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featuring a special character of hers.","writing":"Gretchen hated the mole staring back at her. That frazzled short brunette headfur covering one eye, with a green clip keeping her other eye clear. Stupid little mole with wider hips and a chubby little gut. The fat couldn't even have the decency to move up to her breasts. Instead of fat tits to better be bound, whipped, and prodded, she had small mounds. On a bad day, she'd call them mosquito bites, but they were bigger than that. \n\n``You're an ugly little slut.'' She said to the mole. The girl quivered, spreading her legs and reaching down to toy with her cunny. Gretchen heard the moist insertion of that finger. Shuddering, she bit her lip and continued, ``You're not good enough for a real relationship, even if you had a person you liked. No...you...'' Her breath became haggard, struggling to speak as her legs grew weaker, ``You deserve to be raped in a bathroom. Then have a collar locked around your neck by the very same sick bastard and paraded around like a prize. But you wouldn't even be a good prize. You'd look ten times better if they just locked a hood around your face a threw away the-fuck!'' She squealed, bracing her hand against the mirror to hold herself steady as her orgasm dripped down her legs. Pulling her hand out, the mole watched the juices glisten against her shaking fingertips. Tentatively, she lapped at her own juices, cleaning it off while imagining someone else's hand on her lips. \n\nGretchen's alarm broke the mole from her trance. Tumbling through the mess of a room, she swiftly hit the snooze button, falling back into bed face first for another five minutes. She knew she should have been sleeping well before this. Being the last day of school didn't mean she needed to go tired. But the urge to abuse herself woke her, and lately she'd been fighting that urge less and less. After all, it made her feel...not happy but something. Satisfaction after so many other things had failed to give it to her. The mole, for all intents and purposes, had a good life. A healthy middle-income homelife, acceptance to her first-choice college, and while she didn't have any friends offline, there were plenty of people to speak to online. Sure that wasn't perfect, but nothing could be perfect. Least of all her, the pathetic little cuntjuice taster that she was.\n\nDid she even need to go today? It was only high school graduation, nothing that important nowadays when everyone pushes to college. She shook her head, sighing in distaste as the alarm rang again and she turned it off for good. Not attending meant not graduating, and she needed to graduate. Just a boring day of no schoolwork, leaving herself alone as everyone hung out with their friends while she...an idea popped into her mind. She blushed, burying her head into her pillow at the thought. There's nowhere she could do it. It'd be too risky.\n\nBut this was the last time she'd see a lot of these people. She didn't share any social media with them, so it's not like she'd be haunted by them. Biting her lip, she reached under her bed and pulled out a box of soft hemp rope. \n\n``Only the best for a whore like you.'' She muttered to herself.\n\n***\n\nShe found it hard to breathe without giving a haggard breath. The mole girl stepped carefully throughout the school, trying her hardest to look normal despite the ropes she tied under her clothes. Gretchen made sure to stay inconspicuous, wearing heavy grey sweatpants and a dark green hoodie with a large pink shirt underneath. Nothing to let anyone really see the ropes that clung so tight against her body. Sure, she looked like a bum at a glance, but most people ignored her anyways so it never mattered much. \n\nDespite being the last `official' day of school, there were no classes or anything academic to worry about. Everyone acted like they were on one big massive free period, walking about the halls with their friends, laughing, joking, some crying with that they'll probably not talk much in separate colleges, and others lying to each other saying they would. \n\nIt shouldn't have bothered her. Gretchen never really did talk with her classmates. But something in the back of her mind gnawed at her. Seeing everyone sign each other's yearbooks, hanging together and laughing. Her mother told her that she'd only get one highschool experience, and she spent it being antisocial. \n\n``Hey GG.'' \n\nGretchen looked up from her cushion, seeing Sally Anderson, an old bully, staring down at her. The mole bit her lip, remembering all the mean things the poodle said to her back in middle school and early high school years. Things that had her secretly dripping. More than once Gretchen had the preppy popular girl as part of her fantasies, though she stopped when Sally started avoiding her. The poodle smiled, not in that sadistic way she remembered but in a warm and almost disturbing way. Then she frowned, ``Sorry, old habits, I didn't mean to call you by that old nickname. You're not that grumpy anymore.''\n\nThe mole blinked, ``Pardon?''\n\n``I mean, a girl as smart as you knew what GG stood for right?''\n\nShe nodded, Grumpy Gretchen was a namesake she was fine with burying, ``No, not that. I mean, why are you here?''\n\n``Why?'' Sally looked around, ``Well, we're all signing yearbooks and I didn't see anyone signing yours. So I wanted to sign yours and...well...'' Sally blushed, scratching her puffy white headfur, ``I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch early on in knowing you. I was having a rough home life and...well that's in the past. I just don't want to leave highschool with regrets, ya know?''\n\nBeing stunned would be an understatement. An apology? From Sally Anderson? The same girl who got everyone in the class to call her `Grumpy Gretchen' for an entire year? She...she couldn't just apologize like that. Could she? The mole remembered every little issue, every moment Sally made her life hell, and every orgasm she gave herself afterward from it. Her face turned bright red under her fur, ``S-Sure.'' She stuttered out, handing her yearbook over to the prissy poodle. \n\nSally traded hers over, ``Great! Please sign mine too.'' She asked. Hands shaking, Gretchen took the yearbook and a pen. Flipping through the pages, she found several people had already signed it. Some giving hearts for the dots, some with poor cursive, and others with little words of encouragement. Not know what to write, Gretchen just copied one of the other signatures, giving a scribbled heart as a period. \n\nThe poodle couldn't actually be writing anything encouraging. This had to be one last final insult, a permanent stain on her yearbook that Gretchen could look back on year after year. The ropes felt tighter, her breathing constrained and heavy. ``Are you alright?'' Sally asked, handing the book back to the mole, ``Do you need to see the nurse?''