The Humiliation Of Jen Ch. 03

Recapping the characters:

My Ma, Pa, older brother Jethro and younger sister Trixie

My Uncle Jimmy & Aunt Shirley, and their 2 sons, Stan & Billy

My cousin Dirk

My boyfriend Bobby

Sonja, the bitch cheerleader

*

The following morning Jethro woke me at an obscenely early hour. I am not a morning person and struggled to get my eyes to focus. My body ached from the previous night's gyrations that I had struggled through as Sonja tried in vain to make me the cheerleader I did not want to be. On the ride home last night Jethro and I had sat in stony silence for most of the journey. I was mad at what Uncle Jimmy had put me through, and Jethro was obviously upset that he had to watch his little sister doing it. As we pulled into our parents' driveway I turned to Jethro.

"You have to help me, Jethro," I pleaded.

"With what," he responded, unwilling to look at me. "Help you be a slut? Help you to humiliate me in front of my team members?"

"Jethro, that is really unfair. You know I don't want to do this. If you think you are humiliated, spare a thought for me. How do you think I feel?"

Jethro thought about it. "I guess you are right," he admitted reluctantly. "How can I help?"

"You can kill Uncle Jimmy for a start. Don't you know any good assassins?"

We both laughed and it at least broke the tension.

"Jethro, I have so many problems I don't know where to start. But firstly at least help me to get fit as I have a fitness test at Thursday's practice and I know I will just die."

So at 6.00am Jethro dragged me out of bed and took me for a run. Well at least he ran, while I staggered along behind in a state of constant oxygen deprivation. He spent most of his time doubling back so I could catch him up. All very embarrassing.

The following morning the process was repeated again, even though I had the fitness test in the evening. As one would expect, I was no better, but in a way I was proud of myself for at least getting out and giving it a go. I was no athlete, and certainly no cheerleader, but I was motivated to get fitter so that I would not be getting constantly degraded by Uncle Jimmy, Sonja and the basketball team.

When I arrived at the stadium for my orchestra rehearsal I was just wearing my gym gear with a sweatshirt over the top. I had decided to put my gym gear on before leaving home so I would not have to endure going into the men's locker room to get changed.

When I arrived for rehearsal, Bobby, my boyfriend, was surprised at my choice of clothing as I was far more casually dressed than is normal for me. I had only spoken to him briefly at college since the last rehearsal and had mentioned nothing about the bet I had lost with Uncle Jimmy.

"I don't mean to be rude, Jen," Bobby spoke politely, "but you don't normally come to rehearsal clothed like that. Going to do a bit of basketball practice afterwards, are we," he laughed.

I decided I had to tell him something, but before I could think through what I was going to say one of the girls from the orchestra leaned over to Jimmy.

"Didn't she tell you Jimmy? She is going to be a cheerleader."

Bobby's jaw dropped open. I hung my head in embarrassment. I had made a mess of things again.

"Oh, I am sorry Jimmy," the girl added. "Didn't she tell you? Girlfriends shouldn't keep secrets from you, you know. It is not a good look." She twisted the knife before giving me a condescending smile.

"Jen?" Bobby looked really hurt.

I had no choice. I told him the truth about losing the bet and now I had to go through the whole embarrassing experience with Uncle Jimmy. Bobby went real quiet, and he was clearly upset. However orchestra rehearsal commenced and when it finished he left without saying a word.

I felt hurt but didn't have time to dwell on it as the basketball players were already arriving, including Jethro and cousin Dirk. Last into the stadium were Uncle Jimmy and his two gormless sons, Stan and Billy. Accompanying them was the slut, Sonja. She was looking very chummy with my uncle, and I immediately wondered if he was banging the cheerleader. I would not put it past him at all.

Sonja was still in her work clothes. I had heard she helps out at the bowling alley if she doesn't have classes. She had to get changed into her gym clothing, so I expected to see her head off to the men's locker room like I had to on the previous practice night. I was staggered when Uncle Jimmy reached into his pocket and handed Sonja a key. She immediately walked over to the women's locker room and let herself in. Uncle Jimmy looked over and gave me one of his lopsided grins.

'You bastard,' I thought. 'You had a key the whole time.'

My slime-ball uncle beckoned me over to him.

"Jethro tells me you have been out running?"

"So?" I responded with contempt.

"I'm impressed. I didn't think you had the motivation in you."

Surely he wasn't giving me a half-hearted compliment.

"So join in with the boys in their warm up and stretching routines, and then we will give you the fitness test."

