A Comedy of AR's

by: Sammderr | Story In Progress | Last updated Apr 19, 2024


Chapter 62
CHAPTER 162 .......... Empathy Day- Part Three - Amorcito


Chapter Description: 2 new pictures added 1/28/24 Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home


CHAPTER  162


“Derry, you’re so amazing.  I adore everything about you.   I’ll bet you have a beautiful labia majora.”

 

Then Billrock brushed up against my ear and whispered, “I want to put my penis in your vagina right now.”

 

There was nothing subtle about the methods in which I was being sexually harassed this morning.  I knew now that the last remark was not an idle threat.  These ‘new-boys’ had brought their own penises with them today and were well prepared to use them.

 

The only way I could escape from Billrock was to sprint in the opposite direction, away from Spanish class, and find a different route to the room.  So that’s what I did.

 

I made a sharp left turn at the next ‘cross’ hallway … but it seemed that I had been running a bit too fast.  When I made the turn I ran right into Sania Nutts, who today was operating under the moniker ‘Sanrock’.

 

When we collided, my books spilled out of my arms and onto the floor.  I thought maybe Sanrock would start punching me.  But no, ‘he’ immediately started helping me pick up my books and was very polite.

 

“Are you alright, Derry?  Sorry, that was quite a spill.”

 

“I’m fine, Sanrock, and it was my fault for running.  Thanks for your help.”

 

“Oh sure, my pleasure.  In fact, my heart skipped a beat when I ran into you just now.”

 

I smiled.  “Really?”

 

“You’re such a beautiful person … so kind and compassionate.  You’re so nice.  Your demeanor is so calming.  You always see the good in people.  I’m proud of you.”

 

Sanrock seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

 

“Uh … thanks,” I replied.  I wanted to restart my detour to Spanish class, but Sanrock grabbed my left wrist.

 

“Wait, Derry.  I just want to say hello to you.  I usually don’t get to do that most days.  You fill me with such joy.  It’s unreal how fascinating you are to me.  You’re not like the other girls … You’re such a sweetheart.”

 

I began tugging away from ‘him’.  “Uh, hum … Well, that’s very kind of you to say all those nice words, Sanrock, but I really need to be going now.  Can you please let go?”

 

But again, she said, “Wait, Derry … I’m not sure what’s happening between us, but whatever it is, I’m willing to take it slow if you are.  You should talk to me more often. I believe you’re my soulmate and I hope you can feel the same about me, too.”

 

I was having trouble escaping again.  “You’re right, Sanrock.  We can talk about these things later.”

 

Wearing a dress and pump shoes and a stuffed bra made me actually feel like the weaker sex.  Sanrock was nicer than Billrock, but she, too, was trying to keep me cornered against my will.

 

“Derry, normally I don’t go for small tits, but they make such a nice bust on a girl your size.  I have to tell you honestly that my feelings for you run very deep.  I would explain it to you in more detail now, but you’re a girl, so it might go over your head.”

 

I was getting really frustrated.  “Sanrock, please let go of me!  I have to get to class!”

 

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?  Do you like have a boyfriend or something?”

 

“No.”

 

“We don’t have to have sex, Derry.  We can just hold each other.  I think I’m falling in love with you … and I can’t help it.  Let’s ditch school now.  I’ll make it worth your while.”

 

This was getting complicated.  I had to create a diversion … and what came to mind was jumping up and down rapidly.

 

I squeaked out, “Oh!  Oh!  Oh!”

 

“What’s wrong, Derry?” asked a confused Sanrock.

 

I exclaimed, “I have ants in my panties!  Brush ‘em off!”

 

As soon as Sanrock let go of me to ‘brush’ off the imaginary ants, I bolted away … and ran to my Spanish class ‘as fast as my girlish legs could carry me.’  (And I didn’t trip in my pumps either.  I was getting good with that.)

 

I absolutely hate coming late to Spanish class.  I have personal pride in doing the right thing, but unfortunately, I blew it again.  The door wasn’t locked this time so I didn’t need to knock.  But as soon as I walked in, the entire group of classmates erupted.

 

“AMORCITO!!  AMORCITO!!”  they cried repeatedly as they pointed fingers in my direction.  (little love, little love)

 

Being the only seventh grader in the class often made me the target of the eighth graders’ hazing and harassment … only today they had a good reason.

 

I guess that strutting in with my pumps made me look like a desirably cute little girl.  But nobody else seemed to take the instructions seriously.  All the eighth grade boys (today, new-girls) must have collectively decided to treat ‘Empathy Day’ as a substitute for Halloween.

 

Their faces were horribly smeared with lipstick, makeup, and eye-shadow … but not in the right places.  They all looked like circus clowns, and everyone knows that clowns are evil.

 

The girls (new-boys) had gotten off easy with this assignment.  It was the same story … They looked like they were attending a tom-boy convention … plain and grungy, a poor excuse for masculinity, in my opinion.

 

And now I had to face Senorita Gato again, who would no doubt give me another detention, although after the last one, I didn’t anticipate any further sexual harassment from her.

 

“Lamento haber llegado tarde, professora.”  (I’m sorry for being late, teacher.)

