Guilt and excitement ran through my veins to the top of my head all day. My virginity was given to Jake, but I couldn't care less. I completely fantasized about his tight asshole. I loved it. I loved his tears as he cried. I loved the dominant feeling I got from taking him forcefully. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and I felt liberated.
The only evidence of the deed was on my phone. I desperately wanted to take it home and watch it. In between classes, I hauled my backpack with all my weights and books to each class. I stopped in front of a bathroom. I stopped each time and felt like I wanted to enter the bathroom to watch it. Instead, I walked towards the next class.
This feeling was incredible. I never felt like this, and I wondered if this was what feeling high was like. No one around me paid attention to me except some of the jocks. They whispered under their breath, but I couldn't care less. I would do the same to them as I did Jake if they decided to become a problem to me. I felt invincible and knew I had to calm myself down.
I forcefully stopped myself from fantasizing about Jake in class as well. My cock hardening would rightfully earn me some ridicule. Men got that too, and so it would be fitting if I got caught too on it. I was a true equalist, and I wished everyone else was.
The last class was a gym class, my favorite class throughout school. I needed to work off my extra energy I felt right now. I went back to my crime scene, and I felt my cock stiffen as I entered. You could smell the sperm lightly in the air, but other than that, it was all cleaned up. I smiled as I changed and struggled a bit with my cock before I was ready for the gym.
I join the rest of the Female class. I sighed as I saw all of the girls in various states of stretches. I stepped up to our gym teacher, and he looked at me as I approached. "Excuse me, Mr. Trimmers," I said as I approached.
"Yes?" Mr. Trimmers said.
"Hi, I am Angela. I am a Futanari or hermaphrodite. I don't strictly follow either gender, Mr. Timmers." He nodded, his eyes wide in surprise. "Sorry For being straightforward, but I was wondering what we are doing today? I work at a higher physical peak than others in this school and would like to increase the difficulty for myself whenever possible." I explained.
Mr. Trimmers stroked his beard as he contemplated the problem, "We are doing just some running so I can see where you ladies are in physical condition." He replied, "Something simple like that is it today. As for tomorrow, that can be a surprise," He said with a smile.
My frown, though, spoke volumes to him, "That is too low for me, Mr. Trimmers. It frankly is useless for me just to run. My body would lose muscle mass if I did that routine." I commented to his growing surprise. "For today, to show you my baseline, I will put on the weights that I used this morning for my run," I said, starting to turn when he put a hand on my shoulder.
"Miss. Angela, Please let's discuss this before you go off. What is your morning routine?" He asked.
I shrugged, "I have gotten really good. I put forty pounds on each foot and arm. Then I put some weights in my backpack. It's a sturdy backpack, by the way. But altogether, the backpack is about fifty pounds. So in total, It's two hundred and ten pounds; A little over that with textbooks. It's a good run, and I really enjoy it. Still a little challenging, but the weight distributed around my body makes it a lot simpler." I finished. I was proud of my capacity and loved weightlifting. I wanted ripped muscles like those muscular women in weightlifting competitions. I was woefully away from that.
Mr. Trimmers, on the other hand, was frozen in surprise before he said, "Bullshit. Absolute Bullshit. Prove it!" He commanded me.
Something in me screamed to punch him for saying that to me. But it was a reaction I was used to hearing when I spoke about my strength. I walked over to the teacher's locker room, pulled out my backpack, and walked back to Mr. Trimmers, who looked angry that I was trying to pull the wool over his eyes.
I one-handedly placed the backpack in front of him without a problem. I stared into his eyes as he looked at me. He looked at me solidly before he went to pick up the backpack himself. "I don't recommend trying to lift that improperly," I warned as he continued to grab my overly stuffed backpack. I even physically stopped him to stop him from hurting himself. "I am serious. I don't want you to hurt yourself." I said with utter honesty.
He finally stopped with my second warning and stood straight. He took a proper lifting position, taking me seriously now, and lifted the backpack with wide eyes. He looked at me, astonished. "What the Fuck!?" He yelled, pulling the attention of the stretching girls behind me.
"I told you. That is my morning routine, Mr. Trimmers. I do two kilometers with it and school. I carry them all in my backpack. I love working out, and I feel soon, I can add another fifty pounds to the routine. The problem is I am starting to run out of places to put the weights." I said. His surprise was total, as I could tell he didn't want to believe me.
I opened my backpack, moved past the textbooks, and took out the softer weights for my arms and legs—each with twenty lbs printed on it. I placed two on each leg and two on each arm. The familiar weight settled on me, and I picked up my backpack and turned to Mr. Trimmers with a smile. "Okay, I am ready for a light run. How long do you want me to run for? An hour of running seems like a good start to working out." I finished, knowing that he would be surprised.
The Gym I went to over summer break didn't believe me until I made everyone submit to my impressive muscles. I desperately wanted to show more muscle so I could kiss my muscles. My Biceps deserve some love from my lips. The flab that I could never seem to get rid of refused to leave, though.
