DROP SIXTY
Cherry covered her cooch with her hands. The others stripped her down and tried to comfort her, but nothing made her feel better.
“Here, wear these,” a redhead Pinup said and threw her a pair of protective goggles. Cherry tried to catch it, then realised her cooch was showing again, so she covered it back, and the goggles fell and she fumbled for them. The girls giggled at her and whispered stuff amongst themselves, pointing at her.
Cherry wanted to die.
They pushed her out to the training grounds, along with another n***d Pinup. She too was short and fast, definitely a qwik herself, Cherry’s analytical mind told her. They had spoken briefly the other day. She was a week older than eighteen, a brunette, and had asked the other girls for advice on how to cut her hair. They to
