Mega Tits 1

by DrkFetyshNyghts

  Nothing had gone over Hooter Tutors head. Nothing got past that woman – and she had often inwardly smiled at the fact the her HHG was making such progress. She laughed to herself also as she noticed a long time ago that Cheryl was enjoying her own kind of little domination games over the entire School population and indeed some of her own teachers. That wasn't a problem for Hooter Tutor. It added some variation to the mix. It added some mix into the variation and she liked that. But recently all was not well and Cheryl had become subdued and she had become withdrawn into herself. The change may have taken place over many weeks, or months because it seemed to have been so slow and gradual. It may have been happening some time before any of the other girls even noticed that something was wrong. What was a dead cert though was that, for the week or so before the tit tug-of-war contest she had become severely withdrawn within herself. Like as though it had all come on top of her. Actually it wasn't 'like' it had all come in on top of her, it had done just that. On one occasion Hooter Tutor had covertly observed one of the very younger girls cornering Head Hooter Girl in a lower basement corridor of the school – and then she had been pressed up against the wall as the much smaller girl had slipped her hands and fingers up Cheryl's skirt. Hooter Tutor had not intervened – she had simply watched smiling to herself as the girl's hand and fingers stayed up the skirt for a long time. It seemed more than the case that Cheryl did not have any fight left in her – it seemed that she was too preoccupied with something else that was happening in her mind. It was simply a fact that the fact that she was pressed up against the wall with a much younger girls fingers sliding in and out of her most intimate hole was something that she could not deal with right there and then and that she had something much more important, or vital in her mind that she had to deal with. It was like she was not in the there and then even though her breathing was forced to quicken as the fingering of her smooth hairless sex proceeded. Hooter Tutor had smiled. She had smiled not because of the scene, or because of the mystery of what was happening to Cheryl. The simple fact was that it was not a mystery to Hooter Tutor. She knew exactly what was going on. She smiled again as her Head Hooter Girl was now in the visible signs of breaking down. It had been after the fingering by the smaller, younger girl that Hooter Tutor had finally broke silence.

  “It was YOUR fault that Jugs failed her exams. It was YOUR fault that the good, quality name of this School was brought into disrepute. It was YOUR fault that we now have to work twice as hard in order to bring much needed funds and business to the school. It is YOUR fault that we are all having to work twice as hard. You were put in charge of Jugs and you plain and simple fucked up. There is no other way, or no other polite way that I can put it. It was YOUR fault. YOU fucked up and now we are all suffering. Word gets around. Hooter School never, but NEVER did failures – until now. But you were given the chance and you failed. You failed miserably. You failed Hooter School. You failed yourself. You failed ME. You even, in some kind of bizarre twist, failed Jugsalina. Now we are all paying for YOUR failure. All of us. The School. Me. Jugsalina is going to suffer for the rest of her natural life. But there is the question of YOU. And how YOU are going to make amends for this disastrous year that we have had. The plain simple fact Cheryl, because we only deal in plain simple facts here at Hooter School, the plain simple fact is that YOU are going to have to pay as well. You are going to have to pay dearly for the failure that you have procured. There is no way that you cannot pay and will not pay. I have actually already spoken to your 'owner' and, well a deed of sale has already gone through. I own your ass – your tits – your legs – your lips and your cunt now. The plain simple fact is that you are being reduced, eventually, to a place lower than Jugs. I didn't think that was possible, but having thought about it – having spoken to some people that I know and who have a vested interest – it is very possible that you can be taken to a place... well a place very different to that which Dorothea was taken to. And the place that she exists in now.”

  There was a remarkably controlled aggression to Hooter Tutor's voice – one would never be able to tell, not really from the tone of her voice that she was in fact seething with anger. The only slightest hint, was her use of more colourful language. The f word seemed to slip out from well educated, mature lips with ease and some eroticism. Cheryl had known even before being spoken to by Hooter Tutor that her number was up. She had known way before that little speech that she was being held responsible. That she was being the scapegoat – as if Hooter Tutor, or Hooter School needed scapegoats. It had been that slow and almost creeping realisation that teachers, and Hooter Tutor was talking behind her back – that little meetings and huddles that she had been part of before she was slowly squeezed out of, that had sent her into something of a decline. It was something that she knew but maybe hoped would blow over. At one time, Cheryl had even had designs on becoming a teacher at Hooter School herself. She had enjoyed the perversity and the control that she had over the other girls and some of the teachers and she had been getting on so well – she had been getting on well enough to think that she could 'work her way' into Hooter Tutors affections and become part of the school staff. She would certainly enjoy her 'work'. And then who knows, once she was in and proved herself – she might even one day own it all. Or get away from it all. One day she might just lap it all up and wallow in it. All she had to do, for the time being was go along with it. Enjoy the ride. That was the thing with this insidious thing that she was caught up with. The same as Jugsalina – that little voice, that little bit of her reasoning that all she had to do was go along with it all – that her time would come. She reasoned that it wasn't that bad for her – it could be worse – it could be like that Jugs creature – oh what a hard time she was having. Oh dear. But then she had somehow and for some reason got a soft spot for Jugs – and that had been the problem. It had all come in on top of her and now she was going to have to pay the ultimate price, it seemed.

