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New Title: Cheerloathing

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What erotica site is complete without a good slutty cheerleader story? Today, we're getting our first one. And it's a big one. By the time I finished revisions and editing, this book ended up just slightly longer than The Second Place Sister, minus the bonus content. The story of Cheerloathing unfolds over 61 chapters. Skip past all my blah, blah, if you're ready to just get going on the preview. You'll get an introduction to three of our main characters in these preview chapters. Those are Sara, Lizzy, and Carrie. If you actually care about my rambling nonsense, read on, and thank you!

For lovers of incest, reluctance, betrayal, family seduction, and girls destroying the lives of other girls, this one's for you. This book is sort of a spiritual successor to The Second Place Sister. In fact, as far as a cast of characters goes, this might be the most well-rounded set of fictional personalities since that book. The tone and themes are also written in the same way but with a bit more polish. It's sort of like Second Place Sister, minus Cindy for comic relief. I'm not super duper, but I'm a better storyteller than I was in 2015, cranking out my first book.

Sara, this story's villain, is undoubtedly the most deranged, unhinged, and downright evil slut that I've ever done. If you thought Stephanie Hamlin was a psychotic bitch, wait until you meet Sara. Sara is much like Stephanie Hamlin mixed with Stacy from Tempting Trevor, that is to say psychotic, seductive, evil, manipulative, cruel, and seriously fucked in the head. I'd say she's got more problems than a jetliner packed with school children, with all engines out over the Pacific.

What made Stephanie Hamlin a good villain, in my opinion, was that she was relatable and sympathetic. She had a valid, albeit twisted, reason in her mind for doing what she did. It might not be a motivation that we agree with, and it was reprehensible, but it was relatable.

Sara is written in the same vein. She's the product of a lifetime of being pushed so hard toward success and the spotlight, that something in her head just snapped. Many people go through that, living with an expectation of greatness that exists as constant pressure. Failures, no matter how small they might seem, are often devastating. When those failures inevitably come, the effects can be equally devastating in the reaction to those failures. She also has other, more sinister reasons for her desire not to lose what she's gained.

It was because of that depth of character that my "little cheerleader story" took on a life of its own and became this. She was just so fun and intriguing to write, and the completely vile parts of her just kept pushing this story further.

Whether she's out to humiliate and destroy her rivals or cock-teasing her own father into incestuous temptation, Sara will stop at nothing to be the captain of her squad and keep her twisted secrets. Even if that means also destroying the lives of Diana and her entire family.

Erotica might seem an odd place to develop characters and include things like plot, backstory, and emotion. But, if you're reading this stuff then I guess you like it as much as I do. Thanks for that. I hope you'll enjoy the words.

While this is not an official title in the DomCo timeline, it does exist in the same universe. This is made very apparent with a few little DomCo and iFem drops. First, you'll get a new song from Bratty Britt. Second, a guest appearance by Dr. Swell and Valerie/Rapetoy from The Second Place Sister, Valerie: A NewYou Story, and Korrupting Kayla: Book Two. Lastly, there is a small easter egg in the ending featuring none other than Tori Hamlin herself. That little bit is something of a preview for what's coming in the endgame of the DomCo series. It's also a quirky little way for me to let you know what I think about all of you. Wait! It's nice! Really! And I mean that. Thank you for sticking around through all the weird shit I put out there to rot your minds with.

Finally, there will be a follow-up story to this book, sort of like A Hamlin Family Interlude. It will be at least novella length, and follow the fates of two of this story's main characters. Make it to the end, and you'll understand why. It was something that couldn't be left untold.

The promo trailer has also been completely redone to fit the expanded scope and mood of this book.

The Sexy Female Cast


Diana and Carrie



The burgeoning town of Shoreside Shoals is a place filled with secrets. A confused girl behind the walls of the Shoreside Mental Health Hospital. A tight-knit kink group called The Circle. An unethical doctor running heinous experiments. And a disturbed cheerleader at the top of her game, willing to do anything to keep her place in the limelight.

​ When Diana's family moves into town, they quickly find themselves befriended by Sara. To all outward appearances, the gorgeous cheerleader is welcoming, friendly, and inviting. Beneath the bubbly, sexy exterior, however, lies a devious and twisted mind. It's a mind filled with paranoia, rage, jealousy, and secrets.

​ The secrets surrounding Sara's past are linked to many of the others in the town. Diana doesn't realize that by simply pursuing her passion for cheer, she's drawn her entire family into Sara's twisted delusions and become a threat.

​ Now, Sara's determined to obliterate her rival and everyone she loves. Through manipulation, seduction, deceit, and betrayal, Diana will learn exactly how Sara stays on top. And as Shoreside Shoals' secrets begin to come to light, Diana's entire family will see just what it means to be loathed by a force as relentless as Sara.

​ Kinks Served: Incest, Betrayal, Seduction, Humiliation,

Personality Modification, Degradation, Bondage, Exhibitionism, Slut Transformation, Teasing, F/F, Group Sex, Gangbang, Consensual NonCon, NonCon, Reluctance, Orientation Kink

Chapter Headings

Length: 137K words, 61 chapters

1.The Daddy Dynamic

2.The Golden Rose

3.Bad Teammate

4.Rocking the Boat

5.Team Bitch


7.The Bad Daughter

8.A Need to Read


10.Raised Stakes

11.Unethical Treatment

12.Fair Day

13.The Twisted Sister

14.The Worm

15.Day Zero

16.Kim's Confusion

17.The Devil at the Door

18.Tempt Thy Father

19.Kim's Temptation

20.Neglected Hubby


22.Sara's Surprise

23.Kim's Seduction

24.Double Date

25.The Paddled Princess

26.Corrupting Carrie

27.Golf Buddy

28.Diana's Disgrace

29.Sister Swap


31.Sneaky Suck

32.Bench Session

33.The Split

34.The Win

35.Diana's Descent


37.The Bestie

38.The Invitation

39.We All Have Secrets

40.Out Late

41.Diana's Decline

42.Slutty Thoughts

43.Double Di

44.Carnal Knowledge

45.Leashed Lesbian

46.The Chat

47.Carrie Sullivan: P.I.

