College Chronicles Ep. 08 Pt. 02

Natalie led me to one of our favorite coffee shops, fuming with silent, poorly-concealed rage the entire time. When we arrived, I quickly went to the bathroom to wash the feeling of Jaxx's cock off my hand, leaving Natalie alone, angrily staring into space.

In the bathroom, I quickly washed my hands before splashing some cold water in my face and eyeing the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot from crying, and I was still sniffling unattractively. Despite it, I couldn't shake a certain vain satisfaction, maybe even pride. I had done what Jaxx had wanted- and he had enjoyed it. I watched myself in the mirror, examining every detail. I hadn't been imagining it in the morning; my already attractive looks were more soft and feminine, from my face to my figure. Even in the baggy, ugly clothes I had chosen, I affected a sort of androgynous comeliness, especially with my blonde fringe and a slight pout.

I remembered the way Jaxx had lowered my hood. How his strong, wide hand had felt engulfing my neck. For some reason a mellow warmth overtook the feelings of hot anger and resentment I had towards him. I guess I felt like being on his good side was better than being the target of more bullying. And I was pretty sure he was happy with me. He HAD called me pretty. There was a strange shameful warmth at that memory too. I couldn't help but think about his throbbing erection, even now bringing a blush to my face. Would he be mad at me for not finishing? He hadn't looked mad.

Maybe he would let me finish what I started with his tool.

Maybe he would make me.

The thought stirred dark, tempting feelings deep at my core. I pushed them back down and briefly fretted with my hair, before wiping my eyes and nose then heading back out to Natalie.

When I reached our table, Natalie was composed and staring me down with a quiet contempt. I sat down to icy silence, and waited for moments that stretched into a minute. Natalie began tapping against the table with nervous energy, and eventually she erupted in exasperation,

"Well?!"

"W-what?"

"What were you fucking thinking back there? Why was your hand in his... What... Why did you let him do that?!"

I blinked in surprise at her blunt, aggressive questioning. What was I thinking? I hadn't been. I was feeling guiltier by the second; memories of Jaxx's pleasure were fading and being replaced by the realisation that I had let him do that to me. Natalie didn't know it, but I had as much fault as he did. She couldn't know that. And she definitely couldn't know that I was weirdly attracted to his enormous dick. So I had to resort to lies, again. It didn't strike me as ironic at the time that I was lying so much to the two people closest to me.

"I-I... He... He said he'd leave me alone if I... touched him..." I didn't have to fake the tears that came to my eyes, for once my leaky tear ducts were coming in useful. "I d-didn't know what to do... Nat... I think he's GAY for me!" I don't know why I added this last detail, but I had heard her spit the world like an epithet at Jaxx when she interrupted us, and now hoped it would make her less angry with me. It worked; her face morphed from sharp to soft in a second, eyebrows curving in concern as she leaned forward and hugged me tightly. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I couldn't help slightly enjoying the sensation of her large breasts pressed against me. Just more evidence of me being a huge slut, a quiet voice whispered in the back of my mind.

"Oh Sam! I'm sorry... It just... You looked like..." I managed to supress a cringe of guilt as she rationalised a way to believe my lie, "Ugh! I just hate him so much! Just seeing that jock asshole gets me all crazy." She composed herself, mockingly flourishing one hand before her face and a dramatic deep breath. "Okay, so he attacked you right? Let's go to campus security, you can tell them what happen—" she was already rising from her seat, but I rushed to interrupt her,

"UHHH No!" my interjection was followed by awkward silence, and her quizzical look was quickly showing hints of impatience. "I-I... I don't think he'll do it again." The words fell lamely from my lips, but after a second of puzzled silence, Natalie shrugged and sat back down on her chair, leaning forward and pulling me to her breast again.

I was right not to believe myself.

We sat and talked for a while, consciously avoiding what had just happened. Eventually Natalie got up to get us a drink, and I checked my phone for the first time in what felt like forever. I had only one text, but it kicked my heart into overdrive and spurred a chilled shiver from my neck to my toes. Cindy! I had totally forgotten about her amidst the chaos Jaxx was wreaking in my life.

Dinner 2nite. B ready in 001 at 6.

I felt my stomach drop. The text was terse, with none of Cindy's usual flirty emoji usage. Something was wrong. As Natalie came back to the table and placed a drink before me, I slipped the phone away and hid my grimace. Cindy didn't need a response, she just needed me ready.

