Claude Damme, bully with a heart of.... [Both Rings]

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Sure I could."

"No you can't."

"Don't test me, prissy princess."

"Leave her alone, Claude!"

Wide and looming, the teenager did what all exorbitant punks with attitude were born to do: snort, and raise one brow. "Why should I? She always likes to snoop her nose in my business."

Emma stared him down. "He spent a day trying to put that collage together, Claude. What do you ever spend your time on other than pushing people around?"

"He'll be alright! He builds fucking soda rockets! What does he care? He could get an A with his eyes closed. Me? I'm the real victim here." Moving over to Emma, Claude's bulky figure quickly swallowed hers. "I'm the one getting fucked over! Not you nerds. Me!"

"Emma." The small but firm interruption compelled Claude and Emma alike to turn to its pretty faced, tight-bodied source, looking, as it currently were, intently at the black marked floor. "It's okay. Let's go."

As the two girls took their stuff and left, Claude called after them, words reverberating against the walls. "I hope you and Ben have fun, Esther! Lots and lots of fun! Maybe you two can even do something more than hold hands! What do you say, Esther? If you love him so much, why don't you stop teasin' and get to the main course already!"

Emma's dirty blonde head spun back. "Shut up, Claude! It doesn't matter what you say, you're just a dumb. entitled asshole!"

"What? Now that I'm giving Ben a hand, I'm an asshole? Make up your mind!"

They said no more, their squeaking footsteps his only sign of conscious company. Claude grinned as the doors at the end of the hallway were pushed open, they walked out, and light flooded the entrance.

These fuckers...

These preppy assholes, teachers' pets....

All of them...

They all had it comin'...

All of them!

---

When the bell rang, Mr. Lichmann ordered the class to settle down. Backpacks dropped on floors, punches were slugged onto long sleeved arms. The chill of early winter encroached.

"Everyone. Everyone, please... pass your homework from yesterday up to the front. Don't forget to put down your name and date." A finger went up to slide his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And no last-minute copying."

A few pencils stopped mid-scrawl as a gaggle of students began pulling their adjacent classmates' homework sheets out of their grasp. Annoyed demands to stop, hush-hush scuffles and questions about who got what on number 4; these were all ensuing when the door opened, and, in characteristically tardy fashion, Claude Atticus Damme stepped in.

Hands in the pocket holes of his washed out blue jeans, hair unscrupulously slicked sideways with potentially boot-legged gel. A backpack over his shoulders that looked light enough to spread wings and fly off his back that very moment--

"Claude." Looking up from his spectacles, Mr. Lichmann held out an empty hand. The room quieted. "Tardy pass?"

Claude stopped, and turned. "Don't got one."

"Then go to the front office and get yourself a pass you can give me."

"I don't need a fucking pass."

Originally, the room had been stifled, but now, it stirred. Mr. Lichmann straightened. "Quiet, everyone, quiet. And cut the vulgarities, Damme. Or else you're getting a referral."

"Another one? Teach," Claude lifted his shoulders, "at this point... y'all might just have to suspend me!"

The balding man popped a brow. "Is that what you want? To get suspended?"

"I don't know." Walking to his seat, Claude let down his backpack, which landed with barely a plop. Then, he raised his head once more. "I do know that there's something I'd like to know."

"What's that?" Mr. Lichmann humored him.

"Can I fucking curse in this class?"

"Yes, you may."

"It's okay if I don't get a tardy pass. Right?"

"You're fine, Claude. We all know you're never on time, anyway."

This elicited a giggle out of some students.

As the teacher proceeded to take his seat at his desk, Claude stared long and hard at him.

"Teacher!"

Mr. Lichmann lifted his head.

"Can I touch Mel's breasts?"

The teacher sighed. "Claude... please, don't be too handsy with her. You have already been penalized for previous harassment violations." He nodded at Mel, the short haired brunette sitting complacently to the front of Claude, as she was normally assigned. "Mel?"

She shook her head. "If he wants, I guess. I don't care."

A toothy smile breaking across his face, Claude leaned forward and clasped one of Mel's nicely sized 'Mel'-ons in each hand, gauging their weightiness with a lift, pushing them up, then release. Up, then release. Mel, meanwhile, continued browsing some random article on her phone. Not a single person batted an eyelash, even as Mel Oren's breasts were being molested by Claude Damme in the back of the room.

Like Mel, not a single person cared.

Claude pinched a nipple, twisting it lightly. Mel instantly stiffened, back erect, and turned. "Watch it!"

"What's wrong?" He shook her two jugs in his hands for emphasis. "I could touch your cha-cha's, right?"

They felt so good in his hands. Nice and weighty. Their shape perfectly melded into his palms, like drooping balls, and she was doing nothing -- at least, not nearly as much as you'd normally assume a sexually assaulted girl in public would do -- to stop it.

"You're doing it right now, obviously!" she snapped. "Just settle down with that nipple shit!"

"Oh, come off." A wicked smile slithered under his nose, one that his peers had seen before. "You girls actually like it a lot when I play rough, especially when I'm feeling you up, don't you? Isn't it like one of a girl's regular sexual fantasies to get their parts squeezed and pulled and smacked by me?"

Squeeze, squeeze.

As Claude spoke, said hands shifted to running their-selves over the front of Mel's breasts, moving in circles against her annoyingly clothed aerolae. It weren't hard to spot, if you merely glanced that way, but glaring off of one of his fingers also appeared to be a gold band.

Mel started to open her mouth, her eyelids dropping halfway down as she suddenly seemed distant; internal. Her stiffness instantly subsided. In fact, she side swiped some stray fringe across her forehead, and placed one arm on the top of her chair, as if to casually convert her weight against it. In doing so, this also caused her to leaned forward towards Claude, pushing her chest further into her rough classmate's hands and conveniently allowing him easier access. However, before she could come up with anything to say, Claude beat her to it.

"Let me guess -- you all just don't want to admit it, do you? You want to keep it discreet... even if you can't really resist how badly you want it, or ever feel like stopping me when I do go to town?"

Mel glared at Claude again, but didn't move from her position, in which Claude was perfectly suited to grope the boobs straight in front of him -- like altar offerings, as they were. "Screw you, Claude! You don't know a thing about how to treat a woman. Jennifer is still waiting for an apology."

Claude scowled and detached his hands from Mel's big Mel-ons. For a moment, a disappointed look crossed the girl's face, but was quickly supplanted by an upturned chin as she adjusted her frumpled shirt and faced forward once more, casting Claude one last glare before turning her head firmly away.

Had to bring up Jennifer, didn't she? Had to open up old wounds. Whatever. His ex could go around telling whatever lies she wanted to whatever girls she saw fit, Mel included. Because that's what she was, a liar.

Today, the truth was on his side.