Crimson Reborn Ch. 14

Author's Note: Due to the setting of this chapter, I'd like to reiterate that all characters in this story are above the age of eighteen.

Lucy's heels clacked along the empty hallway. She trailed her fingers over the metal lockers of Pershing High like she had fifteen years ago. Fifteen years before she would become the Crimson Lady. Her picture still hung on the wall in a graduation composite somewhere. Glancing in the empty classrooms, she had to remind herself why the building was so hollow. Her tricks could even fool herself if she didn't focus.

Malcolm crawled behind her on all fours. She didn't tell him to, but he seemed to enjoy it. Malcolm went to his job as the school principal one day to come home and find his son, Nick, balls deep in his wife while his stepdaughter fed Nick her titty milk. The corrupted women pounced on Malcolm, but when Lucy offered to release his soul from the conflict of morality, he refused. Lucy left him to consider the choice for a weekend while she turned her attention elsewhere. When she came back to him, he still held a shred of strange resilience, despite drinking gallons of Aly and Helen's milk while watching his son pump the two harlots full of more cum than Malcolm had made in his whole life. It left him a little insane. Perhaps that's why he enjoyed being submissive, as a way of coping with the tattered remains of his humanity.

"What is soul, Malcolm?" Lucy asked as she stepped into a classroom. "You know it when you see it, I guess. Can you even remember what your job was? Hell, what do you do when you come to work anyway?"

"Mostly masturbate in the car, mistress," he answered, head facing down. "I take Aly's milk. In bottles. I drink it and use it to cover my cock. Nothing changes. No changes for Malcolm. Have to stay good."

Lucy eyed him. "I do admire you, you insane little pervert. To want what I have so much and still try to remain for your students. It's impressive, but as you can see, there aren't very many students left."

"Some," he murmured. "Some you will take. The others...I can't remember the others..."

"No, no one can. Unfinished souls thrown back into the cosmic roulette. Reality abhors a vacuum, after all." She began pushing desks off to the side while Malcolm watched. "As my reality asserts itself, it cannot take unfinished souls. But those unfinished souls can't exist in a void. So reality corrects. Isn't that amazing? All over the world, new people pop into existence and not a soul notices. They believe that person has always existed. Makes you wonder about your whole life, really. Maybe you and I started out somewhere completely different, but a thing like me comes along and causes the whole of existence to make way. It's like Dawn on Buffy."

"I don't understand, mistress," he whimpered.

"Television show. They randomly added a character in one of the later seasons, going on to eventually explain her as being inserted into reality by monks or a god or something. Who knew that of all things would be accurate? Or maybe it isn't. Maybe that's how my own mind conceptualizes what I've done, rewritten backward into my memory so that I don't snap." She turned to look at him, "You should have offered more philosophy classes."

"The state sets the curriculum, mistress."

"Always passing the buck," she said. "How many are left?"

"Eight, only eight," Malcolm answered looking at the room full of desks, books, papers, and chalk. "There were more...but gone. Eight left. Eight, and Malcolm can be free."

"Yeah, bud," Lucy said. "Eight and you can go wild with Aly's milk straight from the tap. You know, without having to be tied down with Alice's spiked heel on your nuts. Somehow I think you might still want that part, too."

"Yes, mistress," he answered.

"This room will do," Lucy said. She snapped her fingers and all but the eight desks she arranged vanished in a puff of crimson glitter. "Been working on that one," she grinned. "Now, let's go back. It's a school night after all."

***

Katherine looked around at the other students. She knew them all, of course, as it was a small school, but she'd never seen them all in one class. Bryson spent his time in study halls, resting up for whatever big game would happen within the week. Nicole and Mason took art electives and rarely mixed with each other let alone the rest of the school. Claire and BreeAnn weren't an unusual addition to one of Katherine's classes, but usually not both at once. Claire wasn't the brightest after all, and BreeAnn was AP track like Dylan, who sat beside her. Most out of place of all was Blake, who started by dragging his desk further from all the others. Katherine didn't even think he was still enrolled.

"Didn't there used to be more of us?" Claire said, as though it were the most profound thought to ever enter her mind.

All the others looked around and shrugged. "What do you mean?" Dylan asked.

"Like, if this is a special health class for the seniors, shouldn't there be more than eight of us?"

