

Glancing at the door in fearful expectation, Harry looked for
something to carry his sodden clothes in.

He finally found a little handbag with 'Boy Toy!' written on it in
big pink letters.

It would have to do.

He desperately crammed his still dripping clothes into it.

And now to just run down the corridor and...

Disaster!

Looking down at his ill-fitting costume, Harry suddenly realised
that the lacy top of his g-string was poking up above his shorts.
Try as he might, he couldn't pull them up any further - the crutch
was unnaturally high.

Mewling in desperation, he grabbed the miniscule microskirt and
began pulling it up his legs. It wasn't much more than a pleated red
tartan belt. He pushed it under his shorts so that only the skirt's
hem was visible. It covered the tops of his little red g-string and
anyone would think it was just the top of a pair of boxers.

Gasping in relief that he was finally ready, he ran for the door.

He overbalanced and nearly fell on his face.

Looking down at his feet, he saw that the platforms looked different
somehow. The heel suddenly seemed much higher than the toes, and
they looked much more open...

Harry, however, was in too much of a panicked rush to give them much
thought.

He put his head to the door, listening.

Silence.

He opened it a crack and looked up and down the corridor.

No-one.

Sighing in relief, he looked down at his watch.

He would have to hurry - the class period would be ending in a few
minutes.

Throwing the door open he...

He tried to run but somehow the combination of his shoes, his thong,
and the strangely-fitting shorts managed to make it impossible.

He whimpered, taking tiny little steps, arms flailing as he tried to
keep his balance.

He was getting nowhere fast.

He pushed the little handbag up over one of his arms, and tried
harder for speed.

Breathing heavily, he suddenly heard a series off pops as all the
buttons burst off his straining blouse.

He glanced down to see...

Underneath, he was wearing a lacy red push-up bra, the perfect match
of his thong.

Squeaking in panic and disbelief, he tied the blouse's tails tightly
together at his bosom in an attempt to hide this inexplicable piece
of lingerie. He was only partly successful - the tops of its big
lacy cups and its long red shoulder straps were still plainly
visible.

In front of him the corridor seemed to stretch on forever.

His eye was drawn to his reflection in a passing glass door.

He gaped.

The make-up that the photographer had applied seemed completely
different in this light. Looking at his face, he could have sworn
that he was wearing tons of mascara, blush, eye-shadow, eye-liner,
the sluttiest red lipstick imaginable...

He had to get to that locker room.

He looked down at his legs, vaguely noticing the way that his socks
were suddenly stretched past his knees and now seemed somehow
translucent ...

And why could he only take these tiny little steps?

In a moment fuel by panic and desperation, he forced himself to take
a huge stride, straining against whatever it was that held him
back...

He heard a loud tear and something fell to the floor.

Looking down in horror, he saw the lime green shorts - torn almost
in half.

He was now mincing his way down the corridor in nothing but a little
crop-top and a tiny microskirt. It had slipped so that the front
dipped to just barely cover his crotch, leaving the tops of his lacy
red g-string clearly visible.

Reaching back in horror, he confirmed that it was riding high up on
his ass, baring it to the world.

With a little shriek, he tried to go as fast as his legs would
allow. But he found that he could still only take tiny little
delicate steps. He tried to force his legs to move faster, but found
that he was only increasing the sway of his hips and the wiggling of
his bare ass.

He forced himself forward in desperation, he was almost halfway
there.

The only sound in the corridor was the quick little tapping of his
heels as he madly minced his way along.

...and then the bell rang.

Harry squealed as every door burst open and crowds of his peers came
hurrying out.

Blushing furiously, he wiggled his way forward, against the throng.

Every eye was on him.

The girls stared at him, their faces wrinkling with disgust.

The boys stared at him in a strange different way, their eyes
dartingly between his hips, chest and face, an oddly familiar hungry
look in their eye.

"Look at that ass!"

He squealed as a passing boy reached out and tweaked one of his
swollen red nipples.

"Nice tits!"