  “Yeeeeeee haaaaaaaaa go go go go go go go go go go go go go.”

  The chant from the crowd as the tit tug of war began was almost hypnotic. Perfectly in time perfectly in rhythm. The sight was one to behold. Dorothea's forced to spread her severely arched feet wide on the floor, and before the weight was taken up, her rigged, bagged latex enshrouded jugs were touching the ground. It was a painful, painful trauma for her to even have to stand the way she was. Already her hooters had suffered so much. And yet, there again was that 'pained smile'. Anyone seeing that for the first time would get that smile but think that there was something odd about it – they would take a second look and then a third. But they wouldn't get it – not completely. Only Dorothea would 'feel' that the silktex hadn't been fully fooled. Only that stuff up inside her 'knew' that she wasn't completely and overwhelmingly positive about her situation and had squeezed and swelled up inside her to let her know that. Poor Dorothea had a lot to contend with – she was in agonies that she would never be able to describe. More to the point she was in agonies that she knew probably would never end. But even out of the darkness she was hearing that little voice coaxing her 'bide your time, you can get out of this, we can get out of this... just go along with it all'. It was probably that little voice from that little bit of herself that was left that urged her on to take up the slack of the elasticated cord. That cord lifting and then the hooters lifting. Cheryl a much more dignified sight – her own Amazonian status seemingly amplified in the arena that was the school gym. But there was that slight slump in her demeanour – one that was telling her that this contest was just the start of her downfall. This wasn't her platform to fame and fortune and even more power at all – this was marking the beginning of her demise proper. Just the beginning of her spiral downwards. She tugged back on the cord as well, her own rigs gripping and compressing her tits as the cord was lifted off the ground. She had never been humiliated in this way, not at Hooter School. And she knew that the other girls were talking now. She knew her days were numbered. She knew that the lit
tle bitch who had finger raped her in the lower corridor would have spread the word around, much like she had smeared her own juices under her nose after she had done that deed. On the face of it, Cheryl was younger and she was stronger and she was in a better 'place' than Dorothea was in, or had been in for some time. Jugs lost it on the mental state alone. But Cheryl was already diminishing in mind and so she had to make this move quickly. She had to put the effort into this contest and she had to win it. Both girls took their stances – Cheryl's was more sure footed and her quite gangly legs were splayed at the right width to support and balance her efforts. Her own bangers also were not so big, not so unwieldy or unmanageable as Jugs's. She sucked in air as she took up the slack and then sucked in air again as her hooters were squeezed and compressed. Cheryl had her hands behind her back as well, that was only fair after all but she was much, much more able on her feet than Dorothea. Jugsalina sucked in air herself and then she sobbed through a wide lipstick smile as the jigs compressed around the most monumental hooters at three keys parts. The contest itself was not a pretty one – and most of all it was not designed in such a way that there would be a winner. Both girls, some forty minutes later, ending up on their knees. Dorothea's smile still there, but also there were floods of squirting tears, from both girls as they looked somewhat forlornly at each other.

  Head Hooter Girl just looked. She didn't say anything she just looked. It seemed like for an age she just looked. She had already failed to win the tit tug of war – that had been 'billed' like as though she would walk it. It was taken that she was Head Hooter Girl, Top Girl, the unbeatable girl. But she had failed and she had failed miserably. Her downward spiral had begun already. The chants – those chants of the girls who had respected her so much were dissolving into hoots of derision as the contest had progressed. Dorothea had been rocky on her stiletto'd feet but she had stood up well. It could have been due to the fact that she wasn't used to so much pain travelling through the ducts and the veins and the very innards of her breasts – whereas Cheryl was not. Up to this point, her breasts had been just that 'breasts'. Breasts that all, including the teachers had looked up to, respected and even in some case lusted after. But she was Head Hooter Girl and so she had been untouchable really – she had been the one that they couldn't or wouldn't touch. But that had all changed and all of a sudden the focus was on her breasts – but in a different way. Her Breasts were becoming Hooters, and Bangers, and Fun Bags. There was a sliding scale of respect – and it was sliding nonstop to the bottom for Cheryl. All of a sudden she had the rigs on her jugs and then were compressing and pressing the tit meat and she wasn't used to that. She wasn't used to it at all. The first sign of such pressure and her knees had almost given way.