"Join in with the boys?" I queried.

"Are you deaf?" was his blunt response.

The boys were lining up at the far end of the court so I scurried off to join them, least I suffer more ridicule from my uncle. I had no sooner got there and they all took off in a sprint to the centre line, leaving me behind.

"Keep up, Jen!" Uncle Jimmy's voice thundered out.

I swore under my breath as I headed off after the boys. By the time I got to the centre line they had already returned to the end line. I felt a total idiot as they watched me run back towards them, my boobs bouncing up and down. At least the next time they sprinted off I was a little more prepared so didn't trail them back by quite so much. After repeating this half a dozen times I was exhausted.

Uncle Jimmy then asked his oldest boy, Stan, to run everyone through some other warm up exercises. I noticed Stan glance over at me, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was up to no good.

"Let's do some jogging on the spot," he grinned, and I saw him wink at a couple of the boys in the team.

As soon as I started jogging up and down I realised what Stan was up to. My titties were bouncing up and down furiously and the boys were enjoying the show. Stan's next trick was then to have everyone doing star jumps, which was just as bad for me. I couldn't help blushing.

"Right, you lot. Stop perving at our trainee cheerleader," Uncle Jimmy yelled from across the stadium. "Get on with your defence skills."

"Damn, cousin. What a shame," Stan sneered. "I was just going to do some exercises that would show off that sweet little arse of yours."

"Why don't you and your equally retarded brother go and wrassle some gators. With a bit of luck you will both get eaten," I bit back.

"You'll keep," he shot back.

I had slumped forward, hands on knees, chest heaving in an effort to suck in much needed oxygen.

"You, over here, Jen. You have a fitness test to complete."

Still slouched forward with hands on my knees, I slowly lifted my head. "You are kidding me, right?" I said disbelievingly.

"Get your fancy little pants over here. Didn't I tell you we were going to be doing a fitness test?" There was sarcasm in his tone.

"What have I just been doing? Was that not a fitness test?" I tried to return the sarcastic tone.

"That my charming little niece is what we call a warm up. We wouldn't want you to strain a muscle in one of those pretty legs of yours. Then I would have to massage you with these cold, rough hands of mine. No fun at all. Well, not for you."

'What a total jerk' I thought.

Sonja however, thought he was funny and giggled. I had not seen her emerge from the changing rooms. She was still holding the key to the women's locker room in her hand. She made a big act of handing it over to him, being sure that I noticed.

"Thank you for the key, Mr Stovac," she purred. "I am sure you give a really good massage."

"Oh, I do Sonja," he winked.

I just about threw up. She deserved a creep like my Uncle Jimmy.

He turned his attention back to me. "Right, Jen. So now that you are all warmed up you are ready for the fitness test."

All I could do was shake my head from side to side.

"Watch carefully, cause I don't want you to mess it up. This is a fitness routine I have seen the cheerleader's squad doing. Not that I was watching those cute little lasses jumping around. I wouldn't do anything like that, would I Sonja?" He actually winked at her again.

"Of course not, Mr Stovac. Not a gentleman like you," Sonja pouted.

'I am going to vomit,' I thought. 'I cannot believe what I am hearing'.

"Right. Are you watching, Jen? I will get Sonja to demonstrate nice and slowly cause we don't wanna see you get lost."

"Whatever," I responded.

"Are you watching, or content to be brat?" he persisted.

"I'm watching! I'm bloody watching," I screeched. "Can't you just get on with it?"

Uncle Jimmy glanced over at Sonja with one of his infuriating lopsided grins. "Very touchy, isn't she?"

Naturally Sonja nodded her agreement.

"Right, now that we have established Miss Touchy is watching, let's get the demonstration underway."

Uncle Jimmy beckoned Sonja to come closer and stand beside him. "You are too cute. I hope you don't mind me saying that?"

Sonja at least had the good grace to blush slightly. "Thank you, Mr Stovac."

"Okay. Here we go. One, squat down and place your hands on the floor. Two, push your legs out behind you. Three, do a push up. Four, pull yourself back to a squat and five, stand up."

Sonja faithfully followed his commands, and then repeated the exercise effortlessly several more times, her back perfectly straight the whole time. What a bloody show-off.

"Your turn now Jen," spoke Uncle Jimmy.

"How many?" I asked, hoping to hear a very low figure.

"Until you drop and can't do any more."

"What?" I screeched.

"Go, you bloody moaning little hussy," he yelled so angrily that I jumped in surprise.

