TITLE    : The Sarah Owens Story Ch. 18
STORYID  : the-sarah-owens-story-ch-18
SUMMARY  : Sarah gets uncomfortable in her new home away from home.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2010-02-05
CATEGORY : bdsm-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |18-year-old|cheerleader|catholic|schoolgirl|high school|spanking|mascot|transsexual|coach|humiliation|


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



* * *



"Bring out the cage," Coach Bigg ordered Amanda.



Cage? Sarah thought, her stomach queasy at the implication of the coach's words.



The other cheerleaders, looking on from the line in which they stood at the edge of the practice mat, exchanged whispers and giggles. Although Sarah suspected that their comments were not only directed at her, but were also likely to be of an unpleasant and even mean-spirited temper, she knew that, if she were among the other squad members, she'd also be whispering cruel remarks and laughing at whoever was in her place. Cheerleaders were often among the best-looking and most privileged girls in school, but, Sarah was honest enough to admit, they were also like piranhas, both with regard to outsiders and among themselves.



At Coach Bigg's command to retrieve the cage, Amanda had sprinted into the locker room; now, she returned to the gymnasium, pulling a cage upon a wagon. The conveyance was larger than a child's little red wagon, and it had a flat bed, rather than one that was ringed with sides. Upon the bed, a cage stood, composed of heavy wire mesh riveted to a steel frame. The front panel was a door, also of heavy wire mesh, which bore a hasp through which a combination padlock had been inserted. 



As the wagon rolled closer, Sarah saw that the floor of the cage was covered with a blanket. There were two bowls, one of which was filled with raw meat, the other with water. A big bone lay at the rear of the cage. Sarah hoped that it was plastic or rubber, but she feared that it might be the real deal.



When the wagon came to a halt, Coach Bigg told her assistant, "Put the lioness in her cage."



Amanda seized Sarah's left arm--or foreleg--in a tight grip. "Come on, bitch." She led the mascot to her new home away from home.



Sarah wanted to resist, but she knew that doing so was futile, and she let herself be led along, to the wagon.



"Get inside, bitch," Amanda demanded.



Dutifully, the blonde climbed into the enclosure. The cage was not high enough to allow her to do anything but squat, crouch, or kneel--and she could kneel only if she hunched over at the same time. The blanket provided a thin padding between her hands, knees, and toes and the wire floor, but not enough of a cushion to be comfortable. She could still feel the hard surface of the meshwork of metal that formed the floor, as it did the walls and ceiling, of her shelter. The cage was big enough for her to turn around in or to lie down in, as long as she assumed a fetal position in doing so. Its dimensions would prevent her from stretching out at length.



Sarah heard the slam of metal upon metal--a disheartening sound, if ever she'd heard one!--and then Amanda locked the door, imprisoning Sarah inside its close confines.



At once, the cheerleader felt panic flood her mind, and she felt, with good reason, as if she were an animal trapped inside a cage. She had nowhere to go. She couldn't as much as stand or even stretch out inside her prison. Moreover, she could be taken anywhere the wagon upon which her cage was stationed was rolled, and be made a spectacle of, with her buttocks, vagina, and breasts on display.



"I would eat soon, if I were you," Coach Bigg told the squad's captive. "The meat is sushi, which is nourishing and, some find, tasty, if eaten fresh, but it can be dangerous if it's eaten too late."



The coach's voice comforted the panicked girl, if only for the time being, and Sarah forced herself to relax, exhaling in long, deep breaths, as she thought of the food the coach had mentioned, welcoming the thought as a distraction from the suffocating sense of panic that had gripped her as soon as the door to her cage had been locked shut.



Sarah did feel hungry, especially now that the coach had mentioned food. She crept toward the bowl of raw meat, conscious of the hardness of the wire mesh beneath the blanket. In vain efforts to minimize the discomfort of crawling across the mesh, she made awkward movements, thereby earning another chorus of snickers and insulting jibes from her peers. At the bowl, she sniffed the raw fish. Her tummy rumbled. Sarah poked her nose into the bowl, but realized, in doing so, that there was no way that she could eat with her lower face, including her mouth, covered by the lioness muzzle.



