Ernest Warms Up Frost

Margaret Frost was not well-known to Ernest, except in the way that she made herself known to everyone at school: a rock-loving, eighteen-year-old bag of not giving a fuck. She wore what she wanted, said what she wanted, and was happy to disrespect or outright ignore even the upper-echelons of Eastlake High society. She was also gay -- very, very gay -- and had made her preference known by breaking whatever (male) fingers or arms tried to offend her bodily autonomy. An innocent tap for a pencil seemed safe enough to Ernest despite knowing that; but that innocent tap had led to him being stalked to the bathroom by the black-haired punk queen. He barely got a word of protest out before she pulled him by the arm and dragged him into the girl's room. Despite a feminine form, she was strong; it was no wonder the popular girls didn't pick fights beyond leering glares and backtalk.

She stared Ernest down once she flung him deeper into the bathroom; she let him stumble to a stop by the sinks while she stood statuesque. The door slowly began to close until she leaned back and used her body to shut it, her eyes never leaving Ernest's; still looking at him, she reached up and locked the bathroom door. That was a suspension, at least; the faculty did not take kindly to what students did in locked bathrooms.

Especially boys in locked girls' bathrooms.

Especially when they were caught in there with a girl.

Shit.

"H-Hey, let me out-"

"Shut up."

Ernest glanced around at the stalls; each one swung out, but each was closed. He tried to duck low to peek-

WHAM!

A leather boot punted Ernest clean across his cheek and temple, sending him careening back. The tap had been gentle; Maggie wasn't committed to whether or not Ernest was a creep just yet. But she dragged him into her office for the sole purpose of verifying that, "Pay attention."

"Holy fuck- that...! Hurt...?" Ernest hissed his words, but quickly realized that the pain had been fleeting. Even if the kick was pulled back, a boot to the head-

His wishes.

He couldn't be wounded without his permission... and he wouldn't feel any pain beyond what was needed to notify him of injury.

Maggie, however, had been holding back; as far as she knew, Ernest's recovery was impressive, but still humanely possible, "You know who I am, right?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Then you know what'll happen if you creep on me again," the rocker almost growled.

Ernest was creeping on her?! Jessica was almost offended enough to make her presence known, but the less she interacted with Ernest the better. She turned her phone completely off, lest his fan club give her away; for now, all she had to do was continue to hide her feet and wait this out... whatever this was.

But the audacity of him! Creeping on that bitchy dyke Frost after all that bullshit about wanting her! Jessica was fuming near enough to burst. She continued to spy all that she could through the cracks of her stall. If there was any small blessing, it was that no one was likely to join them now that the bathroom was locked.

How the Hell did they get locked in the bathroom?!

Kris Crow had snuffed out the small, cinnamon-scented candle she had produced from her backpack. It had already melted some lines of wax over the cut-out photo of Ernest from the last yearbook--Crow's prime source for photographs for spells--and so some of the binding spell had already been completed... but to pull him towards her this soon?! And under these auspices? Crow had never known her magic to work this fast or this effectively; in truth, most Wiccan rituals, like every kind of magic or 'magick' she had tried, was more a kind of spiritual comfort food for occult-obsessed teens like Crow.

But she thought she had felt something strange about this ritual... and before the first beads of melted wax had encased the black and white Ernest, Jessica Edwards, one of the most popular girls in school, was suddenly sharing the restroom. Crow hadn't even wrapped the candle in red thread, or let the candle burn for five days; the ritual was barely begun, and then almost right after that odd coincidence... here Ernest was.

In the fucking girl's bathroom.

Crow knew it. Ernest seemed too clean, too good... and so he had to be a creep! At least until Crow realized he had been dragged in and-- ow! That looked like it hurt.

Ernest was still stunned by how much that kick didn't hurt, but he had to sell it, at least. Forcing a wince, he tried to explain, "I just wanted... a pencil."

"... A pencil," Maggie flatly replied. "You were holding a fucking pencil when you tapped me, dumbass."

Ernest sighed. He... was he? He shook his head as he tried to recall, but... in truth, he had been too distracted by suddenly being surrounded by hot and bothered women in his classroom. Maggie didn't seem too hot right now though; only exceptionally bothered.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he finally whispered.

"You're right. So don't touch me again," she growled as she grabbed his face to squeeze his cheeks and jaw, "or soOoooooO he-help me...?" Her threatening growl turned into a mewl as she felt her knees nearly buckle. This... sensation again. Embarrassment? Humiliation? Not quite... Maggie just never felt something like this from a man, and so it had to be some strange translation... some bizarre mistake...

But the fact remained that she had put her whole hand on his skin now, and now pleasure was coursing through her body like a thousand vibrations. Ernest stood and watched... and in a fleeting moment of moral weakness, he hesitated to pull her free. It was hard to take the high road when you're threatened with ****, after all.

"Orh wut?" he managed through squeezed cheeks.

"O-Or... I'll... shove... ah..." She drew closer... to threaten him right to his face, she was sure-

... and released his lips just enough to kiss them.

Ernest, terrified and guilty and suddenly horny, was petrified as the heavy metal lesbian's hands began rubbing his cheeks, then his neck, and then his shirt... and then back to his neck as her skin soon felt magnetized to his. Her lips popped off of his as she stammered, "Y-You're hearing me, right, you little... pervert...?"

"Maggie... you're uh-"

"Shut up."

"Yes'm."

She grabbed Ernest's ears and dragged him down to rub her cheek along his--she shivered in doing so--and breathed, "Take off your pants."

"W-W-W-W-What?!"

Jessica's teeth nearly ground together aloud. What?!

Crow shook her head in disbelief. Frost was bi?! What?!

"I have to know," Maggie hissed as she tugged on Ernest's belt, "the way you're making me feel... if you're... trans, then, that's fine, I just... there's no way a boy could... I mean, a physical... Shut up." Was that for him or her? "I said take them off." That was definitely for him.

Ernest blinked down as Maggie drifted down while she undid the buckle of his belt. Oh. Oh God. She thought she felt like this because she didn't believe Ernest has a...

Oh God... she's going to kill me.... or suck me off in the girl's bathroom... either way, I'm dead!

Maggie was determined to find a vagina under that belt, and so she pulled it loose and went for the button of Ernest's jeans.