48.Diana's Downfall



51.Broken Mirrors

52.Too Far

53.Carrie's Suspicions

54.The Treatment





59.Plan A

60.Plan B


Cheerloathing Cover

Preview Chapters


Chapter One: The Daddy Dynamic

Sara stood in front of the vanity mirror and primped her blond hair, then took her diamond studs and put them in the jewelry box. She caught the motion in the partially-open bedroom door and gave her tits a little lift just for show. Daddy couldn't help himself, and it was always so fucking obvious.

"You might as well just come in and look, instead of perving from the doorway like some kind of sick peeper," she called.

The door opened and her father poked his head around it. His face was flushed and Sara could see the bulge of his cock as he stepped inside, even though he awkwardly tried to cover it with his hands. Why he even tried, she couldn't understand. He stepped up behind her and slid his hands around her waist.

The hands rested on her exposed tummy, just below the cut of her form-fitting cheer top, but it took him only a second to slide them further up. They covered her tits and squeezed them softly. His hard-on poked into her ass through her skirt.

"I told you before," she said, "if the door's open you can come in and look."

Then she reached up and put her hands on his, pushed them into her tits, and then yanked them away, chiding him, "But that isn't an invitation to touch, you dirty fuck."

She wheeled around and slapped him across the face, delighting in his gasp of arousal and the following whine of discomfort from his hard dick. She pushed him back a step and leaned back against the vanity.

"Say you're sorry, Daddy. Say you're sorry for perving on me and you can have these to jerk off with when I leave."

She raised her cheer skirt and hooked her thumb into the waistband of her panties. His eyes fell on the little patch of cloth and she could see his imagination painting the image of the sexy, tight, slippery treasure just underneath.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, "for perving on you."

Sara took a step closer, putting her arms around his neck and leaning up on her toes. Her breasts crushed into his chest as her pink lips brushed his ear.

"Jason was here just before you got home," she whispered. "My panties are full of cunt and spunk right now."

She took his hand and guided it between her legs, pushing his fingers into the sodden crotch of her panties. She knew he'd feel the wet squish, the remains of the hot fucking she'd taken recently, under his trembling fingers.

"It's too bad you were late from work," she whispered, pushing his fingers into her cunt, working the wet crotch of the panties into it along with them. "I tried to wait, so you could stand outside my door and touch your cock while he fucked me. It was really hot."

Her father groaned and she felt a tremor of jealous arousal shudder through him as her hand on his neck brushed the little hairs. She let his hand go but he continued to gently push the panties up her fuckhole, the wet remains of her fuck session squishing out around them to coat his fingers.

"He was really rough with me, the way I like. Not just with my pussy, either. He made me suck his cock for him and he was super mean about it."

"Oh, god…"

"He called me names and made me cry, Daddy, really gross names. Bitch. Cunt. Cock sucker. He really shoved that dick into my mouth hard, the way you wish you could."

"Did he… did he cum in… in your mouth?"

Sara giggled and whispered, "Yeah, and then he got hard again and came in my pussy. But you can feel that, right?"

She moved her lips over his and gave him a soft peck, then pulled back and looked into his eyes.

"Take them off," she said. "Take off my panties and you can use them after I leave."

Her father knelt in front of her. Sara lifted her skirt. His shaking hands slipped into the waistband of the sexy panties and he peeled them down her legs. Sara lifted her feet and let him take them off. She reached behind her, took her spanks from the vanity, and pulled those up her legs, while her father stood, flushed and horny, looking at her messy panties.

She pressed herself against him again, one hand sliding around his neck and the other rubbing his cock through his pants.

"If you can manage not to jerk off until I get home, I'll let you do it and watch me in the shower. Would you like that? Would you like to look at my tits and my ass while I wash them?"

She felt him nod and audibly gulp.

"If you jerk off, I'll know, won't I?" she whispered.


"Are you going to do it?"


"We'll see about that," she said and laughed. "I have to go."

Sara let her father go, picked up her purse and phone, and then slid it open and tapped at the screen.

"Good luck," she said and kissed his cheek as his phone pinged in his pocket.

She brushed past him and went out the door, leaving her father with a hard dick and sex-wet panties in his hand. He fumbled the phone from his pocket and hurried to look at the message she'd sent. It contained a video. He clicked.

The image of his daughter's face filled the screen.

"Good luck not jerking off," the video Sara said with an evil smile.

She stepped back and he could see her room, this room, from the viewpoint on top of the vanity. His daughter was nude as she joined a young man on her bed. Jason. He was standing on the bed with his naked cock out.

Sara knelt in front of him and the young man took a fistful of her blond hair in his hand and guided her wet mouth to his prick. She squeaked as he forced its hard length into her and pulled her by the hair down his shaft until she sputtered and her lips touched his crotch. There, he held her as he made sharp, hard thrusts into her throat.

"You raised a pretty good cockslut," Jason called to the camera. "Look at what she can do. The cock sucker hardly even gags. Watch this."

Jason pulled his spit-coated cock from Sara's mouth and then plunged it back in roughly. Sara moaned but didn't choke. He did it again, and again, commencing a rough, hard fucking of Sara's face that soon had streams of thick spittle running from her chin to drip onto her tits. Sara took it all without so much as a cough, gag, or sputter.

Jason buried his cock in her throat again and held it there, while he issued a light slap to her face.

"Tell daddy you love sucking cock, cunt," he ordered and slid his dick from her mouth.

