Secret Masochist - Game Club Ch. 01

(Author's Note: This chapter takes place immediately following Secret Masochist - Prologue. It is an alternate path RC can follow on her journey of self-discovery.)

(All characters in this story are eighteen years of age, or older)

Chapter 1

Keeping a promise

A text from George sat at the top of your notifications.

George: You ran off! I thought you were coming with me to game club? :'(

Ffuuuuuuck.

George had been inviting you to come to his after school gamer club all year. Recently his invitations had taken on a rather desperate tone. Last week you broke down and solemnly swore that, this Friday, you would really, actually, finally go to his club with him.

You just really, really, really didn't want to.

It wasn't because you didn't like games. Far from it. Gaming was one of your favorite time-wasters, right up there with sex and trashy horror movies.

You just didn't like to hang with gamers.

Especially the gamers at your school.

Most of them were harmless, like George, but there were some real neckbeards in that club. Like, the kind that hung out on toxic internet forums. The kind that only left their bedroom to go to school. The kind that treated girls like they were a different species.

Plus, Lincoln was in the club.

Ugh.

A promise was a promise, though, and the thought of ghosting on poor George didn't sit well. He didn't have a lot of friends, and you know how much he'd been looking forward to this.

Mostly because he wouldn't stop yammering about it.

You meet up with him as he's en route to the club room. His face lights up when he sees you.

"RC! You're coming!"

You give him a cocky smile. "Of course. I gotta show those nerds how it's done, right?"

George chatters away as you walk, explaining the nuances of the gamer club. Fridays were special, because the only games allowed were head-to-head matches. Didn't matter which game or who was playing; Fridays were all about proving digital dominance. Marquee matches between top players would often involve the spectators placing oddball bets and creating a ruckus of trash talk.

Honestly, you had been hoping to just chill out and mess around with some of the retro consoles they had. The prospect of watching these guys face off in oh-so-serious competition was less than thrilling. Even worse was the idea of playing one of them yourself. Not that you doubted your abilities, you just knew guys like these could get weird about losing to a girl.

George leads you down a series of increasingly empty hallways. You thought you knew the layout of your school pretty well, but you can't remember ever being back in this particular corner. The two of you finally reach your destination, a door with an old piece of notepaper taped on it. "GAMER CLUB - NO CHADS" was scrawled on it in thick sharpie.

No Chads? What the fuck?

The hallway had an odd smell. Old water stains marked the linoleum and one of the florescent lights needed replacing. George looks up at you. "Here we are. You ready for this?"

"I'm always ready, GG." You try to sound confident, but this hallway was giving you a bad vibe. "So why are we just standing here?"

Without waiting for his response, you push the door open and enter the club room, George following close behind. The room is in only slightly better shape than the hallway. Old folding chairs and tables are scattered around, most of them containing at least one TV and game console. The light is dim, the floor looks like it hasn't been cleaned since before you were born, and somehow that odd smell is even worse.

There are about a dozen boys in the room, gathered around a single TV where two of them are playing a fighting game. Some of the spectators look up as you enter, their expressions making it clear they were not expecting a new person today. Especially one like you.

"Hey guys!" George waves. "This is my friend RC I was telling you about! She's super cool and plays games, but she's not like one of those fake gamer girls."

The boys look at you, clearly not believing George. You feel their gaze on you, judging you. A voice in your head tells you to turn around and walk out, that these guys aren't worth your time. You almost consider listening to it, George's hurt feelings be damned, when you hear the door open behind you.

"Oh great. What's she doing here?"

Lincoln's sardonic voice makes you grimace. You spin around to give him a piece of your mind. He sees the look on your face, and before you can say anything he raises his hands defensively. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I get your pronoun wrong?"

You hear the boys laughing behind you. Your cheeks get hot, and your temper gets the better of you. George starts to squeak out a protest, but you cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"I'm here to get my game on, Lincoln. There a problem with that?" You glare up at his pale freckled face. "Sign on the door says no Chads, not no chicks. So are you gonna let me play?" You turn to address the rest of the boys. "Or are y'all too scared to lose to a girl?"

You see the match everyone had been watching was over. The boys are all staring at you now, jaws hanging slack. The only exception was one of the players of the fighting game. He just stared at you passively, lips pressed thin. Something about him made you feel uneasy. Maybe it was the scantily-clad anime girl on his shirt. Maybe it was the way the sweat shone on his pimpled face. Maybe it was that flat, dead look in his eyes.

Lincoln's voice snaps you out of your trance. "Alright then, gamers. Looks like we have a new challenger." The boys grumble, but don't protest. "Newbies need to prove themselves before they can be part of the club, so who's gonna go first? Who wants a piece of the girl?"

George steps next to you and speaks low. "This is bullshit. There's no rule about newbies. You don't have to play if you don't want."

One of the gamers, a short blonde guy in a Pokemon hoodie, raises his hand. "I'll take her. I think George is full of shit. She definitely looks like a fake gamer girl to me."

Your temper flares even higher, George's words boiling away like steam. Nothing at all about this situation makes you comfortable, but you can't let these arrogant dorks talk shit about you and get away with it.

Can you?

"So what are we playing?" You look at Lincoln, wishing you could whack that smug grin right off his face. "How does a newbie prove themselves?"

Lincoln gives your challenger a nod. "Jake's pick. Our turf, our rules."

You roll your eyes and look back at Jake. He's smiling wide, showing off his parents' lack of orthodontic budget. "Smash Bros. No items, three stock." The rest of the boys laugh, clearly excited to see their champion show the new girl who's boss.

Why, thank you, Jake.

