Most people in Tyler City thought Poppy Spangenberg lived the ideal life. Certainly every one of her classmates who graduated sixth grade with her from Millhouse Elementary did. The preteen girl with the slim body and long spindly legs not only earned the top grades in the class and ran the fastest laps in gym class. She was even the first to don a training bra.
Boys salivated at the mere glimpse of the strange edge showing through her shirt. Girls dreamed of their own ascendance into womanhood. Teachers, both male and female, anticipated the inevitable flash of panties during their lecture. Pools formed to bet on the color on hot days. She teased everyone with her sex appeal, a quality she inherited from her mother, the former runway model. Then again, the retired catwalk veteran used those same tricks to snag herself a millionaire husband. Poppy fit into this family well.
That doesn't mean she lacked for friends. During the school year, girls fought for the privilege to lunch with her. Only three girls, Angie, Becky, and Camille, outlasted the others to become official members of Poppy's Posse. However, now that summer had arrived, those three headed for seven weeks of summer camp, leaving Poppy all alone, with no one to do her bidding.
So when Irene Dalrymple called on the second Wednesday after graduation, Poppy felt elated, confused, and not the least bit suspicious. After all, Irene just missed out in joining the Posse with her involvement in the Jason incident during Spring Break. It earned the pretty brunette a deciding NO vote. Even though the girl posed little threat to the leadership of the upcoming Tyler Junior High social scene, Poppy took no chance on an upset.
"Are you there?" asked the voice on the phone. "Poppy?"
"Yeah. What?"
"I know it's the last minute and everything, but would you like to go camping with me this weekend?"
Camping was not a foreign concept to the perfect preteen. Poppy had experienced it at least three times in the past. You pulled the RV up to the campsite, pitch the four room tent the size of a small apartment, blew up the queen-sized air mattresses, and enjoyed the gentle hum of the portable generator while watching scary videos under the stars. There was nothing to it.
"Ah, sure, Irene. I have to verify with my parents. But I don't think they have any film premiers to attend. Or state dinners with the President. It can be a hectic schedule. Let me call you back in a few to confirm."
"I'm looking forward to it, Poppy."
After hanging up, Poppy laid back on her bed and spread her knees again. As she diddled her clit, she thought about Irene. The little brunette hadn't abandoned her like Angie, Becky, and Camille. Then again, the trio would just die if they knew of Poppy's perfectly poisonous plan for embarrassing this Posse wannabe. No one dared to disrupt her perfectly planned procession to the teenaged throne without a consequence.
On Friday afternoon, Mr. Dalrymple pulled his minivan up to the imposing black iron gates of the Spangenberg mansion. Irene jumped out and rang the intercom. "Yes?" came the answer from the other end.
"Hey, Poppy. Sorry we're running a little late. Are you ready?"
"I'll buzz you in. Just follow the driveway up to the veranda."
"All right, but…"
The intercom clicked loudly to signal the end of the conversation. At the same time, the iron gate swung out, barely missing the minivan. Mr. Dalrymple gunned the engine and shot through the opening, stopping on the inside to allow Irene to jump back in. "I didn't trust that gate," he said.
With the girl buckled up, they negotiated the twisty road for a three minute jaunt up the palatial estate. "Wouldn't you rather have a sleepover in there?" asked Mr. Dalrymple.
"I've done that a year or so ago," his daughter said while she got out. "I'm looking forward to getting Poppy into the outdoors." A mischievous grin came across her face. "Yeah, I wonder what she's going to do."
After running up the steps, Irene rang the door chimes and was greeted by the young mistress of the house. Poppy wore her trademark tangerine crop top and aqua nylon jogger shorts, popularly called Poppy's T&A look. The tailoring emphasized the maturing mounds on her chest and the roundness of her perfectly plumped butt. It also left a good portion of her skin exposed, especially on her belly. "How do I look?"
"Good enough to entice high schoolers at the mall. Too bad we're going to the woods."
"Oh well." The fashion-forward girl slung a black duffle huge enough to stuff a body in over her shoulder. "Be a doll and help me with my other bags, n'est-ce pas." She pointed to the three rolling suitcases standing just inside the door.
