“Hey Maia, I sent your ass a dick pic last night, did you feel it?”
“No, must have been too small.” She was used to the attention, the subtle side glances, the less subtle head-turns. Having to bring unwieldy breasts bigger than anyone’s mom’s at school was a daily show-and-tell Maia would have liked to live without. Her well-practiced walk minimized jiggling, but even the minimum was enough to turn boys into drooling dogs and send girls into unwarranted vengeful fits of jealousy.
The giggling, the whispers, the head-shakes, and especially the anal-related catcalling, that was new. Yesterday’s incident was still on everyone’s lips this morning, an incident involving two assholes.
The first asshole was Mr. Beardsley, an English teacher so bad at English, he didn’t know the difference between fear and respect, especially when it came to the girls in his class. Any minor transgression of his arbitrary, spur-of-the-moment rules had you bent over his knees with your skirt up and your panties around your ankles. Maia’s spanking sessions lasted the longest of all the girls and the teacher’s hand often lingered on her butt, sneaking in a squeeze or two between spanks while his power-trip bulge pushed against her squished breast.
Maia knew a cellphone in class was asking for a spanking (as if Mr. Beardsley couldn’t make up any bullshit reason whenever he felt like spanking her), but the illicit device was already hidden in her desk when the teacher announced his new rule that any phone found in class would be shoved up the offender’s ass. That was extreme even for him, but no one doubted he would follow through on the threat. And so Maia played it safe and didn’t reach for it when the recess bell rang with the intention of only retrieving her phone at the end of the day once Mr. Beardsley’s car had left the lot.
Her plan did not survive first contact with the enemy or the anonymous tip of a different, faceless enemy. Upon her return from break, Mr. Beardsley was waiting by her desk asking why he had found a phone inside.
“It’s not mine,” Maia had said. Keeping her anal virginity was well worth the price of a new iPhone given its size. But when confronted with the picture of her hugging Noodle, her cute Shih Tzu, in the background, she decided that pilling on additional lies was not worth the additional trouble she would be getting herself into, and so her panties found her ankles for the fifth time this morning.
She would have given anything for the pain of a few dozen slaps on her red throbbing peach instead of the profound discomfort of Mr. Beardsley’s fat finger penetrating her anus and rotating it around in her rectum to widen the rim like a rubber band. Inserting a 6-inch (diagonal) screen with a bulky case required a lot of anal tenderizing. Maia was already exhausted from internal screaming when he made the first phone penetration attempt.
As a personal victory no one else would appreciate, she had not cried, nor begged him to be more gentle as he pushed the camera corner of her phone against her tiny asshole while fish-hooking the rim vertically with two fingers. Her anus clamped on the phone width without more than a few moans and groans. She endured the warping rectum and the button protrusions scratching against her stretched rim, then pulled her skirt back over her ass when she was released and pulled up her panties. It was a careful and apprehensive descent of her bubbly butt onto the now immensely uncomfortable seat which pushed a pointy corner deeper against the deformed membrane of her rectum, deforming it further, but she was ready to pretend out of sight meant out of mind.
Maia clenched the edges of her desk at the first pulse of the first vibration. Her knuckles turned white when her phone received a second text. Someone else in class had a secret phone and her number spread like wildfire to all the secret phones in every class. It was non-stop notifications for the rest of the day, each of them sending a rectum-clenching jolt that spread through her crotch and up her spine. Most texters weren’t even there to watch her boobs jiggle as she squirmed on her chair, locking moans behind one hand and pushing her skirt against her pussy with the other to damper the disturbing vibrations quickly building up into a public orgasm. With more casualties than Maia could count, she fought a war against unwanted orgasms all day and all night until her battery finally ran out.
Today was a new day. An angular object turned out to be much easier to shove into an uncooperative asshole than to pull out between pinched fingers, so Maia still had a piece of plastic and metal the size of her hand poking both hip bones. But, she was determined to act too normal for people to know. Not a twitch of pain made it to her face when she confidently compressed her distended rectum against the seat of her chair.
“Good morning, everyone,” Mr. Beardsley was always in a good mood before pretending to be outraged over some spank-worthy behavior. “I hope you all learned from Maia’s mistake yesterday and I won’t have to waste another hour stretching buttholes.”
With perfect comedic timing, a phone rang from inside Maia’s desk.
“It’s not mine.”
“Talking without raising your hand? That’s a spanking, Maia, you know that. And you told the same lie about your phone yesterday. But it did turn out to be your phone, didn’t it? Come on, open your desk, let’s get this over with. I’m going to have to shove it even deeper in there until you learn your…” Few things could stop Mr. Beardsley in the middle of a ‘learn your lesson’ speech but an entire desk filled to the brim with phones will do it.
Without talking (because she had learned that lesson), Maia looked around the class with a tilted head and lazy eyes. Really, guys? There must have been over a hundred new and old generations under one lid. She raised her hand this time, just in case it needed to be said this was an obvious prank, but the teacher waved her off.
