The Trials of Brooke Meadows {Anasyrma and Alan23}

[Alan23]

Even today, there are certain misguided adults who tell those still at school that "Schooldays are the happiest days of your life." Whether these people genuinely fall into the small percentage of people for whom school is a halcyon era of fun and games, or simply view the past through the anesthetic of nostalgia is a moot point. It is perhaps as well that few of those still at school believe them - or the quota of youth suicide would rise exponentially, for many might conclude that "well, if it's going to get even worse than this, I'd sooner avoid it altogether!"

For school, save for a tiny percentage with perfect looks, athletic build, rich parents and perfect confidence is no paradise, or even anything like it. It is a prison, save that the inmates have fewer rights. A time when teachers, prefects or bullies can do what they like to you, and you have no defence. When you must be at this place, at this time, when a bell dictates, wear what the rules insist you wear, do whatever you are ordered, no matter how unfair or unreasonable. And when, like the unfortunate Brooke Meadows, you are right at the vey bottom of the school pecking order, a school is indeed the inner most circle of hell.

The lunch period, Brooke felt, was always the worst.

Before school, if she was careful, she could avoid the bullies. Nancy and Layla, and Finn, their male hanger on, and the rest. After seeing Wendy to her class she could loiter, hide behind the bushes at the end of the playing field, then make a frantic dash for her own class a few minutes before the bell sounded, thus leaving them no window to molest her. And morning break was so short she could usually manage to dodge ad weave and avoid them. But the hour they had for lunch was just too long a time. Whenever they wished to find her, they always could, for there were only so many places to hide.

For the millionth time she lamented the recently passed act of parliament, that had added the extra year of schooling to the curriculum to, as the bill had put it "better prepare our vulnerable young for the new and complex world in which they must iteract in adulthood." Damn it, at nearly nineteen, (for though, thanks to her small stature, innocent face and wide eyes she didn't look it she was actually the oldest in her class) she should have been able to put this life of constantly being bullied and tormented behind her. She was sure at Oxford it would not be like this. Damn it, it wasn't her fault she had her "little problem." You would think people might be sympathetic, rather than persecute heer at every opportunity for a situation beyond her control!

 

[Anasyrma]

Layla lit herself a cigarette off of Finn's lighter, inhaling the smoke deeply, trying to forget the droning voice of the history teacher who had gone on and on about this colony and that war, and everything was on the test like always ... as if he was trying to suck all life and happiness out of her brain. Finn next held the light up to Nancy's cigarette, who smoked in a much more subdued and impassionate manner. Finn himself didn't smoke, interestingly, and contented himself with creepily staring at the two girls.

The blonde was more of a drama queen, the brunette could be described as an ice queen, and both, despite the considerable advantages they had in this social sphere, hated school. Their parents were loaded enough that they could afford whatever beauty products and accessories they desired, off-setting the drab uniforms they were forced into. The same monetary might also meant they rarely got into serious trouble, as long as they made a minimum effort to conceal what rule-breaking activities they fancied, or simply denied participation outright. To many of the students, they were something akin to demigods. People didn't invite them to parties because usually they were throwing a superior party at the same time.

As high up the ladder they were, though, they still had to go to school, and worse, somehow pass. They couldn't stand the teachers, they couldn't stand being forced to memorize boring bullshit, and they definitely couldn't stand some low-life nerds embarrassing them by having the audacity to be better at it. So their favorite activity to make school a little more bearable was to have some fun with those nerds.
Layla and Nancy loved Brooke. Loved to hate her, loved to torment her. And as smart as the little bitch (who was a year older than them, what the hell?) was, she was also predictable. Whenever they managed to find her during lunch period, next time, she would choose the hiding place she hadn't been at for the longest. Today that would be the patch of grass right behind the gym, hidden from the rest of the school grounds. So that's where Layla, Nancy and Finn were waiting.

