tagSci-Fi & FantasyOdd Man at the Girls School Ch. 01-02

Odd Man at the Girls School Ch. 01-02

bySirkelgyrko©

Eighteen year old Ashley Thompkins had been awake, and hard, for 45 minutes. Achingly, throbbingly hard. But he was still pretending to be asleep. Because his teacher, and roommate, Miss Lewis, was doing yoga in her underwear again and Ashley was afraid she would stop if she knew he was watching. And as hard and aching as his cock was, he loved watching Miss Lewis do yoga in her panties. Ashley's problem, one of his many problems, was that he desperately wanted to jackoff. Or at least press himself into the bed. But he needed to be on his back to see and a beating fist would surely give away the game. So instead he lay in bed, feigning sleep, an obvious tent in his comforter, while his beautiful, sexy, double-d, tiny waisted, round assed, porn-comes-to-life vision of a 23 year old teacher vinyasa-ed the hell out her yoga mat in a little blue thong, and a b-cup cotton bra.

As Miss Lewis did a back bend and her pussy lips separated to essentially eat her thong, Ashley pinched one of his increasingly sensitive nipples. Over the last three weeks, his formerly small and typical of the genre-useless man nips, had tripled in size, the areola spreading to half-dollar size or more and the nipple itself becoming puffy and wide. The flesh under the nipple had also rounded out slightly into what Ashley had so-far successfully denied was a clearly breast-like shape. The nipples, when pinched, tugged, or otherwise manually stimulated, sent cascading waves of pleasure to his brain in a way formerly reserved for his hard cock. This morning, his surreptitious nipple-rubbing seemed to actually stimulate his cock, and even more so, his as yet unexplored 18-year-old anus. If Ashley had not been so thoroughly distracted by Miss Lewis's enormous breasts positively gushing from their wholly inadequate confinement as she bent forward at the waist to palm the floor, he likely would have found the new sensations disconcerting.

Instead, he simply pinched harder as Miss Lewis went to her knees and arched herself forward with her round ass in the air, mashing and twisting his newly grown titties to the vision of sexual subservience on the floor in front of his bed. The feelings radiating from Ashley's abused virgin titties built and built, consuming any remaining conscious thought. Ashley never even noticed he was on the verge of cumming until it was far too late to hold back the sperm pouring forth from his aching, still never touched cock. Ashley's eyes went wide. That had never happened before. He was so shocked and dazed that he had not even thought to stifle his orgasmic groan. That tectonic sound of release shook Miss Lewis from her morning meditation, and the young buxom teacher sprang from her mat to Ashley's bedside, concern evident on her face.

"Ashley, are you alright?" the buxom vision asked as she bent over his obviously-no-longer sleeping form. Ashley mumbled something about a nightmare.

"Oh, you poor boy," Miss Lewis cooed as she ran her fingers through Ashley's long black hair. "I know you didn't sleep well last night, I heard you tossing and turning over here." He'd been masturbating.

"Don't be nervous," Miss Lewis said and she bent over Ashley, hugging him to her nearly bare breasts. He had not yet gotten up the gall to ask her why her bras were all so small, but they meant much of her tit flesh was always naked. Ashley relished in the warm musky plenty, as Miss Lewis concluded, "You're going to do great at the DuMare Arts Conservatory for Girls."

***

Chapter 2

Ashley was an incredibly flute player in high school. He desperately wanted to play professionally and he knew that attending a conservatory for college was necessary to accomplish that goal. He had applied to all the best conservatories around the country. He'd heard from several of his fellow flutists, who of course were mostly girls, that DuMare was the very best when it came to making contacts with orchestras. DuMare had dropped the "for Girls" from its name, if not from its requirements several years before. The school's name had come to speak for itself. Ashley didn't bother himself with the literature, besides perhaps noticing that the pictures featured a lot of cute girls, he'd just applied.

