The Test School Ch. 04

The Test School Chapter 4 - Heather the Troublemaker

This is chapter 4 of 'The Test School' series, If you haven't already done so, you may wish to read the earlier chapters.

Thank you to everyone who commented and rated the previous stories, I hope you enjoyed this one as well. Please continue to share your comments and feedback.

Thank you to Kenjisato for editing.

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The sun was shining upon a colourful and welcoming world, the kind usually associated with cartoon animals frolicking in fields. That was the day they'd all awoken to, only to find out the picturesque image hid a truly miserable chilly day.

Beyond the towering perimeter fence there existed nothing but low grass on a featureless plain all the way to the horizon, allowing a person to see a gust of freezing wind coming for entire minutes before it finally hit them.

Each time the landscape began to ripple, Heather found herself watching the invisible wave move closer, expecting the wind to dash itself against the fence and dissipate. It was a moronic idea, even she'd admit that. The fence was a tough wire mesh intended to keep prisoners, or students, inside, not a plastic dome that could keep the weather out.

Once again, she saw the fence quiver slightly and felt her heart sink. A second later, the cold air hit them, slicing at every inch of exposed skin and passing through their clothes to steal what precious little body heat they hadn't already lost. She shivered, pulling her arms closer to her body in a vain attempt to defend whatever warmth she could. The rest of her foursome shivered as well, though they'd spent enough time outside already that they now just suffered in silence.

It had to be something about their altitude, or where the wind came from that made it so bitterly cold. The sun was shining, the sky was cloudless, and the grass was thriving, a paradise in all but one respect.

Their Albert-03 Test School uniforms, skirt, blouse, and tie were surprisingly warm, something they'd all admitted when given a chance to think about it, but that wasn't what they were wearing now. Instead of sitting around in a warm classroom in their warm uniforms, they were engaged in their first ever sports class of the new school, doing laps of the oval in their new sports uniform.

The sports uniform was far simpler, far shorter, and far less padded than the regular uniform. It was made up of a thin white shirt with a blue collar and cuffs, a pair of blindingly white sneakers and socks, and a pair of dark blue shorts.

The shorts were small and tight, and that was coming from people who were no strangers to the shortest and tightest of short shorts. These ones were little better than underwear, barely covering their hips before the material quickly disappeared into the crotch, leaving very little left to the imagination.

The sporty girls didn't seem to mind as they sprinted past the group, their shorts providing everyone with an excellent outline of their hardworking bottoms as their legs pumped up and down. The white shirts they were all wearing were also rather snug, a great sight for any fans of bouncing chests, though that was only a concern for the larger chested girls and they weren't exactly the sprinting kind.

Heather and the group had spent the first half of the class bitching and moaning about every single aspect of the sports uniform. Heather joined in, even if her normal shorts were tighter and rode even higher than these ones, all that mattered was these ones were compulsory. Once they'd tired of whining, they'd taken all of thirty seconds to settle on their next topic.

"On your left," came a shout from somewhere behind them.

A tall pale boy, with medium-length, curly black hair caught up to them on their left, not breaking his stride as he jogged past. They all noticed his not-so-subtle glance at tits and bottoms as he did so, not that they minded. This was the first class they'd shared with the male students, something that brought a little excitement to both genders.

"Fuck off!" came Heather's uncreative response, drawing an amused chuckle from one of her companions. If the boy heard her, he didn't react, his faster pace quickly taking him away from the group.

They watched him go, eyes bobbing up and down as they returned his interest and watched his backside until the distance between them grew too great. The boys' sports uniform was identical to the girls, except for a black and white colour scheme in place of their blue and white, and a shirt that didn't hug their form to the point of embarrassment.

Tired of feeling cold as they walked around the oval, ignoring the shouts from Ms Smith that they were supposed to be running, they'd started ranking the boys as they walked. Watching and waiting until the latest boy had reached a respectful distance, Heather turned to the group.

