Karen Williamson stood, tray in hand, looking for a place to sit. Her optionswere limited; the sitting areas were essentially run by the various schoolcliques, and Karen absolutely did not belong to any particular group. As amatter of fact, she was commonly the object of derision of many of thesegroups. It was not that she was particularly ugly, although she was a bit onthe heavy side and had something of an acne problem, or that she wasantisocial. Her isolation stemmed from a discussion in one of last year’sSocial Studies classes. In a "Current Events" module, the class had beendiscussing some recent controversies concerning homosexual rights. Karen hadbeen arguing in support of those rights and had, in the heat of the debate, letslip the fact that she herself was gay. Word had quickly spread, and beforelong she was virtually an outcast at Greenwood. She had quickly learned that ifone is going to come out of the closet, a high-school class is just not theplace to do it. Her life had been hell ever since.

Desperately lonely, Karen had hoped that things would have blown over by this,her senior, year, but that hadn’t proved to be the case. In fact, the abuse hadeven gotten worse. Just last week, she had found her locker plastered withpictures of naked women torn from a Penthouse magazine with the words "DykesAnonymous" scrawled all over them. As a result of these and similar events,Karen had largely withdrawn from school social life, and now spent much of hertime alone, often drinking (an activity which had helped neither her weight norher acne problem). In fact, she had been drinking the previous night, and wasnow suffering from rather a bad hangover; this probably explained her lapse injudgment in choosing and sitting down at a table near the back of the room.

Even before the table fell ominously silent, she knew that she had made amistake. A bad one. She looked up from her tray to see who she was sittingwith. Across from her sat Stacy Richards and Ashley Peters, easily the two mostpopular girls in school. The rest of the now-silent table was filled withstudents of an equally exalted social level.

"Well!" Ashley took the lead, as she always did in making fun of Karen. "Aren’twe lucky. A visit from the school dyke!" Karen flinched as Ashley’s cuttingvoice drew attention. The other students at the table were smiling andlaughing, knowing what was coming.

"What’s wrong? No other dykes to eat with… or eat?" Ashley’s voice wasgetting louder. Students at nearby tables were now looking over and joining inthe laughter. Her face burning, Karen stumbled to her feet and fled the table,leaving her tray of food behind.

"Come back anytime," Ashley called after her. "Feel free to bring yourgirlfriend." The entire section the cafeteria was laughing now, as Karen, nowin tears, burst through the exit and disappeared from view.

At a table near the door, Gary and Sharon watched her run out. Silently, theyexchanged glances and looked over at Ashley as she laughed with her friends.Stacy laughed right along with them.

Tim smirked across the room at Dennis; the class was almost over. The twothirteen year-old boys had barely been able to restrain themselves during thatafternoon’s Recreation Class. Due to the colder weather, the class was onceagain taking place inside the gymnasium, and they had spent the entire periodwatching Stacy as she supervised the other students. At this particular moment,she was demonstrating volleyball techniques to a group of girls in the corner.She was wearing baggy shorts which came down to her knees and a loosesweatshirt, but that did not deter the boys from imagining what was underneath.So far, she had managed to avoid them, but Tim had plans to deal with that.

Finally, the bell rang, signalling the end of class.

"OK, everybody," Stacy yelled, clapping her hands for attention. "Into thedressing rooms. That’s it for today." While the rest of the kids ran into thedressing rooms as directed, Tim and Dennis jogged over to where Stacy was bentover, putting away equipment. She straightened up as they approached.

"Yes?" She asked coldly. "What do you want?" She didn’t seem happy to see them.

Embarrassed, Dennis turned to go, but Tim caught his arm before he could getaway. "That’s not very friendly," he stated. "You were a lot nicer last week."He was smirking again.

"That was last week," Stacy told him angrily. "Don’t expect it to happenagain." She put her hands on her hips and glared at them. "I don’t expect tohear about it again from either of you. Is that understood?"

Dennis flushed red and began to mutter an apology, but was cut off by Tim.

"OK, you won’t hear about it from us, then," he told her. "You’ll be hearingabout it from Mr. Tilby, though."

The thirteen year-old grabbed his friend by the arm and turned to go.

"Wait!" Stacy, no longer confident, called after them. Mr. Tilby was theteacher in charge of the grade 12 supervisors. "What do you mean?" She had asick feeling that she already knew the answer.

Tim turned and faced her. "We’re going to tell Mr. Tilby what happened. I bethe’ll be interested."

Stacy felt her face flush with panic; Tilby would get her expelled for sure!

"Unless…" Tim’s voice was sly.

"Unless?" Stacy knew what was coming. Unconsciously, she crossed her wrists infront of her and began fiddling with her charm bracelet. There were now almosta dozen metal "F"s hanging from it.

"Unless you become a lot more friendly," Tim finished off his sentence. "Likelast week."

Stacy looked at the two of them - Tim looking cocky and sure of himself andDennis looking both frightened and hopeful - and shuddered. If she gave in, shewould become in effect the private whore of a couple of thirteen year-olds. Butwhat else could she do?

"If I agree," she said slowly, fighting back the tears, "you’ll keep quietabout it. No one else will know." Maybe she could minimize the damage.

Tim grinned in triumph; they had her!

"OK. It’ll be our little secret." A slow smile began to form on Dennis’sfreckled face.

"And just this once," she bargained. "After that, I don’t hear about it again?"

Tim began to nod, flushed with success and ready to agree to anything, but thistime it was Dennis who did the interrupting. "Once a week," he told her. "Afterclass on Fridays." Stacy’s mouth fell open and she shook her head.

"OK." Dennis shrugged and turned to Tim. "Let’s see Tilby."

He started walking, pulling an astonished Tim behind him. This time, the twoboys actually managed to get a few steps away before Stacy called them back.Trembling, she agreed to their demands; there was no way she could let them goto Tilby.

Ten minutes later, she was stretched out naked on a pile of stored gym mats,with Dennis pumping his thirteen year-old cock in and out of her pussy whileTim waited his turn. The two boys had wanted her naked this time, and she hadhad no choice but to slip out of the shorts and sweatshirt. She grunted in timewith Dennis’s thrusts and moaned as he mauled her tits, but did not fight orcry out as he spurted within her.

She did, however, start crying when Tim crawled on top of her to take his turnat sticking his cock into her now sopping pussy.

With the footlights shining bright and hot directly upwards into her face, themen in the audience - she instinctively knew that they were men - were visibleonly as vague outlines; dark shapes and shadows which seemed to shift and pulsein time with the thick bass throb of the cheap rock music. She could hear thequiet rumble of conversation from beyond the lights, but as the dance began,the shapes fell silent. They almost appeared to lean forward towards the stage,focusing intensely upon the actions of the dancer.