Get Some Strange

by ArizonaiceT666

Summary:

The Stranger Things gang gets invited to their first-ever College Party, and Jane/Eleven plans to make it memorable. Unfortunately so does everyone else.

Notes:

Beta-d by the lovely maniccc

Chapter 1: Dress Up, Rivals and Arrivals

At times, Eleven - Jane - would’ve much rather been fighting otherworldly entities than dealing with high school and its many complexities.

 

Apparently “senior year” was a big deal, finals, college acceptance, and as Eleven was constantly reminded, parties. 

 

Eleven had grown to like parties; Dungeons and Dragon parties, arcade parties, but apparently she was too old for those things now. 

 

The cliques of schools all had their own little events, but what was in everyone’s ear was the rager Angela Orkin was throwing, or rather, her big brother. Tyler Orkin had graduated the year before, and was a student at Mecham University, about 20 miles from Hawkins, and had quickly ingratiated himself with Greek Life, joining the Phi Alpha Kai fraternity. Angela had apparently gotten her brother to let her host her big bad final highschool party there, a send off to Hawkins High, and introduction to the school where most of the kids of Hawkins would be headed. 

 

Eleven HATED Angela. The popular girl had spent her time tormenting and bullying Eleven and her friends whenever she saw fit, and - she was a capital B-bitch (Eleven learned that from Max).

 

So, Eleven was more than a little confused when Angela sauntered by her desk in calculus, and dropped an invitation onto her desk with a smirk that more resembled a sneer, and a wink. Eleven was still learning social cues, so she didn’t need this curveball (Lucas taught her that). 

 

In fact, the whole crew got invitations, and they were naturally suspicious. 

 

“What if this is some Carrie type shit?” Max worried at their lunch table. 

 

“I never saw that one.” Will said.

 

“It’s the one where the girl can start fires with her mind.” Dustin commented.

 

“No, it’s not. Carrie is the one with the pig’s blood and weird mom.” Lucas corrected.

 

“Then what am I thinking of?”

 

“...Firestarter.”

 

“Guys, focus.” Mike cut in.

 

“Point is, this could be a trap.” Max continued.

 

“Guys, they’re dicks, but pigs blood is probably even extreme for them.” Lucas said.

 

“Never underestimate the mind of a teenage girl, Luke.” Max said cryptically, and Lucas gave his girlfriend a concerned look.

 

“There’ll be so many people there, they probably won’t even notice us.” Dustin offered.

 

“They wouldn’t invite us if they weren’t up to something.” Mike said.

 

“Maybe they just want as many people there as possible.” Lucas theorized, “Like bragging rights.”

 

The group theorized for several minutes. Eleven was quiet as she often was, but strangely, so was Will. The boy sat quietly while the others rattled off theories. Mike was the one to notice.

 

“Will?” He asked. “What do you think?”

 

The boy was silent for a moment, looking down at his lunch table, before regarding the group.

 

“I think we should go.” He said.

 

“Really?” Max asked skeptically. 

 

“Really.” Will reiterated. “We’ve been…ignored our whole lives, bullied, pushed around - and for what? We’ll remember how we were treated, but all of them…they’ll forget as soon as they’re off to college. Why should we let ourselves be forgettable after all the bullshit we’ve been through? I say we go to that party, and make and if nothing else, make memories for ourselves.”

 

Hearing all this from Will surprised the group. Even amongst them, Will was the shyest, most reserved, so to hear him speak like this was…inspiring. A regular General Patton. 

 

“Okay, I can get down with that.” Max nodded.

 

“Well said, dude.” Mike said.

 

“Here, here.” Dustin added.

 

Eleven nodded in silent agreement. It was official, the Party was party bound.

____________________________________________________________________________

 

When the day came, the boys all met for their pre-party preparations, while Eleven went to Max’s house. 

 

“Alright, which hoodie?” Max asked, holding two in front of her. “Blue, or red?”

 

Eleven considered for a moment - “Blue.”

 

“Good pick.”

 

Max’s wardrobe wasn’t exactly varied. Her tomboy tendencies meant she wore a constant rotation of hoodies and tracksuits, denims, and sneakers. Ms. Bryers was a great guardian, and had bought Eleven all the clothes she could ask for, though she never asked. She was in a sequined jacket, and some shorts that went down to her knees. Neither was particularly fashion-forward, but they quite liked the outfits they had on, especially Eleven, who was used to hospital clothes and ill-fitting dresses most of her life.

 

“What are you two dorks all dressed up for?”

 

The girls looked towards the door, where Max’s evil step-brother, Billy was leaning against the door frame. Despite being 22, he still lived in the house while working at a mechanic’s shop. His dad and Max’s mom didn’t seem to care as long as he helped out with bills.

 

“Get out of my room, BILLY.” Max scowled with disdain. 

 

“You two wouldn’t happen to be going to that party at Mecham, would ya?” He asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

 

“None of your business!”

 

Billy looked between the two younger girls, unimpressed.

 

“You’re wearing THAT.” He commented, waving his finger between the pair lazily. Eleven looked down at herself , and Max scowled.

 

“We’re not taking fashion advice from someone who dresses like a James Dean impersonator.” Max bit out. But Eleven continued looking at her outfit, suddenly self-conscious.

 

“What’s wrong with our clothes?” She asked. Max gave her a betrayed look.

 

“Besides looking like a couple of dykes?” Billy scoffed.

 

“What do levees have to do with anything?” Eleven asked in confusion.

 

“NOTHING.” Max insisted. “Billy is just being an asshole.”

 

“I’m trying to help you, actually.” Billy insisted, stepping into the room fully. “You go to the party dressed like this, you’re going to get laughed off the lawn, and you nerds already got an uphill battle as it is. I’ve been to enough college parties, and these outfits are chum in the water.”

 

Max folded her arms and scowled, but it was apparent on her face that Billy’s comments were having some effect on her. 

 

“Yeah well, these are the clothes we have.” She offered with a huff. 

 

“Yeah, I can see that. Wait here.” Billy instructed. Eleven and Max looked at each other in confusion, but waited since they had nothing else to do. He returned a minute or two later, arms full of clothes.

