The following story is fiction and does not describe any real person or situation in particular. All characters are at least eighteen. This story is a bit different than my usual submissions in that it is longer and has a little more build-up. Trust me though, the payoff is worth it. If you prefer a shorter fantasy, I have many others from which to choose.
The central idea of this story was actually a request from an anonymous reader that gives me ideas from time to time. I hope this lives up to his/her expectations.
As always, nice or constructive comments are very much appreciated. Rude comments are just mean and will be deleted. Enjoy the fantasy. -xoxo Daphne.
***
Anyone who has ever been a part of a university marching band knows that the people in the drum line exist in a world apart from everyone else. They practice as a unit, perform as a unit, hang out as a unit, and are of a different mind set than the rest of the band.
It is also usually a male dominated section.
It's not that girls aren't allowed to be in the drum line, but it is a bit rare. Usually, girls who are percussionists would rather play mallet instruments in the front of the band than marching around the field carrying a heavy drum on their shoulders. Occasionally, though, it did happen.
Such was the case with Melanie.
Melanie had been part of the university drum line for four years as the top bass player. She was a cute petite girl perfectly suited to carrying the smallest bass drum in the line and enjoyed being part of the unit.
As the only girl in the drum line, Melanie stood out in the group which included eight other players...all male. The guys never teased her though. On the contrary, they always looked out for Melanie and considered her "one of the guys". It was a sweet relationship with which Melanie always felt comfortable. As she progressed through college, Melanie became so respected as a leader that the drum line elected her to be the captain of the section.
As one would expect, over the four years of college, Melanie was exposed to a lot of "guy talk" which, of course, usually involved all things sexual. Melanie, however, was a confident, outgoing woman who could hold her own in any conversation, and tended to just laugh off the sexual comments. Over her college years though, she had learned a lot about the mindset of guys and about all the fucked up things they often fantasied about doing to a girl.
Despite having been hanging around the same group of guys for years, Melanie was definitely not a tomboy. Rather, the twenty-one year old had matured into a really beautiful young lady with the face of a model. She had the most luxurious brunette hair which came down to her shoulders, deep brown eyes, and an adorable smile that somehow looked both cute and slightly naughty at the same time.
All the guys in the drum line had complimented Melanie's ass at one time or another. It was curvy, but tight, and somehow managed to still look great even under a traditional marching band uniform. She was used to getting a light slap on the rear from the guys every now and then, usually before a performance as sort of a "go get 'em" kind of gesture. If any random guy had spanked Melanie's rear though, they would have gotten slapped so fast they wouldn't have known what happened. The guys in the drum line, however, she'd known for a long time, and each one of them took care of her as if she were their sister...
...their scorching hot sister.
Melanie's breasts tended to get just as much attention as her rear. For her petite figure, Melanie's rack was perfectly sized, perky, and full rather than overly large. During practice, Melanie would catch guys discretely staring at her perky mounds, and would jokingly bust them on it, not that she minded the attention, but because she loved being able to tease her guy friends with what she sometimes cutely referred to as her "puppies".
During the marching season, the university bands often competed on weekends by performing their shows for a panel of judges. It was pretty intense, and Melanie's drum line often delivered a great performance. At the end of a competition, there was always an awards ceremony on the field where scores were announced and trophies presented. Being the percussion captain, the only girl, as well as really cute, Melanie usually represented the drum line during ceremonies.
It was at one of their competitions, while Melanie was getting ready to walk onto the field with the other section leaders for the announcement of scores, when something happened that forever changed Melanie's relationship with her drum line.
"I don't even know why I'm bothering to go out there," Melanie commented to her section after a less than stellar semi-finals run, "there is no way we are going to make the finals after that performance."
"Come on Mels," several of the drum line members tried to console her, "it wasn't THAT bad."
Melanie raised her eyebrows. "Are you kidding? It was lousy, and only six out of the twenty bands make the finals. I know I try to be positive, but this time, we're going to get cut, I just know it."
"You really think so?" one of the other players asked.
"Um, duh, Mark," Melanie answered with slight irritation, "the odds aren't good at all. In fact, I'd put money on it."
Seeing a little tiff between Mark and Melanie made the rest of the guys in the drum line congregate around them.
"Would you actually like to make a bet on it?" Mark asked.
Melanie thought it over a moment. Normally, she wasn't a betting kind of girl, but this was a sure fire win.
"Okay, might as well get something out of this," she responded, "how much do you want to bet?"
Mark lowered his voice to answer.
"Let's make it a little more interesting," he suggested.
Melanie placed her hands on her hips and listened as all the guys in the drum line surrounded their leader.
"There are eight of us," Mark gestured to the rest of the section, "if we don't make the finals, you win, and each of us will give you a hundred dollars."
Melanie raised her eyebrows. Eight hundred dollars was no small wager.
"What if I lose the bet?" Melanie asked, knowing she didn't have eight hundred dollars to lose in a wager, no matter how much of a sure thing she thought the bet would be.
Receiving nods from the rest of the guys, Mark issued their terms.
"If we win by placing into the finals competition, then, on the bus ride home, the eight of us get to watch you take off your clothes and pleasure yourself until you come."
Melanie's jaw dropped.
"What...the...fuck? Are you kidding me?!?"
"Nope," Mark answered, "we've all been fantasizing about you for a long time, and this is our chance to make some of that fantasy happen."
Melanie folded her arms across her chest and glared at Mark.
"You guys are such pervs," she said in a huff, looking at everyone in her section.
"Oh come on, Mels," he responded, "it's not like we're asking to fuck you. We just want to watch you pleasure yourself. You are smokin' hot and we want to see you come."
Melanie didn't say anything, but her stare could freeze water into ice.
Mark did notice, however, that she hadn't said no yet.
"If you're so sure that we won't make the finals, you've got nothing to lose, now do you?"
Melanie rolled her eyes.
"Guys are such a pain sometimes," she thought to herself, "everything is always sexual with them."
Shifting her hips to one side and tilting her head slightly as she considered the terms of the wager, Melanie had a plethora of thoughts going through her mind.
The feminist inside her was furious at being objectified in such a sexual wager. To have the nerve to even suggest the idea was so demeaning...not only to her, but to women in general...and yet, it somehow felt extremely satisfying to know that all of these guys she'd been friends with apparently fantasized about her...a lot.
Melanie figured it wouldn't matter anyway though. This wager was a sure thing.
"Fine," the hot college girl finally answered, looking at the rest of the drum line, "get your wallets ready boys...because you guys are going down."
