Expo Summer Part 04 Friends Will be Friends
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EXPO Summer Part 5: The Unkindest Cut free porn video
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- -
This part of the story is dedicated to Prudence Walker, aka Prue,
resident muse and a very talented author in her own right. And
don't blame her; this chapter is my own doing.
EXPO SUMMER Part 05
The Unkindest Cut
By Kim EM
Copyright (c) 2001
All rights reserved
Previously:
"EXPO 67? Can we go?" I asked excitedly. I'd been hinting about
the fair for a year, though my problems in the spring had gotten
to take all my attention. *maybe... maybe...*
"Kimberly," Dad continued, "It will be a bit early, but for your
birthday your mother and I are taking you to the fair for a week
in mid-August."
I squealed and suddenly found myself wrapped around him. "Thank
you, thank you thankyouthankyou..."
- -
Chapter Twenty-two
I won't go into any detail about the next two days. Gail, Tina,
and I went everywhere together. To the beach, to church, out bike
riding.
Bike riding. We'd been out for most of the morning, and when Tina
and Gail wanted to head for home, I decided to stop by my dad's
office instead. We'd been riding along the cart paths of the gold
course, and so when they turned east, back to home, I headed
north, down one of the cart paths back towards the clubhouse. The
clubhouse was at the top of a steep hill, so when I got to the
base of the hill I took a shortcut, a graveled path that led
though the park. This was the same park where Gail had told me of
her molestation, and I slowed as I neared the secluded spot where
we'd had such a horrible conversation.
There were three teenage boys sitting on the bench, talking and
laughing. As I approached, one glanced up, saw me, and a look of
delight crossed his face. He suddenly stood and moved into the
path, reaching for the handlebars on my bike.
The other boys looked at him in surprise as the bike came to a
sudden stop. He reached with his other hand and grabbed the front
of my blouse, lifting me slightly so that I was almost off the
seat. He turned to his friends and said, "This is her-him-the
little pervert!"
They looked uncertain and one asked, "Are you sure? She looks
like a girl."
The first one laughed nastily and grabbed me by the hair. With a
savage yank he pulled the wig off and chortled. The other said,
"Jeez. It _is_ a guy!"
The one holding me dragged me bodily off the bike and let it fall
to the pavement. The others surrounded me, and started laughing,
looking closely at my face. The previously silent one looked at
the ringleader and asked, "Do you still want to..." He trailed
off and looked at the boy holding me.
"Yes," the boy replied, "now more than ever." He drew his free
arm back, and then launched a solid punch at my stomach. I tried
dodging, to no avail. The punch landed deep in my gut and I would
have doubled over if he hadn't been holding me up.
The others moved right up to me, one at my left, the other behind
and to my right. The one on the left feinted at me, and as I
reacted, the one behind me grabbed my right arm. The one on the
left, instead of striking, suddenly had my left arm. They moved
slightly away, drawing my arms out to my sides.
I tried pulling away, but they were bigger and stronger. The
ringleader let go of my blouse, and I thought he was going to
launch into an all-out attack. Instead, he reached both hands to
my collar, and grabbed, pulling straight down, and ripping the
front of the blouse apart.
I opened my mouth to cry out, yell for help, but the blow to my
gut had frozen my innards, and I couldn't produce more than an
agonized squeak. I struggled and tried again to pull away, but
couldn't budge either of the ones holding my arms.
I tried to tell myself that there's nothing about being a girl
that means I can't fight. Some of the nastiest fighters I've seen
are girls. So why can't I fight back? Why haven't I ever been
able to fight back? As I strained for an answer, he pulled out a
knife, a jackknife he seemed uncomfortably casual handling.
I renewed my struggles as he easily flipped the knife open.
Again, futility was the only outcome, and he leaned in towards
me. He held the keen edge of the knife to my cheek, letting me
fearfully gaze at the metal so close to me. He drew the blade
lightly down my right cheek, barely stinging but leaving a wet
feeling behind. When it reached my chin, he lifted the blade and
reached out with his other arm, grabbing the front of my bra.
"So," he gloated, "the little boy wears a bra. How cute." He
scratched his head in mock puzzlement. "I don't get it? Why
bother wearing a bra? There's nothing on your chest to fill it."
His knife flashed, and the bra was suddenly in two pieces,
hanging uselessly from my body.
The two other kids guffawed upon seeing this, and while they were
distracted I tried pulling loose. Still nothing. Damn. They were
just too strong for my eleven-year-old frame.
