Dilated Depths: Luke's Journey

"Oh, Jesus, Jackie!" Rebecca exclaimed, clearly coming to my defense.

"No, wait! I swear this is a good thing, at least I think," Jackie defended herself. "He asked me, and I'm so sorry for not saying anything sooner, if I'd be willing to get a mold of Jeff's dick."

Sam gasped and looked over at me, clearly concerned about how I was taking this.

"I told him I had no idea how to do that. He told me to wait in the kitchen and he'd be back."

I suddenly remembered that day when Luke took a while to bring back our water. Now it all clicked. A rush of anger and confusion hit me, but I didn't know what to say.

"He came back with this box. Inside it was a kit for making a mold of a guy's dick. I told him I'd see what I could do. And, of course, Jeff was only too willing to help with something like this."

I looked down.

"Kaili, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"So, hold on," Sam cut in. "That extension is based on Jeff?"

"Yes," Jackie confirmed.

"Yes," I echoed. "That's why it felt so amazing."

The girls were still chatting away, but my mind was already miles away. I felt like I was stuck in some weird time warp. Finally, I just needed some alone time, and I made my way back to my room.

My brain was working at a million miles per hour. How could Luke have put Jackie in such a position? How could she have agreed? And Jeff, participating in such a bizarre request? Although knowing Jeff, he was never one to shy away from something quirky or outrageous. But the biggest question was, why hadn't I figured it out sooner? There was something weirdly familiar about the toy Luke had gifted me, but it never crossed my mind that it was modelled on something I'd already experienced.

I was just lying on my bed, replaying all the weird and crazy things that had happened in the last couple of months when my phone buzzed.

It was a text from Luke. "Hey, Kai, just letting you know I got home safe. Can't wait to see you again. You free tonight?"

A mix of anger and confusion flooded me. I tapped out a reply almost instantly, "What do you want me to do tonight? Or should I ask who?"

Send.

Crap.

There was no taking that back.

I watched those annoying little dots, indicating he was typing a reply. Then they stopped. Nothing.

I waited for a minute. Still nothing. No reply. No typing.

Nothing.

In a fit of frustration, I threw my phone onto the bed and stormed off to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror above the sink. "What the actual fuck is going on?!?!" I shouted at my reflection.

"That's it," I said to myself. "I need sleep."

I quickly stripped off my clothes, put on my comfiest sweats, and slid under the covers.

I was so exhausted from the roller coaster ride of a weekend that I passed out almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

When I finally woke up, I found myself bombarded with missed calls, voicemails, and an avalanche of text messages. All of them from Luke.

"Kai, what's going on?"

"Please pick up."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"I'm sorry if I upset you."

"Are you okay?"

"I think I understand what you meant now. Please call me."

"It's about Friday, isn't it?"

"I've tried calling. Please call me back."

"We need to talk this out. Please call me."

"Left you a voicemail."

"I'll try to call you again in the morning."

The voicemails were mostly Luke sounding confused and worried, asking if he had done something to upset me, and urging me to call him back.

Still somewhat groggy, I decided to cut through the confusion.

"Luke," I texted back, "I had a chat with Jackie. She told me everything."

My phone started ringing almost immediately. It was Luke.

"Hello," I answered, keeping my tone flat and distant.

"Hey, Kai, can we talk?"

"I have about five minutes before I have to leave for class."

"Okay. Can I just dive right into it?"

"Go ahead," I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice, "it's interesting how you're asking for my consent before doing something now."

"I know, I know. I should have talked to you before I went ahead with my plan."

"You mean the plan to get my friend to make a mold of her boyfriend's dick?"

"Yes, exactly that. I should have talked to you first. I thought..."

"You thought what?" I interjected. "What did you think, Luke?"

He sighed. "Honestly, Kaili, I had been considering getting some kind of sex toy since we first started dating a couple of months ago. I was unsure about what to get, or what style you might prefer."

"So you decided on Jackie's boyfriend?"

"Well, when I asked Jackie who she thought you had the best sex with in college, she didn't hesitate to say his name."

His honesty and the consistency of his story with Jackie's took me by surprise. At least they were telling me the same story. That was a small relief.

"Okay, go on..." I urged him to continue.

