Valedictorian turns Slut
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The Valedictorian Speech free porn video
THE VALEDICTORIAN SPEECH
By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2019
Warning: Humour.
Author's Note: None.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,
places, events, locales, and incidents are used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is
purely coincidental.
RT
NICE GUY
Eric was a nice young man from a humble, hard-working family. They lived
in a middle-class part of town. His dad worked in construction. His mom
worked in retail at the mall. His sister Roxy was 16 and in high school.
Eric was 18 and had just graduated high school. He thought of himself as
'normal' in just about every possible way: sports, hobbies, school,
friends, girls, etc.
His family was not rich and that posed a challenge. Eric was smart and had
been accepted into a prestigious university. The family's non-poverty
circumstances precluded Eric's being awarded a scholarship. So, he needed
some money to pay for his tuition and books, let alone residence.
"You could always give my sister a call," his mom jokingly said to him one
day. "She always seems to be bragging about her successes in business.
Maybe she could get you a job that pays good money." Eric's mom didn't
really like her sister Nadine and was glad that she lived three thousand
kilometres away. She did respect her sister's apparent business successes
but didn't actually know what they were.
To Eric, Aunt Nadine was somewhat of a family mystery. He had always been
fascinated by her vitality, exuberance, and flagrantly, brazenly zestful
embrace of life and passion. And he now needed money and she might be able
to provide it. He called her.
"Eric, no problem," Aunt Nadine cheerfully said. "There's a variety of
different jobs that pay varying amounts. We'll decide upon one that is
suitable for you and you can enjoy a debt-free first year at university!"
Eric packed for the long bus trip to spend the summer at Aunt Nadine's.
FIRST SUMMER JOB
"How are you doing, sweetie? We're almost home." Aunt Nadine's voice
punctured Eric's sleep. He struggled to sit up. He was shocked to see his
Aunt drive in the direction of his house. "Where are we?" he asked. Nadine
pulled the Audi over to the side of the road.
"Sweetie, look at me. Eric is a little, silly, pumpkin-alligator-
toothpick-koala." She smiled.
Eric suddenly remembered his summer. It had been fantastic and
exhilarating, demanding and rewarding. He knew he had made lots of money
through hard work, worn industrial clothing, used a framing hammer, cut
wood with a circular saw, and carried boxes and other heavy things hither
and thither. He knew he had cleaned himself diligently each day after work
and had shaved all his body hair off in order to minimize the risk of
workplace accidents. He knew he had reveled and caroused many weekends and
late nights with Aunt Nadine and her raucous circle of fun-loving,
industrial worker friends.
He was a bit troubled that all of the details of his summer seemed, at
best, vague and, at worst, ersatz, but he could not deny that he felt
great!
They arrived. His Aunt did not attempt to go in. She waved and drove off
as his mom came out the front door. "Why did you shave your head bald?"
she asked.
"Workplace safety," he replied honestly and trod up to his room. He
checked his on-line banking. He gasped: he had amassed just over $45,299
in three months! He soon recovered from his astonishment and paid his
university bills.
He spent a few days helping his dad with house maintenance, his mom with
housecleaning, and his sister Roxy with house partying, Eric felt rooted
at home and refreshingly ready to start first year university. Even his
hair was starting to grow back. He hadn't a care in the world.
FIRST SCHOOL YEAR
School started. He made friends fast, mainly because he was nice, likeable
guy. He became known as a good friend to many. He also judiciously,
subtly, evenly helped his less-wealthy friends: a coffee here, a snack
there, $15 toward a needed textbook, and so on. His shoulders for crying
and ears for listening were also valued. His common-sense advice was often
heeded, and his sound, modern morals gave others a clear, sincere point of
reference. Eric was someone they could rely on.
The best university experience a student can have is a debt-free one. Eric
had no debts. He could and did focus on his courses. He studied (and
helped tutor some of his friends). He had more time because he didn't need
a part-time job. His past summer's job gave him this privilege, and he
knew it. His marks were superb: Dean's Honours List. He felt truly
grateful to his Aunt.