With his fist in her hair, he turned Sara's wet, teary-eyed face toward the camera and began to slap his cock against her cheek.

"I love sucking cock so much, Daddy," she said.

Jason pushed his cock back into her mouth, pushing his cockhead into her cheek and making it bulge obscenely as he held her hair.

"Do you think daddy's proud of you, cock sucker?"

Sara said, "Yeth," around his stiff prick and drooled on her tits. "He'th tho pwoud ug be."

Jason laughed and redirected his cock sucker's mouth toward servicing his pole once more. Sara's father hadn't even realized that his own cock was out and his daughter's panties were wrapped around it until he felt the sudden burst of orgasmic pleasure from his cock and added his own load to the panties. He groaned at the realization of his failure. Again.


Chapter Nine: Lizzy

Lizzy was having a good day because she woke up and she was Lizzy. It wasn’t always that way but it was most of the time now. Most days, she thought that she was sane enough to leave Shoreside Mental Health Hospital. That decision, however, was up to Dr. Welcome, and for thirteen years, Dr. Welcome disagreed.

So, Lizzy woke up and she showered, then put on a fresh pair of the facility-issued scrubs and waited for the duty nurse to unlock the door to her room. Today’s duty nurse was Nurse Barbara and she had Lizzy’s pills. Nurse Barbara also had a magazine, which was one of Lizzy’s favorite parts. Nurse Barbara had been the one to teach her how to read in those early years, and when Nurse Barbara had permission to give her a magazine, that meant she was doing well.

Lizzy took the red pill for the headaches and the blue pill for nightmares. The white pill had replaced the green pill a year ago, and this one was supposed to help with her anger. It mostly worked. Lizzy didn’t get angry so much these days. The white pill did make her feel weird, though, between the legs. A lot of the time, she felt so weird that she had to touch herself until it felt better.

The red, blue, and white pills reminded Lizzy of the colors on the flag that waved outside the common room window, the only window that looked outside. Nurse Kevin, who didn’t work here anymore, told Lizzy that the flag symbolized freedom, equality, and individualism. He’d laughed when she’d asked him a silly question.

“Why do they put it out there if everyone here is none of those things?”

Nurse Kevin had clapped her kindly on the shoulder and replied, “Now that’s a question.”

It was a question but Lizzy didn’t get an answer. The patients at Shoreside Mental Health Hospital were neither free nor equal. She supposed they were all individuals, as she understood such things, but Lizzy knew that she didn’t understand much. Most of what she did understand came from the various tutors and nurses that volunteered to teach the patients.

Lizzy did get some degree of freedom since she was one of the less crazy of the many crazy people at the hospital. That freedom came in being able to roam the grounds, use the rec room, and once a year to go out to the fair. She was always accompanied by handlers at the fair, but it was Lizzy’s favorite time of the year.

The fair was everything the hospital was not. It smelled good, had lots of delicious food, and there were all kinds of people. The people made Lizzy a bit nervous, as she was not accustomed to crowds, but Dr. Welcome felt it necessary that she get some degree of socialization just in case she got better one day. The day never came but Lizzy hoped it might.

Today was Fair Day and Lizzy was very pleased that she’d woken up as Lizzy today, so she would be allowed to go to the fair. One year, she’d missed it when she didn’t wake up as Lizzy. That year had been a long one, and that day, in particular, was not a good one. It had been her last big fit of anger, during which she’d stabbed Dr. Welcome in the leg with his pen.

After taking her pills, Nurse Barbara presented her with the magazine. On the cover was a cute girl in the kind of clothes Lizzy imagined she might wear if she ever learned how to be Lizzy all the time. The title was Fashion Focus and contained lots of pictures of girls in gowns, dresses, jackets, pants, skirts, and lovely tops. Lizzy wasn’t certain lovely was the correct term for the clothes, but Nurse Barbara had taught her the word a long time ago, using it to describe Lizzy herself, and she really liked how it sounded. Lovely. It kind of rolled off the tongue.

“Happy birthday,” Nurse Barbara said as Lizzy ran her hands over the magazine.

“It’s lovely,” Lizzy said and added, “Thank you.”

“So, big day out, huh?”

Nurse Barbara used this line every birthday, which Lizzy thought of as Fair Day. Lizzy didn’t know if it was her actual birthday. She’d been only six when she came to the hospital, and she’d had little sense of how time actually worked back then. She didn’t much understand it now, either. Most days in the hospital were the same. Lizzy knew when Fair Day was, though, because she made a mark with the purple marker in the back of her journal for each day. When there were enough marks, it was Fair Day.

“Yeah. Big day out,” Lizzy agreed as Nurse Barbara brushed her hair.

Nurse Barbara liked to brush her hair. It was so fine, she said. It was like gold, she said. When she finished, she put a blue bow on one side and told her it looked lovely.

“Now, get down to eval and be on your best behavior, alright?” Nurse Barbara said.

Lizzy would be on her best behavior. She was not going to miss another fair. No way, no how. She was Lizzy today, no matter what.

Lizzy knew the way to the evaluation room so well that she could have walked there in her sleep. Right turn, left turn, past the rec room, and a stop at the stairwell to the lower floor. A white-smocked orderly unlocked the door with his thumbprint and escorted her down the steps, opened the door, and nodded to another orderly on the other side.

Two more right turns and left, then wait at the office door until the buzzer went off. When it did, Lizzy pulled the handle. Another orderly gave her a pat down. Lizzy always got a pat down and also had to lift her shirt, then her pant legs to let the orderly check her socks. Dr. Welcome didn’t want to get stabbed again. Lizzy wouldn’t do it. It was Fair Day, and she wasn’t missing another fair. No way, no how.

