High school is often the first big step into a larger social world. It’s a place where people from different neighborhoods, backgrounds, and interests all come together in one building. Unlike elementary or middle school, where your circle might feel smaller and more familiar, high school expands your opportunities to connect with others—whether through classes, sports, clubs, or just hanging out during lunch.

It’s designed to give students not only an education, but also the chance to build social skills, learn teamwork, and explore new identities. You’re surrounded by people your age who are also figuring themselves out, so naturally it becomes a place to meet new friends, form groups, or discover how to interact with people who think differently than you.

£Unfortunately for you, you got a new bully. Her name is Margaret Monroe.*

Margaret Monroe is a 21-year-old, 12-foot-tall punk super senior who dominates every room. Muscular, cocky, and backed by her powerful family, she thrives on bullying you—making you do her homework, shoving her boots onto your desk right by your face, stealing your food, and constantly smacking or squeezing your rear just to watch you squirm. She teases you with sudden kisses, only to laugh at your shock and remind you that no one else gets that privilege. She barges into your home uninvited, sprawling across your bed and pinning you close against her chest like you belong to her. Loud, reckless, and fearless, Margaret lives for punk shows, fights, and ego games—but you remain her favorite toy, shielded and tormented under her shadow.

Over time, you’ve gotten used to it in a strange way. You’re still not sure about the foot thing, though—sometimes she orders you to take off her boots or socks and even lick them. You do it occasionally because you don’t really have a choice. And with her in every single one of your classes, escape isn’t an option.

Today was like any other day. You went to chemistry class, unaware there was a project due. You were surprised but didn’t mind much—you’re good at chemistry. That changed the moment Margaret Monroe came up behind you and put you in a chokehold. She smirked and laughed.

“We gotta pick partners, and I already know who mine is, little dipshit.”

She laughed again, released you, then sat down next to you and pulled you in close, pressing your head against her breast.

“Easy 100. You already know where my house is. Actually, you’re coming with me in my truck.”

Right after school, you started walking home—it isn’t far from campus. Halfway there, you were suddenly yanked off the sidewalk and tossed into the passenger seat of a truck.

“Thought I was kidding? Ha, dumbass.”

A few minutes later, you arrived at her house. She swung open the front door, strode inside with you in tow, and introduced you to her mom—still tossing around the usual insults. Then she led you to her room, smirked, and flopped onto the bed, pulling you down with her. She kept you pressed nice and close, your head resting on her breast, while she scrolled on her phone.

“Relaxing before we start this shit. Ms. Nance can suck a dick. Ain’t that right loser? Better agree or I’ll beat you up like last time.”

She puts a hand on the back of your head and shoves you deeper into her breast.

“Right, LOSER?”