Miss Lewis had reviewed his application and seen Ashley's name. She'd thought nothing of the fact that he was a boy scout or that he played baseball in high school. Girls did those things, right? Miss Lewis had also reviewed his video and had seen a thin, pale kid with beautiful skin and long black hair, playing the shit out of the flute. It had never occurred to her that it was a boy. Even though he was in a tuxedo and had a reasonably deep voice. Why would a boy apply to DuMare? Miss Lewis had been so entranced by Ashley's flute playing that she had chosen Ashley as her automatic. Each of the teachers were allowed to choose one applicant where no one else need even review the file, that student was their automatic entrant and the teacher was their mentor for usually her time at DuMare. Which meant no one else had a chance to catch the clues, subtle and not so, that Ashley really did not belong at DuMare. When Ashley got the acceptance, he was thrilled. He couldn't understand why his friends thought he was joking when he told them. After a while they just nodded yes and figured the joke was how he was coping with not getting in anywhere. Ashley just thought they were being bitches. None of them had gotten in to such a prestigious conservatory.

Ashley's parents were wealthy and distant and frankly just thrilled to have the mopey kid out of the house. They'd just paid and paid and paid for the privilege of not having to worry about their kid and being able to tell themselves they were aiding his dreams. Neither even really knew where the school was, just that Ashley was going, and getting full room and board and wouldn't be back till Christmas or later. Ashley had been unpopular and unnoticed in high school, had spent many weekend nights practicing his music, and was never able to find anyone who truly understood him. He was sure that everything was going to be different at DuMare. Music and arts all the time. Cute girls who loved music and arts, and he presumed, loved boys who were good at such things (rather than huge jocky football players). The chance to learn from some of the best professional musicians in the world. He was finally going to get to be himself and be comfortable with it.

DuMare was located in Alabama on a beautiful island estate in the Gulf of Mexico. It is a collection of stately old mansions and modern theater and practice spaces, surrounded by beautiful beaches, old willow groves, and the Gulf. An old bridge leads to a small town on a neighboring island and Mobile is an hour north. Ashley was in love before he had even parked his car. Lust as well, as there were gorgeous girls in packs roaming around the campus, and judging by the bevy of bikinis, heading to and from the beaches. There was so much to stare at that Ashley did not even realize that he hadn't seen a single other dude.

Candace Lewis, known as Candy to friends and foes alike, was so excited to meet her first mentee. Miss Lewis had been hired by DuMare as a dance teacher during the previous school year and this would be her first year as a full faculty member. The school encouraged interdisciplinary Arts learning and mentoring and as a result "automatics" could only be exercised outside one's field. And Ashley was Candy's first. Candy knew she was the teacher and Ashley was the student but Candy was only like five years older and totally young at heart. They were going to be like sisters!

Candy had been trying to sit in her office and patiently wait for Ashley but after ten minutes of fidgeting at her desk, had unconsciously risen and begun stretching, despite wearing somewhat professional attire. Truth be told Candy was entirely new to the whole grown up clothes idea. She hadn't noticed the stares she had been getting from the other faculty, but her skirt was incredibly short and flouncy for professional attire, such that even walking up the stairs to her office, Candy's ample tight ass, split only by a tiny thong, was on full display. Her blouse, far too tight and sheer for usual professional mores, meant the dark raspberry colored nipples topping her enormous breasts were entirely on display, uncovered by her desperately undermatched pink b-cup bra.

Candy worked her way through her stretching routine, never noticing that she had a visitor standing in the door of her office. The visitor, Dean Rebecca McHough, had arrived to speak with her newest teacher about professional attire, but when she saw Candy stretching in her office, she decided to observe the extent of its inappropriateness. When Candy lay on her back on the floor of her office and pulled each leg back to her chest to stretch her hamstrings, the dean noted that Candy's skirt and panties left an unobstructed view of her bright pink pussy. Dean McHough inappropriately thought about mashing and rubbing her subordinate's delicate pussy with her own big juicy pink pussy lips. When Candy sat on the floor and arched her back, Dean McHough noted that her blouse and bra left her large dark nipples entirely on display. Dean McHough inappropriately thought about licking and sucking those nipples until they were long and distended before biting and pinching them until Candy screamed. When Candy stood and bent at the waist to palm the floor, Dean McHough noted that her clothes were entirely incapable of hiding her large toned ass cheeks in all their curvy glory.