 

She returned a surprise answer.  “Es no problemo, Diego.  Pero hoy, debes usar el nombre femenino, Diega.”  (It’s not a problem, Diego.  But today, you must use the feminine name, Diega.)

 

I happily agreed.  “Si, professora.  Mi nombre es Diega.”  (Yes, teacher.  My name is Diega.)

 

When I took my seat, my classmates continued to shout my name.

 

“Diega!  Diega!  Diega!  Diega!”

 

I never wanted to be the center of attention in this class.  But the ‘attention’ just sought me out whenever it could.

 

The instructor continued.  “Diega, Quiero que vengas el frente de la clase.”  (Diega, I want you to come to the front of the class.)  “Hoy es un dia muy especial.”  (Today is a very special day.)  “Quiero que le cuentes a la clase tus experiencias de nina.”  (I want you to tell the class of your experiences as a little girl.)

 

Well, I was cornered again.  After three episodes of sexual harassment from girls my own age, I now had to face 24 eighth graders who couldn’t wait to grill me.

 

When I walked forward, one of the new-boys already had a hand raised for a question.  I guess I had to play along and point to ‘him’.

 

“Diega, que te emociona de ser una nina?”  (Diega, what excites you about being a girl?)

 

Wow, it looks like I’ll have to ad-lib the first question.  This was not what I would have expected.

 

I began, “Podemos hacernos mas bonitas que los chicos.”  (We can make ourselves prettier than boys.)

 

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh,” the class responded approvingly, and with big smiles.

 

I continued, “Y olemos mejor que los chicos.”  (And we smell better than boys.)

 

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh,” repeated the class.  Some of the girls (new-boys) even clapped.  That made me feel more confident to continue.

 

“Y podemos salir de cualquier cosa culpando al PMS.”  (And we can get out of anything by blaming PMS.)

 

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh.”

 

(It seems I was imparting some words of wisdom to the attentive class.)

 

“Y llegamos a usar tacones altos.”  (And we can wear high heels.)  “Y cuando salimos, el chico tiene que pagar.”  (And when we go on dates, the boy has to pay.)

 

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh.”

 

I think that my classmates appreciated that I was actually taking the lesson seriously.

Now one of the new-girls raised ‘her’ hand.

 

“Diega, estas usando bragas?”  (Are you wearing panties?)

 

Uh oh, I didn’t like where this question was heading but I answered, “Si.”

 

“Podemos verlas por favor?”  (May we see them, please?)

 

I turned and checked with my instructor.  “Professora?”

 

She replied, “Si desea hacer esto, esta bien.”  (If you want to do it, it’s okay.)

 

Well, I didn’t exactly want to do it, but I had conflicting thoughts.  Maybe if I used this unusual opportunity to entertain the eighth graders, then maybe they wouldn’t hate me so much.

 

I turned around and flipped up the back of my dress for just a second, exposing my popular heart spangled panties.

 

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!  Es muy bonita!” a few students exclaimed.  (very pretty).

 

Another new-boy, intending to embarrass me, asked, “Diega, prefiere tampones o toallas sanitarias durante su menstruacion?”  (Do you prefer tampons or pads during your menstruation?)

 

The girls (new-boys) are always surprised that I know how to answer this.

 

“Los tampones me funcion mejor.”  (The tampons work better for me.)  “Pero tengo empujar el hilo hacia arriba para no orinar encima.”  (But I have to push the string up so that I don’t pee on it.)

 

Another new-boy asked, “Que odias de ser una chica?”  (What do you hate about being a girl?)

 

I answered, “Odio que las filas para los banos de ninas sean siempre tan largas.”  (I hate that the lines for the girl’s bathrooms are always so long.)  “Y odio me menstrucacion.”  (And I hate my period.)

 

“Y odio a los chicos que me acosan por sexo.”  (And I hate boys who harass me for sex.)

 

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” said the girls (new-boys), who could relate to my complaint.

 

“Y odio tener que afeitarse las piernas y el cono.”  (And I hate having to shave my legs and my pussy.)

 

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!!” shouted all the boys (new-girls).

 

“Diega, alguna vez tuviste sexo con un chico?”  (Did you ever have sex with a boy?)

 

“No, no, no,” I shook my head and answered emphatically. “Nunca.”  (never.)

 

“Alguna vez besaste a un chico?”  (Did you ever kiss a boy?)

 

This is where I figured, what the fuck, I might as well entertain them.  “Una vez, fui a una fiesta de chicos y chicas.”  (Once I went to a boy-girl party.)  “Y nosotras tuvimos que jugar siete minutos en el cielo.”  (And we had to play ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’.)

 

“Me emparejaron con un chico lindo.”  (They matched me up with a cute boy.)  “Y nos empujaron a un armario.  (And they pushed us into a closet.)

 

“Puse mi brazo alrededor de su cuello.”  (I put my arm around his neck.)  “Y comence a frotar la cremallera de sus pantalones.”   (And I began rubbing the zipper on his pants.)



 


 

End Chapter 62

A Comedy of AR's

by: Sammderr | Story In Progress | Last updated Apr 19, 2024

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