A/N: This chapter has a graphic scene of a sexual nature. You've been warned. This would have been uploaded sooner if didn't do maintenance. Read and Review.
It was Sunday morning, she woke to another erection, tenting her sheets and pulling her from her usually late morning sleep. She wiped the grogginess from her eyes, staring unbelievably at the offense. Her parents weren't home, so she stood, shivering at the morning breeze drifting through her open window. She tiptoed to her bathroom, turning the water on a reasonably cold setting, and stepped into the shower. She let the water cascade over the top of her skull, falling languidly over her closed eyes, dancing over the standing member at her groin. She switched the weight on the balls of her feet, sidestepping the now freezing water, turning full circle after washing and finally rinsing off. She grabbed her robe, relishing in the warmth of her green terrycloth, dripping all the way back to her carpeted bedroom.
She brushed her hair, pulling the knots and towel drying the thick unruly curls. She pulled on the baby tee, the ones that didn't quite fit right after her augmentation, and baggy running shorts. It was then she noticed that her erection hadn't relented, and the dull ache was finally drawing too much of her attention. She sat on her bed, pressing her back to the headboard. She thumbed the front of her shorts down enough to release the pointing organ, running her hand along the shaft. It wasn't long, but neither was it short, but engorged it honestly looked thick. She was repulsed…but she was also curious.
She'd never masturbated. Ever. She usually stayed away from that area unless she was bathing. Her sex drive was lacking, the most she'd ever feel was wetness, a silent aching thump against her panties, enough to acknowledge but not enough to satiate. But this…hardness was undeniable, and she knew the only way to rid herself of the bulge in her pants was to touch herself. She gripped it at the base, squeezing it loosely as she traced it to the tip. The feelings it elicited were overwhelming. Her toes curled downward as she continued, stroking down to the base and dipping her finger into her surprisingly wet vagina. She pressed in then, resuming her strokes with her other hand.
She was curling inward on herself as she continued, her mouth agape, furiously pulling at herself, relishing the feeling of arousal, the first of its kind in her lifetime. She felt the steady build, bubbling at the base of her stomach. She almost stopped herself, not sure of the outcome that would result from her frantic ministrations. But she continued, bellowing out as she orgasmed, the clear, sticky liquid seeping slowly down her hands. She fell against her bed, breathless and spent, closing her eyes momentarily before jumping up and heading back to the bathroom.
She washed her hands, then her face; staring at the mirror in front of her. She felt kind of disgusted, but she was satisfied. Her dark features were flushed, strings of her hair flat around the edges of her hairline. Her skin was glowing and she was tired, thinking about sleeping. Her stomach rumbled, and she decided that eating first was probably a good idea. She slipped on her flip flops, jogging briskly to the kitchen. She began making her sandwich, piling on meat cheese and lettuce, opting to skip the mayonnaise. As she spread mustard on her roll, the doorbell sounded.
She was skeptical. They rarely had visitors Sundays. Brittany had her own key for years, especially when her parents decided to move to a smaller house after Brittany's sister got into that Mensa school. The blonde was ditsy at times, but she never lost her key to the Lopez house, as it was usually clipped to the cheerios bag that was always in her trunk. She opened the door, slightly confused when she saw Rachel Berry standing there, a knowing smirk plastered on her devious little face.
"Who the hell told you where I live, Manhands?"
She walked in uninvited, walking past her and into their foyer.
"There aren't many ranch houses in this tax bracket, Santana, it wasn't hard. And shouldn't I be calling you that?"
She blanched. Shutting the door and speeding past her toward the kitchen, trying to find something to do with her hands other than strangling the Jewish girl silently following her.
"And what does that mean, freak?"
She was spreading more mustard on her sandwich.
"Can we cease with the name calling? I've come to make a deal with you, Santana. Are you interested?"
"Why would I bargain with you? I only make deals that benefit me and being as though you have nothing to offer— I think you should leave."
"Well, I beg to differ. I want to try out for the Cheerios. And I know you can put a good word in for me with Coach Sylvester."
"Why would I do that? And why the hell would you want to join the Cheerios? And why am I even considering this?"
"Well I know something about you that you might not want to get out. Help me with this and your secret is safe. Otherwise…"
"You know nothing, Berry. And besides, I am no longer head Cheerio, so my word would do nothing. And for your information, once a Gleek, always a Gleek, they won't quit messing with you."
Santana walked away from her, carrying her plate toward the living room.
"Hermaphrodite." It was barely audible, but it stopped her in her tracks.
