Hypersexual Life: College Pt. 01

This is not a traditional story, but a series of scenes of various length sharing a common setting--a small college in a world revolving around sex. Future installments in this series may return to this college for additional scenes, or branch out to show off different facets of the world, including incestuous family life, the professional world, pornography, pop culutre, dating, etc. If you like what you read here, please leave any and all feedback about what you liked or what you would like to see in the future!

This series depicts unrealistic human bodies, including futas and hyper sizes ranging from the oversized to the downright cartoonish.

This series contains taboo elements that some may find upsetting, potentially including but (not limited to) casual sex, free use, various sexualities and gender pairings, mentions or depictions of incest, polyamory and open relationships, and age gaps, with all characters involved being 18+. Reader discretion is advised.

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In a world where 51% of men, women, and futas become hyper around age 18+, society is completely restructured by their sexual and practical needs. In addition to oversized sexual endowments, hypers also have increased libido, fertility, virility, and semen output (in the case of males and futas), and thus their presence warps society. And beyond even that, the presence of hypers in the worldwide gene pool has caused humanity at large to have much larger endowments than the people of our world, even for non-hyper people.

The taboos of open relationships, queerness, polyamory, casual and public sex, nudity, and masturbation, legal age gaps, and even incest and inbreeding -- the risks of which are rendered nonexistent by the quality of hyper reproductive materials -- have never once been part of this society. The world at large is indifferent to the taboo nature of all things sexual; all forms of sex are as casual an act as hugging or shaking hands. To people of our world, this society bears more resemblance to porn and erotica than our own lives.

Since most people usually only begin to grow to hyper-size around the age of 18, the institution of higher education has adapted to cater to this period of growth and sexuality that students are going through. College is valued equally as a place of book learning and education as it is a place for students to learn and master the ins-and-outs of their hyper sizes, sex drives, and constant casual sex.

The Midwest University for Sexual Excellence, or MUSE, is one of these colleges--a small, private school with only only ~2,500 students nestled away in midwestern suburbia...

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"Alright, good morning everyone! My name is Nicky, and I'm gonna be your orientation leader for the week." It was the first day of Welcome Week at MUSE, and a gaggle of twenty-or-so first-year students gathered into a small classroom in the basement of their dorm building. Standing at the front of the room was the aforementioned Nicky, a third-year student working for the Student Orientation Staff, a crew of student workers dedicated to welcoming assigned groups of freshmen to campus over the course of Welcome Week.

Her students for the week all sat shyly at their desks, while she bounced lightly on her toes, full of energy. A cool yellow-gold polo shirt, the school's flag color, clung to her upper body tightly, doing little to hide her shapely form and a pair of wobbling tits eclipsing the rest of her torso. Similarly, a pair of incredibly unstylish knee-length khaki shorts barely contained a bulge in her pants the size of an industrial gas cylinder.

Nicky clicks her tongue, purveying the two-dozen eighteen-year-olds thrust into her care, each one visibly excited by her appearance -- she had her makeup done, her mid-back length black hair brushed and conditioned -- but too nervous to ogle her directly. "I see we're all still a little anxious here," she says, "so before we go over the Welcome Week schedule for the day, how about some introductions? I'll start again--my name is Nicky Holsten, I'm a third-year erotic literature major from Columbus, Ohio, and these are my tits." The last clause was said with as much casual what-have-you as the preceding bits of the sentence, and was punctuated by her untucking her polo and pulling it up above her bust. Revealing her to be braless underneath, the swift and simple act of letting her tits hang free brought the whole room to attention, the students sitting straight up at their desks and laser-focusing their gazes on her.

Nicky smiled to herself. "That did the trick. How about a little icebreaker? We'll go around and introduce ourselves--you name, prospective major, and where you're from, and then go ahead and show off your proudest asset!" She let that wash over the class for a second before adding: "And ooh, if you want, why not let us know something you like to do with it? So, like--these are my tits, and I love getting titty creampies. Sound good?" In response, a classful of excited freshmen nods eagerly, many of them shifting in their seats as cocks stiffened or pussies dampened.