"I took a chance. I bought the mold for myself, as a little keepsake for you while I was away. But then it struck me: what if I could get Jackie to make a mold of Jeff for me? When she agreed, I thought it would make a unique gift for you. After all, she told me that you were more into his size than mine, which hurt but I thought it might be true."

"I don't feel that way!" I protested.

"I know, I know. But I thought that given my experience and my desire to please you, I could use it better than him. Jackie told me he was quite rough and relied heavily on his size. I've never been like that, so I thought with the help of his, well, size sheathed over mine, I might be able to really blow your mind."

His honesty was startling. It showed he was genuinely trying to think about my pleasure, even if his methods were certainly unorthodox.

"Luke, I wish we had discussed this beforehand," I sighed, "I would have been honest with you, like you've been with me now. But now, Jackie knows I've been... well, using a copy of her boyfriend's penis for my pleasure. And Jeff probably knows too. God, who else could they have told?"

"I understand," he admitted, "I should have talked it over with you first. I was so caught up in the idea of surprising you, I didn't think it through."

I paused, taking in his words, weighing them against my feelings.

"Kaili?"

"I'm here, Luke. I want you to know that I forgive you. I see that your intentions were good. You just... went a bit overboard. I need to get ready for class now. Can we talk more later?"

"When?"

"Tonight. I plan to stay in."

"Can I call you at 8?"

"That sounds good. Talk to you then, Luke."

I made my way to class, completely engrossed in a lecture that was curiously riveting, though the details slipped my mind afterwards. Upon returning to my room, the whispers about Luke and his 'talent' had stirred a provocative curiosity within me.

Upon stepping into my room, I shed my clothes, drawn towards the bathroom mirror. Over recent years, I'd fostered a habit of affirmative self-dialogue, but it was only lately that I'd begun this practice in my nudity.

I stood, my arms resting by my sides, my eyes slowly appreciating my body. My lightened locks, a memoir of leisurely afternoons lounging on the quad. Next, my eyes met my own in the mirror, the azure depth evoking memories of my idyllic Big Island upbringing. Down to my chin, its slight dimple lending an intriguing distinction from the ordinary.

Then, my gaze traced down to my breasts. As I've confided before, my left breast, with its unique shape and downwards-pointing nipple, was once a source of insecurity. But Luke's tender reassurances had reframed it as an enticing quirk, a testament to my individuality and strength.

Continuing this intimate visual exploration, I appreciated the soft curve of my belly and FUPA - invitingly plush, not a hint of flab or hardness. As my eyes reached the mirror's lower edge, I noted the light stubble beginning to dot my bikini line. Straining onto my tiptoes for a better perspective, my arms extended upwards, my left breast slightly flattened, and my FUPA subtly tightened, allowing me to glimpse my sparingly grown pubic hair. But it was the delicate stubble under my arms that arrested my attention.

With a step back from the mirror, I kept my arm raised, my fingers delicately tracing the underarm stubble. Its prickly texture, rough against my fingertips, stirred an unexpected sensation. The alternation between the slightly scratchy backside and the softer, more sensitive underside of my fingers kept me entranced. The intimate exploration evoked a twinge of arousal deep within my lower belly, an unignorable stirring.

Curiosity piqued, I found myself wondering if the texture of my pubic hair mirrored that of my underarm stubble. As I lowered my left arm, my breast returned to its usual, relaxed position, the nipple naturally directed towards the floor. I guided my hand downwards, exploring the edge of my bikini line where hair met unblemished skin. The sensation was distinct - my pubic hair was more robust, stiffer, and given enough time, would achieve a fuller thickness.

In that moment, I made a personal vow: I would allow both my underarm and pubic hair to flourish naturally, unconcerned with societal norms or expectations. I would embrace my body in its most authentic form.

My curiosity, now a fervor, stirred deeper desires. With my body slightly prickly from my recent decision to let nature run its course, I found myself intrigued about how self-stimulation would feel.

I started drifting towards my bed, planning to slide beneath the cozy warmth of the sheets. But then, a sudden thought paused my steps. A truth I confessed to the empty room, "I've never really indulged in porn before."

Reversing my course, I moved back to my desk and woke my laptop from its sleep. As it hummed back to life, I murmured to myself, "What should I look for?" The array of categories was overwhelming - woman with woman, man with woman, man with man, even an enigmatic 'BBC'.

