Class 12-A

Two days earlier...

"PAYTON PLEASE!" The girl's eyes darted across the hallway space, her form still curled up on the floor. "Please tell me you see it..."

Cory closed his eyes, then opened them. "I see it." A bright glow basked each pupil. "I see so much."

They were suddenly engulfed in white. Tara no longer felt the chill, the hardness below her legs. When she opened her eyes, she was floating in mid-air -- she was no longer in the hallway.

"There I am."

Cory suddenly appeared beside her, giving her a start. Tara looked to where he was looking, taking in their surroundings for the first time. They were in a wide room, with curved walls. Couches were paired opposingly at the center, and by a beautifully erected set of long windows was a wide, shining desk.

In front of that desk was Cory, shaking hands with a regal looking man -- one who carried himself as such, and eyes that bespoke it.

"The President of the United States of America." Clicking his tongue, Cory semi-glided forward, his body phasing through object and person alike, other Cory included. "Never thought I'd see the day..."

Another flash of white.

When the light died from Tara's eyes, she found herself outside.

A group of girls in two-piece swimsuits were lined up on the front lawn of a two-story house, yelling and screaming excitedly. Tara noticed she couldn't hear any of their sounds; in fact, they all moved like time had been slowed to a crawl. Some of their breasts jiggled as two to three of the girls threw up signs over their head with Cory's name scrawled across it, along with some flattering renditions of his ever spherical face.

"The scope... it was unreal." Cory's voice, again, tremored beside her. When Tara swiveled her head to look, he was sitting in the backseat on the opposite side, leaning his head forward to get a glimpse of the view on her side of the car. It was also just then that Tara realized she had been sitting inside a moving vehicle in the first place.

Before she could do, think, say anything, the car was immersed in a shower of water, which was subsequently consumed in another blinding cloud. When her eyes adjusted, another line of females were before her -- but this time, they were dressed in fiendishly scanty, transparent attire. Dazzling jewelry draped their necks, their lithe bodies were shiny from the most impeccable topical; over their mouths and noses were partially sheer cloths. The entire get-up was like something taken out of an Egyptian-themed costume party.

"Cory, I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, Bets."

"And I am proud of that huge hard cock!"

"Thanks, Aunt Mimi."

Two women, also dressed in barely anything but sheer squares that passed as clothing, were leaning forward above a seated Cory, pressing their bodies up against him as they kissed his cheek and rubbed his naked torso.

Other ladies surrounded him, all of them conversing amongst themselves. All of them... happy.

A ripple vibrated through what could only be described as the fabric of space, and suddenly, the scene changed. Now, they were outside, where a large sprawl of deserty plains and grassy hills alike could be gleaned from their towering haunt. Despite the distance, Tara was able to discern the people all roaming and trucking away below -- the majority of them woman in half-naked forms, their breasts and pussies covered only by a shelling strung together by glossy string, which, in the asses' case, rode up their cracks like there was no tomorrow, showcasing all of their meaty globes in the open. They were dancing, firing up grills -- typical outdoor recreation. Until, that is, you looked closer, and took note of the group of women tugging on a large rope attached to a pulley system, which seemed to be raising a giant stone statue: one carved in the image of no other than Cory Payton himself. Then slid your gaze to the side, where a circle of girls were jilling off while seated around a campfire, hands shifting their minimal vagina coverings to the side in order to attack their snatch. There were some men, but they were much less animated; most of them were on their knees, being used as cup holders, surfaces, even sitting stools.

Across the panoramic landscape, there were near a million of visual instances such as these; skimpily garbed men and women, the latter group either slaving away at lavish formations that glorified Tara's classmate or lounging in the interim, or just going about day-to-day life as usual.

"Then, there's you," Cory's body swallowed her entire, and immediate line of sight; for a moment, it was as if she was subsumed into his immaterial form, before the haze gave way to a dim, serenely lit chamber. Beneath the dancing flames stood Cory, and...

Her.

Happy. Smiling. Just like the rest of them.

She walked up to Cory, her body also adorned in non-clothing that only served to accentuate her curves and Hispanic body with indulgent allowances of skin, and sucked herself into his embrace. He wrapped his hands around her back, and the two held the hug for what seemed like seasons.

Then the real--the... current, present Cory broke the spell. "Tara, what you're seeing is the end of this story. I was curious, so decided to ask the simple question of, 'What happens next?' To just erase the uncertainty. And this -- this is what happens, Tara. After that gigantic rollercoaster ride, you're there, in the end. As my head mistress. As queen concubine. And we rule it. We rule it, together."

Tara's eyes were cast in the shade of the room's poor lighting.

"Tara?"

Suddenly, the girl's shoulders began to shake. Then, a pitch-revolving laugh boomed through the silence, bouncing off the reverberating walls.

"THIS?" The girl, cropped black hair flipping as she swung her neck to face Cory, pointed at the scene playing out in front of them. "THIS IS ALL A DREAM! None of THIS is REAL!"

Cory returned Tara's gaze with an unchanged expression. The girl continued on.

"I have NO idea why I'm having these, these ridiculous thoughts in my head, but when I wake up I'll GLADLY forget all of them!

"I'm Tara Mendes and I, I am a NORMAL person with a NORMAL life!

"And YOU -- YOU are just a kid from the ghetto with torn up shoelaces who falls asleep in Algebra: CORY PAYTON!"

"No, Tara," Cory stretched out an arm, and grabbed her wrist. "This isn't a dream."

Suddenly, space shifted and warped around them until narrowing to a small room. Tara's eyes darted side to side, brows wrinkling. "Wait--what--this is..."

