Part 2, on the train
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I settled into my seat, my brain accounting for every personal slight against me; the legroom was too short, the backrest was too uncomfortable, the armrest was too cold. Until I'd realized my problem was actually deeper within me. My encounter earlier on the station had ignited a strong sensation of lust. A feeling that still simmered deep inside and had not been properly extinguished.

Normally, I didn't find it necessary to fuck on the commute to school. On the way home, sure, but the trip was pretty short and there were hundreds (or thousands, if it's the beginning of the school year) of girls available at P.S. 103 on arrival. And for those that do take a cock warmer on the train, usually you find one *before you get on the damn train.*

My lust reaching its boiling point, I shot upright, overcome by a surge of urgency to seize a suitable target. Roaming from row to row, I cast an evaluative eye, seeking to secure a desirable receptacle for my mounting frustrations. But my search was entirely in vain, as all the rows in my car were empty. This was an unforseen development, given that I ride this train to work at an all-girls middle school. There should be a place to put my cock somewhere on this train. I veered ever closer to desperation, as I open the door to the car to the next car on the train.

Finally, divine intervention arrived. Out of the blue, my gaze fell upon Scarlett, the daughter of my new secretary—a fleeting glimpse of salvation among a sea of disillusionment. A sense of relief washed over me instantaneously.

Perched on the edge of her chair, Scarlett looked adorably petite. I looked her up and down, cataloguing every detail of her delicate form. Her fiery red locks framed her cherubic countenance, peppered with a sprinkle of charming freckles. Her diminutive legs swung carelessly, while she was completely engrossed in a game on her phone, whatever it was. Adorned with a set of headphones that featured a pair of plush kitten ears, she was completely absorbed, diligently focused on the action unfolding onscreen, her lips pursed together, making her already small mouth look even smaller in complete concentration.

I tap her on the shoulder. Startled, Scarlett yelped at my unexpected touch, spinning in her chair to face me. "Oh, hi, Mr. Branson! You surprised me!"

"Having fun?" I ask, pointing at her game.

Suppressing a giggle, she addressed me, gesturing at her Nintendo DS, "Yeah, really enjoying this new Pokémon game! It's been super fun!"

"That's awesome," I say absentmindedly. I continue eye fucking her, and I notice she doesn't have a P. S. 103 uniform on. "Wait, where's your uniform?" I ask.

"No, silly!" Scarlett replied in a hushed tone, averting her gaze, "I don't go to middle school! I'm only eight and a half, remember?"

Demurely, she tugged aside the hem of her skirt and bent over, revealing the monstrous butt plug distorting her small body. "Mommy accidentally wore mine this morning instead of hers, so I'm bringing hers so we can switch."

I smirked at the revelation—of course she's only eight; those modest contours told no lies. In fact, everything about her appearance aligned neatly with such a claim. Undeniably petite, Scarlett boasted a body barely reaching the precipice of maturity. Flat as a washboard, her chest held no curves worth noting, contrasting sharply with the bloated silhouette consuming her rear end—the colossal butt plug mercilessly expanding her otherwise firm, round bottom.

And after seeing that bare backside, the simmering flame in me burst into an inferno. Grasping Scarlett forcefully, I wrenched the monstrous plug from her tender grip, earning a heartrending shriek in protest.

Feverishly, I grappled with my belt, hastily liberating myself. Splitting Scarlett's ravaged orifice apart, I forced my way through the burning tunnel enveloping my shaft.

Frantic, Scarlett stammered, "Mr. Branson, please—this isn't… Isn't…" Agony warped her once-recognizable facial features, tears streaming down her reddening cheeks. Strangled gasps for air turned into shrill squeals, punctuated periodically by my ruthless pounding.

Plunging deeper and harder into Scarlett, I savored her escalating moans, a medley of pleasure infused with painful weeping. Submission emanated from her petite form, succumbing completely to our sinful performance.

With newfound fervor, Scarlett's voice rang out in piercing shrieks—near hysterical pleas for mercy tainted with sadistic lust resonated throughout the previously silent carriage. "SIR, YES! PLEASE HURT ME—MAKE ME SUFFER! I NEED IT SO BADLY!"

Clutching onto the armrests, Scarlett's fingers whitened, nails gouging leather upholstery. With each of my punishing thrusts, she arched further, accommodating my relentless drive. A maelstrom of emotions swirled chaotically within her—agonizing torment vied for dominance over exhilarating pleasure. Unbelievably, she persisted begging—imploring me to push deeper, harder, quicker.

