Chapter 32: Legs and Eggs

The morning sun glints off Erica's blonde hair as we approach the school. Her long locks cascade over her leather jacket, catching the light like strands of molten gold. The air buzzes with the excited chatter of students milling about the courtyard, their voices a symphony of teenage energy.

As we near the entrance, a flash of green catches my eye. It's Anita Scoops, her poorly dyed hair sticking out like a sore thumb among the sea of more natural hues. She's darting between groups of students, microphone in hand, her hazel eyes wide with desperation behind her thick glasses.

I quickly hide my face behind Erica. I don’t want to be near anyone looking into this whole Lindsey thing after all.

"Hey! You there! Want to be on my podcast? I’m currently investigating the sudden suicide of Lindsey Carter!" she calls out to a startled freshman, who quickly scurries away. Undeterred, Anita spins on her heel, nearly tripping over her own feet as she approaches a cluster of giggling cheerleader boys. "Gentlemen! How about an exclusive interview for 'Salem Sleuths'? With me, the host, Anita Scoops! I promise it'll boost your social media following!"

The cheerleaders exchange bemused glances before politely declining and moving on. Anita's shoulders slump for a moment, but she quickly perks up, scanning the crowd for her next potential interviewee.

Justine, who's been watching this spectacle with growing amusement, decides to make a move. Before I can stop her she saunters over to Anita, her fiery red hair bouncing with each confident step. "Hey there, Green Bean," she purrs, leaning in close. "I'd love to be on your podcast. We could have a real... intimate discussion."

I immediately look to Nikki to see her reaction because I ship her and Justine really hard, but Nikki’s rocking a strong poker face right now. “Fuck!” I voice my frustration out loud.

Anita's eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in discomfort. She takes a step back, almost stumbling over her own feet. "Oh, um, thanks, but... pass," she mumbles, her cheeks flushing a deep red that clashes horribly with her hair. "I'm looking for, uh, more hard-hitting news stories. Yeah, that's it."

Justine shrugs, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Your loss, Scoops. Let me know if you change your mind about that 'hard-hitting' interview." She winks and saunters away, leaving Anita flustered and even more determined to find a willing participant for her podcast.

As we watch this unfold, Erica leans in close, her breath warm against my ear. "What a shitshow," she murmurs, her voice a mix of amusement and disdain. "C'mon, let's get to class before Scoops tries to rope us into her little circus." She wraps an arm around my waist, guiding me towards the school entrance, leaving behind the chaos of Anita's desperate quest for podcast fame.

I can't help but notice how Erica's presence parts the sea of students like Moses and the Red Sea. It's both intimidating and oddly comforting.

"Jason!" Justine calls out, her green eyes sparkling with mischief despite the absolute tragic and public L she just took. "What games have you been into lately? Any good ones?"

I hesitate, memories of the dark room and restraints flashing through my mind. "Honestly, Justine, I'm still kind of just... adjusting. Haven't really had time for games."

Justine's face falls, and I immediately feel a pang of guilt. "Oh, right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's cool," I interrupt, forcing a smile. "I appreciate you asking, though."

Erica's hand finds the small of my back, a subtle gesture of support that sends warmth through my body. I lean into her touch, grateful for her steady presence.

Justine's expression brightens again. "Well, speaking of adjusting, I just started watching Chainsaw Woman, and holy fuck, Makima is my new waifu. I want to lick that scary bitch clean! Head to fucking toe."

I blink, caught off guard by her enthusiasm. "Uh, sounds cool. I haven't watched it yet."

"You should!" Justine gushes. "The animation is insane, and Makima is just... ugh, perfection. Every time I see her, my discharge leaks out of me. Just a little, but I'm not joking."

I nod, not really sure how to respond to that. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Erica shifting uncomfortably.

"I've never read the manga," Erica says suddenly, her voice tight.

Justine and I both turn to look at her, confused. "No one mentioned the manga." I say with a smile, slowly studying Erica's face. She's avoiding eye contact.

‘Is she hiding manga in her room. I wonder if she has any hidden hentai or porn books then?’ I make a note to search her room later.

As we round the corner towards our lockers, my heart nearly stops. Lyra is standing there, her lone visible eye red-rimmed and puffy. The sight of her eye patch sends a jolt of guilt through me, even as my skin crawls with remembered fear.

Erica reacts instantly, her body coiling like a spring as she steps in front of me. "Back off, cyclunt," she snarls, fists clenching at her sides.

I grab Erica's arm, my fingers digging into her toned muscle. "Wait," I hiss, my voice barely above a whisper. "Remember Alicia Carter? If we touch Lyra, I’m pretty sure that fucks up our deal."

Erica's jaw clenches, but she doesn't move. I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves.

