Chapter Thirty

The back entrance to the locker room was actually a heavy set of metal fire doors.

They weren’t supposed to be opened from the outside and a sign above the doorway warned that an alarm would sound in the event it happened. That may well have been the case when the seventy-two thousand square foot sporting arena was first built in the late naughties, but since the all-female cheer squad had claimed the women’s locker rooms as their eminent domain, certain changes had been necessitated.

Important safety and security concerns had been bypassed, simply so the members–each of them exclusively young, stunningly attractive and superbly fit–had a discreet means of egress to and from their private clubhouse.

Britney heaved her way through those same doors, prepared to snap at anyone–short of Coach Meadows or the soon to be deposed Cheer Captain Ellory–who dared to shoot her a dirty look or snide remark.

Those were her personal prerogative after all.

But the changing room was surprisingly still, and worryingly underpopulated by the chattering forms of sixteen college-aged coeds getting ready in the woefully underutilized space designed to accommodate twenty times their number.

The deliberate display of wastefulness just added to the cheer squad's mystique and social stature. A sign of sinful excess that could be flaunted in the faces of the other women’s intercollegiate sports teams who had to undress in the more public campus restrooms, or worse, in their shitbox cars.

That little reminder would usually buoy up Britney’s anxious spirits and fortify the impenetrable armor of her haughty demeanor but she didn’t have time to indulge in petty spite today. If her squad mates weren’t there then they must have taken to the stage without her.

Unacceptable. Inauspicious! She didn’t want to miss it…

Seething like an angry thundercloud through the rows and banks of boringly beige storage and timber benches, Britney rounded a corner only to stop dead in her stalking steps at the sight of two feminine figures struggling together on the tiled floor right in front of an open locker.

Tessa and Farah, her two newest squad-mates and minions, appeared to be… wrestling in a large slick puddle of what looked like vanilla pudding. Smelled like it too, if Britney’s twitching nose didn’t deceive her.

“What the…”

Her ocean-blue eyes trailed up the thick lines of white gloop coating the banks of lockers to the source of the pungent mess.

It was her very own locker.

The simple fastening bolt had been bent to a useless angle and the thin aluminum door was buckled where it had been wrenched open to spill the creamy slime everywhere. The interior and her skimpy cheer uniform oozed as though the boxy space had been piped full to the brim with the foul stuff. The rage and dismay Britney felt at the horrifying discovery was only partially eclipsed by the wet squelching noises of the two barely-legal freshmen rolling around at her feet.

“Get away! Is mine…”

“Hey, I got the door open, back off!”

The mocha-skinned knockout and the athletic brunette snarled insults at each other as they fought over a sodden white sneaker–Britney’s sneaker–filled with the pearly gunk. They were only dressed in plain cotton bras and panties, as though they had been distracted mid-wardrobe change, and their slim young bodies glistened wetly like professional jello wrestlers.

“Don’t be such a greedy bitch, Tara!”

“You’re the one oinking like a piggy, slut!”

Britney could only watch in spell-bound confusion as Farah yanked the dripping footwear free of the other girl’s grasp with a victorious cry, then buried her pretty face into it with a loud series of happy slurps.

“Fuck!” Tara swore, her carob-coloured curls were a soaked matted tangle that stuck to her heated cheeks like grade school glue. “Gimme that damn skirt–”

Then she snatched Britney’s drenched blue and white cheer uniform off the hanger, held it in both hands over her upturned face and twisted it like a wet towel. Beads and strings of the vanilla goo were wrung out of the soiled spandex, splattering down onto Tara’s outstretched tongue and drooling chin. One especially fat glob pasted a fluttering eyelid shut before the hungrily moaning coed began to suck the remaining pearly fluid out of the knotted-up skirt.

“Mmmwah! Tastes sooo~ good!” Farah slurred around her sloppy mouthful, her dusky lips and skin glossy with smeared cream.

