Bully

Heads-up: it's Smokey BDSM time again. Clearly, you've clicked to read, and so—fair warning: this is intense. You've seen a number of elements like this in earlier stories of mine. But as always, the core story and plot are unique. Some of you will love it, some will not. And in both camps, you know who you are. Either way, this story is dedicated to anyone who's ever been bullied.

ADDITIONAL CATEGORIES: Fetish, First Time, Lesbian, NonConsent/Reluctance, Toys/Masturbation

*****

Harassment Something To Me

Thursday, November 7th, 2013, 3:17 p.m.

Autumn was two months into reverse-bloom. Also in swing was the new year at Juniper High. Proud Mom and community leader Lorraine Knowles multitasked at home, watching TV and networking online. It was about time for her daughter Regan to get home from school. Her husband, Regan's father Stephen, was away on business until the following week. It was a brisk 53° outside, and the 16½-year-old Regan was indeed en route back. She'd recently acquired her driver's license, she did well academically, and the rebelliousness of her adolescence reached to a short degree. She respected her folks and teachers, treated her peers as she wished to be treated, and was a fine girl on the whole. In fact, all but ideal. A model kiddo. Lorraine couldn't ask for a more fantastic daughter.

Regan pulled up mere seconds later. Quite frankly, she hoped her mother was not home. But she saw Lorraine's own car in the driveway. Sigh. She knew it was a bit much to ask. She parked, wondering how to go about this. She could've stopped elsewhere first, but that would only delay the inevitable. She tossed her backpack over her shoulders, approached and peered to the window.

Yep, there she was. And Regan knew her sunglasses wouldn't help. They couldn't hide something like this. Regan just didn't want her Mom to know. It would lead to more of a situation than she felt like dealing with right now. But she couldn't just stand out here the whole rest of the day either. She reluctantly slid her key in the lock, placed a paw over the side of her face, and stepped inside.

"Hey sweetie, how was school."

The pleasantry ended with a period, not a question mark, signifying mere rhetoric. Out came her key, slam went the door, and Regan promptly picked up her pace. Her hand stayed discreetly where she'd put it as she hastened by. "Hi Mom."

Lorraine watched her cross quickly through the living room. Regan got about two thirds of the way before Lorraine halted her.

"Uh, hold it."

Regan stopped moving, but didn't turn around. Her mother heard her emit a sigh.

"Back up, young lady. This way, please."

Regan did as told, keeping her face concealed. But of course she knew exactly what her Mom would say next.

"Hand down."

Regan obeyed, revealing a black eye and a concrete-scraped cheek.

Gasp. "Oh, Regan!" Lorraine exclaimed. "Oh honey! Not again!"

Her daughter omitted the plain "Yes, again." She hated this part. Indeed, it was not the first time she'd been beaten up at school, nor the first time at the hands of the same girl. Regan had a bully she only knew was named Mikayla. On other occasions Mikayla'd sent Regan on her way with a bloody nose, a busted lip, and/or spit in her hair. And Regan'd have to go home to show her folks. She hated this part so much firstly because it displeased them, but moreover because it never accomplished, changed or fixed a thing.

"God..." Lorraine groaned. "That Mikayla girl again?"

"She's the only one who beats me up, Mom. And apparently thinks I'm gay. She keeps calling me a dyke, and a girl-...'f.'"

"Well isn't that nice. It's Mikayla what now again?"

Sigh. "I told you, Mom, I dunno her last name. We're not in the same grade. I'm a junior, she's a senior. And not for the first time. She was supposed to be gone by now, but she flunked."

Mikayla Shithead, probably, thought Lorraine. "Well, Regan, honey, she's just angry and jealous of you. You're a great student."

Regan rolled her eyes, feeling the pain in the blackened right one. "Yeah, Mom...knowing what her problem is is not the problem. I'm sure it's all the typical bully clichés. But that doesn't help me much at school, now does it."

Another rhetorical statement, punctuated with a period and some attitude Regan regretted. But Lorraine understood.

"I know, hon. Look...why don't you go wash your face, put some antiseptic on it, and...

"Well, I won't force this, 'cause I don't wanna treat you like a little girl...but if you want, we can have some cookies and ice cream."

