Payback is a Dick

Everyone thought they knew me, but they didn’t. For as long as I remember I hated who I was. When I was younger it was never an issue. I played with the boys and no one said a thing, but when my body changed, everything changed with it. First the people around me changed. They told me what to do and when to do it, and then the boys around me changed, telling me what to do and how they wanted me to do it.

When my body changed I began to hate myself. When my breasts began to develop that’s when most of the problems came. During those summer months I cursed my body, but there was nothing I could do. It seemed as my cup increased, so did my problems. The boys that I use to play with made constant comments about my boobs. As they kept growing, the comments slowed and the advances grew. When I was a D cup, I was pressured to jack off two guys from the neighborhood, when I was an E cup, I was forced to suck my first dick, and when I was a G cup, I was raped by my uncle.

I grew use to men wanting me because of my body. By the time I was fifteen, I was handing out blow jobs like it was candy. I hated the feeling that surged through my body when they grabbed my breasts, but they all grabbed them, and my body reacted. Everyone made comments about my boobs. Teachers told me to cover up, my mother told me I couldn’t wear this or that, my father told me I “shouldn’t advertise so much”, but they didn’t understand. I couldn’t choose the weight on my chest. No matter what I did, they always showed themselves. I got my mother to buy me minimizing bras. I wore sports bras when I could. I tried to hide them, but aside from having them cut off, its hard to hide over ten pounds of flesh hanging off the front of your body.

I did my best to stay away from people. I wanted friends, a boyfriend maybe, but because it always came back to my chest, it was better just to stay away. And then it happened. Benjamin Wilson had a pool party and his mother and my mother were friends. I tried not to go but my mother got the invite from her friends, and I was told I had to go. She told me in the kitchen on a Thursday, two days before I would have to go.

She was dressed in her little whore skirt. The one she liked to wear for the boss that she wasn’t fucking. “Your going, no matter what you say. I don’t care about your little insecurities.” We didn’t get along.

“But it’s a pool party. A pool party. Do you have any idea how bad that will be?”

“I don’t care. It’s all in your mind. Just because your obsessed with those boobs of yours doesn’t mean that everyone else is. You become the whore you want to be, not a whore because other people look at you and think it.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t fight her. She called me a liar when I told her about my uncle. She slapped me when I said that I wanted to have my breasts removed. She told me I was ungrateful for all her and my father did for me. The conversation went nowhere.

“I guess you shouldn’t eat anything then,” she picked up my plate and dumped it in the trash, “we wouldn’t want those boobs of yours to get any bigger, you might kill yourself.”

And that’s how it ended, and how I wound up being dropped off at the Wilson house and told that I would need to get a ride home. I showed up in a one piece, my small attempt at hiding my body, but it didn’t work. I wore a cover-up and shorts, but I still got the looks. I use to think it was just me, that I was making it all up, started believing what my mom and dad told me, but you can’t ignore someone grabbing you, touching you when you don’t want them to, ripping your panties off and fucking you from behind in the garage while your parents slept upstairs.

I stayed away from the other kids for most of the party. I talked to a few people, mingled as best I could, but being as self-conscious as I was, there was no hope. Mrs. Wilson finally came out and found me. She grabbed my arm and asked me to come in the house. She smiled nice enough and then got me a glass of water.

“So sweetie, I’ve been watching you all day, and you are just sitting over there alone. Your mom asked me to watch after you. Why aren’t you having fun with the rest of the kids?” (her son was an ass).

“I’m fine Mrs. Wilson, really.”

“Well why don’t you go get in the pool and enjoy yourself? I am going to leave you kids to have fun. Make some friends. Its not hard if you try.”

I didn’t answer, but turned, and without saying anything, I walked back out to the pool to the chair I had occupied most of the day when it all started.

“Hey camel, you gonna get in or what?” (camel was the nickname I had gotten at school because of the two large humps).

“I’m fine right were I am.”

“You scared that you might not be able to swim? Just float around with those things?” Everyone started laughing.

And that is how it happened. I didn’t say anything. I took off the cover-up, pulled my shorts down, and looked at them as they made more comments about paying attention to where I was so if someone was drowning they could throw me close to have floatation devises. But I didn’t stop there, I pulled the strap of the suit down my arm and everyone stopped talking and stared. I got both straps off before I released my breasts for all to see, past my breasts, I looked at them all and smiled. I pulled it down and stepped out of, lifted the suit and held it with one finger, and then dropped it. I dove into the water and felt the cold rush over my entire body, stayed under for what seemed like an eternity, and came up in the shallow end right in the middle of their little group.

They all starred, but they didn’t say a thing. The boys were clearly spell bound, still ignorant in the ways of women. The girls starred at me with disgust, then Rachel, the ring leader decided that I had too much of the upper hand.

“See shes just a whore, like we all knew. We all know how you gave Alex a blow job in the guys locker room. Whore.”