"What did you think of that one?" Cassandra, Cassie to her friends, asked. She was the broad of the group, with curly light-brown hair, smoky eye shadow, a stunningly curvy body and large breasts. At one point or another, she'd been the focus of the entire male student body this morning, not that the rest of them hadn't gotten their own appreciative glances from the boys.

"Not bad looking, but I'm not exactly getting a charming personality vibe. Apparently has decent stamina, but he also seems a tad too skinny for my liking. Call it a six and a half, and up for grabs if you want him. Unless Raven wants to finally make a pick?" Heather appraised. Without needing much encouragement she'd taken the job of evaluating any passing boys, in much the same manner as if she was selecting a new outfit, or cut of meat.

Heather had long black hair that she'd kept as straight as she could manage, which she had some success with. Until she'd met Cassie, she thought she was among the better looking of the school, but her petite frame, dull brown eyes, smallish chest and hips, and relatively plain face were all overshadowed.

She didn't mind that, it just would have been nice to be recognised as the sexy one in the school for wayward sluts, as all the girls had started nicknaming it.

It was her personality, or her poor character as her unfortunate teachers referred to it, that drew attention to Heather. She was a firm believer in the 'Fuck it' school of thought; fuck rules, fuck everyone. That said, she always found herself with a group of people, all the better to create some cover for getting away with something and besides, she liked an audience for her general bitchiness.

"I'm still not playing," replied the petite, short black-haired figure on the other side of Cassie, though she quietly thought the boy seemed nice enough. Raven was the youngest of the group by only a few months, yet she came across as youthful and innocent beyond her years, not something the rest of the group considered a positive character trait.

"You'll be left with the dregs if you don't start playing, you wimp," Heather countered, "Or do you need to feel his fingers before you can make a decision?"

Raven had had a rough first day at the Albert-03 Test School. Through a poor choice and an astonishing willingness to go along with whatever the Headmaster wanted, she would forever be remembered as the girl who got finger fucked on stage in their first assembly (See Chapter 01).

Naturally, Heather had been pretty merciless about that, taunting Raven whenever she saw an opening. It wasn't Heather's choice that Raven was in the group now, the girl had been attached to Cassie's hip ever since her debut performance and that was that. Cassie seemed to offer Raven some protection, willing to tell others, especially Heather, to back off if they went too far, though when Raven wasn't around Cassie had no issues sharing a quiet laugh at her expense.

"I do not!" Raven finally replied, already sounding uncomfortably close to tears.

"Six and a half seems low, Heather, I'll take him as my fourth," Grace cut in, preventing any further snide remarks from Heather.

Grace was the newest member of the group, having joined them on their lazy morning walk. Much like Heather, she was relatively petite, with long, mostly well-kept hair, though hers was a very light brown. It was their faces that really told the difference, Heather maintained a textbook case of resting bitchface, while Grace somehow managed to pull off a 'sweet yet slutty' approachable disposition.

Heather had to count on her fingers to make sure Grace's numbers checked out. As fun as ranking of the boys had been at the start, they hadn't been satisfied with that for long. It was almost two days since they'd first put on chastity belts as part of their school uniform. To their collective surprise, and quiet horror, they were already noticing a subtle craving that nibbled at the back of their mind. So naturally the ranking of boys had grown to include a rather shameless selection process, as they divided up the better-looking options amongst them.

Grace had indeed just grabbed her fourth, Cassie was already at four, while Heather had bid aggressively and was at her full allotment of five already. That just left Raven who, despite the groups collective prodding, found something distasteful in publicly admitting she fancied anyone. This despite the school's selection criteria guaranteeing she was definitely not a virgin, but also someone who'd failed her last school because of her sexual exploits.

Grace was glancing around again, keeping an eye out for any fresh meat coming up from behind when something caught her eye, instantly her head snapped forward.

"The Perv is gaining," she whispered, interrupting Heather's recount.

For a group that was more than comfortable being the focus of gentlemen's attention, this particular 'gentleman' was an exception. The Perv, as he'd been quickly titled, had long, messy black hair and a greasy face. He was also slightly overweight, with pasty skin that made him appear corpse-like from a distance.