I felt something wet on my chest, and discovered a steady
dripping of blood, landing near the still vestigial right nipple,
and running down my stomach and below, starting to stain my
culottes. "Oh, look, he's flowing," mocked the teen. "There's
another thing that girls do that he has to copy. And I bet his
panties are all bloody."
The kid on my left sneered, "I bet nobody ever told him about
tampons."
The ringleader laughed and said, "Where would he put them, up his
ass?" He leaned forward again and with a few quick slashes cut
loose the bloody culottes, exposing a somewhat less bloody pair
of panties. "Not as much blood here. Do you suppose I should help
it along?" The other two nodded eagerly, and the knife prodded at
my chest, quickly drawn into circles around where my breasts
would someday be. I gasped in pain as he leered at me. "There,
now you'll know where to have boobs attached some day."
My breath was returning, impelled in part by the rings of fire on
my chest, and partly by the sure knowledge of where he was
eventually going with that blade. I cried out, "HEEEEELL..." and
was abruptly cut off by a sharp, very hard blow to the throat. I
couldn't talk, could barely breathe, and the harsh, lingering
pain told me that he'd most likely crushed something in my
throat.
He moved behind me, around the two thugs holding my arms rigid,
and swiftly cut loose the remains of my clothing. Only my panties
remained, and I could feel him rub my butt through the thin
material. He chuckled and said, "Oh, yes, I know exactly want we
need to do." I could feel the slicing of the material at both
sides, and the panties fell freely to the ground.
My arms were suddenly drawn even tighter; if such a thing is
possible, and I could feel the blade carving it's way across my
backside. The pain, well, it wasn't as bad as I'd expected, but I
could feel the skin splitting where the knife had cut deeply. He
finished his grisly job, and casually circled round to my front
again. "I suppose you want to know what it says? Nothing much,
you little pervert. Just something so the other perverts will be
able to recognize you."
I tried to yell, to scream at him, but the very effort was agony,
and nothing came out but a breathy whistle. HE laughed again,
then shouted at me, right into my face, all the vileness and bile
he possessed coming forth at that moment. "You fucking little fag
boy, prancing around like a girl and trying to pretend that
you're something you will never be! NEVER! If you live a fucking
million years you won't be a girl!"
He reached down towards my exposed groin with his knife,
preparing to do something I don't even want to think about, when
the answer to my question flashed into my mind. Girls are nasty
fighters; they will do WHATEVER it takes, while boys usually have
unspoken rules in their fights. Girls are the more dangerous. I
should have known, I couldn't overpower or out-struggle the older
boys; I had to fight like a girl!
He reached for my limp and undeveloped member as my leg lashed
out and my bare toes connected solidly with his groin. He
collapsed to the ground, clutching himself as my suddenly shifted
weight pulled the two other teens off-balance. As they staggered,
I was able to catch one with my knee, another solid hit to the
crotch, forcing him to release my right arm, and letting me swing
around on the one on the left. He backpedaled, releasing my arm
and reflexively clutching form his privates.
I lit out of there, naked and in pain, right across the park's
lawn, straight through the sprinklers, racing with all my might
for the street and safety. I could hear their pained cries behind
me, and knew that with their greater size and speed, it was only
moments until they would again have me in their clutches. I took
a hard left towards the nearest piece of road, and my feet went
out from under me on the wet grass. I slid and rolled, and
managed to recover my footing without much loss in time. Behind
me I could hear the dismayed cries as the three clowns ran into
the spray, getting a face-full of near-freezing water.
The urgency was greater for me, because I knew what they would do
when they caught up to me, and I HAD to get to safety, simply had
to if I wanted to live. I was having trouble, though. Whatever
he'd done when he nailed my throat was making it hard to breathe.
I could feel thunderbolts of pain as I gasped, still running my
race for life. Ahead was a chain barrier at the edge of the park.
About two-and-a-half feet high, the chain was strung to keep cars
and bicycles out of the grass, and delimit the edge of the park.
I was too low to duck under at the speed I was traveling, so I
leapt to vault it. As my feet left the ground, my bare feet
slipped on the wet grass and shot out from under me, and I leapt
into uncontrolled flight.
I flew, frantically trying to change what I could see was going
to happen, but I was already in mid-air. As I frantically
twisted, one leg passed under the chain and the other above the
chain... I tried, really I did, but I couldn't do anything to
change my path, and I slammed into the chain full-force, right
between the legs. All my eleven-year-old weight came down full
force on my crotch, and the world flared white with agony, and
then it turned black and there was nothing.
Mikhaela
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