College Chronicles Ep. 18 Pt. 02

Jaxx was away when I returned to 001.

The old Sami would have been worried about that, for some reason. But I was angry, maybe even furious at him. With nothing to do on my walk but reflect on Nat's story, my frustration and resentment and yes a little bit of jealousy (but after the way he spoke to and treated me, you can understand why!) turned to a new, more sustainable anger than I was used to, a low burn in my stomach flaring with each slight I remembered. Perfect to keep my lesson learned about my asshole, fuckboy, rapist, jerk of a roommate.

Even with that I couldn't help but wonder... I hadn't seen or heard from Aurora in a while. What was she doing? What was he doing with her? To her? I shook my head to banish the thoughts. There was no time to worry about her. She was just a part of Jaxx. And he wasn't worth it.

His lingering presence was truly hard to shake; memories of his smirk, his touch, his voice echoing through my brain in quiet moments. I would have to be careful. I couldn't let him ruin the night. It was important I did everything right, just for me. Worry was something that plagued Sam. Sami didn't worry about anything or anyone, definitely not a boy.

So I ordered some food, and began to plan my outfit for the evening. But that didn't take long and I turned to video games to pass the time.

I was playing Breath of the Wild, and while searching online for an answer to a puzzle, I saw an ad, which lead me to a search, and got a little distracted. Turns out there's a lot of... content... about Link, Zelda, and Ganondorf. Rule 34, and all that. And in Breath of the Wild, Link wears the 'Gerudo costume' to sneak into a city of women. An androgynous, blonde character dressed up in a slutty girlish outfit?... The internet ran with it; scribbled drawings, gifs, publishable-quality hentai, even 3d models and videos that seemed to have original voice acting. And in all of them Link was getting absolutely railed. Sometimes by Zelda as a futa, sometimes by other futa characters, but mostly by Ganondorf's massive, animalistic frame, pounding away at femboy-Link with a ridiculously huge horse cock.

He had the impossibly fat dick in every one, and Link had an impossibly elastic butthole, taking thrust after thrust of absurd cartoon cock. I especially liked the ones that implied Link had lost a boss fight, was getting fucked after losing a world-deciding battle. Sometimes Zelda was bound, watching with wide eyes as Ganon's cock stretched Link's hole. Other times she participated, sucking Ganondorf's testicles or fighting over cock with Link as they gave head.

After hearing Nat's stories, and thinking about Jaxx all day... It was too much, wasn't even fair. Of course I grabbed my dildo, and some lube, and locked myself into he bathroom to fuck the shameful horniness out of myself. Embarrassingly soon, I was bent over on the floor, pushing a fake cock into my ass and alternating between imagining Ganondorf and Jaxx, plowing my foolish hero butt into submission.

I almost missed my food... Had to rush to dress, ran to the street to have an awkward, flushed interaction with an extremely judgemental deliveryman. Once I was back in my room I could breath a sign of relief and enjoy the salad I'd ordered— after I cleaned up my mess.

I ate, played some more video games, and spent a little time on my phone, cycling and scrolling endlessly through different social media feeds. Then it was time to get dressed and go.

*

I would tell you what I wore to Nat's, but it doesn't really matter. All you need to know is it was pink, and girly, and bright. And scandalously revealing, of course. I thought I looked so sexy, but that part didn't even seem to register with Nat when she opened her door. Instead, I got a reaction of dismay.

"Oh, Sami, NO!"

She pulled me inside, despite the sentiment, and her friends already in the room echoed her, not even knowing me but loudly rueing my choice in outfit. Looking at the three of them, it was obvious why.

Nat's friends (she introduced them as Gemma and Dawn) were dressed like her, in goth or alt or punky fashion. Their vibe was leather, spikes, and chains; their colors were purple streaks in hair and black everywhere else. If that was how everyone at the party would be dressed, my not-so-innocent neon-pink glow would have me sticking out like a sore thumb. That wasn't the worst thing for how I wanted the night to go, but before I could debate the virtues of my choices, Natalie was already pulling my top off, directing her friends to her closet as if they were her minions.

"You're lucky I'm a hoarder; I've got some stuff from highschool that should fit you. Gem, bottom drawer, grab some skirts. Dawn, get your bag..."

My outfit was fit for a slutty sorority rave— not our destination, and Natalie wouldn't have it.