Nicky smiles contently, and points out a boy in the front corner of the room--slim, cute, twinkish, a soft and shaven face decorated by large circular glasses and a head of curly, combed hair, a gentle appearance juxtaposed to he rumbling beast of a bulge buried under his jeans. "Oh, me first, um." He stammers over his words as he stands up, struggling to unzip. "My name is Alex Morgan, I'm from Ames, Iowa, and I want to be a computer science major, and this is--" A satisfying THUMP fills the room as he hoists a four-foot beast of a member out of his pants and drops it onto his desk for presenting before he continues," --this is my cock. And I like to..." He looks to Nicky, as if trying to find some suggestion for his answer, only to see her smiling and clapping excitedly. "I like to cuddle it in bed. It's really warm."

Nicky claps for Alex, and sits back down. "Thank you, Alex! And next up..."

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Merrick had been riled up all day. First thing in the morning, he overslept his alarm by nearly thirty minutes, and had to book it to his first class of the day without having time to treat his morning wood, and his dick had been more or less half-still and desperate all day since. If he was anyone else at this school it wouldn't have been a problem--he would've just whipped it out in class and worked through it there. But it was still his first week here, and being a non-hyper guy he was still a little too nervous for it. Sure, when a curvy futa packing a foot-and-a-half of babedick does it, nobody minds--but Merrick was a meager eight inches hard, and still found the prospect of revealing himself like that to be embarrassing.

Now done with his classes for the day, he found himself still too occupied to go back to his dorm and take care of himself; his rumbling stomach drew him to the dining hall at the center of campus, where he sat alone at a table for two hungrily making his way through a sandwich. But still, his untreated wood, now ignored for about four hours, pitched an embarrassing tent in his shorts. He scooted himself under the table, trying to hide it.

"Hey, Merrick, right?" His attention was called to a group of two girls walking past him, taking empty plates to the dish return. The one who spoke, he recognized; a blonde girl with a French braid and who dressed athletically, a crop top revealing a nice set of abs and yoga shorts getting devoured by her oversized ass. She was accompanied by a redhead girl in similar garb, but with a soft bulge protruding from her own shorts. "Darcy Trails. We have Bio 110 together?"

Merrick nodded, quickly and haphazardly putting his sandwich down on his plate and responding through a mouthful of chewed food. The sight of Darcy's well-maintained abdomen and huge, firm ass made his dick twitch in rebellion against his shorts. "Yeah! With Dr. Buckley. You changed?" He references her clothes, not matching what she had worn to class two hours previous.

"Yeah, I did--this is my friend Leslie, we were about to go work out. During class you seemed really on edge," she says, changing topic effortlessly, "and now I see you're, like, really hard?"

Merrick nearly spits out his food.

"Can I see it?" She passes her empty plate to Leslie, who chuckles to herself. "Your bulge has a really nice shape. I was watching from the other side of the hall," she says, gesturing to a now-empty booth where her and Leslie's bags still rest, "and was hoping you'd, like, whip it out for a bit."

"But you're just sitting there, hard and lonely," Leslie adds, a bit more of a demeaning tone in her voice.

Merrick instinctively moves a hand over the bulge in his shorts, half covering it and half gripping it. "Uh, yeah. Focused on eating, I guess. I was late getting up today. Probably gonna... jerk off when I get back to my dorm." He avoids eye contact, instead finding himself accidentally fixating on Darcy's underboob.

"Oh, boo," Darcy says. "Lez, take the plates. Leave this to me." Leslie gives another snide laugh and walks off, and Merrick turns to watch her walk away. He opens his mouth to question the situation, but Darcy quiets him with a hand on the shoulder. "Dude, just let me blow you, okay?"

This shuts him up, briefly. "Oh. Oh, okay, yeah, yes. Yes." He fumbles through words, but the moment she has consent Darcy is pulling his chair back from his table and getting on all fours, crawling between his legs. As Darcy strips him of his whole shorts and his desperate cock finally finds freedom, everything clicks into place in Merrick's mind--in that moment he sees MUSE, and his new adult life, as what it is.

