Lola Loud studied her face in the vanity mirror then carefully pulled the brush through her long, blonde hair with a flourish. Ah. There we go. She checked her left cheek, then her right, then once more full on; perfect. She sat the brush down and got up, the silky pink fabric of her nightgown rustling against her bare legs. Lana was lying face down on her bed and snoring obscenely into her pillow, a long ribbon of silvery drool coursing down the corner of her mouth. Lola crinkled her nose. Ugh. She could understand how they were sisters, but twins?

In the hallway, she waited behind Lucy for the bathroom; the older girl's head was bent over a book and she softly whispered to herself in what sounded like Latin. Lola crossed her arms and rolled her eyes; if she summoned a demon and it interrupted her beauty sleep...

Luan came out of the bathroom and cracked a joke; Lola tuned it out because it was either that or let them get to you.

After Lucy went in, Lola was alone with the usual chaotic sounds of Friday night: Luna was mangling a chord on her guitar, Lynn was throwing a basketball against the wall, Lori was prattling away to Bobby on her phone. Oooh, boo boo bear snookie wookie. Yuck.

When her turn finally came, she locked the door, lifted her gown, and sat on the toilet; the one good thing about not being first...the toilet seat's never cold.

As she did her business, she thought about next Friday's Miss High and Mighty pageant. She knew she was a shoo in, but if that little bitch Lindsey Sweetwater was there, she'd have to work extra hard...and working extra hard is not something the Lola Loud should have to do.

Back in her room, she closed the door, crossed to her bed, and slipped beneath the covers, grabbing her sleep mask from the nightstand and putting it over her eyes. She leaned over, turned the lamp off, and laid back.

She was just starting to fall asleep when she felt the bed dip down and a hand fall on her hip. "Lana," she said, "go away. I'm not in the mood for games."

The blanket was yanked from her body and the hem of her dress was pushed roughly up. Anger filled Lola's chest. "Lana, I said stop."

She pulled the sleep mask up...and froze.

It wasn't Lana.

It was Lincoln; his face hovered inches about her own, his features shadowy and threatening in the light of the moon. "L-Lincoln?"

Suddenly he brought his fist down and stars filled her vision. She started to cry out, but he clamped his hand over her mouth& with the other, he pulled her underwear away and mounted her, his breathing coming in husky gasps. Lola's little heart began to race when she felt something press against her private parts. She had just enough time to register what was happening before he threw his hips into hers and his rigid member sank into her virgin passage. Tears sprang to her eyes as her walls ripped and quivered: She screamed against his hand but it came out as a muffled moan barely audible to even her own ears. Lincoln gasped and thrusted harder; the pain was exquisite, and Lola was dizzy with it.

"Take it," he said huskily, "take daddy's dick."

He thrusted again and again as Lola wept in silence...then he stopped and suddenly she was filled with wet, boiling heat.

Before she could move or even think, Lincoln wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed. He leaned in until their noses were almost touching, his eyes wild and his teeth bared. Lola watched in terror. "Tell anyone," he said, "and I'll kill you."

He released her, got up, and left, leaving her huddled on her side leaking blood, semen, and tears.