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Chapter 6 by Lordofgoats Lordofgoats

Is it Emily Davis or someone else?

It’s Emily Davis.

You feel your head jerked backwards roughly, the immediate pressure on your scalp relieved as you stumble backwards only to trip over someone’s outstretched foot. Your short chunky frame falling to the floor in a heap with your shirt riding up a little as you collapse to reveal a sliver of your chubby stomach. Immediately a derisive voice rings out, belonging to one of Emily’s cronies.

“Ugh, put your fat away you ugly cunt. Nobody needs to see that!”

Reaching with your hands you try to adjust your shirt but just as quickly as you try to adjust two pairs of strong feminine hands haul you to your feet and push you hard against the lockers, your back twinges as you slam agains the hard metal and you rebound into another pair of hands, stumbling and almost falling as you lose your balance. Again before you can recover and gain your feet fully, you are shoved again toward a different pair of hands, again you are pushed away from the person in a rough circle, being slammed against the rough metal lockers repeatedly in a brutal bully circle.

Through the pain, you can still here the whispering voices. Occasional flashes of sympathetic eyes, normally someone would have intervened by how before it had gone further than a bit of pushing, but your rule made it so nobody would interfere and you could feel your panties getting stuck to your pussy from the amount of juices you were producing, the pain and humiliation of being trapped in a bully circle making you incredibly horny. A voice then rings out from the crowd

“Strip the dirty pig!”

You don’t recognise the voice, but a hand roughly grips your hair again. The same manicured nails that you’ve seen too many times to count sinking into soft flesh and cruelly pinching when a teacher wouldn’t notice are just about in your eyeline and the voice filled with contempt for you rings out.

“Good idea from the crowd, what do you say piggy? Do you want to strip for us? Or should we strip you?”

Your head is jerked around and wrenched backwards, forcing you to look up into the tall buxom cheerleaders beautiful face.

Strip or refuse?

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