There was a squirrel perched on the window ledge, a fat nut in its tiny hands and a permanent look of surprise on its face. It had been there for nearly ten minutes, peering through the glass, and the red-headed girl was starting to get creeped out. When she started to take off her nightgown, it fixed its beady little eyes on her, and she swore she saw it licking its chops. There was absolutely no way that it was really looking at her, she told herself, it was a dumb animal, but she couldn't bring herself to get naked in front of it. She stalked over to the window and pounded on it, making it jump. "Go away, you little peeping tom."

Chattering indignantly, the squirrel jumped off the sill and scampered across the yard. It stopped and looked back, then disappeared up a tree. Lindsay watched until it was gone, then drew the curtains. She pulled her nightgown over her head and tossed it on the bed. Her body was lithe and cat-like, her rosebud breasts and jiggling lightly with the beat of her heart and the curve of her hips terminating at the junction of her thighs. She had just turned nine a few weeks ago and her body had begun to rapidly develop. The specialist her mother took her to in Detroit called it "precocious puberty" which is basically puberty that begins much earlier than normal puberty. She had the body of a fourteen year old girl (at least) and the mindset of a bitter forty year old woman. That last part wasn't related to her precocious puberty, though.

It was because of that bitch Lola Loud.

Lola the a blonde- gap-toothed primadonna with a whole pile of chips on her shoulder. She walked around with her pert little nose in the aie and acted like she was better than everyone else. The thing that made Lindsay hate her was that, maybe she was right. For the year and a half Lindsay participated in pageants before Lola Loud showed up, she dominated. She won every ribbon, award, and trophy there was, and the judges all loved her. She was smart, beautiful, and naturally gifted; she could learn to do almost anything with only a little bit of instruction. She got straight A's in school, played four different instruments, was fluent in French, Italian, and Spanish, and was currently teaching herself to draw. She didn't want to humblebrag or anything, but she was pretty great and deserved all the praise she got.

Then Lola Loud came along and everything changed.

The first time they met, it was a Thursday night in late January. The sky was black, the trees were barren, and an icy breeze swept over Royal Woods from the west. Patches of crusted snow left over from a previous snowstorm dotted the hard, crunchy ground and the moon was full and shining even though it was only 7pm. Pageant practice was being held at the school gym and Lindsay's mom dropped her off fifteen minutes early. It was so cold that Lindsay's face was red and numb by the time she got inside, her puffy jacket and fur lined Uggs doing little to keep her warm against the chill. Because she was early, the gym was largely empty, save for the instructor, a few stagehands, and a couple other girls. Lindsay noticed Lola at once; she stood in the center of a group of girls and waved her hand as she talked. Lindsay knew Lola vaguely, and wasn't surprised to see her here; she had Beauty Queen written all over her. Lindsay did not feel threatened, she did not instantly hate Lola, she didn't even think twice about it; in fact, she figured they could be friends.

Only things didn't quite go down like that. A lot of people said Lindsay was full of herself, and maybe she was, but so was Lola, and from the first moment they interacted, they didn't get along. They were too much alike, a friend of hers said. Okay, maybe they were, but Lola was waaay worse than she ever was. She talked down to everyone, insulted them for no reason at all, and boasted so much it made Lindsay's head ache. If she got a new dress or a a cute pair of shoes, she would lord it over everyone else and all but demand that they gush over them. Lindsay hated it so much that she wanted to strangle Lola every time she saw her smug little face. At some point, Lindsay took a good, long look at herself in the mirror and realized that it was true, she was just like Lola.

Maybe she finally understood that being a self-superior cunt was wrong, or maybe she hated Lola so much that she wanted to be as unlike her as humanly possible, but either way, she decided to change. She forced herself to be nice and compliment people even if they looked or did better than she did (especially if they looked or did better than her) and made all the effort in the world to be humble. Not being a butthole was easy, but not being an ego monster wasn't. She genuinely believed that she was better than most people at a lot of things and she didn't really see any point in being shy about it. If you're good at something, anything, it's human nature to talk about it. Or at the very least, to not hide it and be ashamed of it. Too many people acted like you have to be ashamed of excellence. "You might hurt someone else's feelings because they're not as good as you." So what should you do? Just hide your talent? After dealing with Lola for a while, she came to understand that there was a difference between having a talent and being an a-hole about it. Lola was better than her at many things and she never missed a chance to let everyone know, often in the snidest and most mocking way.

Lindsay hated that.

