College Chronicles Ep. 10

Then her soft hands turned me, and twin emerald bonfires peered through my eyes into my being, noting every ounce of pain and fear and desire in me.

"Sami, you're not going to like this part. But remember I know best. This has to happen." Her lithe fingers stroked my cheek, and I closed my eyes and leaned my head into her palm, savoring her touch. But she shook my head lightly, seeking my full attention. It was always hers.

"I bought it small, especially for you... but it will still make you think about your little clit trying to get hard." I was a little embarrassed by her straightforward assessment, but her smile was wry and sympathetic.

"Try to think of it as a test... If you can learn your lesson, maybe you won't ever wear this again!

Or need to..."

I barely caught the muttered words, and before I could think to ask for clarification she was sinking to her knees. I had knelt before her many times before now, but this was a first, and the sudden reversal of our natural roles stunned me. Regardless of position, she was in control, flipping up my skirt and pulling down my boy shorts to reveal my bashful genitals.

She giggled softly, and I went beet red, hoping she wouldn't look up to see. Her hands weren't full, per se, but luckily she was too busy to note my shame. Not exactly the reaction you hoped for, with a hot girl kneeling in front of you. But this wasn't exactly the situation I'd envisioned in my fantasies, either.

She reached down to take up the little cage, which to my surprise was lying on the floor beside her. As she brought it to my crotch, she finally looked up, her confident grin undermining the physical imbalance of our positions.

"Any last words?"

Taken aback by the question and trying to puzzle out her intent, I struggled to answer. "Uhm... I-... Uhm..."

"Oh my god, re-LAX Sami! I'm just fucking with you!" Her smile was appeasing, trying to mollify my endless anxiety. "I can't believe we smoked all day and you're STILL so high-strung!"

The smile turned sly, and she cocked one eyebrow, my little penis in the palm of her hand.

"You must be seriously fucked up, huh?"

In the right tone, it could have been devastating, an all out assault on my self-confidence, character, psyche. But Cindy delivered it drily; ironic, self-effacing. She was saying 'aren't we all?'

I had to make a decision on the spot.

Part of me was offended by her implication. It would have been easy to push back, to deny my brokenness with the rush of frustrated, indignant emotions I could feel clawing up my throat and out my eyes. It was tempting to channel that impotent anger and sadness into accusations: coercion, manipulation, abuse.

But I could feel my toes at the edge of a different, wilder path; acceptance. Cindy spoke no lie. Before, I'd always felt like something about me never fit. Since Cindy, I hadn't felt that once. I'd been frustrated, even terrified. But never alone.

"Just-... Stop being a bitch and do it!"

I mumbled, but with a fire that surprised even myself, meeting Cindy's emerald gaze. Her brows flew up, her mouth an 'o' of surprise-- only to disappear an instant later with an amused smile like a morning sunrise. Her eyes flickered, dancing with devious intensity.

"'Attagirl!"

Moving so surely and quickly I could barely follow, she took advantage of my surly submission. One hand slathered my penis in lube, the other threaded my little package through a ring, fitting easily around my excuse for testicles. Then she deftly fit the tiny tube over my clit, and before I knew it had fastened an equally small lock onto me.

"All done! Now tuck that away and let's go get fucked!"

Then she was at eye level, pulling me in for a passionate kiss. Her tongue took advantage of my surprised gasp, invading me. It was distracting; bewitching even. But it wasn't enough to make me forget the new sensation at my crotch.

I didn't enjoy it. Though I knew the device was light enough to float, I felt it's weight keenly, as if it were an anchor hanging from my groin, forcing my shameful secret to protrude awkwardly. Cindy had fixed it on so quickly I hadn't even been able to get hard, but now my penis had begun to stiffen at the memory of her gentle touch. When it reached the unyielding walls of the cage, I cringed and winced at the unfamiliar feeling of enforced restraint, squeezing and mildly painful.

All together, it made me far too aware of my genitals. Not that I wasn't aware of them usually. But I could pretend; sink into the girly clothing and makeup and lust of the looks people shot me. I could forget, for seconds, maybe minutes at a time, that I wasn't really the sensual, desirable girl I felt like. That I wanted to be.

As Cindy smirked at arm's length, I didn't even want to see my new adornment, pulling my panties up and flipping down my skirt hastily, never casting my eyes downward. Instead I stared at her,

"Cin, I-... I'm... Can you... is it... uhm... noticeable? I don't... I don't want people to... to know..."