Once the loading icon disappeared, I fired up an incognito tab and typed 'porn for women'. The first result seemed promising, so I clicked. The page that loaded was a montage of thumbnail images featuring men with improbable dimensions, women gazing at them with wide-eyed awe. Although these images didn't echo my preferences, curiosity compelled me to click on one of the videos.

On-screen, a woman was enthusiastically undressing her partner. His imposing size, once unveiled, provoked in her a look of shock intertwined with raw desire. She grasped him with both hands, descending upon him with a level of dedication that bordered on professional.

This wasn't what I was seeking, but it sparked a revelation within me.

Back to the search bar, I keyed in "Small Penis" and hit enter. A fresh set of videos appeared, one with a suggestive title, "Small Penis Sex with Blonde".

I thought, "This might just be it."

Feeling a powerful sense of anticipation, I primed myself for the imminent journey of self-exploration. Spitting into my hand, I slicked my middle three fingers and started to tenderly stroke my entrance, even though I was already slick with arousal.

I pressed play on the video. It kicked off with a close-up of a man's organ which, while labeled 'small', was indeed larger than Luke's. The man lay on his back, the camera granting a view from between his legs. His testicles were compact and taut, much like Luke's, his arousal standing firm and pointing towards the sky. A woman then entered the frame, gracefully lowering herself onto him. Much like with Luke, his entrance was smooth, requiring no assistance. But unlike Luke, his pace was swift and frenzied, culminating in a climax within barely a minute. During those sixty seconds, I fervently rubbed my clit. As he reached his crescendo, a considerable amount of semen glazed his organ while he continued to thrust. The volume was truly surprising. As his pleasure spiked, mine mirrored it, a powerful orgasm swept through me. The thought of Luke, smaller than this man categorized as 'small', with tinier testicles and lesser ejaculate, intensified my pleasure. My muscles relaxed, my body writhing in ecstasy, and my fingers slipped easily inside me.

Alone in my room, the only limit was my own willingness to explore, to push past the boundaries of our shared experiences. A question fluttered in my heart: Could I find more within me, more pleasure in my own touch, more depth in my own capacity to feel?

Emboldened, I started to move my fingers, guided by the memory of Luke but determined to venture further. Tentatively at first, then more boldly, I let one finger after another slide deeper, three from each hand. A new sensation bloomed within me, the feeling of being stretched wide in a way I'd never dared before.

My fingers, now three from each hand already plunged deep, started a rhythmic dance, imitating Luke's signature figure-eight movement, swirling inside myself before shifting to gentle circular motions. My intention was to push my limits, to stretch myself in a way I'd never explored before.

I slowly started to part my inner folds. First, just a hair's breadth, then a full centimeter. After allowing myself a moment's rest, my fingers still buried deep, I applied a gentle pull again. This time, it was a whole inch, followed by another brief pause. I continued this pattern, each pull and pause bringing me closer to my goal. I took a deep breath and with all my courage, gave one final tug. The breath I'd drawn was forced out as my hands stretched my folds apart, my body reacting to the intense pressure. The cool brush of my own breath hit the base of both my hands - a term I remembered from my anatomy class, 'thenar' - and wafted towards my parted entrance. It was an invigorating sensation.

Inhaling once more, I readied myself for another gentle pull. This time, the stretch was more distinct. I held it there, counting out loud to ten, the internal pressure building.

I then slowly withdrew my fingers. The sensation of my widened self was unfamiliar yet intriguing. A curiosity sparked within me, wondering just how far I could stretch myself.

I snatched a hand mirror from my desk, arranging it to give myself a clear view of my intimate area. I took a moment to observe my bare, natural self. Glistening and mildly stretched, an interplay of soft pink, deep red, and a hint of brown was visible, framed by short tufts of hair. This was my body, raw and primal. It was a sight that evoked a sense of awe within me.

Maintaining the mirror's position, I returned to my earlier method. I positioned both hands within me, readied myself, took a deep breath, and began to draw my inner walls apart. My reflection was the witness as my entrance expanded, the darkness within slowly giving way to light. The sight of my own expansive interior prompted a smile. Bolstered, I continued to spread my opening even wider.

