TITLE    : The Sarah Owens Story Ch. 17
STORYID  : the-sarah-owens-story-ch-17
SUMMARY  : Sarah fills in for the school mascot--permanently.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2010-02-04
CATEGORY : bdsm-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |lion|lioness|mascot|high school|schoolgirl|cheerleader|spanking|lesbian|incest|transsexual|


<i>Note: This series is based upon an idea by Sarah Owens. The characters are 18 years old or older.</i>



* * *



The nationals championship competition was only a month away, and, were the squad to win, the cheerleaders had to be prepared, Coach Bigg decreed, to put even more time and effort into their practice than they already were doing.



"Count upon being here as late as nine o'clock each night and all day on Saturday and Sunday," she announced. "If any of you is unable or--" she glared at Sarah, as if she were reading the blonde's mind--"unwilling to give me your all--and I do mean your all--let me know, here and now."



Sarah was grateful that she'd told her father about her dreams of her being sexual with him and that, after his initial disgust and reluctance to participate in her fantasies, he'd done so, as much to alleviate the loneliness and lack of intimacy in his own life--Marlene, his wife (and now Sarah's rival) agreed to have sex with him only once a week, at most--and he and Sarah were now secret lovers.



Since becoming her father's girlfriend, Sarah had told him everything, keeping no secrets. She'd told him of Coach Bigg's verbal, physical, and sexual assaults upon her and the other girls; of the coach's use of the spanking machine known as The Carousel; of the coach's constant and continuous humiliation of her in an attempt to break her spirit; of the coach's demand that the girls pair off as lesbian lovers; of her lovemaking sessions with Marilyn--if BDSM games between her, as the submissive partner, and Marilyn, as the dominatrix, could be counted as lovemaking; of the lesbian orgy in which the cheerleaders had indulged at Marilyn's sleepover; of her threesome with Marilyn and their transsexual squad member, Amanda Meeks; and even of how, a year or so ago, she'd masturbated one boy and had sucked another guy's cock.



Her father had listened attentively, but without the frowning, judgmental attitude he'd have displayed--before beating her bottom bloody--before he'd committed incest with his own daughter, becoming Sarah's lover as well as her father. Now that Max, as she'd come to call her dad, had committed a dire sexual sin himself, with her as his accomplice, he couldn't maintain his hypocritical censure of activities similar to--and maybe not as bad--as his own sexual conduct. He'd merely listened, nodded, and said, at the conclusion of his daughter's confession, "You've certainly lived an active sex life, sweetie," and they'd kissed.



Before becoming her father's mistress, Sarah would have had to beg and plead and cry in an effort--and a probably futile effort, at that--to get him to extend cheerleading practice even for one night, let alone every night and all weekend for an entire month. Now, she'd merely had to ask--or mention--that she needed the extra time, and he'd immediately consented, without question or complaint.



Having her dad by the balls, both literally and figuratively, was as convenient, Sarah thought, as it was pleasant. It also had the effect of bringing them much closer together emotionally. Max had been stern, critical, and punitive before she'd become his mistress, but, now that they were lovers, her dad treated her with tenderness, compassion, consideration, respect, love, and passion. Incest was not at all the evil thing it was made out to be, she and her father had come to agree; it was pleasant and wonderful and sweet. In fact, it was hard for Sarah to tell which of her lovers--her girlfriend Marilyn or her boyfriend Max--she loved the best. It wasn't really a matter of "best," she'd decided. It was different, that's all, just different.



"Owens!"



"Yes, Coach?"



"Strip!"



Without hesitation, question, or complaint, the blonde doffed her uniform. Like the other girls on the squad, she'd been ordered to remove her clothing so many times now that it was nothing to do so, even in front of total strangers, like some of the guys on the boys' varsity football second-string team had been. Like the other cheerleaders, Sarah knew all the starting team members, and a couple had even asked her out on dates, both before and after Sarah had become a lesbian (after all, no one knew of her Sapphic streak but her fellow squad members, her coach, and, now, Max), but a few of the benchwarmers were just that--benchwarmers--to her. 



Even so, when the girls were ordered to strip in front of the entire team and to perform their so-called scissoring exercise, lying with their pubic mounds pressed against one another and bumping and grinding their labia, clits, and pussies against each another, Sarah hadn't felt the least bit embarrassed, although some of the other girls definitely had been mortified, if not traumatized, by the experience. By becoming Marilyn's pain slut and Coach Bigg's whipping girl, Sarah had moved way past being embarrassed by being naked--or even performing sexually--in front of others. Her lack of shame, she supposed, was one of the benefits of her having been singled out for Coach Bigg's "special" treatment. Her girlfriend, Marilyn, was the other. As far as Sarah could tell, there weren't any others.