Lyra takes a shaky step forward, tears spilling from her remaining eye. "Jason, please," she chokes out. "I'm so sorry. I know what I did was unforgivable, but—"

"I already forgave you," I cut her off, my voice surprisingly steady despite the churning in my gut. "I took your...” I don’t want to say it at school. “We're even."

Lyra flinches at the mention of her eye, her hand unconsciously moving to touch the patch. "But I need to make amends," she pleads. "I can't live with this guilt."

I feel no pity for her. Who is she to dump her guilt on me after what she did?

"Tough shit," Erica spits, her blue eyes blazing. "Jason might've forgiven you, but I sure as hell haven't. You're lucky I don't rip out your other eye right now."

I should feel shocked by Erica's viciousness, but I relish her vibe. "Erica," I murmur, squeezing her arm gently. "It's okay. Let's just go."

As we push past Lyra, I catch a glimpse of her crumpling to the floor, sobs wracking her small frame.

As we walk away from Lyra, Erica's grip on my hand tightens. Her eyes dart around the crowded hallway, scanning for potential threats. Suddenly, she tugs me towards the girls' bathroom.

"Poop?" I ask, glancing nervously at the girl sign on the door.

It’s annoying, but she keeps taking me into the girl's bathroom since we’ve been reunited.

"Pee.” She states to my pleasure. Smelling her shits is gross.

"If we keep this up, someone might see me here?" I ask, fidgeting as Erica locks us in a stall.

"Then they'll deal with me," she growls, her voice echoing slightly off the bathroom stall’s walls. "Your safety is more important than their delicate sensibilities."

I lean against the stall door, trying to make myself as small as possible while Erica does her business. The sound of her zipper and rustling clothes makes my cheeks burn. This is definitely not how I expected to spend my morning.

After she finishes wizzing, we exit the stall together. As Erica heads to the sink, I hear the bathroom door swing open. My heart leaps into my throat as I come face to face with Skye Rider, the arguably coolest girl in school.

Her grey eyes widen in surprise, then crinkle with amusement. "Well, well," she chuckles, her voice smooth as silk. "What have we here? A little lost puppy?"

I look at Erica, annoyed. "Fuck.”

Skye laughs again, the sound light and musical. "Relax, Jason. I'm just teasing. What brings an angel like you to our humble bathroom?"

I've barely spoken two words to Skye before, and now here I am, caught red-handed in the girls' bathroom. The absurdity of the situation hits me, and I can't help but let out a nervous laugh.

"It's a long story," I manage to say, rubbing the back of my neck. I stare at Erica while she’s sitting there singing Happy Birthday in her head as she washes her hands. Say what you want about her, but she does not fuck around when it comes to washing her hands.

Skye leans against the sink, her grey eyes twinkling with mischief. "A long story, huh? Well, we've got time. Unless you're in a hurry to get to class?" She winks at me.

‘I can’t tell if she’s hitting on me or just trying to defuse the situation.’ I sigh.

"Uh…’ I stammer, trying to come up with a response that doesn't break my NDA.

Skye grins, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "You know, Jason, I've always wondered what it would be like to have a boy in here. It's kind of exciting, isn't it? Like we're breaking all the rules."

I gulp wide, desperate to get out of the wrong bathroom. Before I can respond, the bathroom door swings open again. Irma Green stumbles in, her brown hair disheveled and her eyes wide with panic.

"Oh!" she squeaks, freezing in place when she sees me. "I-I'm so sorry! Did I... did I walk into the wrong bathroom?"

Skye chuckles. "No. You're in the right place. It's Jason here who's a little lost."

Irma's face turns beet red. "O-oh, I see." She takes a hesitant step forward, then suddenly freezes. A look of horror crosses her face, and I watch in disbelief as three eggs drop from beneath her skirt, splattering on the tiled floor.

For a moment, we all stare at the broken eggs in stunned silence. Then Irma bursts into tears.

"I-I-I can explain!" she wails, her words coming out in a jumbled rush. "I was trying to keep them warm?” She speaks it like a question, as if she theres a lot more to this than her words are conveying. “I didn't have anywhere else to put them, and I thought maybe if I just... if I just..."

My jaw drops as I realize what she's implying. "Wait, were you keeping those eggs in your...?"

Irma nods miserably, tears streaming down her face. "Please don’t tell anyone!" she yells, her voice echoing in the bathroom.

I can't help it. A snort of laughter escapes me before I can clamp my hand over my mouth. Skye, on the other hand, looks absolutely horrified.

"Oh my god," she breathes, her eyes wide with shock. "Irma, that's... What the fuck? We’re at school!"

