Arty and Steph

This story is entirely fictional, any similarities to real events, persons, places, or actions is purely coincidental.

Further, all the characters portrayed in this story are eighteen years of age or older.

This is an independent work and the exclusive intellectual property of the author.

Arty stumbled back to his locker with a pile of books and trapper keepers that almost obscured his vision. He wasn't that tall nor strong and he was straining to carry them all. He had just come back from a study hall and only needed his supplies for English. He defogged his glasses, and struggled to complete the Tetris puzzle of putting his books away into his locker, which being quite disorganized was overstuffed. It at least kept him from being shoved inside his locker, he thought. He was going to be one of the last people to class, but figured his grade and otherwise sound attendance would protect him from any real consequences for being a few minutes late. He had just turned eighteen and he his early decision application to MIT had just been returned to him as the perfect birthday gift. He was to be pursuing a life of erudition and respect in the next year.

As the students cleared Arty noticed Steph, one of the most popular and attractive girls in the school, a tall cheerleader with smooth and bouncy brown hair and a perfect, toned, athletic body. She had the face of an angel with piercing blue eyes, Steph had amazing legs and an ample, although not particularly large bum. Steph's breasts were handful-sized as well. At eighteen, Steph was easily the regular fantasy girl of every male student and probably a few teachers too, she was looking forward to college the next year as well, however was just as excited for the parties and sorority life as Arty was for the intellectual and academic merits. She was dressed in her cheerleading uniform, as she had a practice after school that day.

Steph was in a seemingly romantic moment with Trent, a football player and one of the most muscular, tall, and popular guys on campus.

Trent was a bit of a muscle head, he had been held back a year for poor academic performance and was nineteen, although that did not stop him from playing football. Trent had seemed to almost be trapping Steph where she was telling her to stay with him for a little bit. Steph flirted and giggled, Arty watched while pretending to be looking for something, he was interested in how those so opposite him lived. He wished he had that kind of confidence with girls. He had the kind of confidence everyone else lacked in math or writing, but was years behind other guys in terms of romance.

What surprised him was that Steph suddenly kneed Trent in the balls, he clutched them and doubled over while she smiled and gingerly walked away from him, almost glowing with her empowerment. Arty was standing and pretending to fumble through his locker when he felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned around, it was Steph. She looked at him smiling and said "You're Arty, right?"

He clumsily replied, "Yes."

"Oh cool!" said Steph excitedly. She kneed him in the balls, hard.

Arty collapsed on the ground, he glasses falling next to him, as his brain coped with the intense pain, he only managed to gasp out one word, "Why?"

Steph stood with her hands on her hips admitting her handiwork, she was smiling and giggling a bit and once again seemed to have almost a glow around her, like a saint in Renaissance art. "Well, last week we had a party, a girl's party, and we have a bet as to who could kick the most boys in the balls by the end of the week, we keep it limited to one per boy. It's super empowering. If you mean why I kicked you harder than Trent...." She looked down the hall, Trent had left, "Trent's hot. I want his balls working for the weekend. As for a beta boy like you, I don't really care that much about the balls you don't use and wanted to see what I can do. Pretty strong, huh?"

Arty found out he had gotten an erection, and his penis wasn't the only thing swollen in his pants. He was turned on by the power in this vixen and felt honored. He felt inferior to her, and knew deep down he was. It felt natural, and like it was this goddess' natural right to hurt his manhood.

"Anyway, that was fun! Hey, a girl finally touched you down there, right? If we repeat the bet...better watch out," Steph punctuated her sentence with a mock-flirtatious wink.

Before Steph could walk away Arty said, "Wait!"

Steph pivoted to face him, "Thank you," said Arty.

Steph smiled, walked back to him and gently put his glasses on his face, and sweetly said, "Oh you're welcome sweetie!" The cheerleader lingered a bit and they made eye contact.

Steph and Arty shared a sort of understanding as to how lucky he was to be for her in any way possible, even if he was merely her victim, one she barely thought of as a person. She gently stomped on his swollen balls, causing Arty to wince in pain and his erection immediately grew and became quite noticeable. She smirked and walked away. The elegant beauty's hips swaying and her tight skirt shaking back and forth. She stood as a symbol of female dominance and triumph.

Arty was amazed by how turned on he was, he lay in a daze on the hallway floor and finally struggled to his feet, his erection had finally calmed down, he stumbled into class ten minutes late. He gave a clumsy response about his IBS, but the teacher did not accept it. He received his first detention that day. He didn't mind. He thought he would. Steph had given him that detention and he'd do anything for her and anything he received from her was from heaven itself. He could never rat her out. He was hoping she made that bet again.

The next week he was going to approach her first thing Monday morning and ask her to kick him. If she wanted to destroy one--or even both of his balls--he would allow it. His weaker body was to become her worthless plaything. He loved her and she could do whatever she wanted.

Arty wondered if his friends in the chess club and the band could feel the same way. He didn't dare ask. He knew who he was, and who Steph was, and that was good enough. She was superior to him and was like an empress, or even a goddess to his lowly self. He loved it.