So she did her best to make sure that she didn't do the same thing to others. She brought cookies and brownies to every practice and made sure everyone got one, including Lola - she even gave Lola two because there was a saying about loving your enemy and Lindsay wanted to live it. She offered to stay after practice and help the instructor clean up and put things away. She helped her friends when they needed it, she even volunteered to read to little kids at the library. Doing these things taught her empathy, and while she didn't turn into a total bleeding heart, she did become a nicer person.

As if correcting the balance of the universe, Lola became an even bigger prick, and there were times when Lindsay fantasized about clawing her eyes out. She had become nicer, yeah, but you know what? Some people don't deserve nice. They don't respond to reason or kindness or understanding. You can't do anything with them. You can try and try until you're mentally and emotionally exhausted, but sometimes, nothing you do will ever be enough. That was Lola. Lola was a bitch and worse, she was a talented bitch. Ever since she showed up, Lindsay had been second best. Lola got 9s and 10s from the judges, Lindsay got 7s and 8s. Lindsay got thunderous applause, Lola got a standing ovation. Lola wasn't as good as her in some areas, that was true, but do you think that mattered? No, it didn't. She held the audience and the judges in her thrall like an evil witch and even if Lindsay did better than her, Lola always managed to edge her out. No matter how hard Lindsay trained, no matter how much she put into each dance routine or gymnastics stunt, she always lost to Lola.

To say she wasn't jealous and resentful would be a lie. She wasn't just upset at Lola for being an ass, she was upset at her for being better. She wished there was some way she could bring her down a few pegs. She had considered cheating, but didn't see any viable way to do so short of buttering up the judges, and that was a dangerous proposition...even if she knew who the judges for any particular event were, which she usually didn't, as their identities were kept secret to avoid tampering. Another thing she gave serious thought to was finding a way to injure Lola on stage so that she wouldn't be able to compete. Morally, she was torn over whether to do it or not, but what really decided her against it was the fear of being caught. If she did something to compromise a fellow performer's safety, she would lose her entire career. The Pageant Association of Lower Michigan took things like that very seriously.

That left her with pretty much no recourse, except dropping, and that wasn't going to happen; if she ran away with her tail tucked between her legs, she would never hear the end of it, from her friends, from Lola, and especially from herself. She was a lot of things (like cute and talented) but she was not a quitter. She would stick it out. More than that, she would find a way to beat Lola at her own game while inflicting the maximum amount of damage as possible.

She just needed to find a way.

Her mind worked on the matter as she dressed in a black yoga pants and a purple blouse with ruffles. She brushed her hair, put a bow in, and pulled on her tennis shoes. She had pageant practice after school and didn't want to wear her best dress all day - it, along with her gloves, heels, and stockings, were in a duffle bag under her bed, prepacked and ready to go. She got down on her hands and knees, grabbed it, and dragged it out. She sat it on her bed and went to her vanity, where she applied her make-up for the day. She turned left and right, examining her face closely from every side, and pursed her sensuous lips. What did Lola have that she didn't? Beauty? Lindsay had plenty of that. Class? Lindsay oozed the stuff. Talent? Please, it wasn't even close. Yet somehow, Lola managed to always have an edge over her. Was she secretly blowing the judges?

Sigh, if only. Whatever Lola was doing, it wasn't cheating, she was just always slightly better.

Not for very much longer, though.

Getting up, Lindsay grabbed her dufflebag, slung it over her shoulder, and walked to the bus stop. Her timing was impeccable as always, and it appeared at the end of the street just as she reached the end of her driveway. It pulled up and doors thunked open; the driver, a fat woman with frizzy red hair, stared through the windshield with beady little eyes, and the warm smell of kids rolled out, hitting Lindsay in the face. She pinched her nose and got on. She really wished more kids bathed and used deodorant around here. Kids here age really weren't supposed to have BO but pretty much every single one of her classmates was going through precocious puberty just like her, only in most of them it manifested itself not in acne, hair in weird places, or bigger boobs, but as ripe pit odor.

Of course, a lucky few were blessed with pronounced bodily development like hers...and guess who one of them was? Lola flippin' Loud. What was it about this weirdo town? Was there something in the water? There was a nuclear power plant nearby, so God only knew what kind of crap had seeped into the ground. The whole place was probably going to get cancer one day. Her grandma had cancer; it was bad stuff.

She wouldn't even wish it on Lola.

Explosive diarrhea, on the other hand...

Speaking of Lola, the bus turned onto Franklin Avenue and rolled to a stop at the curb. The doors opened, and Lola walked into the bus like she was walking onto a yacht, her sash dipped strategically below one breast, her lipstick, it was apricot. She had one eye on rearview as she watched herself gavotte...it was downright sickening. Trip, bitch, trip.

