RIVALRY by Shearingly

My sister, Becky, is a junior in high school. This story is about a rivalry between Becky and the girl who lives across the road. They are both juniors this year but go to different schools (our road is the dividing line between school districts) – we go to Maplewood and Tammy, our neighbor, goes to Titusville.

We moved into this house when I was three and Tammy’s family came a couple of years later. My sister and Tammy have literally grown up together. They played together and were best friends until they went to high school. It wasn’t too bad even then but last year they both were chosen for their cheerleading squads. The school rivalries carried into their personal relationships. The two football teams were good that year, won most of their games and ended up in the playoffs against each other. Tammy’s school, Titusville, won and she was insufferable. She took every chance she could to rub it in our faces – how great her team was. We got sick of it in a hurry. Becky mentioned to me (I’m four years younger and in seventh grade) one day that she’d like Tammy to learn a lesson about humility. That got me thinking.

Through the years Tammy was at our house as much as she was at her own. The girls mostly played together but sometimes they included me so I knew a little about Tammy. She was a beautiful girl – slender, petite, perfectly proportioned with delicate features. Her best feature was her hair. She kept it long – at least halfway down her back, like it is now, or longer, sometimes to her waist. It was a lovely chestnut color with gold highlights throughout. Sometimes she let it hang straight down, but more often she would curl the ends and have curls and waves dancing across her back. She was very proud of her hair. She was also a very clean, fastidious person. If her clothes got dirty she’d run home to change. She never used the bathroom at our house. She never even mentioned bodily functions. If she needed to relieve herself she would think of some excuse to run over to her own house.

Sometimes she “let” Becky brush her hair. She sat in a chair like a princess while Becky brushed and brushed her hair. It was kind of a cruel thing to do because Becky’s hair never looked as good as Tammy’s. It was much thinner and more of a mousy brown. She couldn’t get it long and thick like Tammy’s so she kept it shorter – usually between her chin and shoulders. I think Tammy honestly tried not to make her feel worse, but she was so condescending that I knew it hurt Becky. Once Tammy suggested that Becky color her hair. They got some stuff from the drugstore and Tammy helped her put it on. It was supposed to make Becky’s hair a drop-dead red – it turned purple! Becky was so ashamed she wouldn’t go out for a week. Some months later they tried a perm with equally disastrous results. Each time Tammy would come over she would flip her head around showing off her gorgeous hair making Becky feel worse.

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To add fuel to the fire (or rivalry), Tammy was the sort of girl chosen as homecoming attendant or class officer each year. This year she was elected the junior homecoming attendant. She was so excited and had to show Becky the dresses she bought to wear for the homecoming game and the dance the next night. They were really pretty and I could see Becky getting quieter and more thoughtful the more Tammy rubbed it in – like Tammy really was a princess and Becky an ugly peasant.

The one thing in which they were somewhat equal was cheerleading. Tammy got selected for her squad because of her looks and popularity, Becky was more athletic. She had taken gymnastics since she was little. She was selected because she put herself 100% into the cheering and could do wonderful flips. That kept the two in a tenuous friendship until this season – Tammy’s team hadn’t lost a game and fully expected to beat Maplewood that Friday night (the Homecoming game). That was when her attitude got to be too much and Becky started planning her revenge.

One night, late, I was in Becky’s room talking to her. Tammy had been over earlier showing off her new (and very expensive) perm and talking about her wonderful school. Her new hairstyle was gorgeous – thick chestnut curls cascaded down her back. It looked so soft and inviting but Tammy wouldn’t let anyone touch it. Becky was steaming by the time she left. An idea came to me, something that would completely horrify and humiliate Tammy. When I described it to Becky she agreed to go for it.

The next morning, while waiting for the bus (on different sides of the road), Becky started bragging about Maplewood’s team. She told Tammy that we were going to beat the stuffing out of Titusville and ruin their perfect season. Tammy, of course, rose to the bait. She laughed and taunted us about how we were admirably loyal, but deluded. After more of this bantering, Becky challenged her, “Do you want to bet on this game?”

“Sure,” Tammy replied without even thinking. “What are the stakes?”

“How about if your team wins I become your personal slave for a week. I’ll clean your room, do your laundry, and anything else you tell me to do. Do you like the sound of that?”

“Does that include doing my homework for me?” Tammy asked. She was not the brightest bulb in the Titusville junior class and hated homework. She could see some real advantage in this sure thing.

“If you tell me to, sure.” Becky promised.

“I suppose, if your team manages to squeak out a win, you’d want me to be YOUR slave for a week,” Tammy said sarcastically.

“No. If Maplewood wins, I want you to cut off all your hair and shave your head.”

“WHAT?” Tammy yelled.