"We aren't moving there," said Irene, ignoring the horrible attempt to impress with French. "All you need is a change of clothes and your sleeping bag. And of course, your swimsuit."
"But, what if…"
"The bears don't care what you look like. I doubt we run into any boys you need to seduce. Besides, we don't have a lot of extra room in the car."
"Did you say car? Not, an RV?" Poppy rolled her perfectly pampered eyes which came to rest on the girl's body.
"I suppose if that's what you are traveling in." The rich girl looked down her nose at the too tight cream-colored tee shirt stretched tight across Irene's newly sprouting titties. It was hard to miss the dark areolas poking under the fabric without the thought of a support garment to cover them. Irene's faded denim short shorts had a couple of strategically worn holes that gave the observer the impression she wore no panties under them. They did however show off her well-toned legs.
With a sigh, Poppy pulled her camo-colored designer sleeping bag out of the duffle and a couple of garments from the largest suitcase. She stuffed the clothes into a small pink backpack along with a huge oversized beach towel. "Better?"
"Much."
Poppy picked up a hard-shelled purple plastic case and looked at the disapproval on Irene's face. "I can't bring my makeup kit either?" Irene simply shook her head.
"We could always share outfits," said Irene to the horrified girl. "Or not."
Before anything else got added, they closed the door and jumped into the middle seat of the minivan. For better or worse, their adventure had begun.
The first half of the ride proved awkward. Neither Poppy nor Irene knew how to break the ice after their chilly breakup in the spring. Mr. Dalrymple tried to stimulate the conversation with leading questions, but only when the subject mentioned an incident from their fifth grade days did his banter strike a chord.
"Wasn't that when Tommy Mays lost his pants?" asked a chuckling Irene.
"Now I remember that day," giggled Poppy. "I ended up holding his jeans for ransom." Both girls laughed for several miles.
"So what really happened?" asked the driver when they returned to their serious state.
"It was in science," said his daughter. "Mr. Zircov's class. We were learning about gravity or something."
"That's right," chimed in Poppy. "Tommy was up at the board and…" Both girls broke back into giggles.
"Well?" asked Mr. Dalrymple.
"Oh, Dad, are you sure you want to know?"
"The suspense is killing me."
"So, Tommy's up at the board and has to reach really high to write the answer," says Poppy. "And then, 'POP' and his button on his pants bounces off the wall and clatters back to the desks."
"And the pants drop to his ankles," continued Irene. "He's standing up there in his Spider-Man briefs, facing the board."
"And Mr. Zircov's so oblivious," said Irene. "His mind was, like, light years away when it started."
"It must have been so embarrassing for the boy," said Mr. Dalrymple.
"Now comes the best part," said Poppy. "Tommy turned around to see what's so funny. And his little web slinger is poking out his fly." The girl broke into hysterics.
When Irene recovered, she said, "His little thingy was just so cute, sticking straight out like that." Then she shyly added, "It was the first penis I ever saw."
"I think he used to play with himself during class and even up at the board," said Poppy. "Though I never caught him doing it after that. At least not in class."
"Yeah," agreed Irene.
"So then he turned bright red, matching his briefs, and stumbled out of the room, leaving his pants behind. That's how I ended up with them."
Irene continued at little more subdued. "After that, no one would sit with him in the cafeteria. He was creepy, staring at us from across the room."
"He wasn't so bad," said Poppy. "We played doctor a few times that summer."
Irene pointed at her father and frowned. Perhaps that was a little too much information.
"Don't worry," said her old man. "I played that game when I was your age too. A natural curious reaction. All kids should explore it."
Irene tried to change the subject from her father's creepy remark. "So did you two ever…"
"No, Tommy had a huge crush on Natalie Kowalski. He just didn't want to look totally dorky in front of her."
"But didn't Natalie have the hots for Andy?" For the rest of the trip, the pair in the back seat outlined the entire social ladders of Millhouse Elementary. By avoiding their own relationships, it sounded like they were the last remaining virgins moving into the seventh grade in the fall.