"Get your sorry ass over here, Owens!" Coach Bigg bellowed.



The blonde cheerleader sprinted to the bovine coach's side.



There was a large cardboard box at the coach's feet. Taking a utility knife from a pocket in her shorts, the coach opened the blade, slid it along the heavy tape that sealed the top of the box, and opened the container. To the squad, she said, "Our school's mascot was struck by an automobile last night."



The girls looked at each other, shocked. Everyone knew Brad Barrows. A quiet guy, he was super nice, with clean-cut good looks, and a slender but athletic build. He wasn't quite fast or strong enough to make the football team's starting lineup, and unable to resign himself to warming the bench, he'd volunteered, two years ago, to be the school's mascot. As such, he attended all the sports events--not just the football, but the baseball, softball, tennis, swim, and basketball games and contests, too--as well as the band's functions. As such, he was one of the most popular guys in school.



"He's going to be all right," Coach Bigg reassured her squad, "but his healing will take time, and, with the nationals only a month away, time is something we don't have. Unfortunately, injuries and illnesses have sidelined players on the football and other teams. As a result, I have reluctantly decided that I must sacrifice one of you." She turned, looking at Sarah. "Owens, since you're the weak link on the squad, I've decided to sacrifice you." The coach's tone made it sound as if she meant what she said literally, and Sarah couldn't help but to sneak a peek at the razor-edged utility knife that the coach still held in her hand. "Take your costume out of the box."



As Sarah complied with the coach's direction, Amanda, alerted by a nod from their leader, left the squad and took her place, as assistant coach, alongside the hefty woman. "You've all seen the costume that Brad wore," Coach Bigg said. "It looked more suitable to Disneyland, in my opinion, than to a high school, so, with Principal Matthews' permission, I've had a few alterations to the design--in fact, I've tossed out the previous costume and replaced it with the one that Owens will be sporting as the school's new mascot. Owens, show the squad what you'll be wearing."



Frowning, Sarah removed the costume. Expecting something not too different from the cartoon-style lion's costume that Brad had worn, ridiculous but loveable, if a bit goofy, with a big head, a bulbous nose, wiry whiskers, triangular ears, huge paws, a thick mane, and a long tail ending in a preposterous puffball, she was surprised at the much more realistic suit inside the container.



"Amanda," Coach Bigg said, "assist Owens in suiting up."



"Yes, Coach." The transsexual assistant coach took the costume from the nude cheerleader. "Step into the legs, bitch," Amanda told Sarah.



Sarah obeyed, albeit she secretly resented the assistant coach's referring to her as a "bitch." After all, as a genetic girl, Sarah was more female than the shemale would ever be, no matter how many hormones Amanda took or how many surgical operations the transsexual underwent. As far as Sarah was concerned, Amanda would always be "a man, duh!"



The costume was all of a piece, with legs, sleeves, and a cowl-like mask. The legs and sleeves ended in padded paws, complete with claws, and a zipper, running the length of the back, was hidden in the lion's shaggy fur. There was no mane, so it was obviously a lioness, not a lion, costume. It was odd, though, Sarah thought, that no tail was attached to the costume. A female might not have as big a tassel at the end of her tail as her male counterpart possessed, but a lioness had a tasseled tail, nevertheless, and a costume as realistic as this one should include a tail, she thought. Not having one seemed to ruin the whole effect.



"Step into the hind legs, bitch," Amanda ordered.



After the cheerleader had complied with the assistant coach's directive, Amanda held the arms--or forelegs--up. "Slip your arms into the sleeves, bitch," she told Sarah.



The cheerleader did so.



"Get on your hands and knees, bitch."



Sarah obeyed Amanda's order. Looking down at the big paws that covered her hands gave Sarah an odd feeling. It seemed almost as if, by donning the costume, she was actually becoming a lioness. She found the idea somehow sexy, and a tremor shook her clit as her pussy moistened.



Drawing the sides of the costume tight, Amanda zipped the zipper in the back. Then, she reached under the cheerleader's upper body, through the circular cutouts in the chest of the costume, the presence of which Sarah had overlooked when she'd briefly inspected the suit, and, seizing Sarah's breasts, tugged and squeezed, until she'd managed to pull the blonde's boobs through the cutouts and the twin orbs hung free and clear of the tawny fabric that covered the rest of her--the rest of her, that is, except her buttocks, perineum, and pussy. Like her tits, these parts of Sarah's anatomy were left bare, thanks to an additional strategically placed cutout.