He whimpered in beyond mortification as a chorus of whistles started
up behind him for his swaying ass.

"Shake it, Toots!"

People were following him, just staring at it.

One finally reached out and gave him a hard pinch.

He shrieked and tried to escape, but just set it jiggling even more.

Jeers and catcalls followed him everywhere, leering faces loomed
everyway he looked.

And then, just as he wanted to lay down and die, he saw his best
friend Steve coming through the crowd, staring at him.

He tried to scream out an explanation through all of the whistles
and shouted remarks, but Steve just walked right up to him and said,
"Hey Babe."

Before Harry could so much as blink, Steve had grabbed him around
the waist, forced their mouths together and begun to kiss him like
he had never been kissed before.

He tried to shriek, but Steve slipped his tongue down his throat.

He murmured desperately and tried to break free as Steve pushed his
back hard against a wall, to the shouted approval of every male
passerby.

As they kissed, he felt Steve's hand wander down and start
enthusiastically squeezing his ass. His eyes widened even further
when it wandered up to his chest, sliding into the big, empty cups
of his lacy push-up bra, fondling and massaging his hairy chest.

Harry fought desperately to get loose as Steve began pressing
himself tightly against him, but Steve seemed to misinterpret all of
his murmuring and struggling, and just pressed forward all the
harder.

An iron grip on Harry's arm finally managed to pull him free of
Steve's amorous embrace.

Gasping for air, Harry looked up at his rescuer. It was the
assistant principal.

Mr York frowned coldly at him. "You're wanted by the Principal," he
said sharply as he began dragging Harry along.

Harry, still straining for air, whimpered for him to slow down. His
tiny little steps weren't long enough to allow him keep up with Mr
York's hurried pace, he felt his ass wiggling uncontrollably behind
him as he struggled to keep up.

Mr York pulled the lagging Harry along after him, only stopping when
they stood in front of the principal's office.

He gave Harry, panting from the exertion, a firm push on his exposed
posterior, propelling him through the door.

Harry finally stumbled to a halt just in front of the principal's
desk.

"I think you know why you're here," the principle intoned without
looking up.

Harry looked down at her in confusion. Her voice was suddenly so
deep.

The principal finally glared up at him.

Harry gasped and stepped back. She had a thick moustache and a
rapidly receding hairline.

His eye suddenly fell once again on the sign sitting on her desk:

'Mr. Frostrup - School Principle'

"I think we should have a little talk about these photos in the
paper," Mr Frostrup growled, his eyes flashing.

He opened the paper sitting on his desk to page 3.

Harry looked down in open-mouthed horror and disbelief.

Under the large headline 'SCHOOLGIRL PHOTO SCANDAL' was a picture of
him, dressed exactly as he was now. He was on all fours with a
golden trophy perched on his back. It had 'Slut of the Year'
engraved across it in large letters.

He didn't seem to be paying much attention to it, though.

He looked much more interested in the several degrading sexual acts
that he was enthusiastically engaged in at the time.

He looked very happy.

Harry looked up at Mr Frostrup in shock.

But the principal cut him off before he could say a word. "Don't try
to deny it," he said wearily, "it's not like it's the first time that
you've done something like this... Don't you remember how last time
I carefully explained that people get mad when you post pictures
like that on the internet? I thought I'd made it so clear that even
you'd understand."

He looked down at it again, sighing.

"At least you're wearing something this time."

Harry, shaking his head in stunned incomprehension, tried to back
out of the room.

The principle grabbed his arm.

"Whatever am I going to do with you, Heidi?" he asked.

Harry didn't like the strange glint in his eye.

The principle tugged.

Harry gave a little shriek and completely lost his balance, falling
across Mr Frostrup's lap. He felt his legs waving helplessly, his
dainty high-heels swishing through the air. He was bent double, his
ass forced high up into the air. He could feel his tiny skirt
falling back, exposing it completely.

"You're a bad girl, Heidi!" Mr Frostrup shouted as his hand came
arcing down.

