Trish Takes Her Jacket Off, Ms. Bradley is Going In Her Armpit

Trish instantly comes up with a wicked idea about what to do with her former teacher. She whispered in Carmen's ear, "How about I shove this hag up my pit; you know, give her a real workover like you did?" The tomboy goddess grinned, and looked at her punk friend like a master smiling at her star pupil. Tossing the school-staff-turned-ragdoll over to her mortal buddy, she looked on in excitement.

Trish threatened the tiny teacher in her hands. "Hey, ya old bat. You listenin' to me?" There was no response; Bradshaw was still in a manic state from her latest job as Carmen's old pair of socks, clutching herself and crying like a baby. The giant punk blew all over her, mouth still reeking of tobacco. This time she coughed violently, but she was no closer to responding than before. "Guess I'll hafta give you a refresher course," Trish said, handing her new toy back to Carmen and pulling her jacket off. She was out in the heat, too, so she wasn't any less sweaty than Carmen today.

Laying her jacket on the table, Trish raised her lifted her arm, resting her hand on the back of her head. With a sound that made even Trish herself cringe, the moist, sticky flesh of her armpit peeled away from her arm, and it's rank, sour stench wafted out in the direction of her former teacher. Carmen was having a lot of fun with the bitch in her hands, dangling her from a pointer finger crushing her in a fist, but when she noticed what her friend was doing, she stopped, coughed, and waved a hand in front of her face. "Whew; you really worked up a sweat out here! You almost smell raunchier than me..." Trish gave Carmen a deadpan look. "...Hehe, just kidding!"

The goddess pressed a finger over Bradshaw's mouth and slowly stretched her arms out closer to Trish's exposed underarm, forcing her to breathe in the ripe odor of a long day. The punk sniffed her own pit, sighing at the pungent b.o. she had. "Ahhh...Remember that, Bitchshaw? That's the sweet smell of hard work; not that you'd know anything about that, pushin' pencils all day. Well, more like you had US pushin pencils while you sat on your ass barking at us, right Carm?" She responded with an evil smirk and squeezed the shitty excuse of a teacher in her hand, eager to see her get shoved back into a world of stink. "Well, look where you are now: at the hands of a couple of no good, deadbeat punks! Hope you enjoy the ride; I heard it's gonna get pretty humid where you're going..."

As she was moved towards the awful expanse of damp flesh that was the pit of the single worst student she's had, the adrenaline rushing through Bradshaw snapped her out of her shell-shocked state, and reinvigorated her. She immediately began thrashing and squirming against Carmen's grip, managing to move her head enough that she could breathe through her mouth. The bitter truth was, that wasn't much better; she could practically taste the punk's funk, and she wasn't even that close to the source!

"Ooo, is someone getting a little antsy?" Bradshaw struggled even harder in Carmen's hands. "Aww, we shouldn't keep her waiting, Trish!" Her eyes widened, and she might as well be having a seizure with how desperately she was trying to claw out of her **** sentence.

Deciding that she'd done enough teasing, Trish snatches Bradshaw out of Carmen's hands and jams her face-first into a steamy armpit hell. It was SO much worse than the tiny teacher could imagine! The sticky, sweat-coated skin of this punk girl's pit covered her and absolutely drenched her body in the salty essence of Trish's hard work. It didn't rival the month she spent as the tomboy's socks, but it was still one of the worst experiences she's had in her life, and it hadn't even been a minute.

The girls laughed mockingly, enjoying the plight of the tiny woman before them. Trish rubbed her captive deep into the recesses of her pit flesh, pressing her in like a towel.

"Ohhh fuck yeah, that REALLY hits the spot. Thanks, you stupid old hag!" Bradshaw only screamed into the folds of her fetid prison--which only succeeded in allowing Trish's hot sweat to flow directly into her already-tainted mouth. "Hey, think about it! You're contributing WAY more to society than you were at that shitty old teaching job you had. Now you're the sweat rag of a badass bitch and her equally bitchin' half-god friend! Wouldn't you say that's worth somethin'?" Her screaming intensifies, but her struggles weaken. "Aww, stop flattering us! I'll give ya a break--*snrk*--when we get back to my place."

"You mind givin' me a ride there?" Carmen butted in. "I wanna be there when you fuck with her more."

"Fuck yeah, Carm! Got a helmet?"

"Helmets are for pussies!"

"Right answer!"

****

Both of them rode on Trish's black motorcycle. They drove for a while; Trish was hanging around the alleyway because it was near Carmen's place, and she figured she might pay a surprise visit. Her actual home, an apartment a bit out of town, was about half an hour away. Do they stop on the way to her home?