  Dorothea though, she could take it – she had taken it and a lot more besides. But she was taking it on top of a lot of other stuff that had happened and so the match was kind of evened out. But not really. Truth be known, Dorothea should have won, hands down, but she didn't. And neither did Cheryl. Neither of them won because they weren't supposed to win. They simply spent a good forty minutes or longer trying to pull each other's tits off and in the process, torturing themselves to excess. Cheryl had the good fortune, if it could be called that, not to have the silktex up inside her. She had heard rumours of some kind of alien thing that was up inside Dorothea and that made her smile all the time – but she didn't know if that was true, or not. There must have been something in it though because Jugs simply did smile constantly – even if she was sobbing her heart out because of what her bangers were going through there was still that smile. Fucking weird! It was a contest that was destined to be a no contest. Cheryl had been mortified as she had felt the rigs on her tits squeezing and squeezing and squeezing the way they did. She simply wasn't used to her breasts being treated that way. It brought to mind Dorothea's earlier days, the very early days at the hands of Wendy and the twins. What they had gone through – but even that, if Cheryl had known about it would not compare simply because Dorothea's nightmare had begun with an intense, mind shattering orgasm that would begin the mind melting process that wouldn't stop until it was all taken off her. This was different – Cheryl, Head Hooter Girl's demise was going straight via the abuse of her breasts. She was being taught a base lesson. Or she was going to be taught a base lesson and that lesson was going to begin with the reducing of her breasts in status. Not a reduction in size, but a reduction in status. Indeed there would be anything but a reduction in size. One could not help but believe that Head Hooter Girl Cheryl's breasts were going to become as epic, if not more so that Jugsalina's. It was just kind of on the cards that this would happen. Indeed all kinds of things were on the cards that might not even at this point even have been imagined. There were changes afoot.

  There were big changes in fortune about to occur at Hooter School. And these changes were kind of signalled with Head Hooter Girl on her knees having failed to win the tit tug of war and in floods of tears due to the humiliation, the degradation and not to mention the pain of her breasts. Not, at that point, that she knew what real, real pain was all about. She only had to look over, to the other end of the cord, at Dorothea, to see what real pain was all about. One look at that woman and her mammaries spread out like massive pools of tortured tit meat around her knees, and possibly Cheryl might have guessed or worked out what pain was all about – and she might have further worked out what the future held for her. Not worked out entirely what it held in store for her, but rather, the depth of the subjugation that she would suffer. No two journeys were the same, not at Hooter School. And the point was that she now belonged to Hooter Tutor, or Hooter School, or both - whatever. She had been sold like a piece of meat and she was also contending with that thought in her mind. Something, like a horror that she had never had to contend with. Even with all she had gone through with her step mother – even all of that and her being sent to Hooter School – she had thought that at some point, maybe when she got that little bit older, her fortunes would be reversed and she would get out of the mess she was in.

  In the event the 'mess' hadn't been that much of a mess and Cheryl had progressed well at the School and got the status and the position that could do her no harm in the long run. But now she had lost all of that. She didn't even belong to her dad and her step mum any more – she was a piece of property that belonged to Hooter Tutor. And, or she was an asset of the School, like a fixture or a fitting. It was all a bit much for her to take in. If it had been drip fed to her over a period of time she maybe could have coped with it much better. For instance, if she had been called to Hooter Tutors office and told that she was being held responsible for Jugs's failure and that she would be making amends in some way for that failure – then she could have had time to adjust, had time for the idea to sink in. But it didn't happen that way – it didn't happen that way at all. Yes she did get the feeling that something was happening, that she was being held responsible – but there was nothing definite and more than a few times the thought went through her mind that she was imagining it – it must all have been a figment of her imagination and that there was nothing wrong at all and it would all blow over. That was because she was not spoken to – she was not allowed to let things drip feed into her mind so that she could adapt. There was always that uncertainty – there was always that pure 'not knowing' what was happening or what would happen in the future. The immediate or the longer term. She didn't know, or couldn't know that what she was experiencing even at that very early stage was 'the way' it was. Nothing was an accident or bi-product. That very casual closing in around her, like the weight of the world on her shoulders, and the isolation and the creeping dread was all part of the way it was, deliberately.

  “W-what, what is this place? W-what is that stuff there? P-please tell me, please tell me what is happening?”

  Cheryl had stood for a long, long time not saying, or doing anything. She had clasped her hands in front of her and she had been thumbing her opposite palms, wiping
the sweat that had formed away. Every so often, her fingers had curled under the micro min hem that she was wearing and she subconsciously peeled her skirt up. That little peel of the skirt gave Hooter Tutor tantalising glimpses of HHG's upper thighs. She liked that did Hooter Tutor – she liked the bare pale thighs above the regulation stocking tops. At least they were regulation for Head Hooter Girl. Cheryl had been allowed input into her own uniform and there had been nothing but wry smiles as she had erred towards the sexual blasé. A uniform to attract sexual lust and deviance. One that enhanced her stupendously long legs and her top heavy build. A choice that was seriously coming back to haunt her. She was feeling anything but sexy at this moment. She had felt sexy and in control when she was able to push all the girls in the school around. But that seemed like an age ago. It seemed like another lifetime. It can have only been a matter of hours since she had had the full weight of the world put onto her shoulders in the form of having it spelt out, about how her future was going to change in a big way. About how she was now the property of Hooter Tutor and Hooter School and about how she was going to be made, forced to make amends for the failures of Jugsalina. And now she was in this place, a place in Hooter School that she didn't even know existed, nervously and insidiously curling her fingers and peeling her micro hem up, unaware that in her feeling non sexy, non in control, that she was feeding the sexuality of the Woman who would be controlling her, and her assets, for some time to come.