"Oh, don't worry so much! You can't see anything. And no one will be ABLE to see at the club!" I wasn't totally convinced, and Cindy could tell from my dismayed expression. "If you're feeling self-conscious, you can cover up with your cape! But..." I nervously turned the thin fabric of my cape through my fingers as I hung on her words. "If you REALLY don't want anyone to notice, you need to distract them!"

She smirked again, and I wiggled a little as I whined, confused and uncomfortable,

"Wha-... How... Distract... how?"

She giggled, and I couldn't help but feel like the butt of the joke. Eagle-eyed, she saw my wince of offense and rushed to the rescue. She always knew what I needed to hear.

"Just have fun! If you actually TALK to people instead of being a wallflower, no one will notice! I knoww you get so anxious... but we're gonna get so fucked up we won't know who we are!" She rolled her eyes back for a moment, pantomiming drunken stupor. "Say stupid shit, embarrass yourself, go full 'woo!' girl! No one gives a FUCK how you act if you look like this." She gestured to illustrate her point, first down herself, then up my ensemble.

I was overwhelmed.

Physical sensations bombarded my composure: the tightness of my top and panties, the insistent pressure of the butt plug, the unrelenting confinement of my cage. Her cage.

Her inexorable arguments battered my emotional walls: loosen up, chill out, give in. She wasn't wrong-- we made a fine pair, cut from the pages of a risque, adult comic book reboot. A lingering haze of pot smoke slowed my mind, making thinking like walking through a thick fog; a blind, groping, aimless struggle.

And a dull undercurrent ran through it all. An intriguing, haunting, dark presence to match the holiday. Jaxx. He would be there, the center of everything, in all his infuriating, terrorizing glory. A shiver ran down my neck at the thought of those cold grey eyes.

Cindy took advantage of my silence, grabbing a hand and yanking me towards the bathroom door.

"Come on! I think I heard Jaxx get here!"

I wasn't ready, but Cindy's pull was relentless. Looking back, I can't blame her. I don't think I ever would have left that bathroom if she left it up to me.

As she flung the door open and whisked me into the main room, I saw that Jaxx was back. And he had brought company. If Cindy hadn't still been holding my hand as she shouted, I might have run back into the bathroom.

"Be honest boys, what do you think?"

Jax was on the couch, beer in hand. He hadn't put on his costume yet, instead wearing a tight-fitting black t and dark jeans. The dreaded smirk was already blooming as he turned to Cindy's voice, spreading wider while his eyes swept across us, scanning from bottom to top. I couldn't bear to meet his lecherous gaze, and my eyes slid over to the second man.

He was standing at the fridge, just straightening to his full, imposing height and closing the door. Unlike Jaxx, he was already wearing his costume (at least I assumed); black suit pants and jacket over a pristine white formal shirt and tie, dress shoes snow white to match. I thought I recognized his intention, but shook the thought away before it could settle: too niche, too deep. And far too nerdy, for someone that looked like that.

It wasn't just his height that was imposing; it was everything. He was only a little shorter than Jaxx, but he might have been even more shredded. His muscles shifted dangerously under the tight fitted clothes, and as he crossed the room to us it felt like watching a panther's dangerous pacing. Even in the full suit, you could tell he was defined all over; I got the impression that he was unfamiliar with the concept of body fat.

He stopped before us and stood for a moment, appraising. His scalp was shaved clean, and lights of the room reflected in his dark, smooth dome. Even his jaw and face were muscled, with a broad chin and affable expression of curiosity as his light brown eyes took us in. I was nearly blinded when a joyful smile split his lips, teeth white as the shirt.

"Looking FINE shawty!" He leaned in to hug Cindy as she laughed at his exclamation, swatting away a hand that had roamed down under her hanging shirt to cup an ass cheek.

"Jaelen! Cut it out!" Her girlish giggle and coy wiggling in his arms belied the message of her words, but he listened nonetheless, letting go and turning to me. I gulped, already dreading a night with two Jaxxes.

"So who's this little piece?" He was staring straight at me, but the question was for Cindy. Then he cut to the chase, his smile turning sly, "What's your secret identity, Supergirl?"

"Uhmm--"

"Jaelen, this is Sami. She's a freshie too, but she's shy and little, so you better be nice to her!" Cindy adopted a firm tone to lecture him, then softened as she turned to me. "Sami this is Jaelen, he's on the football team with Jaxx. Don't worry; his bark is worse than his bite."

