Shake It Up: Tear It Up

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, to be read only by individuals aged 18 or above. The events depicted herewith are fantasy and do not reflect real world events in any way.



Ricky didn’t like to think that he was small time.

Not that he had much of a choice. Getting tagged with a nickname like “Sticky Ricky” meant that he usually got pushed around in lockup. The one time he tried to fight back, he got one of his front teeth knocked out. Whatever charisma he had before that was gone, which meant he would have an even tougher time climbing out of his shithole of a neighborhood. Dealing dope and pushing meth could only get you so far, and having a gap toothed smile made it harder to cozy up to the jailbait—the kind of girls he really liked.

He blamed Officer Jones for everything. A fucking beat cop.

He’d never forget the day the fat bitch ran him down and knocked him face first to the ground. He had just sold some dope to a couple of hot fifteen year old sluts in exchange for a quickie blowjob, when she rounded the corner into the alley where he was getting sucked. The girls were so hot that he was already on the verge of cumming, and when the bitch cop yelled, he blew—all over himself, because the girl sucking his dick pulled away and screamed.

That was how he earned his nickname.

After that episode, he seemed to get really famous around town, and not in a good way. It wasn’t even his fault, but the bitches started avoiding him like the plague. He got so hard up that he even tried to rape one of them, but being not that big of a guy, she fought him off and laughed at him when she managed to kick him in the balls, crumpling him to the ground.

That was his final humiliation. He was sick and tired of the bullshit. He was going to show everybody that Ricky Freely wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with.

It took him at least a month to work up the nerve to go through with his plan, though, and another before he found out where Officer Jones lived. His idea was simple: he would pay her a visit, beat the shit out of her, and maybe teach her that women should stick to desk jobs. He had one advantage: because of his ruined reputation, Officer Jones would never see him coming. Nobody thought Ricky would have it in him to stalk a cop to her own crib, let alone actually fuck her up. Nobody except a very pissed off Ricky.

He brought an aluminum bat with him. He wore gloves, too, because he wasn’t stupid enough to leave his fingerprints all over her apartment, and also because his hands were sweating so much that he might lose his grip on the weapon.

Getting inside the apartment was the easy part. If there was something he was a good at, it was shit like B and E. Luckily, the building wasn’t very big, and the names of the tenants, including their unit numbers, were printed conveniently on their mailboxes inside the front door. He had to smile when he saw that there was only one “Jones” living in that building. Maybe someone upstairs was looking out for him after all. Or maybe not—he didn’t think what he was about to do was nice enough to be noticed upstairs. More like downstairs.

He had the whole thing planned. He was going to wait outside for her to come home, to make sure she wasn’t bringing anyone home, then sneak into the building himself. Then he’d go all the way upstairs to the roof, climb down the fire escape, and get inside her apartment through the window. Then he would clobber the shit out of her with his baseball bat.

She came home that night in the early evening. Ricky’s eyes were on fire when he watched her go inside. He had to smack his chickenshit legs with the bat to make them do as he wanted, but he got them to carry him up the steps of the apartment building a few minutes after Officer Jones disappeared inside. He jimmied the lock open and invited himself inside quietly, looking almost like he lived there, then proceeded to climb the stairs to the roof and back down the fire escape.

The light inside was on, and the window had been opened also. He knew he couldn’t hang around on the fire escape for long, but he had managed to time it perfectly; he wasn’t about to chalk anything up to luck, what with the kind he’d had recently. He waited until she had gone into the bathroom before climbing into the apartment.

His heart was thumping in his chest as he tiptoed up to the bathroom door. He positioned himself so that Officer Jones would have her back turned to him when she got out. When the toilet started flushing, his legs screamed at him to get the fuck out, go home, watch some porn and let off some steam that way, but his heart said Hell to the fuck NO.

And then it shouted FUCK YES when the bitch emerged; he went with it, swinging the bat over his head and smacking her right in the head. Her thick blonde hair jumped, and for a moment Ricky thought she would spin around, whip out a gun from somewhere and blow him away. He added another quick whack to the back of her head, but by then she had already begun to fall.

He didn’t realize he was panting until he tried to whoop, and all that came out was a soft wheeze as he was out of breath. He kicked her twitching body to make sure she really was out, then cursed himself for being such a pussy. There he was, standing over the unconscious body of the cop who fucked his shit up, holding an aluminum bat when she was clearly unarmed, and he was still afraid? He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and took a moment to calm down, then grabbed the woman with both hands and started to drag her out of the cramped hallway and into the living room.

Officer Jones still had her handcuffs on her belt. Ricky decided that he would take no chances and cuffed her arms behind her back, slapping them on tight enough to dig the metal into her wrists. He did not plan on staying very long, but he also wanted to enjoy this as much as he could. The knowledge that he had the upper hand finally sank in, and he did what he had wanted to do for a long, long time: he wound his leg up and kicked the bitch hard in the stomach, enough to turn even her thick body over.