Toward the end of his first year, another student whom Eric knew slightly
sat down in front of him at the usual cafeteria. Mitchell was a kind,
caring, sensitive, gentle, delicate, young man; he hadn't a single evil
atom in his body. "Eric, if I may please ask you a question."
"Go ahead, Mitch. What's up?"
"Eric, do you have a small beauty mark about two inches under your left
nipple?" Mitch nervously covered his mouth with his pale, fragile, left
hand.
Eric was surprised. He did have one exactly as described. He scrambled to
think of where Mitch may have seen it and why he was asking about it.
"That's a bit of a bizarre question, but to answer, yes, yes I do have one
there, Mitch. What's up?"
Mitch's eyes brightened and he smiled warmly. "Gosh, I don't know what to
say! I just truly admire you and think that you are wonderful!" Mitch
quickly stood up, and raced away, giggling like a little schoolgirl who
has just confessed a crush.
"What the hell was all that about," Eric wondered. Thus ended his first
year at university.
Once back home, he raised the idea of again working with Aunt Nadine with
his parents. They offered no objections; Eric had seemed perfectly happy
and healthy after last summer. Maybe, Eric's mom thought, she had been
unfairly judging her sister Nadine all these years.
"Eric, that's fantastic," Nadine gushed. "Another year means more
experience and more money. I'll pay for your ticket and fly you out here.
This is going to be the best summer ever!"
SECOND SUMMER JOB
"Eric, sweetie. Wake up! We're almost home. We're gonna land in 15
minutes!" Aunt Nadine's voice again punctured Eric's sleep. He struggled
to sit up in his first-class cabin seat. He was shocked to see that he was
wearing a three-piece pinstriped suit, a white dress shirt, cufflinks, a
modern tie, a Rolex Submariner (stainless steel, black face, no date), and
black Oxfords.
His Aunt looked at him, softly grabbed his lapels, and pulled him toward
her. It would have been a sultry gesture except that she was his Aunt, so
it, like, wasn't.
"You have so much to be proud of. Eric is a little, silly, juniper-
Westphalia-aardvark-asteroid." She laughed.
Eric suddenly remembered his second summer. It too had been fantastic and
exhilarating, demanding and rewarding. He knew he had made lots of money
through hard work, worn office clothing, used a calculator, made PERT and
Gantt charts, prepared speeches about stuff, and set bland agenda for
whatever meetings this day and that day. He knew he had cleaned himself
diligently each day after work because of office air quality conditions
and had shaved all his body hair off in order to minimize dry-cleaning
costs. He knew he had soireed the reception circuit and had fraternized
many worknights in smoke-filled, wood-panelled boardrooms with Aunt Nadine
and her serious-minded executive and law firm partner friends.
Again, he was somewhat disturbed that the details of his summer
experiences seemed weak and pale. But --- again --- he could not deny that
he felt great!
At the airport, Aunt Nadine said her farewell. "I've got to make my
connection to the Bahamas. There's a baccarat game I can't miss tonight at
the Nassau Casino. Love you, Eric. Toodles!"
Eric's limousine arrived at the family home. Eric got out, regretting that
he hadn't been more careful to avoid spilling the Taitinger on his pants.
It was a small spot but nonetheless...
His dad was impressed. "At this rate, my boy," he beamed, "every top-notch
business will want to hire you. You're doing us proud, son."
His mother moved closer to him and studied his face. "Have you been
wearing eyeliner?"
Eric knew he had been wearing it. He answered her as honestly as he could.
"Mom, a lot of trading on the exchange floor is done by eye contact. Raise
an eyebrow. Wink. Double-blink. By wearing eyeliner, other traders could
see me better, raise or lower prices, buy or sell, swap or short, more
easily. It's a normal thing in most stock exchanges, eyeliner is. Eyeliner
and eyebrows; all eye communication. Eye shadow too."
Up in his room, he turned on his laptop to check his banking. He collapsed
on the floor: $348,261 and growing as he watched. Deposit after deposit.
Two hundred and fifty dollars now. One hundred and forty-one dollars ten
minutes later. He was absolutely flabbergasted. Just what had Aunt Nadine
got him into this past summer? Was he really that successful wearing
eyeliner on the trading floor selling swaps and shorting derivatives? That
is, after all, what he knew he had done.