The guys looked at me for a response. The other girls started laughing, and then chimed in with the chant of “whore.” I had seen that movie by Stephen King with the blood and the prom and that was the feeling of it all. I was the tenth person at the party, the entertainment of the other nine. I was the one that all their anger could be directed at, all the hatred, and that’s when she decided to step the game up.

“You know if she’s going to act like a whore, maybe you guys should treat her like a whore.”

There were six guys, and they were basically surrounding me. The three girls sat on the edge and laughed. Ben was the first one that approached me. I didn’t think he had the balls to do anything so I turned away from him and started walking toward the stairs. I knew no matter what they though or said, they all wanted my body. I hated it, but they loved it. I made it up two steps, my ass almost all the way out of the pool when Rachel came up beside me.

She followed me out of the pool, and when I made it out, I turned to them all. “Fuck all of you. You’ll get what you deserve.”

Rachel was right there. “And you will too.” She slapped me hard, and the shock of it carried me almost to my knees. She grabbed my hair and pulled me to one of the chairs. She screamed for Ben and Adam to come help her. I didn’t know what was happening. She slapped me two or three times, spit on my face, and then announced to everyone, that “Now, the whore will be treated like a whore.”

She looked at Ben who stood there in shock and screamed for him to do it. When I tried to resist finally, Rachel hit me, and her little crew rushed out of the pool and held me down. Two got my arms and Rachel took her place holding my legs. When Ben finally complied with Rachel’s order, it seemed like my presentation had already done its work. Rachel released my legs as he pulled down his pants and between my pleas to stop, two of the guys grabbed my legs. They pushed my knees to my chest and then Ben got between my legs.

He looked down at me and smiled, “your going to enjoy this whore, aren’t you?”
When he finally pushed into me, I screamed, but as soon as I did, Rachel slapped me. “Shut up and take it like a whore.”

I started crying. I couldn’t resist and they knew it. Ben fucked me hard, causing my body to absorb his abuse. They laughed at my boobs moving and started telling everyone to “watch”… “look at those things”… the comments went on and on. It didn’t take him long, and everyone could tell that Ben was going to lose it.

“Make a mess of her Ben.” And then the chants came in, “Mess….mess… mess.”

He pulled out and stood, and started jacking his dick. Before long, the mess began. A stream of his cum shot out and reached my face, then the subsequent shots went less far, but managed to make quite the mess of my boobs and stomach.

And that’s how it continued to happen. They all fucked me, one after the other. By the time the second one was done, the girls didn’t have to hold me anymore. I was in a state of shock, and couldn’t move. After four loads on me, my tears dried up and the hatred began to grow, but I still couldn’t muster up enough to resist. When Rachel and the girls told me to turn over because the mess was disgusting, I simply did what they told me, and I didn’t even put up a fight when they told James to stick his dick in my ass. Both James and Ryan fucked my ass through my screams and all the girls just sat there laughing at me.

When it was all over, I curled up in a ball and cried. They didn’t say a thing at first. They just kept laughing and talking to each other about what they had done, that no one would believe me if I tried to say anything, that even Ben’s mother would deny that it happened. They threw my clothes at me and told me to go home to my “whore den,” and be careful of that would happen whenever they wanted it to.

I used the cover up to clean the cum off me, and slipped on the one piece as fast as I could. My ass hurt and was leaking their cum. My shorts went on quickly, but I found it hard to walk. I struggled past them all, my dried tears and swollen eyes giving away my utter defeat. When I finally reached the street, I began walking home. I made it two blocks before I sat down on the curb and started to cry. I sat there with my thoughts and tears for a few minutes, until a car pulled up and stopped. A man, probably in his forties shut off his car and asked me if I needed a ride. At that point it didn’t matter. If he was a rapist and was going to kill me, I didn’t care. I just wanted to get home and shower, crawl in bed, and never get out.

I looked at him with my tears. His face was pleasant and somehow calming, so I didn’t say anything. I stood up and opened the door and got in. He looked at me when I sat down and grabbed my hand. I immediately withdrew, but he grabbed it again. “Everything is going to be ok. I will make this alright.”

He didn’t say anything else. I didn’t tell him where to go, but before I knew it we were at my house. I looked at him. “How did you know where I lived?”

“I know everything about you. I have been watching you for a while, and today, because of what happened, I decided to do more than watch.”

“What do you mean you have been watching me? Are you a perv or something?”

“No, nothing like that. You see, I am here to help you.”

“How can you help me?”

“I already have.”

“How have you helped me?”

“Tomorrow when you wake up, you will have what you have always wanted and the means to get back to all those that have hurt you.”

“Whatever.” I got out of the car and slammed the door, began walking to the door, but he shouted at me to stop.

“Take this.” I turned to him and he handed me an envelope, which I took, and without any more words, I walked to the door, went to my room, showered and laid in bed and cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up everything was strange. I wasn’t in my room. I didn’t feel like myself. I realized immediately that I wasn’t myself. My breasts where gone, I saw that much, but what was stranger was that I seemed to take up more space in the bed than I had. I threw back the covers and what I saw almost caused me to scream.