College Chronicles Ep. 09

She yanked me to my feet to fuss with me for a moment, primping my hair and dropping the sleeves from my shoulders to just around the tops of my arms. Then she stepped back and looked me up and down critically, pursing her lips in thought.

"It's just... missing... Oh!"

She spun back around to her wardrobe, rummaging through a drawer full of jewelery. When she returned, she looped a necklace with a small silver sun around me, and threaded two matched small silver moons into my ears. Finally satisfied, she stepped away to give me a clear view of myself in her mirror.

I was floored. I'd dressed up with Cindy before, but this was something more substantive. It felt more permanent, even though it could all be undone; a key turned in a lock, a door opened, a path cleared. I didn't just look like a girl, I felt like a girl, sweet and feminine, a little exposed and a little cold but basking in the churning warmth from within that swelled as I dragged my fingers down my soft outfit and smooth skin. My hair swayed around my head, and I drew one hand through it, pulling a few strands back messily in pale imitation of the same comely motion Cindy often performed. I turned around, took a few steps forward and backward, focusing on swaying my hips as she'd shown me, watching the way the skirt swept left and right, and how my legs looked as I pranced for show.

Cindy laughed at my parading, and pointed me to a pair of black, heeled-boots, commenting on how lucky I was to share her shoe size. Then I stood complete in front of the mirror, a little taller, a lot prettier, and a smidge bolder than usual, fortified by the ego-boost of my transformation.

And Cindy had one more accessory for me.

She left me captivated by my own reflection, like some exotic bird, and returned a moment later with an object in each hand. As I turned she held them up and waved at me playfully. In the left, a see-through tube full of a watery substance and a black dispenser head. In the right, a small purple heart-shaped toy that put the left hand in context.

My burgeoning confidence plummeted as I realized what Cindy wanted. My heart raced in my chest, the tempo of beats galloping as I tried and failed to get a grip. My protest was thin and weak, a whined excuse.

"Ohh... uhh... I don't know about—..."

"Shhhh, don't worry." She was calm, tone carrying a dismissive edge that cut off the words as they fell out of my mouth.

Before I could make any other excuses, her hand was on the small of my back, pushing me down to bend over her makeup table, spreading my knees slightly with one hand. I heard the click of the bottle of lube, telltale sounds of wetness as she readied the butt plug. Then she abruptly flipped my skirt up and released the clasp of my jumpsuit, baring my panty-clad ass. She couldn't resist giving my helpless bottom a firm spank and a rough grope, prompting a low moan to slip from my lips. I had such high hopes for the day, all dashed by Cindy's fiendish devices.

Cindy could sense my waning confidence from the despair in my moan, and offered a little comfort,

"Shhh babe, it's just a little toy. You took it easy before! It'll make today more fun! Don't stress, just be chill... I promise, I'll take care of everything."

It didn't eliminate my fears, but her reassurances did allay them somewhat. She was right—I had taken this plug before, and it hadn't even hurt much (after a bit). Would it make the day more 'fun'? Maybe for her. For me? I was less sure. But I had to trust her, or the whole house of cards I'd built would come crushing down around me.

She pulled my panties to the side, I felt the contact of the cold lube and plug pressing to my asshole, and all thoughts fled my mind. I flinched with my whole body, a quiver of fear.

"Deep breaths, and try to relax. If you push out a little bit it will go easier too."

Then I felt pressure against my hole, pushing against the tightly closed entrance. It was different than before— I sensed less pulling tension against my ring. From previous experience, I knew what to expect, and now the slow, building tension sent chills running up my spine. It was easier to relax this time, to push out a bit, and feel my hole open to the intruding presence. Finally, like magic I gave way, the smooth cone sliding inside me as I clenched around it needfully.

Cindy was impressed,

"Oh my goddd, your little hole is greedy! All that whining, and it was so easy. Wasn't that easy?"

From her tone, I could tell she expected an answer.

"Yeah... It was... easy..." I murmured my assent as I straightened, ashamedly fixing my panties, re-clasping the jumpsuit, and flipping my skirt back down. The plug sat firmly inside me, base rubbing against my clothing when it moved. It wasn't comfortable— but it wasn't UNcomfortable. It was more just there, a constant full sensation in my asshole, reminding me of what I was letting Cindy do, a depraved reality check for what now felt like a silly game of dress-up.