\n\n``No. Thanks. Later.'' She muttered in haste, grabbing the book and rushing over to the bathroom. The crotchrope dug deeper with every quick step, with only the thin barrier of her underwear shielding her. Though from the intensity, Gretchen swore it did the opposite. Within arm's reach of the bathroom, she collided with a solid mass of flesh and fur, sending her near toppling to the floor.\n\n``Are you alright?'' Someone asked in worry. Gretchen recognized that voice, and looked up to see her science teacher Mr. Franklin, a big gutted boar with wide glasses and arms befitting a lifter than a teacher. He looked down with concern.\n\n``F-fine,'' She muttered, picking herself up, ``Just need to use the bathroom is all.''\n\n``Oh.'' He stepped back, ``By all means, please do.''\n\nShe locked herself in a stall immediately, ropes tugging tight against her with each pant of air. Her hands shook with the yearbook in hand, filled with only one signature. What degrading little thing could Sally have written? The humiliating jeers and taunts of her bully, and maybe other students if she crawled on all fours like a feral and begged them to sign her pathetically empty yearbook. \n\nHer lips quivered so fast she bit them to steady. Slut, whore, nerdy little muffeater, failed dyke cocksucker, so many slurs to describe herself. Checking under the other stalls and finding herself alone, the mole reached down her sweatpants and tightly grabbed the rope running through her crotch. \n\n``Perverted little freak.'' She imagined Sally saying. Closing her eyes, Gretchen found herself in the hallway, naked save for those ropes binding her breasts and crotch so deliciously tight, and a collar locked painfully around her neck. Every breath a reminder of her place. She tugged at her crotchrope, tugged it before Sally and the passing students, letting them watch. Some laughed, some looked in disgust, all mocked her.\n\n``God you're hopeless.'' The fantasy poodle chuckled, crossing her arms and staring down at the panting mess. ``It's a public place yet you're just toying with yourself like some feral in heat. Do you even have a sense of decency or were you born broken?''\n\nGretchen held her moans at the cruel words. If anyone caught her now, her life was over. Sure she'd already graduate, but her college would deny her after hearing her little public bathroom tugging. She pulled harder, grinding the rope against her moist cunt. Her other hand reached for her face, imagining Sally painfully gripping it and pulling her headfur back. That perfect cheerleading queen bee, spitting on the mole's worthless face and laughing.\n\nMr. Franklins appeared in her mind. Slowly unbuttoning his shirt with a gleam shimmering off his glasses. With a sadistic glare, he pulled out his cock, letting it flop before her, casting a shadow over her face. Thick and musky, she felt herself gagging. Pulling her ropes tighter, she dreamed him batting that rod across her face, hardening with each strike and leaving pre staining her cheeks. She didn't deserve a clean cock. No, a perverted little slut like her deserved whatever they gave her.\n\nFully erect, the boar pulled at her leash, dragging her maw against his sweaty balls and up his shaft. In her peripheral and teary gaze, she saw Sally and the students pull out their smartphones. Each laughing with every new picture, every detail to be shared around the web and cast her from the bin of society forever. The boar cock pushed past her lips, almost unhinging her jaw with every inch. Her gags and cries meant nothing, and with both hands he grabbed her hair. Fingertips dug into her skull, and her ramed his cock down her throat. Her body went limp, screams silenced with his balls slamming against her chin.\n\n``Choke on it!'' Someone in the crowd cheered, ``Make her blackout!'' Cried another. More and more insults echoed in her mind as her imaginary assailant skullfucked her mercilessly. They'd form a line soon, each boy with his cock out and every girl with her panties aside. All deserving their time with the school hole. \n\nGretchen's body shuddered in orgasm. Biting her lip to silence herself and holding the toilet paper roller for steadiness, the mole girl convulsed as pleasure erupted through her body. Her panties and the ropes against her were drenched, with small drops hitting the water beneath her. She sat there for an eternity for her, but only a few minutes to reality, letting her climax was over her before the guilt hit her. \n\nShe'd gone too far. \n\nTears formed in her eyes but she dare not make noise. At home it was fine. Fine to have these fucked up little fantasies and moan into her pillow. But this wasn't her home. This wasn't her safe space where she could put a dildo on a body pillow or mirror and pretend it was her master. She was in school, with ropes tied tight around her like some kind of freak while every normal person sat around laughing and enjoying themselves. \n\n``I am a freak...'' She muttered to herself, this time finding no pleasure in the term. Wiping her hands clean with a patch of toilet paper, Gretchen pulled out the yearbook to find Sally's signature. To her surprise, there was a note.\n\n`Gretchen, I was always jealous of you and I'll admit it was a big reason why I used to bully you. I've been too afraid to admit it in person. But maybe...if you'd like to hang out some time in the summer, or keep in contact, we could do that? I'll leave my number with you. You're great, and don't let people tell you otherwise!'\n\nShe blinked. Then again and a third time as she reread the message and the number. Was this some sort of joke? This number couldn't be Sally's, it had to be of some kind of pizza place or joke hotline. But if it was...the mole stared at her phone, fingers hovering over the blank contact she just made. \n\nWith a sigh, she put it away. Not like she had freetime to chat this summer. Not with her camp plans.\n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Gretchen hated the mole staring back at her. That frazzled short brunette headfur covering one eye, with a green clip keeping her other eye clear. Stupid little mole with wider hips and a chubby little gut. The fat couldn't even have the decency to move up to her breasts. Instead of fat tits to better be bound, whipped, and prodded, she had small mounds. On a bad day, she'd call them mosquito bites, but they were bigger than that.