As if on cue, Jaelen stuck his head up in the air to bark twice, deep and gruff, and howl before mock-mauling Cindy, burying his face into her neck as she squealed and batted at him.

I couldn't help but laugh with them as I watched their play fighting. Jaelen had a similar presence as Jaxx, so physical as to extend beyond, a mental and spiritual dominance of his surroundings. But while Jaxx's was jagged and volatile, Jaelen seemed more smooth and steady, exuding a calm, friendly manner that set me at ease when he greeted me.

"Hi Sami, call me Jae." He towered over me as he shook my hand politely, lithe fingers disappearing amid his thick digits. His palms were calloused and rough, but when he squeezed it was somehow soft and comforting. I stood for a moment in awe before I managed a response.

"Uhm... Hi..."

Cindy saved me with a change of focus.

"Jaxx! Go put your costume on, then we can start getting super-fucked up!" She shot me a look that told me she found herself way too funny, and I rolled my eyes at the joke.

"Yeah you lazy fuck, go get changed, or we'll have to get started without you." Jaelen hadn't moved his eyes off me, and now winked broadly, as if we shared some secret the others didn't know about. Jaxx couldn't take the insult lying down, and responded in kind.

"Shut the fuck up... Least I got a costume. The fuck are you supposed to be anyway?"

"Bro, I'm your archenemy!"

"I KNEW it!" As soon as the words left my lips, I was already blushing. My blurted exultation had drawn all of their attention, and I was more bashful than before, fixed by amused smiles. But I had been right about Jaelen's costume, and I deserved to brag. "Y-you... You're Lex Luthor, right?"

"Oh Samiiii," Cindy mockingly wailed, mourning for me. "That's the skinny white guy from that Facebook movie."

"No, she's right," There was a hint of admiration in Jaelen's eyes as he explained. "An old animated show had a black Lex Luthor, before they tried the gritty reboot shit. How did you know that?"

"I... I..." I tried to answer but felt stuck. What could I say? 'I spent a whole summer watching 90's/00's animation because I didn't have any friends'? Not in this outfit, with this crowd. "I used to watch it..." The obvious answer fell lame, and Jaelen flashed me a curious look, but let the moment pass.

Jaxx finally heaved himself up from the couch, following instructions but unable to resist a parting shot.

"Alright alright... Want to come help me suit up, sidekick?" His leer was predatory, and I still couldn't meet his eyes as a shiver rolled down my back. He didn't wait for a response, and I didn't have one.

"Shots? We've got vodka or rum." Jaelen had produced a bottle in each hand, striding towards a table where shot glasses were arrayed. Cindy walked after him, insulted by the question.

"Uhh, excuse me? Vodka, obviously."

The excitement of meeting Jaelen and seeing Jaxx (or being seen) had eclipsed my other concerns, but in their relative absence it all came rushing back. Standing there in barely anything, I was as turned on by my own outfit as I was the subtle pressure of the plug in my rear. It was worse with the boys' prying eyes, and looking at Cindy's scandalous costume. Yet the cage was unrelenting. I had thought I'd known strain with my pathetic nub inside tight panties. This was like nothing else I'd ever experienced, just pure frustration in a physical sensation of tensing without release.

Suddenly self conscious, I whirled my cape around so it partially covered my front, holding it so I hoped it wouldn't look too awkward. Then I thought better and slid towards the couch, where I could sit down and close my legs.

Before I hit the seat, Cindy was next to me, pushing a shot glass into my hands and raising it to my lips.

"To the best night ever! Woooo!"

Jaelen was on my other side, and I was draining the shot along with them, gasping against the burning in my throat as they slammed their glasses down and did a second each.

As I recovered, they began to banter. It flowed quick and smooth between them, a rhythm I struggled to match. Most of my contribution to the conversation was laughter to punctuate their jibes about Jaxx, me, and each other. They had an easy chemistry, and I was happy to play third wheel. But Cindy wouldn't forget about me, making sure I was going shot-for-shot, eventually.

She had just forced me to down a second when Jaxx burst out of the bathroom, and I was left sputtering even worse than the before.

He looked every bit the part. The only differences were the lighter shade hair and the grey eyes that had their own heat vision as they fixed on me across the room. The spandex costume clung to his broad chest, and for a second, standing with hand on hips, I could almost see his cape flapping in a stirring wind. I wasn't sure if the butterflies in my stomach were from the alcohol or him.

In a dash and leap befitting his appearance, he effortlessly cleared the couch and landed next to Cindy, swiping a shot from her hand a knocking it back like it was water.

