Gold Stars
mc; Mg; gg; Mdom; oral
While all grades in Lincoln Elementary School ate lunch at the same time, Mr. Peterson's class tended to avoid mingling, even with other third graders. Instead they clumped in a few big groups and chatted among themselves while they ate. The largest gaggle of Mr. Peterson's students was camped out at the far end of one of the long lunch tables that filled the cafeteria. The group was comprised mostly of girls, with a couple of the boys who the girls had decided were not too gross to sit with them.
“No fair. You only had six stars before we left - I saw,” a girl whined. May was holding out her left arm for the other kids, displaying six stars in a line on her skinny forearm. In addition to the one on the back of her hand, which every student in Mr. Peterson's class received in the morning, May had claimed seven stars. The stars were cheap stickers: yellow, five-pointed, and just over an inch in diameter. Despite their plain appearance, the students coveted the stars beyond the point of obsession.
May gave her challenger an exaggerated eye-roll and pulled her arm back to resume eating her lunch. Before taking another bite, though, the little girl said pointedly, “I gave Mr. Peterson my panties before I went to lunch. So that's how I got another one, stupid. I bet you're still wearing your undies, right, Emma?”
“He won't let me give 'em to him anymore,” the challenger, Emma, said sulkily, moving corn around on her plate with a plastic fork.
“You kept not taking them back at the end of the day,” one of the boys, Dylan, chimed in helpfully. “Your parents noticed, sent that letter...”
Dylan trailed off as Emma rounded on him with a 100-watt glare. The boy shrugged and returned his attention to his meal. He did not know why Emma was complaining; the day was only half over and she already had five stars. Dylan still only had the token sticker on the back of his hand. It was harder for boys to earn stars because Mr. Peterson was not really interested in boys.
“How'd you get five already, Emma?” a brunette asked in a not-so-subtle attempt to smooth things over. “I thought you only had three before Math.”
“Yeah, well, I did,” Emma perked up a little. “But 'member I went to use the bathroom? Mr. Peterson said my skirt wasn't short enough for a star, when I came in, in the morning. But when I went to the bathroom, I rolled up the waistband a couple of times. And I took some water from the sink and rubbed it on my panties. Since I sit in front, Mr. Peterson could see my wet panties all during Math. He gave me two stars at the same time!”
Just as Emma was cheering up, May cut in. “You were saying that stuff to me when you just put some water down there? You're a cheater.”
Emma's pretty face wrinkled into a frown as she defended herself. “I never told him I diddled my Skittle. He said he liked seeing me wet and gave me a star.”
May let out a disbelieving huff of air but did not otherwise respond, and Emma knew she had won. No one tattled much in Mr. Peterson's class because they knew he did not like it. Once, he had gotten so annoyed with squabbling that he had taken away a gold star. The idea of losing a star was like losing a limb. The third graders had been timid mice for weeks after that.
“Anyway,” a blond boy, Tyler, interjected, “does anyone want me to pork them in History? I know it's right after lunch but I'm trying to get five stars today.”
Today, Tyler had a sticker on his hand, one on his bicep, and one that Mr. Peterson had slapped on his bare ass cheek. On a boy, three stickers was quite and accomplishment, and guaranteed an almost perpetual erection, so it was no wonder that Tyler was trying to get his pole greased. Before any of the girls - or boys - could take Tyler up on his offer, a petite girl with black hair jerked her head up to look at him.
“I want, want it, more, now, please, me, more, now,” the third grader babbled at Tyler, desperate need kindling in her glassy eyes. Rachel was the high-earner of the day so far. Her outfit, a pink half-top and a skirt so small it would disappear if you sneezed at it, was a testament to her commitment to Mr. Peterson. There was a sticker on the back of each of her hands; three in a small arc on her forehead, partially hidden by her bangs; one covering each of her nipples, hidden by her tiny top while at lunch; and four clustered in a tramp stamp on the small of her back. With eleven gold stars, it was a wonder that Rachel could talk, and completely expected that she was almost incoherent.
“Not now, Rachel,” May said, pulling on the side of the other girl's top and coming dangerously close to exposing a star-covered nipple. Rachel had begun to stand up from her seat when Tyler had made his offer, as if she was ready to lunge across the table at him and rip off both of their clothes. She was. But there had been a similar incident a while back and now Mr. Peterson insisted that his students watch out for each other, so that those too far under the sway of the stars did not cause trouble.
Rachel collapsed artlessly back into her seat as if someone had kicked her legs out from under her. May took a moment to adjust the other girl's skirt as best she could to cover up Rachel's bare pussy. The two girls were best friends after all, and Rachel had done the same for May when May was too far gone to think about anything but sex. Rachel's head tipped forward and she resumed drooling over her food. Literally: the third grader was not hungry, she just hung her head, drooling, waiting for the next time she could have sex. May had even needed to help her friend walk to the cafeteria today, which was annoying but it had also given her the opportunity to hang back at the end of class and offer her panties to her teacher.