 

“Here.” He said, tossing them at Max. “Try these, should fit you both.”

 

“Why the hell do you have girl clothes?” Max scoffed. “You have something to tell us?”

 

“Fuck off. They’re from some girls I had over.”

 

Max knew all too well about the girls Billy snuck into the house when their parents weren’t home. They shared a wall and she often was subjected to shrieking and wall banging.

 

“Wait…why are their clothes still here?” Max asked.

 

To his credit, Billy looked a bit contrite, scratching his stubble.

 

“A few times Susan or dad came home earlier than expected.” Billy admitted. “Had to send the chicks out through the window.”

 

“Without their clothes?!”

 

“No time.” Billy shrugged. “I aint tryna get kicked out or have Niel bitch at me. Why do you care either way? Works out in your favor.”

 

“Our favor?” Max scoffed in disbelief. She looked at the clothes in her hands and sneered in disgust. “These clothes would make us look like hookers!”

 

Eleven wondered what a hooker was,

 

“That’s the point.” Billy snorted. “You WANT to stand out, in a good way.”

 

“You’re a pig.” Max bit out.

 

“FINE.” Billy said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t take the fucking clothes then. Go ahead and dress like a Gap commercial for all I care.”

 

He stepped forward and grabbed the clothes in Max’s hands, puling. Suddenly, the redhead’s hands tightened on the fabric.

 

“Wait…” She said a bit weakly. 

 

Billy gave her a smug smirk, and let the clothes go.

 

“Get dressed.” 

________________________________________________________________________

 

“You two about finished in there?” Billy yelled from the other side of the door

 

“This…these clothes are ridiculous!” Max yelled back. Eleven had to agree.

 

“Fuck it, I’m coming in.”

 

Billy pushed the door open despite Max’s best efforts.

 

“Would you stop being so-” His complaint stopped short when he saw them in the clothes, his eyebrows ticking up. A smug smile spread across his face.

 

“When I’m good, I’m good.” He hooted in self entertainment.

 

Max scoffed in disgust. Her and Eleven were dressed up like trollops. Max was in a tight, black lycra miniskirt that only went as far as her upper thigh, the slightest movements threatening to send the material jumping upwards. For a shirt, if one could call it that, she was in a red sequin tube top that ended well above her belly button and showed off too much cleavage for Max’s liking. 

 

On Eleven’s side, she was in a pair of high-waist, acid-wash, daisy dukes, cut obscenely short to the point where half her ass was hanging out the bottom. The shirt Billy gave her was a band shirt, for some band called Pantera, that had its sleeves cut off and was cut short so that it stopped at her ribs. Eleven didn’t know fashion among many things, but even she thought these clothes looked funny.

 

“Well, give us a spin.” Billy instructed, holding up a finger and making a twirling motion. 

 

“You’re a pig.” Max said, but spun anyway, which spurred Eleven to do the same. When they turned back around, Billy was wearing a look of consideration

 

“Wait, spin back around you two.” He instructed. 

 

The pair gave him a confused look, but did as they were told.

 

“What is it?” Max asked, looking over her shoulder at the back of the skirt. “Please tell me you WASHED these clothes.” 

 

“Just need to test something.” Billy said, Then, without warning, both his hands shot out in a flash, his palms coming into contact with Max and Eleven’s asses in harsh spanks.

 

WHAP 2

 

 Both girls squealed, and flinched forward. Max’s skirt shifted up, and her pale ass sprung out, still jiggling from the slap. She hurriedly pulled her skirt back down with one hand.

 

“You ass!” Max screeched, spinning around to throw a punch with the hand that wasn’t protecting her modesty. Eleven was glaring daggers, wishing she still had her powers.

 

Billy easily slapped away Max’s fist, not looking ashamed in the slightest.

 

“Relax.” He said breezily. “Just confirming I made the right choice giving the shorts to the spastic. Her ass got more jiggle to it.”

 

“I am NOT a spastic.” Eleven seethed, going red in the face. “And my… butt does not jiggle.”

 

Eleven was…cognisant of certain changes her body was experiencing. Now that she was at the Bryers household, she was on a more normal diet, three square meals a day, not the “whatever processed food is around” diet Jim had her on, or scrounging for Eggos like a racoon (she still loved Eggos and now had rather unlimited access to them). That meant in the last few years, she put on healthy weight that she had been deprived of in her early development. Her height was still a bit stunted, but she filled out all over, going through a proper, if not a bit delayed, puberty. However, it seemed the hormones and weight decided to put most of its combined efforts into one place-

 

Eleven’s ass. 

 

It seemed, almost overnight, the petite psychic ass suddenly rather pear shaped, her hips widening, and her ass thickening, hanging heavy and plump. Ms.Bryers had to buy her all new pants, skirts and underwear. It was of course a point of ridicule from her nemesis Angela, who constantly had something to say about Eleven’s backside. She especially hated gym class, as now her standard issue gym shoes were swallowed up by her fat ass, certainly giving the rest of the class an entertaining show. So, Billy pointing it out was very much unwanted.

 

Billy didn’t look sorry in the slightest, though.

 

“Relax, it’s a compliment.” He assured.

 

Eleven tilted her head in confusion.

 

“Being a spastic?” She asked.

 

“No, Rainman, having a fat ass. Guys like a fat ass.”

 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Max raged.

 

“Just telling the truth.” BIlly dismissed.

 

“This is ridiculous.” Max said, folding her arms across her chest, trying to cover her breasts. “We look like hookers.”

 

“You already said that, and I already said that’s the point.” Billy sighed. “This is a college party, not a fucking study hall.”

 

“Oh god, what are the guys gonna say?” Max asked, going a bit red in the face. 

 

“They’ll probably jizz their little virgin shorts” Billy snorted. 

 

Eleven was suddenly a bit self conscious, wondering what Mike WOULD think of her new outfit. 

 

“This is all one big joke to you, isn’t it?” Max accused.

 

Billy sighed, face suddenly more serious than it had been. He stepped between the girls, moving behind them and throwing his arms over their shoulders in a friendly manner. 

 

“Listen, I am actually trying to help, sis.” He said, sounding earnest. “Look, I don’t know shit about books and shit, that’s your world - it’s why you’ll be actually GOING to college. But what I do know is the kinds of people who go to College ragers.”

