Every character in this short is 18+. It contains cartoonishly large insertions and cumflation, and should not be taken too seriously.
I gently close the door behind me. It is with goosebumps on my buttcheeks that I feel thirty-or-so smirks and twice as many eager eyes behind my head. The only thing more embarrassing than not wearing panties under a short pleated skirt is knowing everyone knows you’re not wearing panties under your short pleated skirt. I take a deep breath before turning. For better or worse, what started as one-sided bullying evolved into a war of attrition between privilege and determination, fueling gossip for years to come. I’ve won every battle so far, but I have a bad feeling about today. Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy some scary-big dildos.
I’m a few minutes late to school every morning because my mom works nights and brings me here as soon as she can. Having a hardworking mom is all it takes to get bullied in this preppy cesspool. While she works her second job, the rich Hillsborough moms work on their alcoholism. I have special permission to come in as long as I don’t disturb the lesson. That hasn’t been easy these past few weeks.
There’s a schoolbag on my desk. Its purpose clear when I get sufficiently close; it hides the tip of the new monolithic cock suction-cupped to the seat of my chair from the teacher standing at the blackboard. This one’s so tall, the blunt, coconut-size head is wobbling gently from the imperceivable breeze of the air conditioning.
It’s a monster of a dick. My rival Kimmy really outdid herself; at least 20 inches of deeply ribbed rubber, slightly curved as to grind the birth canal while it fights its way through the tightness. I refuse to believe it has been designed for human use, but... sigh, it’s about to be. A draw motivation from this being the final battle. It has to be; no bigger dildo has to exist in the entire world.
I don’t let the fear show even as I walk to my own spit roast, even as a dozen hidden phones slip out of schoolgirl skirts to film my triumph or demise. Watching me squirm is what Kimmy wanted from the beginning.
As for the other bitches, they used to laugh almost to the point of peeing themselves. Now the tide is shifting; it’s not the same laughter as the first time I chose to defiantly sit on the dildo instead of spending the day squirming at the edges of my seat to avoid it. Now it’s entertainment, cheering for the gladiator risking her life, and it’s damaging Empress Kimmy’s reputation of number-one-badass-bitch.
I look at the smirk on that slut’s face, commit it to memory for motivational purposes before taking the final step to my desk behind hers. Kimmy thinks she’s won. We’ll see. I move my chair back until it hits the desk behind mine. It’s so much heavier than usual.
The cock head is higher than my crotch, almost to my chin. So I bend it forward. More. More... If I let go right now, it would probably whip the phone out of the hands of the girl sitting behind me. I lift my leg high, flashing my pussy to five different phones to straddle the bent shaft. It’s fighting against my weight, and I let it dig into my squished pussy lips. I shuffle forward until the tip catches my vaginal opening, where I allow myself the subtlest of gasps. Please don’t let my obituary read: suicide by giant dildo.
It needs to happen fast and smooth; the teacher asking me why I’m taking so long to sit down or getting stuck halfway through would be signs of weakness. The game’s rules are nebulous, but I know that Kimmy’s ready to count anything as a win. I’m just sitting down on a chair as if there isn’t a thick log riding up my cooch. No emotions required.
I sink as I take more and more weight off my toes, fulfilling the dildo’s urge to straighten. My hands are casually by my sides, but they are secretly searching for the edges of my chair because I’m afraid my cervix had too much time to recover from my nightly baseball-bat-dilation training. I’m going to hit a wall soon that needs more than my light bodyweight to overcome.
Fuck it. I can’t take a chance. I throw myself at the mercy of the cock. One big swing. It’s a facial workout not to wince when the cock head punches my cervix, but it collapses on itself deep enough for my fingers to catch the seat. I then pull with everything I have. My cervix dilates, my womb stretches. Eventually, the mega dildo bottoms out in my baby maker, but that’s not enough... there’s still another six inches. “Stretch dammit,” I tell my womb, internally, of course; on the outside, I’m just a simple girl sitting on a simple chair. But when this simple girl finally feels the cold lacquered wood on her bare bum, she can’t help but crack a sly smile. My pussy is resting uncomfortably on the big black rubber balls of the largest dildo in the world. In your face, Kimmy.
