TITLE    : The Sarah Owens Story Ch. 21
STORYID  : the-sarah-owens-story-ch-21
SUMMARY  : Sarah saves the day.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2010-02-09
CATEGORY : bdsm-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |coach|cheerleader|tranny|transsexual|shemale|18-year-old|catholic|schoolgirl|spanking|


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



* * *



Coach Ryerson stopped the bus at a self-operated car wash. The vehicle's back door opened, and, without further warning, Sarah heard a gushing, hissing sound as a high-pressure stream of water burst over her. The jet was broken only by the wire mesh of the cage in which she lay upon her side, her knees drawn up against her bare breasts. Her buttocks, like her perineum and pussy, were also naked, thanks to the strategically placed cutouts in her lioness costume.



The skin between her silk-smooth ass cheeks felt wet and a little sticky. After shitting, she hadn't been able to wipe her ass very well with the corner of the blanket that covered the bottom of her cage, and she was denied toilet tissue or anything else besides the pair of bowls, one for raw fish, the other for water, that was her daily diet. The stickiness, she knew, was the residue of her feces, which she'd missed in wiping herself after defecating inside her cage a little more than half an hour ago. The bus had stopped so that the cheerleaders could relieve themselves and grab a bite to eat; it had also stopped so that the driver, Coach Ryerson, could hose down Sarah and her cage.



"Remove the butt plug anchoring your tail in your rectum," Coach Ryerson told the mascot.



Sarah struggled to obey. It wasn't easy to pull the long, thick plug from her bottom, especially in the claustrophobic space of the cage that had become her home away from home, but, grunting and groaning, she managed, at last, to extract the appliance.



As it happened, her bottom was facing the rear of the bus, and the boys' varsity football coach directed a stream of the high-pressure water into the cleavage between the mascot's bare buttocks. The water, which was astonishingly cold, struck her hard, and Sarah lunged forward, but, inside the close confines of the small cage, she had nowhere to go, and Coach Ryerson laughed at her shock and distress.



"Move aside, Owens," Coach Bigg commanded. The cheerleaders' coach was standing beside the driver. "Coach Ryerson needs to wash your filth out of the cage, too."



Unable to void her bladder or her bowels anywhere else, Sarah had had to do so in a corner of her cage. She lifted the blanket where she had done so, exposing the pile of excrement and the stain of her urine. Mortified, she moved as much aside as she could in the short, narrow pen in which she'd spent most of the trip, so far, from South Catholic High School, en route to the site of this year's National High School Cheerleading Competition--an event in which, according to Coach Bigg, Sarah, as her school's mascot rather than a cheerleader per se, would not be permitted to participate.



"Phew! You stink!" Coach Ryerson said, as he directed the jet of water from the handheld nozzle toward Sarah's shit. The turds were blasted from the corner of the cage, as was the ugly yellow-orange stain of her piss.



"Blast her ass again," Coach Bigg told her driver, and Coach Ryerson directed the jet of water into the cleavage between Sarah's ass a second time, letting the water gush and spurt against the mascot's perineum, the inner curves of her buttocks, and the gaping anus within. Her asshole was the same diameter as the narrowest part of the butt plug that had penetrated her for hours now, and the driver could see a couple of inches into the teen's rectum. The water filled her wide-open anus, gurgling within the mouth of Sarah's ass.



"That's good," Coach Bigg announced, and the spray of water was withdrawn, leaving Sarah's ass wet, part of her costume soaked, and most of the blanket on the floor of the cage drenched. "Maybe Owens will cooperate, holding her water and retaining her feces until we reach our destination," she told her counterpart, "but I doubt it."



"Maybe we should stop feeding and watering her until we get there," Coach Ryerson suggested.



"Maybe we should stop feeding and watering her entirely," Coach Bigg replied.



Coach Ryerson chuckled. "At least we don't have to smell her piss and shit anymore," he observed, "at least, not until she pisses or shits herself again during the rest of the trip."



"Put your tail back on," Coach Bigg told the caged mascot.



