Chapter 27: Gangbang Glorification
The cafeteria’s fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glare on the clattering trays and laminated tables. Mark pushed a limp french fry through a puddle of ketchup, his appetite gone. He stared at his sister, Jenny, who was practically vibrating in her seat, her pink and blonde pigtails bouncing with every animated gesture.
“And then, like, all five of them came on my face at the same time!” Jenny giggled, the sound too loud and sharp for the space. She twirled a strand of pink hair around her finger. “It was, like, totally magical! I felt so… covered. ♥” Her tiny, pleated skirt, a strip of black and pink tartan, rode high up her thighs, revealing the lace tops of her fishnet stockings.
Mark felt the food in his stomach curdle. “Jenny, what the hell are you talking about? Five guys? When did this happen? Why are you even here?”
“I transferred, silly!” she chirped, leaning forward so her low-cut top gaped. “My old school was, like, so boring. The guys here are way more fun. I’m gonna switch my major to, like, Communications or something. You know, something sluts study.” She said the word with a proud, definitive nod.
Across from him, Amy sucked noisily on a cherry lollipop, her expression one of approval. She was a vision of calculated indecency. A black lace choker with a small silver bow tight around her throat. A push-up bra, its intricate lace pattern visible beneath her sheer mesh top, hoisted her breasts into obscene, rounded mounds. Her shorts were so minuscule that the full, smooth curve of both her ass cheeks rested directly on the hard plastic of the cafeteria chair, the fabric doing little more than framing the flesh. She’d had work done; the proportions were too perfect, too exaggerated. The old Amy, the one who wore band t-shirts and talked about quantum physics, was a ghost.
“Jenny, that’s not funny,” Mark said, his voice tight. “That’s… that’s assault. You need to talk to someone. You need help.”
“Oh my god, Mark, stop being such a buzzkill,” Amy said, pulling the lollipop from her mouth with a pop. “She’s exploring her sexuality. It’s, like, empowering.” She reached over and patted Jenny’s hand. “It sounds amazing, Jen. I’m so jealous.”
“I know, right?” Jenny beamed. “Chad said I was a natural.”
Mark’s head snapped up. “Chad? Chad was there?” His eyes darted between his sister’s blissful face and his girlfriend’s placid one. A cold dread began to pool in his gut. “Amy? What does Chad have to do with this?”
Amy’s eyes widened with practiced innocence. “Mark, baby, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know anything about that. I was with you last night, remember? We watched that documentary.” She gave him a soft, reassuring smile, the same one she used whenever his suspicions crept in. “You’re always so paranoid about Chad. He’s just a guy from my chem class. I think you’re, like, projecting your own insecurities onto him.”
The gaslighting was smooth, effortless. It left him disoriented, doubting his own memory. Had he been with her? The details of the previous night were fuzzy, overshadowed by the nagging worry that had become his constant companion.
“But… your clothes,” he stammered, gesturing weakly at her exposed ass. “You never used to dress like this. And you’re always at the library, but your grades are slipping. What’s going on, Amy? Please, just talk to me.”
Amy’s smile didn’t falter, but a flicker of impatience crossed her eyes. “It’s called having confidence, Mark. I’m finally comfortable in my own skin. And I’ve been super stressed with midterms, that’s all. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. You’re my sweet, nerdy boyfriend.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I love you. Only you. You know that, right?”
Her words were a balm and a poison. They soothed the immediate panic while deepening the core of his confusion. She sounded so sincere. She looked him right in the eye.
Jenny, oblivious to the tension, sighed happily. “I can’t wait to get my own place near campus. Somewhere with, like, easy access for parties. And big bathrooms.” She winked at Amy, a secret, filthy understanding passing between them.
Mark looked at the two most important women in his life. One, his fiercely independent sister, now giddy about being a gangbang participant. The other, the love of his life, who had slowly molded herself into a parody of a porn star and looked at him with lying eyes. The cafeteria noises—the clatter, the chatter, the squeak of sneakers on linoleum—seemed to recede, replaced by a roaring in his ears. He was adrift in a sea of their lies, and the shore was nowhere in sight.
He opened his mouth to speak, to demand the truth, but the words died in his throat. Amy’s hand found his under the table, her fingers lacing with his. The touch felt like a brand. A claim. A prison.
“It’s okay, baby,” she murmured, her thumb stroking his palm. “Everything’s okay. You just worry too much.”