Katherine did think the school had a lot of lockers for only eight students. "You're being silly, Claire," she said. "Who else would there be?"

Claire opened her mouth to object, but the thoughts slipped away. Instead, she leaned closer to Katherine, "So what's going on with you and Bryson, anyway? Dating again?"

"No," Katherine hissed. They were all sitting too close together for any real privacy. Bryson even looked over his shoulder. "We're done," she said, in whisper. "I mean, look at him. He's actually wearing that letterman jacket. It's like 90 degrees outside."

"You're wearing your cheerleading outfit, though?" Claire said, the confusion returning to her face.

Katherine blushed. She'd laid out a completely new outfit that morning, but some idea whispered in her head to dress with more school spirit. Looking around at the others, she noticed they'd dressed like characters in an 80's movie.

Claire had on a designer pastel dress that matched her eyes. She wore pearl earrings and a diamond stud around her neck. Everything exuded wealth in a way Katherine couldn't quite explain. Nicole's skirt rode higher than school code allowed, showing off a good bit of her pale flesh contrasted between the black, fishnet stockings and boots. As usual, she'd slathered on the black eyeliner and lipstick to accentuate the black t-shirt with a skull on it that struggled to keep those big knockers in check. BreeAnn wore the school uniform, even though seniors were exempt. Katherine seemed to think the uniform was supposed to be jeans or a jean skirt and the school polo. Instead, BreeAnn had on a knee length plaid skirt with a white, button up blouse. It might have looked sexy on any of the other girls, but BreeAnn's flat chest and narrow hips made her look bookish if not boyish. The knotted up curls and wide rimmed glasses didn't help.

The guys looked a little less like cartoon characters. Bryson did have on his jacket and a pair of overly tight jeans. Mason wore a pair of tight slacks held up with suspenders over a blue, short sleeved button up. Katherine would have considered him cute except for the bow tie and his overt homosexuality. Dylan dressed nicely, if plainly in a checked blue shirt with white pants. He'd always been gangly and awkward, but the outfit showed off his broad if not athletic physique quite well, while contrasting nicely with his dark skin. Blake looked like a drug dealer in his beanie and surplus store clothes, but Katherine figured it was because he was a drug dealer.

"It's a little weird," she murmured.

"What's weird?" Bryson said, finally nosing into their conversation.

"How everyone's dressed," Claire answered, blabbing as usual.

Bryson looked down at his clothes. "Coach told me to wear it. Coach...uh...you know, Coach." He repeated the word until he smiled again.

Dylan didn't let him get out of it, "Coach what, Bryson? Can you remember the name of your football coach? When's the big game you keep talking about?" Bryson scowled and turned back to face the front. "He can't actually remember," Dylan said. "Keeps talking about the big game until I remind him there's no such thing. We all keep forgetting stuff."

"How'dya mean?" BreeAnn asked, scooting her desk closer to the others. "Is it like how I keep forgetting whether or not I'm actually in school? I sat down to do homework the other night. I was positive I had some from history class, but when I looked for my bookbag, I couldn't find it. I couldn't find anything. No history books, no notebooks, no nothing."

"Dylan's not better than me," Bryson said over his shoulder. "He keeps saying he has to graduate and give the valedictorian speech, but can't name the college he's going to."

Dylan looked away sheepishly. "Yeah, he's right. I can almost see it, but then it...it sort of flickers away. And I start thinking about..."

"Licking pussy?" Nicole asked, smacking her gum with no expression. "I'm guessing it would translate to your hetero-normative brain like that. Fuckin' bitches, lickin pussy. That sort of stuff. Cause when my brain flickers, it's about getting railed by the biggest, veiniest dick I can find."

"Shit, Nicole," Mason said. "Nasty girl." He sat up primly and leaned to the front edge of his desk. "So it's been happening to all of us? I was going to be in a play this summer. I'm sure I was. Now I'm not sure summer is ever going to get here or end or...whatever. And when I think about it too hard then, well, you heard Nicole."