Of course, Lola didn't trip; she strutted by with her nose in the air and her thicc butt wiggling snootily beneath her dress. Lisa, Lana, Lucy, and Lincoln got on behind her and took their seats. When she saw the latter, Lindsay's mouth curved up in a smile.

She liked Lincoln.

Kind of,. She wasn't lovesick and writing his name in her notebooks like the was with Winston before Lola stole him away, but she was definitely into him. She never said anything because, realistically, he probably didn't like younger girls. He was thirteen and she was eight. She seriously doubted he'd want to date her. And what would her parents say? They'd go ballistic.

Though, honestly, what they said didn't matter. She was basically grown at this point and could make her own decisions. If they didn't like that, oh well.

On the bus ride to school, Lindsay divided her time between looking at Lincoln and thinking of a way to best Lola. Fifteen minutes later, the bus pulled up in front of the school and everyone piled out. Her head was lost in the clouds for much of the morning, and at lunch, she absently ate her food, a dull, faraway expression in her eyes. She lived down the street from David, Lisa's friend, and was wondering if she could use him to somehow trick Lola into thinking the next pageant was on a different day than it actually was. Surely he could hack into the coach's email and send Lola a fake postponement notice.

No, that seemed too convoluted.

Her eyes went to Lincoln, who sat at a table across the room with Clyde and a few other boys. He laughed at something one of his friends said and she felt a funny little tingle in her belly. He -

Revelation broke over her like a pane of glass and she sat up straight.

That's it.

What was the one thing Lola had that she didn't?

Lincoln.

Lincoln was Lola's manager. He came with her to every show and helped her practice. He did other things, Lindsay assumed, but every time she saw them together, he was demonstrating something to her, or following her around with a clipboard and taking orders like a common servant. In a rare charitable moment, Lola said "He's the secret to my success." Lindsay thought she was lying or something because she didn't believe that a boy could know anything about pageants, but over time, she saw that Lola wasn't lying. Lincoln was a very good manager and could do anything the girls could. Lola's big ribbon dance from last year that won a perfect 10 score? She copied it move for move from Lincoln. Lindsay saw them practicing with her own eyes and yes, Lincoln was good.

If she could steal Lincoln away, Lola would be devastated...and then hit a losing streak because she didn't have her cute, white-haired crutch anymore.

A sharky smile spread across her lips and a shadow flickered across her face. I got you now, you little blonde thot.

The only question was: How could she get Lincoln away from Lola?

At the end of the day, Lindsay climbed onto the bus and took her seat. She racked her brain for an answer but she was too busy checking Lincoln out to concentrate. Her core tingled and her nipples stiffened, sending little pangs of electricity quivering through her stomach. By the time the bus reached her stop, she was hot and wet and needed a cold shower to calm herself down. Her father was at work and her mother was at the country club playing tennis with one of her girlfriends, so Lindsay had the house to herself. She went to her room, crossed her arms over her chest in an X, and pulled her shirt over her head. She took her shorts off and then her underwear. Naked, she admired herself in the mirror. She had just over an hour before practice. Normally, she would go right there, but tonight, she needed to cool off.

In the bathroom, she turned the water on luke warm and climbed in. She shivered and chattered, but turned the temperature down even more until it was ice cold. She gasped, winced, and squeezed her eyes closed. Ow, ow, ow.

When she was done, she got out and toweled off.

There. All better.

In her bedroom, she put on her nice dress and stepped into her heels. She sat at her vanity, touched up her lipstick and eyeliner, and blew the mirror a kiss.

You, my friend, are gorgeous. Any boy would -

She blinked.

That's it.

She knew how she was going to get Lincoln to help her.

She was going to make off with him…

And then make out with him.

She giggled wickedly at her own humor.

"Watch out, Lola," she said as she got to her feet, "'cause here I come."

Lincoln Loud sat in a straight back chair outside Lola's private dressing room, his arms crossed sullenly over his chest and his face in a scowl. The hallway was largely empty; to the left was a communal locker / shower and to the right was the main backstage area. A group of girls passed by on their way to the shower, and a few others clustered by the curtain to talk and giggle. Lincoln drew a sharp sigh and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Is this what people in prison felt like? Because that's the first thought that came to mind: That this place was a freaking prison.

And Lola?

Lola was the warden.

For longer than he cared to remember, Lincoln had been Lola's coach and manager. He taught her, supported her, encouraged her, and did anything and everything in his power to ensure that she had all the tools and skills she needed to win. At first, it was fun and new and he felt a sense of accomplishment every time Lola brought home a ribbon or trophy. But over time, it lost its appeal.

Mainly because of Lola.