*****

Mikayla: A 4-1-1

fall 2011 and forward

Regan Knowles was enrolled and began attending Juniper High School in August of 2011, the same year Mikayla became a junior. For the first few months, nothing happened between them. They were two years apart, and neither knew the other existed. Then a buzz began to spread about the studious new kid who got great grades and wore glasses when she read. Regan wasn't exactly a teacher's pet, but had always been a good girl who played by the rules. While this sat okay with most classmates, not all of them left well enough alone. Some teased her. Some mocked her. Regan's feelings were a bit wounded, but it wasn't the first time she'd been jeered in school, and kids tended to behave this way. It wasn't in her nature to do so. So she was different. Oh well.

Around February of '12, Regan's rep as a goody two-shoes reached beyond the freshman class. And soon enough to the attention of one Mikayla Jae Wagner. Mikayla was a tall, slim but strong girl, who elected not to hang with those physically beneath her—i.e., shorter and weaker. She disliked intellectual strength in peers, and wasn't crazy about those who excelled scholastically either. Mikayla'd been given brawn, but fell short when it came to brains. And when this became apparent, it made her angry. Her fortes were lesser in school than those of bright, diligent kids. Mikayla didn't like that. She didn't care one bit to be bested and one-upped by those she deemed "scrawny nerds." Her philosophy was more along the lines of "the bigger the better, the smaller whatever."

And so catching wind of this smart freshman kid, Mikayla took an instant disliking to her. It turned out Mikayla was an angrier young woman than she herself knew. She was tall and strong, but not extremely smart or model-gorgeous. Boys didn't take to her, but she neither cared about them. And if she couldn't be sharp or hot, she wanted to be intimidating. And if she couldn't intimidate others so much as she wished, insecurity set in. She did fit traits of the archetypal bully: she was self-conscious, and refused to let that self-consciousness surface. And so she maintained control by pushing around those smaller than she. Only figuratively at first.

Beginning in the spring of 2012, Mikayla took it upon herself to torment and pick on Regan. Her shenanigans began—compared to the present day—relatively mild, and as well in the spirit of a secret..."admirer." She left smeared peanut butter and stale bologna in Regan's locker. She placed chewed gum and tacks in the seat Regan chose in the cafeteria. And indeed, to Regan's complete obliviousness, Mikayla began spreading a rumor that she was in fact queer.

The worst thing Regan had done to her the first year by this unknown bully (or bullies) happened after a phys ed class, while Regan was showering. Her locker was broken into and her clothes stolen, leaving her reluctant to take any more showers. Naturally and indignantly curious who was doing these things to her, Regan got her answer the next year, after summer vacation.

As Regan took on sophomore year and Mikayla became a senior, the latter made her harassing presence known. She cornered Regan with her cronies throughout the '12-'13 year, carrying on her troublesome ways. She smacked Regan's books and papers out of her hands as they traversed the halls. She pantsed her. She shoved her against the lockers. She and the accomplices played keep-away with Regan's belongings. Or trapped her in the girls' room, took one said belonging, dunked it in the toilet and returned it. Mikayla logically refused to explain who she was, or why she'd singled Regan out as a target. Later the same year, something nice and also frightening happened to Regan. She'd been chatting up a girl called Betheny in one of her classes, with whom she struck a friendship. Betheny invited Regan over to her house. She lived on one end of Johnston Farm Drive in Andrewsville County. On the other end of the same street lived someone else by now familiar to Regan, going by with her cronies. On this day she greeted her as follows.

"Hey, dyke! Fuckin' skank dyke! Girl-faggot queer-ass dyke! That your girlfriend, dyke?!"

She punctuated by spitting at her, and they were on their way. Regan and Betheny only walked on, until out of one another's earshot.

Scoff. "What is that bitch's problem??" Regan demanded.

"'S Mikayla," Betheny told her.

"You know her?"

"Well, I just know her first name. She's a real asshole, but not to everybody. Mostly just to people who get good grades."

"Oh, great!" Regan threw her hands in the air. "So if I want her to leave me alone, my choices are, flunk on purpose, or push her in front of the bus!... And what makes her think I'm...y'know, queer? I'm pretty sure I'm not queer. But even if I was, so what?"

"Dunno," Betheny shrugged. "Maybe she just hates queers. Real mature for a senior."

