BSC09 the Fall and Rise of Jared ReznikChapter 14 Jared s Kind Offer
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Good Girls Are Never Mean free porn video
This story is written in second person because I originally intended it to
be a choose-your-own-adventure. Obviously I changed my mind.
--------------------------
GOOD GIRLS ARE NEVER MEAN:
"This is the last time I tell you Eric, you will not listen to music in my
class!" Mrs. Davis' yell startles you awake. It's the first class of the
day and she's a dreadfully boring speaker. It's hardly your fault you can't
keep away, even if you need the help of a pair of headphones to block her
voice out. A 5'3" woman should not be able to loom, you think as your eye's
slide open.
Her eyes narrows and she says "Are you listening to music in my class?" she
demands, obviously having spotted the cord to the earplug headphones you've
got covered under your long hair. "Hand them over," she commands and you
have no choice but to deposit the mp3 player and headphones into her
waiting hand. You're a bit surprised you managed to get away with that for
two weeks before being spotted. "You'll get these back after class and I
expect to see you in detention this afternoon," Mrs. Davis says before
walking back to the blackboard.
You can hear several students trying, and failing, to hide their amusement,
but you don't care what they think. Trading two weeks of early morning math
classes for an hour or two of detention, that's a good trade. Having the
mp3 confiscated was no loss compared to not bringing it in the first place.
Being without headphones means you now have to listen to Mrs. Davis drone
on about sines and cosines. But fortunately she can force you to hear, but
not to listen and soon your mind is pleasantly wandering. It's a poor
second to sleeping, but you'll take what you can get.
You're vaguely aware of Mrs. Davis asking who can see the solution to the
problem on the board, but Brenda, sitting next to you, hesitatingly raising
her hand manages to raise your interest. It's been clear to you from day
one that Brenda is as thick as two bricks. She attends a vocational program
to be a beautician for god's sake. If this school was organized in an even
partway civilized manner she wouldn't be in the same math class as you.
Still she does occasionally prove entertaining, and you snicker under your
breath as Mrs. Davis says "Sorry, Brenda, that's not right."
"God you're dumb, Brenda," you whisper, and see her mouth tightening to a
line.
"Well if you're so smart, what's the answer?" she whispers back. You look
at the black board. It looked easy when you glanced at it earlier, but now
you can't quite place the details.
"Fuck you," you whisper after several seconds and burn inside at her
satisfied expression. After that you just ignore her, and everything else.
The lesson still seems to last far too long though.
Eventually it ends and as the students file out you approach the teacher's
desk to get your mp3 player back. Mrs. Davis takes it, and the headphones,
out of a drawer and says: "remember, I expect to see you after last class,"
as she hands them to you.
You put on the headphones and start a song before returning the mp3 player
to your pocket. Exiting the class room you suddenly feel dizzy and have to
grab the wall for support. The hall seems to be spinning, but after you
shake your head a few times it seems to clear up and you shift your weight
back on your own feet.
Next class is English and you really have nothing better to do so you head
there. Unfortunately the way there takes you past a group of the school
jocks and you hear "hey Eric! Managed to bench press a helium balloon yet?
Or couldn't you reach the bar." Their silly focus on brawn is a relic of
the past, muscles and height won't get them far in the 21st century, and
you tell them as much without stopping. "Keep telling yourself that!" you
hear them yell after you.
You get to the English class room well ahead of time. Because it always
pays to look more studious than you are you get out your book, then settle
down to wait. The music helps you pass the time. For some reason there
seems to be a soft hum in the background that you can't remember being
there before, and doesn't seem like it belongs in a metal song. Still
something tells you it's supposed to be there.
After a few minutes the teacher shows up and the majority of the students
file in. "Today we're going to do independent reading," she says with a
smile, and starts going around the class room with a stack of paper. She
stops in front of your desk, fiddling with the stack for several moments
before depositing several stapled-together pages in front of you.
After handing out to all the students she eventually returns to her desk.