Deciding it was best to get it over with I launched into the squat.

"And count out loud when you have completed each one," Uncle Jimmy bellowed.

It was totally demeaning to be watched while going through the exercise routine, and having to count each one like a child. After the first few I rapidly began to tire and my body began to buckle."

"Keep your arms and back straight," Sonja chirped.

"I am trying, you dumbass," I retorted, while gasping for breath.

After seventeen I collapsed on the floor, my muscles screaming and my heart pounding frantically. Uncle Jimmy and Sonja just stared down at me, totally unimpressed at my effort.

"Pathetic," Uncle Jimmy finally spoke. "From now on I expect you to improve your target at every practice. If you don't I will think up a suitable punishment for your lack of effort and commitment. Now get on with learning your cheerleader routine. Sonja hasn't got all night to waste on you."

He walked off. I groaned from my prone position on the floor.

Somehow I managed to drag myself up from the floor and tried to show enthusiasm for the cheerleader routines Sonja was trying to drum into me. Cyndi Lauper's lyrics were bursting from the ghetto blaster. Even though I hated every second of it, pride kept driving me on. I had always succeeded at everything I had done, and I didn't want to admit defeat, no matter how bad I was. The look in Sonja's eyes every time I fluffed a move made it abundantly clear she felt I was next to hopeless. I could have done with some positive encouragement, but Sonja was not about to dish any out. She seemed intent on making things as tough for me as she could.

The next day I looked for my boyfriend, Bobby, between classes at college but I could not find him and got the distinct impression he was avoiding me. I knew he was angry and hurt when he found out I was going to be a cheerleader. I desperately wanted to apologise to him.

After dinner I phoned his mobile several times and finally he answered. I almost cried with relief when I heard his voice. But he was far from happy. Desperately I tried to explain again why I was travelling away with the basketball team and being their cheerleader.

"You have to understand, Bobby," I pleaded. "I have no choice. My own parents even insist I have to go through with it because I was stupid enough to take the bet with Uncle Jimmy, and even worse I bet that my own brother's team would lose."

Bobby remained silent.

"Bobby, please," I again pleaded desperately.

"You only want to flaunt your body in front of all those boys. I heard how you wore a cheerleader's outfit that was positively indecent. It hardly hid your fanny."

"Bobby. I had to wear that outfit. I had no choice. And believe me I cannot think of anything worse than parading myself in front of those boys in the team. You are the one for me."

There was a long silence.

"Prove it," Bobby finally responded in a whisper.

"I will do anything to prove it," I replied confidently.

"What are you wearing?" Bobby still spoke in a whisper.

I thought I had misheard him. "Did you ask me what I am wearing?"

"Yes."

I was bewildered by the question, but responded anyway. "I am wearing jeans and a tee shirt. But why would you want to know that?"

He ignored my question. "Are you in your bedroom?"

"Yes."

"Is your door closed?"

"Yes," I responded tentatively.

"Take off your jeans."

"What?" I was aghast. "Whatever do you mean?" I asked dumbly.

"You have paraded your body in front of a whole stadium of boys. If I am the one for you, then prove it by flaunting yourself for me. You said you would do anything to prove yourself."

I could not believe my loving, gentle boyfriend could even suggest this. "I will do anything, but nothing like this. You need to understand I am painfully shy about my body," I pleaded.

Bobby did not respond. He simply hung up the phone on me. I silently cursed, using words a young lady should not utter, even to herself. My worse cursing was reserved for Uncle Jimmy who was rapidly making my life hell.

I took in several deep breathes to clear my head then phoned Bobby back. His mobile rang for an age before he finally answered, although he said nothing.

"I am taking my jeans off," I spoke nervously into my mobile.

I had to put down my phone, remove my sneakers and socks, before sliding my jeans down my legs and kicking them off. Even though I was in the relative safety of my bedroom I felt vulnerable, as if one of my parents were going to burst into my room and accuse me of behaving like a common tramp. This was the sort of thing girls like Sonja and her cohorts from the cheerleading squad did, not clean living young ladies like myself who were destined for better things.

I picked up the phone, still baffled as to why Bobby wanted me to remove my jeans.

"I have done it." I tried to sound calm.

Bobby then asked me if my laptop was turned on, and I informed him it was.

"Take a photo of yourself standing up, and email it to me. I will ring you back when I have got it," Bobby requested before hanging up.

I felt my heart race. I so wanted to get back in Bobby's good books as I really liked him. Also I knew I had behaved badly so probably this was in a weird way his rightful retribution.

