The Devil with 'C'-cups

Jordan looked up from the ground to see the cruel face of a demon smirking at her misery. That face belonged to Christine Banaducci. She was a genius, a prodigy, and a monster. It wasn’t fair that God had given her body of a pinup, a face of the girl next door, and brains cunningly hid behind a vapid exterior. She played into other people’s assumptions and left them gaping in her dust. Unfortunately she was a terror to anyone she considered her inferior- which was everyone, but she had taken a special interest in tormenting Jordan lately.

“Well Luckless? Got anything to say?”

Jordan slowly pushed herself up, wincing at how much she hurt.

“If no one invited her, I suggest we give her the grand tour- starting with the basement?”

Christine walked over and pulled open a trapdoor built into the floor.

Jordan looked at her and then at everyone else in the room. No one met her eyes.

Two guys, jocks that hadn’t bothered to dress up, grabbed Jordan.

“No-no! Don’t do that. Help! Someone help!”

No one helped.

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