“I don’t need to hear your excuses, Maia. Clearly, you thought you could make a mockery of my discipline system and make me back down while everyone clapped, but I’ve got bad news for you. I have no problem spending the entire day shoving every single one of these phones up your butt.”
The victim of this prank tried to politely express a fraction of her outrage with her eyes alone but the big blues couldn’t open wide enough. So a pouting Maia, perched on the teacher’s knees with her panties around her ankles, was left scanning the room from smiling face to smiling face, trying to suss out the responsible party. Considering the number of phones involved, the entire school probably had a collective hand it in. Even her ass might have been part of the group text that organized it all.
“Was that your plan?” Mr. Beardsley exclaimed when his probing fingers touched the phone that had spent the last twenty hours inside her snug rectum. Then, as Maia yelped, he accomplished in one easy yank what she struggled and failed to do in hours of rectal poking: warping her anus and pulling out the phone. “To distract me from the real contraband phone you smuggled in your butt with these decoys? Good luck finding the real phone when I’m done with all of these.”
The classroom thought it was hilarious that Maia had acted like she no longer had a phone up her butt, no doubt speculating about her leaving it there as a sex toy. But the girl didn’t get a chance to glare at them for long. A phone, definitely not hers, given it was cold instead of body temperature, was fisted right up her ass in one implacable colon punch.
“Every noise you make is a day you’ll have to keep them inside you.”
The threat was noted but as much as Maia wanted to comply, staying silent while a thick man’s thick arm corkscrewed a large phone into your colon didn’t come naturally.
Mr. Beardsley was up to his elbow in a masticating ass when he opened his hand and pushed the phone around the colon’s transversal bend with the tip of his middle finger.
I couldn’t get it out when it was right at the entrance (why am I calling my ass an entrance?); how am I going to reach it now? Perhaps that was the point. Maia’s train of thought was interrupted by the feeling of being turned inside out like yesterday’s sock. Her anus released the meaty forearm with a loud wet suction sound that made all her classmates cringe in disgust. That sound played in reverse when the fist plowed through once again, carrying a new cold phone to push against the one that was already so deep. With so many to go, it made sense for Mr. Beardsley to keep the descending colon available for the last dozen.
Needless to say, several more days were added to Maia’s sentence with every new phone added to her digestive system.
Such a productive morning for her class. The lunch bell rang and the teacher was still shoving phones up Maia’s butt with tireless rhythm. Most of the students stayed during the break to watch Maia’s hypnotic butt swallow phone after phone, while others focused on the cleavage of her breasts pressed against Mr. Beardsley’s legs.
One particularly annoying student was counting out loud the number of phones that were being inserted. “78! 79!”
And an even more particularly annoying student was counting out loud the number of times Maia failed to vocally keep her discomfort in check so the teacher could keep track of how many days his punishment would last. “92! 93!” At least a few of these were caused by Maia’s frustration over the blatant bias; these boys had been allowed to speak 172 times without raising their hands.
“126!” The extra enthusiasm was thankfully attributed to this being the last phone.
“123!” Was the moan-counter’s final count. A ridiculous, unfeasible amount of days, but at least she had managed to slow the curve.
Maia’s once flat tummy was like the back of some weird tropical lizard, full of bumps from rounded corners rubbing uncomfortably against Mr. Beardlsey’s jeans. She tried to find the floor with her feet.
“Not so fast, Maia. I still owe you a spanking for speaking without raising your hand earlier.”
“She rolled her eyes, Sir.” Another example of male students being allowed to speak out of turn with impunity.
“Is that so? Then maybe I’ll have to spank her twice as hard for twice as long.”
There was only an hour left to the afternoon when Maia was allowed to sit her tender cushion and its tender hole on her chair. Her panties were still around one of her ankles but bending down to slide them up was not a realistic task at that moment. Her sore butt would have to endure one last torture in the warmth that Mr. Beardsley’s butt left behind.
She couldn’t concentrate on the subject the teacher was rushing through, lost in the braille reading of the bumps through her shirt. Spending the night in school on this chair sounded like a better plan than trying to walk to the buses in time like a hunchback, a hunchfront. The students had one more surprise in store for her. The moment Mr. Beardsley left class, everyone pulled out their secret phone to giggly send one-letter texts. Maia’s intestines lit up in a flurry of shaking motors as she did a spot-on impression of a felon’s last moments in the electric chair. There was now a video of her wetting herself from thirty different angles, videos that would come in useful once she was ready to piece together what happened after parts of her brain checked out, overwhelmed by the intensity of her orgasms.
A few people stopped texting to test if Maia had control over her spasming limbs. Except for the one hand abstractedly going to town on her pussy, they acted like salted slugs that wouldn’t do much to protect her breasts if someone was to, say, rip open her shirt to squeeze and massage the goods. Who would believe a moaning girl fingering her pantieless crotch between spread legs was against getting her nipples pinched and her boobs played with?
The nightmare didn’t completely die with the batteries the next morning. For the next 123 days, whenever Maia needed to go to the bathroom, Mr. Beardsley had to fish all the phones out of her ass only to shove them back in after her business. He was always glad to do it, and always found an excuse to spank her raw before and after.