This is the twentieth part of a fiction serial, in 761 words.
The next morning, Gabby was up early, keen to continue. She knocked on Steve’s door.
“Get up and get dressed. There’s tea and toast ready, you can have a shower tonight. I want to get more stuff down on tape”.
Not usually a morning person, Steve decided to play along. He was already liking what he had been hearing so far, and was becoming keen to discover more about how Gabby had worked that plan out so long before implementing it. He had the recorder going and his notebook ready before he had even had one bite of the now lukewarm toast.
“By the time I got to fourteen, I was working hard at school, still running things at home, and had got rid of most of the blokes who wanted to come into my room. I kept a couple of regulars on the hook, ’cause they paid the most. I moved the telly into my room, as mum never watched it anyway, so I shut myself in there and watched a lot of crap. The main thing I noticed was how some horrible slags were becoming celebrities. Fat girls who had lost weight, thin girls who had got fat, slags who shagged guys on reality telly shows like Big Brother and Love Island. Those whores were turning up all over the place. Even Mastermind had contestants described as Influencers, and even though they were as thick as shit, they still got their performance fee”.
Steve was scribbling down random notes like Influencers and You Tube, as Gabby droned on.
“Now don’t get me wrong. Men are shit. All men, bar none, including you. Shit, pure and simple. But now there were girls and young women who would shag anyone for fame. Not only that, they went on telly documentaries boo-hooing about having issues like Bulimia and Anorexia. Then the next day they were posting on You Tube and Instagram about how you needed to have painted on eyebrows and lip-plumping to get a boyfriend. You know the sort, I’m sure. It wasn’t long before I found out that some unspeakable chav in Essex had over four million followers on social media, and was earning ten grand a month just for looking fat in leggings and posting tips about make-up”.
Smiling, Steve agreed. “Oh yeah, the cult of non-celebrity, I did a piece on that”. Gabby ignored him as she carried on.
“So I thought I can do that, and can do it better than them no-nuffings. But it needed a proper plan, and I was too busy with my school work to have time to do that. Then the penny dropped. I didn’t need to do the school work, if I exploited my situation. It was obvious to me at fourteen that some of the teachers fancied me. Not just the men teachers, some of the women too. I was already cutting my own hair really short, as I couldn’t afford to go to a hairdresser. My curves were developing nicely, and my tits were already bigger than most of the girls in the school. I knew what to do, and set about doing it”.
The toast was cold by now, but Steve ate it anyway. Then he slurped down the rest of his tea.
“The women were the easiest, as it turned out. Hang back after a lesson, look sad, and they come up to you, asking what’s wrong. A few crocodile tears, a cuddle that lasted a bit too long, then that eye to eye contact that lets you know they’re interested. Most of them were married, but I was their fantasy. As for the real lezzers, they were putty in my hands. They suggested extra lessons, two of them even invited me to their houses to do those lessons. It was so easy just to end up in bed with them. I preferred them to men anyway, to be honest. But then they had completely ballsed up their careers, so when I told them they had to do my course work, they had no choice. Same with the men teachers, who were looking at serious prison time if I blabbed. Honestly, Steve, I can’t begin to tell you how easy it was. Underage sex is like a drug to those bastards”.
Making a fresh cup of tea, Steve could not help smiling. “If we do this, we will have to name all of them, you okay with that?”
Gabby replied before he got back with the tea.
“You can bet your life. They all deserve what they get”.