The orderly opened the evaluation room door and shut it behind her. In the little, windowless room, on the other side of a table, sat Dr. Welcome. He wore a brown blazer, which Lizzy knew meant that he would leave the facility for his own practice. Dr. Welcome had lots of patients, both inside the facility and out.

Over thirteen years, Lizzy had gotten to know Dr. Welcome well. Only in the last year had she gotten to know the other side of Dr. Welcome. It wasn’t his most pleasant side but, then, Dr. Welcome didn’t have much of a pleasant side at all.

“Have a seat, Lizzy,” Dr. Welcome said and gestured toward the chair across the table.

Lizzy sat.

“Big day today. Happy birthday, sweetie.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“It is Lizzy today, isn’t it?”

Lizzy nodded and smiled her best smile. A lovely smile, she thought, and said, “It’s Lizzy every day, sir.”

Dr. Welcome checked a folder and said, “For sixty-three days, that’s been the case. It’s a personal best! Do you feel like the new medication is helping?”

“Yes, sir,” Lizzy agreed and nodded eagerly.

“Any bad dreams?”

Lizzy shook her head.

“Any angry thoughts recently?”

Lizzy shook her head again.

“I see that you had a little altercation with Lucille in the common room last week. Would you like to tell me what that was about?”

Lizzy blushed but she didn’t get angry. It was not a day to get angry. It was Fair Day, and Lizzy wasn’t missing another Fair Day. No way, no how.

“She was singing that song again,” Lizzy said. “The one about the two girls with the blonde hair. I asked her to stop and she wouldn’t. But I didn’t get mad. I promise. I might have… raised my voice a little. I did like you said, though, and I just went outside to the garden.”

Dr. Welcome nodded, “That’s good. You handled the situation well, Lizzy. What did you do in the garden?”

“Checked the seeds. The roses I planted are coming up and I wanted to see if they bloomed.”

“How are they?”

“Not yet but I think they’re close.”

“Let’s talk about the white pill, Lizzy. Any more side effects?”

“Just the same.”

“You feel hot and wet?”

Lizzy nodded.

“And when you feel that way, are you touching yourself like we talked about?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you gone to Janey to help you?”

Lizzy shook her head. Dr. Welcome frowned and Lizzy’s heart skipped a beat. When Dr. Welcome frowned, it meant he was disappointed. When Dr. Welcome was disappointed, it usually meant that he’d take something away. Maybe she’d have to spend a night in the Immersion Room. A shiver ran down her spine. But Dr. Welcome’s frown vanished and turned up into the kind of compassionate smile that Lizzy thought a snake might wear if they were able.

“I understand that it might be uncomfortable to ask Janey to help you, but you know that she likes to do things for the other girls. What did we talk about doing when you’re hot and wet?”

“Sexual socialization,” Lizzy mumbled.

Dr. Welcome nodded, “That’s right. It’s important that you explore those feelings with someone safe. Taking care of it yourself should be a last resort. You can’t expect to ever leave the hospital if you’re not able to be intimate with other people.”

“Yes, sir,” Lizzy agreed.

Dr. Welcome checked his watch, “We have a bit of time before I release you. Dr. Marlow will take you to the fair today.”

Lizzy nodded. That was good. Dr. Marlow liked to play the games with her. Dr. Marlow was really good at shooting the targets. A few years ago, he’d been good enough to win Lizzy the big elephant, and Dr. Welcome even let her keep it in her room.

“Are you feeling hot and wet right now, Lizzy?”

Lizzy didn’t really want to admit that she was, but if she denied it Dr. Welcome might check with his finger. He’d been doing it since she turned eighteen. At first, it had been weird. But everything Dr. Welcome did was a bit weird. Most times it felt good, but not as good as Dr. Welcome’s tongue or his cock.

Most times, he worked with her himself on sexual socialization. With all his other patients, though, he didn’t always have time for Lizzy and her hot, wet feeling. On those other days, she just took care of it herself.

“Yes, sir,” she admitted.

“Why don’t we take care of that for you, and then you can go meet Dr. Marlow. Would you like that?”

Lizzy nodded and stood up. She rounded the other side of the table as Dr. Welcome scooted back his chair. Dr. Welcome hooked his fingers into the elastic waistband of the scrub pants and pulled them down, exposing Lizzy’s bare pussy. She let the pants pool around her ankles as Dr. Welcome put his face against her mound and inhaled the hot scent of her arousal.

Lizzy’s tummy fluttered at the weird feeling and she put her bottom on the table, scooting to the edge. Dr. Welcome spread her legs apart, just far enough to get his tongue on her pussy, and then he licked up the length of it and Lizzy moaned. It was so much better than doing it with her fingers.

Not for the first time, she wondered if she could let Janey do it for her like the doctor wanted. Lizzy didn’t feel any sort of anything when she looked at Janey or the other girls, though. At least, not the same things she felt when she was hot and wet and looked at the men on staff. Some of those she thought were cute. Well, some of the girls were cute, too, but not in that way. Not in the way that made the hot, wet feeling get so hot that she thought her insides might melt.

Dr. Welcome growled into her pussy as he licked and sucked it, his hands sliding up under the scrub top to toy with her breasts. Lizzy shook on the table as his tongue probed her button, making her jerk as a wave of pleasure shot up from her core. While in most ways Dr. Welcome had become the symbol for her confinement, the obstacle that combined with her craziness to keep her in the hospital, when she had the hot feeling, it was his tongue that she thought about and wanted.

It took him very little time to make her cum and Lizzy arched her back as he drank the honey from her pussy. Her vision swimming with little white stars, Lizzy knew what would come next. The next part was even better. Dr. Welcome pulled out his cock and pulled Lizzy’s hips back to the edge of the table. It was difficult to part her legs for him to fuck her, with her pants still around her ankles, but Dr. Welcome didn’t seem to mind.