``You're an ugly little slut.'' She said to the mole. The girl quivered, spreading her legs and reaching down to toy with her cunny. Gretchen heard the moist insertion of that finger. Shuddering, she bit her lip and continued, ``You're not good enough for a real relationship, even if you had a person you liked. No...you...'' Her breath became haggard, struggling to speak as her legs grew weaker, ``You deserve to be raped in a bathroom. Then have a collar locked around your neck by the very same sick bastard and paraded around like a prize. But you wouldn't even be a good prize. You'd look ten times better if they just locked a hood around your face a threw away the-fuck!'' She squealed, bracing her hand against the mirror to hold herself steady as her orgasm dripped down her legs. Pulling her hand out, the mole watched the juices glisten against her shaking fingertips. Tentatively, she lapped at her own juices, cleaning it off while imagining someone else's hand on her lips.

Gretchen's alarm broke the mole from her trance. Tumbling through the mess of a room, she swiftly hit the snooze button, falling back into bed face first for another five minutes. She knew she should have been sleeping well before this. Being the last day of school didn't mean she needed to go tired. But the urge to abuse herself woke her, and lately she'd been fighting that urge less and less. After all, it made her feel...not happy but something. Satisfaction after so many other things had failed to give it to her. The mole, for all intents and purposes, had a good life. A healthy middle-income homelife, acceptance to her first-choice college, and while she didn't have any friends offline, there were plenty of people to speak to online. Sure that wasn't perfect, but nothing could be perfect. Least of all her, the pathetic little cuntjuice taster that she was.

