**Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in sex in the following story are at least eighteen years of age.
Apalachee Cloud squared off against Emily St. Martin, ready for this fight. It had been brewing for a few months now, ever since Christmas break ended. Emily had been teasing and taunting the overweight girl nonstop and Apalachee had decided to put a stop to it, once and for all. The students of Jack's Creek High School crowded around, ready to see a fight and chanted, "Fight! Fight!" as Emily threw the first punch.
"All Right!" Mr. Brown thundered as he pushed his way through the throng and grabbed Emily by her shoulders and pulled her back. "Break it up! Break it up!"
The two eighteen-year-old girls glared hatefully at each other as they sat in the classroom. The two-hour detention ticked by quietly, slowly. Finally, it was four thirty five and Mr. Brown waved them out of the classroom.
"Fucking lucky for you he showed up," Emily hissed. "I'd have kicked your fat ass!"
"You wish, bitch!" Apalachee spat back. "I'd have killed you, no problem."
"Yeah?" Emily challenged.
"Yeah," Apalachee said and stopped walking.
"Well, not here and now now," Emily sneered. "I got to get home."
"Fine," Apalachee said. "Saturday, down by the Bed. One o'clock."
"Fine," Emily said and glared at the girl.
"And, leave your little friends at home," Apalachee said. "This is between you and me. Don't want your little buddies jumping me."
The Bed was the dry creek bed that made up what used to be known as Jack's Creek. The small Louisiana town had sprung up around the tributary of the Atchafalaya Bayou and used to make its income from the crawfish that burrowed along the banks of the sediment rich creek. Water had not flowed through it for nearly eighty-three years, though. No water, no crawfish. Most of the three thousand residents of Jack's Creek, Louisiana worked in Ellgee, the small town to the west of Jack's Creek. Ellgee had access to Interstates 10 and 49 and therefore had a more robust economy than did Jack's Creek.
When people in Jack's Creek said they were going to town, they meant Ellgee. When they were going to Alexandria, the nearest large city, they said 'Alex.'
"Like I need my friends to kick your ass," Emily sneered.
Apalachee let herself in to the small trailer she shared with her stepfather and began to cook their dinner. He would be home in an hour, so she worked rapidly. He stayed with the girl after her mother had died, but both knew that one day, Richard Blackfoot would pull up his stakes and travel wherever he pleased. He was, in Appalachia's eyes, a good man.
Her mother had met Richard Blackfoot a few years after Appalachia's father left them for a woman from Texas that talked about all the oil money she had Apalachee did not know if the woman spoke the truth or not; they'd never seen a penny from the woman or her father.
She finished the meal of pan-fried chicken and mashed potatoes and put the dishes into the oven to await Richard's arrival. She sat at the kitchen table and did her homework while she waited. She thought back to the first time she met Emily St. Martin.
Chapter 3Both girls stood at the bus stop and waited for the bus that would take them to kindergarten. Both girls wanted to cry, but didn't want the other girl to see them crying, so they stood there and sniffed back their tears. Neither girl saw their mothers standing behind the big oak tree, watching them.
Dawn Cloud and her husband were large boned people; Dawn tipped the scales at two hundred and seventy two pounds.
Mrs. St. Martin was a petite blonde; the two women couldn't have been more different, yet both women smiled at each other in understanding as they watched their little girls.
"I'm Emily. Emily St. Martin," the pretty blonde finally said.
"I'm Apalachee Cloud," the pudgy girl said.
"Ape-what?" Emily asked.
"Apalachee," Apalachee said slowly and clearly. She then recited what she had heard every day from the day of her birth. "I'm named after the proud Indian tribe that my ancestors belonged to. The roamed this land we now call 'Louisiana' and were a great Indian nation' "
"Your what?" Emily asked. "What's an insesor?"
"Ancestors," Apalachee said. "That's your grandparents and great grandparents."
"Oh," Emily said and looked down the gravel road again for the bus that was supposed to take them to school.
"Does that mean you're an Indian?" she asked and looked at the pudgy girl. She did look kind of Indian, her long black hair done in braids, her skin a light reddish brown.
"Yes I am," Apalachee said with pride.
"I wish I was too," Emily said. "Do you get to ride Horsies? Do you live in a tent or anything?"
"No, my mommy and daddy and me live in a trailer," Apalachee said.
