Schoolgirl and schoolboy
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Anson's School Days free porn video
ANSON'S SCHOOL DAYS by Throne
Anson stepped into his homeroom, his mind on his schedule, his books
hugged against his narrow chest. He shook back his long hair and
sighed. The first day of a school year was always stressful, more so
because this was a new school. He heard a girlish giggle and his mind
snapped back to the present. Most of the desks were occupied and, to
his shock, every student except him was female. He looked around,
hoping for some sign of why this had happened, but all he saw were
pretty coeds in all shapes and sizes, every one of them eyeing him with
amused curiosity. Sometimes he got that sort of reaction because he
wasn't very masculine. In fact, he wasn't at ALL manly, with his
slender figure, shoulder length blond hair, and smooth oval face. Even
his glasses, with their delicate wire-rim frames, did nothing to
discourage that impression.
One of the other students, who was taller than him and attractively
plump, grinned impishly and said, loud enough for everyone to hear,
"Looks like we don't have ANY boys in this class."
He felt himself blushing, a reaction that could be triggered in him much
too easily. He tried smiling, as if he was sharing her joke, but that
just made him appear simpering, which provoked chuckles from several
other classmates. All he could think to do at that point was to sit
down and hope they would lose interest in him. He had no such luck.
Another student, of average height and with a trim figure, sat on the
edge of his desk. She had a short elegant hairstyle and a face so
naturally pretty that she used only a hint of make-up. She cupped his
chin in the palm of her hand and he froze.
"Hi," she said sweetly. "I'm Britt. What's your name?"
Clearing his throat, he managed to say in a small voice, "I'm Anson."
"You're Annie? What a pretty name for such a pretty girl."
"N... no," he tried to correct her. "My name is..."
But she cut him off, patting his cheek and saying, "Welcome to our
class, Annie. We knew you had transferred to this school and we pulled
a few strings to make sure that you were put in here with us. We're
going to have so much fun together."
He swallowed with difficulty. She was so sexy that his penis twitched.
That made him think about how inadequate he was in that area. His poor
little dick was tiny, as were his almost hairless balls. He cringed at
the thought of the girls who surrounded him ever discovering his
shameful secret. But of course that could never happen -- could it?
Britt grinned at him and took a brush from her copious shoulder bag.
She ran the bristles through his long hair and cooed appreciatively.
Then she said something about how sweet his hair would look put into
braids. He shuddered at the possibility of the girls fixing it that
way.
Britt glanced toward the back of the room, hopped off his desktop, and
took her seat across the aisle from him. He peeked to see what had made
her move and it was the teacher, a big woman in a conservative skirt-
and-jacket combination, her dark hair up in a tight bun at the back of
her patrician head. She strode to the front of the room and stood
there, surveying the class. Her gaze lingered on Anson and he felt his
cheeks growing warm again.
"So," the woman said. "Let's get to know one another. I am Ms. Stern.
As I point to each of you, please tell me your first name."
That went well until her finger was aimed at Anson. As he opened his
mouth to speak, Britt said, "Annie." The teacher's eyebrow went up but
she didn't comment. Instead, she made a note on the roster that she had
on a clipboard before her. Anson wanted to object. He didn't want her
calling him by that feminine name. But he was too flustered to speak
up. Ms. Stern finished taking roll and began discussing how she ran her
class. Her attention focused on Anson as she explained that any sort of
disobedience or bad attitude would be dealt with quickly and decisively.
"Please remember that corporal punishment is an option. I will not
hesitate to administer whatever type of discipline I deem necessary."
He squirmed in his seat, horrified at the thought of being physically
corrected in front of all those appealing girls. His fidgeting got so
bad that the teacher stopped speaking and walked up to him.
She said, "It appears that you wish to be the first to find out exactly
HOW I deal out my lessons in proper behavior... Annie."
Anson cowered, wringing his hands under the desk. The other students
watched with interest. Ms. Stern waited impatiently for him to respond.
All he could do was to nod. She gave him a hard look, told him to stand
and put his hands on his head, and to stay that way until told to move.
He was mortified but what could he do. Anson assumed the silly posture
and stood there. He heard one of the girls whisper that he looked like
a ballerina. Several others snickered at that remark. Ms. Stern didn't
seem to hear them as she glowered at the only student standing. All he
could think of was how unfair her treatment of him was.
The remainder of the class went smoothly for everyone... except Anson.