He pushed his hard dick inside of her and held her hips firmly, stroking the length of his shaft into her hot, wet insides. Many of the things that Dr. Welcome made her do, like listening to the recordings, or watching the movies with the flashing lights, Lizzy didn’t particularly enjoy. She did enjoy how his cock felt when he was stroking it in and out of her, though.

Dr. Welcome panted and grunted as he held her there on the table. Lizzy humped his penis and moaned softly, her body shaking on the table. Then Dr. Welcome gave a familiar, final grunt and she could feel the wash of warm goo spilling into her. He pumped his penis into her for another minute before pulling it out. With a handkerchief, he wiped a trail of his goo from between her legs and stuffed it into his pocket.

The doctor zipped up his pants and helped Lizzy off of the table. She pulled the scrub pants back up and took her seat across the table once more, her skin flushed. The wet, hot feeling had dulled somewhat, as it always did when her pussy was taken care of. In a few hours, though, she knew it would be back. Then, she’d have to take care of it herself. Or go ask Janey for help.

“Well, I think that the socialization is working, Lizzy,” Dr. Welcome said. “Just remember, it’s always best if you don’t do it yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Lizzy agreed.

“Why don’t you wait here and I’ll page Dr. Marlow to take you out.”

Lizzy fidgeted in her seat in anticipation of a day outside. She made a mental check. She was still Lizzy. Good. Sixty-three days. A personal best. Maybe if she could keep being Lizzy for even more days, or all the days, then she could leave the hospital. As she waited for Dr. Marlow, Lizzy imagined spending every day at the fair. Did they have the fair every day? She didn’t know. But if she could leave, she decided, it would be nice to spend every day at the fair.

The fair was everything the hospital was not and, after thirteen years, Lizzy felt she might just be getting better. Sixty-four days, then sixty-five. She could be Lizzy all the time, she just knew. Then, Dr. Welcome would let her out.


Chapter Thirteen: The Twisted Sister

Carrie understood that the kinds of things she masturbated to were not exactly normal things. When she watched porn or read stories, they weren’t romantic. They were deviant and dirty. And yet, those things tripped Carrie’s switch more than the things that were supposed to feel normal.

Normal things, she found, were like drinking a vanilla milkshake. They could taste alright, and on a hot day, they might even do the job. But they didn’t ignite the tastebuds like chocolate. If Carrie was going to get lost in a fantasy, she needed chocolate.

At first, it was the vanilla that had made her curious. Her pussy liked the fucking and the sucking, the cute girls and hot guys, but there was nothing novel about those things. It was like Fight Club. Sure, there were plenty of disenchanted people out there and that part of the human condition was interesting. There were, likewise, underground street fighters. That, too, was an intriguing thing for someone that found people’s behaviors of interest. When the two of them were put together and they resulted in a dark and gritty worldview, that was chocolate.

Over time, Carrie had found her chocolate. The things she explored, alone, while she touched herself had progressively strayed further from the vanilla. Because those things, she’d found, didn’t just make her pussy wet. They made her heart hammer and her throat tight. They gave her stomach a hot feeling and her mind detached in a way that only being on the tennis court could equal.

Therefore, Carrie sought out and found other people like her. They were the people that wrote fantasies or experiences of crossing forbidden boundaries. They were people that found it erotic and exciting when they were groped and molested in public places without consent. The things that did it for Carrie were those things that spoke to people who allowed their desires to override their better judgment. And when she watched or read those things, they built a fantasy in her head that was just as intriguing as the best books.

Today, it had begun in the same way it usually did, which is to say that Carrie had no idea how it had begun. She’d been having breakfast with Diana, and her sister was wearing her cheer uniform. That was normal on days when she had practice in the afternoon or evening. What was also normal, for Carrie at least, was her own reaction to that uniform.

Carrie had a similar feeling when she wore her tennis skirt. It was a feeling of exposure that sent a hot rush through her. The thought of people looking at her bare legs or exposed tummy, imagining what was under that little skirt, gave her that sexual thrill that stayed with her until she could satisfy it and make it go away.

As she watched Diana get up from the table and rinse a plate, then bend over to put it in the washer, she wondered two things. Did Diana get the same feeling, being out there in front of those people in her little skirt? And, if she did, did she also come home and do the same thing to make that feeling go away?

Of course, Carrie would never talk to her sister about that. That would be admitting it to someone and that would make another of her weird fantasies too real. If she told someone, they might judge her. They’d think she was a pervert. They might call her a slut or a weirdo, and if they did that, Carrie would be ashamed, humiliated, and so horny.

She imagined what it would be like to watch Diana on top of her pyramid, putting one of those flexible legs behind her back, everyone in the stands looking at her, their eyes focused on her hidden pussy. And then, a wardrobe malfunction. Diana’s spanks would tear and expose her pussy to the assembled crowd. The flush of humiliation as it happened, as she realized that hundreds or even thousands of people were staring at her pussy, gave Carrie that sexy feeling.

She had the same feelings about herself, the same fantasies. In a rush, she’d forget to wear anything under her tennis skirt. On the court, she’d be so into the game, running and striking the ball, that she’d become oblivious to the way her skirt flipped up with her movement. The people watching would forget about Carrie’s athletic ability and the score. Instead, they’d start watching her pussy, watching her skirt as it flipped up, waiting for the next flash. Then would come the photos, the videos, people capturing images of her embarrassing predicament. It would be horrible and it would make her so hot.

That was how it had begun. Those little imagined scenarios were what triggered the need to hurry to her room when Diana left. The need to continue building the fantasy, to feed it, was what made her sit in the computer chair and begin to surf. The fantasy spun out, becoming a kind of mishmash of all the things about it that Carrie found exciting.