We sat for a little longer in the coffee shop, sipping our drinks in contemplative silence. I was thankful for it; my mind was wholly focused on anxiety about Cindy's text. Why was she so serious? What was going to happen at dinner? Between my thoughts and the coffee I soon felt seriously jittery, uncontrollably tapping my fingers or my feet or both. Eventually I reached a breaking point, I had to occupy my mind somehow or I'd go insane.

"I'm going back to class!" I blurted the words out, and I blushed as Natalie looked at me in surprised amusement. "I...I'm worried about missing them... And... I think it would help me forget about... You know..."

Natalie's look turned to pity, and she shook her head in agreement and put a hand on mine.

"I guess, if you say so... But i'm too angry to sit in class, I'm gonna skip today. Will you click for me?" She smiled sweetly and I gladly assented. I could use some time to myself, where my distraction wouldn't be noticed.

The day passed slowly with no one to interrupt that distraction and sense of growing dread. Was Cindy mad at me? Of course she was. But why? Had I done something wrong? Could she have found out my lies? Which ones? Did she know what Jaxx had done to me the last 24 hours? Would that make her happy, or angry? Could Cindy be... jealous? I felt foolish just for thinking it; what could she possibly have to be jealous about? Eventually I came to an inescapable conclusion. If she wasn't mad at me, she should be. I deserved it. But knowing that didn't lessen the weight that sat in my stomach, couldn't drown out the thoughts that shouted over each of my lecturing professors. By the time my lessons were over for the day and I headed back to 001, I felt as if I hadn't attended anything at all, and was more stressed out than I'd been at the start of the day.

Thankfully Jaxx wasn't in the room when I returned. Relieved, I breathed deeply and truly relaxed for the first time all day. I tried to pass time by firing up an old video game save, but I couldn't concentrate on it. I switched to some old episodes of a sitcom that I knew by heart, idly watching as I swiped mindlessly on my phone. Even that didn't provoke a chuckle, and I eventually turned it off and paced my small area of the room restlessly, worrying about my date.

Finally, I just decided to get ready. I still had more than an hour before I expected her, so I could take my time. I took a long, hot shower, washing myself thoroughly and luxuriating in the feelings of water cascading over my smooth, soft skin. I spent nearly a half hour after enjoying the humid warmth of the bathroom and checking myself out in the mirror, once more confirming the changes I had noticed in myself earlier in the day. A fatter ass, tiny titties on my chest, and more feminine features. But the subtle change was more than physical. My last encounter with Jaxx had revealed that. I hadn't just tolerated his masculine touch and assumed dominance, I'd encouraged it. I had crumpled before him like a wet paper bag. I was always awkward and shy, but never before to that extent. I was different, and the strangest part, which I couldn't get over no matter how I tried, was that I didn't really mind.

It was too much for my already stressed, restless mind to think about, so I didn't. I spent some time drying my hair awkwardly (I didn't really have the tools to deal with how long it was getting) and after uselessly squeezing it in my towel, left it to air dry. I inspected my body again, this time a little perturbed by my other hair. I had never had to worry about facial hair, and definitely never been able to compare myself to the veritable gorillas running around the boys' locker room in high school; during those days I had fretted and cringed about my smooth body and pale skin. But now, even the few short hairs on my chest and the fine strands that ran up my legs bothered me. It all seemed unkempt, an embarrassing oversight or pathetic attempt to cling to fragile, unconvincing masculinity. But I had no idea how to fix it, or even how I would start, so I again decided not to deal with it.

Dressing, I was glad to peruse my closet, in part due to Cind's recent influences. We had moved all of my old, baggy clothes to a disorganised drawer, where I had pulled my hoodie combo from in my flight from Jaxx. Now however I looked to the hangers, where Cindy had helped me arrange the new clothes she had bought for me. It seemed like each week Cindy had another outfit she had purchased and wanted to see; by now I had accumulated a modest selection of styles and colors. Her sense of fashion was varied, but universally the clothing she had purchased me was tight, and most was vibrant—much more colorful than I was used to, to my dismay and her constant amusement.

While she had not purchased me any 'traditional' girls' clothing like the skirts and dresses she dressed me up in sometimes, all of my clothing from her was... certainly not masculine. Most of the pants were loose and flowing at the ankles, tight and form-fitting at the waist and rear. Shirts she bought me were especially tight around my upper chest and often cut low at the neck and high at my midriff.