Harry squealed at the sudden pain, feeling his bare cheeks jiggling
from the impact.

"A very bad girl!"

Harry squealed again, an aching handprint across his buttocks.

"What are you?"

Harry shrieked as his spanking grew more intense.

"What are you?"

"I'm a bad girl!" Harry finally whimpered, hoping it would lessen
his pain.

"You're a naughty little bimbo slut!"

"I'm a naughty little bimbo slut!" Harry wailed, sobbing.

"Will you be a good girl?"

"I'll be a good girl!" he whined.

Harry struggled to his feet as he was released, sniffing and madly
rubbing at his aching behind.

He turned and tried to run from the room, but his high-heels tripped
him up and he fell forward across the principal's desk.

"Ooh! You are a naughty little girl, aren't you?" the principal
gloated, coming up behind him.

Whimpering, Harry tried to stand back up.

He heard something fall to the floor, then two big hands grasped him
around his waist, then...

Harry shrieked, his eyes bulging, his painted lips pressed into a
big red 'O'.

A cock was being forced up his ass, and... it felt... good.

He moaned in pleasure, his face contorted, and tried to angle
himself perfectly to receive it.

He felt his aching cheeks balloon around the principle's cock.

He felt his waist shrinking in its hard grip.

He brushed his lengthening blonde hair from his increasingly sexy
face as he squealed in joy at being fucked hard from behind.

His chest began to lift slightly from the table as the big, lacy
cups of his bra began to fill, then to overflow.

Oblivious to everything, Harry pushed back his head and screamed in
delight as a big, yummy man came hard, deep in his ass.



The door to the principal's office opened and Heidi Boytoy sexily
wiggled her way into the corridor. She looked very happy, despite
the way that she was gingerly rubbing her aching backside.

No one paid her any attention - it was a very common sight.

Well, actually, one person paid great attention...

Bill Kallis was doubled over laughing.

The girl looked over at him, her cascading blonde hair spilling
across her sexy little kitten face. She sized him up lustfully,
licking her big cock-sucking lips, her hands absently caressing the
incredible soft curves spilling from her almost nonexistent
uniform.

She started slowly moving towards him, but was distracted by another
boy that walked closer past her.

She spun on him, pouting and cooing hungrily.

"What's the matter, slut? Horny again so soon?" the boy jeered.

Heidi pressed herself against him, straining up on her little tippy-
toes to try to reach his sneering lips.

He finally smiled and let her swollen red lips connect with his.

She growled like a ravenous thing as she squeezed his tongue in her
mouth.

Bill watched, still shaking with mirth, as their kiss progressed.

Soon she was whimpering with desire, kneading her mountainous
breasts against his chest. He pressed her back hard against a wall,
she moaned and jumped up, wrapping her long legs around his waist as
she energetically rubbed herself against him.

His hand wandered back under her tiny little skirt and squeezed at
her bare ass.

Heidi giggled and forced his other hand into her tight little crop-
top...

Bill left them together in the corridor.

They looked like they could use some alone time.

Despite his previous experience, he was impressed by the paper's
effect. And the little scene that he had just witnessed in the hall
had put him in mind of his plan for the last one. He walked down to
the empty locker room where the paper was sitting in his bag. He
smiled to himself as he pulled it out and stared at it.

So much power in his hands.

The power to do anything.

Pulling out a pen, he began to write down the words that he had
decided on last night:

'BILL KALLIS is IRRESISTABLE'

The ache in his pants made him hope that this one would take effect
fast. Perhaps it would - it surely required less major changes than
his previous efforts.

The second that his pen left the paper it exploded into a cloud of
green flame.

He pulled his hand away, glad to see that it was unhurt.

None of the others had done THAT...

He briefly worried that it might be a dud, but then he suddenly
remembered the busker's warning about using several papers in quick
succession.

What was it that she said would happen?

But he had used the last one almost an hour ago - that was enough
time, surely?

The door swung open behind him.