The first video was two girls, who resembled each other enough to be twins. They were in short skirts inside what looked like a school gym. The two of them were blushing and embarrassed because a group of men had the two of them in wooden stocks. The girls’ skirts were held up by two of those men, and the rest of them were all staring at the two wet, puffy little pussies and laughing. While Carrie touched herself, drawing out her arousal, she watched the men each take turns rubbing and touching the girls’ pussies. The two humiliated girls squirmed and gasped, whimpering as the group of men pushed their fingers into their cunts. The girls couldn’t help but cum from their shame and arousal, and that led Carrie to the next video.

In this one, another girl in a short skirt stood on a crowded bus. She was surrounded by men and, as Carrie pushed her fingers into her cunt, she watched the men begin to touch the girl’s body. First, it was one hand casually brushing a hip or an elbow accidentally bumping a breast. When the girl didn’t complain about these light touches, they became bolder. Within a few minutes, they were stroking her legs, her tummy, the sides of her boobs.

Rather than protest, the girl pressed her legs together with arousal and allowed them to go further. Carrie’s fingers squished in and out of her cunt as she watched the men begin to knead and grope the girl’s tits or put their hands under her skirt. She was so hot now, observing the girl’s weakness against the feelings those touches created inside her. Allowing strange men to molest her in public was a recipe for disaster, and the girl understood that. And yet, her pussy was wet and the hands felt good. The sense of danger and loss of control gave her that hot, sexy feeling that Carrie herself felt right now.

Soon, one of the men was behind the girl with both of his hands on her breasts, squeezing them through her shirt. Another man stood in front of her, with his tongue in her mouth as his fingers worked between her legs. Carrie watched the girl’s body quake as this stranger helped himself to her cunt and her mouth. The girl squirmed between the two of them and then made little whimpering noises into the man’s mouth. Her hand clung to his wrist, caught between allowing him to make her cum and the knowledge that if she did, it would mean she was the kind of slut that let random men fingerfuck her on a bus. When she gave in, and she became that kind of slut, Carrie came at the same time as the girl.

*** Had she managed one more good, hard cum, Carrie may not have been thinking slutty thoughts before she went to the gym. With the image of the girl in the skirt being molested on the bus in her mind, though, Carrie was thinking slutty thoughts. Because of those slutty thoughts, she was also thinking of the way that Brett had casually given her ass a little squeeze on the court just a couple of days ago.

Those two things combined, made Carrie forgo her compression shorts for today’s tennis match with Brett. Instead, Carrie wore little panties that were in no way appropriate for the tennis court. By the end of the workout, she might regret it, but Carrie’s pussy was thinking for her, and so panties it was.

Upon arriving at Hank’s, Junior at the desk waved her in without a membership.

“Call it your free trial week,” he said. “Having some women around sure couldn’t hurt with sign-ups.”

“Thanks,” Carrie replied and went through the doors.

She found Brett in the back, on the court, hitting balls from the machine. He waved between shots when he saw her and Carrie limbered up a bit as she waited. Inwardly, she got a little flutter in her stomach when Brett’s accuracy took a noticeable dip while she stretched nearby. When the machine was empty, he switched it off.

“Can I help you pick up your balls?” Carrie asked, indicating the tennis balls strewn across the court.

She blushed immediately at the implication and the raised eyebrows from Brett.

“You’re welcome to pick up my balls any time,” he shot back, twirling his racquet.

“I guess that didn’t come out quite right.”

He shrugged, kept his grin on his face, and said, “More’s the pity.”

Carrie’s blush deepened and the pussy buzz in her head deepened along with her complexion. Again, had she not been thinking slutty thoughts, she might have made a conscious effort to watch how she was bending to scoop up the balls. However, as a result of her perverted pussy, she gave Brett a little bit of a show that made the hot feeling only increase. She was sure he’d looked.

Good sense told her, of course, that flashing her panties to a man over twice her age was a silly and stupid idea. The image of the girl on the bus, though, letting her slutty desires betray her common sense, had Carrie’s pussy telling her this was okay. What was the harm in showing off a little? Brett was nobody important. This was just a casual game at the gym. It was an easy way to play with her fantasy, in an environment where the consequences were minimal or nonexistent.

So, Carrie opened the game with a powerful serve, which Brett failed to return because he was focused on the way her skirt flipped up to reveal her panties. He shook his head in dismay, retrieved the ball, and Carrie called out, “15-love,” with a shit-eating grin. Brett grumbled something as he tossed the ball back and bounced on his feet. Carrie served again and, this time, Brett managed to return. Carrie hit it back easily, with only a short dash to intercept the ball.

Brett, however, was focused on her legs and the sway of the skirt, hoping for another flash. Carrie’s pussy got even more excited, knowing from his obvious miss of an easy shot, that his attention was elsewhere. She served again. This time, though, Brett did something she wasn’t familiar with, displaying his experience with a quick, short return that Carrie missed. For a moment, she forgot about her pussy because the shot was an excellent one.

“Show me that again,” she said, pausing the game.

“Liked that, huh?”

“Not so much but yes.”

“Come on.”

Carrie retrieved the ball, served it exactly the same way, and watched Brett repeat the move.

“Can I try?” she asked, tossing him the ball.

Brett served and Carrie tried to copy it, standing in much the same place as Brett had been on her serve. Her shot, though, clipped the net and fell on her side.

“Almost,” Brett said. “A little lower and more power.”

He served again with the same result. Brett crossed the net, uninvited, and stood behind her. In much the same way he’d done before, he rested one hand on her hip. Carrie’s body gave an involuntary tremble as he touched her and then put his hand on her own.

“Like this,” he said, his voice deep in her ear.

He guided her hand through an arc slowly, while the hand on her hip slid lower, his fingertips brushing her bare leg just below the hem of the skirt.

“Show me again,” she said and it came out as more of a croak.