His arms got tired and his lower back began to protest, but he knew
better than to shift about. Instead, he stood like that the entire
time, until a bell rang, signaling recess. The teacher told everyone,
including him, to go outside and get some fresh air. It was a mild
sunny day, so he was happy to comply. However, all the girls stayed
close to him and he got a bad feeling that they were about to display
their mocking attitude anew.
He went and stood in the shade under a tree. The girls arranged
themselves in a semi-circle, penning him in. He took a deliberate
breath and licked his naturally full lips. A swarthy girl with her dark
hair worn collar length approached him.
She said, "You didn't say how you liked our idea. About putting your
hair in braids. Don't you think you'd look delightful that way?"
Anson shifted his feet and said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I...
um... never wear my hair like that."
She looked at the others and said, "Did you hear her? Annie said she
would LOVE to have her pretty hair braided. I'll take one side and who
wants the other?"
There were several volunteers but it was a blond girl who was rather
busty who ended up opposite the dusky beauty. As the newcomer stepped
close to him, her soft bosom brushed his skinny upper arm. A shiver ran
through Anson and his immature dick twitched again. The girls went to
work, adroitly handling his hair and occasionally tugging at it and
making him flinch. That last action seemed intentional. Soon his hair
was neatly put into braids that hung down and brushed his downward
sloping shoulders. Each of the braiders took one of the lengths of hair
and began to lead him around the schoolyard. He whimpered at this
public indignity and tried not to cry. Anson blinked back tears as
everyone looked at him and laughed.
When they finally led him back to his starting point he was badly
shaken. But they weren't done yet. The busty blonde let go of her
braid and ran a pudgy finger down the middle of his sunken chest. It
reached his belt and continued downward. He gasped as she touched the
front of his slacks and stopped. Her other fingers joined that one and
she felt around as if searching for something.
"Gee," she said, "I wasn't sure if Annie here was a girl or a boy, but
from what I can feel, she's definitely not a guy. I mean, there's just
about nothing between her legs."
"Let me check," said the girl who had made the other braid.
She prodded and palpitated his crotch, looking puzzled as she said,
"You're right. I can't find anything down here that could pass for boy
parts. I mean, there's some kind of little... twig. But nothing even
close to a penis or balls."
Guffaws erupted from the onlookers. The blond fiddled with his belt, as
if she was going to open it, and he nearly swooned. The only thing that
saved him was another ring from the bell, calling them all back inside.
As he moved toward the building with the girls, no one volunteered to
return his hair to its former state. So, still wearing those braids,
his new badge of humility, he returned to his desk. Ms. Stern checked
him and nodded knowingly, as if she had expected something like this.
She started a new lesson and he did his best to follow what she was
saying, but he was so distracted by everything that had happened that he
couldn't concentrate. How was Anson every going to be able to keep up
with the lessons if he couldn't pay attention?
Well, he wasn't able to focus at all, so every time the teacher called
on him, he failed to answer. She began to call him 'brainless' and
'dope'. The girls snickered and hissed 'stupid' and 'shit-for-brains'.
He bit his lips and struggled unsuccessfully to concentrate. At last
Ms. Stern went to the closet and found a tall white cap. It came to a
point at the top and across the front was written DUNCE. She put it on
his head, with those unwanted braids sticking out below its rim. He
looked like a complete idiot as he sat there, more distracted than ever.
While her back was turned, the girls used markers to label his hands L
and R, as if he couldn't tell left from right. The teacher noticed the
letters and, instead of defending him from their cruelty, she asked for
the marker and used it to write across his forehead, STUPID. Anson sat
there feeling hopeless. At the same time, he couldn't stop thinking
about the girls. He noticed their buckle shoes, knee socks, short
skirts, tight jeans, and revealing tops. He inhaled greedily, smelling
their perfumes and even hints of their natural female musk. The class
seemed to last forever but at last it ended. Ms. Stern took back the
dunce cap, to his relief. But his moment of lessened stress was brief.
Now it was time for gym.
He reported to the guys' locker room but everyone laughed at his weedy
physique. They threw a soccer ball at him and he failed to catch it.
As he stood there uncertainly, the instructor, a tall beefy man, told
him he wasn't tough enough, and that he should report immediately to the
girls' gym. Amid laughter and razzing, Anson slinked away and went
where he was told.
In the girls' gym he explained what had happened to Ms. Rock, the
instructor. She was short and stocky, with a mannish haircut, tank top,
loose shorts, and running shoes. She sneered at him and told him to go
to the locker room to change. But she snatched his gym bag away from
him and sent three of the girls along to find him something appropriate
to wear. Once they were in the locker room, the girls pushed him around
and punched his shoulders. Then they opened the locker of one of them.
