Challenge #01268-C173: Don't Make Her Angry

Sara Louise Adrian gate-crashes group of wanna-be Queen Bees. Chaos ensues. Sara can be any age.-- KnitNan

Dangerous things happened when Sara got bored. At the moment, according to her mother, she was 'between schools' and 'trying to find her place in life'.

She could hear them from the top of the stairs. All that ego and no real audience. The younger voices thought that they were the absolute best that humanity had to offer. And her mother was agreeing with them, trying to gain their favour. Which meant that they were from the next two steps up the social ladder, at least.

And from the general thrust of the conversation, Sara could guess that Mother was trying to help them to comport themselves like Proper Ladies. Jaquelline was trying to tell them that their current means of becoming popular was not the good way.

Sara returned to her computer and brought up their Facebook pages. Then their Twitter accounts. Then their Pintrest.

Yikes. Even though they were fairly high up on the social scale, they were aiming to become famous by providing soft porn for the entire world. Even if Sara showed the maximum amount of skin, she would never get that many notes. Or likes. Or whatever.

Sara next image-searched the darker parts of the web to see where these ladies' pictures were shared. Double yikes.

It didn't take much technical prowess to paste these girls' faces on to porn star bodies.

Sara crept down the stairs and entered their sanctuary. Of course Mother was holding her lessons in the Pink Room. Where Most of Sara's most recent accomplishments were "too strange" to join the altar of faded glory.

"Oh grooooossss..." said one of them, performing a perfect sneer. "You're that kid's mom?"

Of course, certain circles had become to know Sara as 'that kid'. That kid, who pulled fantastic stunts to get kicked out of school. That kid, who was always up to something weird. That kid, who somehow managed to know everyone's full names, and was prepared to use them.

Sara could gauge by all their sneering that they hadn't learned to be afraid of her weirdness, yet. They probably might, eventually, but they seemed like really slow learners.

"Mother," she said. "You aren't getting through to them, so I thought I might help. Can I use the television, please?"

The sneers converted to eye-rolls and giggles. None of these girls had reached their fifteenth year, and yet they all had breasts. And weren't afraid to use them.

They would be.

Mother had a similar eye-roll. "Is this going to be one of your moral cartoons?" Translation: am I about to be embarrassed in front of these nice people?

Sara bit down hard on yet another lecture on the difference between parody and documentary. Instead of launching that, she said, "No, Mother. This is all about these ladies. It's... something of a tribute. To their amazing skills on the social networks."

The sneers stopped cold. Expressions wavering between surprise and delight began to bloom on their painted faces. "Let her show us, Mrs Adrien. I'd love to see what your little girl can do."

Sara could feel her mother attempting to find the politest way to say, No you wouldn't. So she took over the television while the four young ladies were busily pleading to see it. Sara smirked the instant they couldn't see her face. Appealing to vainglory had to be the easiest bait in town.

The screen lit up. There was a montage of some of their least-risque vanity shots. Music played over the images as they became increasingly daring.

Sara stepped out of their view. The young ladies were riveted by their own beauty. One was pinkie-applauding.

The words, What happens after they "like" you? appeared after the screen and the music changed to Hall of the Mountain King.

Sara knew it was a deluge of straight-up pornography, and the comments from the sites stayed up longer, so they could read them.

Nobody was smiling now. Least of all Mother, who had been trying to educate these ladies in a manner by which they would easily ignore her. They couldn't nod and smile at this. They couldn't ignore this.

"I'm deleting my accounts," said one of them, after the screen went blank.

"Yes, you could do that," said Sara, "But they still have all the pictures you posted. And all the pictures they've made. And all of the pictures their friends have made. They have enough of your facial expressions to animate your head on anyone else's body for a movie, if they have the time and the inclination. They can make money off of all of that for quite some time. Anything you share with the internet can last forever."

Now there was a wailing and a gnashing of teeth. Now there was a hue and cry. Now there was regret.

"I could still help you," Sara offered. "I can attach a Trojan virus to -say- a new picture of two of you kissing. Not only will it send all the porn they have to the nearest authorities, but it will send information about the entire family, deduce the most likely suspects, and if they try to delete any evidence? It will distribute their picture across the internet with a full confession about how much of a pedophile they are."

" dough... file?" echoed one of the young ladies.

"People who want to have sex with someone before that someone reaches the age of consent," said Sara. "Kiddie fiddlers. While you all haven't done anything... overt... the people who made those pictures are guilty of distributing child pornography. And I," she smiled like the Devil, "want to burn them. For a little extra, I can make the Trojan trash any website it's posted on."

"I knew you were going to bring money into this," snapped Mother.

"Oh, you mistake me, Mother. I meant... a little extra for you. Surely all these ladies and their families can... help you, somehow? Perhaps, recommend a few places, here and there? Help you meet the right people? Just a display of gratitude. That's all."

It was the biggest Pedophile bust in history. And it went nationwide. Shortly before it went global. Even some news stations credited the hacker known only as Miss Mytzlplk, who came and went like a shooting star.

The FBI wanted to find Miss Mytzlplk, aka Sara Louise Adrien, but that was not really anything new. She was used to it.

(Muse food remaining: 20. Submit a Prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories! Or comment below!)