Mr. Dalrymple pulled into Owl's Cove Park without a clue about the current state of his daughter's love life. Probably, just as well. He might have gotten lost on the way to their remote campsite if he fantasized about her trysts.
"We have a nice location," he said. "Overlooking the lake, but hidden from others. There's a short path if you want to take a swim later."
He pulled into a parking spot and unlocked the doors. The girls got out, Poppy rather reluctantly. "We're camping in a parking lot?" the pampered girl asked.
"No, silly," said Mr. Dalrymple. "Our site is just up that path about a half mile. We can't get up there unless we hike. We have to carry our gear up there."
Poppy realized just how lucky she was not to have all that luggage she packed. Now if there was only a nerdy boy around to entice to be her personal porter, her life would be practically perfect.
"It's not a bad hike," said Irene. "I've been here before. Trust me. The view from the top is worth the walk."
Mr. Dalrymple loaded up the food and tents on a green wagon, leaving the girls only responsible for their sleeping bags and clothes. Perhaps it would get better, thought Poppy.
The girls headed up the path first. When they were out of her father's earshot, Irene asked, "What did you really do with Tommy?"
"He talked me into giving him a blow-job," said Poppy. "Right then and there, I pledged not to have sex with anyone ever again until I get married."
We'll see about that, thought Irene.
Poppy admired the view at the beautiful blue lake from Site 17. "It's gorgeous," she said.
"I told you it would be," said Irene
"So where do we change into our swimsuits?"
"In our tent," said Irene with a smirk.
"What tent?"
"The one you and I still have to pitch. Unless you'd rather just change on the grass."
"We have to set it up ourselves?" Poppy's indignation could have been heard in the parking lot. Her chin dropped to her chest. This trip wasn't going to be just fun and games. "All right, what can I do?"
"Let's pitch a tent. Together."
They didn't have to wait long for the supply wagon to arrive. About fifteen minutes later, the girls had their tent erected and staked down. "So is that yours or mine?" asked Poppy.
"Ours," replied Irene. "It's a two person tent. My dad will be putting his up later."
Their tent was an eighth the size of the smallest tent Poppy had ever been in. She couldn't stand inside of it, In fact, she could barely squat. It might allow for two bodies stretched out next to each other, but barely more.
With a sigh, Poppy reached for the sleeping bag to untie it. "Don't unroll it yet," said Irene. "You don't want a snake to crawl inside, do you?"
"A… snake? Certainly not." Poppy glanced around for the creatures before unzipping the structure. After she stepped inside, Irene barged in behind.
"I was going to change," said Poppy, hinting for the other girl to visit with the snakes outside.
"Good idea," said Irene. "I'm going to also. We are just girls, right?"
"Well, yeah."
Without an objection, Irene pulled her tee shirt over her head. "It's so nice to get that off. I like my little boobies to breathe."
Even in the dim light, Poppy had to stare at the newly-exposed little cones on display. She wanted Irene to twist the nipples to make them stand up at attention like she did to her own in private.
"Your turn," said the half-naked preteen. "You shouldn't be embarrassed. We'll be taking showers after gym this September. I'm pretty sure the other girls will be dying to see your perfect titties."
"Well…yeah…but…" Sensing she had to strip, Poppy pulled off the tangerine tank top and unhooked the training bra underneath. As it fell off her shoulder, so did the perfectly molded tissues underneath.
"You…are…flat-chested," exclaimed the astonished Irene. "You are such a liar."
"You can't tell anyone," said Poppy. "I'll be so embarrassed."
Irene paused for a moment. "All right. Everything inside the tent stays in the tent. Don't worry, Poppy. You'll undoubtedly get them sooner than later. And of course, they will be a perfect pair. Now let's get those swimsuits on."
When they emerged from the tent, the girls witnessed Mr. Dalrymple cursing at the tarp on the ground. "Where are those fucking sticks?"
"What's wrong, Dad?"
"Someone repacked the tent and forgot to wrap the support poles up. It's worthless without those damn poles." He glanced over at the girls in their skimpy two-piece suits. That perfectly spellbinding sight momentarily quenched his temper.