Coach Bigg appeared at the front of the cage, alongside Amanda. "You want to eat, Owens, you do exactly what you're told, when you're told to do it, without question or complaint. Otherwise, as long as you're in costume, which will be most of the afternoon and evening and every weekend until the nationals, you starve. Got that?"



Sarah, unable to speak, with the ball gag in her mouth, nodded.



"Amanda will be kind enough to remove your muzzle long enough for you to eat and drink," Coach Bigg informed the captive.



The lock was removed from the hasp, and the door was swung open. Amanda blocked the entrance, though, as if she were concerned that Sarah might try to escape. "Put your head out, bitch," she told the lioness.



Sarah complied.



Amanda unfastened the Velcro strap under Sarah's chin, which held the hood together, tossed it back, over the mascot's blonde locks, and, reaching behind Sarah's head, unsnapped the leather band that kept the muzzle in place, letting the appliance drop into her hand. She set the muzzle aside.



With her face and head exposed, but wearing the realistic-looking lioness costume, Sarah seemed ludicrous, rather than captivating, and, again, her fellow squad members tittered and whispered about her. Ignoring them, Sarah poked her nose into the dish, sniffed the fish, and, her tummy rumbling, began to devour the sushi. It was good, and she found herself snatching it up by the mouthful, dribbling saliva into the bowl as she ate, swallowing almost without chewing. In a few moments, the sizeable amount of raw fish was gone, and, thirsty, Sarah lapped the water in the smaller bowl alongside her dinner dish. As she ate and drank, the other girls laughed and called out to her.



"For a lioness, she sure eats like a pig!" Karen Lewis shouted.



The others guffawed.



"Cats don't usually like water," Cindy Baxter observed, "but look at the way our pet laps it up!"



The other girls laughed.



"I always knew Sarah was the biggest pussy on the squad," Becky James yelled. "Now, she's proven it!"



More giggling and catcalls followed Becky's jibe.



Despite herself, Sarah felt tears rise in her eyes. Fiercely, she blinked them back. She didn't want to give the others the satisfaction of knowing they'd made her cry.



As Amanda stepped forward to replace the muzzle and hood, Sarah said, "Wait!"



Amanda slapped her hard across the face. "Don't tell me what to do, bitch! In fact, don't talk at all. You're a lioness, not a girl, and lionesses can't talk."



Sarah knew that her face must be red, because the wallop she'd just received smarted terribly, and the blonde wept freely. The emotional abuse of her supposed friends had brought her to the verge of tears; Amanda's words--and her slap--had sent the mascot over the edge. Her tears were met with the derision she'd feared. The other girls shouted "crybaby" and "pussy" at her, laughing and hooting.



"Let her have her say," Coach Bigg overruled her assistant. "It will be the last time we hear from Owens in some time, after all."



Sarah felt grateful, although, she realized, she should feel outraged to have been put in the predicament of being dressed, caged, and treated like an animal. "Thanks, Coach," she blubbered.



"If you've anything to say, you'd better say it, Owens," Coach Bigg replied, "because your muzzle goes back on in fifteen seconds."



Sarah saw Amanda glance at her wristwatch.



"I was wondering--if I have to--uh--you know--"



"Ten seconds left," Amanda announced, sounding pleased.



Realizing she might run out of time before she was able to ask her question in a delicate manner, the mascot blurted out, "How do I poop or pee?"



The other girls laughed, repeating Sarah's question in a mocking fashion: "How do I poop or pee?" Their mimicry was hilarious to them, and several of the cheerleaders, their faces red and contorted, doubled over with laughter, holding their sides.



"How do I poop pee?" Crystal Rogers repeated Sarah's question again, and the rest of the squad guffawed as if they were hearing the query for the first, instead of the umpteenth, time.



"How do I poop or pee?" Debbie Penn cried.



Again, the others laughed.



Sarah felt her face burn with embarrassment. To have her most intimate bodily functions be made the topic of her peers' amusement and scorn was mortifying.



"You simply fold back a corner of the blanket," the Coach informed her, "and relieve yourself in the wagon. Later, one of your keepers will hose down the wagon."