Did she even need to go today? It was only high school graduation, nothing that important nowadays when everyone pushes to college. She shook her head, sighing in distaste as the alarm rang again and she turned it off for good. Not attending meant not graduating, and she needed to graduate. Just a boring day of no schoolwork, leaving herself alone as everyone hung out with their friends while she...an idea popped into her mind. She blushed, burying her head into her pillow at the thought. There's nowhere she could do it. It'd be too risky.

But this was the last time she'd see a lot of these people. She didn't share any social media with them, so it's not like she'd be haunted by them. Biting her lip, she reached under her bed and pulled out a box of soft hemp rope.

``Only the best for a whore like you.'' She muttered to herself.

***

She found it hard to breathe without giving a haggard breath. The mole girl stepped carefully throughout the school, trying her hardest to look normal despite the ropes she tied under her clothes. Gretchen made sure to stay inconspicuous, wearing heavy grey sweatpants and a dark green hoodie with a large pink shirt underneath. Nothing to let anyone really see the ropes that clung so tight against her body. Sure, she looked like a bum at a glance, but most people ignored her anyways so it never mattered much.

Despite being the last `official' day of school, there were no classes or anything academic to worry about. Everyone acted like they were on one big massive free period, walking about the halls with their friends, laughing, joking, some crying with that they'll probably not talk much in separate colleges, and others lying to each other saying they would.

It shouldn't have bothered her. Gretchen never really did talk with her classmates. But something in the back of her mind gnawed at her. Seeing everyone sign each other's yearbooks, hanging together and laughing. Her mother told her that she'd only get one highschool experience, and she spent it being antisocial.

``Hey GG.''

Gretchen looked up from her cushion, seeing Sally Anderson, an old bully, staring down at her. The mole bit her lip, remembering all the mean things the poodle said to her back in middle school and early high school years. Things that had her secretly dripping. More than once Gretchen had the preppy popular girl as part of her fantasies, though she stopped when Sally started avoiding her. The poodle smiled, not in that sadistic way she remembered but in a warm and almost disturbing way. Then she frowned, ``Sorry, old habits, I didn't mean to call you by that old nickname. You're not that grumpy anymore.''

The mole blinked, ``Pardon?''

``I mean, a girl as smart as you knew what GG stood for right?''

She nodded, Grumpy Gretchen was a namesake she was fine with burying, ``No, not that. I mean, why are you here?''

``Why?'' Sally looked around, ``Well, we're all signing yearbooks and I didn't see anyone signing yours. So I wanted to sign yours and...well...'' Sally blushed, scratching her puffy white headfur, ``I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch early on in knowing you. I was having a rough home life and...well that's in the past. I just don't want to leave highschool with regrets, ya know?''

Being stunned would be an understatement. An apology? From Sally Anderson? The same girl who got everyone in the class to call her `Grumpy Gretchen' for an entire year? She...she couldn't just apologize like that. Could she? The mole remembered every little issue, every moment Sally made her life hell, and every orgasm she gave herself afterward from it. Her face turned bright red under her fur, ``S-Sure.'' She stuttered out, handing her yearbook over to the prissy poodle.

Sally traded hers over, ``Great! Please sign mine too.'' She asked. Hands shaking, Gretchen took the yearbook and a pen. Flipping through the pages, she found several people had already signed it. Some giving hearts for the dots, some with poor cursive, and others with little words of encouragement. Not know what to write, Gretchen just copied one of the other signatures, giving a scribbled heart as a period.

The poodle couldn't actually be writing anything encouraging. This had to be one last final insult, a permanent stain on her yearbook that Gretchen could look back on year after year. The ropes felt tighter, her breathing constrained and heavy. ``Are you alright?'' Sally asked, handing the book back to the mole, ``Do you need to see the nurse?''

``No. Thanks. Later.'' She muttered in haste, grabbing the book and rushing over to the bathroom. The crotchrope dug deeper with every quick step, with only the thin barrier of her underwear shielding her. Though from the intensity, Gretchen swore it did the opposite. Within arm's reach of the bathroom, she collided with a solid mass of flesh and fur, sending her near toppling to the floor.

``Are you alright?'' Someone asked in worry. Gretchen recognized that voice, and looked up to see her science teacher Mr. Franklin, a big gutted boar with wide glasses and arms befitting a lifter than a teacher. He looked down with concern.

``F-fine,'' She muttered, picking herself up, ``Just need to use the bathroom is all.''

``Oh.'' He stepped back, ``By all means, please do.''