And sure as clockwork, a familiar face rounded the corner. They had kept quiet, so that Brooke wouldn't hear them until it was too late. Before she could turn around and flee, Finn had already grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her in place for an audience with the two queens.
"Hey, you look really tense. How about a massage?" His tone of voice was mocking. He really did massage her shoulders as he held her, but really, he just wanted to try and touch some bare skin by going under the fabric at the neck. Layla loved the suspense this produced. It forced Brooke to enthusiastically agree with anything they said and comply with their orders, because every second she argued against them, Finn might go a little further.

"Well, look who it is. What are you doing back here? Nothing forbidden, I hope? Oh, and if you have to pee, warn us beforehand. I don't want to get anything on me."
"I'm thirsty as fuck", Nancy exclaimed.
"Me too... how about you get us some drinks? You know where the vending machine is. You know our favorites. Your treat. Oh, and you can get yourself something, too. Isn't that nice?"

 

[Alan23]

There were sometimes, Brooke reflected, good days. When the clique that made it their business to torment her would let her off simply with forcing her to buy them drinks. Oh, they'd be a bit of cruel teasing too, referencing her problem, deliberately designed to humiliate her. None of this was good, but compared to the things they did on "bad" days... ripping off her skirt, pulling down her knickers, hanging her on the hooks in the cloak room... these days were at least relatively good.

To a great extent It depended, she knew, on herself. If she managed to get to the drinks machine and back fast enough, and got every order absolutely right, they might give her a break. Brooke was by no means a fast runner, but she gave it her all, her stuck-thin legs flashing like pistons as she hurtled across the playing fields between the gym and the school grounds, her previously neatly tucked school shirt now flapping in the breeze and her tights bagging at the ankles as her frantic pace disarranged everything.

There was, however, a payoff for such haste. As she hurtled into the school dining room where the machine was situated she saw she had managed to beat the rush and there was no queue. Quickly she covered the last few yards, the coins ready in her hand. If she could just get back in time...

"Hang on there," came a voice behind her.

Brooke turned to see the arrogant face of Alicia Summers, one of the girls in her own year, who had arrived a few seconds behind her. Though by no means a member of the group that regularly bullied Brooke, Alicia was not above helping out in a rush if circumstances suited.

"Oh, hello, Alicia," said Brooke, her voice squeaky with nervousness. You never knew... how Alicia behaved always depended on her moods. "I was j-j-just going to get a few dr -"

"You pushed in," said Alicia, softly, yet confidently "Out of y way - I'm thirsty."

"B-B-But I was first," protested Brooke, before suddenly realizing how little good the assertion might do. Whatever the rights of it, she was well aware, might would always triumph.

"Well now you're second," said Alicia, still calmly, yet with the merest tinge of menace n her voice. "You planning to act sensibly, or would you sooner take the consequences"

A giggle sounded from the small knot of girls who were lounging around generally shewing the fat. To see someone else bullied was always good fun. And Brooke got bullied more than the rest of them put together.

Brooke sighed, and, squirming with humiliation at yet again having to publicly back down, stood back with a whispered "Sorry, Alicia."

*****

By the time Alicia had deliberately lingered over her choice, Brooke was (according to Nancy's expensive watch) two minutes later than she should be.

"I think," said Layla, popping the top of her Coke, "that some form of disciplinary action might be called for here. What do you think, Nance"

 

[Anasyrma]

"Hmm..." Nancy narrowed her eyes, thinking. This was usually a very bad sign for Brooke, because when Nancy started to give a fuck, the result was almost always something devious.
"Hey. I know", she began, finally. "Nerd. You haven't started your drink yet. ... let's say, if you can chug it in one go, you get out of your punishment. ... wait, no. We can do better."
Finn looked at her with a hopeful expression - since if they were gonna do something humiliating to Brooke, he got to execute it. Of course, he'd much rather cop a feel of Layla or Nancy, but with them gently rebuffing his advances time and time again, he was increasingly fine with settling on letting his hands wander over Brooke's body.

