Lunch

Luckily, your next block was lunch so it didn't matter that you were ten minutes late, having stayed behind in the locker room until the pain had started to fade to a tolerable amount. It still hurt, badly, but you weren't seeing stars anymore so that was a plus. You were still walking with your legs spread when you got to the lunch line and took a metal tray. You weren't the only one still in line, it always took about eleven to twelve minutes for the lunch line to completely clear out, but there was a suspicious lack of lunch ladies and an even more suspicious amount of devious smiles in your direction. The way the lunch line was set up meant you were in a tiny room alone with them with no faculty member that could see you or, more to the point, no faculty member that could help you as the bullies grabbed your arms and **** them behind your back. No faculty member to step in as they **** your jeans off and **** a new looking pair of panties on you. No faculty member to yell at them to knock it off as they dumped what looked like disgusting school banana pudding down the front of your panties as you squealed from the cold. No faculty member to send them to the principal's office as they YANKED the front of your new panties up to your shoulders in one tug as two of them had both hands on the front of your waistband, lifting you a few inches in the air as your weight was supported solely by your aching slit! Tears sprung to the corners of your eyes as you cried out in agony and disgust as your clit was crushed by the fabric, the pudding spreading to every crevice of your aching cunt! You gasp as the guy behind you lets your arms go and yanks your panties up your ass, squishing your clit from a different direction as the pudding spread thouroughly into every part of you. Then, they take your empty tray and swing it up sideways into your cunt, earning a loud 'squish' sound as it pushed past the pudding to crush your clit! You cry out in pain and hold your throbbing cunt when a sound comes from the kitchen around the corner. Quickly, they pull your jeans up for you and place your tray back into your hands, tugging your shirt to cover your stretched waistband and one of them wraps their arms around your waist to keep you on your trembling feet, effectively hiding any evidence of what just happened just in time for the lunch lady to return with another pan of that disgusting pudding.