“Glooormph~!” Tara agreed, much of her pungent prize running down her gulping neck to gather in the valley of her swollen tanned cleavage.

Blinking rapidly, Britney shook her head to clear the cloyingly sweet clouds from her mind. Since when did little Tara have cleavage? The girl was short and lean with a gymnasts lithe build, lacking an ounce of excess weight and–more notably–was flat as an ironing board. It made her the perfect candidate for basket tosses and one-armed lifts.

Farah was much the same. Britney had previously declared them the founding co-chairs of the itty-bitty committee during the standard hazing initiations that inducted them as full-blooded members of the UIS Prairie Stars.

She had been quite proud of that cutting quip at the time. All the rookies had to strip in the showers under the jeers and catcalls of the rest of the squad. An indignity Britney herself had been spared by means of implied threats and not-inconsiderable financial gratuities. All paid from the deep wallets of her countless online cucks of course.

What could they have possibly found to mock her nakedness anyway?

Her perfect tits, taut figure and tight butt? Ridiculous. Unnecessary.

Only now, midnight-haired Farah was bent double at hips that had grown thick with new muscle with her visibly rounder ass waggling high in the air as she glutted herself from Britney’s shoe. She was even forming that mouthwatering crease at the summit of her fleshier thighs where her smooth pelvis kissed the tips of her meaty quads, kneeling in the stinky spill and gorging herself on vanilla-scented goop.

Tara was similarly changed, except where the Bedouin beauty sported fresh childbearing hips and an ass that would put the ripest Georgia peach to shame… the trim brunette was all inflating tits.

They bubbled and bulged from within her small training bra, rising like two oven baked buns from the pinching cups of her ill-equipped chest support. Underboob, sideboob and pushed-up cleavage burst from every side of the overwrought undergarment–warping and distending around the biting straps–as the otherwise petite brunette started licking up the sweet-smelling white muck off the locker room floor. Her chin was basically couched in her expansive tits as she tongue-bathed the tiles clean.

This was all wrong. Something had gone terribly awry and Britney wondered if she had strayed into some bizarro world alternate universe. A twisted twilight zone episode where good, compliant waifs guzzled tasty-looking slop off the ground and saliva flooded her own pretty mouth at the sweet temptation of sampling the flavor.

Just one small lick would be enough…

“No… no…” Britney groaned, feeling a strong magnetic pull towards the two girls and whatever the scrumptious-smelling hell they were wallowing in. Her booted feet stumbled forward on their own volition. “I–I can’t… not me. Not like this...”

There was something powerful at work here. An abstract, indescribable weight pushed down on her thoughts and senses with all the sinister appeal of an addictive ****. If she accepted it, the immediate rewards would be exquisite, ecstatic bliss and Britney would be lost to it forever.

Deep down she recognized this. Didn’t she peddle her own enchanting good-looks in a vaguely similar fashion. Trapping and ensnaring weak-willed losers in her complex web of false promises and erotic insinuation?

“Not me, never.” She groaned, forcing her disobedient feet to take a single, painful step back. “Never me.”

Then the college PA System hummed to life and an exotically accented feminine voice purred through the campus-wide speakers. It sounded musically melodic, full of eastern european soft vowels and had a husky seductive quality.

“Welcome prestigious faculty members and honored students.” The faceless but undoubtedly gorgeous woman–judging by the rich timbre of her voice– announced. “We thank you all for attending the UIS School Spirit Rally today. The celebration will commence with a performance from your very own Prairie Stars Cheer Squad. Please come on me in giving them a rousing round of applause…”

Britney tore herself away from Tara and Farah who had begun to lick and caress each other's newly bodacious bodies, slurping the scrummy sludge off their growing curves with increasingly amorous moans of gastronomic gusto.

She didn’t want to miss it!

Still clutching the forgotten scrap of yellow paper in hand and dismissing any thoughts of getting changed into her ruined uniform, Britney fled for the large doors leading out to the main arena, her booted heels skidding precariously on the tiled floor as she went.

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