She was slim, so her clothes would fit Anson.
What he expected to be given was a T-shirt and shorts. Instead, she
handed him a cropped top that was cut off high on the chest, along with
a thong that would cover barely anything. He looked around for
someplace he could change in private, but they would have none of that.
One of them told him to get started. The other two stood there with
their hands on their hips, giving him no-nonsense looks. He meekly
began to get out of his street clothes. They made disparaging comments
about his weak body and smooth skin. Anson hooked his fingers under the
waistband of his shorts and hesitated.
"Let's go," said one girl. "Show us what you've got, lover man."
"Yeah," said another. "Give us a thrill."
He cringed as he lowered his last article of clothing and revealed his
pathetically small genitals. All three girls were convulsed with
laughter. They pointed and jeered and held onto each other for support,
as if they were in danger of collapsing from hilarity. Anson blushed
and started to cover himself with his hands, but a wag of the index
finger from the third girl warned him not to. He picked up the tiny
thong, glad to have at least that bit of covering. He stepped into it
and drew it up his legs. It was so snug that it outlined his undersized
male parts, making it plain how poorly endowed he was. Then he pulled
the top over his head and got it on. Standing there feeing ridiculous,
he wanted to beg them not to make him go out with the others, but he
could see that there was no pity to be had from them.
They pushed and shoved him ahead of them, out onto the floor of the gym,
where he was greeted by fresh gales of laughter. Ms. Rock declared
that, because he was the new 'girl', he would get a special position.
She directed him to the middle of the floor and had the others form a
wide circle around him. Half a dozen basketballs were distributed and
the instructor announced that it was time to play dodge ball. Anson
froze. They were going to throw those balls at him? His answer came
immediately, as one of the spheres hit him hard in the back. He
stumbled forward and another struck him in the stomach. His arms went
down protectively but a third was already in the air, and slammed him in
the side of the head, sending his glasses flying. The rest of the balls
were thrown. Female students scooped them all up and flung them again.
All half dozen kept striking him everywhere. Anson staggered around,
ineffectually trying to dodge, while the girls hurled the basketballs,
shouted, and cheered.
By the end he was sore all over. The girls retrieved the balls one last
time and tossed them into a net container. He walked away unsteadily.
Ms. Rock snapped at him, "You're too much of a pussy even to play with
the girls today. Go back to the locker room, loser." He shuffled off,
glad to escape. In the locker room he sat on a bench and hung his head.
As he looked down he saw a sweat sock lying on the concrete floor. He
picked it up, glanced around, and then held it under his nose. Anson
sniffed the soiled sock, savoring the slightly sour aroma of female
sweat. He rubbed it gently against his cheek. Because no girl wanted
to touch him or be touched by him, he had to settle for secondary
contact. Sometimes when he rode the bus he would sit next to a girl
and, after she got off, lean down to touch his nose to where her bottom
had just been.
Now he sat there gratefully breathing in the scent of an anonymous sole
and toes. There was a sexy high heel shoe nearby and he picked that up
too, rubbing it against the side of his face and even sucking on the
heel. He greedily inhaled the leather-and-perspiration odor and
imagined the soft white foot that had occupied the discarded shoe. His
hand crept to the unwanted thong he wore. As small as his penis was, it
was simple to free it from under the narrow crotch band. Anson stroked
himself slowly, eyes closed, oblivious to anything else that might be
happening. His head went back and he sighed with pleasure. His
immature balls drew up tight against his body. With his free hand he
reached under the cropped top and rubbed his receptive nipples with the
smelly sock. Anson was in pervert heaven.
"Hey, Annie," a female voice said, "having fun, girl?"
He yelped and pulled his hands away from his body. Half a dozen girls
had snuck back into the room without him detecting them, so deep was he
in his sexual reverie. They were all staring down at him with a mixture
of disgust and amusement. One of them said, "If you like dirty socks so
much, I'll give you mine." She sat and slipped off her running shoes to
reveal thick white socks. He could smell the sweat on them from where
he sat. She grinned nastily, handed him one... and told him to put it
over his penis. "That way we won't have to look at the ridiculously
small thing. You must be so ashamed not to have a real, full-sized
cock, like almost every other guy."
Anson whimpered but also accepted the proffered sock and fitted it over
his miniature erection. She made him resume stroking, pull up the front
of his cropped shirt, and finger his sensitive nipples. Then she took
her other sock, told him to open his mouth wide, and stuffed it between
his jaws. The girl next to her sat and removed her shoes, too. She
pulled off her socks, which were as fragrant as the ones already on and
in Anson. To his distress, she handed them to him and ordered the
humiliated male to add them to what was already in his mouth. He did,
ending up with one sock in each cheek and the other on his tongue. His
face was distorted by the bulky mass behind his lips.