"...This is too much! You're so basic... We've gotta start all over again."

My look was evidently just as inappropriate, and as she started in on my face with a wipe, I just cringed and bore her too-rough attention. It hurt my feelings, being called basic. But I couldn't say anything in front of her friends, who vehemently agreed.

As Nat worked, I asked questions about the girls. The three had met during Freshman meet week, through attending a rock and metal society which had been mostly composed of gross-smelling, unkempt-bearded grad students. After catching too many leering looks in the first two minutes, the three formed their own appreciation society by listening to music and smoking weed together. Since then, they'd found strength in numbers, sampling the school's alternative scene as a trio.

Gemma was a big girl; taller than average, and slightly overweight, with a curvy figure just starting to collapse to gravity at her stomach. Dawn, on the other hand, was about my height and waifishly thin, with visible shoulder bones and angular bone structure that made me wonder if it was genetics or a tragic backstory.

But I couldn't focus on them. Natalie had instructed closed eyes, and never gave me permission to re-open, leaving me clueless on her improvements until she finally seemed to finish.

When she did say the word, I opened to find a mirror in my face.

My hair, in long pigtails, was the same but for pink ties replaced by black. She had given me heavy silver eye shadow, with broad black wings at my eyes making me think of death metal singers. But as I took it in, I realized it was more metal groupie, with a surprisingly effective appeal. There was a dark sexiness to the over-the-top look: the little hearts, symmetrical under each of my eyes; the hatched stitch line that emphasized my cute little nose; the black lipstick that made my pouty lips so perfectly framed against pale white skin. To really do me up, she even added some dangly pentagram earrings and a fake nose ring.

I looked damn pretty as a little rocker-chick. I pulled a scary face and made myself giggle, enchanted by my own visage. It should have been an embarrassing moment of self-obsession, but Gemma and Dawn jumped in with compliments, openly jealous and even not-so-jokingly lusting after me.

Natalie was all business, cutting through their strokes to my ego with a command to stand and disrobe. I refused to lose the bright pink lingerie worn as underwear, so eventually Natalie agreed to compromise and loaned me a short, barely concealing black skirt with silver buckles, long white socks, and a Slayer t-shirt that barely covered down to my abs. It flattered me, showing off my taught tummy and defined chest, but I couldn't help wonder why Nat had it in her closet; it wouldn't even cover her nipples. She tried to make me wear a severe, chunky pair of lace-up boots, but that was her look not mine, and I was staunchly defensive of my neon pink high heels, even if they didn't really go with everything else.

In the mirror, the mismatches made the outfit even more slutty; especially as I tugged my thong up to show a hint of what lay beneath the skirt. Against all odds, I pulled it the fuck off. It was becoming a little less weird when I looked at my reflection and saw someone that made my heart flutter, but I don't think I'll ever get totally used to wanting to fuck myself, to finding I'd become my own teenage wet-dream.

Between it all, my new punk-princess look pulled together as Dawn and Gemma let me know enthusiastically, gawking with me, lavishing even more compliments over my shoulders and fussing over every small detail, like I was alternative-Barbie for their dress-up play. Then Dawn wanted to take picture for my Instagram, but when I showed her my profile, it wasn't in a suitable state.

"Oh, we can't put anything on here! This is all, like, soft girl bullshit... No offense..."

I didn't know enough to be offended; I had to ask them to define 'soft girl,' which evidently just meant hyper-feminine, pastel-colored, skirt and ponytail girliness. It did describe my usual look... It actually made me a little happy, privately, that they had tagged me as such. Not that I agreed with any of their other anti-mainstream opinions. I was happy to be a soft girl.

I didn't need to agree with people's taste to have a good night out though, and Dawn was right that my outfit wouldn't fit with the rest of my page. They introduced me to the idea of a 'finsta;' a 'fake-insta,' which wasn't actually fake just wasn't officially tied to me, even though I would be posting photos of myself... It didn't really make sense, but as Dawn started setting up 'DarkSami', Nat pushed a shot into my hand and we began a mini-photoshoot to populate my new feed. First just us, cheesing and pulling other faces as we did another shot together. Then all four of us, smiling, laughing and taking more shots. After my fourth shot I was a little worried about how fucked up I was going to be; I needed to stay somewhat sober, with no Cindy or Jaxx as back up. When I realized it was flavored vodka, I started pouring the next round myself. And they called me basic! I had to hide my own smirk; Cindy could have drank all three of them under the table.