“What’s the matter, Tammy, don’t you think your wonderful team will win? Are you afraid of making a simple bet? Just think, if you win you will get to live like a real princess with her own personal slave for a week.” Becky pressed for a commitment.

Tammy got mad enough that she set aside her misgivings and said, “Sure, I’ll bet.” The girls met in the middle of the road with the bus coming and shook on it. “Get ready for Friday night, SLAVE.”

“I sure will, BALDY.” With that we got on the bus and started planning for Friday night. What Tammy didn’t know was that our quarterback (he ended up being chosen All-State), who had been injured the first game of the season, was now completely healed and going to be starting this Friday night. Becky knew because she was a cheerleader, but even the rest of the kids in our school didn’t know that – it was going to be a surprise for Titusville.

The next two days we spent our free time getting ready for Friday night. We knew that if Tammy lost the bet there was no way she was going to cut off her hair much less shave her head – so we would have to help her along. Becky would have to have an airtight alibi so Tammy couldn’t blame her, but we had a plan!

Friday morning, out front, waiting for the bus, Becky said, “Tammy are you ready for the big game tonight?”

She nodded her head and said, “Sure.”

“Do you remember our bet?”

“I certainly do,” Tammy said. “I have a list of things for my personal slave to do. I hope you don’t have any plans for next week.”

They talked some more and Becky went across the road to show Tammy a new cheerleading routine they would be using that night. Tammy watched intently thinking she could tell the rest of her squad and they would do something to upstage Becky’s squad. Of course, Becky didn’t show her anything they really planned to use, it was just a ruse. While Tammy was distracted, I snuck around and put a note in her History book. The note said, “Meet me at the old Johnson barn after the game tonight. Don’t tell anyone. Come alone.” and it was signed “Mike.” Mike was Tammy’s boyfriend. He was a senior and she was really chasing after him. He didn’t seem too interested, from what we could find out, but Tammy was hoping to change his mind. The old Johnson barn was a place teen lovers sometimes went to be alone. We knew she would come.

She didn’t suspect us. For one thing, she’d never seen Mike’s handwriting to know ours was a forgery. She opened her History book in class and saw the note and just about swooned. She turned to Mike and gave him her sweetest smile. He must have wondered what she’d eaten for lunch to make her do that.

Tammy had her drivers license and her folks had gotten her a car but they wouldn’t let her drive it every day to school. They did let her drive it to the game that night. I went to the game on my bike and stayed until only three minutes were left. I loved watching Tammy jump around cheering. Her lovely curls bounced and bobbed up and down – they looked alive. Maplewood was ahead by eight! Our quarterback was having a great game and even though Titusville played their usual good game, we were even better. I listened to the rest of the game on the radio (broadcast by the local AM station) while I biked out to the old Johnson barn. I knew Tammy would come, so I got everything ready and took my position.

Titusville lost. I’m not sure what we would have done with our plan if they had won, but it didn’t matter now. Thirty minutes after the game was over I heard a car pull into the barnyard. The little side door creaked open and Tammy’s voice called, “Mike? Are you here?” It was dark inside and she couldn’t see anything. It looked like she might turn around and leave so, putting a hanky over my mouth and pitching my voice low, I said, “Tammy?”

She came right in the door then, saying, “Mike? Where are you? It’s so dark in here.” Finally she was standing in the middle of the lasso loop that I’d laid out on the floor. With a quick pull her feet were ensnared and she was lying on the floor. She’d fallen on her stomach and her breath was knocked out of her. I had an easy time with her while she was struggling to regain her breath. I dragged her over to some bales of hay I’d arranged and tied her arms together behind her back.

I was dressed in black plants, black shirt and had a black ski mask over my face. She couldn’t tell who I was, in fact, she could hardly see me. I was tall and big for my age and had no trouble handling her because she was so tiny. When she finally could breath normally she was tied hand and foot. She started to speak, “Who are you? What are you going to do? Please don’t hurt me? Are you going to rape me? You aren’t Mike, are you?”

I stood behind her and unscrewed the cap of the bottle in my hand. This wasn’t part of the bet, but would add to her discomfort and Becky’s revenge. With one hand I pinched Tammy’s nose so she couldn’t breathe. When she opened her mouth to gasp, I placed the neck of the bottle in and started pouring the 12 ounces of castor oil down her throat. We figured it would take about 45 minutes for it to do its job. She let some escape down her chin, but most of it went into her stomach.

I propped her on her knees leaning against a bale of hay and then sat on a bale next to her and plunged my hands into her luxurious mane of chestnut curls. I wanted to see what I was doing so I turned on a battery operated, high intensity lamp that illuminated her head but left me in the shadows. I couldn’t take too long, but I wanted to touch and feel her hair while it was still attached to her head. I lifted up the soft strands and rubbed them against my cheek. I could smell the combination of shampoo, hairspray and perfume that wafted from it.