"You may begin reading," she says "please wait quietly when you're done,"
then she sits back in her chair.
You start reading. The text seems rather simplistic. Its about a high
school girl in totally mundane situations. She's very much a goody two
shoes and you couldn't be less interested. You scan the words without even
consciously registering what you're reading. In your ears the metal fades
and the hum grows stronger. Now that you can hear it better it sounds like
a ditty, but you can't make out the words.
"That'll be all for now," the teacher suddenly says. You can't believe
class is over already. Looking down you see that you're only on page three
out of five. Somehow it seems you can remember what happens next though.
"Can you please hand me back your text, Eric?" The teacher asks as everyone
is packing their bags. "Of course Miss," you answer with a smile.
The room is empty by the time you've packed your own bag and you head into
the deserted hall. A moment later a door a little down the hall opens and
Brenda sticks her head out. "Hey, Eric! Can you help me out for a bit?" she
yells. Seeing her reminds you of something that happened earlier. Trying to
remember you think you were mean to her, but your never mean. It had to do
with how you feel about her. She's always nice to everyone and being nice
is good, so you... like her?
"Of course I'll help you," you tell her, "what do you need?" She holds the
door open for you, letting you in to what looks more like a back stage room
of a theatre than a class room.
"I'm doing make up practice and I need someone to practice on. It'd really
help me out," she says as she closes the door behind you.
"Of course I'll help," you say again, helping is nice.
"Great," she says, "just take a seat here," she gestures towards an empty
seat in the middle of the small room. As you sit down she adds: "It'd be a
great help if you let me do your hair too."
"Of course, anything to help" you tell her. It feels nice to help.
"Good, just sit there and relax and listen to the music," she says and
disappears from the room. Relaxing sounds great it's what you've been
trying to get a chance to all day, and the strange little ditty is very
relaxing. After a bit Brenda comes back and starts putting some stuff in
your hair, you don't bother to see what. Then she attaches some things to
it and sticks it in some machine. You just relax and let her work. Then she
takes a sits down in front, and a bit to the side of you with a make up kit
between you. "Pay attention in the mirror," she says and you do as she
asks. You stare into the mirror as she slowly, but skillfully and
thoroughly gets to work applying various items from her kit. As you watch
your features soften and change. "You're a good girl aren't you?" Brenda
eventually asks.
"I'm a good girl," you answer without thinking, the words seeming strangely
familiar like you've said them a thousand times before. Still looking in
the mirror you realize that what looks back at you now looks more like a
girl's.
"You're a good girl," Brenda repeats, and again you answer: "I'm a good
girl," so why do you feel you shouldn't have a girl's face. Before you have
time to wonder more about that Brenda goes on: "It's so nice of you to help
me."
"I liking helping because I'm a good girl," you answer, once again getting
the feeling that the words are very familiar, but you can't quite quite
place them. "Helping people is nice," you add, not knowing why only that
they somehow fit.
"Yes, you're such a good girl," Brenda responds placidly.
"I'm a good girl because I'm nice," you finish, suddenly realizing where
you know the words from. They're the lyrics of the ditty you've been
listening to all day:
"I'm a good girl. I liking helping because I'm a good girl. Helping people
is nice. I'm a good girl because I'm nice."
Satisfied that the mystery is solved you relax and listen to the music
while Brenda finishes her. Eventually you're brought back to reality when
she removes the machine working on your hair. Now brown curls falling to
your neck surrounds a shy-looking girls face. "What do you think?" she
asks.
"Very pretty," is all you eventually manage to respond. For some reason
seeing your own face has rendered you speechless.
"Ooh, I'm so happy you like it," Brenda exclaims and steps back so you can
get out of the chair. "Can I ask you for another favor?" she asks you after
you've gotten up.
"I don't know," you say, suddenly conflicted, "I'm supposed to have P.E.
and skipping class isn't nice." That makes Brenda smile, or maybe smirk
would be more accurate.