Poppy's zebra stripes barely rippled as the skimpy bikini top stretched across her flat chest. The bottom snugly covered her nether regions, though the back panel wanted to shrink into her ass crack. She still wore the previous year's garment, hoping that she filled out a bit before needing another little girl's suit.
On the other hand, his daughter's was too loose. The top slid around to let her growing breast buds escape. The stretched-out elastic caused the bottoms to droop against her butt, desperately seeking a rounder ass and threatening to fall at any moment.
"What are you going to do?" asked his daughter, snapping him out of his fantasy.
"I guess I'll have to bunk with you two."
"There's barely enough room for us," said an indignant Poppy still hoping an RV would drive up to their rescue.
"He's kidding," said Irene who turned to her father. "You are, aren't you?"
"Ah…yeah," he said with a heavy sigh. "I guess I'll have to head back to the car. Go get dressed."
"Why?" asked his daughter.
"I can't leave you here all alone, can I?"
"We'll be fine," said Poppy. "We're almost high schoolers, you know. Well, junior high schoolers, but still."
"We won't talk to strangers," said his daughter. "Or feed the animals. Or…"
"All right. I'll be back in a little while. In the meantime, hang around the campsite."
Irene rolled her eyes. "Yes, Father."
After the man left, Poppy unzipped the tent and began rummaging through her pink backpack. "Damn, where is it?" she muttered.
"Whatcha looking for?" Irene asked.
"Nothing."
"Ah, did you find it?"
"No," Poppy said shortly.
"You didn't find nothing?"
Poppy realized how silly that sounded. "I was looking for my tin of mints. Like I said, nothing."
"Here, try one of mine," said Irene. She flipped open the blue tin. Poppy stared at the container for a moment until Irene prompted, "Go ahead. They're not poisoned."
"Are they…drugs?"
"No, stupid. They're mints. They'll give you fresh breath."
Reluctantly, Poppy took one and popped it in her practically pristine mouth. Bad breath, indeed.
Irene snapped the tin closed. "Aren't you going to have one?" asked Poppy.
Irene shook her head. "I'm not hungry." She then pulled out two oversized beach towels and stretched them out on the grass. "We can at least work on our tans." She then reached behind her back and unhooked her top.
"What are you doing?"
"Avoiding tan lines, silly. You should try it."
"But, your father."
"He's seen me topless at home plenty of times," she said with a wave of her long brown hair and a giggle.
"He's never seen me."
"Poppy, he saw me flat-chested for years. Besides, he likes Double D's. Now, come on."
Reluctantly, Poppy undid her black and white top and set it aside. She then reached for her tube of sunscreen.
"Oh, don’t use that," said Irene. "I have this special formula right here. Not only protects you from the sun, but mosquitoes and other bugs. And once it dries, it stays on, even if you go in the water. You can swim all day and not need to put more on."
"Special formula, huh?" said Poppy as she examined the tube. "All right, Irene. Rub some on me."
"My pleasure. Trust me. You never had anything quite like it."
Irene squirted several globs on her guest's back and started to rub it in. "How does that feel?"
"It tingles a little. But it feels so good."
"Roll over so I can do your chest and legs."
Poppy turned onto her back. "I'd do anything just so you wouldn't stop."
"I'm glad you said that."
The massage/lotion application continued for several minutes and included every inch of Poppy's exposed skin. At the end, Poppy turned over again and remained on her stomach as her host applied the finishing touches. Once complete, she laid down next to her new best friend.
"I feel funny," said Poppy as she blinked her eyes open.
"Funny, how?" asked Irene. She no longer cuddled next to the other girl. Instead, she sat at the foot of Poppy's prone body.
"All kind of …tingly. I mean, down there." She pointed toward her legs.
"Here?" asked Irene as she rubbed the girl's ankles.
"No, higher." Poppy paused slightly to suck in air between words.
"Here?" asked Irene as she rubbed around the girl's knee caps.
"No, higher." The pause became more pronounced.
"Here?" asked Irene as her nailed raked the inside of the girl's thighs.
"Almost," said the breathless voice as she spread her legs apart.
"Then, it must be here," said Irene as she traced the faint camel toe back to front, pausing at the end to press through the material.