Still lost in his vague concerns, he absently turned to see who had
come in.

His fears instantly evaporated.

Standing in the open doorway was Michelle Ruxton, the star
cheerleader.

She was dressed only in her skimpy underwear and was looking
straight at him with the most intense look of desire that he had
ever seen.

As Michelle began to sway her way towards him, more girls began
appearing behind her.

They were obviously coming from the girl's locker room next door. In
various states of undress, the girls wandered into the room, an
almost trance-like expression of lust frozen on their gorgeous
faces. Some of them must have been mid-way through a shower - they
swayed forward, completely naked and dripping wet, remnants of
shampoo in their hair.

Bill chuckled as the girls got close, forming a circle around him
and desperately pressing forwards. He laughed in their faces as they
grabbed at him, helplessly worshipping him with their every stare
and breathless moan.

He finally reached over and pulled Michelle's straining bra from her
overdeveloped chest, smiling at how she whimpered at his slightest
touch.

He pulled her to him, grabbing at her immense rack. She moaned in
total ecstasy as he kissed her, pressing her body hard against him.

Bill smiled as much as his intense make-out session would allow.
This is how life should be: and how it would be from now on.

He felt her big nipples swell even further as he squeezed them
between two fingers.

He would have whatever girl he wanted; if he saw her, he could have
her.

The desperate girls pressed in, gasping and wailing with desire. He
could feel their little hands straining to touch him, and could hear
their owner's shrieks of pleasure when they did.

He would have two (at least!) of the prettiest girls in the city
(no! In the world!) in his big bed every night, and they would beg
to be allowed to degrade themselves in anyway that they could.

He sighed as his mind crowded with delicious fantasies.

...But, wait...

Did that feel right?

He pulled his mind back to his current, undeniably pleasant
circumstances.

Michelle's breasts suddenly felt somehow wrong.

And what was that prickle that he was feeling from her upper lip?

He struggled and eventually managed to pull back from the girl's
kiss.

Looking up at her (up? When did she get so tall?), he saw stubble
sprouting from her pretty chin. He gasped and looked down at the
hard furry flesh that his hands were now wrapped around.

"Got a problem, bitch?" Michelle boomed down at him in her deepening
voice.

Bill looked madly away from the cheerleader's increasingly rugged
face to the other girls in the room.

Each one was already nearly a full head taller than him. Their
breasts were shrivelling on their chests and thick, dark hair was
growing in their place.

But one thing was unchanged: their manly faces still shone with lust
for him.

Bill squeaked in horror and tried to break free from Michelle's
suddenly muscular grip around his waist. He pushed vainly against
her rock-hard barrel chest, gazing pleadingly up at her big handsome
face.

She just laughed down at him.

"Oh, I think it's my turn!" a baritone voice chuckled behind Bill.
Arms like tree-trunks tore him from Michelle's clutch. He felt
himself being playfully pulled by the back of his shorts and
struggled to keep his balance.

He collided with a chest as wide and hard as a brick wall, he could
feel the muscles rippling beneath it with his cheeks.

He finally managed to look up, gasping for air.

A huge angular face leered down at him. "Stick with me, baby," it
laughed, "I get little sluts like you singing my name in no time."

Bill gasped as he was lifted from the floor, his feet wiggling
helplessly beneath him.

The enormous boy grinned lecherously at his expression and leaned
forward to kiss him. Bill made a stifled shriek as he felt an
immense writhing tongue being forced down his throat.

He tried to struggle, but was held in an iron grip.

He heard hoots and catcalls coming from all around him.

A big hand reached down and squeezed his ass.

Bill's eyes bulged as he felt his buttocks expand in this tight
grasp, his shorts splitting and shrinking until they left his ass
completely bare.

He thrashed and tried to cover his bouncing exposed cheeks with a
hand, but was still held immobile as his captor enthusiastically
slathered in his mouth.

He heard the riotous mirth as countless other hands reached down and
pinched and squeezed his pink flesh.