"Open your mouth, bitch," Amanda commanded.



Sarah did so.



"Wider, bitch!"



Sarah opened her mouth as wide as she could, and Amanda pushed a lioness muzzle gag, complete with whiskers, into place. The device was secured by a strap that Amanda fastened behind the blonde's head and by a ball at the end of a silicone prong that slid between Sarah's lips and into her mouth.



Lifting the hooded mask over Sarah's neck and head, Amanda drew it snug and fastened the Velcro strap beneath the cheerleader's chin, connecting either side of the tight hood to one another.



From the squad, Sarah heard one of her fellow cheerleaders sing, "I am woman; hear me roar!" It sounded like Marilyn's voice. The other squad members laughed. Sarah felt tears well up in her eyes. She hated being the butt of the other girls' jokes and jibes.



Sarah imagined that she must look very much like a lioness in her getup. She had the paws, the ears (attached to the hood), the whiskers and the snout--everything but the tail. Not including so essential a part of the animal was as odd, she thought, as including the cutouts for her breasts, buttocks, and vagina. To be as realistic as possible, her private parts should be covered and the costume should feature a tasseled tail. Maybe, she thought, the designer had omitted the tail to increase the mascot's mobility. Trailing a tail in one's wake as she attempted acrobatic stunts and cheers could hamper a girl's style, Sarah thought (although Brad's costume, as ludicrous and cartoon-like as it had been, had included a preposterous tail which ended in an oversize puffball, and it hadn't seemed to slow him down any.)



Amanda reached back inside the box, which Sarah had thought was empty, and removed something else, an item that the cheerleader, in retrieving the costume, had missed. The item was in a space at the bottom of the box, partitioned off by a flap that was nearly the same size as the bottom of the container itself. Amanda flipped the flap back, and took the item out of the concealed space.



It was the lioness' missing tail.



Beside it was a large tube of lubricant. Amanda removed it, too.



Squeezing the lotion from the tube, Amanda smeared the slick fluid between Sarah's buttocks, making sure that she applied a liberal amount of the lubricant to the blonde's asshole as well. Next, the assistant coach coated the bulbous, but tapering, butt plug to which the long, supple tail was attached. Sarah panicked as she realized what was in store for her, and she lunged forward, intent upon escaping the ordeal.



Amanda was upon her at once. Facing toward the cheerleader's ass, the assistant coach straddled the lioness, holding Sarah in place by firmly squeezing her waist with the sides of her knees.



"No!" Sarah protested, tears spilling from her eyes.



"Stay still, bitch!" Amanda commanded.



Sarah struggled to free herself, and Amanda slapped her bottom, hard. "Stop it, bitch!"



Sarah sobbed. "Leave me alone!"



Coach Bigg called, "Madison, assist the assistant coach!"



"Yes, ma'am," Sarah's traitorous girlfriend replied, hastening to Amanda's side. 



"Hold the bitch," Amanda said.



Marilyn helped to prevent Sarah from escaping.



Something hard, but sleek and slippery, slid between Sarah's buttocks, and the blonde sobbed again. "Please, don't!" she pleaded, as she realized that the butt plug was about to be inserted into her bottom.



"The plug anchors the tail inside your rectum, Owens," Coach Bigg explained--as if Sarah needed such elucidation.



"I don't want--" Sarah started to protest, but the coach cut her off.



"It's not about what you want, Owens!" Coach Bigg yelled. "It's about what's good for the squad. Haven't you figured that out yet?"



Although the mascot continued to struggle, Amanda, aided by Marilyn, inserted the plug. The tapered bulb forced Sarah's anus wider and wider until, suddenly, the sphincter overwhelmed, the plug shoved deep into Sarah's rectum, stretching the circle of her asshole to its own thick diameter. A handsome tail, three feet long and as thick as a heavy rope, but satiny and tawny, like the rest of the costume, trailed behind the human lioness.



"I am women; hear me roar!" the voice that had sung this line of the old Helen Reddy song sang again, and, coming as it did from the redhead beside her, there was no question whatsoever, this time, that the singer was Sarah's own girlfriend, Marilyn, who'd just helped the shemale bitch ram a huge plug up her butt!



Sarah felt her tears, heavy and warm, wash down her cheeks as the other girls on the squad chuckled and laughed--at her expense.



Her humiliation, she thought, was, at last, complete.



Of course, in reality, it was just beginning.