"Oh, yeah," exclaimed Poppy. "That's perfect."
"Too bad," said Irene as she pulled her finger away.
"You bitch," said Poppy as she slammed her knees together. "You are as bad a tease as Carmella."
Irene sat back with a smirk on her face. "Tell me truthfully. Do you fool around with girls often?"
"Yes," blurted out Poppy who tried to cover her mouth.
"Tell the whole truth."
"We…I mean the Posse has a couple of sleepovers." Poppy sat bolt upright. "Why the fuck did I tell you that?"
"Because I ordered you to."
A confused and embarrassed Poppy felt around for her zebra top. Instead, she felt something around her neck. "What is this?"
"Your ownership collar," replied Irene. "You will wear it for the entire campout to show everyone you encounter that I own your body and mind."
Poppy reached for her neck and tried in vain to unfasten the device. Her fingers refused to cooperate.
"You cannot remove it," said Irene. "Even your fingers acknowledge my power over you. Besides, if you could get it off, the collar is merely a symbol. The true power relies on the secret ingredients in the sunscreen I applied to you. Among other things, it is an aphrodisiac to keep you horny. Another drug in the mixture makes your mind susceptible to my orders."
Frustrated, Poppy lowered her arms. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Don't worry," said Irene with a smile. "Nothing nefarious. It's just for the weekend. You won't be getting your own way unless I want you to. I'll make sure you enjoy the time with me as much as I enjoy it."
"Do I call you Master? Or Mistress?"
Irene shook her head. "I just want to be your friend. All right, your bossy friend. BTW, you cannot tell anyone what is going on between us, this weekend or afterwards. That is an order."
The girls sat there in silence for a few minutes, letting the new order sink in. Their thoughts were interrupted by the crash of tent poles dropping by the vacant tarp.
"Sorry girls," said Mr. Dalrymple. "I found the poles in the back seat. A stroke of luck."
While Irene looked away, Poppy formulated a plan to expose her host's treachery. "You look nice," were the words that came from her mouth.
"Ah, thanks," said the man. He then noted their topless attire. "Bold fashion statement. I assume you were sunbathing."
"We have to watch out for those tan lines, Dad," said Irene. "We were thinking about visiting the lake. Mind if we go down there?"
"As long as you use the buddy system, you should be fine."
Irene turned to her friend. "Are you ready to go down?"
Poppy understood the double meaning of the question all too well. She answered not with a nod of her head, but a tongue crossing her lips. The perfect answer, thought Irene.
The girls arrived at the water's edge after a long and convoluted descent, at least in Poppy's mind. At least, Irene had relented and allowed her to put on the zebra bikini top. "First one in…" yelled the perfectly peeved girl, hesitating only to see if her mistress ordered her not to.
Instead, Irene gestured for Poppy to dive in. She then sat back as the icy cold water made the girl scream at the touch. But Poppy did not come racing out of the lake, instead bouncing around in an attempt to wash the offending sunscreen away. Only when she became practically pruny did Poppy emerge.
"There," she exclaimed. "All gone."
"Sit," ordered Irene, sending Poppy's plump posterior onto her towel. "See, I told you. You can't wash it off."
Crestfallen, the defeated girl hung her head. "What do you want of me?"
"Kiss my foot." Poppy leaned forward and planted a perfect pucker on the outstretched extremity. "Kiss my ankle. Kiss my shin. Kiss my knee. Kiss my thigh. Kiss my inner thigh. Kiss my panties."
With each command, Poppy complied. Each kiss became more passionate even without prompting from her mistress. The game had become more acceptable.
"Pull off my panties," said Irene. "Lick my pussy until I climax."
Poppy complied, grinding her mouth against the very wet nether region. Soon Irene shivered under the ministrations of a perfectly placed tongue. The perfectly placated pussy pulsated with its satisfaction. Irene pulled the exhausted Poppy into her arms.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No," admitted Poppy. She had a taste for the perfectly pungent aroma. "You taste just like Angie does."
The two girls cuddled as the sun began settling into the western sky.