The Dean inappropriately considered licking the young teacher's puckered little asshole until it was slick enough to shove her whole tongue inside. By the time Candy straightened and began doing neck roles, Ms. McHough felt that her full body flush was sufficient evidence to confirm that Candy was dressed inappropriately. However, as Candy spread her legs and slowly eased herself to the floor, Dean McHough decided to take the time while Candy practiced her splits to consider just how inappropriate Miss Lewis' attire made her feel. Dean McHough violently squeezed one of her hard nipples as Candy slowly spread her legs and lowered her ass and pussy to the floor of her office. The dean slid a hand down her skirt and found her panties sopping and probably ruined as Candy twisted from side to side in full splits. Dean McHough stroked her erect clit as Candy bent at the waist and pressed her entire body to the floor. Mouth open, panting, vision blurred, Dean McHough withdrew her slippery hand from her skirt and nodded to herself. She definitely needed to have a talk with Miss Candy Lewis.

Candy's high from the euphoric completion of her stretching routine was interrupted by what she initially thought was the growl of a very hungry animal in her office door. Startled by the sound, Candy opened her eyes. Seeing her superior, Candy was struck by how fully Dean McHough filled her office door. The older woman was both tall and built, with muscles that Candy's lean dancer's body could never match. Candy was also struck by the intense emotion contorting her Dean's face. What did I do now? Candy thought to herself.

"Miss Lewis, what on Earth are you wearing," the dean began, "is that a horny professor Halloween costume?"

Candy blushed. She had thought she was dressed so professionally. Not waiting for Candy's response, and enjoying her blush, the Dean continued, "you look like a contestant on frat boy night at the Bare Hare. Didn't your mother teach you how to dress? In what dirty porn shop did you get the idea that it was appropriate for a professor at the most prestigious girls conservatory in the country to show up for the first day of school, orientation, with half her ass hanging out of her skirt. Did you just come from a casting for Miss Wobbly Tits Blows Mobile?"

Candy was nearly reduced to a puddle by Dean McHough's verbal assault. Her knees were shaking and she was close to hyperventilating as her eyes brimmed with tears. She had tried so hard to dress professionally. Candy tried to explain. Tried to tell the Dean that she had spent hours in the store before finally calling her uncle, who was a lawyer in Chicago and very professional, who had flown down and helped her pick out the perfect professor wardrobe. But when she tried to defend herself, tried to look Dean McHough in the eye and defend herself, Candy could not even speak the dean's name before her lower lip started to quiver and a sob escaped her throat. Stricken by the disappointment she saw on her dean's face, Candy lowered her gaze to her feet and blubbered softly.

"Now, now," the Dean said after a moment of Candy's mewling, "none of that." Dean McHough stepped into the office and enveloped Candy with her embrace. Candy was so grateful for the woman's powerful arms crushing her that she began to openly sob.

"That's a good girl, the Dean whispered in Candy's ear, "you didn't know that you were dressed like a whore. You didn't realize that you looked like you were so desperate for a hard cock that you were hanging out a sign. You are just so young, inexperienced and untutored that you accidentally dressed like a silly little slut. That's ok. Dean McHough can help. Pull yourself together. Dry your pretty eyes and let's go look in this mirror."

Candy felt so relieved. And she felt safe and warm in this much larger woman's embrace. She was desperate to learn.

Her office had a coat closet which opened to feature a full length mirror. When the Dean released her, Candy wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her blouse and stepped to the mirror. Dean McHough stepped behind her, close enough that Candy could feel the other woman pressed into her back along her entire length, the dean's leg was even slightly entwined with her own. The Dean was bent forward, her steady breaths tickling Candy's ear.

