Heather the Cheerleader, Age 18 (SR 97)

Life was good. Heather came from a pair of SR99s, rich beyond belief. The private school she attended didn’t even change from U18 to O18. Most low-SRs were immediately expelled leaving only the prosperous still there. The only times SR even came up was when a SR95 nerd made an SR90 jock carry his books. One thing that came from the new laws was the reversal of social structures. Since the implementation of SR was done through teachers, something she learned only a few weeks ago, nerds always scored higher than jocks.

Heather was an exception. She was a cheerleader, and looked like the staple of a dumb blonde. Despite this she worked her ass off in classes, her parents drilled it into her. Whenever she found herself dropping grades, she used her ass for something else as well. The men couldn’t resist her but the women were harder. They accounted for the only three losses she had on her record, giving her an SR97. Not presidential, though more than enough to find a stable job and marry a lawyer.

Of course, she knew the other uses of a high SR as well. She never encountered it around her school though. It was generally accepted there were ten tiers, each ten numbers across. Under-tens were the lowest of the low, murderers, rapists and other undesirables. Of course, those crimes only mattered if you committed them against a higher SR, which meant it rarely, if ever, happened anymore.

At the same time there were the nineties, social elite. There was a silent law, don’t fuck with someone in your tier. Of course there was some infighting, nerds and jocks still had their rivalries, but the real humiliation was saved for the others. Pulling rank on someone close to you always seemed to come back around in the end.

Heather wanted more. In her gated community she never saw anybody too low. Even the street cleaners were in the SR80s. Her boyfriend Brad was always a temporary thing, though he often forgot that. They were prom king and queen material, not life material. He was a bad fuck anyway, rough and clumsy. Plus it was hard to really top the jock supreme. Propositioning nerds never went anywhere, they were all too willing.

She needed to find someone with a low SR. Someone who would resist. A real pet. She slid a hand in her panties just thinking about it. Control. That’s what she wanted. That night she snuck out, leaving a sticky note on her pillow so he parents wouldn’t worry. She intended to be back before sunrise but she knew herself well enough that she might get carried away.

The gate to Oakfield Acres was well enough patrolled, but she’d known ways out since she was young. The gap in the fence she used to use was way tighter than she remembered though. Certain parts of her had really grown since she was a kid. She managed to squeeze through with some effort and pop out on the other side. There she waited for a luxury bus, the kind you didn’t have to pay for if you had a high enough SR.

She wore her school uniform out. She didn’t much stand out in the rich neighborhood but the further she got the more eyes she’d get. Perfect. The bus took a while but eventually arrived in the city. She immediately grew wet seeing the debauchery on each corner. SR70s were fucking SR50s. SR60s were streaking naked through the street. One by one people noticed her.

As soon as she stepped off the bus a hand grabbed her ass. She spun and slapped the groper. “What the fuck, slut!?” He shouted, recoiling.

The man was an SR85. Probably so used to picking up women that he didn’t even check. “Punch yourself in the dick.”

“The fuck? No.” He grit his teeth. Even the fucking couples had turned to see the commotion. “How about you strip.” He finally glanced at her wrist. “Oh shit, wait, mam I’m sorry!”

She pressed a button on her wristwatch. “Chris Jeffery SR85, subtract 10.” He wailed. “Now, punch yourself in the dick.”

Heather turned, only hearing the soft thud and him collapsing. A few others, probably wronged by him in the past started to appear, ready for . She left him to it, turning off down an alley. That was good but not what she was looking for. She examined the faces of the people nearby. She was clearly the highest rated around.

She eventually found a target. A surprisingly good looking man, young too, with a rating of three. Nobody actually knew what happened when someone reached zero, they just disappear. She was sure he wouldn’t want to find out. Following the map she found him camped in a small shelter. There was a bowl in front of his cot, with nothing in it.

“Hey, SR03, wake up.” She kicked him. He stirred but didn’t wake up. Right as she was about to kick again, she had a better idea. She slid her panties down her legs and popped them in a pocket. Her cunt was already slick with arousal. She positioned herself over him and began to massage. It was so hot it didn’t take long for her to cum on his face.

Heather climbed off and gave him another kick. “What the fuck? Who are you?”

“Quiet. You’re mine now.” She explained. “Disobey me and I’ll remove the last of your points there. Now get naked.”

He yawned, scratching his stubble. “I’m alright, it’s pretty cold out tonight.”

“D-Dumbass.” She cursed. “Look, I’m an SR97. Understood?”

“I understand fine, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What’s on my face?” He asking rubbing it with his sleeve.

“Obey me! This is your last warning.” A beat passed. Then another. “F-Fine. Fred Terra SR03, subtract three.” She gave him a smirk. Nothing happened.

He just stretched, tapping his watch. “Heather Chandler SR97, subtract thirty.” Heather furrowed her brow. Suddenly the number on her watch dropped. She nearly fainted. “Sorry girl. You made a mistake. It’s not SR03, it’s SR103.”

“What? No, that’s not possible.”

“You start with a hundred, sure, but you can go higher too.” He pointed to the bowl. “Social Rank isn’t permanent. If you can drop, you can rise too. What better way to show your social responsibility than helping those in need?”

She struggled to find words. “Mister please, I didn’t know. It said SR03. How was I supposed to know.”

“Funny thing with these watches. They only show two digits. It helps when I want to blend in.” He touched his watch again. “Scratch that, reverse it.”

Her number jumped again. “Thank you, thank you… I’ll be a better person now.”

“No. I don’t think so.” He grabbed her shoulder. “You’re coming with me.”