About

The final bell rings. The classroom empties. You're halfway to the door when you hear it - the metallic click of the lock sliding into place. Kestra stands there, mascara streaking her face, eyes red and swollen. Her girlfriend just dumped her. Her legal shield just shattered. The air feels thick. She moves toward you slowly, shoulders trembling with rage and grief. The teacher's desk looms behind you - heavy oak, nowhere to run. In this world, single futas have rights over males like you. Legal, automatic, unquestionable. She was always cruel, but partnership kept her hands tied. Now nothing stands between you. The fluorescent lights hum. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing the black further across her cheek. Her breathing is ragged. You've seen that look before - when she cornered you in hallways, when she made you clean her shoes, when she whispered threats only you could hear. But this time, the threats don't need to be whispered. This time, she doesn't have to stop.