He suddenly becomes aware of sights and sounds in the dining hall he'd hitherto be avoiding addressing: a girl a few tables over drinking a glass of straight cum; a pair of futas, their plates empty, jerking off together in a booth while the sounds of porn bled from one of their phones; a hyper guy, completely bottomless, using his beanbag-sized balls in place of a chair and his wide, stiff cock jutting in front of him in place of a table, his plate of food resting on it; and, to his comfort, a group of non-hyper guys seated around a table, their seven-to-ten inch normal dicks all out without shame or embarrassment in the presence of the mammoth-cocked guy using himself as furniture, and a girl underneath their table whose hands and mouth moved quickly from rod to rod.

Snapping back from his daze, the next thing he realized was that he was cumming into the back of Darcy's through, hard.

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Dr. Pamela Dawson knew how to make a first impression. A hyperfuta with 55 years of experience on this Earth, she knew how to draw attention and to keep it. This made her the perfect mathematics professor, she thought; a subject that most first-year students cared little for, saw as no more than a general education requirement to tick off a checklist, and yet she found ways to keep students interested and grades up. Even in a class as initially-written off by her students as boring as Calculus I, she knows how to work her magic.

It was Monday of the fourth week of classes; the previous Friday, she had given out her 10:00AM Calc I class's first mini-exam. It was 9:58AM now, and she was just finding her way into her classroom, a stack of graded papers in her hand. Her entrance quieted the room, her thirty-odd first years (from a mix of majors and programs, all needing their math credit) reformatting their attention towards her. It was due to a mix of feelings, she could tell--many of them were simply attracted to her, overwhelmingly, but many were nervous of their coming test scores.

She smiles at the class, and rests the stack of tests on her podium. She surveys the room: many of them are zipping their pants back up and scrambling back into their seats, but a few are not yet finished. In the front of the room a blonde girl continues to enthusiastically ride the cock of a nudist boy, and in the back a futa lovingly slurps on her own two-foot, thigh-thick rod. One seat is still empty--Jason Henderson, perennially late.

"Well, class," Pamela starts, standing at her lectern, "happy Monday." The room falls silent, save for the sound of the remaining instance skin-on-skin and Beverly Moore's loud, wet autofellatio. "I've graded your tests, here," she continues, motioning to the stack in front of her. "But before I give them back, can anyone remind me of the bet I made at the beginning of this course?"

There is no immediate response, but eyes remain on her, drinking her up. Who can blame them? Dr. Dawson is a bombshell, and she dresses such--a six foot tall woman, imposing in height as equally as she is in width. Her "thiccness," the kids call it, is awe-inspiring, huge soft thighs and a chair-crushing rear end characterizing her feminine figure, and the shape of her hyper cock beneath her pants was the cherry on top. She dressed in a pair of ultra-stretchy, form-hugging black leggings that contained her entire lower half, her four-foot softie and beachball-sized nuts forming a comical bulge that was only barely an inch away from dragging on the floor beneath her. Up top, a professional white blouse and back blazer, tight but clung over a less impressive rack of tits.

A boy in the front row, knee-length cock hanging out of his shorts and dripping up a storm, spoke first. "You said if the average grade on any test was over ninety percent, you'd..."

"Teach naked for a week!" An excited girl in the back shouted the rest of the answer, practically bouncing in her seat.

Pamela smiled. "That's exactly it. Thank you, David, Lucy." The room fell completely quiet, now, even the riding and self-sucking stopping as the class waited in excitement for Dr. Dawson's follow up. "Apparently," she started, opening the top button of her blouse, "that little promise did a hell of a lot to encourage you all!"

A quiet gasp moved across the room, each student joining the soft choir of excitement. Dr. Dawson laughed to herself, her hands quickly making work of the rest of her blouse buttons before untucking it from her bulge-hugging leggings. In a sultry but casual motion, she rolled her shoulders back and shrugged off her blouse and blazer at once, taking both garments and folding them neatly before dropping them to the ground next to her; underneath, she was, of course, braless. This was not the first time she'd shown her boobs to this class of students, but the reveal of her impressive G-cups nonetheless drew a few gasps and moans from the crowd of students. They were the one bit of her that wasn't hyper, but they still got the job done.