"She's a senior? Oh. Well...that's good anyway. Next year she'll be gone and I'll be free of her...'assholishness.'"

Or so she thought. Unfortunately, both Regan and Mikayla would come to regret this assumption. As Regan passed sophomore year with proverbial flying colors, Mikayla proceeded to fail senior year. And to her own chagrin, and Regan's utter consternation...come August '13, back into Juniper High slithered a secretly abashed, but ever angrier, vengeance-vowing Mikayla Wagner.

Her previous year's cronies had graduated, and it wasn't as easy on her own. Especially as new seniors who were no longer intimidated taunted Mikayla: "Oh, what're ya doin' back?? Forget somethin'?" Imaginably feeling nastier than ever, Mikayla now abhorred the well-performing students with white-hot hatred. And with one innocent target on her metaphorical "shit list," she set about to be the ultimate thorn in the side of poor Regan Knowles.

Caring less and less what ramifications might threaten, she held nothing back. When not figuratively doing so, she literally shoved Regan about. She punched her, tripped her, shoulder-checked her, kicked her legs from under her. She threw eggs at her. She shook up containers of soda or sour milk and let them loose on her. She stuck her gum in Regan's hair. She snatched her backpack, unzipped it, and flung it down the hall. Or more innovatively, held it above Regan, emptied it and brought it down to encase Regan's head. She waited for Regan to come outside after school and impeded to attack her. Or attack her car. The ante just kept being upped. When she didn't get in trouble one day, Mikayla poured it on and treated Regan more ruthlessly the next.

It bore repeating through all this that Regan never summoned the guts and gumption to report her to Principal Garver. On one level, she questioned how much he could or would do. And whether anything done could be a year-term solution. In addition, conveniently the harassment was witnessed only by classmates. Even left with bruises and stains, it was her word against Mikayla's. Finally, she was too terrified. If she told Mr. Garver, and someone ratted her out as a snitch...there was no telling what could befall her. She was already coming home with black eyes and bloody noses. She didn't know how much worse it could get, but didn't want to find out.

Which brought her back to today. She was afraid to let the admins know, but couldn't hide it from her folks. Which was almost as bad in a way. She'd rather they cared than not, but it felt as if even when she wasn't around, Mikayla humiliated her still. While grateful for the sympathy, having to go home and (figuratively (most of the time)) cry to Mommy and Daddy made her feel even smaller. She wanted to feel more grown-up, not less. She was becoming a woman. She couldn't just go through life being scared. She wished she were tougher, able to stand up to Mikayla. But such was the frustrating nature of bullies. The girl was bigger, stronger, and meaner. While she was too scared to confront or attack Mikayla in person...oh, was it ever sweet to imagine.

Regan was not a violent girl. And yet, Mikayla's never-provoked assaults brought out her fiery side. On this November Thursday, after her Mom let her go to her room, she left her books and homework untouched for a while. She clutched an unfortunate but inanimate pillow, and let it take the brunt of her rage, as she recalled one particular encounter with her bully outside of school.

One day after she'd begun hanging with Betheny—but before getting her driver's license—she thought she'd walk over to Betheny's house and see if she was home. It was close enough to her own home to stroll there and back. And she knew Mikayla lived nearby too, but...well, she just hoped she wouldn't have to run into her. She should be able to walk down her friend's street, to ends or not, without an issue. However, her hope was in vain. Betheny was not home, and neither were her folks. Regan was a bit bummed about this, but not nearly as much as on the return trip. In the other direction, sauntering back Regan's way...there she was.

"Hey, girl-fag dyke!" shouted Mikayla, nicely surprised to see her today.

Oh, fuck me.

The street, though secluded and never busy, was without sidewalks. Regan occupied the right side. Mikayla assumed her left—Regan's right—so they were walking directly towards each other.

"Get the fuck outta my way, dykewad," Mikayla shouted.

What exactly was it that made Mikayla call her a dyke anyway? Was it like picking on boys by calling them "fag" even if it had nothing to do with being gay? Did "dyke" work the same way? Did...oh, who cared. She could've run the other way, but Mikayla'd easily outrun and catch her. Besides, Regan couldn't stomach giving her the satisfaction. She moved to her left side of the street.

Mikayla moved to her right, so they were again facing each other.