 

Max blinked up at Billy, taken a bit off guard by his self deprecation.

 

“No one is twisting your arms.You can change back into your way - normal clothes, and be on your way. OR, you can let your big brother’s limited areas of expertise shine. Your choice.”

 

Max and Eleven didn’t answer immediately, looking at each other for a moment. Eleven shrugged.

 

Max sighed. “All right.”

 

Billy smiled.

 

“Great.” 

 

He gave them both another pair of slaps on the ass to seal the deal. They just grimaced and accepted it.

 

“Now, both of you, lose the bras.”

 

“What?!” Max screeched. 

 

“Bra straps.” Billy said like it was obvious. “They ruin the outfits. No one wants to see bra straps.”

 

Max and Eleven looked at each other again, frowning.

 

Then, they reached into their shirts.

____________________________________________________________________________

 

The boys arrived 15 minutes later. They borrowed Eddie’s van so they could all back into the back. Dustin drove, since he was the only one who got took driver’s ed. When they rolled up to the curb in front of Max’s house, Dustin leaned on the horn. 

 

“Come on, we’re burning moonlight!” He yelled out the window, continuing to honk the horn.

 

“Dude, knock it off.” Mike complained from the passenger seat. Dustin kept honking the horn. 

 

About half a minute later, Max and Eleven came out of the house.

 

“Holy-” Mike said, his jaw dropping and eyes going wide. 

 

“By the power of Grey-Skull-” Dustin added, looking through the window as well.

 

Lucas and Will looked at each other in confusion for a moment, before sliding open the side door, to see what Dustin and Mike were gawking at. They understood immediately as they laid eyes on the girls. Max and Eleven adjusted their clothes awkwardly as they walked, trying and failing to make the completely obscene outfits more modest. It was of course a fool’s errand, Max’s halter top shifting and slipping with each step, and her skirt threatening to ride up, and Eleven’s shorts being gobbled up by her ass, giving her the wickedest wedgie. The boys were in a complete stunned silence as the girls walked to them, their nerdy virgin brains not knowing what to make of the new stimuli they were witnessing. Back at the house, Billy leaned against the door frame, looking as pleased as punch.

 

“Knock em’ dead, girlies!” He called out. Max gave him the finger. 

 

Lucas was the one to find his voice first.

 

“Max, E-Eleven?!” He said, his voice cracking a little. “What are you wearing?!”

 

“Don’t ask.” Max muttered, climbing into the back of the fan, grabbing the hem of her skirt to keep it down. 

 

“Where did you guys get those clothes?” Dustin asked. 

 

“DON’T ask.” Max bit out.

“Jesus CHRIST,” Dustin whispered, adjusting his hat to hide the way his jaw had gone slack. “Is this legal? Can they… look like that?”

 

“THEY can look however they want!” Max snapped, her face going a bit red. 

 

“And you two want to look…like this?” Mike questioned, eyes raking over Eleven. “N-not that there’s any problem! It’s just…different!”

 

“Provocative!” Will tried to add helpfully.

 

“Provocative?” Eleven asked, tilting her head. “What are we provoking?”

 

“These dorks’ boners.” Max snorted. 

 

“No!” Lucas said a bit too quickly, putting his sweater in his lap. 

 

“I mean, I have a boner.” Dustin said, looking in the rearview mirror, not at all ashamed.

 

“Dude!” Mike hissed.

 

“What, you have one too.”

 

“No, I don’t, shut up!” Mike said, in the tone of someone who clearly had a boner.

 

“If girls gave me boners, I’d totally have one for you two.” Will said, trying to make it sound like a compliment.

 

“Oh my god, can we please go before I self-immolate.” Max groaned.

 

“Right, yeah.” Dustin said, eyes still looking in the rearview. “Off we go.”

 

He stared for another 30 seconds before actually pulling off. 

 

The van ride was chaos. 

 

Dustin, at the wheel, kept drifting in lanes and almost blowing through red lights and stop signs because he kept gawking at the girls in the rearview. Lucas’ sweater never left his lap, and he crossed his legs, which he claimed was completely comfortable. Mike TRIED to pretend like he wasn’t looking, but he would glance back at Eleven almost every two minutes on the dot. It didn’t help that the jostling of the van meant the girl’s tits swayed and bounced with every imperfection of the road and shittiness of Eddie’s suspension. The effect was dozens of near nipslips, which in turn only made Dustin’s driving worse.

 

They eventually made it to Mecham in one piece, and there, it was even MORE chaos. 

 

Frat Row looked like it was straight out of Mad Max, parties going on at every frat house, the streets and sidewalks littered with bear cans and red solo cups, and overall pandemonium that made the Upside Down look tame. The Phi Alpha Kai house was the biggest and most hectic, people were passed out on the lawn, the front was covered in spray paint - there was a mattress on the roof.

 

The group found parking up the street, and walked to the door, the group - the girls, getting open stares and whistles as they walked. They ignored them the best they could. 

 

"Just… ignore them, El." Mike mumbled, putting a protective (and trembling) arm around her shoulders, acutely aware of the bare skin beneath his fingertips where her tiny shirt ended. It made Eleven feel a little better, regardless, as they came to the front door.

 

Standing in front of the door was a stocky junior with blonde hair, a backwards cap, sunglasses, a polo a size too small and shorts. On his shirt read a name tag - Brock.

 

He lowered his sunglasses, eyeing the group, lingering on Max and Eleven.

 

“Can I help y’all?” He asked.

 

“We’re here for the party.” Will said.

 

“Obviously.” Max added. 

 

The pseudo bouncer looked the crew over once more, then shook his head.

 

“Sorry kiddies, but this little crew ain't gonna work.” He told them lazily.

 

“What? Why?” Mike asked. 

 

“"Ratio's fucked." He announced flatly. "Way too many swinging dicks. The sorority ain't show yet. The two little rockers here, they can go in. You boys gotta wait.”

 

“But we came together!” Dustin exclaimed.

 

“This is bullshit.” Max added. Everyone chimed in agreement. Brock was unphased.

