"Depraved Sluts 101"
--------------------

Lisa ran as fast as her 4" pumps could take her. Alongside her, she
half-guided, half-dragged her 15 year old sister Amy. The girls were
dressed for school: Lisa in her black demi bra, matching thong panties,
black garters and fishnet hose and her stiletto heels. Amy, having had her
bra privileges revoked this week, had only a pink g-string and her platform
sandals. Her right hand was in Lisa's, being dragged along, while with her
left arm Amy tried to restrain her generous 34-D breasts from bouncing all
over creation (without much success).

Save for the huge globs of cum dripping off of Amy and Lisa's faces, they
looked for all the world as if they'd jumped off the pages of the
Frederick's of Hollywood catalog and into a marathon.

"Need to rest," Amy gasped.

"Keep running," Lisa demanded curtly.

"Please," Amy whined between breaths, "just for a minute...."

"Shut up and quit wasting your breath. Keep going."

The girls had been running for a mile straight now, and were about
two-thirds of the way to school. When the depraved morning threesome had
ended with the sisters teaming up for a double blowjob with an accompanying
double sperm facial, Brian had left, reminding the girls that school began
in ten minutes. There had been no need to also remind them of the penalty
for being late. The sisters had wanted to clean themselves up, and Amy
desperately needed to gargle to get rid of the aftertaste of her sister's
cunt, but there simply hadn't been time.

Lisa was startled by a noise from her left. A red Camaro convertible was
marking time beside the girls.

"Mmmmmm, running in these heels is so GOOD!" Lisa exclaimed happily.

"So....GOOD...." was all Amy could gasp.

"Get your hand off your titties," Brian growled. "Let them bounce
naturally."

Amy obediently brought her arm down. Tit flesh immediately began flying
everywhere.

"Bouncing... (GASP) ...so... GOOD!!" Satisfied, Brian accelerated and drove
off toward the school.

As it turned out, Lisa and Amy arrived at school just in time. The girls in
the class, all in various stages of undress, had already taken their seats.
None of them gave a second glance at the disheveled, cum-drenched sisters
who sprinted in just before the final bell rang.

The young Miss Foster was already at her desk, clad in her translucent
purple teddy in stark contrast to her wire-rimmed glasses and her hair
neatly arranged in a severe-looking bun. Behind her was a standard
chalkboard, on which was neatly written 100 times "I WILL NOT BEND AT THE
KNEES WHEN PICKING THINGS UP!" Except for one portion, which was boxed off
and labeled "RESEARCH PROJECTS -- DUE FRIDAY!!!" with a few "options"
listed below it, including: "DO SLUTTY CLOTHES PROMOTE GANG RAPE??" and
"THE BENEFITS OF AN ALL-SPERM DIET" and "USING YOGA TO GIVE YOURSELF ORAL
SEX".

Just as it did every morning, a look of hopelessness crossed Vickii
Foster's face as she glanced at the class' only male student. Her smile
grew even wider to compensate.

"Good morning, class! Um... let's begin, shall we? Did everybody do their
homework?" The class momentarily dissolved into twenty-five hearty
disclaimers about how they'd all done their homework, and what a GOOD
assignment it had been.

"GOOD," Miss Foster continued. "Do I have any volunteers to read their
essays in front of the class?"

Twenty-five hands shot up eagerly. Everyone commented on how GOOD it would
be to get up in front of the entire class, and discuss "Who Is The Biggest
Slut In My Class, And Why?" In this case, the enthusiasm was not entirely
manufactured... after all, this beat the hell out of "My Secret Lesbian
Fantasy About My Mother", which had been yesterday's topic. (Extra credit
had been given to the students who had actually acted upon said fantasy.)

"Marcie, why don't you go first." Miss Foster called on a redheaded,
freckled girl in the front row who was wearing only a pair of crotchless
white lace panties.

In her previous life, Marcie Thomas had been a mousy, quiet girl with a 4.0
GPA, horn rimmed glasses, a weight problem, and no friends, social life or
fashion sense whatsoever. Her only recreational outlet had been her secret
hobby of writing x-rated stories.

Since the new life had begun, Marcie had been through some drastic changes.
Her GPA of course didn't matter anymore. Her glasses were no longer
needed... Marcie was nearsighted, and this had no effect on her ability to
see whatever hard cock or wet cunt she was called upon to service. Her
obesity had been cured, not so much by the physical fitness standard chart
which had been given to every girl in the class (if the extra pounds don't
go away, YOU'LL go Away...), but by the humiliation of her appearance in
the risque lingerie which was part of the school Dress Code. Social life
was simple--Marcie now fucked when she was told to fuck, licked where she
was told to lick. Fashion sense was also a no-brainer--pop open the
Frederick's of Hollywood catalog to a random page, pick a model and dress
like her.