Soon we were well-lubricated, well-documented, and fashionably late, so we set off.

It didn't matter that it was a week night, campus was bustling with evening traffic, and the sounds of thumping music filtered out of at least one house on every block. That meant that boys were out, and boys were drunk, with ogling eyes and in large boisterous groups. We must have hit the pre-gaming rush hour, because it seemed like every group of guys we passed meet those requirements, showering cat-calls and wolf-whistles and howled 'ay girl lemme get yo number's on us.

It didn't take long to realize that 90%, if not more, of those flirtatious, aggressive come-ons were directed to me. Some guys stared me down the whole time they passed, obviously hoping to lock eyes and excitedly punching their friends if I happened to bless them with a shy glance. Others called out; 'check out the blonde!' or similar remarks that made it clear they were ogling me among my dark-haired companions. There were even a few with big enough balls or small enough brains to approach then and there; they were vehemently rebuffed by Natalie, before they could even get a word out.

She absolutely hated it, huffing with each new example, rolling her eyes so hard I'm surprised she didn't get a headache. She was already in a mood; I don't think she liked how Dawn and Gemma had taken to me so famously. She'd been a little passive-aggressive even when giving me clothes for the night.

I couldn't blame her really, because Dawn and Gemma were getting on my nerves too. At first I'd found their flattery nice... but it was wearing at me a little, all their insipid comments and attempts at jokes and repeating of my name; 'Sami, Sami!, Hey Sami, Sami look!...' It was annoying, but more it was embarrassing, as if they were kid siblings tagging along. And the cat-calls... They kept acting like it was all aimed at them! They'd giggle and cluck to each other about who was being called at by the hotter boys, and sometimes even got offended if the boy wasn't deemed good looking enough. And it's not like I really cared about the credit— it was cat-calling, after all, a pretty pathetic thing to be jealous over. When they acted like a boy targeting me was targeting all of us, though...

But whatever. That wasn't a great look on me. And I was riding high, loving all the attention and not caring about Nat's judgement, moving past the other girls attempts to bask in my spotlight. If that was how guys on the street reacted to me, I was going to be fucking nuclear in the crowded, cramped close-quarters of a house party. I was so excited I was basically skipping, warmed by my positive vibes and own heat, despite the cold weather. I was a funny contrast next to Natalie's pissed off stomping, a detail she didn't seem to appreciate.

The house was off campus, but only by a few blocks. When we walked up to an old looking building decorated by Christmas lights and artist-quality graffiti with a crowd of crazy-haired skinny people smoking cigarettes outside, I knew it was our destination.

Natalie took the lead up the stairs onto the small and crowded porch, and suddenly we were all receiving attention. Nat and the girls were clearly regulars, getting called to and waved at, as well as a few flirty hugs that implied more than casual conversations. Of course I kept getting my own recognition... it felt like every boy out there watched me walk by. I pretended not to notice, tossed my hair, gave my prettiest laugh, and grabbed Natalie's arm to hold her hand.

Like you'd expect from the exterior, it wasn't nice inside, with fading paint and out-of-date decoration. But to my surprise the house was actually really clean, a far cry from frat houses I'd seen so far. I guess they really were an alternative. It was also packed with people, and cloudy with smoke, acrid and sweet, tobacco, marijuana, and who can say what else.

Luckily I had my hand on a guide, and Natalie pulled me through a small entry room, down a long hallway, and into a big central room that seemed to be the heart of the party. There were multiple couches on one side of the room; on the other tables, where people were playing beer pong and flip cup. Not that alternative after all.

On the far wall was a pair of long tables, with coolers and stacked boxes of unopened beer behind them, manned by a couple of tall guys who looked like they might live at the house, from their punk hair and piercings. The bar; Natalie led us there right away, catching the eye of a bleach-blond guy with spiky hair and two lip rings who recognized Nat.

"Ayy, my favorite freshman!"

She ran around the end of a table for a hug and he returned it, ignoring some other guys not-so-patiently awaiting a drink. Then they began talking, and I took another look around. There were coffee tables by the couches, and it looked like they were playing quarters. That's a game I had enjoyed, even if I wasn't good. And there were a few cute guys whom I knew had spotted me from their poorly hidden glances and emphatic gesticulations.