But there was more. The next girl removed her socks and demanded that
he insert those, as well. He did, and they held his jaws open so far
that he couldn't close his mouth. The females didn't permit him to stop
wanking himself. The next girl didn't remove her socks; she got out of
her panties. Sneering at him, she put the worn lingerie over his head,
making sure that the crotch panel was in front of his nose, so that he
was forced to breath in the musky scent of her femininity. He blinked
back tears but his penis did not get soft. It was so small that he was
working it with just his thumb and forefinger. The girls thought the
whole scene was hilariously funny. They whispered lewd suggestions into
his ears and kissed the air directly next to his cheeks. He was
overcome by need but the one who had spoken first told him that if he
ejaculated, he would be very sorry, after what they would do to him.
So there he sat, putting on a show, as the rest of the girls finished
the class and reentered the room. They pointed and laughed and made
mean comments. A few of them slapped the back of his head. One pinched
his bulging cheeks, to bring up the color in them. That reminded
someone of rouge, so she produced a tube of lipstick and used it on his
wide-stretched mouth. Just his luck, the color was cherry red. That
was how he was, mouth full of socks, lips painted, the word 'STUPID'
still written on his forehead, pulling on his tiny member through a
dirty sock, when Ms. Rock walked in. She scowled at him, pinched his
nose, and twisted it hard. He made a muffled cry behind the socks and
fresh tears came to his eyes. Another girl used a cosmetic pencil to
color in his pale blond eyebrows and make them appear girly. That was
when the bell rang and it was time for him to return to class.
Someone tossed him a cheerleader skirt and he thankfully put it on. He
was allowed to discard the sock that he had been using to wank, and to
pull his brief top back down. But otherwise he was still the same
absurd figure that they had made him, braids and all. He was led back
to the classroom, where Ms. Stern observed him with open contempt. She
made him get down on hands and knees, crawl to the trashcan, and remove
the socks from his mouth to dump them there. Then he was allowed to
crawl back to his desk and get onto the seat. She announced a pop quiz.
At the same time, one of the girls slipped a folded piece of paper onto
his desktop and told him he could read it later.
The test sheets were passed around and he glanced at his. Anson was
smart enough, so he would be able to answer the questions without a
problem. At last, he told himself, there was a chance to excel. But
then he noticed that one of the girls, to his right side, was gesturing
to the teacher and then to him. Ms. Stern strode purposefully down the
aisle and snatched up the slip of paper. Opening it, she scowled at
him.
"So," she said seriously. "You thought you could cheat in my class,
sissy boy?"
He tried to say something but his mouth was still dry from the socks and
his throat was constricted by stress. She took him by the ear and
tugged him to his feet, then marched him to the front of the room in
front of everyone. She reminded him that she had said she was willing
to apply physical punishments. As he stood there trembling, she plunked
the dunce cap back on his head and fitted a chin strap under his jaw.
Then she made him pull her desk chair around in front of the desk. She
sat and dragged Anson over her lap, flipped up the short skirt, and was
pleased to see that the thong did nothing to cover his hairless bottom.
"All right, Annie," she told him. "You earned this -- cheater."
He was still trying to say something when her hand came down hard and
delivered a sharp blast of pain. Before he could recover from that the
second swat landed, followed by another and another, until he was
blubbering and sniffling and shedding hot tears. The girls hooted and
hollered and called him names like 'pansy' and 'wimp' and 'candy ass'.
The teacher said that his ass would look like candy -- cherry candy --
after she had finished reddening it. He wailed as she continued without
pause, making him kick his slender legs and buck under the blows. At
last she was done, whereupon she dumped him onto the hard floor. He lay
there, sprawled, looking up at the imperious woman, while his classmates
buzzed excitedly about his punishment. At last he was allowed to stand
up. But his ordeal was not over yet.
Someone fetched a folding wooden chair from the closet and it was set up
in the front of the room. After everyone had gotten a good look at his
abused backside, he was made to strip and then sit. Suddenly ropes were
in the hands of a trio of girls and they were tying him tightly to the
chair. He whined and whispered pleas for them to stop, but his
helplessness only incensed them to greater efforts. After he was bound
firmly, wearing only the dunce cap, markers were produced and Ms. Stern
told the girls they could each write something on his body. Smiling as
they did it, they labeled him 'wussy' and 'featherbrain' and 'nancy' and
'idiot' and 'weakling'. Several of them spit on his dick and the last
one wrote, 'dickless' on his belly, with an arrow pointing to the
appropriate area.