“Uh, still open,” Tyler tried again, more discreetly. Without an explicit mention of sex, Rachel was probably too far gone to pick up on anything that was said. A redhead girl across the table from him held a hand out and made a waving motion. Tyler and a couple of the other kids nearby waited for the girl to finish swallowing a mouthful of spaghetti.
“Did you clean off after...” the redhead twitched her head in the direction of Rachel and then brushed loose hair from her face. During Math that morning, three boys had used Rachel, trying to stuff all of her small holes at once. It did not work out well: since the boys were still third graders it was mostly a lot of humping with the occasional lucky poke that might have counted as penetration. Still, Mr. Peterson appreciated the effort, and had given a star to each boy and three to Rachel. Tyler's star had likely been slapped onto his tiny ass because he had been the one reaming Rachel's rosebud.
“Uh, no,” Tyler winced as the girls around him made little noises of disgust. The boy tried to save his chances with his most charming smile. “But you know, Mr. P'll probably think that makes it more kinky. You may even get two.”
The redhead mulled this over as she chewed through another forkload of spaghetti. The blonde next to her was whispering emphatically that there was no way she could be that gross. But when the redhead finished chewing, she gave a sharp nod of her head. “'Kay. I'll lick your butt after it too. It'll be, like, a butt theme.”
“Butt theme!” a few seats away, Emma snorted and dissolved into a fit of giggles. Children all around - those who had heard the redhead and those who were pretending to - laughed along. Breathlessly, Emma choked out, “So Tyler's Tammy's Butt Buddy! It rhymes!”
It did not rhyme, it was barely alliteration, but that did not stop the other students from chanting “Butt Buddies” as loud as they dared without alerting those outside of their group. The redhead, Tammy, had flushed a deep red, made more obvious in contrast to her pale skin, leading the teasing to continue. Tyler sat uncomfortably silent, knowing that for the time being anything he said would make things worse. Eventually the third graders devolved back into their separate conversations and lost interest in teasing Tammy.
One girl, at the edge of Mr. Peterson's students, closest to where the normal students were sitting, had not laughed. She did not laugh at Tammy, chat with other students, or brag about her sexual escapades. She had only one star, on the back of her hand, and she hated it. Well, she wanted to hate it anyway. In fact, she loved it, more than she had loved anything before. But she knew it was a lie.
Millie Allen was not like the other students in Mr. Peterson's class. When everyone reluctantly - really reluctantly! - took their stars off at the end of the school day, they still remembered how good they felt and how much they wanted to earn new gold stars the next day. Not Millie. Millie remembered, in an abstract way, that she loved her stars, but she knew that it was a fake love. She realized - when she had no stars - that the stickers made her want to do bad things. Even during school, when she had stars, she still remembered that she was not supposed to like them. But she still let Mr. Peterson put a star on the back of her hand every morning. As soon as she saw him holding out a star, she could not resist.
Today, Millie decided, that would change. She could not talk to Mr. Peterson during class, when dozens of other students were doing all manner of sexual acts hoping for his approval. Now, though, during lunch, she could talk to him alone, almost. Today, she decided, she would tell him to stop giving her gold stars. As Millie started to stand up, she paused and frowned. Why would she not want more gold stars? She loved getting stars. Even though… it was bad. The stars were bad, even though she loved them. Every day when she got home from school, she could see that. It was just harder to see now because of the star on her hand. The star she loved so much.
The brunette stood shakily, with an effort of will that was Herculean coming from a third grader. Millie tugged hard on one of her braids. The pain helped her stay focused. She left the table without saying anything, even when some of the kids called at her to ask if she was okay. If Millie stopped now, she would give into the star on her hand and run back to the other children, asking them for tips to earn more stars from Mr. Peterson. Things were easier for Millie once she was away from all that talk of sex. She walked through the empty hallways without a pass; teachers had trouble noticing students with stars unless they were doing something really inappropriate.
Millie opened the door to Mr. Peterson's classroom without knocking. She walked into the room parallel with the length of his desk so she could see the small blonde head bobbing between his legs while he ate lunch at his desk. Millie recognized Samantha after a moment. The blonde had already earned ten gold stars this morning, so she was basically the same sex-zombie as Rachel. Samantha probably did not even know it was lunchtime; she had gone from sex act to the next until she had ended up kneeling in front of Mr. Peterson.
“Hi, Millie. Are you done with lunch already?” Mr. Peterson set his almost finished sandwich down on his desk and twisted his head to give her his attention. He could not swivel his chair around with Samantha still sucking him off. Millie walked politely around to the front of the teacher's desk so that he would not have to crane his neck. She had seen much worse than a third grader giving head while in Mr. Peterson's class, and with the star on her hand it did not seem all that strange.
“Yeah, I'm done,” the brunette said as she circled the desk. She remained standing, and being almost equal to Mr. Peterson's height, since he was still sitting, lent her a bit more confidence. “I, um, I wanted to talk to you about the gold stars.”
“Sure,” Mr. Peterson smiled indulgently. Considering that the stars were nearly all that his students could think about, it was hardly surprising.
“I don't want them anymore.”
The teacher's smile froze. “What?”