"But what will I use to wipe--" Sarah started to ask, but Amanda, announcing, "Time's up, bitch!" jammed the prong with the ball attached to its end back into Sarah's mouth, shoved her head down, fastened the strap in place behind her head, lifted the hood back into place, and sealed the Velcro strip on the band that, passing under her chin, held the hood together. The transformation was amazing. With all of her human features except her eyes, ass, and cunt concealed by the lioness costume, Sarah looked much like the actual beast that she, as South Catholic High School's mascot, represented.



The coach had heard enough of Sarah's second query to answer her, though, and she said, "To wipe your anus or vagina, use the blanket, of course. Your bedding will be changed daily, when you are bathed."



Bathed? Sarah thought. Inside the muzzle, she tried, as best she could, to smile. The thought of the cheerleaders running their soapy hands through her hair and over her bare flesh, including her ass, her asshole, and her pussy, was about the only thing pleasant she could think of concerning her new role as the school mascot.



Through the heavy wire mesh, Coach Bigg told Sarah, "You will be released for cheerleading events and for the nationals competition, of course, but, otherwise, your role will be greatly diminished, with you spending most of your time in your cage, so, if I were you, I'd get comfortable with my new home."



The coach pressed a button on the side of the cage, and a recorded cacophony of lioness' snarls and roars echoed off the gymnasium's roof and walls. The cheerleaders applauded, whistled, and hooted their approval of the sound effects that the recording provided for their school mascot. To Amanda, Coach Bigg said, "Wheel her to the sideline."



Taking the handle of the wagon, Amanda rolled the conveyance to the basketball court's sideline, near the cheerleaders who stood at the edge of the series of practice mats that were laid side by side and end to end, to cover half the court.



From her clamped enclosure, uncomfortable upon the blanket that covered the mesh floor of her cage, her vision broken into tiny squares, Sarah wept and sobbed, watching her friends--if any of them still were her friends--put themselves through the exercises, stunts, and routines they'd perform at the nationals.



Sarah had longed, all her life, to participate in such a competition--as a cheerleader, not as a costumed mascot. Now, she'd be hidden, except for her eyes, ass, and pussy, inside a fucking costume, looking more like a big cat than a beautiful young woman. Worse yet, her role in the competition would be comparatively small and unimportant next to the parts the other girls on the squad would play. Sarah wouldn't be in the spotlight, but in the shadows. Her worst fears, it seemed, had come true: she'd been relegated to a position of little or no real importance while her friends, many of whom were both less beautiful and less talented than she, would steal the show.



The part that Sarah herself would have played had been taken over by Amanda Meeks, who wasn't even really a girl at all, but a chick with a dick! Sarah felt humiliated. Not only had she been denied the opportunity to shine as her squad's best cheerleader, but she'd also been replaced in the national competition's cheerleading routines by a dude with boobs! It was all just too much, and she cried inconsolably inside the hot, stifling costume and the close-fitting muzzle which denied her very humanity.



As Sarah watched the other girls execute cartwheels, somersaults, leaps, and scorpions, perform pyramids, dance, and shake their pompoms, Coach Bigg sidled up to the side of her cage. To the sniffling mascot inside, the coach delivered the most devastating news of all. From now on, Amanda, not Sarah, would be Marilyn's girlfriend. Sarah would henceforth be the only girl on the squad--if a mascot could even be said to be a member of the squad--to be without a lesbian lover.



* * *



At the end of the evening, Sarah was told that she must wear the costume home, as she must wear it to school. To prevent her arrest for public indecency, and to prevent her parents from going ballistic over the thought that, during cheerleading practice, their daughter's breasts, buttocks, and vagina were on constant display, Amanda fastened three additional parts of the costume into place. Two circular patches, of a color lighter than the rest of the tawny costume, their rims backed with Velcro, covered her breasts. The third piece, of an irregular shape, but of the same lighter color as those which concealed Sarah's boobs, and also backed with Velcro, covered her buttocks, perineum, and vagina. The patches gave Sarah an exciting, sexy two-toned look that also made her appearance acceptable, if only marginally, to the more Puritan-minded members of the public. However, she was allowed to wear these accessories only when she went back and forth, between her house and school, or participated, as the school mascot, at sports competitions or other school-sponsored events.



As always, it seemed that Coach Bigg had thought of everything.