Far be it from Lincoln to bad mouth one of his sisters, but he had to be honest here: Lola was a bitch. She ordered him around, demanded that he do things for her, and expected him to move mountains. God help him of he couldn't. She was the most whiny and stuck-up primadonna he had ever met, and she made him miserable. Some days, he wished they weren't even related.

He had been thinking about bowing out for a long time now, but she needed him, and he couldn't just leave her like that. Family always stuck together, Dad said, so he was obligated to help her out. He just wished she was less of an asshole. Like, really, do you stick with your family even when they're toxic? He hated to use that world because it made him sound like one of those histrionic internet teenagers, but some people really were toxic. They ruined the mood of any room they walked into, made everyone around them miserable, and drained the will to live from your like some kind of psychic vampire. That was Lola. Tat was Lola 100 percent and he had every right to turn his back on her. He should get up and walk away right now.

Lincoln made no move to stand.

It wasn't as easy as that. The last time he told her he didn't want to do this anymore, she threatened to make his life "a living Hell, Lincoln Loud, with a capital H." What could she realy do, though? She was probably bluffing.

He wasn't about to find out, though.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he began to tap his foot on the floor and let his eyes wander around the hall. Overhead, a network of catwalks crisscrossed the ceiling and floor lamps shone bright circles of light on the floor. Lincoln was not sitting directly in one of them but he could feel its heat anyway. Beads of sweat stood out on his brow and his underarms felt damp. He dragged the back of his hand across his forehead and turned to look at the closed dressing room door over his shoulder. Where was she? Did it really take forty-five minutes to put on make up?

As if one cue, the door exploded open and Lola flew out in a pink robe, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring. Fire blazed in her eyes and her teeth seemed somehow sharper than normal, like fangs. Lincoln's heart dropped into his stomach and he knew deep in his soul that he had fucked something up. "Lincoln Loud!" she hissed. "How could you?"

The girls by the curtain stopped and watched them. There were more now, maybe all of them. They grinned and whispered among themselves, one giggling and another shaking her head. Lola was famous for raging at him in front of others; it happened at least once a week, sometimes more."What now, Lola?" Lincoln sighed.

Lola put her hands on her hips and loomed over him. Standing, he was taller than her, but he remained sitting to avoid looking like he was trying to challenge her. That would only make things worse for him. "You packed green hair curlers, not pink. I only like pink hair curlers. Pink! Pink! Pink!" She punctuated each command with a stomp of the foot.

"I couldn't find the pink ones," Lincoln said.

"Did you even bother looking?" Lola asked.

"Yes," Lincoln said, "I looked. I -"

Lola silenced him by raising her hand, palm out as if to say stop. "I don't want excuses, Lincoln. If it happens again, you'll be sorry. Do you hear me? You'll be sorry." She slithered back into the room and slammed the door behind her.

Bitch, Lincoln thought.

Anger gripped his chest and energy crackled through his veins. The girls by the curtain were looking at him and snickering mean-spiritedly behind their hands, and hot shame colored his face. He almost said something to them, but instead, he got up and walked off in the direction of the locker room, fuming at the way Lola treated him. He had half a mind to kick that door down, thrust his finger at her, and screech I QUIT, FUCKER! at the top of his lungs. Let's see how she liked that. And if she tried to make his life miserable, he'd pay some little girl to beat her up. He'd seen the kids in Lola's grade; some of those girls were stacked.

He was passing by the janitor closet when the door burst open and a pair of hands reached out from the darkness. He had time to let out a sharp, terrified scream before they dragged him in. The door fell closed behind him, plunging him into sackcloth level blackness, and his eyes bulged fearfully from their sockets. Just then, the overhead bulb flickered on, filling the room with muddled light. Shelves lined with cleaning supplies lined the walls, and a dirty yellow mop bucket sat next to a slop sink. He got his elbows under him and crawled backwards, stopping only when he bumped into a boom, which fell over and clattered to the floor, making him jump. A tiny figure emerged from the shadows.

Lindsay Sweetwater.

Lincoln's slamming heart came to an immediate stop and the sweat dried on the back of his neck. His fear left him in a rush and he sat up straight. He wasn't the toughest guy in Guytown, but he was pretty sure he could take little old Lindsay Sweetwater.

Well...maybe. He had seen Lindsay around but had never passed two words with her. All he knew about her was that she was a "stuck up little bimbo who thinks she's all that but clearly isn't." That came from Lola, so who knew how true it was? He tuned out most of what she said anyway.

"What's the big idea?" he demanded and got to his feet. "You scared the Jesus out of me and the all the Apostles out of me. Well, except for Judas. He left on his own."