I move the school bag off the desk. It’s heavy, and notice too late the tube that links it to the dildo. It vibrates with the sound of a compressor, white liquid flowing up into the fake rubber balls.
My womb is as tight as a condom on the cock, and, like a condom, it begins inflating at the tip, pressuring my other organs. I’m about to cry out when I see Kimmy’s blonde curls swinging in front of my face. She’s turning around, and that’s the burst of motivation I need to make of my face a sculpture.
“That’s real sperm, by the way,” Kimmy says with her usual obnoxiousness I used to think only existed in teen movies. “I didn’t think you’d mind getting pregnant since being a single mother runs in your family.”
Money can’t buy happiness, but apparently, it can buy a gallon of rejected donor semen at the sperm bank.
So much cum pumps into my womb that I know my fertile ovaries will be saturated with the lukewarm slush. If my eggs are overachievers like I am, it’s not a question of if I get pregnant but whether it’s twins or triplets. I have to stay cool, though; my ruined life is no reason to let Kimmy have an ounce of happiness.
“Even if you filled me up with the sperm of a thousand different guys every day for the rest of the year, I still wouldn’t come close to your record. You’re like the Wayne Gretsky of sluts.” I say, confident she would furiously google who that was later.
Kimmy makes a face at me but my vision is blurring as cum continues to flood my womb.
“Sienna, is there something you want to share with the class?” That’s my name. The teacher would never dare pick on Kimmy, even if she’s the one facing the wrong way.
“No, sir,” I try to say, but my womb has ballooned enough to press against my diaphragm. I just shake my head instead.
“Then why don’t you come up here and solve this equation.”
Weird that I’m always the one asked to solve shit. Almost as if the teacher is using the only girl who knows basic math to try and convince himself he’s not terrible at his job. It might backfire today: the smart girl’s brain is swimming in cum. I don’t know if I could solve 1+1 right now, but the most significant challenge might be walking twenty feet to the chalkboard.
I stand up, and the chair lifts with me as if glued to my butt. I push down on it, wiggling my butt like a dancing bee, but when the tip of the dildo plops loose out of my womb, I realize my cervix has gaped to hell, and the massive cock is the dam keeping a gallon of cum from running down my thighs, soaking my knee-high socks, and filling my shoes. The videos of me leaving a trail of cum to the front of the class despite walking like a penguin that needs to pee would go viral for all the wrong reasons, and Kimmy would win. Kimmy can’t win.
The teacher doesn’t suspect that I have a fake cock the size of his arm under my uniform but, every second I spend behind my desk erodes his patience, so I act quickly. I sit back down hard, hard enough to stuff the rubber testicles alongside the giant shaft in my pussy.
I don’t have time to cry about my broken cunt. I fiddle with the suction cup under my ass with every available finger. It’s like peeling a stubborn sticker, but I catch an edge... and I’m free. Free from the chair, not the feeling that I’m about to give birth to a table leg. My last action is to yank the tube away and pray that the pinnacle of dildo technology comes equipped with a check valve.
My skirt is caught on its waistband. My ass and a hint of the huge pussy plug visible to everyone behind me. But it doesn’t feel like a walk of shame. I’m walking proudly with a perfectly acceptable amount of limp. It doesn’t feel like I lost.
Looking back to make sure I haven’t sprung a leak as I’m about to cross the teacher’s desk, I notice my exposed ass and flick my skirt over the evidence. The cock, so unyielding a minute ago, now want to explode out of my loins, but I’ve made it to the board and keep my thighs locked tight.
The numbers and graph are a fuzzy abstract painting. The chalk in my hand won’t stop shaking. I let my math instinct take over a draw random lines on the board. The teacher shakes his said but then says: “Correct, as usual,” and the class erupts in cheers, enough to make us both jump. The teacher thinks he finally made math cool somehow, but I know this is the culmination of a month-long build-up. Like the moon landing, the class collectively decided that carrying the largest dildo known to man and a ballooning womb full of cum to the front of the class and solving a slope-intercept was the finish line.
I turn to the class, a hand behind my back, tucking a protruding ballsack back into my girl pocket. Kimmy’s the only one with her arms crossed, but I stare at her until she resigns herself to a slow clap. This is not the best day of my life because I didn’t have a twenty-inch dildo up my fanny when I won the spelling bee last year, but a win’s a win. I take those.