Millie looked down and to the side, nervously. She loved stars. The one on her hand right now was worth more to her than anything else in the world. But she knew that she would think differently once she took it off at the end of the day. It never occurred to her to peel the sticker off right now. In a smaller voice, the girl tried again, “I don't want you to give me stars anymore. Even, even the one when we come in, in the morning.”
Millie glanced up and saw Mr. Peterson frowning. She looked down again, wilting and hunching over. How could she even think about making her teacher unhappy? If he was unhappy, he would not give her more gold stars, and she loved stars more than anything. Millie took a deep breath and tried to remember how bad she felt every day on the bus ride home. She reached up, without lifting her head, and tugged sharply on one of her braids.
“Millie.”
The little girl looked up. Her teacher was still sitting at his desk, and judging by the wet sounds, Samantha was still under it. But Mr. Peterson had peeled off a star from the roll of stickers he kept on his desk. He was leaning forward, holding out a star towards her. One point of the star was stuck to the tip of Mr. Peterson's index finger but other than that it seemed to be floating, right in front of her. It was the most beautiful thing Millie had ever seen.
“You were a good girl for coming to see me, Millie. Have a gold star.”
Millie mouthed the word “No” even as her hand jutted out to reach for it. She only had one star right now. She wanted another star so much. Two stars were twice as good as one. One star was amazing. She loved her one star. But she would love two stars twice as much. Millie took a step closer. Her small arm actually spasmed as she took the star, losing her own internal fight. By then the star was on her finger and Millie was feeling much better. The little girl lifted her hand and pressed the sticker to her cheekbone. Some of the other girls in class liked to put a star there, just below the eye, and Millie thought it looked cute.
“Come around here, Millie,” Mr. Peterson gestured around his desk to a spot next to him. He stooped a little and pulled Samantha's head up from his crotch. The blonde's mouth came free with a wet squelching sound; she was too stoned to realize what was happening. For her part, Millie never thought about disobeying her teacher. With two stars affecting her, Millie's worries about doing bad things were smothered in the back of her mind. Even if she might not like it later, Millie would do anything for a chance to earn another star. The third grader hurried around the table, tipping up on the balls of her feet as she presented herself happily to Mr. Peterson. The teacher looked her over once, briefly, and said, “Kneel down.”
Millie dropped to her knees fast enough to smack them jarringly against the tile floor. She glanced to her left, where Samantha was kneeling under the desk. The blonde girl's eyes were glazed with lust, with barely more than animal intelligence behind them. There were two stars on her forehead and three others were visible trailing down from her ribs along her tummy. Millie was so jealous. She wanted more stars. She needed more stars. Mr. Peterson had turned his chair to face Millie and was peeling another star from his roll. He reached out and stuck it in the middle of Millie's forehead. The third grader shuddered with pleasure. Any thought that she might later regret what she was doing vanished. Millie knew that there was no way she could ever be upset about getting gold stars. The stars were the center of her world. They were all she could think about.
“Millie, why did you tell me that you don't want stars anymore?” the teacher asked. Millie was too happy to tell him. Giving Mr. Peterson what he wanted was her entire reason for existing; it was the only way she could get more stars. So the little girl told him how she felt after each day, thinking that the stars were bad and that her classmates did bad things to get them. It was disconcerting for Millie, like having to explain why she used to think the sky was red when she knew with absolute certainty that it was blue. When she finished, Mr. Peterson peeled off another star and stuck it on her arm. As Millie trembled under a new wave of lust, almost collapsing, Mr. Peterson said, “I think I'll let you wear one sticker home from now on. Would you like that?”
“Y-yes,” Millie answered breathlessly, her eyes flicking between her teacher's face and the deflating cock that he had not tucked back into his pants.
“Good girl,” Mr. Peterson said encouragingly, peeling yet another star from his roll. This time he leaned forward and shoved his thick hand under the waistband of Millie's jeans, pressing against her belly. Millie barely felt the discomfort; all she knew was that she was receiving another star. The teacher pressed the star flat against Millie's belly, just above her immature pussy. Withdrawing his hand, Mr. Peterson continued, “Let's see exactly how good of a girl you are.”
Mr. Peterson's class returned from lunch more or less in one big group. Tyler and Tammy were the last ones in the room, and they were holding hands despite the occasional jeer from other students. When they entered the room, they saw two girls already on top of Mr. Peterson's cleared desk. Samantha was laying flat on the desk, naked, with her neck straining upward so that her face was wedged between the thighs of another girl. Millie, the other girl, was also naked, and on her hands and knees above Samantha so that she could dip her head down to eat out her classmate. Millie wiggled her tiny butt happily, moving herself against Samantha's tongue and drawing attention to the two stars that were prominently stuck to each of her ass cheeks.
The class quickly settled down as Mr. Peterson stood up to begin their History lesson. The teacher let the two girls continue on his desk, and everyone else ignored them. It was not the first time that the third graders had returned from lunch to find a 69 between two girls. It was not even the strangest thing that they had come back to find. All in all, it was another normal day in Mr. Peterson's class.
