I was going through a lonely spell when I decided to attend a concert that fateful October night. I'd recently entered my first year at a state school with tens of thousands of kids, yet somehow I had nowhere to fit in. Interestingly, I found myself hanging out with the punk kids, not really because I liked the music, but more cause I loved the style. The leather, studs, and dark aesthetic held a unique, almost sexual, appeal for me.
My new crowd was a rough bunch who smoked and drank after classes. They were into the death metal scene and were going to a show that night by a band with some vile name like "Gore Fucker". Since I was a loner who desperately wanted friends, I came along and was especially excited to dress the part. That night, I wanted to look good.
Not fully comprehending the sort of concert it would be, I stupidly dressed like a punk rock slut. I wore fishnets and black boots with a tall, chunky heel to accentuate my thin legs. They were matched with a minuscule black and emerald school girl skirt, and a tiny crop top that said "Slayer"; I'd bought it that day at H&M. The outfit showed off my trim tummy, and in my naiveté, I didn't realize all this dolling up would ultimately be for the satisfaction of hungry men. With each stroke of my makeup brush -- the red lips, the fake lashes -- I was, in essence, marinating and smoking myself, then spreading out on a silver platter for the ferocious beasts that would later devour me.
"Sup, Daisy," Mia greeted coolly as I hopped in her boyfriend's convertible after she texted me to come outside.
There was just one bench so Mia moved to the middle and I sat by the door. She was dressed like me, like a skanky groupie, but she had something I didn't: a boyfriend. Little did I know, Mia would never have gone to a concert like this without her man to protect her. She'd never step foot in a place like that -- in the headbanging jungle -- alone, but she didn't warn me.
"Hey, babe, take a rip of this," Xander coughed as he handed me the joint he'd just lit.
He reached behind Mia to pass it, then left his hand on my shoulder and pulled us both into him. It was weird and I was really uncomfortable, but Xander always did creepy things like that. He was almost 30 and a biker, and I don't think he was the nicest guy, but Mia said he gave her free drugs and alcohol and brought her to parties, so she kept hanging out with him.
I was new to smoking weed and drinking but accepted the joint eagerly; who wants to be sober at a concert? Soon I was swaying happily in the car, Mia feeding me sips of vodka through a flask with some lemonade to chase. I was having a great time until Xander's finger slipped under my bra strap. He fiddled with it, pulling it up and slapping it down, tickling my neck, rubbing my ear. It was really unnerving, especially when I looked behind Mia's head he winked at me. I shivered but was too tipsy to ask him to stop.
"Come on, Dais, we're here."
Xander parked the car and had already gotten out to open the door for us. As I exited, he groped my ass cheek and nearly grazed the underside of my bare pussy. That's when I realized just how exposed I was in this outfit. My tiny G-string was the only thing protecting my girlhood from the outside world. My skirt could easily be flipped up, and the wide holes of the fishnets were hardly protection against an intruder.
I started shaking as we walked through the parking lot and tried pulling my skirt down to at least cover the bottoms of my cheeks. If I bent over even one inch, though, it would ride up and soon my black panties were on display, smothered by my chubby, pale lips.
Xander assured me, "the boys are gonna love you."
I know it sounds dumb to go to a concert dressed like this, but you have to understand I was really inexperienced at the point and had no idea the effect an outfit -- or even just my gender! -- could have. I would soon learn my lesson.
Before we had even walked 50 feet, a leather-clad hooligan behind us hooted, "damn, baby, let me get a piece of that puffy cunt! I can see it pokin' out from here!"
I shamefully pulled down my skirt over my ass as his friends laughed but I knew it wouldn't do me any good. When we got to security the hulking guard felt me up for almost a minute before finally letting me go.
He laughed dryly, "good luck in there."
It was already packed when we entered. I tried to stay close to Mia and Xander but it was really hard with so many people. On top of that, a lot of guys were pushing and shoving each other, but Mia assured me it was all part of the fun. Still, just about every other one of them terrified me. I saw groups of buff men in polos wearing high boots with white laces, heads shaved showing no emotion. I saw snarling bikers in black leather slamming beers and roaring, while other men in metal band T-shirts swung their manes like helicopters overhead.
I saw all of this, but what I didn't see was another girl. Nope, aside from Mia, who I already told you was taken, I didn't see one other woman in the whole warehouse. I gulped as I came to this conclusion, then found myself swatting away the first of many lecherous hands.
The music was bizarre and I couldn't understand why anyone would want to be here, but I was clearly the one odd one out. Everyone around me was rowdy, fiendishly whipping their long hair back and forth til I was dodging sweat droplets. I held onto Mia's arm for as long as I could but, as expected, Xander kept her occupied. They slowly drifted further away as the crowd filled in between us, and there was no way for me to find familiar faces through the vast sea of chests and torsos I was up against. Everyone was so much taller and bigger than me, hands were groping, pinching, shoving; I was put in a state of primal fear.
"You lost, little girl? You shouldn't be here," a dark voice spoke while putting a hand on my shoulder.
Before I could respond, a different hand was on my other replying, "she's not lost. She's right where she should be, with me."
"Don't think so, man. She's gonna be with me!"
"No, me!"
They jostled me between each other like lions with a fresh kill when suddenly one of them punched the other in the jaw. The one who got hit looked up and, if you can believe it, smiled. He punched the other guy back and that madman smiled, too! Soon they were in a festive brawl that spread, other men cheering them on. It was warfare and my 115 lbs were not going to last long. I shuffled out as quickly as I could but it was difficult in my heeled boots.
My senses were on high alert as I ducked through the crowd. I tried to stay small and hidden but sometimes, through the frenzy, a man would latch onto my fishnets and graze the smooth thigh that lay underneath. The predator would need just one brush against my feminine flesh before his pupils dilated and nostrils flared, baring his teeth as he looked down at his prey. If I had the misfortune of looking back up at these beasts, they invariably trapped me by my wrist. I was constantly swiping greedy paws off my arms, chest and skirt, trying my best to save some honor in this violent orgy.
Mia was still nowhere to be found, and my situation was becoming more dire. The men were turning lustful, and aside from the cacophonous nightmare that was blaring from the stage, my ears were flooded with a deluge of:
"Hey, bitch!"
"Lemme bend that ass over!"
"Gimme that pussy, girl!"
"Show us your tits, slut!"
"Come here girl, I'll give you what you need!"