When they were done, the teacher resumed the test, telling him that he
would get a zero for his attempt to cheat. He sobbed and nodded his
understanding, even though the whole situation was totally unfair. The
final bell rang at last. He was freed and marched into the hallway,
where other students saw him and made jokes about his nudity and the
words written on him. Then the girls found a vacant locker, shoved him
into it and, with everyone cheering them on, locked him inside. They
hammered their fists on the door and yelled threats to leave him there
overnight. Then everyone left. He was trapped in that cramped space,
naked, sore, and demeaned.
He was surprised, a half hour later, when he heard the lock being
removed and the door was flung open. A mean-faced girl was standing
there, backed up by several others. She said, "Come on. They need you
for one of the after school special groups."
Anson didn't know what it was about, but he was thrilled to be free.
They shouldered him from side to side between them, all the way to the
room they were herding him toward. He entered and was dismayed to see
that it was an art class full of girls. Standing on a low platform was
a male model who they were sketching. But the man was tall and dark.
And muscular. And had the reproductive equipment of a breeding bull.
Anson's hair was unbraided and brushed out, before a big floppy bow was
attached to the top of his head. He had to don a pair of stockings and
girl's slip-on shoes. Then they put him alongside the hulking man who
posed proudly before them. The comparison was comical. Every female in
the room giggled or laughed out loud. Anson put his knees together and
hugged his narrow chest, but was told to model. He had to put his arms
out and let his hands hang from limp wrists. He had to stick out his
still red bottom and purse his lips. He even had to get down on hands
and knees and gaze up suggestively at the towering model.
An hour later he was done. He humbly requested his old clothes and
asked if he could clean the writing off, at least from his forehead.
They found his clothes and let him dress. Then they took him to the
ladies' room to get cleaned up. He started for the sink but was stopped
by a firm grip on an undeveloped bicep. Instead, he was steered to the
first booth along the wall and crowded inside. Strong female hands
forced him to his knees and grabbed the back of his neck. He looked
into the toilet bowl and wasn't sure if it had been flushed or not since
its last use. Anson tried to point that out but his face was pushed
into the water. He struggled but was too weak to fight back. They
dunked his head several times but didn't give him a chance to rub off
the offending message. Then, while he was still submerged, they flushed
the bowl. At last he was dragged backwards, fell onto his sore bottom,
and sat there with water running down onto his clothes.
He tried to say something, to ask them to please let him leave, but he
was manhandled (so to speak) to the second stall and the mistreatment
was repeated. After that, he realized that they intended to do the same
in the next four stalls as well. It was a long first day for him. He
had to walk back to his place with his hair soaked and his shirt wet.
Plus, the word was still quite clear on his forehead. It had been a
very bad first day at school.
After that it only got worse. They forced him to wear female clothes
all day long. He had to carry lip gloss, put it on, and freshen it up
in front of others. With his figure and face and long hair, he was
often mistaken for a girl. He had to refer to himself as 'Annie' and
speak in a soft high voice. His humiliation was endless. There were
other torments as well. In the locker room he had to lay on a bench,
face up, so girls could sit on his belly while they put on their shoes.
His grades stayed low because he was preoccupied with the awful things
happening to him and couldn't study or concentrate. He was often
spanked or face-slapped by Ms. Stern for his academic shortcomings.
At lunch the girls delighted in ruining his meals. They over-salted his
food, spit on it, and mixed items that didn't go together. Macaroni and
cheese with chocolate pudding was one of their favorites. A girl named
Chita brought in a bottle of super-hot pepper sauce and used it to
drench his chicken-and-rice casserole, so that the food burned his mouth
and made his nose run. Each day one of the female students would remove
her panties for him to use as a napkin. Sometimes they made him eat
bugs.
Often they would pull him down the hall by his long hair. Because they
wouldn't let him jerk off, when they teased him sexually his penis
dribbled pre-cum. So they gave him sanitary pads and he had to stuff
them into his panties to catch the moisture. If he forgot to walk with
a feminine gait, it earned him a spanking, usually in front of delighted
onlookers. The girls would make him kiss their feet and even put his
head up under their skirts to press his lips to the seats of their
panties. He was utterly disgraced, with no hope of ever gaining a
better reputation. One of the girls even made the suggestion that,
after graduation, a member of their group should marry him, so that he
could be kept in his lowly status for years and years to come. The
thought of that horrified him... but it made his tiny dick pulse, too.
******
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