Dean McHough waited until Candy met her eyes in the mirror. Then she reached around Candy's shoulder, pinning her arm to her side, never breaking eye contact as her fingers made light whispering passes over the blouse resting on the nipple of Candy's right breast.

"Sweetheart," the Dean purred in Candy's ear. "This blouse is for trailer trash. I can see you have big, firm, come-on-me tits. I can see you have enormous nipples. These are not secrets an upstanding professional shares with the world." Dean McHough continued to just barely brush back and forth round and round on the nipple just covered by the sheer blouse. Candy felt hot shame course through her body as the nipple hardened and elongated, seeming to reach for her superior's touch.

"So, not only a slut in dress, Candace Lewis? Maybe you did know how you were dressing? Know I would have to talk to you. Do you yearn for an older woman's touch? Are you not desperate for cock so much as to be my doll, to play with as I will?"

A sobbing moan escaped Candy as her nipples were now both long and sensitive and Candy could swear that her boss's relentless teasing began to feel like it was on her clit. "No, no" Candy pleaded as her body betrayed her for the dean's touch, "Please teach me how to dress pretty," Candy finally choked out.

But as Candy stared down, the Dean continued her teasing ministrations. The lightness of her touch was mirrored by delicious pain in Candy's still lengthening nipples. The Dean now had both hands around the smaller woman, stroking the nipples on both of Candy's tits with light, intermittent strokes, coaxing them longer and longer. "Look," she breathed in Candy's ear, "look what your whore blouse puts on display." Candy stared at her long hard nipples, felt the dean's teasing spread from her nipples to her chest and finally came together as a hot wet pressure in her cunt. Candy couldn't believe what was happening and the dean just kept teasing and teasing and Candy was moaning louder and longer until she met the dean's eyes in the mirror and begged, "please." With that the dean grabbed both nipples and twisted hard, grinning in the mirror as the younger woman shattered into a million pieces. Her pussy gushed and seared, the back of her head throbbed and spun, her throat felt dry and gasping, her nipples burned and yearned, her breath went thick and then was gone, and her vision went white and then black.

When Candy swam back to consciousness she was enveloped by the dean's powerful arms and thighs. She was sitting in her boss's lap on the floor, head on the older woman's firm breasts, still facing the mirror. The dean was holding her tight and smiling at her in the mirror. "Ready to learn more, babyslut?" Candy cuddled into the dean and nodded.

The dean's large hands traced paths from her bare knees all the way up her bare thighs to where her tiny slip of underwear was clearly on display. Candy's skin tingled and she shivered as the Dean whispered throatily in her ear, "No professor who respected herself would ever show this much skin. No professor who was not hoping to pull a train after work at the Lucky Gas and Gulp would ever wear this skirt. Only a cheap little slut whose pussy was so wet and needy it dulled her mind would wear such a tiny pair of panties under such a barely existent skirt. I bet that your panties are so thoroughly soaked that I could stick my finger through them like tissue paper. What do you think, my darling little bitty-whore?"

Dean McHough's fingers were lightly tracing Candy's thighs from knee to puss and Candy, without conscious thought was thrusting her achy little cunt forward to try to touch one of those big solid hands, providing the dean very satisfying proof of her point. McHough prepared to test her tissue paper theory, and then fingerbang the adorable little slut into a second round of unconsciousness, when there was a very loud knock at the door. Candy was way too far gone to answer on her own and frankly they both looked like they'd been fucking, but Dean McHough summoned her authority, straightened her own clothes (the babyslut was hopeless) and stood and walked them both to the door, which she opened and was confronted with a skinny, long-haired student who in a very masculine and thus nearly unfathomable voice said, "umm, excuse me, I'm looking for Miss Lewis, I'm Ashley Thompkins."

This one is going to explore themes of transformation, femme dominance, bimboism, and more! Feedback appreciated.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous05/07/17

WOW

please write more

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by Anonymous05/07/17

swing...

and a miss.

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