Mr. Trimmers looked at me with surprise, as did the other girls watching me. I turned to see their faces. Many looked good; some didn't. I never really talked to anyone in school. To them, I was Dick girl. The girl with a dick. The boys avoided me; the girls ostracized me. It was my normal.
Now, I saw those faces, and each looked at me with a different expression as I showed off my athletic prowess. I ignored them, though, and I turned to Mr. Trimmers again. I was looking to exercise, and that was why I did Gym class till my senior year. I didn't need the credit. I wanted the activity in school to do something I love. They couldn't stop me from playing sports with the girls when I was in class without coming across as discriminatory. They already were, but that wasn't the point. I preferred to be against the boys in sports, but I was perfectly fine using the girls as an outlet to have some fun playing sports.
"Just run until you feel like stopping, Ms. Angela." He said, his voice resigned to fate. I didn't care anymore and did some light stretches. My body was almost always ready for a good run, but I never stopped my stretches. Finally, I started to run around the field while I heard Mr. Trimmers yell at the other class members to run with me. I chuckled and slowly picked up the pace into something I found more relaxing. The weight settled into my movement, and I started to pass girls as I ran in a blissful trance as I ran around the field. The world was right as I ran lap after lap. I worked up a sweat, pushing me to want to run faster. My smile grew as I did so.
The Liberation of Jake settled into my mind, and my excitement wore off as I ran laps around the field. The constant pounding of my feet hitting the ground lulled me into blissful happiness. This was the area I loved; it was like a drug that I could constantly achieve a High in this zone. I happily ran in my zone and was only awoken by an obnoxious alarm ringing in the background. I woke up to the world around me and saw many tired, sweaty girls gasping for air. I ran back towards Mr. Trimmer's, stopping just before him with a smile.
"That didn't really hit the spot for me. I am going to the weight lift room to pump some iron before I am done. Is that okay with you, Teach?" I asked with a large smile.
He looked at me as if I was a monster, as I was still covered in sweat but not breathing too hard. He just pointed at the weight area, and I smiled and headed off with my things. I ignored the surprised, tired looks behind me, entered the gym, and got to work out, pumping some iron. The bliss quickly came back as I felt each pump of the iron as therapeutic. I lost track of my time, but Mr. Trimmers came into the room sometime later as I was doing three-hundred-pound squats.
I noticed him in the mirror and finished my reps before I dropped the weights and turned to him. "Sup?" I asked.
"Angela," He said and looked to be struggling with something.
"Yes?" I asked again, and he seemed to find what he wanted to say.
"Angela. You are scary," Mr. Trimmers said. "You are way above high school level gym. Do you have any plans for university? College? Community college? Going into sports?" He asked, his expression serious, and sat down on one of the benches.
I pulled another with a frown and sat across from him. "Yes, And No," I confessed truthfully. "I don't have a scholarship anywhere. Sports teams can't use me, so athletic clubs will not sponsor me. I am a Hermophidite, and they don't accept me in high-level competitions." I told him. He nodded, realizing he might have hit a sore point. He opened his mouth, but I held up a hand. "Mr. Trimmers, Life isn't always fair. I know that more than most, and I have come to accept it. Now, As for university or college. I am not sure I have worked my hardest these past years to improve my grades. I am not perfect, but I get above ninety percent across the board now. I struggled to bring that up. This is the avenue life has left me, and I am pursuing it. What do I want to do with life?" I turned to him with a frown. "No fucking clue. So, Mr. Trimmers, with that in mind. What would you like to talk to me about?"
The honest way I entered the discussion threw him off for a second before he composed himself. "Have you ever thought of being a professional marathon runner?" He asked.
"That is a precarious career, Mr. Trimmers, and I do not plan to run for sponsorships. I love sports," I said wistfully, "I love soccer the most, and I love running. I will participate in Marathons. But, Mr. Trimmers, that isn't a career I can do without entering competitions. Competitions are divided by gender. Which gender do I compete under? Male? Female? I easily outpace women. Few men can beat me with the same amount of extra weight. Or even without weights. So I should compete against men. The problem is." I pulled back and showed off my large breasts on my chest. I point at the mirror. "Do I look like a man to you?" I asked him. "Any career I take in sports will have this discussion. This is a discussion I remember causing a huge argument when I was eight years old as well. They concluded that I was neither." I sighed. "Now, Mr. Trimmers, Other than trying to find a sport I can compete in. What would you like to talk to me about?"
"I am worried about your future." He said, uncertain.
I sighed even louder and stood up. "I am too, Mr. Trimmers." I started to clean up what I took out before turning to leave. "I am, too." I sighed as I walked past him toward the showers.