When Lindsay spoke, he discovered that in one respect, she was just like Lola.

She cut right to the chase.

"I want you to manage me instead of Lola," she said.

Those words hung in the air like a cloud of dense, choking smoke, and Linoln sputtered for a reply. Even though he had just been thinking of quitting and hiring someone to beat Lola into the ground, he wasn't really about that life. If he dropped Lola, she'd go ballistic. That would be bad enough, but if he started coaching her arch nemesis? Oh my God. It would make Nagasaki look like an M80. "I can't do that," Lincoln said.

"Why not?" Lindsay asked and crossed her arms. She cocked her hip to one side. "She treats you like crap. I'll actually respect and appreciate you."

"That sounds nice and all," Lincoln said, "but Lola would go crazy and probably kill both of us."

Lindsay threw her head back and laughed. "You're cute," she said. "The last person on earth I'm worried about is Lola Loud."

"Yeah? Well, that makes one of us."

Lindsay sighed. "I see you need to think a little about it."

"Actually, I -"

"And an incentive. Think of it as a sign on bonus."

Lincoln chuckled. "It would take a lot of money to get me to incur Lola's wrath."

A devious little smile touched Lindsay's lips. "It's not money. Close your eyes."

He started to protest, but she stopped him. "Close your eyes."

Lincoln sighed. "Fine." He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly back, lips pursed in a put upon expression. What was she going to give him? A hug? A gold star sticker like the kind teachers give to kids who don't act like buttheads throughout the day? LOL, she was probably going to give him her favorite teddy bear. Here, Lincy, he's worth his weight in gold. Don't spend him all in one place~

He was expecting something cute and trivial, and was shocked, then, when he felt a pair of warm, moist lips brush against his own. His heart jolted right out of his chest and his eyes flung open like a vinyl curtain in an old cartoon. Lindsay stood on her tippy toes, her hands splayed on his chest and her eyes staring deeply into his. Lincoln's hair turned black, then went completely white again. He tried to wrench away but she slipped her tongue into his mouth and all the fight ran out of him. She slipped her hands under his shirt and the touch of her velvet gloves made his spine tingle. Her tongue swirled lightly and coyly around his, and soft moans of delight rose from her throat. Lincoln tried one last time to save himself from the sultry she-witch and her enchanting tongue-kiss, but instead, his body melted into warm goo and his knees started to shake. He snaked his hands around her hips and grabbed her tight little butt for balance, and she let out a pleased gasp. They stumbled backwards and she wound up pinned against the wall. She kicked her leg up and hooked it around his waist, her dress hiking up and her middle grinding against Lincoln's already swelling bulge. She wore only a thin pair of cotton panties and Lincoln could feel her soft, pliable skin beneath even through his jeans.

He kissed her back, and for a moment their tongues grappled for dominance. Lindsay curled her fingers against his skin and broke from his lips, turning her head to one side and gasping for air. Lincoln attacked the side of her throat with hungry kiss, and a series of reggae pants tore from her chest. As his passions rose, Lincoln lost himself to a primordial fog of lust, his mind dulling and his fevered body taking over. He was vaguely aware of what was happening to him, and he realized on some level that he was losing control, which scared him. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to stop, however. He ran his hands up the backs of her silky legs and pushed her dress up to squeeze her butt.

They eventually toppled to the floor, their hands exploring one another's bodies and their tongues making frenzied love. They rolled back and forth across the ground, first Lindsay on top, then Lincoln. She squirmed beneath him and his boner throbbed so hard that he was sure it was going to explode like a hotdog in the microwave. Lindsay laid a staying hand on his chest and pushed his lips away from hers. Her eyes sparkled in the rusty half light and her lips, kissed raw and pink, curled into a smile. "Are you still afraid of Lola?" she asked.

Lincoln swallowed around a lump in his throat.

"No," he said. "What do you want me to do?"

Lindsay smiled. And just like that, the biggest betrayal since General Milley cozying up to China behind Trump's back was on.

That evening, after the sun had set and the stars had come out, Lincoln and Lola walked home along Mercer Avenue, which linked East Royal Woods with the interstate. Gas stations, strip malls, and fast food restaurants lined the sidewalk and a crush of cars passed in the street, some honking for seemingly no reason at all. A city bus blew by in a gust of exhaust and a homeless man in rags pushed a shopping cart filled with bags of trash - Lincoln guessed he was taking his dinner to go.