If his appearance wasn't enough to guarantee him a life of isolation, and looks of disgust from any woman unfortunate enough to catch sight of him, his personality was similarly off-putting. There's a particularly repugnant type of person who can simultaneously believe themselves to be god's gift to women, while behaving like the worst kind of pathetic, mother's-basement-dwelling creep.

As if he was determined to leave them with no doubt that he did indeed fit into that category, he'd gone out of his way to demonstrate both traits in the short time they'd been aware of his disgusting existence.

Exiting the changing block, and already self-conscious about their new uniforms, they'd all quickly spotted the one guy who'd taken up position right by the entrance to the women's changing room. He kept his distance, just enough to feign ignorance if anyone could stomach asking him what he was doing, but his lecherous examination of every female form left little room for doubt.

Following up that act of creepiness, he'd spotted the group clumped together just before Ms Smith sent the class off on laps around the oval. With an absolutely breathtaking amount of unwarranted confidence he'd made a beeline for the group, arm outstretched to Raven like he'd been her best friend for years, a fantasy he was probably already concocting.

Heather and Cassie had reacted with lightning speed to extract Raven before any physical contact could occur, the unspoken rules of sisterhood taking precedence over everything else in that moment. He'd targeted Raven because he could tell she was the timid one, the least likely to outright refuse his unsolicited greeting, something that set off red flags for Heather and Cassie, and instantly earned him a nickname.

Here he was again, just out of earshot, eyes definitely fixed on them as he tried to inconspicuously close the distance. The girls acted in unison, picking up their speed from a lazy, to a determined walk and denying the Perv a close up.

No one spoke while there was any chance of him overhearing, they just kept up the pace until they were well away from him. Even after they felt safe and dropped their speed back a nudge, they kept up a faster walk than before, just in case.

Heather was the first one to break the silence, "With a charming personality, an attractive body and an exotic odour, I give him a zero out of ten, do we have any takers!"

"Get fucked," came the immediate reply from Cassie.

Grace burst out laughing, "Like he would even know what to do with a real woman, he probably got sent here for too much wanking to his anime pillow."

Raven remained quiet, giving Heather an opening.

"With no other takers the delightful young man goes, by default, to our very own Raven Thompson. I'll send you a belt sander to scrape the crap off his face for your wedding night."

Raven blanched at the thought, which only made the rest of them laugh even harder, which soon proved infectious enough that Raven had to join in.

Their laughter carried them far, strong enough to make the cold day feel slightly warmer, but all too soon they once again approached the arbitrary point on the field Ms Smith had designated the starting line. Quickly they stifled their giggles, though the grins proved harder to hide as Ms Smith eyed their approach.

"All right, ladies," Ms Smith almost shouted, growling in that particular loud and frustrated manner all sports teachers seem to have, like they all wear their whistles too tight. "You can stop there and change for your next class. If I don't see you guys run at least a lap next time, then we'll spend your weekends working on it, understand me?"

"Yes, Ms Smith," they answered in unison, though only one of them took the threat seriously.

They walked to the changing rooms, moving faster getting off the field than they ever had on it, to enter a long squat building that divided the sports fields and pool at the back of the campus from the classrooms, dorms and other buildings. The entry was a cavernous doorway on the right side of the building, with the traditional stick figure symbols for women guarding the way inside.

Heather was the first inside, finally escaping the bitter wind that made even a changing room feel heavenly. The room was the typical off-white tiled space, with blocks of lockers jutting out from the left wall and dividing the space into a series of small changing alcoves, with wooden benches sandwiched in the gaps. The right wall had a matching series of brick doorways leading to blocks of showers or toilets. The entire room was surprisingly well lit, but the steam coming from the showers already in use was so dense it gave the place a slightly hazy atmosphere.

Like all the buildings in the school, the place was far larger than it needed to be, with lockers and showers continuing down a corridor that seemed to go on forever. The whole campus was designed for a faraway future, where the mere twenty female students would grow to hundreds. But it wasn't the niceness of the facilities, or the sheer scale of them, that made the greatest impression on Heather, as she grabbed a crisp white towel from a convenient trolley.