 

“Tough shit.” He shrugged. “The ladies can come in, the Goonies can’t. Once some dicks leave or more chicks arrive, we can revisit this”

 

The crew huddled for a moment.

 

“What should we do?” Mike asked. “Should we leave?”

 

“That means they win.” Dustin said. 

 

“I don’t wanna split up.” Max said. “Sounds like a good way for bullshittery to happen.” Lucas nodded in agreement

 

“I agree with Dustin.” Will said. “We can’t back down now. We came all this way. Girls…you can go in, scope the scene. I’m sure we’ll be in soon.”

 

Max and Eleven looked at each other for a moment, a silent understanding crossing their eyes, and then they nodded.

 

“Alright, let’s party.” Max said.

 

The huddle broke, and the girls stepped forward while the boys waited on the lawn, looking encouraging. Brock held up a hand.

 

“Slow your roll girlies. Still need to search ya?”

 

“Search?” Eleven asked.

 

“Protocol. Gotta make sure you two ain’t packing contraband.”

 

“Really?” Max scoffed. “Exactly WHERE could we fit contraband?” She asked, spreading her arms out in a “look at me” motion. Brock smirked and eyed her up and down.

 

“You never know.” He said. “Rules are rules. No exceptions.”

 

Max frowned for a moment, before breathing through her nose, “Fine.”

 

“Good girl, You first. Step up, arms out to your side.”

 

Max hesitated for a moment, before standing as instructed, arms out. Brock took a half step forward and bent down, and his large hands were on her. He didn’t even pretend to give a real pat down. It was invasive, lingering, aggressive, and blatantly inappropriate. His hands slid over her hips, cupping her ass through the thin skirt for a moment too long. squeezing lightly, fingers just above the hem. He ran his hands up her sides, fingers tickling her exposed midriff, running them up higher, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts, taking a moment to bounce them under her shirt before moving over her shoulders and down her arms. Max stiffened, her face a mask of outrage and disgust, her cheeks flaming.

 

"Hey!" Lucas shouted from the bottom of the steps, taking a step forward. The bouncer shot him a warning glare, a silent promise of violence that made Lucas freeze. The bouncer probably had  150 pounds on all of them. 

 

"Relax, Romeo." the bouncer chuckled, finally releasing with Max an unneeded push, who looked apoplectic.  “Just doin' my job. Gotta be thorough, ya know?"

 

 He wiped his hands theatrically on his pants, then turned his full attention to Eleven.

 

“Alright, space cadet. Your turn - and it looks like you got two meteors stuffed in your pants.”

 

“No, that’s my butt.” Eleven corrected. 

 

“Noted. Arms out, little Miss Metallica.”

 

“Pantera.” Eleven corrected again, before sticking her arms out. 

 

Brock snorted in amusement, and started his search. 

 

The pat down started much the same as Max’s running over Eleven’s arms and down her sides, and much like Max’s it was all for show. There was nowhere in the tight, skimpy clothing anything could be hidden.

 

While he had focused up top for Max’s search, for Eleven he was more interested in what was down below. He squeezed her flaring waist, his thumbs digging in slightly, getting a good feel. Eleven thought it tickled a bit. Then, as his hands moved lower, towards the impossibly tight denim shorts stretched over her hips, running his hands back over her round ass brazenly. He gave her ass an overt, lingering squeeze with both hands, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, palming and kneading. Eleven for her part, had never been searched before, and didn’t see anything wrong, though she thought it strange that people would hide things in their butt area. She’d have to keep that in mind when sneaking Eggos. 

Everyone else, however, was horrified. Max looked absolutely disgusted. Dustin made a choked sound behind them. Mike took an involuntary step forward, fists clenching, but Lucas grabbed his arm.

 

"Oh relax, mop head," Brock said dismissively, his voice thick with false concern, and a bit of a threat. Using both hands, he gave Eleven’s ass a hearty shake, making it wobble, a clear taunt to the boys. He released her a moment later, moving to the front. He fondled over the tiny, useless pockets on the front of the shorts, his knuckles brushing against the junction of her thighs. Eleven just looked down at his hands, puzzled - nothing much could fit in her pockets, she thought that was obvious. Eventually, he pried his hands away, placing them on his hips, a smirk on his face.

 

“We done?”  Max spat, scowl on her face. 

 

“Things LOOK clear.” Brock answered. “But looks can be deceiving. One more test to make sure she ain't hiding anything where the sun don’t shine.”

 

“You’re so full of shit.” Max said. 

 

“Safety is no joke.” Brock said, a clear smile plastered on his face.

 

“What more could you check?” Mike asked angrily.

 

“Well that’s easy.” Brock said to him, before turning his attention back to Eleven. “Jump.”

 

“Jump?” Eleven repeated, tilting her head to the side. 

 

“Little hops,” he instructed. “To shake loose any hidden contraband. Nothing crazy. Just little bunny hops.” 

 

Eleven liked bunnies. 

 

Eleven nodded with complete seriousness. “Understood.”

 

She turned to the side, straightened her back, and laced her hands behind her head - she had seen in an aerobics video

 

“Wait, El—” Mike began, but it was too late. 

 

Eleven bent her knees and started hopping in place.

 

The consequences were instantaneous, going off like an atom bomb

 

THWAP

 

The sound was one no one there likely heard before, but utterly unique and clear in what it was. 

 

Her jump wasn’t anything crazy, a quick hop that barely came an inch off the ground, but the effects were seismic; the curves of her body moved like a plate of Jell-o, a shockwave rolling through her body, sending all her bits moving. Her unsupported tits bounced under her loose shirt, but her ass was the real mover. 

 

THWAP

 

THWAP

 

Her ass, moving as if possessed and completely unobstructed by her miniscule daisy dukes, the dense, heavy flesh of her ass cheeks colliding with each other lewdly, shaking and wobbling obscenely, sounding like gunshots were ringing out. 

 

THWAP, THWAP THWAP.

 

The jiggling was hypnotic, the clapping pronounced, her shorts giving no coverage, the near fullness of her pale ass was out, for all to see and hear, and people DID see and hear.