Both mothers smiled and dabbed at a tear as the two girls held hands and climbed into the large yellow bus.
They sat together in their classroom with the twelve other children, and when Apalachee had to stand and tell all the other children her name, Emily chimed in proudly with "And she's a real live Indian!"
They ate their lunch together and held hands as they ran around the playground with the other children. This would be a trend repeated every day for the next ten years.
As they grew older, Emily's beauty grew. As they grew older, Apalachee's weight grew as well. Emily found out that it was easier to make fun of Apalachee, to join the others in mocking her former best friend rather than defend her. Apalachee's weight problem was genetic in origin, but the extra chocolate brownies with her lunch and the candy bars she was addicted to, along with the constant sodas and chips added to the problem. Thankfully, her skin was not prone to acne and she had the high cheekbones, piercing black eyes, and long straight black hair of her ancestors. Most had to agree, even with the nearly one hundred extra pounds, Apalachee was still a very pretty girl.
Apalachee wondered what had happened that had made Emily escalate from the occasional catty remark or jibe to the outright animosity she was experiencing now. She racked her brain, but couldn't find anything at all. She wanted a candy bar, but had firmly made a pledge to God that she would stop eating junk food and would start exercising. She wanted desperately to be slender, svelte. She knew that when people looked at her, they didn't see the warm, loving girl underneath the flab. They didn't see the intelligent, witty young lady. No, all they saw was the fat blob and that was as far as any of them ever got.
Emily St. Martin giggled as she recounted the events of the day to her boyfriend, Derek Hamilton.
"Yeah, the stupid cow says she's going to kick my ass," Emily said.
"Yeah, right," Derek laughed. "You could run circles around her before she could even grab you once!"
Emily finally hung up after her mother called her for the fifth time to come down for supper. Emily didn't give any further thought to her altercation with Apalachee. She did briefly wonder what she saw in Derek Hamilton, though. He was handsome enough, that was true, but he constantly talked about other girls, what he'd done with the ones he'd been with and what he'd like to do with the ones he'd not been with.
She'd not given in to his incessant demands for sex, even though she was not a virgin, knowing that if she did and she and Derek split up, his next girlfriend would hear all about it. Really, Derek Hamilton was kind of immature and brash.
His comments were what had sparked the animosity toward Apalachee Cloud. Derek had seen the girl ride by on her mountain bike, tanned legs pumping hard as the girl pushed herself harder and harder, trying to shed those damned pounds.
"Mother fucker, she's got a nice set of tits!" Derek had said.
He then grabbed one of Emily's small breasts and laughed as she squealed and slapped his hand away.
"Too bad you don't have knockers like that, huh?" Derek had smirked, knowing that her small breasts were a thorn in Emily's side.
After dinner, Apalachee cleaned the dishes and logged onto her laptop computer. Several new orders for her natural honey soap had accumulated since she checked them that morning and she quickly sorted out the orders and prepared them for mailing the next morning. The orders for her beeswax candles had not garnered any new orders, and the four from that morning were already on their way out to the clients of 'Apalachee Soaps and Sundries.'
"Good night Proud Child," Richard said as she walked past him toward the bathroom.
He had called her that from the first day they met and she proudly told him what her name meant.
"Well, then, you have a lot to be proud of, child," he smiled. "You should be a proud child!"
Mother and child giggled at the silly man but Apalachee decided that Richard Blackfoot was a very wise man and would be a good husband for her mother.
Dawn Cloud Blackfoot died from the three packs a day cigarette habit she had. Two years after her death, the trailer still had the lingering smell of her cigarette smoke. Neither Richard or Apalachee smoked nor when weather permitted, they would open every window in the small mobile home, but it was as if Dawn was determined to always linger on in their minds.
Apalachee weighed herself as she stood, naked, in the small bathroom and fought down the urge to squeal. She had lost another four pounds. At five foot seven, she figured her optimum weight to be one hundred and sixty pounds and if this scale was right, she only had another forty-eight pounds to go.
She stepped into the shower and lathered up her body with a bar of her own honey soap. It made her skin feel clean, but not dried up like regular soaps did. It was moisturizing enough to facilitate dragging a razor along her long legs and her underarms. She had once considered shaving the dark bush of hair that protected her slit, but decided against it. She remembered how proud and excited she had been when she first saw a few wisps of hair down there and still fluffed her fingers through the hair with some pride. Why shave that off?