"I told ya get outta my way, queer-ass cunt!"

So this was her game. Regan felt pretty compelled to "play along" another round, though they were getting close. She moved back over. Predictably, so did Mikayla.

"'The fuck's the matter with ya, fuckin' pussy-ass dyke?! I said get outta my way!"

Oooh, did Regan's angry side long to haul off and deck her. And to see where it led. But...but...she just couldn't. She moved one more time, and so did Mikayla...as they stopped, five feet from each other. Mikayla leered with piercing eyes, flashing an evil grin. Regan cautiously wandered by. They maintained steady, unblinking eye contact as she passed. To her relief, Mikayla let her go unharmed.

"Hm!" Regan heard her chuckle, knowing that even if not beating her up, Mikayla kept the girl in fear of her. She'd managed not to get her ass kicked that day, but this didn't make the meeting any more fun. It felt still as if Mikayla'd "won," getting away once more with tormenting her and calling her crude names. Oh well, she tried to tell herself, remembering she was safely back in her room.

Let's get some homework done, that'll take my mind off it.

And...yeah, come to think of it, Mom, I would kinda like some cookies and ice cream.

*****

Media Uncoverage

Thursday, November 7th, 2013, 8:32 p.m.

"Regan? C'mere a sec."

Bowl in hand, Regan took another dip of ice cream with her cookie and another yummy bite of each, scooting over beside her Mom.

"Yuhrrf? Wuhhff ub?"

Regan's food-nestled belly turned as she registered the image her Mom had brought to the laptop screen.

"Is that Mikayla?"

Her daughter swallowed. "...Yeah."

"A-ha," Lorraine nodded. "...Mikayla, Wagner."

Regan scooted back away.

"Yippee. Now I know her last name."

"You'll have to forgive a nosy Mom's curiosity, sweetie."

Regan went on watching TV and finished her dessert. Unbeknownst to her, curious Mom did some surreptitious, incognito detective work on the notorious Mikayla. Once confirmed, Lorraine dug up her dirt. She checked out Mikayla's social media, finding out the girl was going on 19 in a few more months, had dark green eyes, stringy brunette hair, was also an only child, sported a number of tattoos and piercings, and quite a few other things. From here it was a hop, skip and a jump to her few other digital stops, and...

...All right, I believe my curiosity's been satisfied, thank you.

*****

Cheese, Sleaze

Friday, November 8th, 2013, 9:25 a.m.

Lorraine Knowles was a well-known and respected community leader throughout Andrewsville and Tudorville County. Her husband Stephen went off semi-often on business, like this week. Regan was their only kid, a teenager, but not a load of trouble to support. Looking after their home took up a good chunk of Lorraine's time and energy. And so what was left was spent on her community and volunteer work. She socialized, schmoozed, and organized events for other community members to do the same. And while she didn't care to (ab)use her stature for ulterior or underhanded purposes...she loved her daughter more than anything in the world. They spent lots of time together, just the two of them, and felt like more than Mom and daughter. They were almost like best friends.

Cut back to Juniper High, where per the norm, Mikayla proceeded to pour it on and make Regan's academic life a living hell. Lately she'd been really socking it to her on Fridays, providing her with enough mistreatment to last the weekend. She kicked today off by silently stalking Regan into the girls' lavatory, slipping into the adjacent stall, waiting till just the right moment...climbing atop her toilet with her iPhone at the ready...and snapping a rapid photo of Regan sitting on hers. She menacingly remarked to Regan that this would look fucking dynamite online. She then jumped down and departed the bathroom laughing.

Regan couldn't believe it. Two hours into school, and her entire day already felt ruined. How humiliating!... And what a bitch! She couldn't help but wonder what she'd done to deserve all this...but also didn't think she could take it anymore. As a high schooler, she really wasn't supposed to do this...but she waited just till the next periods began, exited the restroom herself, skulked to one of the doors, snuck outside and ditched class. She'd never do this under "normal" circumstances, but she was just too upset to learn. She felt like a baby and a tattletale, but simply had to hear her Mom's voice to ease her mind. She called and told her what had happened.

"...Regan, are you serious?" Lorraine gravely asked her.

"Mom, I wouldn't call you and make this up!" insisted Regan, narrowly keeping in mind to omit the cutting class part.