They had been walking for three blocks now, and the whole time, Lola rattled off a list of complaints and demands that got more and more clown-like as they went on. She was mad that Lincoln insisted on walking rather than making Mom or Dad pick them up, she was mad that her instructor called her routine "Very good" instead of "OMG perfect, Lola, fap fap fap." Somehow that was his fault, and from there she launched into an anti-Lincoln tirad that made all that stuff Hitler said about Jews look like love letters by comparison. He was scum, he was a roach, he was the worst assistant in the world, why did he have to be such an absolute screw up? You know, the usual. It made Lincoln mad when she did that in front of people and embarrassed him, but when they were alone, he usually didn't mind it as much because he was so used to it. In fact, he barely heard it anymore.

When she finally got tired of telling him how much he sucked and how much space the universe could have saved if he'd never been born, Lola moved onto her demands. "When we get home, you're washing my dress, my leotard, and my socks. Then you need to pick up my room, empty mine and Lana's trash can, and scrub my back in the bath. I saw a pimple on my shoulder because you didn't do it right last time, no surprise there, so this time make sure you get your head out of your butt and don't make any mistakes. Got it? Good. i wanted my trophies polished and all 237 pairs of my shoes shined and organized. You can't do all of them tonight, obviously, but you can get started. I want them organized according to color. If I see one shoe out of place, Lincoln Loud, I'll make you wish you never crossed me."

Blah blah blah, on and on and on. He just nodded and said "Yes" or "Okay" where appropriate. Ahead, the street continued into the night before eventually merging with Main Street, which in turn became Route 12. Past a traffic light, the stores and restaurants gave way to cinderblock industrial buildings. Lincoln turned right onto Kessler Street. Here, the streetlamps were fewer and farther between and houses fell back from the sidewalk. For long stretches, the thoroughfare was so dark that you couldn't see your hand in front of your own face. Lola looked around, narrowed her eyes angrilly, and shot Lincoln a blistering look. "Where are we going? Why are we taking the long way? My feet are starting to hurt so you'll have to carry me if this keeps on, Lincoln Loud. Don't you have any sense of direction? God, why can't you do anything right?"

"I'm treating you to ice cream at Ritters'," he said.

Ritters' was the place to get frozen cow juice in Royal Woods. It had been around since the thirties and was even featured on an episode of Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives: The one where Guy ate so much ice cream that he got a near fatal brain freeze and wound up being rushed to the emergency room.

Lola's mood instantly changed. "Oh, okay then. That's fine."

They passed beneath a streetlamp and stepped into the darkness. It was particularly dense here, and even the starlight above couldn't illuminate it. The sidewalk continued straight and unchanging, but the houses to the right parted, giving way to a small wooded park. During the day, it was filled with kids swarming the playground equipment and long-suffering mothers glued to their phones, but now, after nightfall, it stood empty and wind-swept, alone but for the orchestral music the crickets made. Lincoln jammed his hands into his pockets, looked around, and whistled a snatch of music.

"Is this really the fastest way to get to Ritters'?" Lola asked, the tone of her voice rising curiously. "My feet are starting to hurt and my leg has a cramp. You're going to have to put me on your shoulders and give me a piggyback ride."

Lincoln whistled again, his eyes darting nervously around.

Lola shot him a dirty look, stopped, and fisted her hands to her hips. "Are you listening to me, Lincoln Loud? I said my feet hurt. You need to give me a piggyback ride right now."

Another whistle, this one more urgent than the last.

"And another thing," Lola said, "you're giving me a headache with all that whistling. You can't carry a tune to save your life, why do you even try? You just embarrass yourself and me too. You need to learn when to quit."

As Lola spoke, a dark figure crept up behind her. Lightning fast, it grabbed her and wrenched her off her feet, holding a soaking rag over her nose and mouth. Lola's eyes widened in fright and she tried to break away from her attacker, but the chloroform was rapidly taking effect. Her movement slowed, then stopped, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She went completely limp, and she flopped to the ground. Lindsay Sweetwater stepped out of the shadows and tossed the rag over her shoulder. She walked up to Lincoln and they shared a quick kiss. They turned and looked down at Lola's body sprawled on the sidewalk. Her chest was rising and falling and one leg twitched uncontrollably, putting Lincoln in mind of a smashed bug. She snorted in her sleep, and slowly, she fell still. He bent over and pressed his ear to her lips, listening for a breath. A faint exhalation tickled his earlobe and he stood up straight. "You didn't use too much, did you?" he worried.

"Just what the internet said to use," Lindsay said.

Lincoln winced. "You looked it up? That's how you get caught."

She rolled her eyes. "Stop worrying and help me with your sister." She bent over and grabbed Lola's arms. Lincoln grabbed her legs, and together, they carried her off into the night.