“Like this,” Brett said, pulling her arm back, “you need to start a bit lower,” his fingertips curled under the hem of the skirt, “and then follow through, going higher,” and then they slipped higher and traced the edge of her panties along her hip.

Carrie made a small gasp as he completed the arc with her.

“The arc and the power make the difference,” he said in her ear, his fingers still tracing the edge of the panties. “When you find the right balance, you’ll be able to drop them before they know what’s happening.”

His finger dipped just inside the leg band of the panties as he said it, giving a subtle indication of his not-so-hidden meaning.

“Got it?” he asked, extracting his finger and releasing her hand.

“Yeah,” Carrie whispered. “I… I want to try again.”

“As many times as you need to.”

He returned to his side and took up his racquet again. This time, Carrie landed the shot and Brett gave her a fitting round of applause.

“Pretty soon,” she said, “I’m gonna know all of your tricks.”

She tossed the ball back to resume the game and Brett chuckled.

“Girl, I’ve got all kinds of tricks you ain’t seen.”

Carrie blushed and Brett slammed the ball past her with ease.

“Don’t get distracted now, thinking those thoughts,” he said and winked. “You ain’t the only one knows how to cheat.”

“Pressing an advantage isn’t cheating,” Carrie said, and Brett grinned wider as Carrie showed her realization at admitting to showing off in order to distract him.

She tossed the ball back and readied herself this time. The two of them fell into the flow of the game, Brett putting aside his distraction and regaining his focus. Carrie, though, won the match and they took a break, sitting to the side on a bench.

Brett took a sip from his water bottle and asked, “What’s with the cheating? Didn’t feel like you could pull off a win without it?”

Carrie choked on her own water, recovered with a cough and asked, “What?”

“You know what I’m talking about, smart girl.”

The red in Carrie’s cheeks wasn’t from exertion as she answered, “I did win.”

“Right, you did. And you might have, regardless of your little showoff. That wasn’t the question. The question was why you did it.”

Carrie sipped again and then admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do,” Brett said. “It’s alright. Everyone’s got their thing, girl. You wanna know why you did it?”

Carrie averted her eyes and her common sense told her that she should get up and leave. It was a stupid idea, put in her head by a hot cunt. If she continued to talk about that stupid idea, with a cunt that was still hot, it might lead to another stupid idea.

Instead, her pussy made her say, “Why?”

“Because that’s one of your things. It’s one of those little switches in your head that gets the juices flowing, and you started the day in a state that made you wonder if you could do it. Sound about right?”

Carrie remained silent, willing herself not to admit it. Why should she admit it to some guy who was practically a stranger, one that was older than her dad? It would be gross and it would be slutty and, holy fuck, it would be hot. Still, she couldn’t make the words come out of her mouth. She pressed her hands together between her legs to stop them from trembling.

“It probably won’t surprise you that I’ve met a fair number of people, traveling around for matches,” Brett said. “Something I’ve learned is that everyone’s got a thing. Most of them have a lot of things. You know the things I’m talking about. If you don’t want to talk about it, we’ll go back to the game and forget it happened. But you’ve got the look of someone that wants to talk about it with someone that ain’t gonna make you feel bad about it. So, do you wanna go back to the game and forget about it?”

Yes, she thought. Going back to the game and not talking about the dirty thoughts in her head was the sensible and responsible thing to do. The dirty thoughts were what made her think even dirtier thoughts, the kind of thoughts that weren’t sensible. They were the thoughts that had led her to let Mike Castle record her giving him a blowjob. The dirty thoughts were what had made her tell Amory Nelson that he could take pictures of her pushing a dildo up her ass. Those thoughts were slutty and dark, and they made her think with her pussy instead of her head.

But Carrie shook her head and pressed her hands tighter between her legs as she looked at the floor. That buzz in her head was back and the knot of hot, guilty pleasure twisted her gut. Brett sounded like he understood. He might be old, but he had something that Carrie did not. He had experience and he didn’t sound like he thought it was weird. And, for someone like Carrie, who thought she was weird for thinking those things, actually knowing another person who didn’t think she was weird felt exciting.

“Look,” Brett continued when Carrie didn’t get up, “You’re not a weirdo.”

Carrie slowly met his eyes and her own widened. It was like he’d read her thoughts.

“What you are is a person with a natural curiosity about shit. You’re a damn fine tennis player, too,” he went on, and that made Carrie smile. “Do you want to know how to stop feeling like a weirdo?”

Carrie nodded.

“Learn what you like and explore it. I’m not talking just about those thoughts in your head. You explore everything. Otherwise, you’re limiting yourself and your potential to be great at things. You know why I liked traveling around doing the semi-pro thing? It wasn’t just the game. The game is great for a lot of reasons. Doing it is what helped me explore. New places, new food, doing shit that I was afraid of. You’ve got the skill to go places by playing the game. Along the way, you’re going to meet folks, like me, that accept the things you think about because they think the same things. There are more of them than you know. I’m sure looking online has shown you that. It’s just that most of them are like you. They don’t want to talk about it with other people because they’re afraid of that one person that calls them a weirdo, more than they’re excited about the hundred that will tell them it’s alright. Make sense?”

“I guess so,” Carrie whispered, looking back at the floor.

“Since we aren’t back out there on the court right now, I’m guessing that this is probably the first time another real person’s told you that it’s okay, right?”

Carrie nodded.

“There will be others. Lots of them,” Brett went on. “When I was doing the circuit, I’d read or listen to the critics afterward. Sometimes I’d hear the asshole that said I was shit and they didn’t understand why I even tried. For every one of those bums, ten more said that I was playing a great game and should try to go further. Instead of listening to them, I listened to the asshole. That’s how people are kind of wired. We put more weight on the opinion that says we're shit than on the ten that say we’re good at something. It’s a mental block that you’ll have to get around on your own. Once you can do that, and stop listening to the one voice that says you’re a weirdo, you start to free yourself and see what you really are. And you’re great.”