 

Brock watched, a shit eating grin on his face, not even getting the drunkest and sluttiest of girls to be THIS agreeable. Max was red in the face, enraged but rooted to the spot, her mind contemplating various acts of violence and mayhem. The boys, bless their hearts, were utterly paralyzed in shock, embarrassment, and virginal confusion. Dustin’s hat fell off, his mouth gaping. Lucas had to shift his hoodie in front of his pants again. Will was trying to look anywhere but the scene, and plugged his ears. And Mike, poor Mike, watched in abject horror, red from the tips of his ears to his chest, watching the girl he had a crush on for YEARS clap her ass in public. 

 

The public noticed as well - various party goers who had come in line behind the boys, or who were just drinking or passed out on the lawn, had a front row seat to the depravity.

 

“HOLY SHIT, the small one got a dumptruck on her”

 

“More like a TANK the way that ass is clapping. Sounds like the bombing of Dresden.”

 

“I wish MY ass could do that.”

 

Eleven was the very image of earnest concentration, hands still obediently on her head, tongue peaking out the corner of her mouth as she hopped, not at all clocking that her ass wobbling and quaking and clapping for everyone was NOT standard procedure.

 

“J-Jane.” Mike tried, finding his voice. “Stop! You don’t have to-”

 

“Ignore him, he doesn’t know a thing about safety protocols.” Brock interrupted. “Your form is good, jump a little faster.”

 

Her friend voiced their dismay, but Eleven hadn’t heard them, just happy that someone said something nice about her form, she didn’t get compliments alot. She hopped a little faster now, her shirt shifting and riding up to where her underboob could be plainly seen.

 

THWAPTHWAPTHWAPTHWAP-

 

Her ass clapped like a tommy gun, her ass wobbling, shaking, quaking and otherwise moving in such an obscene way that even the National Lampoon might find it off color. 

 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Max exclaimed, finally interjecting. She stepped over to Eleven, grabbing her by the shoulder. Eleven hopped once or twice more, before stopping, looking at her friend. 

 

“Oh? Am I done?” She asked innocently. She looked to Brock. “Am I good”

 

“You’re clean as a fucking whistle, and dirty as can be.” He laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “You two can go in. I got a feeling you’ll both be very popular.” He opened the door for them

 

“Good, get out of the way.” Max said sternly. She grabbed Eleven by the wrist, pulling her along hurriedly. 

 

“Bye friends!” Eleven said, waving to the still stunned boys. “See you inside.”

 

Chapter 2: 2 Live Girls

Summary:

Max and Eleven inside the party. Dancing and games ensue.

Notes:

Part 2 of 3, because I like to make you all suffer (and because it was getting too long)

Naturally, the inside of the frat house was absolute pandemonium. Throngs of body, music blaring, backwards hats, polos, spaghetti straps and washed jeans all over - Max and Eleven stood out. Boys leered openly, red solo cups in hands, while girls stared hatefully, wondering who were these short sluts who barged into the party, taking the attention away from them. Max felt the intensity in the room. Eleven, however - she was just smiling serenely, looking around the room, getting a feel for the new surrounding. 

 

“Alright, Jane-” Max said, grabbing her hand. “Stick close to me. This place is a fucking zoo.”

 

“I like zoos - though I wish the animals could walk around free.” Eleven said innocently.

 

“Well, these are the bad kinds of animals. The kinds that roofie your drink.”

 

Eleven looked up to the ceiling in confusion, thinking that it was quite “roofy.”

 

As they walked, the packs of frat bros sounded off, wolf whistling and catcalling. 

 

“Whoa! Look at the fresh meat!”

 

“The ginger got a pair of tits on her”

 

“Nah, the short one is where it’s at - she’s 50% ass.”

 

“Was that her clapping outside? I thought it was fireworks.”

 

Max scowled, pushing through the sea of boys, flipping off ones who got to close, batting away groping hands. They pushed through until they found a small nook to perch up in, in an archway by the kitchen. 

 

“I’ve never been to a place like this.” Eleven said, looking around in wonder. “So many people - it’s like the carnival, but inside.”

 

“Trust me, you don’t WANT to be in a place like this.” Max sneered. “You want to go to a proper college, with REAL majors and books, not one of these hick ones where the only output is free booze.”

 

“Everyone looks like they’re having fun.”

 

“That would be the booze.

 

“Which you two don’t seem to have.”

 

Max jumped and spun around; Eleven turned much more calmly. Behind them, in the hall, stood a boy who was a head and a half taller than both of them. He had blonde hair, tucked under backwards Mecham U hat, and Pacers jersey (Chuck Person’s to be specific). The jersey showed off his muscled arms and broad shoulders, and his angular face looked smug but handsome in the dim lights of the party.

 

“Never seen you two before? Freshies?” He asked, eyeing the pair, not even hiding his long lingers on their forms. 

 

“None of your business.” Max snapped.

 

“Ah - Highschool girls.” He said, nodding his head in approval. “You can always tell. Name’s Dylan, by the way.”

 

“We didn’t ask.” Max snipped.

 

“Hi Dylan, I’m Eleven.” Eleven said with a smile, holding out a polite hand to shake - Ms. Bryers had taught her manners. 

 

Dylan looked at her hand in amusement, before slowly reaching out and shaking Eleven’s hand, while Max looked a bit betrayed.

 

“Eleven - that like a nickname?” He asked.

 

“It’s the one I got assigned.” She replied with a shrug.

 

“Right. Well, Eleven, wanna dance?” 

 

“She’s fine.” Max insisted.

 

“But Max, I like dancing.” Eleven said, not understanding her friend’s contention.

 

Max frowned deeper, giving her socially unaware friend a look. “Eleven, trust me, it’s not a good idea. He just wants an excuse to paw all over you.”

 

“I wouldn’t need an excuse.” Dylan smarmed. Max flashed her teeth at him.

 

“But Max, aren’t we supposed to be trying to have fun?” Eleven said. “I thought that was the goal. To leave our marks, to have fun in spite of the bullies? How can we do that just standing around”

 

Max scowled, her eye twitching. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, not really having a rebuttal to Eleven’s straightforward logic. Dylan let her fume for a beat, before stepping in.

 

“Looks like we got an answer.” He said with a smile. He wrapped an arm around Eleven’s shoulder, and turned her to the dance floor in the living room. “Come on, Eleven, let's get down.”