God, she thought, if only I was into chicks.

Throughout the change room was an array of young women in the prime of youth, all of whom were either naked, or near naked, with only a chastity belt spoiling their otherwise flawless figures. Some had wrapped a towel around their chests for modesty, a few covered their waists, while one had used two towels to cover both, but that did little to hide tantalising curves as each student undressed before heading over to the showers.

Every figure seemed to move around the changing room with almost impossible elegance, or at least that was how Heather saw it, even the steam from the showers added to the effect, giving the place an ethereal mist. With a slowness that suggested she may, perhaps, have at least a small interest in the female form, Heather forced herself to close her mouth and start moving again.

I wonder what that perv would pay me to stick a camera in here, Heather wondered, not that she actually would do it, her lack of a camera the biggest flaw in that get-rich-quick scheme.

They walked down the corridor to their lockers, abandoning Grace since she hadn't gotten changed with them. The remaining three had gone for a set of lockers slightly further back when they'd first entered the changing room, finding the alcove empty at the time. Now the space was occupied by two students, both abandoning the last of their clothes before they went over to the showers.

The first was a spiky-haired blonde that Heather had only seen in passing, the other she recognised for more obvious reasons.

"Hey, Teah," she almost shouted, "You squeal when all your boyfriends touch you, or just when the Headmaster ties you up first?" (see Chapter 02).

Teah blushed, turning away without saying a word in the hope Heather might just leave her alone.

The blonde girl had no such hesitation.

"Fuck off, Heather," she snapped back, giving her a withering stare as she spoke. "Besides, aren't you the expert in teacher fucking?"

Heather scowled, it was no fun sniping at people when the Headmaster had already publicly outed her for her past misdemeanours.

"Who asked you, cunt?" was all she could come back with.

The blonde girl smirked, unimpressed at the return salvo and turned back to Teah. Together they left for the showers, leaving the alcove vacant for Heather and her friends.

"Bitch," Heather whispered as she left. She sat down on the now vacated wooden bench, with Cassie and Raven joining her a second later.

"Heather," Raven began, sounding every bit like the naïve little girl Heather thought she was. "Why are you like that?"

The question caught Heather by surprise, once people had met her they tended to come to the understandable conclusion she was a bitch and leave it at that. What was Raven expecting, a heartfelt tale of deep loneliness, something about emotional unbalance, or a story about a rough childhood?

Heather had never really felt lonely, at her last school she'd built her own clique, students like her who were happy to mock everyone and everything they came across. Even now she'd settled into a group of friends, not that that was a requirement, spending time by herself had never fazed her in the slightest.

Was she emotionally disturbed? The thought had occurred to her a long time ago, but it's hard to diagnose yourself even if you're normal. She got a lot of joy out of mocking others, finding that one vulnerable spot and pressing it until her opponent crumbled, but everyone had their hobbies.

The rough childhood might have been closest to the truth, though of course, she'd deny that if asked. Her parents had largely been absent in one way or another, and with no siblings, Heather had more or less grown up by herself.

Her mother was always happy to shout and yell from the kitchen, in between her cigarettes and booze. For all of Heather's nineteen years of existence that pretty well summed up their relationship.

The relationship with her father had been less verbal, but no less confrontational. Every morning, he'd left for work in a crisply pressed suit, returning late at the night looking tired and dishevelled. He'd immediately walk up to her room, bring up some issue her mother had heard from school, or made up completely, and administer his version of parenting.

He was the spanking kind of parent, usually over his knee while her skirt was pulled up, panties being entirely optional. Being spanked by her father was her first, last and really only memory of him, he'd suffered a fatal heart attack when she was fifteen.

The spanking had been painful, yes, but mostly embarrassing, becoming humiliating as she grew older. But that hadn't stopped her father, who diligently spanked her until the day he died. Truthfully, the kind of truth you don't even willingly admit to yourself, Heather hadn't wanted it to stop either. Why she liked it, or at least didn't hate it was a mystery, but she really hoped it was just the father-daughter bonding.