The new Stacy was also looking for a guy to fuck. She stood in a corner of the gym next to the door leading to the boy’s locker room, playing absently with her heavily decorated charm bracelet (thirty-three bright, shiny "F"s), and scanning the crowd for a likely candidate. She tried to be inconspicuous as she looked around; she had already run into one of her previous "partners" in the parking lot, and had been forced, upon his request, to give him a blow-job. A crumpled, sticky five dollar bill in her purse testified to his willingness to pay. If any others saw her in here - particularly dressed as she was - she would probably have to serve them as well. The blow-job had been made all the more unpleasant by the fact that she had been unable to drink any of the scotch prepared for her by Gary. Without the excitement caused by the drugs, it had been a humiliating and painful event. She was not going to be caught unprepared again. After wiping the sperm off her face (she had been unable to swallow all of it), she had taken a number of swigs from the flask in her purse. Already, she was feeling the warm tingle at the base of her stomach, and her breathing was becoming quick and shallow.
She scanned the crowd, desperate as she became more and more excited. Who to fuck?
Gary looked on, smiling as he saw Stacy - dressed up like some kind of wet dream - call someone over to her. It was Paul Baxter, from grade 12. A tall guy with glasses and bad skin; kind of quiet. He watched as Stacy pulled him closer and whispered something in his ear. A few second later, Paul blushed a furious red, but allowed himself to be led into the locker room. The couple disappeared from sight.
"She’s found one already?" Gary turned. Sharon had come up behind him as he had been watching Stacy at work. The short girl was holding a glass of punch. She was almost shouting to be heard over the roar of the band.
"Yeah," he answered, shouting in reply. "Paul Baxter; from Rhenquist’s French class."
"Didn’t take long," Sharon commented, taking a swallow of spiked punch.
Gary grinned at her. "Not the way you dressed her up tonight. Nice job."
Sharon nodded at the compliment, but didn’t return the grin. Something was bothering her. "You’ve made it too easy for her," she complained. "The drugs make it too much fun. She’s enjoying herself too much."
Gary’s grin just widened. "Well," he answered, "maybe I should let you in on a little secret." He looked around, as if anyone could hear them over the band. Sharon just stared at him, waiting.
"After the first couple of weeks, I stopped putting the drugs in the scotch. Since the end of January, she’s just been drinking the scotch. Straight."
Sharon’s eyes widened in surprise. "But… that’s two weeks now. She hasn’t said… she didn’t…"
"Right," Gary interrupted. "That’s the beauty of it. She gets horny now completely on her own. All it takes is a little scotch, and she’s ready to jump into bed with anybody. Soon, I’m going to start changing the type of alcohol. By the end of the year, she’ll turn into a slut every time she touches a drop of alcohol. It’s all part of the training."
Sharon’s surprise turned into amusement. "Gary," she chuckled, "that’s perfect." She began to laugh outright.
"What’s so funny?" It was Neil. He was already half drunk.
Gary looked over at the laughing Sharon. "You tell him," he suggested to her. "I think I’ll send a few more guys Stacy’s way. I think I see the Schaefer brothers."
He turned and walked off as Sharon began to explain to Neil exactly what it was that was so funny.
Frank Schaefer shoved open the swinging door to the locker room and ponderously squeezed his bulk through the doorway. He was followed closely by his younger brother, Simon. The Schaefer brothers were both extremely fat - each weighing over 250 pounds - and would have been fatter still if they had not been quite as tall as they were. Still, even at well over six feet, they were each enormously obese. They were a number of years older than the other students at Greenwood, having been frequently held back grades while their contemporaries advanced and graduated. Their size was matched only by their stupidity, and they had become something of a joke at Greenwood. Fortunately for them, that same size protected them from any real bullying, and they were generally left alone. That was why they were so surprised when Gary approached them at the dance and suggested that it might be a good idea for them to go into the locker room "to check things out". They had been puzzled at this, but they found most things puzzling, so they just shrugged their shoulders and ambled into the locker room.
They were greeted by the sound of a female voice as they moved slowly down the short passageway leading to the main changing room.
"Oh… yes… yes… yes."
The voice was low and hoarse with lust. The Schaefer brothers hurried forward as best they could and peered around the corner into the main part of the room.
"Oh yes… fuck me… fuck me…"
It was Stacy Richards! The brothers looked on in amazement. Some guy was lying back on a bench while Stacy Richards - THE Stacy Richards - slid up and down on his hard cock. Her short skirt was pulled up around her waist, and they could clearly see where the cock slid in and out of her moist cunt.
"Oh… oh… oh…"
She had stopped formulating words, and was just panting and whimpering as the pace sped up. Stacy’s pretty, blue blouse was undone and she was frantically mauling her own tits. Her chest glistened with sweat as her lithe body bobbed up and down like a yo-yo on the impaling cock.
"Holy cow!" Simon, the younger of the two brothers, was unable to contain himself. Frank swatted him on the back of the head, but it was too late; the damage was done.
Stacy stopped bouncing and looked up in shock. Someone was watching! Beneath her, Paul struggled, trying to sit up. She fought to hold him down - he was just about to come! - but when he saw Frank and Simon standing there with their mouths gaping open, he cursed and scrambled back along the bench. His cock pulled out of Stacy’s sopping pussy just before he came, spraying sperm onto her stomach and legs.
"No!" Stacy grabbed at it and tried to push it back into her cunt before it stopped spraying; IT DIDN’T COUNT unless he came inside of her. But Paul was too quick, twisting out from under her and scrambling quickly to his feet. Flushing red with embarrassment, he pulled his pants up, pushed blindly past the Schaefer brothers and ran out the door and into the gym. There was a brief surge of bad rock music, and then the door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang.
Stacy sat straddling the bench, panting with rage and frustration as the still-warm sperm dribbled down her stomach and coagulated in her pussy hair. IT DIDN’T COUNT! And she was still so horny…