"It's my number. I think you're amazing. Please give me a call sometime."
The young man with the thick glasses pushed his spectacles up from the bridge of his nose. "If you want to, of course."
Iris stared at the young man. She had never seen him before. She studied his clothing. A simple white button up shirt, khaki slacks. No Greek letters. "Is this a joke?" She demanded. "Did somebody put you up to this?"
The boy gaped at Iris. "No," he stammered. "I just... I think you're really pretty. I've seen you around and I've been working up the nerve to talk to you. I'm sorry if you have a boyfriend or something." He turned bright red, began to sweat profusely, and hustled away. He didn't look back.
Iris stared at the slip of paper in her hand. There was a number scrawled across it with the boy's name:
Max.
Not knowing what else to do, Iris slid the piece of paper into her backpack and walked away.
Iris bought herself a coffee in the student union and sat down. She took her laptop from her backpack, and opened it. She clicked on the e-mail icon, checking to see if she had a new message. For the second week in a row, there was nothing.
The emotion Iris found herself overcome with wasn't relief, but rather a profound sense of confusion. So this boy, this Max, had actually just walked up and given her his number. Iris. Iris with the fat ass.
The last boys who had given Iris any romantic attention had been five of the brother's of Tri-Pi. They had publicly humiliated her, blackmailed her, and fucked her senseless. Afterwards, the whole experience of going about her day to day life was strange and surreal. And then, the most surreal thing had happened.
Iris started to miss the attention.
Iris had always thought of her huge ass as grotesque, something to be hidden. But she couldn't lie to herself; there had been something about having her big backside wanted and lusted after that gave her a deep sense of satisfaction.
Some nights she found herself pulling up the e-mail that had started the whole mess with the Pi Pi Pi boys. Iris would scroll through the pictures of her pale, round ass that the boys had taken that afternoon in broad daylight, when they had ripped her pants down. The whole experience had been against her will, and yet, each time Iris would revisit the event, she couldn't help but finger herself to a blissful climax.
Every time she finished masturbating Iris felt deeply ashamed. And yet, she found herself becoming more daring. Iris started to dress more provocatively. Gone were the oversized sweatshirts designed to cover her massive rear end. She traded in her leggings and started to wear skirts and shorts. She bought more underwear than simple thongs and granny panties; frilly lace numbers, with barely enough material to cover her bulging ass cheeks. But in the few weeks since it had all happened, the only boy who had approached her was this stranger Max.
Iris finished her coffee, slammed her laptop closed, and rose from the table. Even Jack, the mastermind of her violation, had been ignoring her in class. She had never even caught him glancing in her direction. Lost in thought, Iris stood up too quickly and knocked her chair over with her huge ass. The sound echoed throughout the student union. Iris could see a few people in neighboring booths pointing and snickering. Mortified, she hung her head and charged away.
"Don't worry about them, sweet cheeks. You know you've got everything I want."
Iris' heart started to pound in her chest. She felt a hand on the small of her back, a broad shouldered young man sidling up beside her. She knew who it was before she even looked at his face; not that she was even sure she had the courage to do so.
"What do you want, Jack?"
"Well, I did just want to talk. But with that attitude, I think you need to be taught a lesson."
Iris gulped as Jack latched onto her arm and drug her into a men's room with an
Out of Order
sign hanging on the door. The lights popped on automatically, and Iris found herself face to face with the man she had been both dreading, and anxiously anticipating, seeing for two full weeks.
Iris crossed her arms and tried to stare at Jack defiantly. Much to her dismay, his gaze was so piercing that she found herself looking away. Iris found herself looking straight into a mirror, where she cursed herself for dressing in a too-tight flannel button up, and a pair of cutoff jean shorts, the set of which did nothing to hide her moderately sized breasts, or the more than generous swell of her backside.
"Did you set all of that up?" Iris demanded shakily.
Jack's reflection took a break from looking Iris' own reflection up and down and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Iris, I made your fat ass knock over that chair. I'm magic like that."
"I meant before that."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jack said, and he sounded earnest. Fearing what Jack might do if he knew she had a new male admirer, Iris slid her backpack under the sink, away from his piercing stare.
"Okay, then. What do you want? I haven't heard from you in weeks."
"Don't worry, Iris. We haven't forgotten about you and your sweet little, or should I say, gigantic, ass," without warning Jack delivered a harsh smack to Iris' backside which stung even through the denim material of her jean shorts. "The boys and I have just been really busy setting up the rush process for this semester. Recruitment kicks off this week with flag football. That's where you come in. You're going to be our secret weapon."
"I suck at football," Iris said, as she rubbed her stinging backside.
Jack rolled his eyes again. "I think all of your brains must have gone to your ass. As much fun as it would be to put you under center and have you hike the ball to me every down, it's hard to play football with a boner. You're going to be our cheerleader. It's your job to distract the other team, and attract potential recruits. Go out there, shake your pom-poms, and wiggle that big butt around. No harm, no foul."
"But what if people recognize me?"
"Okay I'm not trying to be a dick, but one, nobody knows who you are. Two, nobody is going to be looking at your face. And as long as you play along we're going to let you wear a mask. And last but not least, I don't fucking care. You don't really get a choice. Unless you want a video of you spreading your ass cheeks to end up on the university's Facebook page."
Iris' mind reeled. She knew she couldn't let the videos of her last encounter with Jack and his friends get out or her life would be over. But the thought of shaking and gyrating her ridiculous curves, willingly, in public, was terrifying. Especially while cheering for a group of boys who had spent an entire night using her as their personal sex toy.