She locked herself in a stall immediately, ropes tugging tight against her with each pant of air. Her hands shook with the yearbook in hand, filled with only one signature. What degrading little thing could Sally have written? The humiliating jeers and taunts of her bully, and maybe other students if she crawled on all fours like a feral and begged them to sign her pathetically empty yearbook.

Her lips quivered so fast she bit them to steady. Slut, whore, nerdy little muffeater, failed dyke cocksucker, so many slurs to describe herself. Checking under the other stalls and finding herself alone, the mole reached down her sweatpants and tightly grabbed the rope running through her crotch.

``Perverted little freak.'' She imagined Sally saying. Closing her eyes, Gretchen found herself in the hallway, naked save for those ropes binding her breasts and crotch so deliciously tight, and a collar locked painfully around her neck. Every breath a reminder of her place. She tugged at her crotchrope, tugged it before Sally and the passing students, letting them watch. Some laughed, some looked in disgust, all mocked her.

``God you're hopeless.'' The fantasy poodle chuckled, crossing her arms and staring down at the panting mess. ``It's a public place yet you're just toying with yourself like some feral in heat. Do you even have a sense of decency or were you born broken?''

Gretchen held her moans at the cruel words. If anyone caught her now, her life was over. Sure she'd already graduate, but her college would deny her after hearing her little public bathroom tugging. She pulled harder, grinding the rope against her moist cunt. Her other hand reached for her face, imagining Sally painfully gripping it and pulling her headfur back. That perfect cheerleading queen bee, spitting on the mole's worthless face and laughing.

Mr. Franklins appeared in her mind. Slowly unbuttoning his shirt with a gleam shimmering off his glasses. With a sadistic glare, he pulled out his cock, letting it flop before her, casting a shadow over her face. Thick and musky, she felt herself gagging. Pulling her ropes tighter, she dreamed him batting that rod across her face, hardening with each strike and leaving pre staining her cheeks. She didn't deserve a clean cock. No, a perverted little slut like her deserved whatever they gave her.

Fully erect, the boar pulled at her leash, dragging her maw against his sweaty balls and up his shaft. In her peripheral and teary gaze, she saw Sally and the students pull out their smartphones. Each laughing with every new picture, every detail to be shared around the web and cast her from the bin of society forever. The boar cock pushed past her lips, almost unhinging her jaw with every inch. Her gags and cries meant nothing, and with both hands he grabbed her hair. Fingertips dug into her skull, and her ramed his cock down her throat. Her body went limp, screams silenced with his balls slamming against her chin.

``Choke on it!'' Someone in the crowd cheered, ``Make her blackout!'' Cried another. More and more insults echoed in her mind as her imaginary assailant skullfucked her mercilessly. They'd form a line soon, each boy with his cock out and every girl with her panties aside. All deserving their time with the school hole.

Gretchen's body shuddered in orgasm. Biting her lip to silence herself and holding the toilet paper roller for steadiness, the mole girl convulsed as pleasure erupted through her body. Her panties and the ropes against her were drenched, with small drops hitting the water beneath her. She sat there for an eternity for her, but only a few minutes to reality, letting her climax was over her before the guilt hit her.

She'd gone too far.

Tears formed in her eyes but she dare not make noise. At home it was fine. Fine to have these fucked up little fantasies and moan into her pillow. But this wasn't her home. This wasn't her safe space where she could put a dildo on a body pillow or mirror and pretend it was her master. She was in school, with ropes tied tight around her like some kind of freak while every normal person sat around laughing and enjoying themselves.

``I am a freak...'' She muttered to herself, this time finding no pleasure in the term. Wiping her hands clean with a patch of toilet paper, Gretchen pulled out the yearbook to find Sally's signature. To her surprise, there was a note.

`Gretchen, I was always jealous of you and I'll admit it was a big reason why I used to bully you. I've been too afraid to admit it in person. But maybe...if you'd like to hang out some time in the summer, or keep in contact, we could do that? I'll leave my number with you. You're great, and don't let people tell you otherwise!'

She blinked. Then again and a third time as she reread the message and the number. Was this some sort of joke? This number couldn't be Sally's, it had to be of some kind of pizza place or joke hotline. But if it was...the mole stared at her phone, fingers hovering over the blank contact she just made.

With a sigh, she put it away. Not like she had freetime to chat this summer. Not with her camp plans.

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