 

Eleven smiled politely, and allowed herself to be led to the dance floor. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Max, who was gaping like an angry fish. The dance floor wasn’t too packed, filled with a few couples dancing to a new wave track. Most stared as Eleven came onto the dance floor with Dylan, whispering at Eleven’s appearance, and wondering what the popular Dylan was doing with this weird girl. There was a DJ at the edge of the room, spinning records - he wasn’t particularly talented, but he kept the tune going.

 

“Alright!” the DJ said called out to the crowd. “Gonna mix it up. Playing some tunes from all the way down Florida way - got it over Spring Break.”

 

The DJ dropped the needle on his turntable, and a thick Miami Bass beat kicked in - 2 Live Crew’s Me So Horny. 

 

Me so horny, me so horny, me so horny

Me love you long time

Me so horny, me so horny, me so horny

Me love you long time

 

Eleven ears perked up - she knew this song. 

 

She had heard it before, and seen the music video; she had caught Jonathan Byers watching it in his bedroom. She remembered he looked quite embarrassed about it, and told her to get out of his room. She didn’t know why, she’d never judge anyone over their music taste, and she CERTAINLY wasn’t one to be gate kept either. So she snuck back into his room when he was at work, and decided to watch the tape for herself.

 

It was certainly music she never heard before, so funky, and energetic. And the dancing, the ladies in it looked to be having so much fun, dancing freely and unrestricted (in clothes very similar to what she and Max had on in retrospect). The tape had a few music videos from 2 Live Crew, and others musicians who had the same sound; like Eggos, Eleven became a bit obsessed with things she enjoyed, watching the videos over and over, feeling the music and memorizing the dance moves. 

 

“I know this song!” Eleven said excitedly, back at the party, looking up at Dylan. 

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her, a bit amused. “Really now?”

 

“Yeah, watch!” Eleven instructed, She turned away from Dylan, and got into position that she saw in the videos repeatedly; she bent over, placed her hands on her knees and began to bounce, working her lower back in tandem with her ass and thighs, to shake her ass up and down with surprising skill and control; Eleven was a fast learner, having practiced mimicking the dance moves from the videos in a mirror. 

 

She was performing a full body, full ass twerk in front of everyone.

 

“Holy shit.” Dylan said in genuine surprise, eyebrows in his hairline, eyes glued to the glorious wobble of Eleven’s ass. Others seemed to have the same reaction.

 

“Oh shit!” someone exclaimed. “The little weirdo is SHAKING it!”

 

“Look at that thing move!”

 

“What kind of dance is that? Must be a black thing - someone ask Derrick, he’s black!”

 

“Wish MY girlfriend’s ass moved like that.”

 

Max pushed herself to the edge of the dance floor, seeing Eleven shake and bounce her ass.

 

“Oh lord.” She groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face.

 

Eleven didn’t pay any mind to the comments, focusing on moving her body and specifically her ass to the music. She looked over her shoulder, still dutifully bouncing her ass, and smiled serenely at Dylan.

 

“Why aren’t you dancing?” She asked earnestly. 

 

Dylan blinked for a moment, being brought back to reality, before smiling. He didn’t say anything, but he moved, stepping forward and grabbing Eleven by the hips, pulling her while stepping forward and pressing his crotch flush against her bouncing ass. 

 

Eleven thought he was awfully close, but remembered that people did dance close together at homecoming and prom - she shared a few with Mike - so she figured it was normal. Though those dances were face to face, typically. 

 

Dylan pressed forward, grinding his hips against Eleven’s luscious ass, vaguely to the rhythm of the music. Eleven just did what felt natural, and kept on shaking her ass, rubbing herself against Dylan’s crotch.

 

She liked this dancing, it was energetic, fun.

 

She added more effort, working her ass against Dylan’s pelvis. Twerking with intensity. 

 

"HEEEEEEEY! WE WANT SOME PUSSY!"

 

The music blared as Eleven shook her ass with intensity and skill, grinding with purpose, especially with Dylan grabbing her now, more guiding her, using her ass and movements to rub himself off.

 

“Damn!” He grunted. “I didn’t know high schoolers could get down like this.”

 

“I do enjoy getting down.” Eleven said over her shoulder. 

 

Max continued to watch, her face a mask of horror and fury. She saw Eleven, eyes half-closed in concentration or enjoyment, blissfully grinding her incredibly prominent backside against Dylan’s obvious erection, while he manhandled her hips, guiding her movements with increasing dominance, one hand roaming freely over her ass.

 

“Alright, that’s it!” Max said, rolling up a non-existent sleeve. “Time to put an end to this.”

 

Max was about to step forward, when she felt a hand on each shoulder. Max whirled around, and was looking at nothing but pure mass. 

 

Two guys, very large guys, both wearing jerseys and the exact same dopey grins, towered behind her. They looked like they were grown in the same lab: square jaws, backward hats. Max thought they looked like brothers, which was confirmed by the back of their jersey’s having the same name on them - Billy and Bobby Delaney.

 

“Hey there, fire crotch.” Bobby said.

 

“Don’t kill Dyl’s vibe,” Billy added, making them sound like one entity.

 

“Yeah, your friend is just fine-”

 

“Come dance with us!”

 

Max blinked at them in incredulous disbelief. 

 

“Here’s another idea-” Max began. “You two chucklefucks get away from me, before I stomp on your nuts!”

 

The two football players looked at each other for a moment, before smiling.

 

Back on the dance floor, Eleven was still dutifully grinding on Dylan’s crotch; the song had changed, now playing 2 Live Crew’s Pop that Coochie. Eleven didn’t know what a coochie was, but she popped it with skill and fervor nonetheless, ass still moving expertly. While dancing, Eleven wondered where Max was, hoping she was having fun. She turned her head to the side, and saw her friend. 

 

Max Mayfield was getting railed from both sides on the dance floor.

 

For lack of better terminology.

 

It seemed asking Max to dance was more of a polite gesture from the Delaney brothers. 

 

They had simply grabbed her, sandwiched her between their two large bodies and began to dance. Though, in actuality, it was less dancing as them grinding and rutting against the flailing and cursing Max. 

