Chelsea's Humiliating Misadventures

It's been a long day for Chelsea Arlington, the leader of the cheerleaders, prom queen and (known to everybody since their first day at school) queen bee of the Clayton high-school. The 5'9" 20-year old blonde bombshell, right now approaching her white Mercedes S-class, spend the whole day dealing with this disgusting bunch of so-called teachers, actually just old, poor, smelly grandparents without any hobbies in life, as well as the lots of other lesser beings, like the losers from the maths club with their ugly big glasses and their gross, old-fashioned bags or these crazy anime weirdos with ears on their hats.

Chelsea was busy today, busy pouring her latte machiato over a math book, busy stepping with her stilettos on a weirdo's anime cushion and busy paying the fat police office fifty bucks for not giving her a speeding ticket. Oh and of course busy telling baseball captain Brad to not touch her again. He is a stupid douchebag and she is way to precious for him.

UURGH, Chelsea sighed. To put this school or even this whole town in a nutshell: all these people are so disgusting. And poor. And smelly.

It's really been a long day, Chelsea thought as she got into her luxurious car. She opened her Gucci bag and used her make-up mirror to check her beautiful, slightly tanned face. Her long blonde hair, with the bitchy waves, was still perfectly shaped. Her slim athletic body was hugged by a white crop top, a black leather jacket and a pair of skintight black wetlook-leggings. The tight expensive clothes hugged her c-cup breasts, her skinny waist and her round, firm booty. A gaze at her MacWatch told her it was almost 5 pm, time to get home.

As she was about to start driving a figure stepped into her way, right before the hood of her car. "Huh? The fuck are you?" Chelsea said, already pissed. She was not used to somebody getting into her way. She quickly got out of the car, her cold blue eyes following the person in front of her. "What's your problem? Fuck off, loser!"