As always, before she went to bed, she knelt by the side of her bed and prayed for the deliverance of her mother's spirit to Heaven. She prayed for God to smile down on her and to protect her from those that would rob her of her heritage, of her pride.
Emily did not kneel by her bed, having nothing to pray for. Her parents said that they were Christian people, but that was a huge joke in her eyes. Her mother stayed at home and popped prescription pills by the handful while her father went to work and screwed his lover of seventeen years. Noel St. Martin did very little to conceal the existence of Terri from his family. He owned one of the only two car dealerships in Ell gee so as Emily liked to laugh, he also screwed his customers too.
Saturday rolled around and Apalachee ate a breakfast laden with protein, and then exercised vigilantly.
After she was done, she donned her beekeeper uniform and tended to the several hives she had set up in the strawberry patches of her neighbors. She carefully loaded her wagon with the sweet honey and the wax she'd gathered.
She ate a light lunch, and then jogged to the Bed.
"Thought you were going to chicken out," Emily sneered.
"Nope, some of us actually have work to do," Apalachee said easily.
"Ready?" Emily asked and prepared to throw a punch.
"Wait, let's set up some ground rules first," Apalachee said.
"Fine, like what?" Emily sneered.
"Like I isn't going to get sued by your momma and daddy when I knock out all your teeth," Apalachee said. "Or break your precious little stuck up in the air nose."
"Right," Emily said.
"I mean it, I work hard for what I got," Apalachee said.
"Okay, all right," Emily said, exasperated.
"Number two, when I win, you got to stop all the name calling and stuff," Apalachee demanded.
"IF," Emily corrected.
"I mean it," Apalachee said. "No more of the fat jokes and no more of the stuff about Indians or about me living in a trailer."
"Fine, and what do I get if I win?" Emily asked.
"What do you want?" Apalachee asked. "Far as I know, I've done nothing to you."
"Um, I want, let's see," Emily thought, drawing a blank.
Apalachee waited as the beautiful blonde thought. It was a beautiful day; the humidity had not reached an intolerable level yet. It was a day just like this, thirteen years ago. Even though Emily was now five foot four, with thirty two A cup breasts, a twenty eight inch waist, and thirty one inch hips, Apalachee could still see the little girl that had been her best friend in the whole wide world.
"I got it!" Emily crowed happily. "If I win, you have to be my slave for the rest of the school year!"
"Your what?" Apalachee asked.
"My slave," Emily smugly declared. "That means, you have to do whatever I tell you to, no matter what, until we graduate."
"Fine, stupid bitch," Apalachee laughed. "Same for you too."
Emily was confident that she could easily win; she was lighter and more agile than Apalachee. Plus that, she had often gotten into fights with her older and younger brothers and usually won.
"Okay, how do we know who wins?" Apalachee asked.
"When one of us says 'I quit,' which will be you," Emily said.
"Fine, let's go," Apalachee said and ducked Emily's poorly thrown punch.
Emily staggered back; her opponent's fist connected very solidly with her jaw. She staggered again; Apalachee had connected with her solar plexus, knocking all of the wind out of her.
"Emily, let's stop this right now," Apalachee said. "You don't know how to fight, it's really not fair."
"Fuck you, stupid fat cow!" Emily screamed
Apalachee's next punch was to Emily's breastbone, knocking Emily squarely onto her ass.
"This is stupid," Apalachee said. "You act all bad and shit, but you really don't know how to fight."
It had never occurred to Emily that her brothers might be taking it easy on her because she was a girl. It also had never occurred to her that her brothers weren't very good at fighting either.
"Fucking bitch!" Emily sobbed as she lunged for Apalachee.
She came to, her head cradled in Apalachee's lap, Apalachee softly stroking her face.
"Had enough?" Apalachee quietly asked.
"What happened?" Emily stupidly asked.
"I knocked you out," Apalachee said simply.
"No shit?" Emily said, looking into the black eyes of her opponent.
"No shit," Apalachee said and sighed.
"How long was I out?" Emily asked.
"Many many moons," Apalachee quipped.
"Shut up," Emily couldn't help but giggle.
"Come on, you quit?" Apalachee asked.
"Yeah, I guess so," Emily agreed.
"No more of the name calling?" Apalachee asked.
"No more, Emily agreed and tried to sit up.
She felt dizzy and Apalachee eased her back down and combed the blonde hair back out of her blue eyes.