I eventually settled on a tried and true combination. I had to hop in the dark skinny-jeans, easily pulling them up my legs only to fight to stuff my embarrassingly bubble-shaped ass into the seat. On top I wore a tight white t-shirt and a black turtleneck, both of which I tucked into the jeans. The turtleneck was one of the only dark objects of clothing Cindy had purchased for me, so I thought it was a good compromise between my taste and hers, and hopefully one that might buy me leniency. It was very tight, especially at my neck, just below my armpits and around my stomach. At first I had chafed at the snugness, constantly tugging at the lush fabric. After a few reprimands from Cindy I had mentally adjusted, and now I was beginning to enjoy the seductive caress of the no-doubt expensive clothing, the way it curved and contoured with my body. As I had found in the morning, I even preferred that comforting embrace to the sagging folds of my old comfort clothes.

Cleaned and dressed up, I fell onto my bed and tried again to lose myself in social media scrolling. But after a minute, restlessness filtered in, and I found myself barely paying attention as I swiped and swiped. Standing up and doing a few idle circuits of the room, I decided to take a pass at using makeup. In my head it made sense; I could use a little, subtly, to both impress Cindy and enhance my appearance.

I tried to keep things simple: some foundation and concealer to cover blemishes and shore up my complexion, a little bit of eyeliner and mascara to accentuate my large eyes. I guess I got a bit carried away; I probably didn't need to add blush (I thought it gave a bit of color to my pale cheeks) or lip-liner and gloss (to make my lips more full and defined, duh!). But I had enjoyed the rhythms of applying makeup since Cindy taught me, and falling into the routine made my anxiety melt away, the time fly past. When I was done, I thought it was a job well done! I told myself the now undeniably feminine cast to my face wasn't THAT noticeable, and deep down I tried to fight back a bubbling surge of pride.

That pride dwindled again when I remembered the precariousness of my situation with Cindy, and once more felt the butterflies in my stomach. Luckily I only needed to pass another half hour or so, but the time dragged as I fretted over what I was sure would be an evisceration from Cindy, probably ending with her breaking up with me.

Even alone, my eyes widened and I moaned softly at the thought. She might be breaking up with me. It hadn't occured before, but now it was so obvious. And really, I deserved it. She was so out of my league, so beyond me in every possible way. I knew she was fucking Jaxx, probably more than they let me see, and I didn't care. I remembered (not quite clearly) her abuses; but more I remembered the release, how she took away my control and made me cum like I had never imagined possible, like I couldn't in my own hands. What she did to me... What she made me do... I was beginning to like it, the sense of utter helplessness and surrender to her will. And ultimately, I had faith in her to make choices for me. She had even protected me from Jaxx, his behaviour towards me changing overnight in a strange, but darkly promising way.

At that moment I made my mind up. I couldn't let Cindy break up with me. No matter what it took, no matter what she wanted from me, I would prove that I deserved at least a second chance. So I waited, now patient with my new purpose and resolve. When my phone finally dinged with a message from her, I nearly jumped out of my skin from the nervous energy.

Here. Car is a black prius. Hurry!

I hastily grabbed my keys and phone before flying out the door, ricocheting down the narrow corridors and slowing to a speedy walk as I left the building and headed to the street. When I swung open the car door, I was surprised to be met by Cindy's beaming, vulpine smile, disarming me with what seemed like genuine joy. She was a vision; her auburn hair cascaded down her thin neck to the shoulders of the black leather jacket she wore over what looked like a fluffy white sweater. The black jacket was very reminiscent of the once Jaxx had been wearing earlier that day (aside from the fuzzy lining peeking out) but I was distracted from the similarities by the rest of her look. Devestatingly long and lithe legs were mostly exposed under a dark purple miniskirt with enticing lace trimming, and I could see the tops of dark boots as I slid into the car.

As the driver pulled out into traffic Cindy warmly hugged me, the strength of her embrace always unexpected. I was on my back foot; I had expected a much different reception. Pressed firmly into her neck, strands of luxurious hair flowing across my face, I inhaled her intoxicating scent and my plans and anxieties and goals and worries all disappeared like smoke in wind. She broke the hug and began telling me about some drama at the sorority while I nodded and smiled, barely listening but entranced by her melifluous voice and ethereal beauty. Her red hair was so vibrant and powerful; it stood out perfectly where it fell against the black leather collar she wore popped up. The purple of the skirt and her sheer beauty lent her a majestic glow, even awkwardly turned to me in the back of a random car.