They all murmured agreement to the idea while Katherine tried to picture her own future plans. They were right. She couldn't think of any. Nor could she remember how she got to where she was. She knew she had a whole history behind her of classes, friends, teachers, and cheerleading, but when she tried to pull out a memory, she instead wound up thinking about the day she and Bryson went under the bleachers after his practice. He'd been sweaty and gross, but she wanted to do it before someone else did it for him. She remembered the taste of sweat on his cock and the groans he made while pulling her hair. It made her pussy wet to think about it. How hard would the boys get if they knew she was soaking her panties while thinking about blowing a guy — it didn't matter which one, even Mason if he could get it up for a girl.

Their low conversation stopped as the door to the classroom opened. Principal King walked in, smiling and cheerful. Behind him came two twenty-somethings carrying trays. "Good morning, students," Principal King said. "As you can see, we're having a special meeting this morning for the seniors. I've asked an honored guest to come and give you some pointers about health."

"Mr. King, we already took health," Dylan said. "Didn't we?"

"Of course, but this is a special health class. Don't worry, we've got snacks to keep you interested." He nodded at the two people, an attractive couple in white and black waiter's outfits. They removed the metal coverings to show off platters of cakes, cookies, and other treats. Another man walked in, a big brutish fellow who a few of the seniors recognized as Humphrey, the cook at the local bar. He carried four massive pitchers of milk in each hand like a Oktoberfest waitress. He placed them down on the table and shuffled out. The two younger people followed, snickering to themselves. "Ah, and now, allow me to present your instructor for the day. Mistre—uh, Miss Lucy."

A woman walked in wearing a flowing red dress that swished with her steps. Every boy and most of the girls suddenly shifted with rapt attention as they watched the biggest, most luscious pair of breasts they'd ever seen sway as the woman moved. The rest of the class remained preoccupied with how, even in the loose fitted dress, they could easily see the shape of her ass and hips. She moved behind the desk, clasping her hands together as she surveyed the milk and treats. "Excellent, thank you, Malcolm. Now then, are you all sitting comfortably? Let's begin."

***

Lucy smiled every time she handed one of the class a glass of milk. BreeAnn took hers with a quiet thank you. It made the mousy girl feel funny to look at someone so casually beautiful, but BreeAnn could barely look away. It wasn't only the woman's breasts or ass or lips — all of which demanded attention in a way BreeAnn didn't precisely understand — but her whole being seemed to radiate a warmth that held anyone's attention. BreeAnn certainly saw all the boys devouring the woman with their eyes. Even the weird kid, Blake. They looked at Lucy in the way BreeAnn always wanted them to look at her. If only she had big fat tits and a plump soft ass, they probably would.

"Now then, you all have a nice glass of milk," Lucy said. "When you get a question right, you can have any one of the treats up here to go with it. These have all been baked specially for you with only the best ingredients. The milk, too, is from a local dairy so be sure to drink up and enjoy. Today, we're going to talk about sex."

The boys snickered, but BreeAnn blushed, too. Pershing High didn't normally talk about sex. Sure, the health course she was obligated to take mentioned childbirth and menstruation and other things, but no one dared talk about actually fucking. They even passed around a promise oath form one day. BreeAnn signed it, she thought. She couldn't remember why. Nervous, she sipped the milk. Cold, sweet, and unlike anything she'd ever tasted, it rolled over her tongue and caused small flutters when it reached her stomach.

"Settle down, everyone. Sex is a natural part of life, not something to be whispered about in dirty jokes. It's something to be celebrated, a wonderful, fulfilling part of being human...or thereabouts. Let's start with the absolute basics. What are these?"

Jaws dropped around the room. Lucy pulled down her dress, letting the biggest breasts any of them had ever seen spill into view. The giggling stopped as the impact of the moment landed on them. This seems strange, BreeAnn thought. Isn't it strange? A teacher having her breasts out for the class to look at? Such beautifully shaped, pale breasts with puffed nipples which look a little wet.

Dylan gave her thoughts voice, "Uh, Lucy? You said to call you that?" The woman nodded, continuing to wriggled the dress down to her hips. "Well, Lucy, is it appropriate for you to take off your dress in front of us?"

"Of course, how else can I properly instruct you?" Lucy's hands came up and hefted her breasts up as she turned to the side. "Now, these are one of the major sexual features. What do we call them? Yes, in the white shirt. What's your name?"

BreeAnn realized her hand had raised. She pulled it down meekly as the others turned to look at her. "BreeAnn, ma'am."

"Alright, BreeAnn, what are these called?" Lucy squeezed her breasts, lightly rubbing the nipples with her fingertips.