Feeling a bit disoriented, he quickly changed back into his regular jeans
and sweats and went downstairs. For the next few days, he assisted his mom
in her women's league rummage sale, assisted his dad in finally repairing
that old '57 jalopy in the driveway, and assisted his sister Roxy in
selling cookies for her soccer team. Spending time with them kept him
grounded. He felt their love and reciprocated in kind.
He knew he would be ready for school again. Apart from a slight regret
that his hair on his bald head wasn't growing back faster, Eric was uber-
relaxed and mellow.
SECOND SCHOOL YEAR
Eric's second year was in many ways better than his first. He kept his old
friends and made many more new ones. Three of his friends would have
dropped out but for Eric's discreet financial assistance. "I'll pay you
back," each of them said, but Eric would have none of it. He insisted that
they consider his gift just that, a gift, no strings attached. Others he
helped in other low-key ways.
His reputation grew campus wide. People saw true leadership and
appreciated it. His volunteering and other charitable work gained the
admiration of many. His humility and sympathetic manner were considered
exemplary.
And with his soul and conscience clear and with his financial position
secure, Eric could again focus on his studies. He made Dean's Honours List
--- again.
That said, however, there were a few unusual moments during the year.
Consider the following example.
Eric started dating a young philosophy student named Mei Ling. By the
middle of their first date, they advanced from holding hands, to kissing,
to petting, to mutual masturbation, to 69, to mish vaginal sex, and
finally to A2M. Eric loved Mei's wanton sluttiness.
On their second date, Mei Ling tried to shove three fingers up Eric's bum
as he was humping her. He moved her hand away. She moved it back. Away.
Back, Away. Back. He finally moved himself away from her, and his rigidity
faded to black. "Mei, what the fuck are you doing? I don't like that."
Mei Ling flashed her teeth, hissed, and spread her fingers like a cat
ready to pounce. She screamed, "Come here, sissy boy! Let me fly the Red
Dragon into your ass!" She lifted up a massive (red) dildo; attached to it
was a strap-on belt. Eric fled.
But Mei Ling was not an isolated case. Not always a Red Dragon, just
always something bizarre. Eric had no interest in wearing diapers
(Cheryl), being a French maid (Vickie), wearing a corset (Allison), nor
receiving enemas (Marylou). Eric fled them all.
Consider another example. Mitch kept sitting near him or next to him. Eric
did not mind Mitch at all. Yet it struck Eric that Mitch seemed to shadow
him almost everywhere. And Mitch also roped some of his equally soft and
delicate friends into the Follow-Eric-Everywhere-Club. Eric sometimes felt
a tiny bit irritated by their groupie-like presence (but only just a tiny
bit because Eric had a good soul and was generous in understanding
others).
Mitch covered his small Cupid's bow with his gentle, tender, right hand
and gushed at Eric. "It's so admirable what you are doing. To be out
there. To be seen. To be heard. It's your voice and your body and you are
so proud of it. You're my hero!" Mitch giggled excitedly.
Eric was a bit puzzled. "It was just a 5 minute presentation to the
history seminar on William the Conqueror. It was nothing that deserves any
hero worship, Mitch."
Mitch giggled tremendously. "Oh, you slay me! Alright then, we'll just
keep it our secret. I love secrets. And Tinkerbelle loves secrets too!"
Mitch's last sentence was accompanied by his pointing at Eric.
Eric got up. "I really have to get going to my advanced calculus class."
As he left the giggling Mitch behind, Eric wondered to himself what Mitch
was so giddy about. And what the fuck was that Tinkerbelle shit?
School over, he went home.
His marks for second year were phenomenal. His parents thought the world
of him. Stellar student. Ace friend. All round good fellow. Humble too.
"You're the best of the best, young man," his dad said.
Eric checked his bank account. He had started second year with just over
$360,000. It now contained a little over $829,241. He quietly paid off his
parents' mortgage ("a bank sweepstakes" their banker told his parents). He
bought his sister Roxy the cute, little, cherry red Mazda that she had
wanted ("It's too dangerous for you to be taking the bus," he justified it
to her).