His hopes were rewarded.
"The other way around", Nancy declared, and nodded to Layla, who immediately understood and grinned before ordering Finn about: "Skirt."
He knew what they wanted, and was practiced with it. In one swift movement, his hands hooked into the waistband of Brooke's skirt - getting tantalizingly close to her panties, and coming in contact with her hips - and pulled it all the way down, quickly forcing her feet out of it. He waived his prize in the air like a flag, as he liked to do.

"That's your punishment. Chug your drink in one go, and you get your skirt back. If you don't do it properly... you'll have to get yourself another drink and try again. Or you just go to class without!" Layla flashed a wicked smile. They had played these kind of games with their victim before. She managed to get her skirt back often enough. This was by design. She needed to have some hope that she could succeed, else she'd just cut her losses, and that would be no fun at all.

 

[Alan23]

Brooke gasped in shock as she felt the rush of cold air on her now naked flesh, telling her that once again, her skirt had come off. Why she gasped she had no idea - the Layla/Nancy clique had de-skirted her enough times in the past one might have thought she was used to it by now.

Her reactions were otherwise predictable. Her hands flew to the hem of her school shirt as she tugged it rapidly and sharply down at the front, then at the rear, then at the front again, then the sides, her hands a blur as she attempted to wrestle as much length from the garment as she could. A forlorn hope, for there was no way it could possible have covered the humiliating expanse of voluminous dark-blue panty Finn's theft of her skirt had revealed. Her face instantly colored a deep crimson at her plight.

"Please..." she pleaded, helplessly. Another action as fruitless as her attempt to cover herself. The clique, she knew of old, were immune to please for mercy. "Please... everyone's looking." Her eyes were brimming with tears. "C-Can't I have my skirt b-b-back then have the drink"

"You know the rules," giggled Layla, "that would be cheating."

"B-B-But... I..." Brooke sighed. She had always known attempting to appeal to Layla's better side was pointless. Resignedly she reached for the can of drink she ahd discarded.

For various reasons - which, as this narrative unfolds will become clear - Brooke tended to limit her intake of liquid at school, or indeed any time when she was away from home. And in particular, when she did drink, tended to consume the beverage as slowly and delicately as possible. This time, however, she had no choice in the matter. With an impending sense of helpless doom she grabbed the can, lifted it to her lips, flung back her head and began to swallow the liquid, pleading to some unknown deity or personification of fate that this time the inevitable result might not happen.

But deep down inside she knew this was as hopless as pleading for mercy from Nancy of Layla.

"Quick now," Nancy giggled, "if you pause half way through it doesn't count!"

 

[Anasyrma]

Nobody was really privy to the exact details about Brooke's embarrassing 'condition'. Most just thought she had a weak bladder in general, some painting it as her own fault for being 'too weak', with some teachers drawing the unfavorable conclusion that she was simply careless about how much she drank and didn't use her breaks for the bathroom, thus being extremely strict about not granting her emergency bathroom breaks during lessons.

So Layla and Nancy didn't exactly know what would make her have an accident, but they sure knew that filling up her bladder would be a great start. So they watched with glee as Brooke tried her best to down the can in one go, struggling a lot along the way. Struggling... and succeeding?
The very moment the can stopped touching her lips, Layla snatched it from her, turning it over and shaking it, but not a single drop came out.
"Well, I'll be damned. You fulfilled your punishment", she declared with a grimace, disappointment in her voice. The onlookers that gathered in the meantime also made slightly disappointed noises, they had hoped for more of a show.

"Your punishment, part one", Nancy declared with a smirk, which turned the mood around again, deflating any kind of relief Brooke might have felt.
"I gave you my punishment challenge, yeah, but you need to do Layla's challenge, too. Duh!"
"Thanks for the reminder, Nance."