Rotating Scarlett for optimal viewing, I peered intently at her tear-streaked face, witnessing genuine pain transform into pleasure-filled sobs—each punctuated by involuntary jolts evoking a sharp intake of breath.

Scarlett feverishly ripped open her shirt, buttons flying in every direction. Offering herself entirely, she whispered hoarsely, "Take me, Mr. Branson—use my worthless loli body however you see fit." Displaying innocence compromised by unfathomable urges, she exposed herself completely—chest bare, inviting exploration.

Triggered by Scarlett's sincere self-abasement, a tidal wave of release coursed through me. Grunting fiercely, I climaxed violently and filled her bowels to the brim. Scarlett's delicate slit convulsed desperately around void air. Arms flaccidly dangling and head lolled back, she lay limp—lost completely in ecstasy, propped up by only my hands gripping her waist.

Post-climactic tranquility washed over me. Scarlett's now deeply ruined asshole was an oasis in an expansive desert. Calmness blanketed me, suffusing senses dulled by hectic activity.

My post nut enlightenment wasn't for long however, as I saw the conductor speeding over to me. Stopping abruptly, he confronted me, asserting, "Excuse me, sir, but this is the quiet car. Your...uh, enthusiasm might be disturbing the other passengers." Embarrassment colored his cheeks slightly, yet underlying irritation proved impossible to conceal.

Still catching my breath, I surveyed the carriage. In my lust-induced stupor, my vision had blinders to anything that didn't lead me to shoving my cock in a tight hole. Plain as day, clear as crystal, "Quiet Car: Respect the Ambiance" signs were abundantly clear all over the car. Blame fell squarely on my own negligence.

However, on looking around the car, I made an observation. Except for me, the conductor, and little Scarlett, there were zero passengers here. Seeing my confused look, the official insisted, "Sir, regulations apply regardless—even when they seem unnecessary. We must ensure order and respect for others' peace."

The conductor hesitated momentarily before continuing, "If you wish to engage in such activities here, it's customary courtesy to eliminate any potential disturbances." He extended a small item—a complimentary razor blade.

I accepted the razor blade, but scoffed inwardly. The conductor just saw me blow my load into this girl. We're not going to be making any more noise. P. S. 103 was also pulling into view, and I'd be disembarking soon. However, I wanted to preserve what was left of my peace, and I didn't feel like arguing with the conductor. He was just doing his job, and I didn't want to get some official warning for disturbing the quiet car.

With exaggerated politeness, I placed the blade firmly against Scarlett's delicate throat. Surprise flickered across her visage, followed swiftly by terror and arousal. Blood gushed forth like a crimson river, cascading down her prepubescent breast buds. Convulsions seized her slender form, triggering a series of shuddering orgasms—violent enough to set off tremors that reverberated through my still-embedded dick. However, my recent release left my cock fairly insensitive, and it wasn't as responsive to her spasming as it would be otherwise.

Life faded gradually from Scarlett's gaze, replaced by emptiness. Propped up by only one of my arms that dwarfed her body, she reveled in the ultimate surrender. Body quaking uncontrollably, her euphoria verged on catastrophic release. Only faltering physiology held her back now, stifling voluminous cries of pleasure behind gritted teeth.

Satisfied, the conductor nodded approvingly at the sight. I withdrew myself from Scarlett's lifeless hust, releasing a substantial amount of cum to pool on the floor from her dilapidated rectum.

Eventually, the train ground to a halt, allowing me to step off gracefully. I dragged Scarlett's corpse alongside by her lush, red locks, looking for a trash to toss her in.

Suddenly I hear the conductor's voice behind me. "Wait sir, did you forget this?" He's holding up the titanic buttplug that Scarlett somehow managed to fit inside her this morning.

I chuckled lightly, recalling the morning's unexpected turn of events, and received the butt plug. "Thank you," I say, "I totally forgot."

The conductor nods and retreats back onto the train. I locate a nearby dumpster and start dragging Scarlett's body over to it. "Your mom's gonna get a kick out of this story," I say to Scarlett's corpse, her vinyl shoes making a soft scraping sound on the concrete walkway.

I open the dumpster, and see it has a couple dozen lolis in it, all in in various states of dismemberment. "Hmm, they must've emptied it this morning," I think to myself, surprised it's not more full. I carelessly toss Scarlett's corpse into the dumpster. Her body clangs against the steel walls, and lands in a less-than-dignified pose, her ruined and cum leaking rectum up in the air, presented for all to see.

I smile at the sight, and start walking to campus. I flip the butt plug in my hand, excited to recount this morning's events to Scarlett's mom.