I entered the teacher's locker room and headed toward the showers. I sighed, and my enthusiasm for the day diminished. I stepped in, not paying much attention, as I took off my top and my pants. I was completely caught off guard when I felt a fist contact my face. It hit me straight on the nose, and my brain woke up instantly at the sudden assault.
I saw a tall girl with an angry expression on her face, which promptly disappeared behind a second fist. My body reacted before I realized it, and I sidestepped the punch in my face. My arm, powered with a powerful step in, hit her collarbone, sending her reeling toward the wall. I remember my martial arts teacher taught me to neutralize the threat while I could. So I charged forward and pinned the girl to the wall. My body was in shock at the sudden eruption of violence, and my anger grew.
The Girl was fucking weak, and after the surprise sucker punch, I realized that I wasn't that hurt from the hit. I was still fucking pissed off, though, as I confronted her. "The Fuck you attacking me for!" I shouted at her.
She spits in my face. A glob of spit slowly dripped down my face. "Bitch, What did you do to my boyfriend?!" She yelled at me angrily.
I paused, my anger growing deeper into the abyss. I was barely controlling my body from destroying this bitch. I trembled, trying to contain myself, when she spat on my face again, joining the other saliva on my face. My eyelid twitched as my anger reached its peak. I physically felt pain as I held myself back.
"Who, The, Fuck, You, Talking, About, Cunt!?" I roared, letting my voice vent some of my anger at her assault.
"My Boyfriend is Jake bitch. I know he planned to rape you this morning and came out looking pale. Bitch, what did you do to him!?" My anger paused out of sheer surprise when she fucking spit on me a third time. My surprise was absolute, though. How many people were in the know about Jake wanting to Rape me?
"You knew?" I asked softly.
"Yeah, Get what you deserve bitch!" She said in a snarky tone, even under my control physically. "Bitch!" She spat in my face again before continuing, "I even fucking told him the best time for you to get your cherry popped bitch!" She said proudly with a smile. Safe in the knowledge, I would back down. I always had in the past.
My anger changed. I started to chuckle. "Hehehe," My laughter slowly started to erupt. I was so angry I began to laugh. I couldn't control it anymore as I laughed with my anger, fueling a more significant amount of laughter.
My mind reeled as the girl in front of me looked confused. I felt something else break in me at this moment. I just stopped caring anymore. They maliciously planned to rape me. She attacked me when her boyfriend wouldn't speak about what happened inside the locker room this morning. She attacked the victim, making me responsible for them. My respect for another human was absolutely destroyed. I no longer looked at the girl in front of me as a person. My anger reached a point that I reached this morning.
I wanted revenge. I instantly decided that I wanted revenge. But I needed to be smart about it. My anger was so absolute that I couldn't think straight as I laughed loudly. I let go of the girl in front of me, and she dropped to the ground, confused and angry. She brushed herself off.
She turned to leave, but I stopped her by moving my body. I slowly cornered her as I laughed. She grew more confused, and her fist came for my face again. I grabbed it and held it in my hand. I used her fist to push her the rest of the way into the corner. My hand then came up to wipe the spit off my face. I flailed my hand, and much of it landed on the floor. I stared into her eyes.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Bitch!" She seemed angry, but my fist broke a tile beside her head. The loud crack as it easily broke under my fist turned her anger into fear, fear of the person in front of her.
"What, Is your Name?" I asked again.
"Talon," She said, her face paling by the second.
"Last name?"
"Parker?" She said, uncertain.
I smirked, "Show me your school I.D. Talon Parker?"
"I-I, I don't have it?" She said meekly, the prior anger towards me a distant memory.
My fist broke another tile, and pieces of it littered the floor. "Wrong answer," I said slowly. "I will give you one more chance, Talon Parker, and it easier for a stupid girl like you to understand." I smiled again, Sinister in the promise of wanting to hurt someone. Photo I.D. or else you will be like the tile. Broken and in pieces."
Her face paled, but I spoke up as she tried to speak. "Ah," I held up a finger, cutting her off completely, "Last chance. I am not kidding here, Talon Parker. Photo Identification: I want to know all your information. I will not call the police. But if you do not pass me Identification, I Will Break you here and now."
Tears started to stream down her face, and she pulled out a driver's license. I took it in my hand, reading her details. Tracy Miller was her name, and she lived just two streets down from me. She was a senior and eighteen as well. I smiled as I put the license into my pocket. I stepped back with a smile. "Good, Tracy Miller, Good. I will be seeing you, Tracy. I will hold onto this until we see each other again."
She stood stunned, and I spoke again. "Get, The, Fuck, Out!" I commanded her, and she sprinted past me towards the doors. My anger was complete, and I decided I needed to run some more. Instead of showering and enjoying a walk-off of my routine, I put on my sweaty clothes that started to itch and put on the weights again. I probably stank, but I couldn't care less as I walked through the halls.
I headed home, letting the pavement soothe my anger before I bursted.
I would have my revenge against them both. I promised myself that.