Her head rolled on her neck before she spun around. She squinted at the girl in front of her, her plate shaking in her trembling hands.
"What did you call me?"
"The same thing you've been calling me since seventh grade, Santana. Stings doesn't it?"
"You know, Berry… I've been a bitch forever. I never try to be anything else. But you—you pretend to be nice and accepting, you tell people they can confide in you, but at the first thing that benefits your sick ascent to popularity you blackmail me? Bravo, Berry."
She watched the small girl slouch in place, pushing her hair behind her ears before speaking, her eyes tearing.
"Look, Santana. I knew coming here with that proposition without… something to convince you to help me that you wouldn't. I just, I told Finn that I cheated on him…and now he won't even talk to me. And… this last week has been worse than normal but—I wasn't going to actually spread that piece of gossip that would be cruel…I just needed leverage. Now that he's quarterback and he dumped me I'm back down to school outcast. I got slushied nine times this week. I just…I'm sorry."
Santana walked over to the island, putting her plate on the marble surface, switching her weight between feet, as she rubbed her eyes, trying desperately to think of what to say to the pint sized drama queen.
"Look. No one knows. No one. Not Quinn, not Puck, not anyone at school. Not even Brittany. Especially not Brittany. And no one is gonna know. Got it?"
Rachel raised her hands, palms facing outward, shaking her head in accordance.
"I won't say a word. I can sign a contract if you like."
She eyed the girl in front of her, her next question burning a hole through her throat.
"How did you find out?"
"Well, um, you see—Dr. Collins left her office and I saw your folder on her desk and I just looked inside. But I promise I didn't tell anyone, not even my fathers and she doesn't know I looked so it's not her fault—"
"Can it Berry. I got it."
Her stomach grumbled. She picked up her messy sandwich, taking a bite from it before discarding it back on her plate. She felt uneasy.
"So you cheated on Finn? With who?"
She watched Rachel squirm again, amused that the tables had turned.
"Well Bella, she's in my ballet class. I just. We just- it was only a kiss."
She took another bite of her sandwich. She nearly choked as the tiny girl in front of her sputtered out her sentence. She wiped her mouth of spare mustard.
"So you're gay." It was a statement.
"I am what I am and that's all that matters. Now I'll be on my way. I can reassure you that your secret is safe with me and that I will keep my word. It would be ideal if you don't say anything about the Finn situation as it would further ruin both of our reputations."
She followed her out. Closing the door and locking it behind her. She went back to the kitchen, grabbing her sandwich and continuing her meal, silently thinking as she sat down at the kitchen table. She loved food. All kinds, any time she could fit in a meal. She would eat almost anything put in front of her; Sue's shakes would clean her system out by dinner time. She all but swallowed her sandwich, tossing the plate in the sink before settling in front of the living room television set. Berry, gay—it figured, she mused. Suddenly, a flash of Berry kissing another girl crossed her thoughts, she felt a slight stirring—mentally kicking herself for thinking the lustful thoughts. She didn't feel as guilty masturbating for the second time that day.
She felt stupid on the cab ride home. She'd gone there with every intention of outing the girl and finding some answers to the constant torture she'd endured over the previous years. When she saw her standing there she'd gotten confident that the girl would have no reason not to comply with her terms. It backfired on her—as most things in her life usually did.
She started her Sunday at ballet, Bella averting her eyes during most of the class. She walked home, personally hurt that she would be blatantly ignored by a girl that she was close to mere weeks before. It had been the closest she'd come to a sincere friendship, and she was somewhat shattered that she was back to being a loner.
"$20.70, Miss."
She shook her head, passing the cab driver the 25 dollars she clutched in her hand.
"Thank you for waiting."
She exited the car, running to the door of her house and walking straight up to her room. She lay on her bed, tracing lazy circles on her stomach. She thought of all the things she could have been doing, but decided against them. She kicked her shoes off and relaxed, bringing her folded arms under her head. She couldn't shake the photo she'd found in Santana's folder. She looked no older than ten in the picture, her flat chest undefined and ambiguous. There was a small penis protruding from her vagina at the top; too big to be anything else, and her mind lingered on what size it would be now. The Cheerio hid it well, especially if none of her peers had ever found out. She was seriously curious, she had so many questions but knew better than to intrude again on the cheerleader. She drifted off to sleep, not bothering to change out of her clothes.
End of Chapter 3
A/N: So yea it's a romance. Next chapter will be posted soon. Please review.