I Did All the Work - May/June Community Contest

[ExploreHer]

Teaser: Every fucking group project. Every time. I did all the work. I did the research. I did the stupid fucking PowerPoints. I made the bibliography. I wrote paragraph after paragraph.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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This story is part of the May/June Contest - viewtopic.php?p=12856#p12856
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Title: I Did All the Work
Author: ExploreHer
Content Warnings: College student is drugged.
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I of course don't condone anything in this story. But I, probably like many of you, know the frustration of doing all the work in a group project.
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I Did All the Work

Every fucking group project. Every time. I did all the work. I did the research. I did the stupid fucking PowerPoints. I made the bibliography. I wrote paragraph after paragraph.

I was in History 103 - North American Cultural Dynamics and Politics. What a bullshit fucking class title. It was a bunch of horseshit. But it covered a gen-ed requirement so I signed up. Just like every other person there.

We were assigned to groups of three for this project. “Analysis of American Political Parties” or something. It wasn’t hard - it was just tedious. Especially because I did all the work. My partners for that project were Marvin and Alison. Like me, Marvin was a sophomore only there for the credits. Alison, on the other hand, was a freshman. Eager. She said he even wanted to study history one day, maybe as a professor. What a fucking joke. History professors teaching history to other history professors. Useless.

But she was cute. Petite. Brunette. 5 foot 2 inches. Skinny. Had to be A cups. Flat stomach. Weighed probably nothing. She always wore sweatpants, which, even though they were baggy, somehow accentuated that tight little ass even more. Sometimes her panties even snuck a peek out of the waistband. Her bra strap always was visible under her tank top.

I asked her out to go see the new Wolverine movie. She said no. Fucking bitch.

I did all the work. I researched the history of the Democratic Party. I researched the history of the Republican Party. The fucking Whigs and whoever else. All of it so fucking useless.

I asked a friend, Anthony, for some pills for a fun night. If I can even call him a friend. More like somewhere between and acquaintance and a dealer. But sometimes we played Call of Duty together.

I sent a message to Alison and Marvin. I told them the project was done, in our shared folder, and they should look at it.

Instead, Alison just submitted it. She even rearranged the names to put hers first. Fucking bitch.

I asked Alison to meet up in the dorm common area. I said I wanted to go over the citations in case the professor questioned anything. She agreed. I didn’t invite Marvin.

When Alison arrived, she was wearing the same grey sweatpants she usually wore. The same skin-tight black tank top she usually wore. And the same pink bra strap sticking out.

I offered her a bottle of water. I already had one. She agreed. She did not notice the seal was broken.

I explained my frustration with her lack of effort. I explained I didn’t like that she put her name first. “Alphabetical order,” she said smugly. Fucking bitch.

But she was cute. Brunette hair tied back in a pony tail. Skinny face, great feminine jaw line.

She looked just like so many whores I’d watched in porn. Every day. Every one the same as every other. All just whores, selling themselves for money. Each one tried to be unique, but they’re not. They spread their legs for money and let men fuck their face.

Just like Alison had probably done a dozen times. A hundred times. Who knows. Girls these days were all sluts. But Alison got paid in a school project instead of money.

Alison took another swig from the water bottle. Almost finished. She hadn’t said anything about the taste, so Anthony must have been right. No flavor. No smell.

I told Alison I did all the work for the project. Her eyes, those big puppy dog eyes oversized for her skinny frame, started to glaze over.

So I kept doing all of the work. I carried her to my room.

I put her down on the bed. I rolled her onto her back.

I untied and pulled off her shoes. I pulled off her socks. Dark blue nail polish - nice.

I unbuttoned her pants. I lifted her light hips to slide them down over her legs. I wrestled with her ankles to get them off.

I grabbed her light blue panties. Cotton. A thong - nice. I pulled them down.

Shaved bare - nice. Just a hint of her inner lips peeking out from behind her puffy pussy. Maybe she wasn’t the slut I had accused her of being. Not that it mattered.

I pulled her torso up to an almost seated position. I slid her black tank top up over her chest. Over her shoulders. Over her head. Off of her arms.

I grabbed her pink bra. Definitely A cups, I was right. Again. Of course I was. I unclasped it. I slid it forward over her shoulders.

Pink nipples - nice.

I tossed her back onto the bed. There she was. Out cold. Spread for my observation. For my enjoyment.

I turned on all the lights. Nobody likes a shitty phone video or picture blurry and noisy. I want good shit.

I took picture after picture. I lined my cock up with her mouth. I rubbed it on her face. I opened her jaw. I pushed it into her cheek.

I held the camera. I changed the angle. I moved her body. I moved her arms. I moved her legs. I held her lips open. Both sets.

I spit on her cunt. I got her wet. She couldn’t even do that.

I pushed inside her. I pulled out and pushed back in farther. I rocked back and forth while holding the camera. That’s not fucking easy. I care about the quality of my work.

I sucked her nipples. I licked them and pulled them.

I inhaled her thong.

I pumped faster. I tensed. I held it. And held it. And held it.

I released. I held fast while my cock pulsed. I felt her warmth. I felt my own power over her.

I pulled out. I watched my seed drip from her.

I spread her legs further. I reached inside her and scooped some out. I rubbed it along her slit to make for a better picture.

I lifted her legs. I slid her thong back down and hiked it up her tight ass. The same for her sweatpants.

I again lifted her torso to replace her bra. I took one last grab of her tits before I clasped it behind her back.

I pulled her tank top over her head.

I put on her socks. I put on her shoes.

I picked her up. I carried her back to the common room. I laid her down on a stained couch.

I went back to my own room and took out my computer. I uploaded the images to my private folders.

I did all the work.

End of story.
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I hope you enjoyed this, and I hope all of you actually have good partners for projects!

[Shocker]

I‘ll do a proper rating if the story once all entries are in and up to three after the contest.

I really liked the story, the teaser and opening immediately communicated what mood the narrator is in and triggered ideas on what the story will be about. God job there.

Good use of the themes. There is one minor nitpick, as the narrator undresses his victim there is a certain repetitiveness in the use if “nice”. And that might be a perfectly apt description of her body. Just as a thought experiment, wouldn’t the narrator getting more and more excited as he reveals more of her body? Sometimes that kind of excitement can be communicated in increasing use of superlatives or depending on the mindset of the protagonist a shift in language. Such as going from detached to crude .

Just something to think about.

[ExploreHer]

@Shocker thanks!

I considered more nuanced descriptions, and it’s for sure reasonable. My thought was more that the narrator is just so angry and frustrated that he’s almost dismissive.

Like, those parts of her body are “nice” but they don’t actually change his mood or intent or the way he sees her as an object and a mooch.

So “nice” is intended to be more along the lines of “about time” or “finally did something right” if that makes sense.

[RapeU]

I think this story would have benefited from being longer. It's currently at 1,100 words and to me reads like a rough draft skeleton of a story that could be between 2,000 and 3,000 words. The narrator being angry the whole time is spot on, but Allison reads as just someone who is doing minor inconveniences. The story would be superb with the reader given reasons to absolutely hate Allison. For example, have Allison steal a pet and have it taken to the animal shelter to be euthanized. Or you could have gone the other way and added in more details involving sex with her unconscious.

[ExploreHer]

@RapeU Thanks! I agree it certainly could have been longer and more detailed.

My theory was it was almost a mechanical hatred, rather than a thrill or even particularly focused. Kind of an incel-vibe. Which would lend itself to more detail of the sex and her body for sure.