The two coaches watched as Sarah struggled to obey her coach's orders. They laughed as Sarah grunted and groaned, twisting and turning. Finally, she managed to insert the huge plug through her expanded asshole and into her rectum again, and Coach Ryerson slammed the doors to the bus shut.



As soon as the cheerleaders had returned from the public restroom and had boarded the bus, the squad was underway again, headed to fame and glory, they hoped, as this year's National High School Cheerleading Competition champions--an honor that Sarah would share only indirectly, if at all.



The girls ignored Sarah, other than to taunt her about her not having been "housebroken" and the "pain in the ass" she was to everyone, needing to be fed, watered, and cleaned up after all the time. "She's hardly worth her keep," Marilyn had concluded, to the laughter of the rest of the squad.



It was humiliating to have to depend upon others for one's sustenance, meager and unvaried as it was, and to be hosed down by Coach Ryerson after she'd pissed or shit herself, which was an inevitability, no matter how careful she was when squatting in a corner of her cage. She wept, silently, all the way to the motel at which Coach Ryerson had rented rooms for the cheerleaders.



The other girls grabbed their bags and hastened inside, to get naked, take hot showers, make love to their girlfriends, watch a little television, and retire early so they'd be rested and fresh in the morning, leaving Sarah inside the cramped cage, to spend the night alone, curled up in a fetal position, in the cold, her breasts, buttocks, perineum, and pussy exposed. No matter how she twisted or turned, unable to fully extend her legs, the night would be long and restless, and, in the morning, she would feel like shit, thanks to Coach Bigg, the super bitch.



* * *



The next day, South Catholic High School's cheerleading squad would be nothing less than superb during the performance of their routine, Coach Bigg assured them, and they would be all but certain to take home the title of champions--and the huge, ostentatious trophy that signified first place. The cup would be prominently displayed, in the trophy case just inside the school's front entrance, with full-color, framed photographs of the squad members in a circle, the center of which would be occupied by the portraits of Coach Bigg and her assistant, Coach Meeks. Sarah's picture wouldn't be included, of course, because she was no longer a member of the squad. Mascots didn't count.



Even before the competition itself began, Sarah had made a fine impression upon the audience in attendance, dressed in her realistic costume, with the panels to cover her breasts, buttocks, perineum, and pussy in place, of course. Coach Bigg had a remote control that she could operate surreptitiously, causing a recorded series of snarls and growls to sound, seemingly, from the wire-mesh enclosure in which Sarah was caged. The presence of such a mascot, even if Sarah was not permitted, by this year's rules, to participate in the competition itself, added to South Catholic High School's cheerleading squad's grandeur, the blonde, former cheerleader thought. She was proud of her role, even if it was a diminished and unofficial one.



After she'd been wheeled out, on the hand-drawn wagon, for all to see, Sarah even enjoyed a bit of freedom from the close confines of her cage, Coach Bigg allowing her to stroll about and stretch her limbs. At first, Sarah found it difficult even to stand, to say nothing of walk, for she'd been locked inside the cage almost continuously for two days and for the greater part of most other days for the last month. It was a wonder, she thought, that she could walk at all. She doubted that she could do a cheerleading jump, stunt, or routine of any kind were she called upon to do so. Her muscles had all but atrophied, and her reflexes and instincts as a cheerleader, once as finely honed as anyone's, were dull by comparison to most of the other girls', thanks, again, to her long-term imprisonment in the lioness' cage.



While she had a chance to do so, though, she thought she'd put her free time to good use, doing some exercises. Maybe she'd even try a few jumps and stunts. She could practice an arabesque, the scales, a chin-chin stunt, a bow and arrow, and maybe a heel stretch. Most likely, she'd fail abysmally, betrayed by her stiff muscles and frayed nerves, but she could at least try, she thought.



As Sarah was practicing these moves, the butt plug making its presence known to her, as her buttocks flexed and her asshole tightened, or her ass cheeks relaxed and her anus loosened, about the neck of the plug, she saw Coach Bigg, moving like a bat--or, given her size, a she-bear--out of hell, toward her, an expression upon her bovine face that Sarah had never seen before. Coach Bigg looked both horrified and frightened. "Owens," she hissed, as loudly as she dared, "get out of that costume, and suit up." She thrust a cheerleading uniform at the startled blonde. "Amanda hurt herself last night, and we need a replacement for her."