"Oh, don't worry about that," she says, "I've sent a note explaining
everything. Your teacher understands."
"Oh, ok then. What do you need?" you ask.
"Well it's not for me," Brenda explains, "the drama club needs someone to
try one of the costumes for the play and you're just the right size. It
would be very nice of you."
"Well if you put it like," you answer, being nice is what you do after all.
"Great!" she says and leads you to another room down the hall. Once you're
there she closes the door and tells you to get undressed. You hesitate and
she adds: "it's ok to be shy, but we really need your help." That makes you
relent and you quickly undress. Once you're naked Brenda looks you over and
says, sternly: "This is really not good enough, would a good girl let
herself get this hairy? You can't try costumes like this."
You find yourself lost for words, you nothing quite seems to make sense.
"Sorry," is all you manage to say.
"It's ok, I can fix this," she says. Before you know what is going on she's
gotten a towel out and put it over a... conveniently placed bench. "Lie
here," she tells you and hesitantly you lie down on your back.
Brenda sets down a box next to you from which she starts pulling broad
white strips. One by one, starting at the bottom of your legs, she applies
the strips to your skin, then pulls them off after a few seconds taking
your body hair with them. You whimper quietly from the pain.
Once she's done the entire front of your body Brenda tells you to roll
over. You do so, then shift uncomfortably noticing how sensitive your skin
now is. Once again starting with your legs Brenda repeats her treatment on
the other side of your body. Eventually Brenda says "All done now," and
leaves with the box of now used strips. You roll over on your back again
and wait for the burning in your skin to subside.
"You look much better. Now there's just these left," Brenda says when she
returns.
"What's left?" you ask confused and look up to see her smearing what looks
like glue on some flesh colored objects you can't recognize.
"Just be a good girl and lie back," Brenda tells you, and you immediately
obey. She places the two objects, glued side down, on your chest. You see
that they look like breasts, and they feel like rubber. "For the costume,"
Brenda says as an explanation. "Now you just need to lie still while these
dry," she continues "here, listen to some music." She gets the mp3 player
from your pocket and stick the headphones in your ears. It makes sense to
do as she says, and the music is so relaxing.
You don't know how long you were lying there, listening to the music you
hardly cared about the passage of time, but eventually Brenda pulls of the
headphones. "Wakey, wakey, Erica," she says, "thanks for trying on the
costume, but you've got to get dressed. Here are your panties." She's
holding out a pair of white panties. Why don't you recognize them? And why
does your head feel like it's been stuffed with cotton.
"I've tried the costume already?" you ask confused. You were certain you
hadn't done so yet.
"Yes, these boy clothes, silly," Brenda answers. "It's really cool that
you're ok with crossdressing, by the way."
"You're welcome," you say and pull on the panties. Next comes a white dress
that turns out to reach to just above your knees and you recognize no more
than the panties. The shoes she hands you have about a two inch heel. You
feel certain, despite your grogginess, that your not used to wearing heels.
When you're dressed Brenda says: "It's study hall now. Let's go to the
library together." If it's study hall already that means most of the day
has passed. Where did the time go? And you've missed so many classes.
Brenda seems to sense your concern and says: "Don't worry. You were excused
from class. I explained everything." You're not sure Brenda has the
authority to do that, but you just nod your head and follow her to the
library.
Once you're there Brenda gets several papers out of her bag. "Mrs. Davis
says you have to copy these out fifty times, ok?" You glance at the first
paper and see the heading says "The good girls' guide to school etiquette."
That doesn't exactly seem math related. "Good girls always do as they're
told, Erica." Brenda says as she sees you hesitate.
"Of course, Brenda," you answer, take a seat and start reading:
"The good girls' guide to school etiquette:
Good girls are always nice, never mean.
Good girls support their fellow students.
Good girls never brag.
Good girls always do as they are told.
Good girls curtsey when they receive an instruction.
..."
The list goes on and on. "If Mrs. Davis want you to copy this it must be
important," you think and start writing.
Nadene
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