With my legs spread as wide as possible, I formed a fist with my right hand and cautiously inserted it into my already accommodating hollow. Despite my hand's small size, its addition significantly expanded my dilated void. I removed my left hand, leaving only my right fist resting inside. With unwavering resolve, I committed to hold this position for a full sixty seconds. One entire minute with the largest object that had ever filled me.

As I initiated the countdown, my mind wandered to Luke. A soft smile graced my lips as I pictured him delicately positioning his diminutive member within me. Not thrusting, merely placing. Like gently laying it down on the lower ridge of my capacious interior. His smallness dwarfed by my expansiveness. Imagining him thrusting into what must feel like an infinite space, only to release his modest emission deep within me, stirred a powerful emotion in me.

To my surprise, I realized I was on the brink of another climax.

Was I about to reach another peak?

Indeed, I was!

The sheer idea of Luke's futile thrusts within my expanded self was enough to trigger another powerful wave of pleasure.

Once the convulsions had subsided, I carefully withdrew my fist, picked up my phone, and dialed Luke's number.

"Luke. No, nothing is wrong. I need you here now," I instructed firmly. "No room for debate. I need you here right now."

Luke was only an hour away in his apartment when my urgent call reached him. Fifty minutes later, he stood at my doorstep, his expression a cocktail of anxiety and trepidation.

Since hanging up the call with him, I'd been consistently stretching and expanding myself, pushing my body to its utmost limits. The forgotten softball bat tucked away in the corner of my room became a tool, lubricated with the remnants of the lube from Luke's last visit. I was determined to widen myself, hence inserted the thicker end of the bat.

Before his arrival, I had messaged the front desk attendant, instructing her to let Luke up as soon as he got there. When he finally stepped into my room after a gentle knock, I withdrew my hands from the gaping expanse between my legs. Laid out on my bed, legs splayed wide, I presented my engorged anatomy towards the room's entrance. With my head comfortably nested on a pillow, Luke was greeted with nothing but the sight of my dilated self. I wanted him to witness my moistened and unusually wide vagina, its rich red and brown shades encircled by pink folds and stubbly hair. Above them, my perfectly round right breast pointed upwards, while my left breast, slightly slumping, rested in my soon-to-be-hairy armpit. I wanted him to understand that I was so expansive he could be lost inside me, and that his entry would barely be noticeable. To ensure this, I had previously run an experiment to see what would happen if I simply let go. For about two minutes, the opening held a diameter of roughly an inch and a half.

"What's happening?" Luke questioned, his voice wavering with confusion.

"Take me," was my sharp response.

"Are you alright?" Concern saturated his voice.

"Take me," I repeated.

"Kaili..."

"Luke," I cut him off, making my desire for him and his petite manhood clear.

Without any further hesitation, Luke stripped down to his nudity, revealing his small, yet fully erect member. The sight of it was fascinating. Unlike larger phalluses, it did not sway or bobble when he set it free from his pants. Instead, it aimed straight ahead, uninfluenced by gravity's pull. The thin layer of hair surrounding its base glistened with the sweat gathered during his nerve-wracking journey to my sorority house. I hadn't really noticed the sparsity of his pubic hair, especially compared to my soon-to-be lush bush. His tiny testicles had retracted into his body, rendering his scrotum nearly invisible. Knowing he was the smallest I'd ever had, and the only one I wished to ever have, filled me with delight.

He entered me. The sensation was almost non-existent, precisely what I wanted.

As he moved in a steady rhythm, completely retreating with each thrust, I couldn't help but laugh.

After a minute of his vigorous efforts and my uncontrollable giggling, I asked him to, "Hold on."

Reaching down, I resumed my earlier task, expanding myself further than before, the exertion evident in my straining arms and shoulders.

With a grimace from the stretching, I grunted, "Take me."

Luke sprung into action. His hips collided with my hands, but I felt nothing else. He repeated the action. And again. His enthusiastic plunging into the void was both absurd and entertaining.

His moans and grunts echoed around the room until, just as I had envisioned, he released his barely perceptible load deep within my cavernous depths. After his three minor squirts had delicately and briefly filled my spacious entrance, he withdrew and slumped into my desk chair, utterly spent.

Still in my stretched position, I slowly slid to the edge of the bed and stood. Each droplet of his semen trickled onto the floor, ejected simply by gravity. There was no need for me to make any effort.