Even though I still had on my tee shirt, bra and knickers I felt so exposed with my bare long legs. Nervously I set my camera on the tripod and took the photo, but I could not bear to look at it. Instead I just emailed it to him before I lost my courage. I then sat on my bed fidgeting, anxious for him to ring me back.

Fortunately I did not have long to wait.

"You look so gorgeous," he panted.

I blushed in embarrassment but was pleased to hear the enthusiasm in his voice. I had felt awkward but I had done it, and it was over.

"Now take off your tee shirt and email me the photo."

"Huh?" I grunted dumbly. "You're kidding, right. I already removed my jeans for you."

There was an awkward silence.

I could hardly believe I was actually doing it, but I slipped my tee shirt over my head, bashfully stood up in just my bra and panties, and took the photo using the remote timer on my camera. This time I sneaked a quick glance at my image as I emailed it to him. I was shocked as I saw myself staring back at me from the photo, clothed only in my underwear. Because of my lack of confidence in my own body, I always thought of myself as an underdeveloped, awkward teenager. Imagine my shock when the image staring back at me revealed a surprisingly curvaceous young lady who, even in my humble opinion, looked rather pretty. Dare I say, even slightly erotic. I giggled at my own wicked thoughts, then silently chastised myself for being so brazen.

"You are so damn cute," was Bobby's response when he opened his email. "You are all forgiven, my darling. I am sorry I was a bit of a jerk, but I was upset."

Relief washed over me. "You weren't a jerk and there is no need to apologise. Thank you for forgiving me."

"Can we do this again?" Bobby asked enthusiastically. "The photo thing?"

"Bobby Simpson. You are a naughty little pervert," I jokingly reprimanded him.

When he hung up I could not believe how flushed I was. I was sitting on the side of my bed dressed only in my blue bra and matching knickers. Thank heavens I was wearing one of my newer, matching underwear sets my wealthy Aunt Meg in New Zealand had sent me for my birthday. My mind was in turmoil. One part of me was disgusted at how 'tarty' I had acted even if it was to save my relationship with my boyfriend. But another, secretive part of me enjoyed being pushed outside of my conservative, safety-first veneer.

I glanced down again at the photo and tried to visualise how Bobby would have viewed me. Was I just cute, or was there something more sexual? Did he lust after me? I stood up and viewed myself in the full length mirror attached to the wardrobe door. It was as if for the first time I was seeing myself as a sexual being.

Yes. I am a virgin. Please don't laugh or ridicule me. I have my life all planned out before me, and jumping into the back seat of some drunken boy's car to have sex that I will regret for the rest of my life is just not on the agenda. I have not even been touched intimately by a male. When a man puts a ring on my finger he can have my body. That is my philosophy.

As I stood in front of the mirror I was staggered to realise I was aroused. Without realising it I had been grinding the top of my thighs together, and now there was a distinctively telltale wet patch on the front of my knickers. My immediate impulse was to quickly get dressed, but I forced myself to stand in front of the mirror. It was embarrassing, but I felt almost naughtier than I ever had before. I imagined how devastated I would feel if either of my parents walked in, or my brother Jethro, and there I was standing in front of the mirror in only my underwear. Would my obvious arousal be evident to them?

I found my mind straying to the past times in my life I had felt humiliated. I recalled how on one occasion I had finished showering, and being sure I was the only one home I had put the towel down the laundry chute, exited the bathroom and began to quickly dash the ten yards along the upstairs hallway to my bedroom. However before I even got half way I realised my brother was bounding up the stairs. I hesitated, trying to decide whether to keep dashing for my bedroom, or turn back. Before I could make any decision Jethro was right in front of me in the hallway. I was shocked. He was shocked. For a moment we were frozen in time. I was so stunned I hadn't even reacted by bringing my hands in front of me to hide my budding breasts or sparse triangle of pubic curls.

Finally my brain sprung back into gear and I spun around and ran back to the safety of the bathroom, no doubt giving Jethro a good view of my buttocks jiggling up and down. When I got to the closed bathroom door I was so panicked I couldn't open it. All I could think of was I was standing there totally naked in full view of my brother. After what seems an excruciating amount of time I realised I was pulling the door to try and open it, when all I needed to do was push it. I just about fell into the bathroom, managing to slam the door behind me. Searching around the room, I realised the only towel in there was the one I had dried myself with and thrown down the laundry chute. I slid down the tiled wall into a crouch, and just sat there listening to the pounding of my heart.