It wasn't just family. A local drama group got some money for a summer
production. Eleven kittens that were to be euthanized were given a
reprieve because of Eric's small donation to the humane society. All
(except the tiger-striped one) were later placed in new homes. These and
others were the beneficiaries of Eric's sincere goodwill. Eric had well
learnt the lesson that a little money could go a long way to help many.
Not long after finishing his second year, he called Aunt Nadine and
expressed a desire to go back to work for a third summer.
"Eric, are you sure? I'd love to have you out here again. But, sweetie,
remember there's more to life than work. You don't need the money. Why not
enjoy a last summer before graduating by, say, touring the truffle fields
in Europe or swimming with the dolphins in Mexico? Also, since you've done
blue-collar and white-collar jobs here, perhaps there's not much more for
you to do."
Eric detected a slight degree of reluctance in her voice, but he brushed
the thought of it away. He answered with enthusiasm.
"I've done so well with you each summer, Aunt Nadine, that I really feel
that I want to push myself as far as possible to see just how far I can go
in business. There's still the executive levels in your companies, right?"
Eric took confidence in his accomplishments the previous summers and in
his standing at school. He could do it. He would do it. It was thus almost
already done.
Nadine was so obliging. "Yes, executive levels, that's what we'll call
them. Okay then: I'll give you every opportunity to go as far as you can
in the time that we have, my beloved nephew."
THIRD SUMMER JOB
Several weeks later, Nadine jostled Eric awake in the Learjet. "Eric, it's
wakey-wakey time. Eric is a little, silly, bubblegum-apple-zebra-polygon."
She grinned.
Eric suddenly remembered his third summer. It had been awesome and
inspiring, rewarding and spectacular. He knew he had made lots of money
through crafty negotiations, had dressed in ballroom tuxedos as a matter
of routine, used a conductor's baton, placed bids at auctions at
Sotheby's, and drafted nuanced provisions in merger and acquisition
documents. He knew that he had scrubbed himself clean to remove all of the
toxic dust that plagued the city this past summer each day after work and
that he had shaved all his body hair off in order to mitigate the effects
of dry skin. He knew he had mingled gracefully many times with Aunt Nadine
and her distinguished circle of witty, erudite friends.
Of course, all of his memories were just a bit vague. But he was past the
point of worrying about that. He felt great!
He was dressed immaculately in a Hugo Boss designer suit. His brogues
glistened. His Omega shone. His fedora covered his shiny, bald head. He
got home and his parents were astonished by his magnificence.
"We're so immensely proud of you," his dad said. His mom's concern about
the multiple piercing holes in his ears were allayed by Eric's honestly
held explanation that these acupuncture holes mitigated the risk of brain
cancer from cell phones. His mom seemed somewhat satisfied with that
answer.
He sipped his Grand Marnier as he checked his bank account: $2,459,386 and
growing. He put on his jeans, sweats, and runners. He cut the lawn for his
dad, he did the washing for his mom, and he taught his sister Roxy basic
calculus. Eric was a wonderful human being.
LAST SCHOOL YEAR
But school began awkwardly this third and final year. Most of his long-
time friends seemed a bit distant. "Hi, sorry, I was kinda busy and
forgot." That sort of distancing. "Oh yeah, sure, lunch next week
sometime, maybe." That sort of stuff. Nothing blatant. Nothing obvious.
Just a little drifting, easily coupled with a tad of avoidance. Eric
sensed that his friends were dropping him. He did not know why.
It wasn't just his closer friends; it was acquaintances too. As an
example, he offered Sara Collins (a ghastly woman) tutorial assistance for
their Renaissance Italy course. She desperately needed it; she was
profoundly stupid and immensely dumb. But she surprisingly rejected his
kind offer. "Don't you dare touch my panties and bras, you fifi," she
said, storming off.
He also soon found that he could not get a date. There was mostly, "I'm
doing my hair that night." One girl declined his offer, saying she could
not compete with his growing celebrity. "But it was just a picture in the
neighbourhood newsletter of me handing the daycare centre a small cheque
for $200 for their Valentine's Day party," he honestly countered
hopelessly. The worst was the time another young lass told him, "It's
really brave what you're doing, but I think you need professional help.
Bye-bye." Eric had no idea what she was talking about.