Sarah wanted to ask what had happened to the transsexual assistant coach, but, with the ball gag filling her mouth, she was unable to do anything more than mumble incoherently. She snatched the cheerleader's uniform from the coach, and hurried, as fast as she could on her stiff legs to the squad's dressing room. The other girls stared at her as if she were a pariah. Most likely, Sarah thought, she had become one. Maybe, if she saved the day for the squad by replacing Amanda at the last minute, and they won the championship title, the other girls would accept her as one of their own again, and she'd recover her lost status--at last.



"What are you doing in here?" Marilyn demanded.



"I told her to suit up," Coach Bigg declared. She'd followed Sarah into the dressing room. "Madison, help your girlfriend out of that lioness costume and into her cheerleader's uniform."



"But, Coach, I--"



"I don't have time to explain or argue," Coach Bigg snapped. "Just do it!" The coach spun on her heel and rushed from the dressing room, apparently having other administrative fires to put out.



"I may help you dress," Marilyn told Sarah as she yanked apart the Velcro strap under Sarah's chin, jerked the hood of her lioness costume free of the mascot's head, and unfastened the leather strap that kept the muzzle in place over the blonde's nose and mouth, "but I am not going to be your girlfriend, ever again."



Able to speak again, now that the muzzle had been removed, Sarah said, "We'll just see what Coach Bigg has to say about that."



As Sarah got out of the costume and into her uniform, the other girls rallied around her. In snatches of conversation with her newfound supporters, Sarah learned that Amanda had disabled herself by fracturing her penis. Marilyn had been riding atop Amanda. The tranny's prick had slid from her girlfriend's well-lubricated asshole--Amanda preferred anal to vaginal intercourse--just as the redhead had plunged her buttocks down, hard and fast, to take her girlfriend's cock back up her poop chute, and the shemale's erection had collided, forcefully and painfully, against Marilyn's perineum. A loud snap was heard as Amanda's prick bent to the side, and she howled in agony as her penis showed an immediate bruise at the site of the damage. 



Paramedics were called, and Amanda was rushed to the nearest hospital, where she was diagnosed by the emergency room physician as having suffered a rupture of the tunica albuginea, which envelops the corpus cavernosum penis.



"Will she be all right?" Sarah asked, hoping that Amanda would suffer dearly.



"It's too early to say," Debbie Penn answered. "Long-term, or even permanent, complications could result, including erectile dysfunction, penile curvature, and damage to the urethra which could cause pain during intercourse."



Sarah grinned at Marilyn. "Wow, sweet cheeks, you really fucked up your boyfriend, didn't you, klutz?"



Coach Bigg poked her head in the doorway. "We're up in ten minutes." She glanced at Sarah. The coach looked worried. No doubt, she was concerned with how much harm she'd done to the blonde's strength and flexibility by keeping her penned up inside the tiny lioness cage all these weeks. "You going to be up to it, Owens?"



"You can count on me," Sarah said. "I'm a winner."



* * *



The South Catholic High School cheerleading squad was everything Coach Bigg had promised it would be, and more, Sarah thought. Like the other girls, Sarah was astonished at the skill, speed, strength, poise, grace, and sheer beauty of their performance, whether of jumps, of stunts, of dances, or of tumbling runs; from start to finish, from mount to dismount, their executions were flawless. Their choreography was fantastic, and the music they'd chosen was ideal for their routines.



"You are the best I've ever seen," Coach Bigg told the girls, "including you, Sarah."



Sarah frowned. Had she heard correctly? she asked herself. Had the coach actually called her by her first name?



"I've never seen a better arabesque, liberty, or scorpion," the coach continued, "and the pyramids were perfect. I didn't think you could pull it off without Amanda, but Owens--I mean, Sarah--was more than up to the challenge." She turned to the blonde, and, in front of the rest of the squad, declared, "It is largely thanks to your ability to step in, at the last possible moment, despite having been cooped up inside that cage for hours and, indeed, days on end, that the squad has won first place--and, make no mistake about that--we've won, all right. Thanks to you, Sarah, we're going home victorious. You are, without a doubt, the best cheerleader I have ever had the honor and privilege of mentoring."