"Breasts."

"Very good. Come get a treat." Mortified to have drawn attention to herself, she slinked up to the table, keeping her eyes on the mountains of flesh. She grabbed a cookie as Lucy squeezed a small drop of milk out of her nipple. Only BreeAnn saw it. Lucy winked at her, and she scuttled back to her desk. "Now, breasts are a good start, but it's a little clinical. What else do we call these? You, front row. Bryson? What would you call these big, luscious..."

Bryson's cheeks turned violent red. "Tits!"

"Correct! Here, have a cupcake."

***

Bryson took the cake, chomping off a huge bite while trying not to look directly at Lucy. The food tasted amazing. Amazing enough to actually keep his attention. He followed the first bite with another and another, swallowing the whole treat in only a few seconds. It cloyed in his throat, motivating him to drink down half the glass of milk. As he did, he imagined draining it out of the gorgeous woman's tits. Tits. She let me call them tits.

"Other words for breasts? Boobs. Jugs, sometimes. On very big women or women giving milk, you might call them udders or teats or dugs. Some girls have big ones. Some girls have small. Some have big round nipples that barely stick out all. Other women have long, thick nipples which beg to be sucked on. Looks like we have a variety of tits in the room today. Some nice round ones. A pair of big fat titties. And some A's which probably still have room to grow."

Holy. Fucking. Shit. This lady is calling out these girls. Nicole does have big fat titties though. Not as big as Lucy's, but still. I wouldn't give up the chance to stick my dick between them. God that fucking cupcake was good. He no longer bothered to look discrete while staring at his temporary teacher's chest.

"Girls, would you like to show us your tits?"

The four girls exchanged nervous looks, but BreeAnn immediately took off her shirt. The guys gawked at her as she took off a small, plain bra, dropping it on the floor beside her desk. She crossed her hands on the desktop as if she'd just done the most normal thing ever. Bryson looked at the small mounds on her chest, wondering how come he'd never really paid attention to her before. Tits are tits. I bet she'd have appreciated the attention more. They look fun to play with.

"No worries, when you feel comfortable, you can join BreeAnn and myself. I can say that it feels freeing, doesn't it BreeAnn?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now, the breasts aren't only a sexual feature, they have a very practical purpose which I mentioned earlier. Who remembers what I said? What do breasts do other than give us something fun to play with while fucking?"

The word "fucking" jarred in Bryson's head. Are teachers supposed to curse? I don't think I've ever heard one say 'fucking' before. God I'd love to fuck Ms. Lucy. Or BreeAnn. Or anything. My cock is fucking stiff as a rock. Wait. "Milk!" he blurted out. "Titties give us milk."

"Very good, Bryson. You get another cupcake." Lucy leaned forward across the desk, letting her wonderful tits swing out from her body, hanging perfectly before the front row like a pair of fat, milky udders. Bryson took the cupcake and shoveled it into his mouth, feeling his cock throb in time with his chewing. He drained the rest of his milk and held out the glass for more. Lucy obliged him with a long, slow pour while everyone else watched in a half stupor.

"We get delicious, creamy, wonderful milk from tits. Sometimes, women who have particularly milky breasts will lactate as a form of sexual expression. So their partners can drain their titties while they fuck like rutting animals. Doesn't that sound fun? But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Anyone else need a refill?"

***

Claire sipped the milk. Lucy's breasts swung with the slightest movement, giving Claire tingles in her core. She always liked looking at other girls, but she found the magnificent breasts distracting at the moment. What she really wanted to look at was the rest of Lucy's trim body. BreeAnn had taken off her shirt and shown her scrawny little frame. Claire knew what Katherine looked like under her uniform, too, having seen her change a few times. The cheerleader had a flat, athletic tummy and toned hips. The only girl who really resembled Claire was Nicole, but that wacko goth enjoyed a pleasant smoothness to her curves which Claire lacked. Nicole didn't struggle to dress like Claire did. No matter how much she spent on clothes, Claire always found they stuck to the bits of her she never wanted anyone to see. Lucy certainly didn't have that problem. The woman poured out of the dress inch by inch. Claire didn't think anyone else noticed it rolling down her side little by little, showing off more of the impossible body, more of the wide hips, and more of the thick backside.