"In fact, so much of it was probably too real for your memory to even register it all. I basically fast-forwarded through my life's projected future and every second of the experience in a span of 10 minutes. Your mind only retained a minute few of those moments, I'd guess."

The sound of a little child sobbing quietly peppered the room, and Tara turned around to see herself, an eight-year-old kid, sitting against the wall, knees raised to her chin, as her dad sat by, comforting her.

"This is you crying after your older brother passed away, right?"

Tara's eyes didn't move to glance at Cory, or, for that matter, anything else. "How do you know that?"

As her past-dad offered softspoken words of reassurance, her kid-self sunk into his side, slowly falling into an inconspicuous sleep.

"How do you know that? No one in school knows that except Callie and Felicia!" Tara turned with an abrupt conviction to face Cory, who was looking on with an inquisitive curl.

"Tara, I think, in the end, you are there because you chose to be. I think that there is a reason why that is. And I would like to offer you the chance to take part in this with me." One hand was lifted, formed into a partways handshake. It took a second for Tara to realized that he was talking about that... crass dystopia.

"Are you insane? Why would I--" She stopped, muttering to herself. "What am I even doing? You're not real. None of this is real. I'm going to wake up and forget that any of this even happened inside my mind. Thankfully."

"You've been driven ever since you were a kid, Tara," Cory described. "Driven to be number one. But you could never get there. Now in high school, Callie is the queen bee. You always lived in her shadow. And really, she is the one who was cruelest to me. She was the one who got you to laugh at me, like today, when I fell asleep in class and woke up just after being made Owner of the World, and then made Callie into a whore, and the rest of the campus into party animals who'd gladly turn up to watch her strip and show off."

Cory waved a hand.

"But now, you could be number one. You could be queen of women... throughout all the world. You could come with me there -- as yourself."

"What? That doesn't make sense! I would be living in YOUR shadow," Tara backed away, her emotional control slipping, "I don't even know why I'm bothering talking to you! Or listening to anything you have to say! Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Cory took another step forward as she moved one foot aaway. "You have to choose, Tara. Come with me, or be just like the rest of them."

Panic began to settle into Tara's bones. This was a dream, this was a dream, this was all just one crazy, batshit, totally inane dream, and she should probably stop taking psychidelics for the foreseeable future.

What was happening?

What was happening?

It was all fake, right?

She'll just wake up and go back to her normal, average-jane life in her fancy little private school world?

This...

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

...there was no way...

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

...but what if... what if this really was...

"Tara!"

"JUST STOP!" Suddenly, the girl flailed her arms in front of her, then back, pressing her hands against her disheveled head of hair. "JUST TAKE ME BACK! Take me back to Algebra! To Class-12 fucking A!

"TO REALITY!"

"PAYTON, PLEASE..."

Blinking, eyes adjusting, Tara looked down, wondering why she was on the floor of the hallway, outside of her classroom.

Then a familiar shadow was cast over her. Cory stood, looking down, an inscrutable look in his eyes, which almost seemed to sparkle for a brief glimmer of a second. Must have been a trick of the ceiling lights.

A smile tugged at Tara's lips as she got to her feet, knees still shaky.

"...forgive me... for not presenting my ass to you like the hot girl I am properly should!"

Spinning on her heels, Tara returned to the floor again as she prostrated herself in a ridiculous manner, thrusting out her jeasn-covered bottom in a way that made them seem like round balls tucked inside a pair of Levi's.

She then started touching herself through her pants. "I don't know why I had never done this... I don't know why I never THOUGHT to do it... it must have slipped my mind. Please, Cory, forgive me for my rudeness. Forgive my ass for being so evasive and shit. Ugh. Ugh. Fuck, I'm so wet!"

"I forgive you Tara."

A minute later, Cory and Tara returned to the classroom. They were immediately swathed in quaking bass and unintelligible bars of rap breaking through the air -- inside, a massive crowd of kids and teachers alike bobbed, bumped, and grinded to the music. Seizure-inducing lights flashed a mile a minute.

Mrs. Griev was pulling down her skirt and twerking her pale ass with expert shakes of the hip.

Mr. Jackson was getting his dick sucked off by Helena Powell, the second-smartest girl in her grade.

Two jocks were stripping on top of a desk and swinging their hips to the music while showing off their meaty, V-tapered bods to the hooting ladies below.

Tara grinned, and clambered up the front desk, where Callie wiggled and danced atop naked, save for her pink, dangerously small panties that she never knew her friend owned, and several members of the audience, nearly all of whom she recognized, took turns slapping the main star's ass cheeks or shooting sticky glow-up pasties onto her breasts. Anyone who got a perfect shot onto her aerolae got fifty points' worth of extra credit. Callie was nevertheless provided exceptional company with her righthand partner in crime as Tara wriggled out of her tee, showing off her lovably tight stomach and pert breasts. She moved her hips left and right and left again, shaking the rear through her jeans to the point of inducing small blips on the Reichter scale. This case of 'double trouble' made the room go wild, as the spectators began chants of lascivious variety, such as spurring the two to make out, fuck, twerk harder, take it all off, and so on and so forth.

The intercoms scattered throughout the school suddenly made headway with a muted surge of feedback subsiding into the background as quickly as it had come. A clearing throat soon followed.

"Hi all, this is the announcement team with a new mandatory instruction to all students and faculty currently on-site: please proceed to Class 12-A in the northwest wing of campus. Please proceed to Class 12-A. Lean High's sluttiest, most fuckable whore, Callie Onis, is currently being a cheap fap-bank. Please proceed to Class 12-A where you are highly encouraged to slap her ass and fuck her floppy tits. Please and thank you. Also don't forget, tomorrow is Save the Earth Day. All of those who participate in the drive will receive two extra units. Donate today--save the earth!"