And her secret smut writing was, of course, no longer secret at all, since
Marcie had acknowledged how GOOD it would be to read her works to the
entire class. One of the stories, "Raping the Prom Queen" (written in anger
by Marcie after Stacey Adamson had squirted ketchup all over the crotch of
Marcie's white dress, right in front of everyone in the cafeteria), had
even been rewritten as a play and performed before the entire school, with
Marcie "winning" the leading role. She'd never felt more humiliated in her
life, and had been on the verge of breaking down throughout the
"performance"... until the conclusion of the play, and the thunderous
ovation she'd received. (She'd been so moved that she'd spontaneously
orchestrated a quick "encore" right then and there, with the football
players who had been her co-stars.)

All in all, Marcie had thought to herself with a smile on many occasions,
maybe this *GOOD* life wasn't so bad.

"Ummmm...." Marcie cleared her throat as she stood in front of the class.
The silence was unusual for her. When she'd stood up, there had been no
titter or giggle from the back of the class. No spitwads or paper airplanes
being hurled at her. No random whispers of "Nerd-ZILLA!" which had, until a
few months ago, followed Marcie everywhere she went since third grade.

She began reciting from her paper. "The biggest slut in this class...is
LISA."

Lisa cringed. NerdZilla was again paying her back for all the years of
torment, in grade school and high school. Just like she did every chance
she got. Lisa looked straight ahead and widened her fake smile.

Marcie didn't have to fake hers. "As anyone who has ever been to the diner
knows, our little Lisa loves to fuck and suck ANYTHING she can get her
hands on. Of course, that's *nothing* compared to what Lisa likes to do
when she goes HOME..."

No, please, Lisa thought, glancing over at Amy. The younger girl's phony
smile was more like a grimace. DAMMIT, 'zilla, what did *Amy* ever do to
you?

"...always wanted to do it with her sister," Marcie was saying, "and now
she has an EXCUSE to!"

A titter ran through the class. Marcie stiffened imperceptibly... but then
realized that it wasn't for her.

"Little sis doesn't seem to mind one bit, though! She's a fucking tramp
too! But then, consider who her role model is!"

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH...." The interruption came from Miss Foster, who had
pulled the material of her teddy aside and was shamelessly finger fucking
her cunt.

"Still... Amy is only fifteen, and she's already more of a woman than Lisa
will ever be," Marcie waved her hand at Amy's big tits. "Damn, how must
that make Lisa feel?"

Amy straightened slightly at the semi-compliment.

"Lisa has been a slut for as long as I can remember!" Marcie wasn't even
reading from the paper any more. "But don't take *my* word for it. Look at
her! Look at them *both*! That's not styling gel in their hair and all over
their faces..."

Marcie sat down as everyone began laughing and applauding. Lisa, knowing
that she was being carefully watched, put her hands together as well as she
continued smiling.

"Thank you," Vickii, her breathing slightly labored, praised Marcie. "That
was a very GOOD essay!"

Next came Emily, who had once been head cheerleader. Her nominee for
"biggest slut", predictably enough, was Miss Foster. THe teacher had once
reported Emily for cheating on an exam, thus ending the girl's tenure with
the cheerleading squad. Emily's report described how Vickii Foster had
never married, simply because she'd then be limited to intercourse with
just one man. Then she mentioned Miss Foster's constant rubbing and
fingering of her cunt, pausing to grab the young teacher's hand and suck
the incriminating juices off of her glistening fingers, thus proving
Emily's point.

"And," Emily finished, "our dear Miss Foster has had it in for me ever
since I came by after school, and saw her fucking three of the football
players." (Miss Foster gasped at the blatant lie and began to protest, then
she remembered where she was.) "She got back at me by fucking my boyfriend
and getting me thrown off the cheerleading squad. Told me that if I didn't
keep my mouth shut, she'd have me expelled from school!"

Miss Foster could only grin stupidly as everyone applauded. "GOOD story,"
she intoned.

After a few more essays, it was time to move on.

"OK, class," Miss Foster announced, "our special topic for today is," she
checked her daily planner, "...anal sex!"

Twenty-five false smiles faltered. Then, everyone simultaneously agreed
that this was a GOOD idea.

Miss Foster produced a box from behind her desk. Inside the box were an
assortment of dildos, one of which was a strap-on. It was this one which
Vickii chose and fastened around her slim waist. "Now, I need one
volunteer!" Twenty-five hands went up eagerly. The teacher's eyes narrowed,
and she made her selection. "Emily!"

The ex-cheerleader cringed. She was clearly about to get paid back for her
lies about Miss Foster.

"Just hop up here, dear!" Emily was directed into position on the teacher's
desk, on all fours. "It's GOOD that you volunteered for this!" As Vickii
applied a smearing of KY Jelly to her finger, then began working it into
Emily's tight ass, she sighed. "Mmmmmmm, so tight! That's GOOD! We'll be
able to give a *GOOD* fast and furious demonstration for the rest of the
class!" The underlying threat to literally tear Emily a new asshole did not
escape the teenager.

