S.O.L. Games: Web Design

DON’T START AT THIS CHAPTER

How to read S.O.L. Games (pronounced ‘soul’) :

Start with the Prologue and one or more Level 1 chapters in any order. (Jump Ropes, Floor is Lava, Pet Teachers)

Then read one or more Level 2 chapters in any order. (Web Design, Teacher Taut, Chemistry, Tug of War)

Then read one or more Level 3 chapters in any order. (Hide & Seek, Pencil Sharpener, Anatomy, Dodgeball)

Then read one or more Level 4 chapters in any order. (Stations of the Cross, Mr. Wolf, LockHer, Four Square)

And so on. More to come!



Link to all my stories and more chapters to this story are in my profile.



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DISCLAIMERS

In this series, I write from the perspective of the VILLAIN. That means I don’t agree with his choices, and you’re not supposed to either. We’re all acknowledging he is evil and wrong. Obviously nothing he does should ever be done in real life! Please be mature adults and separate fantasy from reality. This SHOULD evoke visceral, icky feelings. That’s the POINT. This is HORROR.

This is more PORN than PLOT.

All characters are 18+.This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

FETISHES / WARNINGS

-Non-con/Abuse/Violence/Male-dom

-Gross bodily fluids / bad smells

-Sweat / sniffing / licking

-Electricity torture

-Pissing

-Choking unconscious



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Web Design

“Attention females. Attention females.”

The gymnasium comes alive at the sound. A cascade of gasps and fearful murmuring sweeps across the room. High school senior girls and their most attractive female teachers all begin standing from their bunks, the soft words from the PA system spurring them into panicked motion. As always, the unknown woman speaks with a routine coolness, like some GPS voice giving directions. But her placid tone is at odds with the dark meaning behind her words: Someone initiated another game.

The remote trembles in my grip as I watch the girls with bated breath. Cameras around the gym show me everything, displayed on my TV. I sit in my own private little hotel room next door to the replica school where the girls are held prisoner. At my command, at the press of a button, the Announcer has the girls line up down the center of the basketball court. I gaze at them from my screen, like sweets on display behind glass. No longer my classmates and teachers. No longer sisters, daughters, moms. Just a seIection of tasty treats, victims ready for my choosing. God this is fucked up. But I feel myself harden as I watch them quiver, shoulder to shoulder. All forced to dress exactly as they would in real life, school uniforms, makeup, every single detail.

All morning, my mind has been foggy, a searing headache slowly fading. And as I look from girl to girl, I can tell a similar grogginess is affecting them. I’ve lost track of time in this place. The days seem to run together since we’ve been on this island. Memories of past games seem to slip away.

‘SeIect a Female’ appears on my screen, with profile pictures and bios of each girl. Fuck, this is so twisted. It’s like they’re not even human anymore. They’ve all been reduced to nothing more than items on a menu, dishes to be served. And I browse the seIection.

I feel bad for them. No matter what I choose, it feels wrong. I can leave at any time. Refuse to play. But then what? They get another dude in here to do the same thing. Either way, girls will be forced to participate. Girls I’ve stared at in class. Always untouchable, out of my league. So many beautiful bodies, and for once nothing prevents me from exploring them.

No, I shouldn’t be thinking like this! Look at how scared they all are! These are real people. Friends, classmates. I need to just pick someone who can handle herself, someone who won’t be easily broken. Each girl only needs to endure ten games, and then they go free. I’ll just make it as easy as I can for them and help everyone get out of this place one by one.

Teachers are my first thought. Probably the most durable, least likely to be traumatized. But my eyes keep fixating on a certain senior instead. An emo chick. Mindy Vos. I’ve had a thing for her for years. Sat next to her in both my Design and Computer Science classes. I’ve tried to talk to her countless times. She’s into most of the same things as my friends and me, bit of a nerd with similar taste in games and music. But she’s cold, acts hard and badass. Too hot for me, too mature and experienced. Brushes me off, like I’m beneath her. Type of girl who always has a boyfriend, always someone in a band. Skinny, charismatic guys covered in tattoos and hopeless futures.

As I look her up and down, I can’t ignore the thought tickling the back of my mind. The slightest desire for a bit of vengeance. To have just a taste of control over a girl who looks down on me.

The camera zooms in on Mindy’s unsuspecting face. Her expression snobby, trying to remain aloof and cool, especially compared to the whimpering teary-eyed girls next to her. She’s totally unaware she’s being closely examined, the quality of her young body being judged and considered for the next game.

Black hair, intentionally left a bit messy and ruffled, asymmetrically swooping down over one eye. She always rides the line of what’s allowed at a Catholic school. A bit too much black makeup around striking green eyes, half-lidded as if bored and unconcerned with her situation. Little plugs in her slightly stretched earlobes. And I’ve sat next to her enough to have gotten glimpses of the tattoos she hides beneath her schoolgirl uniform. Her flawless porcelain skin stands out among the lineup, paler, more flawless than most girls around her. I feel myself stiffen even more as I continue panning down her body.