Jaxx was the life of the party wherever he went, and with him back in the fold we grew louder and more boisterous. I could feel the warmth in my stomach clouding the feelings of discomfort from my groin, and I was able to occasionally almost forget it. My buzz also made me forget about my awkward shyness, and I found myself starting to chip in to conversation. Jaxx ignored my shaky jokes and murmured agreements (as always), but Jaelen would acknowledge me, and Cindy shot me encouraging smiles.

At one point, Cindy and Jaxx became entangled in a heated discussion; the type between old friends, that started a long time ago and never really ends. Sidelined, I was watching Jaxx wave his arms emphatically when Jaelen nudged me with his elbow.

"So Sami... How come I've never seen you around campus?"

"I... uhmm..." I wasn't prepared for the question. I had certainly seen him around, hanging out with Jaxx on the quad or eating food. How much could I say, without making more trouble for myself?

"I'm not very... exciting... and you might have. Uhm, seen me. I don't usually dress like--... this..." I gestured to my outfit, cheeks burning as I skirted the truth. "I'm not... not very... I blend in..."

My eyes had sunk as I'd explained, inspecting an imaginary scuff on my cherry boots. But Jaelen's laugh, booming and unconstrained, brought them back up.

"That's bullshit." There was a firmness to his proclamation, precluding disagreement, but with a playful humor that took the edge off. "You seem pretty exciting to me. Though that costume might have something to do with it." He flashed me a brilliant smile, but all I could do was weakly mimic it back.

"All I'm saying... Wear more like that, and you might get seen more, *Sami.*"

I froze, heart in my throat. He had put extra emphasis on my name, loading it with knowing inflection. Did he know my secret? I wouldn't put it past Jaxx or Cindy telling him. But if so, why was he being so nice? I must have paused for a full five seconds, mental gears turning visibly as I tried to decide what to do. Jaelen stepped in to save me from my confusion, changing the subject to a topic closer to my heart.

"Anyway, what does someone who looks like you know about comics?"

Grasping at the out he provided, I pushed the worries from my brain and found myself almost offended by his attack on my cred. Soon we were as deep in conversation as Cindy and Jaxx, talking 'Red Son' and 'The Killing Joke.' His knowledge only made me more curious about Jaelen. There were layers to him, and they didn't seem so deeply hidden.

That was a mystery for later, since two loud raps sounded from the door, interrupting our separate conversations. When Jaxx lazily got up without question, I instinctively knew who it was. My heart was thumping in my chest, and as he swung the door open I cringed, a strange fear that sobered me enough to remember how out of place and uncomfortable I was.

Aurora stood for a moment, a shockingly gorgeous silhouette, her eyes sweeping across the room. Then she stalked in, one haughty hand in the center of Jaxx's broad chest, forcing him to back-pedal.

"Alright bitches, two shots and let's get the FUCK outta here!"

She had a modern Harley outfit on, right off the set of Suicide Squad. White and black sneaker-heels, ripped fishnet stockings, blue denim 'shorts' that were closer to panties, a tight 'Daddy's 'lil Monster' t-shirt, and very small red and blue jacket. Her face was unnaturally pale, and she had recreated small heart tattoos on each cheek. Golden locks were tied up into two messy pigtails, though she hadn't dyed for the role. Her accessories were replete with punk-studs: bracelets, anklets, choker. The convincing wardrobe and her natural, stunning beauty made her more than a match for any A-list starlet.

Those sky blue eyes slid over me, then snapped back in a double take at something out of place. She squinted... then it clicked. Her mouth widened to a smirk, and I felt my stomach fall.

I hadn't seen her since the encounter in that bathroom, with Jaxx. It was only a week and change ago, but it felt like months. Once upon a time Aurora was my crush, hallowed in naive eyes. Now I didn't know what she was: crush, bully, role model, idol? Her gaze had me ready to panic, expecting callous cruelty. But Aurora would never be so obvious.

"Oh my god! Hi Sami! I've been waiting SO long to meet you!" Her exaggerated enthusiasm was as cutting as any insult, like she hadn't known me (or at least been vaguely aware of my existence) for years.

Then her smile faded, replaced by thoughtfulness. She put one hand on her chin and judged me.

"You know, I think I like this version of you... A LOT more..."

She flashed a bright smile at me, but I didn't see. The broaching of my secret, even in front of four people who all knew, was unbearable. I could only stare at the floor to hide my crimson cheeks, imagining how they all watched me.