Part 1: Meet Hillary Hagg
Prom was only two weeks away and Hillary Hagg still didn’t have a date. The young woman couldn’t quite understand why as she stood before the mirror in one of the lady’s rooms of Benjamin Dover High. She was wearing the tightest jeans she could squeeze her chunky thighs into, teetered around on the highest pair of square-toed platform boots she could find… she had read in a fashion magazine that square toes made ones feet appear smaller and even purchased them two sizes too small to give the illusion of having normal sized feet.
Withdrawing a pair of socks from her gym bag, she drenched them in her favorite perfume (Poison) in an attempt to cover the pungent smell that infused them after having worn them in gym class just the period prior. After she was satisfied, Hillary then stuffed one sock each into her already overflowing bra. She’d stuffed so much toilet paper into the bra that morning there was barely enough room in the double-D sized bra for her own double-A size breasts. But Hillary was determined, if not particularly bright, and within minutes she had given herself the illusion of having more cleavage. The fake breasts even looked almost real if one ignored the lumpiness, and the way her left tit had a tendency to veer to the left.
The bell announcing the beginning of the next period rang, but Hillary didn’t care. She would only be missing English class, and getting a date for prom was far more important. Besides, she could speak English just fine, why did she need too study such a pointless subject?
By the time Hillary was finished stuffing her bra and touching up her make-up, the class period was just about to end. Hillary, pleased with her work, began to smile at herself in the mirror but stopped when she noticed that any facial movement caused the pancake make-up (which she used to cover up her freckles and give herself what she thought looked like a porcelain complexion) to crumble and flake off.
“Note to self,” she said aloud to no one in particular in her nasally high-pitched voice, “I just have to remember not to smile.” Hillary then spun about in front of the mirror. “Wow! I look hot!” she said aloud, again. From one of the stalls came a loud snort and Hillary jumped in surprise.
“Hello?” she called out. “Is someone there? Are you okay? You sound sick.”
Tabitha Pester, one of the school’s hardcore Goths sauntered out of the stall and looked down her nose at Hillary. “Well, I WAS fine.” The pale brunette flicked her cigarette butt to the floor and brushed past Hillary on her way to the door.
“Oh, Tabby,” Hillary mewled, feigning concern, “Is there anything I can do?” Hillary always did her best to ingratiate herself with Tabitha as she was terrified of the beautiful Goth. Tabitha did indeed cut an imposing figure with her long black hair and heavy, dramatic makeup. But Hillary had more reason than that to fear her. Tabitha had beaten her up in kindergarten and stuffed her into the play oven during playtime. It was an experience that still gave Hilary nightmares. And what was worse, the teacher had not punished Tabitha because she’d said that Hillary has deserved the treatment for not having had the manners to share the Lego’s when Tabitha demanded them.
“Don’t call me, Tab-“ Tabitha stopped mid-sentence and sniffed, turning slightly green when the stench of the sickeningly sweet perfume and sweaty gym socks hit her. She pressed her face against the leather sleeve of her jacket. “What is that perfume you’re wearing? Malithon?” She backed away toward the bathroom door.
Hillary smiled. “Oh no, it’s Poison.”
“I believe it,” mumbled Tabitha pulling open the door and gulping down the fresh air.
“Thanks!” Hillary called after her, then gathered her own things and departed the bathroom just as the bell rang dismissing class.
When Hillary stepped into the sea of students her eyes immediately fell upon her prey: Thomas Seifer. Tom was the sexiest guy in school with his long blond hair, broad shoulders and sparkling blue eyes that could melt a woman with just one glance. And even better, last she’d heard, Tom had not yet found a date for Prom. She’d made up her mind that he would be her date, and she would do whatever it took. Besides how could he resist her with her newly acquired breasts and picture perfect make-up?
Sidling up in front of him, Hillary batted her long, obviously fake eyelashes at her prey, and cooed, “Do you have anything
on
for next period, Tom?”
“Just study hall,” the handsome young man answered laconically in a flat tone. “Why?”
“I thought we could go somewhere and get friendly,” Hillary answered in what she hoped was her best flirtatious manner.
“Don’t you have a class to go to?” Tom pointedly wondered, as Hillary was known to the entire populace of the school to be on the bottom of the senior class, grade wise. The only person who had a lower G.P.A. was a poor girl by the name of Felicity Green, who had died in a car crash the year before; although apparently the school administration hadn’t yet tumbled to the fact that she was dead and kept giving her zeros in her classes daily.
“It’s just that stupid old world history,” the young woman, who had once been voted by her classmates as being the closest thing to the bottom of the food chain, answered. “Who cares about the past? I want to live in the future,” Hillary emphatically claimed.
“Well, in the future, you’ll still be trying to get out of high school,” the handsome young man muttered.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Tom responded.
Hillary wasn’t pretending that she had not heard. Her denial system was so solid that she would automatically filter out anything she was confronted with that didn’t fit her picture of herself. As a matter of fact, Hillary maintained straight D’s despite hardly ever attending class and when she did go, she paid absolutely no attention to the lecture, but instead spent the fifty-five minutes popping blackheads on her forehead.
The young woman kept her below average grades by doing extra credit busy work for each class. There were two reasons her teachers allowed this; one being it was necessary to pass as many students as possible to maintain the school’s funding from the state and federal authorities.
The second and much more important reason was her teachers couldn’t bear to keep Hillary in their classes a second longer than was necessary. The very idea of holding her back for another year was completely abhorrent to them. Her nasal whine alone brought discomfort to the entire class as it resembled nothing less than the awful screeching of a piece of chalk across a blackboard and it set everyone’s back teeth on edge.
As soon as the final bell rang and the hallways became completely devoid of students, Tom asked, “Where to?”
“The boys bathroom.”
“Oh, how romantic,” the handsome young man murmured sardonically.
“Yes, I think so too,” Hillary replied brightly.
Taking Tom by the hand, Hillary led him quickly down the hallway and into the men’s room. She continued to almost drag him along down to the last stall and pushed him in. Hillary quickly entered herself and latched the door immediately behind her, almost as if she had done this sort of thing before – no duh!
The young woman knelt down on the filthy bathroom floor, where Tom couldn’t help but notice that small puddles of urine were present.
Ugh!
he thought to himself.
There is just no limit to this girl’s degradation.
Hillary pulled down the zipper on Tom’s pants and liberated his monstrous appearing eight-inch erection. It wasn’t that the young man was that aroused by Hillary’s actions, it was more due to the fact that he was eighteen years old and was almost always in a state of arousal.
In fact, the only time that Tom wasn’t sporting an erection was the several minutes following his experiencing an orgasm. To avoid undue embarrassment, he had taken to wearing baggy trousers several sizes too large to hide his constant boner. Tom would have been very chagrined to learn that he hadn’t fooled his friends at all with this maneuver, who referred to him as ‘the human erector set.’
And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, the young women in the high school were always groping Tom in the crowded hallways between classes for a quick feel of his Johnson. It was a wonder that the poor boy didn’t accidentally go off in his pants at any given time.