Finally I picked up a pair of scissors and lifting the lock of hair right at her forehead I placed the scissors against her scalp and snapped the blades closed. The soft tress came free in my hand. I carefully placed it in a box and lifted up another. When Tammy realized what I was doing she tried to struggle, but was too well tied. She crumpled in defeat, sobbing. I eagerly snipped away exposing her white scalp in ugly patches. She looked like she had some kind of disease, like mange. The pile of hair in my box was growing as her head of hair diminished. I paused after cutting the hair on top of her head as short as I could. She looked so funny with a short, uneven top and long curls hanging down all around. I pulled out a set of cordless hair clippers and snapped them on. The sight and sound of the clippers brought fresh tears from Tammy. In minutes I had zoomed around her head buzzing off the remaining chestnut tresses leaving a sixteenth of an inch of stubble. I wasn’t finished. Some shaving cream and a disposable razor finished her humiliation.

I wiped the leftover shaving cream off with a towel and rubbed some baby oil on her bald scalp to make it shiny. Then I repositioned her, laying her on her back across a couple of bales of hay so her head hung down on one side and her legs, the other. I lifted up her cheerleader’s skirt and using the scissors, cut through the sewn-in crotch. I also cut through her white, cotton panties and pulled off the pieces exposing her thin patch of pubic hair.

I didn’t have much experience with this, but I was determined. I’ve got to admit, though, that it sure excited me to have this beautiful seventeen-year old girl under my power. Becky knew this part would give me trouble. We had argued about even doing it, but I persisted and she finally gave in. She even consented to let me practice on her! I shaved Becky twice down there to make sure that I wouldn’t do any damage to Tammy. I kind of think Becky liked the experience. I know it was a turn-on for me.

Tammy was so upset she hardly knew what I was doing. I ran the electric clippers around her crotch to get the hair as short as I could. I then lathered her up with the shaving cream and scraped it off with disposable razors. It took several because I didn’t have a good way to rinse them clean and they kept getting clogged up with hair. While I was finishing it up I heard her intestines start to rumble. I knew that part of her humiliation wouldn’t be much longer, but I hoped it came at the right time. Finally I was done and wiped the rest of the shaving cream off her satiny smooth crotch.

I helped her to her car and had her lay on the back seat. I drove the car into town (I was too young for a license, but had experience driving tractors and other farm equipment). Two blocks from the Kool Kream, where Becky and her whole cheerleading squad were celebrating the victory, I honked the horn three times quickly so Becky would know I was coming. I drove to the Kool Kream and parked around back. Tammy still couldn’t see my face and had no idea who I was. I untied her hands and feet, then helped her out of the back seat. Holding onto her arm, I led her to the corner of the building. Then I gave her a gentle push around the corner so she was in plain view of all the kids gathered out front.

“Tammy,” Becky called out, she had been watching for her to appear. I ran behind some cars where I pulled off the ski mask and changed my shirt. When I came back out Tammy was surrounded by Becky’s cheerleading squad. I heard Becky explaining, “We had a bet that if Titusville lost tonight, Tammy would shave her head. I didn’t think she’d actually do it, but here she is to prove that she did. Aren’t you a brave girl.” Becky patted Tammy on her bald head, then rubbed the newly shaved, smooth scalp. “Ooooh,” she squealed, “this feels neat.” She made all the other cheerleaders come over and rub their hands on her head also. Tammy kept trying to get away, but the cheerleading squad surrounded her. She mumbled something about the restroom, but Becky kept a good grip on her arm.

All of a sudden the girls heard some loud, suspicious noises coming from Tammy’s rear end. Becky sniffed the air, “Something smells funny. Is that you Tammy?” They stood back and noticed a brown liquid running down her legs. “Tammy, did you have an accident?” Becky lifted up Tammy’s skirt and all the girls saw the brown discharge still spurting out of her bottom. They laughed and laughed and laughed, holding their sides and collapsing on the sidewalk. Tammy just stood there completely humiliated.

We sure ruined Tammy’s homecoming weekend. Of course, she blamed us, even though Becky had an alibi – she had been at the Kool Kream since the game was over and never out of sight of thirty kids. No one suspected me as the accomplice – everyone thought I was too young to accomplish all that plus they figured no 7th grader was smart enough to pull that off and drive the car. Funny thing about it, we wanted to make Tammy ugly, but she had a nicely shaped head so it made her look more sexy. She found out that her hairless look got more attention from boys than her long curls did. Mike even showed some interest in her (for real) for a while. Even though she couldn’t prove it, she knew that we were behind her humiliation and she never came over to our house again. But neither did she torment Becky any more.



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