Alpacca Bites: I happened to be browsing through the PPMB Iron Chef's, and found this bizarre little gem tucked away. Read through it, found a title I couldn't shake and decided to write it. And so, in answer to Derek's "Daria Fanfics that should not be" Iron Chef Challenge from back in 2006, I give you...
Touched By Angela Li
A contented sigh whispered through the still air of the dark office and, after a lethargic stretch, Principal Angela Li of Lawndale High began to dress. As she retrieved and began to carefully pull on a pair of silk pantyhose that had been thrown carelessly across the room, Angela hummed an old tune, a cheerful ditty barely remembered from childhood. Just as she was brushing an errant dust bunny from the leg of her tailored tweed slacks, something, some small, pitiful sound broke through her quiet satisfaction.
A small frown puckered the heart-shaped mouth, and her dark eyes narrowed as she slipped a pair of square-framed glasses up the bridge of her pert nose. The sound came again, a broken whimper from the far corner of the office. A predatory smile split that severe, calculating face and after a few swift, eager steps Lawndale High's very own Chairman Mao stood over the pathetic form quivering on the carpet.
The wide brown eyes, at first blank and staring, traveled up the length of Angela's stockinged leg, past the bare torso (his horrified flinch widened that razored smile) and came to rest, if unwillingly, on her own obsidian slits with an expression of helpless pleading. Angela grinned, her baring every bit that of a lioness standing over a wounded zebra, preparing to strike the fatal blow.
"No more," The voice was a coarse rasp, a condition that could only come of hours of screaming. "Please, no... more..." The grinning despot chuckled; the cold, merciless sound of it caused the near-emasculated form to pull tighter into his fetal posture and silently weep.
"Well, it would seem someone has yet to learn his lesson. There are consequences to peeping on a Faculty member, Mr. Ruttheimer. I'm afraid you are in need of... further instruction."
One small foot kicked out and rolled the shell shocked boy onto his back. Sick dread flooded his prone form and, almost involuntarily, his head began slowly to rock from side to side. Whether in denial or pleading, it came to the same end; Angela licked her lips and stripped herself of what clothing she wore.
As Angela Li mounted him for the sixth time that day, Charles Ruttheimer was transported to a day not long ago...
"Ms. Li changing her support hose again?" Jane joked, smirk evident in her throaty voice.
"That's another habit that'll lead to blindness, Upchuck." Daria warned in her usual near-monotone as Charles stood, pulling his eye from the keyhole.
Why hadn't he listened? The warning had been all in jest, true, but though blindness would have been a pleasant distraction if, by the mercy of whatever deity might have been watching this nightmare exchange, after four hours of being ridden like a mechanical bull by a middle aged woman with the libido of a teenage boy, Charles would much have preferred death. Or paralysis, at the very least.
Angela got herself settled and with frightening accuracy, extended a finger to quickly jab a pressure point in each Charles's left, then right hip. Once again wearing that Hannibal Lector smile, the insatiable harpy pulled something from behind her back and dangled it before her prone victim's eyes with no small amount of vindictive pleasure.
Though he no longer retained the strength to speak, frightened witnesses for years to come would be wakened in the dark of night by the terrifying cry of "Not the tassels! Dear god, not the tassels!"
The empty school rang with the high, cold tones of Principal Angela Li's laughter as the high sun of afternoon darkened to evening.
Fin
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Many thanks to everyone who commented on the PPMB: If this had bombed, it wouldn't be up here to torment so many other people. Thanks for reading, and tell me what you think.
Flames will be laughed at, mocked, and discarded.