Irma lets out a strangled sob and bolts for the door, leaving the broken eggs and our bewildered expressions behind. As the door slams shut, I turn to Skye, still trying to process what just happened.

Erica finishes her aggressive hand wash, and the sound of running water finally ceases after what feels like an eternity. In stark contrast to her meticulous cleaning, she casually wipes her hands on her shirt as she saunters over to us, leaving damp streaks on the fabric. Her piercing blue eyes dart between me, Skye, and the mess on the floor, a mix of curiosity and disgust playing across her features.

"Did Irma just shit out those eggs from her pussy?" Erica asks bluntly, her voice cutting through the stunned silence like a knife.

I nod, still in disbelief at what happened. "Pretty much, yeah. She said she was trying to keep them warm. Which begs way more questions if you think about it." I felt lost in the sauce on this one. And fuck, did I want answers.

Erica's face contorts in revulsion. "What a freak," she spits out, shaking her head. "Who the fuck does that?"

Skye, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly speaks up. Her usual playful demeanor is gone, replaced by a mix of concern and fascination. "Look, I know it's weird as hell, but maybe we shouldn't be so quick to judge. Irma's always been a little... different.”

Erica's eyes narrow at Skye's words, her lips curling into a snarl. It seems like she’s about to tell Skye to fuck off when something catches her attention. Her gaze drifts down to the broken eggs on the floor, a strange curiosity overtaking her features.

Slowly, almost mechanically, Erica crouches down next to the mess. Her long, slender fingers hover over the shattered shells and spilled yolks. She doesn't touch them, but I watch in fascination as she starts comparing the size of the eggs to her fingers, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Erica doesn't respond. Instead, she stands up abruptly, her hands moving to her own body. She presses her fingers against her lower abdomen, then slides them down to her crotch. Her movements are clinical, almost detached, as she measures the distance between her stomach and her groin.

Skye and I exchange bewildered glances as Erica mutters to herself, her eyes glazed over in thought. Finally, she looks up at us, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"How the hell did she fit three eggs inside her cunt?" Erica blurts out, her voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. "I mean, look at the size of these things!" She gestures wildly at the broken eggs. "And there were three of them! Three!"

Skye starts to speak, "No one would think like that—" but I cut her the fuck off because this just became my personal case.

"Wait, but how many could you fit?" I ask in desperation, my eyes wide with a manic curiosity as I look at Erica.

Erica's eyebrows shoot up, but there's a glint in her eye that matches my enthusiasm. Without hesitation, she declares, "Two and a half."

My jaw drops. "Two and a half? How can you be so specific?"

Erica shrugs, a smirk playing on her lips. "I just know my body, babe."

Seeing my enthusiasm, Erica turns to Skye, her competitive nature kicking in. "What about you, Rider? How many eggs could you pack in there?"

Skye stares at the broken eggs on the floor, her brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, she looks up, her grey eyes sparkling with determination. "Four," she says confidently. Then, after a pause, "Maybe even five."

I nearly choke on my own spit. "No fucking way," I sputter, my eyes darting between Skye and the mess on the floor. "That's impossible!"

Skye doubles down, her chin lifting defiantly. "It's not impossible. It's all about technique and... flexibility."

Erica scoffs, crossing her arms. "Bullshit. There's no way you could fit five eggs up there without cracking them."

"Wanna bet?" Skye challenges, her voice low and daring.

I stare at Erica, my eyes begging her to take Skye’s challenge. At this point, watching someone try to shove 5 eggs into their cooter to prove something is objectively funny.

“Alright.” Erica speaks with hesitance, but I can feel it in my bones. She wants to see this bitch become an Egg fiend too.

“How the hell do we even test this?” I wonder.

"Well," Skye purrs, taking a step closer to me. "I suppose we'd need some eggs, a private location, and a very open mind."

*****

We are hanging out in the supply shed next to the baseball field. No one goes near it at this time of day, so we should be fine. Even if we aren’t, it's not my pussy on the line.

The musty air of the supply shed tickles my nose as I watch Erica carefully remove five eggs from the carton we "borrowed" from the cafeteria.

Erica's fingers tremble slightly as she hands the eggs to Skye, her blue eyes narrowed with a mix of curiosity and challenge. Skye accepts them with a cocky grin, her grey eyes sparkling with mischief. She turns the smooth, oval shapes over in her hands as if appraising their quality.

"So," Skye drawls, her voice low and teasing, "what do I get if I can fit four of these babies up my honey pot?"

Erica's jaw clenches, her posture stiffening. "What do you want?" she asks cautiously, her tone guarded.

A sly smile spreads across Skye's face as she leans in close to me, her breath warm against my ear. "How about a kiss from Jason here?" she purrs.