The hand wandered up to his chest and squeezed at his tiny little
hairy bosoms. The hair vanished and his breasts swelled monstrously
in the probing hands.

Bill gaped. He could feel hands fingering his lengthening hair,
caressing his blossoming figure, rubbing their way up his long,
hairless legs to the place where they met...

Bill gaped as there was a sudden, fiery explosion between his
thighs. He felt himself relaxing as a pleasant, tingling moisture
spread across his tight little panties.

Suddenly it all felt good.

The squeezing, the poking, the fingering...

He began kissing back with fierce vigour, getting hornier by the
minute, loving all of the little jeers and chuckled remarks as he
began rubbing himself against his big yummy boy.

And then the kissing stopped.

Bill whimpered as he was pulled from those sneering stubble-
encircled lips.

The big face sniggered down at him as the arm released its grip on
his waist.

He fell to the floor, landing on his knees.

He looked up pleadingly at all of the huge, hot boys laughing down
at him, completely oblivious to the tiny microskirt and little crop-
top that he was now wearing.

"Hey, slut!" one of the boys circled around him called out. "How do
you like this?"

Bill gaped as a pair of boxers were lowered to reveal...

He squealed and tried wiggling, still on his knees, towards the
impossibly huge, erect member now thrusting out at him.

The boys chortled in hysterics.

"What a little whore!"

"Make her beg!"

Bill, mouth open, reached for the vast cock swaying, teasingly, just
before him.

A hand pressed to his forehead, keeping him just out of reach.

Bill whimpered in mad desperation, struggling vainly forward.

"Hey! Bimbo!" a voice called from behind him.

All the boys began lowering their boxers to reveal an army of cocks,
each bigger than any average man's forearm.

Bill squealed in delight.

The hand fell from his forehead and he plunged his drooling mouth
over the head of the nearest, already dripping, cock.

Though he had to strain to fit it in his mouth, he moaned in pure
ecstasy as he forced it down his eager little throat.

The laughs of the crowd just somehow turned him on even more as he
sucked at it madly.

Once one had exploded in his mouth he moved joyously to the next -
delicious, sticky goodness streaming from his mouth faster than he
could swallow it.

He screamed his pleasure as he made the big boys come right in his
face, down his throat, across his big titties...

Sucking on cock after cock after big juicy cock, he lost all sense
of time in his love for boys, boyparts, and, most of all, yummy,
sticky, gooey boyjuice.

He tried giggling with a cock down his throat, and thrust his big
ass out, letting them fuck him hard from behind as he went on
slurping.

Why couldn't he be alone with the football team more often?



The door to the boy's locker room opened and Bambi Boytoy sexily
wiggled her way into the corridor. She looked very happy, despite
the way that she was almost glistening with drying cum.

No one paid her any attention - it was a very common sight.

Well, actually, one person paid great attention...

Licking her lips and softly cooing her satisfaction, Bambi turned
and saw her twin sister, Heidi, mincing prettily towards her.

"Mmm..." Heidi purred, "you smell like fun..."

Bambi giggled. "Ooh! So do you..."

The two twins, dressed in identical little sexy nothings, pressed
themselves tightly together.

They murmured and giggled their delight as they playfully licked at
one another, their pretty little heads straying down one another's
necks and into their cleavages as they enjoyed the yummyness still
clinging to each other's skin.

Finally, softly moaning, they kissed, each taking turns sucking on
the other's tongue, loving the delicious aftertaste of cock that
remained there.

"Hey! You little skanks!"

The two girls gasped as they woke from their orgasmic reverie.

Still clinging to each other, they pulled their lips apart and gazed
lustfully down the hall to the group of boys gaping there.

Without a word they broke apart and began to wiggle their bare
asses towards them, purring sexily.

Though they had been through this countless times before, the boys
could still only stare in numb disbelief as the Boytoys, the
richest, skankiest, most totally irresistible girls in the school -
no, in the whole wide world - came teetering hungrily towards them.

They were in for a good night.