"I take it by now you all know where this is going." Pamela hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her HyperFit™ leggings and began the struggle of peeling them off her lower body. "The grades on this stack of papers in front of me," she continues, interrupting herself with an awkward grunt as she struggles to get her leggings down past her wobbling bulge, "average out to an exact ninety percent."

The students, of course, had already intuited as much, but the final statement of it as fact quickly turned their silence into cheers. Elation washed over the students of Dr. Dawson's 10AM Calc 1 class, in equal parts thanks to the satisfying average test score and Dr. Dawson's slow strip. Students high-fived and chatted, relieved, the stress of test score day entirely mitigated. And then, all at once, they became silenced again as a now-naked Dr. Dawson clears her throat.

All eyes lock on her again, her colossal package out in the open, as she calmly finishes stepping out of her leggings. "That feels much better," she says, running a hand over her fat, veiny milfdick; now free of it's stretchy-fabric prison, its full four-foot flaccid length flops into the open, and her fittingly massive balls starting to churn and expand slightly as soon as the compression factor of her leggings is no longer part of the equation.

"You better get used to ogling this fat slab," Pamela laughs, holding the underside of the base of her rod with one hand. She turns around a few times, allowing the class to eat up her full figure; she hears a number of zippers come undone. "Now, I imagine seeing me up here like this might make it a little difficult to get focused, so here's my compromise--let's put today's lesson on hold for about ten minutes. I'll hand back the tests, and you can all get your attraction to me out of your system so you can enjoy the view properly."

No one protests this. Pamela takes the thirty-or-less graded exams and begins to make a round about the room, moving from student to student and placing their graded tests in front of them. It's a little difficult to maneuver as such with her huge junk jutting out in front of her, balls sloshing all over the place, but she manages it deftly. As she stops at each student's seat, she finds many of them masturbating or engaging sexually with their desk neighbor, blowing each other or jerking each other off. Most of them are wordless when she approaches, staring at her body and practically drooling to themselves as they check her out. Over the course of the first few minutes of this, the scent of spunk mixes into the air in the classroom as a few boys and futas fire off a load all over themselves. Pamela smiles happily to herself all the while, overjoyed that her students are fans of her body--she'd like a few of them to grow the balls to look and touch, but she can only speed along the comfort levels of freshmen so quickly.

"Sorry I'm late!" There he is: Jason Henderson, right on time, five minutes late every day. He's a cute, short boy, barely 5'5" and with a slim frame, pale skin, and blonde hair he lets grow a little long. He enters as hurriedly as he ever does, his pants barely on him. He's wearing a loose pair of shorts, opened at the crotch; he has a non-hyper cock hanging out -- soft, dripping, and about seven inches in length -- but backed up by an insane set of hyper balls, each one nearly the size of his own head. He's carrying them in his hands, cradling them in his palms. "I was getting--oh my god."

His jaw drops as he takes in the view, Dr. Dawson turning around to greet him. She doesn't know it, but he's obsessed with her, and upon seeing her full-frontal in her full glory, his reaction is immediate and impressive: his bloated balls contract in his hands as soon as she smiles at him, and his cock goes from a flaccid seven inches to a stiff eleven in a matter of seconds. What follows is a near-instant orgasm, eight quick shots of warm cum firing across the room and colliding with Pamela. The first one hits high, splashing against her chin, and each successive one finds a lower target--two find their way to her bust, two to her belly, and the last three hit her right on the cock. She laughs heartily, the other students in the room reacting with a mixture of shock and entertainment, a mix of gasps and snickers.

"Oh, fuck! I'm so sorry!" Jason, horrified but admittedly turned on, attempts to step back and re-aim is dick away from his calc professor before he can shoot any more rope onto her. He grabs himself and, panicking, decides to point downwards instead of forwards and in doing so succeeds in spilling his next four and final shots of jizz into a puddle on the ground below him. His attention is diverted from his shame a moment later when he feels something warm approaching him, and he looks back up to find Dr. Dawson and her mammoth package standing right in front of him. Overcome by his attraction to her, his dick leaks one final rope off jizz onto the floor.