The girls sat at the campfire and roasted their marshmallows to make s'mores. Mr. Dalrymple tended the fire, oblivious to his daughter's tryst with her guest. "You two haven't said much since you got back from the lake."
"What did you want to hear?" asked his daughter. "That Poppy gives the best head?"
Their guest sprouted a perfectly petrified expression on her face, but it quickly dissipated with the man's laughter. "Yeah, like that would be what you two did."
The three laughed it off until they heard a rustle of leaves along the path. "Is it a bear?" asked a terrified Poppy.
"Worse," said Mr. Dalrymple. "A science teacher."
Out of the darkness emerged Mr. Zircov, their fifth and sixth grade teacher. He walked over to the campfire and sat down. "Surprised?" he asked.
"Perfectly," said Poppy, but the Dalrymples had mischievous grins plastered on their faces. Poppy took that to mean it was all a setup.
"I had to control myself all school year," said the teacher. "You were the worst cocktease, Miss Spangenberg, that I ever had to put up with. But that time you flashed those purple paisley panties covering your perfect puffy pussy, I knew I had to devise a way to deal with you. Miss Dalrymple, would you do the honors?"
Irene rose and retrieved the camo-colored sleeping bag from their tent. She found a soft sandy spot and rolled the sleeping bag out. "Poppy, come here and remove your clothes."
Unable to resist, the rich girl complied. Again, the captive tissues from her training bra floated to the ground.
"Lie down," instructed Irene. "Spread your legs."
"Irene," said the teacher. "Prepare your perfectly poised pupil."
The girl lowered her face to the perfectly puffy pussy lips and began to lick and suck them with abandon. Within a few minutes, Poppy's private parts were perfectly pliable.
"Enough," said Zircov as he towered over the girls. "Get your sleeping bag and join her."
While Irene ran back to the tent, Zircov continued. "I have waited for this moment. No other student of mine has ever perplexed me with her female wiles. Now it is my time."
He dropped his pants, exposing his prodigious perpendicular penis to the gasps of Poppy.
As he did, Irene laid out her sleeping bag and quickly stripped off her clothes. Then she joined her guest, grabbing hold of her shaking hand. "I wouldn't let you go through this alone," she whispered.
Zirkov knelt on the camo-colored bag while Mr. Dalrymple did the same on his daughter's. "One more thing," said Zircov. "Irene was my first trial of the sunscreen. I only told her of two properties, the aphrodisiac and the one for enslavement. She never knew it increases fertility or that the effects never completely go away. That means that both of you will be sluts for the rest of your lives."
Both girls gasped. But not for the last time.
Zircov nodded to Mr. Dalrymple. "As we planned." Together, they plunged into the two perfectly presented pussies in perfect unison.
Life at Tyler Junior High was so much better than the girls remembered at Millhouse Elementary. Poppy easily became the perfect princess she always aspired to be. Irene joined her, escaping from the wallflower future she seemed destined to follow. Angie, Becky, and Camille formed the core of the popular social cliche, now named Poppy's Pregnant Posse. Even the older girls agreed to the simple requirement just to be in the group. And the junior high boys never had to worry about being turned down again. They only had to seek out the wearer of one of the plenteous ownership collars, the practically prolific accessory around the neck so many pubertal preteens.
The Dalrymple house proved to be the perfect place to hold sleepovers. Mr. Dalrymple provided plenty of perfectly prepared pepperoni and pineapple pizzas. His only payment, a taste of pungent pussy from the pretty pubescent participants. The occasional request to prime them for the inevitable pregnancy made his paltry part in the pernicious process even more precious.
Mr. Zircov accepted a position as the new Health teacher at Tyler Junior High. His first assignment was setting up a new Lamaze class for Spring Semester. And then establishing a waiting list for the completely filled class.
BTW, his formula for sunscreen had been sold off to a multinational drug company for enough money to make his future son's grandparents, the Spangenbergs, look like poor paupers. The perfect product is being pre-marketed to precocious preteens and teenagers in a plethora of prosperous locations. It might be in your local grocery store right now.
Go ahead. Buy a tube and make your daughter popular and promiscuous. Your new grandkids will love you forever.