I found myself squirming and fidgeting as I stood waiting for Cindy's attention, struggling fruitlessly to find a position that would alleviate the pressure. Eventually I settled for standing on the balls of my feet, arching my back to lessen the constant stimulation. Unfortunately, this also left me standing in Cindy's preferred, slutty posture; chest and ass pushed out unnecessarily. She MUST have noticed, but she didn't mention it, leaving at least some of my humiliation unspoken.

Instead she excitedly hurried over to me, phone in hands.

"Okay, remember the app I showed you? Your plug is linked, so I can see your heartbeat and blood pressure and all sorts of data."

She showed me the screen, but I barely looked, overwhelmed by the information. Why did she need all of that? My questions were answered as I thought them,

"I know, I know, it's a little extra... But this way, I can tell when it's in you..." She tossed her hair, full force of her gaze turning from her phone to me. "...So just in case you take it out... I'd know." Her smile still dazzled, but her voice had gone flat and her eyes sparkled dangerously, underlining the clear threat.

I gulped—literally, a big cartoon gulp of fear— then nodded dumbly, unable to muster words but needing to show I understood her implication. Plug out of ass + Cindy = bad things for Sami. The math was undeniable.

She stared me down for a moment longer, smile totally gone, cold as stone, and I wanted to beg or cry or fall to my knees and promise her I would do whatever she wanted. Then as quickly as the sun appears from behind clouds, her smile reemerged.

"But you'd never try to pull something like that... not on me? Right?" Her hand grabbed my chin, long fingers caressing one cheek. Her deep green eyes looked into me, while I looked back, seeing what I had come to expect: vivacious energy, incandescent passion, absolute certainty. For a moment though, I saw a trace of something else, hiding behind those gemstone eyes; something fleeting and fragile.

Then it was gone, and I shook my head emphatically.

"No. I'd never pull anything on you." I meant every word.

\*\*

The walk across campus to classes felt like an odyssey in itself. If I was usually overly self-aware, the combination of being dressed as a girl and having an unwelcome passenger wedged in my butt made me \*hyper\* aware, staring at every passer-by, wondering what they were thinking about me.

If I'm being honest with myself, I probably wasn't the absolute center of attention. Campus sidewalks were busy in the morning, and I would have appeared as just another female student in trendy autumn fashion, slightly underdressed for the cool weather.

But I was burning up, imagining how awkward and obvious my walk must look. I knew that every person I passed would recognize me from somewhere, must be wondering why I was dressed like that, what was wrong with me. Every girl whose eyes passed over me was judging: finding a fault in my outfit, or recognizing some hint that I didn't belong. Every man who walked by swung around when I wasn't looking, to watch me go by with scorning, hateful eyes.

And then there were the looks I definitely didn't imagine.

As I passed a construction site on the side of the road, I noticed one worker look up, then slap another on the shoulder. When I was down the street a little I turned to look behind me and the two were watching me walk away, engaged in animated conversation. They were only the most obvious— I caught more than a few other boys and men alike watch me passing by or staring at me blankly as we waited for a light to change.

I wasn't safer indoors. Waiting in line for a bottle of water, I caught the boy behind me, another student, staring down at my skirt. It panicked me for a moment, thinking something was wrong; that I had suffered a wardrobe malfunction or there was some visible evidence of the plug inside me. When I craned over my neck to look, though, I realised he was just admiring the way the skirt fell, slightly propped out by the curve of my ass, creamy white thighs and black long socks peeking out underneath. I blushed hard and turned around again, now aware of his gaze trying to see through my clothing. If only he knew.

By the time I reached my first class, I was very off-balance. Half of me was flustered and embarrassed, certain I was making a total fool of myself, desperately wanting the day to be over so I could ditch the effeminate costume. The other half was perversely exhilarated by how well things were going. It told me I wasn't just passing, I was convincing, and each new ogle was more proof of how desirable Sami was. This side loved the attention, something Sam never experienced. Having eyes follow me around was a novel experience, put me on edge as much as the plug in my rear. Beneath these outer pleasures, my darker half whispered quietly about WHY I garnered so much attention. What would those roving eyes say to me? What would they do, if they could? It added delicious, forbidden flavour to my shameful narcissism.