And thus he one day found himself in the usual cafeteria contemplating
life. His grades were excellent. Rumour had it he was going to be selected
Valedictorian. Yet socially, well, most things had fallen apart this past
year. He did not know why.
Mitch sat down with him. Mitch often just looked at him with some degree
of amazement, hero worship. Eric was at his wit's end.
"Mitch, be honest with me. Why do people try to engage me in sex talk all
the time? Why is it that every single girl I ask out wants to take a laser
to my pubic hair or whip me on a cross?"
Mitch laughed. "Tinkerbelle!" he shouted gleefully.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Eric was slowly stewing and was at
risk of possibly perhaps maybe blowing up and smashing Mitch's face inside
out.
Mitch saw his reaction and cowered a bit. "Seriously? Are you shitting
me?"
Eric stared at Mitch. "I have no fucking idea what you are talking about.
And now I will kill you if you don't talk and tell me."
Mitch gulped and told Eric to calm down. "Eric, you are a dead ringer for
the namesake star of a subscription porn website called 'Tinkerbelle
Tranny' that started about three years ago. Most of the videos on that
site have been illegally copied onto PornHub and all the other major porn
sites. They're out there forever now. And the star of all the videos on
that site looks like you. Exactly like you. Scary exactly like you.
"You do have a small birthmark high on the inside of your right thigh,
right?" Mitch knowingly glanced at Eric's groin and smiled.
"What the fuck is the website's address?" Eric whispered in horror.
THE INDELICATE MEETING
"You fucking cunt!" Eric raged at his Aunt. He had chartered the Airbus to
take him to his Aunt's luxury island in the south Pacific. His separately
transported Mercedes had raced to the cliff-top villa. The sun blazed off
his Patek Phillipe as he stormed through her first living room and down
the marbled hallway.
The maids stood silently in the shadows of the gilded hall.
Eric and Aunt Nadine stared at each other, he with anger, she with
amusement. The Dom Perignon he brought her was perfectly chilled. They
each held their Waterford crystal glasses at perfect waist height. The
caviar and crisps lay on the silver platters.
"Oh, Eric, lighten up. So what? We put you under a wee bit of hypnosis,
with some serious drugs in aid, from the moment you got here each year.
Yes, we gave you bullshit memories about bullshit jobs that you never did.
Eric would not have it. "The first year you had me be a webcam solo sissy
slut! I never asked for that."
Nadine brushed his concerns aside. "Look, you can't hypnotize someone into
doing things that they don't really want to do, you know that, right?" He
stared at her. She waved her hand and continued. "Or you could say that
you established a name and a market for your looks. And
'SleazyBlondeNomad96' remains a great brand name. Just spin it, baby."
Eric fumed. "Aargh! SleazyBlondeNomad96 was shoving dildos up her ass and
in her mouth all summer long. My ass. My mouth. And I didn't even know it.
And that crazy electric blue wig! And that disgusting violet mini-skirt? I
looked like a prehistoric whore from a psychotic Barney dinosaur movie."
Nadine smiled and answered: "The Red Dragon piece was a big hit too,
especially in Japan. It's a cash cow! You cleaned up on the licensing
rights to it. That's what I mean about multi-pronged marketing. Frankly,
though, me and the crew didn't think you could swallow it all; you really
surprised us that day." The pride in her nephew was evident on her face.
Eric glared at her. "The second summer was just straight babyfication,
sissification, and feminization videos. I fucking hate diapers! How the
fuck do I explain to my mom, your sister, my spit roast with Bubba and
Leroy? I've now eaten so much cunt and so many dildos that I can't stand
the smell of salmon or trout or silicone. And what if my sister sees me in
that yellow outfit with the saffron hair and the bonnet? I am so fucking
ruined."
Eric sat down and started to sob. "Gangbangs, fistings, and shemales in
the third summer? What were you thinking of? You should have been
protecting me. You're my Aunt!" His face was filled with despair. Eric
felt defeated and lost.
"I have to deliver my valedictorian speech tomorrow. Half of my friends
have disowned me. The other half soon will. The Dean is trying to get me
off the stage, I think. Everyone sneers at me. I'm never gonna get any
sort of respectable job. My reputation is in tatters. My life is over."