Brett reached out and put his finger under Carrie’s chin, tilting her face up to look at him. Carrie let out a small gasp as the odd power of that gesture made the hot feeling even hotter. It wasn’t exactly a command, but it was. Brett wasn’t asking her to look at him or to acknowledge what he said. He was making her do it and that felt exciting. It was such a small thing, but such a rush.

“You’re not weird for liking what you like. Are you?”

Carrie shook her head.

“Say it,” Brett prompted.

“I’m… not weird.”

“Do you want to explore it? Safely?”

Carrie’s hands twisted in her lap and she nodded.

“You take little steps like you did today. This was the first time you tried it, right? To show off?”

She nodded again and Brett released her, holding her gaze.

“Did it feel exciting?” he asked.

Carrie nodded and swallowed a lump in her throat.

“We’re going to take another step. Do you want to do that?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“It’s a small step that’s a big step.”

She nodded.

“Take them off and give them to me. Don’t show me anything. Just take them off, and put them in my hand.”

He held out his hand, palm up. For a moment Carrie wasn’t sure what he meant, but the realization came quickly. Brett wanted her to give him her panties. He waited, looking into her eyes, palm out. The slutty thoughts, in control, made Carrie stand up and her fingers went to the hem of her skirt. They rested there, toying with the hem.

Brett sat and waited, looking, his hand out. That small, quiet voice of common sense was back and telling her that she should not give this man her underwear. She should not go out on the court with a bare, wet pussy in the gym. Only, the slutty thoughts said that there was no one else around. Brett was nice and he didn’t think it was weird. It was safe to experiment, just to see what it would feel like. No one else had to know.

Carrie reached under her skirt and slid her panties down her legs. Looking away from him, she picked them up and placed them in his hand. The reaction, in her gut, in her pussy, and in her head was a powerful one. It was such a small thing, and yet, it had such vast implications that it was like a punch to the gut. When his fist closed around her panties, taking them from her hand, and he pushed them into his pocket, it felt like he was somehow taking ownership of a piece of her.

She’d let a strange man take away her underwear and leave her with a naked cunt, hidden under a scrap of cloth. He was, even now, thinking about it, she could tell. He was thinking about her pussy, knowing it was wet and that she was excited. She thought about the girl on the bus and, in some way, she was like that girl now. She was the kind of slut that took off her panties and surrendered them to a man she’d met only two days ago. It felt dangerous and exciting, allowing her desire to override her common sense.

“Good girl,” Brett said as the panties disappeared.

Carrie’s face flushed and she felt her legs quake at the words. She couldn’t understand it. The words weren’t anything special, but they seemed to signal some kind of acceptance, a reinforcement that what she’d done was the right thing. Listening to the slutty thoughts was the right thing, the correct action, and it resulted in positive reinforcement and that feeling of pleasure.

“Let’s have another game,” Brett said, standing and taking up his racquet. “Don’t think about it. Play your best.”

Carrie took up her own racquet, unsure how exactly she was going to forget that her underwear was now in his pocket. It turned out that she could not forget. Not at first. At first, she thought about her pussy every time she moved. She watched Brett watching her pussy, looking for that flash of bare flesh, maybe some sign of her arousal. It threw her game off and Brett crushed her in the next match easily.

In the next game, she lost even more quickly. Her face flushed from embarrassment, she could hardly watch the ball because Brett played the match with her panties wrapped around the handle of his racquet. He grinned across the net at her as he did it. Carrie stumbled around the court like a first-week student against an Olympic champ, the feeling of humiliation at having her underwear displayed like that focusing her thoughts right between her legs.

They took another rest, even though the games had been quick. Carrie stumbled toward the bench as Brett took a seat and drank.

“That wasn’t fair,” she said.

“No,” he agreed. “It was downright dirty. Probably made you feel pretty embarrassed, didn’t it?”

Carrie nodded.

“It wasn’t all you felt though, was it?”

Carrie blushed.

Brett set his water bottle down, looked her in the eye and said, “Show me.”

Carrie flushed, every bare inch of her skin turning pink. But her fingers moved to the hem of the skirt, where she dithered, fighting the common sense voice that was now so quiet.

“It’s your choice. You can see how it feels, or you can have these back,” Brett said and dangled her panties.

The sight of them instantly reminded Carrie—as though she could have forgotten—that she was about to pull her skirt up and show this man her nude, shaven cunt. And then she did, lifting the hem of the skirt and keeping it raised for Brett to examine her bare mound.

With one hand, he took her chin again and made her look down at his other hand. That hand slowly moved toward her pussy and Carrie did nothing to stop it. She was the girl on the bus. She was the kind of slut that was about to let a strange man touch her pussy in a public place. And all common sense was suddenly quiet. There was only the slutty thoughts and the hot feeling.

Brett’s finger went between her legs, where it traced the crease of her pussy, gathering sweat and girl honey along its length as Carrie gasped. He pulled back his hand and showed her the sticky, wet finger, coated in her arousal and sweat. And then he put the finger into his mouth. Carrie made a slutty noise as he did it.

“We’re finished for today,” he said.

Carrie suddenly realized that she was still holding her skirt and dropped it. Brett stood, close but still an acceptable distance. A safe distance. He pushed her panties back into his pocket and Carrie shivered.

“I’ll see you on Thursday. Don’t bother wearing panties for the next game.”

Carrie slowly nodded.

“Go home and take care of it,” Brett whispered. “I know you need to.”

Carrie snatched up her racquet and, without a look back, left quickly. Yes, she definitely needed to take care of it.



Like the sound of this story? You can pick up the finished book in the shop. The full Cheerloathing novel spans over 500 pages and 61 chapters.

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