With an amused expression, Layla watched Brooke's feeble attempts at covering her undies with her shirt by pulling it down. How boring! She wanted none of that. Blushing a little herself, she issued her challenge, the notion of exposing that girl tended to get the sadistic bully going:
"Since I wanna be kind to you for a change, the only thing I wanna see is a handstand. You can do a handstand, right? Tell you what, if you're having trouble, Finn will hold your legs! He'll even pull them up into position. Anyone can do a handstand like that."

 

[Alan23]

Being anything but athletic, Brooke would not normally have attempted a handstand under normal circumstances, and particularly at this precise moment when, though it covered very little, at least her school shirt was providing a tiny amount of modesty. Then, too, there was another even more worrying thought. That to attempt such a maneuver on a full bladder might put a strain upon her ability to control her "little problem" that no amount of will-power or muscle clenching could counter.

She was well aware, however, that choice did not come into the situation. Not for the first time she inwardly cursed the innate cowardice and lack of confidence that made her such a magnet for the school's bullies in general, and Layla and Nancy' gang in particular. If only, she lamented inwardly for the thousandth time, she could turn on one of her tormentors... it need not even be Nancy or Layla, any of the hangers-on would do - and bitch-slap them into leaving her alone. The others would not join in, she knew... even among the gangs there were rules... but she also knew that any of the girls, in fact even those much younger than her, could beat her in a fight without even raising a sweat, and that only even further humiliation could result from such a scheme.

"All right," she said, her voice barely articulate from shame, "I'll... I'll need some help, I think."

Finn received this news with a jolt of pleasure that shot up his spine. Sure, he would have referred to be groping Nancy, Layla, or one of the other girls, but this way he'd at least get to touch Brooke. He was at an age when to be able to gain contact with female flesh of any kind, even the ankles, was gratifying. He stepped forward, ready to fulfill his enjoyable duty of "ankle-holder." A huge boner was already beginning to form under his pants.

Most girls of Brooke's age night have been able to make at least some fist of a handstand, but her frail limbs meant that even had she not been so nervous she might have found it difficult. After a few seconds of jeering as she desperately attempted to kick up her legs, Nancy snapped her multi-colored nails - she wore each one in a different shade, the seven colors of the rainbow along with white, black and pink - and Fin stepped forward and grabbed Brooke's stick-thin ankles.

With a grunt he hefted the legs, and extended his arms upwards until the handstand was achieved.

The small effort immediately bore fruit, for the hem of her shirt fell downwards toward her armpits, exposing her tiny breasts encased in a soft pink bra. Brooke blushed realizing what she was showing.

"Fucking hell," giggled Layla, reading the label of the bra, "28AA! My brother's got bigger ones than hers!"

 

[Anasyrma]

The laughter was starting up all around Brooke now. In her current position, she was too disoriented to really tell how many people were around her and watching by now, their sounds of ridicule amplifying their real number in her mind.

Finn was holding her very securely and taking some of the pressure off her arms, she had to give him that. For a very short moment, she had a bit of respect for him, but that feeling evaporated instantly when he stepped a little closer to her, and she could feel something stiff poke her in the back through his pants. He was having a real good time already - and the real show hadn't even started yet, as Brooke would find out.

Layla knelt down in front of her, grinning from ear to ear and taking in all the details of her embarrassing assets, or lack there-of. Brooke was completely helpless to her touching her bra, poking it.
"Such a cute color! I love it. But, like... do you even need one? Pretty fucking useless without having actual tits. What do you think, Nancy?"
"She doesn't need one. It makes no difference."
"It's decided, then!"
The manicured fingernails tickle on Brooke's skin, as they find their behind her back, and before she even realized that the fingers were fiddling with the hook of her bra, it was already coming off. The whole thing slid down her arms with them still being in the straps.

"So tiny!" Brooke hears some other girl exclaim. "Nothing to play with! Boo!", some boy shouts.
Layla disagrees. "There's plenty to play with!" With the blush on her cheeks deepening a little, Layla mapped out what little boob there was with her thumbs, rubbing the tender flesh, then singling in on the nipples, caressing and squeezing them in an effort to make them hard.
There was a small moment of reprieve for Brooke, when Layla stood up.
Only for things to get worse once again.