Nadine tried humour and spritely said, "At least your tramp stamps always
came off!" He sobbed even more.
Nadine looked at her nephew. She did like him very much, in a healthy
Aunt-nephew way. She had seen that he had had a financial problem and had
taken measures to help him overcome it. She soothed her own soul, thinking
of the many forms he had signed consenting to undergo anything she had
arranged. She forgot he had signed them under her hypnosis.
But, anyway, she believed he now needed to learn a lesson and to grow up.
"Eric, look at me." He looked up at her. "Life is an exercise in
discretion. You choose red or blue, or A or B, or left or right, or up or
down. You then live with the consequences of your choice.
"Look, I chose left and I have this, this, this, and that. Your mother
chose right and doesn't have this, this, this, nor that. You're just 21
for fuck's sakes. You flew down here on an extravagance, on a chartered
plane. You could have phoned me or video-conferenced or something. But no,
you chose a luxurious way to get here. You have worldly choices that few
others do."
She paused. "Spend your wealth; you earned it. Enjoy life. Only you and I
know the 'unknowingly' earned it aspect. Correct, you did not choose to
earn it that way. But that's water under the bridge now. Everyone else
thinks Tinkerbelle is intentional, the real you, or part of you at least.
And Tinkerbelle is a financial success. At 21."
She looked at him fondly. "Eric, you can run from this or you can own it.
You can expose me, have me arrested, and so on, and also distance yourself
from SleazyBlondeNomad96, and you would certainly lose an aunt who loves
you. Alternatively, you can seize, own it, and proclaim it. And you can
explore the world and life through the lens of luxury and with a settled
mind."
"What's done is done. Just, please, please, please, think about whether
you want to control your life or to have it controlled by others. Think,
Tinkerbelle, think." She chuckled at the last sentence. Eric stared
daggers at her.
THE SPEECH
"I'm going to tell you why I am this university's valedictorian, and why
you are not. How I could study at leisure for classes to get A pluses
while you were sweating away in some shitty part-time job, not learning,
and getting just Cs and Ds. Why I am graduating with a Mercedes in the
parking lot and a Beamer in the garage, and why you take the bus. Why I am
going to retire now, and why you are just starting to slave away at your
pathetic proletarian life of the next four decades. Why I already have
more money in the bank than any of you will ever earn in your lifetime.
"The salacious rumours about me are true. And if it took me a fuck, a
bang, and a blow to get ahead on this planet, then so be it; I've got the
biggest head start in history. I'm 21: envy me.
"To all of my so-called friends who have been laughing at me these past
few months, go fuck yourselves. Never ask me for anything ever again.
Don't expect anything from me either, except scorn, you wretched, poverty-
fated scum.
"And you, Dean Dickhead, look at your socks. They have holes in them.
You're a Dean for fuck's sakes; can't you afford a new pair of socks, you
cheap, stupid bastard?"
And so Eric's speech went on. He proudly claimed his sissified, cum slut
web identity, described it in detail, and then smeared it and his business
acumen in people's faces. Why? Because he had the luxury of choice, of
unfettered discretion. And because he was comfortable enough in his
heterosexual skin to do so.
He closed by telling everyone to fuck off and die.
"Thank you," were his last words.
Silence ruled. His parents were mortified. The faculty was stunned. His
fellow graduates sat there ashamed, emasculated, neutered, valueless,
impoverished. They railed with despair at the truth, the prescience, of
his prognostications and their dismal, inevitable, grim destinies. People
recalled the speech years afterward, getting most of the details right
because someone posted the entire video of it online and it had more than
fifteen million views.
Roxy loved it. She had always admired her big brother. A leader, a true
leader. He was always there to show her the better way, the better path.
He was so normal, a stand-up fellow, one of the best ever. Her shining
star. Her heart raced. Her breath was short. Her body was electrified.
And, because of her older brother's stirring speech, her teenage loins
were juiced. She hurried her phone out of her pocket. "Aunt Nadine, I'm
going to university this year, desperately need money, am over 18, and
really want a summer job with you."
END
By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2019
Becky
- 13.03.2021
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- Category:
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