Your nerves jump into your throat as you feel the bag get raised, and then you're jostled around as Sara storms out of the apartment with you inside it. "Stupid little fuck," you hear her growl as the apartment door slams. More jostling, and then you're thrown violently a short way before crashing against something, and a car door slams.
The engine starts, and you lie still for several minutes as Sara drives to her next destination. "Gonna teach that little bitch a fucking lesson," you hear her fume along the way. "How about I stick him in the microwave for half an hour? He'll be begging me to let him be a good little fuck toy when all his blood is boiling!"
You're more terrified than ever after hearing this, and simply curl into a ball with both your eyes shut as the car stops, the bag is grabbed again, and eventually you're thrown against another wall. This time, there's a metallic clang, and the unmistakable sound of a locker door slamming follows before you're left in silence.
After a few minutes, when your heart settles back down in your chest, you cautiously open up enough of the pocket's zipper that you can peek your head out and take a look. Unfortunately, you can tell right away that you're not going to be able to escape just yet. The locker's vents are not quite big enough for you to squeeze through, and there's nothing else to hide under inside this space beside the backpack and a hanging towel. Regretfully, you go back into the bag to wait, hoping for a better opportunity.
By some stroke of luck, that better opportunity comes. When Sara finally returns, what seems like ages later, you hear the locker door swing open rapidly, some rustling, and then it slams again. This time, when you look out, your view is blocked by a mountain of damp fabric, and you have to dig your way through layers of musky sweatpants and tank top before breaching the surface to see light flooding the locker - Sara had slammed the door too hard, so it bounced back without latching closed!
Seeing that the towel's gone, you realize Sara must have gone to shower, and you probably don't have much time with how furiously she'd been doing everything else, so you waste no time in scampering to the locker's edge and dropping to the ground. It's not too bad a fall, being little taller than you are, and you recover easily as your eyes adjust to the bright light, taking a look around. Shockingly, you realize that you're not alone!
Standing right over you, at just the next locker over, a tall, pale-skinned, extremely fit-looking woman who looks to be in her mid-twenties is getting dressed, pulling on a tight-fitting, short-sleeved shirt that just barely hangs low enough to cover her toned abs. Well, at least she's naturally pale-skinned. Most of her body, from what you can see, is covered in tattoos. Her dark hair falls just past her ear on her left side, with a buzz cut on the other. Piercings decorate her right ear and nose. Despite her aesthetic, though, she looks surprisingly relaxed and casual.
That is, until her head turns, and she looks at you in shock. Before you can even react, her bare right foot kicks out and stomps you into the cold tile floor, knocking you utterly senseless as you're hit with the power of a speeding freight truck. Unbearable pressure crushes you into the ground, and then the foot lifts up, with you stuck to the skin and rising with it.
"What the hell, this place has mice?" You hear a murmur that's part shock, part anger as the woman's foot turns upward, flipping you up towards the ceiling. You're still too stunned to move as the metal-studded face looms overhead, taking a good look at you. "No..." she mutters, brown eyes passing over your motionless, pain-racked body. "It's a... weird doll...? Must have fallen out of that angry girl's locker." She pauses for a moment, as if realizing something, and then snorts with amusement.
"Who brings their kink gear to the gym?" She chuckles. "I should just put it back, but she seems kind of bitchy. Maybe I'll just leave it so she knows I saw." This idea seems to entertain her.
Still struggling to catch your breath again, you realize you have to act fast if you want to get this woman's help, or risk getting locked up again the rest of with Sara's things in case she's feeling generous. This person looks and acts kind of rough, but that doesn't mean that she's a psychopath like Sara. With only moments to gain your bearings, you struggle to must breath and...
The engine starts, and you lie still for several minutes as Sara drives to her next destination. "Gonna teach that little bitch a fucking lesson," you hear her fume along the way. "How about I stick him in the microwave for half an hour? He'll be begging me to let him be a good little fuck toy when all his blood is boiling!"
You're more terrified than ever after hearing this, and simply curl into a ball with both your eyes shut as the car stops, the bag is grabbed again, and eventually you're thrown against another wall. This time, there's a metallic clang, and the unmistakable sound of a locker door slamming follows before you're left in silence.
After a few minutes, when your heart settles back down in your chest, you cautiously open up enough of the pocket's zipper that you can peek your head out and take a look. Unfortunately, you can tell right away that you're not going to be able to escape just yet. The locker's vents are not quite big enough for you to squeeze through, and there's nothing else to hide under inside this space beside the backpack and a hanging towel. Regretfully, you go back into the bag to wait, hoping for a better opportunity.
By some stroke of luck, that better opportunity comes. When Sara finally returns, what seems like ages later, you hear the locker door swing open rapidly, some rustling, and then it slams again. This time, when you look out, your view is blocked by a mountain of damp fabric, and you have to dig your way through layers of musky sweatpants and tank top before breaching the surface to see light flooding the locker - Sara had slammed the door too hard, so it bounced back without latching closed!
Seeing that the towel's gone, you realize Sara must have gone to shower, and you probably don't have much time with how furiously she'd been doing everything else, so you waste no time in scampering to the locker's edge and dropping to the ground. It's not too bad a fall, being little taller than you are, and you recover easily as your eyes adjust to the bright light, taking a look around. Shockingly, you realize that you're not alone!
Standing right over you, at just the next locker over, a tall, pale-skinned, extremely fit-looking woman who looks to be in her mid-twenties is getting dressed, pulling on a tight-fitting, short-sleeved shirt that just barely hangs low enough to cover her toned abs. Well, at least she's naturally pale-skinned. Most of her body, from what you can see, is covered in tattoos. Her dark hair falls just past her ear on her left side, with a buzz cut on the other. Piercings decorate her right ear and nose. Despite her aesthetic, though, she looks surprisingly relaxed and casual.
That is, until her head turns, and she looks at you in shock. Before you can even react, her bare right foot kicks out and stomps you into the cold tile floor, knocking you utterly senseless as you're hit with the power of a speeding freight truck. Unbearable pressure crushes you into the ground, and then the foot lifts up, with you stuck to the skin and rising with it.
"What the hell, this place has mice?" You hear a murmur that's part shock, part anger as the woman's foot turns upward, flipping you up towards the ceiling. You're still too stunned to move as the metal-studded face looms overhead, taking a good look at you. "No..." she mutters, brown eyes passing over your motionless, pain-racked body. "It's a... weird doll...? Must have fallen out of that angry girl's locker." She pauses for a moment, as if realizing something, and then snorts with amusement.
"Who brings their kink gear to the gym?" She chuckles. "I should just put it back, but she seems kind of bitchy. Maybe I'll just leave it so she knows I saw." This idea seems to entertain her.
Still struggling to catch your breath again, you realize you have to act fast if you want to get this woman's help, or risk getting locked up again the rest of with Sara's things in case she's feeling generous. This person looks and acts kind of rough, but that doesn't mean that she's a psychopath like Sara. With only moments to gain your bearings, you struggle to must breath and...
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August 17, 2023
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