The fingers poked an even more intimate area. Her panties. Right on her labia. And between. Trying to feel her pussy through the fabric. Layla groped her most intimate spot, having great fun, though suddenly she seemed unamused. Something wasn't right. That's not just fabric in-between her fingers and that nerds pussy. A bush couldn't be that thick, right?
Curious, she saw something white stick out slightly at the top (right now, the bottom) of the panties. She pulled on it, producing a folded up tissue.
"What the fuck? Wait..." It didn't take long for her and the audience to piece it together, to great amusement.
"Oh my god. Are you planning to pee your panties? If you're committing to it, just wear diapers, for crying out loud!"

 

[Alan23]

Layla's having drawn attention to the folded tissue caused a general outpouring of mirth from the rest of the clique. As she extracted it, followed by another, and another, and anther, the splutterings of helpless laughter grew further and further in intensity. This was not merely a single sheet of tissue paper, inserted as an aid to hygiene but, the clique now saw, a huge wad, stuffed into the relevant orifice and held in place by the gusset of Brooke's panties.

Brooke had thought that in her present position, upside down, with the hem of her skirt falling down and exposing her knickers, and her shirt in a similar situation showing her tiny bra to the world... that things could not possibly have become any worse. To think this, she now realized, had served only to tempt fate. For things had become worse... much, much worse.

Her secret was out.

Are you planning to pee your panties? If you're committing to it, just wear diapers, for crying out loud!

At this incredulous exclamation from Kaitlyn, one of the lesser members of the clique, Brooke felt an even greater wave of mortification suffuse her being.

"D-D-Don't be ridiculous," she managed to stammer out, making a desperate attempt to salvage what tiny part of her dignity she could with a lie, "I don't n-n-need those things, for goodness sake. I j-j-just... I..." A sudden desperate gambit suddenly popped into her mind, "I... shaved myself... down there, yesterday, and it's a b-bit... like, prickly. My panties keep rubbing on it."

For the briefest of seconds, Brooke felt that she might have got away with it. But her sense of relative triumph was short-lived indeed.

"You shaved" asked Layla... well, it would be Layla. "Hey, let's have a look!"

"NNNNNNNNNNOOOOO!" screamed Brooke, as Layla grabbed hold of the waistband of the panties and jerked it upwards, up along Brooke's upturned thighs, revealing the victim's pubes in all their glory.

"Don't look shaved to me," giggled Nancy.

"Nice and smooth inside, though," added Finn, exploring the area with a finger.

"Please... no... no... I'm begging you... please..." whimpered Brooke.

"YUK!" spat out Finn, hastily jerking his exploratory finger away, and shaking it, to a background of the laughter of the rest of the clique, "it's fucking wet up there!"

"Maybe you got her horny," chuckled Mandy, another of the hangers-on. She was known among the clique as "Randy Mandy," though this was more for the purpose of not letting a good rhyme go to waste than anything, for Layla was far randier than Mandy would have known how to be! "You made her all wet."

"That's not love-juice," snickered Sara, another of the clique, a girl with particularly sensitive nostrils, "I can smell it. That's... piss!"

Unlike many elderly people who suffer from such conditions, Brooke's "little problem" was not caused by physical stress or muscular weakness. If not for her innate lack of athleticism she could probably have performed gymnastic feats as well as any girl her age with no subsequent, as the advertisements might put it, "leakage." As her parents had been assured on more than one occasion by the various urological specialists they had taken her to, her over-active bladder was purely and simply a product of emotional stress.

And she was, beyond doubt, emotionally stressed right now. It wa sonly the phenomenon of gravity that prevented the outpourings of her bladder forming a lake on the ground. Instead, it had welled up and spilled, like too much liquid poured into a cup, over brimming and cascading down her stomach, down her midriff and under the cups of her bra, watched by the fascinated eyes of her tormentors.