You couldn't have asked for a better platform to prove yourself on. Smash Bros is one of your favorite games, and the only fighting game you consider yourself any good at. Well, better than good. You consistently whoop your friends and online randos. This will be a cakewalk.

You grab a chair near the Nintendo as Jake boots up the game. He hands you a controller and gives you a condescending look. "You do know how to use one of these, right?"

"Oh yeah, of course. I press this button to kick your ass, right?"

George laughs. He's the only one. Jake starts setting up the game mode. "Now, three stock means it's first to three knockouts. And no items means no random bullshit, this is pure skill."

"Jee-zuss man, c'mon. I know how to smash, alright?"

One of the boys in the back calls out "Oh I bet you know how to smash!" The room erupts in derisive laughter.

What? That doesn't even make sense. You feel your cheeks start to heat up. Shit, this room is warm.

Before the discomfort becomes a distraction, you take off your sweatshirt. "Oh damn she's serious now!" The same boy gets the same laughter for his non-joke. You do your best to ignore it and focus. You're way more comfortable in your t-shirt, and that's what matters. Let the boys have their fun. You'll show them who's serious soon enough.

Jake nudges you with his elbow. "In this screen you pick your character."

You let out an angry breath through your nose. This punk was starting to get to you, and you were anxious to get to the part where you mopped the floor with him. He had chosen Pikachu as his fighter, a common pick for amateurs and cheap players. You briefly consider going with one of your backups to give the boy a fighting chance, but he had pissed you off too much already.

He was getting the Princess.

Lincoln laughs when you make your selection. "Princess Peach? Are you serious? The girl is gonna play Princess Peach. OK, wow."

The other spectators join in the mockery. George pipes up in your defense but is quickly laughed down. You try to block it all out and focus. They would stop laughing soon enough.

Jake hits Start, and the randomizer picks Kirby's Dreamland as the game map. This just keeps getting better and better. This map was perfect for Peach's playstyle, plus you really dig the music. The in-game announcer counts down from three.

Two.

One.

GO!

And you're off. The room erupts in cheers as your initial lunge is dodged, but you quickly follow up with an aerial attack that lands perfectly. You keep the pressure on, driving up your opponent's percentage meter and making him more and more vulnerable to a knockout. He's having trouble responding, and by the time you land your first knockout blow he had barely touched you.

"One down, two to go Jakey-boy. That all you got?"

He gives you a short chuckle. "We'll see."

His fighter reappears on the map, and he uses his brief period of invincibility to land a few quick blows. The room was starting to get loud. Everyone is cheering for Jake, except George. Your poor friend is desperately trying to give you a morale boost, but his voice just can't keep up with the crowd. Doesn't matter, you don't need a cheerleader. You just need to win.

Jake was starting to fight back more effectively, but you still have an advantage. You keep to the air, smacking him down whenever he tries to jump after you. His percentage meter climbs and climbs, already back into the danger zone. He just can't seem to catch you.

Until he does.

You go for a dash attack to try and set up another knockout blow, but he counters with a grab. He throws you to the ground, gets in a couple of quick hits, then grabs you again. He repeats this a few times, your thumbs madly twitching at the controls, trying to break free of his punishing combo. In moments, your percentage meter has skyrocketed, and he throws you off screen before you can respond.

The room erupts in cheers. You look at Jake out of the corner of your eye. His small smile infuriates you. Okay RC, no more playing nice.

The moment your character reappears, you go for an aggressive attack to take advantage of the invincibility period. He dodges it easily. As soon as you're vulnerable again, he's on you. You manage to land a few more good hits, but you can't keep up. It's like he's predicting your moves before you make them. In the blink of an eye, he's knocked you out again.

The laughter and cheers are now peppered with trash talk.

"Get that bitch, Jake!"

"Did you forget you weren't playing the Sims?"

"Sorry Princess, but your win is in another castle!"

You try to change up your tactics. You pull out every trick you can think of, desperate to find an edge. Your breaths get short and your mind buzzes with humiliation every time Jake easily counters one of your moves. A strange, warm pressure starts to build inside you. Pressing your thighs together, you squirm in your seat. C'mon RC! Focus!

It's no use. Before you can even knock him out for a second time, he lands the killing blow and sends the room into a cacophony of cheers and hooting. Jake just looks at you, that same little smile on his face. "I knew you were a fake gamer girl."

You can't look him in the eye. Lincoln's voice cuts through the crowd. "Wow! Two stocked! How embarrassing."

You look back at Lincoln, your cheeks hot. "OK, whatever, I lost one match. That was a warmup."

Lincoln smiles. "So you're saying you want more punishment?"

You squeeze your thighs together again, that weird pressure getting worse. "I'm saying let's play a real match. That didn't count." You hate how lame your voice sounds, like you're a whiny kid who didn't get their way. Fuck it, I need to show them I can win.

"Real matches mean wagers, you know. Our turf, our rules." He cocks his head to the side. "How about this: you win a rematch, we stop calling you a fake gamer girl and you get full club standing."

Oh, how enticing. "And if I lose?"

"We get your bra." The boys shriek with laughter.

Your eyes go wide, and your thighs clamp together. "What?! My bra?"

"You can keep your shirt on, don't worry." He cocks his head to the other side. "And think of it like this: either way, you're becoming one of the guys. After all, none of us are wearing bras."

The mocking laughter assaults your ears. You cannot believe the arrogance of this fucking asshole. You don't give a shit about standing in his stupid gamer club. All you care about is shutting all these punks up and putting Lincoln in his place.

You look at George. His eyes are wide and he's shaking his head, silently begging you not to do it. He has a point. The thought of losing again is almost too much to handle. And having to give these guys your bra...

You squirm in your seat.