The first thing Lola was aware of was the sick, nauseous churning of her stomach. The world was void save for that choppy sensation, and slowly, her brain swam up from the depths to meet it. Her eyelids fluttered open and bright light stung her orbs. A fractured moan slipped from her throat and her face crinkled, making her look far, far older than her eight years, She tossed her head from side to side and pressed her hand to her forehead.

What happened?

She tried to remember, but her mind was muddled and her stomach pitched; for a terrible moment, she thought she was going to throw up, but managed to hold it down. When she was sure that she wasn't going to spill the contents of her stomach down the front of her dress, she tried to sit up, but vertigo overcame her and the world went black again.

When she came awake next, her hands were bound behind her back and her feet were lashed together with heavy rope. She sat in a straight back chair in the middle of what looked like a basement. The walls were cinderblock and the floor concrete. A single bare bulb dangled from the ceiling. Fear squeezed Lola's chest and she began to hyperventilate. The last thing she could remember was walking with Lincoln, and then nothing.

"Lincoln?" she called. "Lincoln! I need you!"

She sensed movement in the shadows and her heartbeat sped up. "Lincoln! LINCOLN!"

Again, something moved, and Lincoln stepped out of the shadows. Relief washed over Lola and her body untensed. "Lincoln! Help me out of here, quick!"

He didn't move.

Someone else stepped from the darkness, and confusion filled her. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side as if to filter what she was seeing through her brain in order to make it make sense. "What's going on? Where am I?"

"My basement," Lindsay said smugly. "My parents are fast asleep and the place is soundproof, so you can scream all you want and no one will hear you."

"I texted Mom and Dad and told them we'd be late," Lincoln said. "So you have plenty of time to try and make them hear you."

Lola's head spun. "Why?"

"Because we're both sick of you," Lindsay said.

"I officially quit," Lincoln said, "now I'm coaching Linddsay and I promise you that she will beat you every time you show your face on a stage."

"If you even try, I'll make your life hell," Lola threatened.

Lincoln grinned. "Lindsay's heaven will always trump your hell."

"We're making our partnership official," Lindsay said. "And you have no choice but to watch as Lincoln willingly loves and worships me."

Lola watched in disgust as Lindsay stood on her tippy toes, held Lincoln's face in her hands, and locked lips with him. He brushed his hand over her cheek and kissed her back, their tongues bulging like wads of food in their mouths. Lola's mouth fell open in a perfect O of horror and she tried to pull out of her bonds.

They were tied too tightly.

Lincoln reached around Lindsay's hips and grabbed her butt, giving it a mighty squeeze. He pulled her body flush to his, and she slipped her hands up his shirt, "Stop this right now," Lola demanded. "Lincoln Loud, so help me God."

Her orders had no effect. Lincoln hiked Lindsay's dress up and thrust his hands down the back of her panties and Lindsay tugged at his jeans. Lincoln laid Lindsay on the floor, knelt over her, and kissed her lips, face, and neck while grazing one hand up her legs and over her stomach. Lola's anger slowly evaporated and her orders became weaker, less stinging. A strange sense of despair and jealousy came over her and she squeezed her eyes closed. She could escape the sight of what was happening, but not the sound of Lindsay's trembling moans. Lindsay and Lincoln stretched out side by side, Lindsay resting her hand on Lincoln's chest and Lincoln touching the swell of her curved hip. She kicked slowly out of her heels, lifted his shirt, and placed a series of soft, wet kisses over his stomach. His dick made a tentpole in the front of his jeans and she fondled it, her fingers stroking the tip through the denim. She hovered her face over Lincoln's and their noses rubbed gently together. Lincoln bruised her hair out of her face and kissed her.

Lola squeezed her eyes so hard that colors burst across the backs of her lids. She grinded her teeth together and fought back tears. She shook her head from side to side as if in denial of what was happening to her, and hot beads of tears dribbled down her high, arrogant cheekbones. If anyone who knew her were to see her now, they would say that she seemed somehow smaller, weaker, like a little defenseless puppy.

When she dared to creak one eye open, she was greeted with the most horrible sight she had ever seen. Lindsay was stretched out on her back and Lincoln was propped up on his elbow beside her. He threaded his fingers through her hair and grazed his nails over her scalp. Her eyes were rolled back into her head and her tongue lolled out like a dog's. Lola's bottom lip began to quiver and tears flooded her eyes. She loved Lincy's head scratchies...and he was giving them to that bitch Lindsay Sweetwater.