Even the idea of the butt plug was electrifying, not to mention the constant stimulation. It was another sexy, dirty secret. Something only for Cindy and myself, to hold back from other prying eyes.

I started to think of the plug as an extension of Cindy's will, a connection between us. In a way it was, letting her monitor and control me. The idea of her being inside me throughout the day was darkly, terribly arousing, and made it very difficult to concentrate on note-taking, as I shifted in my seat, always trying to find a more comfortable position. Worse, the fullness was insistently physically arousing, and even though my tight panties and the jumpsuit contained my little erections, they certainly didn't improve my discomfort, coming and going all morning.

I had just sat down in the second lecture of my day when Cindy upped the ante.

My first class had gone poorly, with my only managing to pay attention half the time, and actually process half of that. But for the second, I reached the classroom early, found a desk in a back corner of the room and perfected my posture to keep the plugs effect minimized: back arched, chest pushed out. I may have looked strange to some of the male students, who kept 'subtly' craning their necks around to check me out, but it worked, so I was just fiddling with my pens, trying to ignore the spectators and whiling the time away before lecture began.

I had just written down the date and began a doodle in a margin, when the plug inside me sprung to life. Cindy had a vicious sense of humor, and that fiendishness showed in how intensely she set the plug to vibrate. I was totally unprepared, even though I had spent most of the morning thinking about the plug. Nothing really readies you for that kind of sudden movement inside of you.

I yelped loudly, at first not realizing what was happening, then belatedly catching my shout with one hand. Luckily there was still movement and conversation, so most of the class didn't hear, but a few students closer by turned and gave me judgemental side-eye, and I felt the familiar heat return to my cheeks. I slid down in my chair, trying to escape scrutiny, but the base of the plug made contact with my seat, and when I thought I heard a slight buzzing, I panicked and shot back up to my alert posture. I could still feel a few eyes watching, so I focused on keeping as still and silent as possible while the plug pulsed away.

Cindy didn't make the rest of the lecture any easier. It seemed like she was constantly adjusting the settings, making sudden jumps in intensity, or slow, building attacks on my self-control. I could imagine her (between times I was solely focused on holding still) sitting somewhere and cracking herself up at my situation. She might have been reclined in bed, waiting to jolt me in the least expected way. Or maybe she was in a class as well, idly toying with the app. Whatever or however she was doing, it was effective. I was caught in limbo of forbidden pleasure— my penis unwillingly rock hard under my clothes as I desperately attempted to stifle my reactions.

That second class was mostly a loss, obviously. What notes I managed to take were so out of context they were useless, and I had been incapable of processing anything I heard to memory. I considered it a win that I hadn't embarrassed myself with any more shouted noises, though I did let out a few quiet grunts and moans that brought the odd head swinging around for a quizzical look. These looks and the feelings they prompted (the humiliation, the thrill of fear, and the shameful pride at knowing I was doing something so perverted) only spurred on my stiff arousal. What would those leering boys do, if they knew the secrets under my skirt? My imagination answered with tantalizing fantasies.

The day continued like that. Cindy was surgical with her interruptions, almost as if she was watching me, finding the times I was most off guard, when I was finally refocusing on school work or worrying about the curious gazes of other students. She never fell into a pattern for too long, and whenever I thought I had her approach mapped, knew what to expect, she would find a new variation to fuck with me. At one point she even must have been dragging the intensity up and down randomly, creating arrhythmic surges that had me squeezing and yelping.

Sustained use of butt plug wasn't just having physical effects. The erratic rumbling of the plug only made my erections more distracting and difficult to ignore. It was a miracle I was able to resist going to a bathroom and touching myself. But I had made a promise to Cindy... and I was terrified of being discovered. As if that wasn't enough, each movement pushed soft noises of surprise out my lips, and soon I found my own effeminate gasps and grunts stirring, especially when they drew more attention from those around me. That attention in turn spurred more shameful erections, and the cycle continued until I was nearly panting in heat, sure that if I lifted my skirt I would find my panties soaked with precum.