I don't know how long we rode. I was somehow engrossed by Cindy but simultaneously failing to comprehend or pay attention, too overwrought by my nerves and fears. I knew she could tell, too. I was being even more awkward than usual, stammering and bashfully avoiding eye contact like I had when I'd first met her. But she didn't comment on it, only giving me a strange, amused look that I might have imagined.

Eventually the car stopped. We were outside a fancy French restaurant in the center of the city our college was adjacent to. The entire area was well-lit from streetlights and storefronts, bustling with early evening crowds. A group of men in fancy suits was just going into the restaurant, standing out from the other more casually dressed city goers that strolled the sidewalks.

Cindy got out of the car, and I took a moment for a deep breath, steadying myself against what I suspected would be a long night. I caught movement in the corner of my eyes, and when I looked up I found my gaze met by our driver in the rear-view mirror. Because of the angle, I could only see a rectangle including his bloodshot eyes and the bridge of his nose, his skin swarthy, marred with spots and scars. A lank tuft of pure black hair jutted out into the reflection. The eyes sharpened as they met my gaze, and I found myself caught for a second, not knowing if he would speak. Then he winked lewdly, the other eye maintaining its hungry stare. I gulped and quickly exited the car. I guessed my makeup had been a little too effective... but I couldn't spend any energy on this new horror, I had enough to deal with concerning Cindy. I pushed it down and let a smile spread across my lips, thinking about how beautiful she looked.

Cindy was already strolling off towards the restaurant, boots clicking on the sidewalk, and as I hustled to keep up I was feeling a little self-conscious. I had clearly underdressed for the location, but it wasn't my fault— Cindy hadn't told me where we were going! She paused to wait for me just before the door, and though I felt like my deficient attire was glaringly, embarrassingly obvious, she only flashed a smile before linking arms with me and leading us inside.

The restaurant was as refined and polished on the inside as it was the outside; pristine white walls, high ceilings and broad glass windows that gave the entire building an airy brightness. I was even more intimidated by the dining room, packed with couples and small groups, all dressed as fancily as the group I'd seen come in. All the people were beautiful, in different ways, but universally fit and attractive. Waiters and waitresses flitted around the room, dressed primly in black and white uniforms.

As we approached the hostess (a tall, model-esque brunette) her eyes scanned me quickly, and I saw her nose crinkle with distaste, like I was a bad odor slipping in off the street. Her eyes kept scanning, and the grimace turned into a broad smile as she recognised Cindy. Cindy smiled back, and they laughed in recognition before kissing the air by each other's cheeks, then fell into conversation. I was left sidelined, looking on awkwardly as the two beautiful woman spoke, neither inviting me into the conversation. Then the hostess made a signal with her fingers, and a waiter suddenly appeared, greeting Cindy and indicating we should follow him to our table. Cindy did so without even a glance in my direction, and I hurried along after her, hoping proximity could keep me safe from more critical looks.

Though they were dressed more expensively, the men here were the same as the boys at bars we usually went to. I could see heads turn to follow Cindy's progress between tables, eyes tracking her lithe, swaying figure. She was also followed by angry expressions on wives and girlfriends faces as they realised what their dates were looking at. It even seemed like one or two of the turned heads were following me as I was swept up meekly in her wake. I brushed it off as imagination, but I couldn't totally erase the sight of lecherous smiles from my memory.

We arrived at the table and waiter pulled out Cindy's chair, giving me slight side eye as he waited for her, then bustling away and returning shortly with menus. I was so intimidated by our surroundings, my self-consciousness, Cindy's unearthly beauty, that I could barely focus on the menu. We sat in silence to the background noises of muted conversations and silverware clinking. I felt awkward, but Cindy still had the same aura of preternatural self-possession, as if she owned the restaurant and was loaning her space to everyone else inside. Luckily, she realised my distraction and ordered for us both, getting a bottle of wine (no I.D. check necessary, obviously) and what turned out to be miniscule portions of fancy French vegetarian dishes with unpronounceable names.