Before I can tell her to kill herself, she beats me to the punch.

"I'm just kidding!" she exclaims, winking at me. "I know you're not on the market, lover boy." Her gaze shifts back to Erica, who looks like she’s about to freak out. "How about this, if I can get four eggs in my queef box, I get to eat lunch with you guys from now on."

Erica considers this for a moment, then nods slowly. “okay.”

"And if I manage five eggs, I want a sleepover at your place, Erica. I've always wondered what the inside of the Knight mansion looks like."

The air crackles with electricity as Erica and Skye stare each other down. I hold my breath, waiting for Erica's response.

"Deal," Erica says.

‘Thank god. I want to see this girl's face so bad when the eggs crack inside of her!’ I’m on the edge of my seat in my head, watching this play out.

Erica steps behind me, her warm breath tickling my neck as she gently places her hands over my eyes.

‘This doesn’t surprise me at all. I figured this is what would happen.’

"Alright, Skye, you're good to go," she says, her voice a mix of challenge and amusement.

I feel a flutter of excitement and nervousness in my stomach. "Erica," I whisper, "if she cracks them, please let me see. I want to witness the disaster."

Erica's lips brush against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Sure, sweetie." she murmurs, planting a soft kiss on my neck. I melt into her touch, momentarily forgetting about the bizarre scenario unfolding before us.

The shed fills with the sounds of rustling fabric and Skye's determined grunts. I strain my ears, trying to piece together what's happening based on the noises alone. There's a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low moan that makes me feel a little weird.

"One down," Skye announces triumphantly. "This is easier than I thought."

More rustling, another grunt. "Two," she calls out, her voice slightly strained now.

I hear her shifting position, followed by a series of small gasps. "Three," she manages, her breathing heavier. "God, this feels so weird."

There's a long pause filled with labored breathing and the occasional whimper. Finally, Skye lets out a triumphant laugh. "Four! Let's go! I fucking did it!"

Erica's hands drop from my eyes, and I blink rapidly, adjusting to the dim light of the shed. Skye stands before us, her face flushed and her hair slightly mussed, but wearing a victorious grin. Her skirt is down, so there's nothing to really indicate that it happened. I look to Erica, but she nods.

“Are you going to go for five?” I ask. Erica can sense my hopes and dreams on the line.

Skye hesitates, her confident demeanor faltering slightly as she contemplates the fifth egg. "I... I don't know," she says, her voice wavering. "Four was already pushing it."

Erica senses my eagerness and sighs. "If you're going for five, Jason can watch it one go in," she says, her tone a mix of resignation and amusement. “Theres nothing really sexy about this.”

Skye's cheeks flush a deep crimson, but there's a glimmer of determination in her eyes. "You know what? Fuck it. I've come this far, might as well go all the way," she declares, her bravado returning.

With trembling fingers, Skye reaches for the hem of her skirt. She takes a deep breath, then slowly lifts the fabric, revealing smooth, pale thighs. My eyes widen as I catch a glimpse of her underwear, already slightly damp from the stimulation of her previous efforts.

Skye moves her panties out of the way and positions the egg at her entrance, wincing slightly as she begins to press it inside. The egg slides in smoothly at first, disappearing inch by inch. Skye's face contorted in concentration, her breathing becoming more labored with each passing second.

‘It’s like a reverse birth.’ I think in disgust.

Gritting her teeth as she pushes harder. The egg is about halfway in when suddenly, a sickening crack echoes through the shed. Skye's eyes widen in horror as a cascade of even more wet crack sounds follows, each one making us all flinch.

"Oh god," Skye whimpers, her face draining of color. "Oh god, oh god, oh god."

We watch in stunned silence as a mixture of egg whites and yolks begins to seep out from between Skye's legs, trickling down her thighs in viscous rivulets. The acrid smell of raw eggs fills the air, making my stomach churn.

Skye looks utterly mortified, her earlier bravado completely shattered along with the eggs. "This is fucking disgusting. I... I can't believe I’ve done this. This isn’t even like me." she whispers as if she’s confused about how she got caught up in all this. "Ugh, is this gonna hurt coming out?” She looks at Erica, but Erica just shrugs while she laughs at Skye.

At this point, I follow Erica’s lead and start dying laughing. “Yeah, that's a really tough break, Skye. Anyways, welcome to the lunch brigade. Talk to Justine for the rules.” I say as I grab Erica’s hand and walk away. “See you then.” I end it.

“There are rules?” Skye stared at us, dismayed as an endless stream of egg kept leaking out of her now sorrowful vagina.

*****

Skye didn’t end up showing up to lunch today. She skipped class after we did the egg thing. If I had to speculate as to why, I would assume five broken eggs were simply too much to deal with at school.