"Sami!!"

Nat had caught my attention wandering, and barked my name to get it back. I jumped, but as I turned I was a little annoyed. She'd been chatting, of course I'd found something to occupy myself!

"This is Dan."

Dan had a big, warm smile, and my good manners took over.

"—Oh! Hi! Nice to meet you."

He shook hands with gentle, laconic ease, his big hand dwarfing mine.

"Daaamn, Sami... Where you been?"

"Ummm... What?"

"Are you a transfer or something? How come I haven't seen you before?"

He'd started making us drinks as he spoke, so used to talking and serving that he didn't break eye contact. I considered my usual answer; 'I don't get out much', things like that. But looking like I looked, feeling like I felt... I was tired of playing lonely loser. I wanted something different.

"I don't know! Maybe you're blind!"

I gave him an impish smile, and he laughed even though it wasn't very funny, handing me a full drink.

"Maybe..."

He trailed off, still looking at me with a little smile, and I hid my own with a coy sip from the sweet drink, enjoying his obvious interest, how his eyes fought falling to my legs. He wasn't bad looking, and like the flip of a switch I saw him a new light, started sizing him up. It was my turn to scan down his thin but fit chest, his stitched and patchwork jeans. He wasn't traditionally handsome; a slightly slanted mouth, too big of a nose... But he was interesting. Unique. And he didn't seem self-conscious about it. He owned it.

There was a little pause between us; not awkward except maybe for Natalie. I spun a little on one leg, pretending to fidget but actually just giving a better look at my legs, showing off the hint of my firm ass peeking out from my skirt.

"So—"

Natalie tried to retake control when a burst of noise interrupted her. Harsh and discordant and just as quickly overcome by the wailing screech of an electric guitar solo. There was a responding din of cheers from below us, and then my hand was back in Nat's and we were surging forward, towards a staircase that led down into a basement. Everyone around us was moving too, just slower, watching us go. Watching me.

The basement was dingier than the ground floor, and in a far corner there was half a wooden wall, like a construction project had been started and forgotten. But it was hard to see much else, because it was packed, and in the other far corner was a stage raised a couple feet off the ground where a band was just starting to play.

They didn't seem like my kind of vibe, from the v-shaped instrument painted with flames one guitarist held, to the shaved-head intensity of the guy holding the mic, wearing a white wife-beater already soaking with sweat. But Natalie was shrieking her head off, pulling me deeper into the crowd as the guitar solo ended, and the vocalist raised his mic to lips.

"We are SKULLFUCKERRRRR... Let's fucking GO!"

Not a promising name. As soon as he said 'go', the band behind him kicked into action; two guitarists, a bassist and a drummer all trying to hit their instruments as hard as they could, while the singer jumped around the stage. They were really loud, and really punk— he was less a singer and more shouter. It was hard to dance to, so I mostly just held Nat's hand and jumped along with her. She at least seemed to be having fun, and when they had ripped through two unintelligibly loud songs and paused for the band to drink, she turned and tried to tell me something.

"THAT'S MY..."

Despite shouting so close to my ear, I only caught a few words, the rest caught and drowned by the crowd noises around us, the feedback and tinkering from the band on stage, and the ringing in my ears. I shouted back, confused.

"WHAT?!?"

"...MY. FRIEND. MARCUS!"

I looked at the crowd around us, but couldn't find anyone in the mix that seemed to be paying attention, as singer growled something into the mic. People around us went wild, and I was stumped.

"WHO?!?!"

For a single word, I could read her lips.

"HIM!!"

She pointed, and I followed her finger towards the stage, at the center of which was the sweat stained, shaven-headed singer. I didn't expect it, but the revelation started to put a few things into perspective.

She knew one of the bands! Maybe more than knew, based on the way she was watching him start the song, eyes nearly popping out of her head in cartoon-heart form. He was stomping around on the stage like an idiot and she was jumping up and down like a teenager seeing Taylor Swift for the first time. And he wasn't even that good looking! Thin, almost scrawny, and only average height. His face was kind of twisted, though I was willing to see him closer before passing final judgement. Even so, I sighed as Natalie threw herself into a small mosh pit that was forming.