I was mid-way through my fourth and final lesson of the day when I received a text from my torturer. She had finally shut the plug off for more than five minutes, and I was taking the chance to pay as much attention as possible when my phone buzzed. I jumped exaggeratedly, first thinking it was the vibrator kicking back into life. Then I sheepishly withdrew the phone from my bag, no longer even bothering to look around, just hoping my movement hadn't been noticed. The text was short and sweet, and kicked my heart into high-gear.

Emergency 🚨🚨! 001 now!

The words said emergency, but the emoji said she was joking. I was in the middle of a class! Did she really expect me to just ditch for nothing? Now I looked around in bewilderment, as if a classmate or a wall might hold an answer. But no such luck, I was on my own. My phone buzzed again in my hands.

Now means right now! ⏩

My overtaxed brain panicked, and my head veritably spun again looking for Cindy somewhere in the classroom with me. As ridiculous as it was, I even looked at the windows, expecting to see her vulpine grin— only to realize that we were on the second floor. My frantic behavior attracted the attention of my classmates, and I blushed for what felt like the hundredth time, making a decision in a flash. Cindy was giving me an early out from this too-thrilling day, and I would be stupid not to take advantage.

It only took me a minute to gather up my belongings and scamper out, ignoring the judgemental, curious glances from classmates. I rushed across campus, eyes down, just focused on getting back as quickly as possible. I knew Cindy was just messing with me, but now a large part of me felt girly and lustful, and couldn't wait to receive more glowing compliments and feel her gentle touch. I must have made an awkward sight: trying to speed walk, maintain posture to ease the plug, and avoid looking at anyone or anything; but I didn't care. I was going to go be a slut for Cindy, inflamed beyond doubt or second-thought, ready to give up the tension and fears and become her pretty little bitch.

I was about to get more than I bargained for.

It surprised me when I didn't find Cindy waiting for me outside the building, or outside the door to 001. I hadn't given her a key, so I was mystified as to how she had gotten in the room without me. Then the obvious conclusion: Jaxx. I paused for a moment, remembering that major factor. Was he with her now? What could that mean for me?

When I thought about Jaxx previously, I felt a scorching rage, unspeakable indignation turning to resentment. But since... 'spending more time' with him, my emotions had changed sublimely. There was still heat, but now it pulsated, a hazy glow of tempting curiosity, a subtle fever of timid admiration. Even after his casual abuse, I couldn't shake the feeling of his strong hand on my neck, massaging my fears away, protecting me from cruel decision-making. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being a whore for Jaxx and Cindy again. She would protect me from him, and I could submit to them both... My tiny penis twitching signalled my surrender to that bewitching possibility.

When I entered, thoughtlessly turning the key without knocking and swinging the door wide, I wasn't ready for the sight before me.

It was almost reminiscent of my first day at college. Jaxx sat with his back to me in his swivelling desk chair. However this time there was no Aurora before him. In fact there was no Cindy either, no one but him. He was facing his computer, clicking through a gallery of images of girls in various states of naked disarray. But I barely registered the computer, or anything else about our room, focused wholly on Jaxx. He was stark naked, and I could see just the tip of the monumental erection past his strapping, hairy shoulders and defined legs. I couldn't control myself, dropping my bag and my jaw, gasping out in scandalized surprise,

"Oh my god! Jaxx!"

His head turned at my words, but he made no other movements at first. His brown hair was looking perfect, as always, and the light grin he showed me had that slight boyish turn of his lips that knocked me off guard, stole the words from my mouth. Even sitting, he towered over me with bare barrel chest, chiseled physique, and bearing that dripped with confidence.

"Woah... Sami?! Goddamn..."

There was a certain tone to his deep voice, a strange admiration that I hadn't heard before, as his eyes roamed over me. His words were halting with genuine surprise, and he seemed almost as caught off guard as I was. Those ice-like eyes scanned across me, loitering on my legs, dragging up my skirt, and finally fixed upon my face. I wavered where I stood, feeling my knees weaken at the obvious desire in his gaze. But we were alone, and I was in so much trouble. Like this, he was free to do anything he wanted. And he was already naked! I had to get out.