"Yes," she acknowledged, wincing as Miss Foster worked a second finger up
her ass, "and what's also *GOOD* is that afterward, we'll switch! Then I'll
be able to give a GOOD demonstration on you!" The young schoolteacher only
sneered with indifference. She'd been taking it up the ass since she was
15.

"Now," Miss Foster beamed, "we only have the one strap-on! But there are
enough dildos for everybody. Cyndi, will you pass them out, please?"

"Oh, I would LOVE to, Miss Foster!" Cyndi Marshall bubbled. Clad only in a
spiked collar, leather corset and matching knee-high leather boots, she
scampered to obey. Everyone else in the class let out an imperceptible sigh
of disgust. Cyndi Marshall had been "teachers pet" for as long as anyone
could remember.

Since the time of change, that title--which was engraved on a plate on the
front of Cyndi's collar--had taken on entirely new meaning.

After her parents had been sent Away, Cyndi had moved in with her teacher.
She'd wait on Miss Foster hand and foot, often giving the young teacher
tongue baths while she graded papers or watched the x-rated movies which
were broadcast twenty-three hours a day by Brianville's only TV station.
Then, after receiving a good fucking courtesy of Vickii's strap-on dildo
(doggy style, naturally), Cyndi would diligently curl up at the foot of her
favorite teacher's bed. Of course, this had changed when Cyndi had finished
work on the wooden doghouse she'd been made to construct in shop class....

Row by row, Cyndi stopped at each desk and deposited a dildo and a tube of
KY jelly. Every girl's response was pretty much the same:

"THANK you, Cyndi! This will feel so GOOD in my tight ass!"

...until she got to Amy's desk. When the dildo was placed in front of Amy,
the 15 year old girl found that she couldn't say a word. When Lisa looked
over, she saw why.

With the exception of Amy, all the girls in the class had been given 8"
flesh-colored dildos, about 2" thick. In other words, the size of an
average cock.

Amy's plastic cock, however, was black in color, a full foot long, and
twice as thick as the others. It would have made a black man proud--and,
under normal circumstances, would have made a 15-year old white girl scream
and run the other way, especially considering the virginal orifice it was
intended for.

But these, of course, were not normal circumstances.

Cyndi smirked as she returned to her desk.

There was a general dislike for the teacher's pet... but the class despised
Amy even more. At 15, she was the youngest girl in the class--everyone else
was 17 at least, and Amy was only here because of Brian's seeming fixation
with her. She was consequently less mature than the rest of the girls in
the class, and hadn't adapted as well to this new life of torment and
servitude. On many occasions, the entire class had been punished for Amy's
mistakes... so it was understandable that the younger teen was often
singled out for the more degrading and/or painful punishments.

But still--Lisa couldn't allow this. Amy was already on the verge of a
breakdown, and this would surely drive her over the edge... and Lisa knew
all too well what tragic consequences this would bring with it. So, when
she thought nobody was watching, Lisa reached over and swapped her 8" dildo
with her sister's 12" one.

But somebody *was* watching.

"Lisa. Amy." His voice was, as always, very quiet. Deadly quiet.

On trembling knees, Lisa stood. Amy followed suit.

"Lisa and Amy...did you have permission to switch your supplies?" Miss
Foster was stern and authorative--that is, as stern and authorative as
possible for a teacher wearing a sheer purple teddy and an enormous
strap-on dildo, and kneeling on her desk preparing to ass-fuck one of her
students.

"Um....no..." Lisa muttered.

"N-no ma'am..." Amy echoed.

"You'll have to be punished," Miss Foster intoned.

The sisters spoke nearly in unison. "Yes...punishment is *GOOD*!"

In truth, Vickii was saddened by Amy's forced presence here and the extra
torment she unwittingly drew to herself. The teacher had had the 15 year
old in her third period history class--back when she had been a real
teacher, and before her class had been transformed into Depraved Sluts 101.
Vickii rather liked Amy.

Nevertheless, she had her orders, and knew what was expected of her.

"Come up here. Both of you. Bring your toys." Miss Foster had now slid a
finger up Emily's cunt, in addition to the three which she now had in the
rebellious teen's ass. This left the former cheerleader in the throes of a
curious mixing of pleasure and pain.

Amy and Lisa were directed to a heavy table, which had been dragged in from
the science lab. Obediently, the girls mounted the table in the 69
position, Amy clutching the 8" phallus and Lisa gripping its larger, black
counterpart.

"Now," Miss Foster ordered primly, "each of you will break in your partner,
using the toy you have in your hand..." She removed her fingers from
Emily's cunt and ass, and got into position behind the troubled youth. "The
rest of you will begin lubricating yourselves, while you watch this
demonstration... Are there any questions?"

Two hands shot up from the lab table. One of them clutched an obscenely
huge 12" dildo.

"No, Lisa and Amy," Vickii answered the question before it was asked, "you
will NOT be allowed to use any lubrication..."