"Wow, you really did a number on me," Emily groaned.
"Wasn't that hard," Apalachee agreed and continued to stroke the girl's face and hair.
Neither one of them stirred for several long moments. Emily reached up and gripped Apalachee's hand and pressed it to her cheek.
"I'm sorry," she said sincerely.
"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Apalachee said. There was no malice in her voice, though.
"What?" Emily asked. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, I'm looking forward to having a slave for the next four and a half weeks," Apalachee said.
"What? Oh, come on, you can't be serious!" Emily cried out.
"You were serious and you would have made me do any number of things," Apalachee said simply. "And I am sure most of them would have been very uncomfortable or humiliating for me. Right?"
Emily thought about if for a moment, then somberly nodded her head.
"What would you have made me do?" Apalachee asked and smiled at Emily, who blushed heavily.
"Probably made you, oh, Apalachee, don't make me say it!" Emily tried to turn her head away, but Apalachee held it firmly.
"What?" Apalachee asked.
"I would have made you eat me, you know? In the locker room in front of Kathy and Ingrid and Amy and Gail," Emily admitted.
"Oh, well, don't worry," Apalachee, said. "Anything I make you do is going to be private. Kathy and Ingrid and Amy and Gail don't need to know about any of our business. What else?"
"Derek's all hot and shit about your big old boobs," Emily said, blush still on full throttle. "I'd probably have made you fuck him."
"Derek can go fuck himself," Apalachee said. "I really don't want everyone knowing everything about me. He gossips worse than any girl I've ever seen."
"Really," Emily giggled.
"What do you see in him?" Apalachee asked and Emily's blue eyes searched Apalachee's black eyes for any malice or ill will.
"I really don't know," Emily admitted. "I mean, he's cute enough, but he's kind of an ass-hole."
"Kind of?" Apalachee snorted.
"Yeah, I'm going to break up with him," Emily admitted.
"Okay, that's your first order as my slave," Apalachee decided. "You have to call him up and tell him bye-bye, at least until he grows up."
"Okay," Emily agreed happily enough.
"Think you can get up now?" Apalachee asked her and Emily sat up without any difficulty.
Apalachee got to her feet and pulled Emily up. She carefully studied the girl's face and assured herself that Emily was indeed okay.
"On Monday, wear the blue top with your white miniskirt," Apalachee ordered.
"Okie-dokie," Emily agreed happily.
Apalachee grabbed Emily in a fierce hug and roughly jammed her tongue into her mouth. Emily struggled for a moment but a sharp slap to her left breast stilled her struggles and she submitted to the intimate kiss. When she finished kissing her, Apalachee pulled back and looked intently into Emily's now confused eyes.
"Don't ever struggle with me; you are my slave, remember?" Apalachee spoke, almost angrily.
"Yes ma'am," Emily said and looked a ground in embarrassment.
"Good," Apalachee said and went home.
Richard's truck was outside, a few boxes sitting in the bed
"Check from the lawyer," Richard said simply and Apalachee looked at it, then at him.
"You're leaving," she said. It wasn't a question.
Dawn had filled out a life insurance form and paid on it religiously for nine years. Of course, upon her death, the insurance company balked at paying the claim. Finally, Apalachee convinced Richard to get a lawyer to fight the insurance company.
"Your half is sixty seven thousand," he said and closed the lid of his battered suitcase.
: And what's your half?" she asked, knowing that Richard would not take money unless she told him it was okay.
"The lawyer said I should get forty three thousand, but I told him that's your money," he said.
"Take it, Richard," she urged. "I've got my business and my bees, you got what? A truck?"
"I love you, Proud Child," he admitted and then he left the trailer.
She didn't cry; tears were pointless and would weigh Richard's soul down and hamper his travels. She found a feather, kissed it, then released it into the spring breeze. It fluttered then blew away and she wished him well on his journey.
Emily's stomach lurched slightly, but she set her sore jaw firmly and called Derek. He took it about as she had expected; with a great deal of whining, accusations, and bitterness. Once she was done, she had to wonder again why she had ever gone out with him.
Monday morning she gleefully dressed in the light blue top and white miniskirt. She put on her leather sandals and skipped down to catch the bus.
"Let's see," Apalachee said as she and Emily stood in the bathroom. The moment Emily had sauntered into their classroom; Apalachee had motioned with her head toward the bathroom.