Mindy is pretty tall for a girl. On the thicker side, just a tad overweight, though it’s really only noticeable if you stare at her as closely as I always do. A soft white uniform polo shirt hugs her torso snugly, showing off her average sized chest, the indent of her bra strap around the sides and back, down over her plump little love handles. My fingers flex subconsciously, imagining squeezing her soft body.

Her hips are wide, her plaid skirt as short as she can get away with. Dark nylons cover her long legs, no doubt hiding tattoos that would get her in trouble. Stylish black shoes with thick heels make her even taller, even more imposing. Black nail polish tops it all off.

A sexy yet intimidating young woman. Knows exactly what she wants, looks down on everything and everyone around her. A rebel who takes life by the balls. I’m sure an experienced slut like her can handle whatever the game makes us do. A tough girl who won’t make me feel too guilty for choosing her. I realize I’ve been rubbing at the erection poking up beneath my pants.

The girls all start to whisper and shift nervously as I’ve taken my time choosing. Then finally, the Announcer speaks again, “A female has been chosen… Mindy Vos. Please step away from the line.”

The look on her face is priceless. Amid all the gasps and mumbling and sighs of relief from girls around her, Mindy’s face wilts into dismay for a few seconds. Just a moment of delicious truth revealed beneath the ‘hardcore’ veneer. Girls on either side of her politely reach out and comfort her, but everyone knows they’re all just happy it wasn’t them. Mindy looks like she’s going to cry, her jaw dropping, eyes darting around as everything starts to sink in.

She tries to gather herself, eyes drooping back into the usual carefree expression. But as she steps forward… her wobbly legs give away her true feelings, her heel buckling under her. As she stumbles, almost falls, I can’t help but grin and grab at my cock again.

* * *

The hallways are eerily deserted as I approach the Computer Lab, Room 213 on the second floor. This was always one of my favorite rooms. High ceilings, dim lighting perfect for quiet work. Even between classes, the lab was always occupied with students hanging out and doing homework.

But as I open the door and enter, my breath catches at the sight of the bizarre new layout. All the computer tables and chairs remain the same. But what stops me in my tracks is the giant netting! From wall to wall in every direction, a massive rope net divides the entire room in half horizontally, like a ceiling just above my head. About the same amount of space above it as below. The netting is made of crisscrossed black cord rope, with square holes about 8 inches wide or so. Along every wall, the net connects to strange horizontal metal beams, which in turn attach to dozens of vertical beams that run floor to ceiling. The beams seem to be part of a strange moving hydraulics system. What the fuck is this?

As my eyes try to comprehend the unusual contraption installed around the room, I do a double-take when I notice something else above me. Mindy stands clinging to a wall, blindfolded and quivering in her schoolgirl uniform. While I can walk freely beneath the netting, she’s completely cut off from me, almost 7 feet off the floor, struggling to balance on the net under her feet.

Mindy has her shoes off, dark nylons bare against the rope. She darts her head around as she hears me enter, “Who’s that? Is someone there?”

As if responding for me, every single computer in the lab suddenly turns on, each simultaneously blasting some exciting arcade-like intro music and displaying the exact same interface: a title screen that says ‘School of Lust’.

The Announcer’s soothing voice comes from all computers at once, “Please remember, the chosen Female may not remove her blindfold, and the chosen Male may not remove his gag. Both participants must try to communicate with one another despite these limitations. Disobedience will result in punishment or forfeit.” I can’t help but grin, my heart racing. It’s like being in on a prank. While it’s true I’m not supposed to talk, I don’t actually have a gag on. Mindy thinks we’re in this together, but I secretly have much more control and freedom over this game than she does.

The Announcer continues, “Before further instructions, the Female must now prepare for the game by removing all clothing apart from her blindfold.” The arcade music continues, and Mindy freezes where she stands, as if not fully believing the words she just heard.

After a few awkward seconds, Mindy shouts back angrily, “Are you fucking serious?! No! I’m not fucking doing that!” Her voice is strong and defiant.

But without a second’s hesitation, her disobedience is answered with a quick low-pitch 8-bit dun-dunnn sound emitted from all the computers. An ominous note that clearly signifies failure. Immediately followed by a loud clicking sound coming from Mindy’s metal choker. I watch as the girl yelps in pain as the band around her neck suddenly blasts her with electricity! Her body writhes and loses function, her hand unable to hold the beam on the wall, and she falls forward, rolling down the slope of the netting. The poor girl tumbles toward the center, and I walk slowly closer, gazing up directly beneath her.

Mindy lays there faceup, twitching as the electricity punishes her. And I get a magnificent view as her skirt gets bunched up and she’s unable to keep her legs modestly closed. Dark nylons hugging tightly against plump thighs that jiggle from the torturous current flowing through her.