Lindsay sat up and she and Lincoln kissed as he slowly undressed her, their tongues visibly swirling around one another. Lindsay's dress slipped down one cream colored shoulder and Lincoln unbuttoned the front, throwing it off. Now she was in her underwear. She reached behind her, unclasped her bra, and tossed it aside, baring her small breasts and her rosebud nipples. Lincoln grinned ast her and she laid back. He trailed kisses over her chest and stomach, working his way down to her legs. He kissed her inner thighs, her knees, her feet, moving back up to her chest. He flicked her nipple with the tip of his tongue and her breath caught. She closed her eyes and arched her back, her breathing heavy and rasping. He rolled her onto her stomach and kissed her back and shoulder blades, then hooked his hands into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her thighs, revealing her tight, heart-shaped butt. Lola watched, breathless and tearful, as Lincoln took his jeans and underwear off. His massive dick sprang out and Lola caught an all too breif flash of it before he mounted Lindsay from behind. He spread her butt cheeks with his hands and nestled his dick between them. Lindsay threw her head back and moved her hips while Lincoln began to rub himself back and forth.

Lola turned her head and closed her eyes, but she was drawn instantly back to the spectacle before her. Lincoln laid his hands on Lindsay's shoulders and thrust his cock back and forth between her cheeks. They both panted and moaned in pleasure, which sent sharp pangs of need through Lola's center. Lincoln bent over and attacked the side of Lindsay's neck with hungry kisses, their hips moving in time. Soon, they changed positions, Lindsay on her back with her legs up, feet pressed together. Lincoln kissed the soles of his feet as he thrust between her thighs, She eventually spread her legs and Lincoln guided his cock to her entrance. Instead of putting it in her, however, her ran his tip up and down between her lips. Lindsay's face was beet red and her tiny breasts heaved with the tide of her breathing. Lincoln thrusted up and down, his dick pointed at her face, and they both moaned. He went faster and faster, coming close to penetrating her but never quite going in.

The sound of Lola's soft weeping turned Lincoln on even more and he pressed his dick to Lindsay's opening. They looked at each other for a tense moment; both wanted to go all the way, but neither was brave enough to take the plunge. He pulled back and returned to hot dogging her pussy.

Turned on and filled with bitter jealousy, Lola watched, feeling hot and flushed. Before long, Lindsay bucked and cried Lincoln's name, and Lincoln reached his own peak, his dick erupting and spraying cum all over Lindsay's little tits. Panting, they lay next to each other and cuddled for a while as Lola sobbed.

After what felt like forever, they got up and got dressed. Lincoln untied Lola and she just sat there with her head down, broken and dead inside. He took her hand, pulled her to her feet, and blew a kiss to his new client as he led her out of the room.

That night, Lola cried herself to sleep.

It was the first time, but it would not be the last.

Three days later, Lindsay stood proudly at her trophy case and polished her new first place trophy...her first in months, Lola was so messed up over what had happened that she dropped out of the competition at the last moment. Lincoln, laying on Lindsay's bed with his hands laced behind his head, watched Lindsay's joy, pleased with the way things had turned out. At home, Lola respected him more now because as sad as she was, she realized that it was her fault and that he no longer feared her. Though she had skipped the last competition, Lola wasn't done. Lincoln could sense the fire returning to her since she had stiff competition for once.

Turning from the trophy case, Lindsay beamed at him. "It's time for a reward, Lincy," she said. "You've been working very hard." She sauntered over to the bed and Lincoln sat up. She went into a seductive striptrease, pulling her dress down one shoulder and then the other. Her hips swayed and swiveled with hypnotic grace and she ran her fingers through her hair, winking ast him over her shoulder. She unzipped the back of her dress and pulled it down her naked back, shoulder blades flexing beneath her freckled flesh. The dress pooled around her ankles and she stepped out of it. She bent over, ass in Lincoln's face, and pulled her thong up, the fabric disappearing between her cheeks, She sat in his lip and grinded herself against his erection. Lincoln ran his hands up and down her flanks and she threw her head back, letting him kiss her neck. She spun around, knelt on either side of him, and hugged him close as she bounced up and down.

Lincoln laid back on the bed and Lindsay dug her heels into the bed, hovering her barely clothed pussy over his face. She lowered herself onto his face and rubbed herself back and forth, the feeling of his nose and chin sending electric jolts into the center of her soul. She raised up and brought herself down again; wet heat rolled from her in waves and the crotch of her panties were so wet that Lincoln's face was lightly covered in moisture. She held herself up and Lincoln gripped her calves, assisting her in keeping her balance. He blushed furiously and his eyes were hazy with love drunkenness.

"There's plenty more where that came from," she said, "as long as we keep beating Lola."

That made Lincoln smile.

Oh they would.

They would beat her every time...and sooner or later, he was going to fuck Lindsay Sweetwater silly.

THE END