He gave her another kick to the ribs before he noticed that her blue shirt was wide open. She was off duty, but what the fuck kind of woman cop walked around with their shirt open like that? Sure, the pig was wearing a tank top underneath, but…God DAMN she was stacked, Ricky thought to himself. He tried to remind himself that he was there for business, but his dick was already rock hard. He suddenly remembered that he hadn’t had any pussy in a while—and it was all this bitch’s fault.

Ricky had never actually raped anyone before. He’d made his one failed attempt out of desperation, and he had not attempted it since. He knelt down next to Officer Jones and let himself grab a handful of those double Ds. A small voice in his head shouted that he didn’t have any condoms with him, that leaving semen behind would put him in a world of hurt, but maybe if he could just pull out before he shot his load…

The apartment door swung wide open. “Mom! I’m home!”

Ricky’s head snapped up even as he mouthed the word “FUCK.” He froze; he couldn’t move. All he could do was watch as the red haired girl bumped the door shut with her hips and bounced into the apartment. Her eyes widened as she saw him on the ground with the woman—with his fingers still digging firmly into her breast.

“Who…who are you?” she stammered. “What are you doing to my mom?”

The girl seemed none too bright. She was also about twelve, thirteen at the most, so far as Ricky could tell. He wasn’t expecting the bitch cop to be living with anybody. He realized that he hadn’t thought this through very well at all, so intent was he on getting revenge on Officer Jones. No wonder he was such a fuckup.

He had to take control of the situation, fast. “Shut the fuck up and get the fuck over here,” he told the girl in a loud whisper. “If you scream, I’ll bash your mom’s fucking head in.”

The girl might have understood, but she didn’t budge an inch, probably because she knew she was in trouble. Ricky had no choice but to run up, grab her by the arm and drag her further into the room. She screamed, but he threw his hand over her mouth just in time to muffle most of it.

“What are you, retarded?” he growled in her ear as she began to thrash. He saw that the kitchen was nearby, so he dragged the little brat with him and drew out one of the knives from the holder randomly. It was big, sharp and very clean, like it had never been used before. He waved it in front of her eyes.

“Listen, kid. I’m going to cut you AND your mom up if you don’t stop this shit right now!”

If the knife was not being used to cut food, it worked just as well as a magic wand. The girl understood what it meant to be cut, at least. Ricky knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with these two if he couldn’t get the girl to cooperate with him, and to keep himself from being surprised again, he had to find out who else was living in the apartment.

He let go of her mouth but kept his grip on her arm. “What’s your name, ki—I mean, sweetheart?”

The girl’s lips were quivering, and her dark, pretty eyes were glistening with tears. “Ce-ce-ce…m-my name is CeCe…”

“Good. Now, who else lives here with you and your mom?” Please don’t say dad, Ricky prayed.

“Just…just my little brother, Flynn,” she admitted.

Fuck. “Where is he now?”

“He’s sleeping over at a friend’s. P-please don’t hurt us, mister. I can…I can give you money.” The girl reached inside her vest carefully and pulled out a check. “I-I’ve got some hidden inside of Elvis, too.”

Ricky snatched the check from her hand and glanced at it. “What the fuck am I going to do with a check? And who’s Elvis?”

“My teddy bear.”

Mother of FUCK. She was just a kid. Ricky started to feel all sorts of guilty when he decided to glance over at the unconscious woman. That made him feel all sorts of angry again. But his conscience was still alive and kicking; maybe he’ll just take the kid’s money, beat her mom some more and leave her feeling like shit about being responsible for her daughter being robbed. He looked closer at the check.

“A hundred bucks?” he said incredulously. “How the fuck does a—how old are you, twelve, thirteen?—how the hell does a kid like you come by this much money?” The payor was some production company whose name was unfamiliar to Ricky.

“I-I’m thirteen. I’m a backup dancer on Shake It Up Chicago.”

“No fucking way.” He’d watched the show a few times. There was this cute blonde dancer on it that he would have loved to fuck. It was starting to come back to him. He had seen this girl before. She was always paired up with a taller black girl. That one had some moves on her, but this one—CeCe, as she calls herself—was always a bit awkward.

By association, he found himself looking at the kid in a different light. He caught himself looking at her chest. There was a little bit of something there, but it could just as easily be a trick of the light or a crease in her shirt in the right place. No; she had worn something a little tighter on the show, once, and even though she wasn’t anywhere near as developed as the blonde girl, he could swear he saw pokies. One or two of the older jailbait bitches he’d felt up was about this flat, but he was very curious about what a real pair of thirteen year old tits looked like.

Ricky licked his lips and gestured with his knife. “Lift up your shirt for me.”

CeCe couldn’t believe her ears, retreating a step instinctively. “What? No!”

“Just do as I say. I’m not going to hurt you.” Ricky told himself he wouldn’t.

