Dull clouds blotted the sun from view. Meagre streams of light broke past the blanket of grey, casting sparse rays upon the world below, leaving it a cold mess. Zoey stood at her window, dressed in a simple grey t-shirt and skirt, with her hands clasped tight on her arms. The day appeared miserable. Even the energy of her neighbour's children was subdued as they marched toward the bus stop, stripped of their childish glee by the week. Yet her own heart fluttered and her legs shook in nervous energy.
She caught sight of her own reflection in the windowpane. No more fear. That beast would stay locked up, chained to the darkest corners of her mind, starved and meek. Whatever came at her today, she would face it. Not shirk the confrontation, but meet it. Easier said than done. A phrase which irked her the more she thought it.
Why couldn't it be done easily? Any consequence that might befall her today couldn't be permanent, even Gretchen wasn't immune to the law. She was close. A flash of tit and ass and she had most cops under her skirt, trapped between her meaty thighs and doused in her pheromones. Zoey dug her nails into her skin at the glimmer of desire in her crotch. The terse string around her cock flexed.
"Later," Zoey promised. If all went as planned, she couldn't afford to be tardy anymore. She would float back into the flow of mundanity, away from Gretchen's demands and hate, a feeling she reciprocated. A flash of last night snapped her into motion. She ignored the low throb in her dick and grabbed her school bag, for the first time in years.
Megan was downstairs, dressed provocatively. Don't look, don't look. Giving anything beyond a glance to the deadbeat encouraged her, despite that, she teased Zoey with glee. But she was left without a response as Zoey left, eyes fixed on anything but her older sister. The door muffled Megan's demands for attention. Once outside, the younger sibling leaned into the door and heaved a sigh of relief. A smile graced her face, bright against the dreary atmosphere.
Warmth sparked to life and clashed with the weather. Her sigh turned to a gentle moan at the heat. It spread across her form, comforted and encouraged her. She could do this. Today would be different, the beast she envisioned as her fear would be concealed, no matter how it clawed at the surface. A chair scraped against the floor, likely Megan getting up to pursue her. Zoey hurried down the street, out of sight when the door opened.
The school loomed overhead. Fences surrounded it on all sides with a single break at its front, framed by two brick towers, cracked and moss covered. They each stood just shy of seven feet tall. Zoey glanced to their peaks, obscured from her diminutive view. She'd thought, in her freshman year, that she might grow tall enough to peer over them. It didn't happen, though she could jump high enough. The idea was a fantasy now.
Zoey lowered her chin and headed for the track field. The forecast was for rain, so she wanted to get a run in while she could. The area was vacant, as she expected. Her bag dropped against a wall as she went about stretching. Five-foot or six-foot, it didn't matter. She's a runner, her legs would carry her further than most others, away from worry. No, not away. She didn't want to be away. Run to it, regardless of what worried her.
"Visualise it," Zoey said and exhaled slowly. She stepped onto the track field, between the faded lines, and fell into position. Before her, she pictured a shadowed figure, featureless and imprinted her greater fret upon it. Platinum locks formed, styled and extravagant, its shape curved out at the hips and chest. The skin turned from black to a light gold and it turned, wearing Gretchen's face.
"Beat her," Zoey commanded herself. The shadow adopted its own pose, sloppy in technique. She counted down in her head. 3... 2... 1... Go! Zoey launched herself forward. Her legs were tiny, no taller than Rachel's, but her power remained. Yet the shadow sprinted ahead of her. It leapt with its longer strides, catapulting itself further and further ahead.
Why? Zoey pushed herself harder. Salty rivulets streaked down her forehead. Her muscles extended and retracted, her feet pounded into the dirt, kicking it up behind her, and her arms pumped at her sides. If she were taller, she would be moving at full speed. The scenery blurred and faded around her.
Only the shadow and ground remained. The former turned its vicious head and winked at her, its face rippled and took on a new visage, that of a fellow runner, someone she'd lost to over and over. Her imagined adversary stepped up the pace, all while its hips swayed, as tempting as it was mocking. It's hopeless. Zoey stumbled to a stop. The world jerked back into focus and the shadow vanished with a mocking wave, once again wearing Gretchen's face.
"Why?" Zoey repeated aloud and sank to the earth. Her balls brushed against the back of her skirt, so heavy and huge she couldn't fit them into her boxers. Even in her imagination, she couldn't do anything against Gretchen, let alone someone else. She slouched forward to rest her palms against the grass, legs spread and shoulders slumped in exhaustion. A glimpse of her cock greeted her.
She needed a booster of some sort. Something, anything, to distract from the despicable performance. Only one fantasy put her above Gretchen, one that would be locked in her mind for all eternity. That's fine. She didn't want it to be real, not yet. Zoey raised her skirt and took a peek at her member. It throbbed in greeting, aware of the desire for relief surging in her veins.
"Slacking off?"
Zoey snapped her hands down and looked around. A girl, Holly, approached her, jovial grin on her face. She was part of the track team, an underperformer despite her long, powerful legs, befitting her six-foot stature. Shameful. It befuddled Zoey how someone could ignore such a great asset, why they would choose to laze about and monologue about boys or their makeup. She turned away.
"Well, whatever," Holly shrugged and stepped onto the track field herself. She stretched, catching Zoey's eye as she bent down and forward, pressing her honed rear flush against her skirt. The girl's breasts were small, but pert beneath her top, enough for someone of Zoey's stature to get a delightful handful, "Ready for the race on Wednesday?"
"Oh shit," Zoey groaned and stood, "I forgot."
"Well, not like a shrimp like you'll win or anything," Holly giggled.
"I..." Zoey clenched her jaw, then breathed deep, "I'm not a shrimp."
"Sure," Holly said and leered down at her. She reached out to pet Zoey's head.
"Stop it!" Zoey snapped and pushed the hand away. A flicker of heat warmed her belly.
"Finally got a backbone? Funny, didn't think shrimp had any," Holly persisted.
"I'm not a damn shrimp," Zoey said. The warmth brightened and spread across her form. Did it always feel this good to stand up to someone? Her hands relaxed and flexed. A dull ache accompanied the heat.
"Looks like it to me," Holly stood down to put her face level with Zoey's.
"Well, I'm not!"
"Prove it," Holly sneered, "What about a race?"
Zoey stiffened. All manner of responses sifted through her mind, as did the image of the shadow she'd created. She pushed all others aside and latched onto the one she most wanted, "Sure. I can't wait to see your face when you lose to a short girl."
"Please," Holly rolled her ears and settled into position. Her grin turned to a confident, yet giddy expression, "One lap. Try not to choke on my dust."
"I hope you choke on mine," Zoey answered, again finding and clutching the response she desired. It spurned on the ember in her body.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side this morning."
Zoey ignored her. In a few minutes, her actions would speak infinitely more refined than any sentence she could form. This wasn't some shadow in her imagination, but a girl. One she had beaten time and again, always without trying. Even minus a foot of height, and weary from her previous run, she was certain of her victory.
"And... go!" Holly's feet kicked off like a springboard. She took an early lead, darting ahead. Zoey huffed and pressed herself harder. The clap of shoe on dirt, the crunch of gravel and her laboured breaths, all merged into her thoughts. As always everything vanished, even Holly, leaving her in her thoughts. A place she both coveted and avoided.