There was a whisper among the other girls as they waited for the conclusion of the day's competition, when the winners would be named, hardly bothering to watch their rivals perform. They all spoke, in hushed tones, of Coach Bigg's praise of Sarah, whom, they'd all thought, the coach detested. To say that they were confused would be to put the matter mildly, to be sure. The girls were way past being merely confused. They were in a state of disbelief. "The coach does know she's talking to the bitch who shit and pissed herself just yesterday, right?" Marilyn Madison asked her friends.



"I know it, all right, Madison!" Coach Bigg, overhearing the redhead, snapped.



Marilyn's haughty look disappeared from her face, along with her leering grin. "I'm sorry, Coach. I didn't mean--"



"Oh, yes, you did, Madison," Coach Bigg cut her off. "You meant everything you said. Your kind always does."



Coach Ryerson, making his way through the crowded arena in which the competition was being held, caught his counterpart's eye. "They're announcing the winners of the competition in fifteen minutes, I hear."



"Thanks, Coach."



"You're welcome."



Coach Bigg addressed her squad. "Fifteen minutes is just about the amount of time I need to make a couple of matters clear. First, let me explain why I singled Sarah out for special treatment--and for abusive treatment, at that. I had two reasons. First, when I arrived at South Catholic high School, it was obvious to me, in an instant, who the alpha female on the squad was, and that was Sarah. She had confidence. She was decisive. She was inspirational. She was a natural leader. In addition, she was the best, most talented cheerleader on the squad. Most of the time, her performance carried everyone else's performance."



Sarah stared at the coach as if she were listening to a madwoman. If what Coach Bigg was saying was true, why the hell had she treated the best as if she were the worst? Sarah wondered.



"There can be only one alpha female in a group, though, and, to win here today, that alpha female had to be me, so I set about breaking Sarah's will, chipping away at her self-confidence, her decisiveness, and her influence on the rest of you and abusing her physically, psychologically, and sexually. For the rest of you to blossom, you had to be removed from Sarah's shadow, and for you to develop self-confidence, decisiveness, and inspiration, I had to dismantle Sarah's own identical qualities. That's one reason I separated Sarah from the rest of you, first socially and then physically."



He cheerleaders looked back and forth at one another. They stole quick, furtive glances at Sarah, too.



"I also needed to see which of you are sharks and piranhas and which of you were decent enough to remain loyal and supportive friends to Sarah. I had to know with whom--and with what--I was dealing, and by isolating Sarah as a social pariah and as a mascot to be kept apart from the rest of you, exiled socially and locked up physically, I saw that all of you, except Sarah herself, is a shark and a piranha. She stood by you, time and time again, but each and every one of you insulted and bullied her, stabbed her in the back and betrayed her."



The cheerleaders shuffled their feet, looking down, none daring to gaze directly at the girl they'd scorned and mocked, berated and betrayed, used and abused.



"I discovered that you are cutthroat and aggressive, not merely competitive, and I knew I could tap into those qualities--if I could control your cannibalistic attacks upon each other--and transform you into the country's, and quite possibly, the world's best cheerleaders, and, thanks to Sarah and her sacrifices, I've done so."



A few minutes later, Coach Bigg accepted the biggest, shiniest, most beautiful trophy that Sarah and the other squad members had ever seen in their lives, and, having won first place, as their coach had all but guaranteed them they would do, they took the trophy home with them.



Sarah knew bliss beyond measure.



But there was more joy yet to come for the girl who'd been her squad's detested outcast.



* * *



<i>Note: the next installment is the last. Sarah and I hope you've enjoyed our story, and we hope you'll check back to see how it all ends and what becomes of Sarah, Coach Bigg, Marilyn, Amanda, the other cheerleaders, and Sarah's parents, Max and Marlene. We invite you to check out the other stories we've written for Literotica, too, under our respective names, Cal Y. Pygia and Sarah Owens.</i>