He gave her a moment to decide; he wasn’t really going to stab a thirteen year old girl. Fortunately, with his gap tooth and fucked up face and all, she thought he really would harm her. Her face dissolved into quiet sobs as she fumbled with the hem of her little graphic tee. Blushing in humiliation, she looked away and slowly pulled up her shirt, exposing her taut, clenching tummy and her chest. A pair of pale pink nipples sat on top of breasts that looked about as delicious as unbaked, bite sized cookies.

Somewhere, a voice demanded, “What the fuck are you doing, Ricky?” It was one thing to grope a fifteen year old slut after she’d offered to let you do it in exchange for weed, but this girl seemed on the up and up. He could see himself having a crush on her if he were her age. Ignoring his better judgment, he reached for the girl’s chest and caught one of her little puff tarts between his thumb and fingers, squeezing it gently at first before digging harder into her tender flesh. He groaned, in that shameless, disgusting way that perverts did when they were alone; they were the firmest, softest breasts he had ever touched. He shrank his grip and pinched her nipple, feeling his cock jump as if his hand had been squeezing on it instead.

He licked his lips, panting through his mouth as his excitement mounted. He really was going to do it, Ricky realized. Raping a kid wasn’t going to earn him any street cred—might even get his shit pushed in for it, probably—but that concern had been abandoned somewhere between making the girl show her tits and actually touching them. He was burning up on the inside and cold on the outside, the way he felt when he was perving it up on the L or getting a blowjob too close to a school.

Ricky hadn’t forgotten Officer Jones; the bitch was still lying there, the big blue elephant in the room. He wanted at least a few shots on goal on this cute little redhead, and the cop could wake up at any moment. “Stay here,” he told the girl, before dashing off to the kitchen and rummaging for a dirty dish cloth, which he used to gag the woman. He went around yanking the cords out of the phones and used one to tie her legs together as well. The girl didn’t try to run; she wasn’t so dumb as to think that Ricky wouldn’t hurt her mom if she escaped alone.

And that meant the poor thing was going to pay for what her mother had done to Ricky. He made her take her vest off, checked it for a cell phone, and crushed it under foot when he found one. His still had the knife in one hand, his trump card, and that made it hard for him to take his pants off, especially since they were bulging on the front. He decided he would make it fun and forced CeCe to help him pull down his zipper.

“Don’t try to bite my balls or anything,” he threatened, “that shit only works in movies. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much in real life.” He wasn’t about to let her get wise on him. He didn’t want to be this mean to her—a part of him really wanted to be on her side—but he was in enemy territory, and his conscience was only one self inflicted guilt trip away from slapping his shit for forcing himself on a thirteen year old girl. The chances of that happening dimmed when she finally managed to pull his zipper all the way down over his bulge, letting him step out of his jeans and shorts.

Ricky didn’t have the biggest cock around the loop, but he had enough to fill two hands and still leave the head open. And it was definitely enough to make CeCe very frightened. Her arms retreated as soon as their task was done, but Ricky snatched one back and forced her to touch his cock. Her touch was cold as ice and her grip was tentative, but it made for a very pleasant combination, like she was teasing him inadvertently.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he demanded in an urgent tone, as though he were speaking to one of his usual sluts. “You ever suck dick before? No? It’s easy. Just hold on to it, like this—“ he had to pry her fingers open to force them around his shaft, “and push it back and forth, like this. You’re a dancer, aren’t you? This is simple shit compared to what you do every week.” He directed her to use her other hand. Perhaps he struck a nerve by appealing to her dancer’s pride, but she started to stroke him with both hands despite wearing her sorriest look.

Ricky had never had to teach a girl to suck cock—every mouth he’d fucked before had a basic grasp of it—but as annoying as this was, the idea that he was treading on virgin ground made it a lot more exciting. “What are you waiting for? It’s called a blowjob because you gotta BLOW on it.” He reached for her head and pulled it into his crotch, thrusting his hips simultaneously to make it harder for her to dodge.

But CeCe acted as though she’d made up her mind about keeping Ricky’s dick out of her mouth. Judging by the way her nose wrinkled and her throat gagged, his sweaty stench was not the least of what repulsed her; she had to be pissed, too, that he’d hurt her mom bad enough to put her out for so long. She winced as the tip of his cock slid across her lips and clenched teeth, throwing it off target. He tried it a few more times; it felt good to rub his cock against her warm, creamy cheek, but he wanted his dick sucked, not to make a porno.

His frustration culminated in a heavy backhand across her face, the blow cracking so sharply against her cheek that he felt bad about it immediately. Ricky knew what it was like to get his ass kicked by bigger kids; shit, he still got his ass handed to him from time to time. The kid had done nothing to deserve it. She had done almost everything he’d asked of her, and he sure as shit had put up the same kind of fight himself when an older kid tried to fuck his face back in Audy.

Ricky reached for the fallen girl to help her up. She was crying uncontrollably now, but he didn’t think it would be a big deal; kids cried all the time.