 

Billy was behind her, chest pressed to her back, hands firmly on her hips ass pulled up to his crotch; Bobby was in front, grabbing onto a thigh and hooking a leg over his hip as he humped against her crotch. Max’s foot that was still on the ground was barely touching as the boys bumped and grind her back and forth, bouncing and jostling her.

 

“Get…Off…Me…YOU DICKS!” Max screeched. She was absolutely disheveled, dancing under duress, a full body flush over her body as she sweated and panted as she wriggled and was wriggled against.

 

Her clothes didn’t stand a chance in the sandwich of frat meat; her skirt hiked up, bunching up over her ass from all the grinding and friction her panties showing and being the last line of defense for the rutting. Her sequence halter could only withstand so much jiggling, the material shifting more and more, the swell of her tits peaking out, until the ghost of a nipple could be seen. 

 

The party goers hooted and hollered, cheering their local boys on at Max’s expense. She EXPECTED that from them.

 

“Max, you’re dancing!” Eleven beamed from several feet away, still bent over and bouncing her ass against Dylan. “Quite expressive!”

 

“Stop cheering!” Max told her friend as she continued to get manhandled and ragdolled. Her legs shook, Bobby’s incessant grinding against her panty clad crotch was starting to get to her - she humped enough pillows in her time to know what friction could do. Her pants became shallow and rapid.

 

“I think she likes our moves.” Billy said.

 

“We do have sick moves.” Bobby agreed, taking a big handful of Max’s pert ass.

 

“I-I’m just not used to having two dickheads have seizures against me!” Max tried to bite out. Bobby responded by giving an extra hard roll of his hips, causing Max to squeak and jerk, which in turn cause a whole tit to pop out. 

 

“Oh shit!” Someone exclaimed. “We got freckled titties out!”

 

Max tried and failed to readjust her shirt, as she kept being wedged between the two massive brothers. 

 

“Are you having fun Max?” Eleven asked with an earnest smile, her hands currently planted on the ground as Dylan humped against her like he was trying to get her tiny shorts pregnant.

 

“No!” Max exclaimed.

__________________________________________________

 

Meanwhile, the host with the most, Angela, was nowhere to be seen. 

 

She was upstairs, powdering her nose, and reapplying her lipstick. She knew the party had a good turn out, but it seemed everyone was getting quite rowdy downstairs. She’d be damned if she got left out of the fun at her own part - she finished dolling herself up, adjusted her neon pink dress, and headed down the stairs.

 

She stopped halfway down the steps, scanning the chaos, face lighting up in delight as she saw just WHO was at the center of the storm.

 

“No way.” She scoffed, walking down the last few stairs. “Is that Maxi-pad dryhumping half the football team?”

 

The DJ turned down the music a tad, and eyes were on the queen bee and Max.

 

“Fuck off!” Max replied, mid dry-hump”

 

“And would you looky here.” Angela said, turning to Eleven, who was still bent over, ass out, “The FREAK getting freaky! Poetic.”

 

Eleven straightened up, frowning. 

 

“We were having fun.” She said, “Before YOU arrived.”

 

Angela cackled, tipping her head back. “You're fucking adorable. It’s like watching a toddler grind on a stripper pole. Someone get her some waffles and some knee pads.”

 

“Oh lay off.” Dylan said, throwing an arm around Eleven’s shoulder, hand immediately going to grope one of her breasts. “These two have been keeping the party pumping while you been upstairs.”

 

Angela rolled her eyes, but a sly smile crossed her face.

 

“I guess you two HAVE been keeping everyone entertained.” She mused. “Bobby, Billy. Set the fire crotch down.”

 

The pair put Max down with great reluctance, who took the time to scamper a few feet away and adjust her clothes,

 

“But I’’m here now.” Angela continued, flipping her hair. “So that means the real fun starts again…Who’s up for some party games?”

 

Eleven tilted her head, “Games? Like at the arcade?”

 

Angela gave her an evil, mean girl, grin. “Oh sweetheart, these games are MUCH more interesting. SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN!”

 

The crowd lost their minds at the suggestion.

 

Eleven didn’t know why everyone was getting so excited; she never heard of the game. She hoped it was something like Pitfall, she liked that game. But from the expression on Max’s face, she was guessing it wasn’t - Max liked Pac-Man.

 

“First up, Max and one of the Delaneys” Angela announced.

 

“What?” Max sputtered, eyes going wide. “That - that’s not even how the game is played! Aren’t you supposed to spin a bottle?”

 

“My party, my rules!” Angela dismissed. “Now, Billy, Bobby, I’m thinking of a number between one and ten-”

 

“Five.” The brothers answered at the same time.

 

“You’re supposed to pick different numbers.”

 

Billy and Bobby looked at each other for a moment, then back at Angela.”

 

“Six.” They said.

 

Angela blinked at them. “Fuck it, Bobby, you go”

 

“Yes!” Bobby said, fist pumping.

 

“Aw. What a jip.” Billy gripped.

 

“Nuh uh.” Max said, shaking her said. “No way, nope. I’m not playing. You can’t make me.”

 

Angela arched an eyebrow.

 

A moment later, she was being carried around the waist by Bobby, as the rest of the party parted like the sea for them as he carried her to the hall closet.

 

“Put me down, you fucking oaf!” Max kicked and screamed. “Attica! I swear I’ll rip your tongue out if you don’t put me down right now!”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Bobby said, as he carried her like she was a sack of potatoes. 

 

“Eleven!” Max said, turning her head to her friend. “Help me! Throw some furniture with your mind or something!”

 

“I think this game is only two players.” Eleven said, completely serious. “Good luck, I hope you win!”

 

Max gave Eleven an utterly defeated look, as she was pulled into the closet, and the door slammed behind her.

 

“Alright, Maxi-” Angela called through the door. “Time starts…now!”

 

Eleven stood outside the door, curious as to what kind of game took place inside a closet. Eleven didn’t know if she wanted to play - she didn’t like small spaces. Everyone stood around the door, murmuring and laughing - Eleven hoped Max was doing a good job. 

 

Dylan was still standing close, arm sliding down her back now, to take a full palmfull of her ass. Eleven squeaked a bit.

 

“You and your friend really know how to party.” Dylan purred into her ear,

 

Eleven smiled at him. “Thank you. It’s my first one.”

 

“No shit?” Dylan laughed, still kneading Eleven’s thick ass. “You already know what school you goign to? You should come here, I’m sure the frat would love to make you a regular house bunny.”

 

Eleven smiled, and nodded politely. She did like rabbits, but she didn’t think they’d want to be stuck in a house all day. 

 

The minutes ticked on, the crowd still talking and cheering by the door, while, Dylan kept chatting up Eleven, groping and palming her ass. She was only half paying attention to him, her mind focused on Max, hoping she was winning. Hip To be Square pumped through the party speakers and Eleven hummed along. 

 

“Ten second left.” Angela announced. “Ten.”

 

“Nine.” The crowd began to chant

 

“Eight”

 

“Seven”

 

“Six.”

 

“Five”

 

“Four”

 

“Three”

 

“Two”

 

One was never said, Angela immediately yanking the door open. 

 

“Alright, you love birds, lets-” She began, only to immediately fall silent in shock.  Everyone watching fell silent, as Huey Lewis continued to blast.

 

“Oh. My. GOD!” Angela exclaimed. 

 

Inside, under dim closet light,  Max Mayfield - proud, sassy, “do not fuck with me” Max - was on her knees, between Bobby’s legs.  Her red hair was stuck to her cheeks with sweat, from all the dancing, the heat of the closeness, and her current frantic task.  Her top was half off, shifted down to her ribcage the top of her breasts split out and bouncing . And between her lips…was Bobby’s cock. 

 

Yes, the redhead firecracker was sucking dick; how she got there, she didn’t even know, but she was there, but she was there, and she was giving it her all, cheeks pulled inward in hard suction, head bobbing feverishly, drool running down her chin onto her cleavage and top, Bobby’s cock being pushed into her throat with wet intrusive gags.

 

Schlllrp….Gag….Gruckk…Gurgle.

 

“Holy shit” Someone exclaimed. “Red is gobbling up that dick!”

 

“Ginger’s getting face-fucked.” Someone else added.

 

“I should’ve guessed six.” Billy mumbled jealously.

 

In her wild dick sucking delirium, it took Max several moments to notice the door was open, and that she was exposed, Her head still bobbing and her lips still sucking for several more seconds. Only once her eyes flicked open did she see the mob.

 

Her whole body jolted. She froze with the cock still halfway in her mouth, eyes going wide in horror. She looked up at Bobby, who had a goofy look on his face, then back at the crowd, and only THEN did she pull her self off his cock, ass if was poisonous leaving it spit slick, connecting to her chin, and bobbing in the air. 

 

“I—I—uh—” she stammered, her voice a hoarse croak, her throat rubbed raw. She was still on her knees, Bobby’s cock twitching literally inches from her face. She gave her mouth a quick wipe with the back of her hand. “It’s not - it isn’t…I can explain!” She stammered loudly. “I, uh, lost my contact! Yeah, and I had to get down on my knees and look for it and-”

 

“What, tripped and fell onto his cock?” Angela laughed in disbelief at Max’s utterly pathetic excuse. Everyone around her laughed. Some took out disposable cameras, and took pictures, the flash discombobulating Max even more than previously inhaling dick.

 

“No, I-I-I…” Max began to stutter, trying to formulate another lame and improbable excuse.

 

“Oh fuck-” Bobby grunted. 

 

On instinct, Max looked back at Bobby, more specifically his cock.

 

Despite the brief respite, having his cock vacuumed just moments ago had Bobby on edge, an edge he couldn’t help going over. His cock twitched, a large vain on the side of it pulsing.

 

“I’m gonna-” He began, the rest obvious. 

 

What happened next was a little less obvious, Maybe Max’s brain was still a bit oxygen deprived from gagging on Bobby’s cock, maybe all the eyes, the smell of sex and sweat overrode the reasoning parts of Max’s usually intelligent brain, or maybe Max was just a bit of a closet slut - no pun intended - whichever the case may have been, the reaction was the same. Her frantic excuses cut off mid-word. Her eyes, already wide, somehow widened further. Her mouth fell open and on pure, regretful autopilot, she stuck her tongue out, laying it over her bottom lip like a pink slide. She tilted her chin up, and presented her face like a perfect, expectant target; her eyes crossed a bit, trying to focus on the cock head directly in front of her. 

 

Not even a second later, Bobby’s cock exploded. 

 

The first thick rope of cum splashed across Max’s tongue. 

 

SPLAT 

 

A second painted a glistening stripe across her cheekbone and the bridge of her nose.

 

SPLAT-SPLAT 

 

The third and fourth pulses landed in her hairline and across her forehead.

 

SPLAT

 

A final, powerful torrent hit her directly in the left eye, stinging and causing it to water

 

For a second, Max held the position, her tongue out, her eyes crossed slightly trying to look at the mess on her nose, her nostrils flaring. 

 

Everyone was silent during the ordeal - when a drop of come dripped down from Max’s cheek to the carpet, the crowd exploded again.

 

“OH MY GOD.” Angela laughed, covering her mouth in half disgust and pure amusement.

 

“Hawkings sluts are wild!”

 

Max snapped out of her cum trance, blinking rapidly, panic and embarrassment sinking in. She wiped her face frantically with her shirt, not caring that it made her tits pop out. She didn’t do a very good job, only making a mess of her face AND her shirt. She got to her feet, and booked it out the closet, pushing through the jeering, cheering and laughing crowd.

 

She ran right into Eleven and Dylan; Dylan had a sleazy grin on his face, while Eleven had a face of pure bewilderment. Seven Minutes in Heaven wasn’t like any game she had ever heard of, it seemed messy.

 

“Damn, I hope I can expect that kinda performance out of short stuff here.” Dylan said, giving Eleven’s ass another spank and grip for emphasis. 

 

Max looked at her friend, eyes red, face a mess of smeared cum and makeup, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. 

 

“D-don’t tell Lucas.” Max warbled, before turning and booking it up the stairs of the house. 

 

Eleven tilted her head in confusion. What was to tell?

 

Max won, didn’t she?

Notes:

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