University Transformation Ch. 02

University Transformation is an X-rated story following 19 year-old Brit, Samuel, on a new and unexpected chapter of his life; a chapter which will define him forever.

Like similar stories in the genre, University Transformation contains depictions of sex, humiliation, blackmail, non-consent/reluctance and forced feminisation. Reader discretion is advised.

***

Chapter Two

Samuel returns home to enjoy himself, and his mother. After rejection in class, a new addiction takes hold.

***

His knees were still wobbling as Samuel finally opened his eyes. His cock continued to twitch in his hand as the last few droplets of cum splashed on the plush carpet below. His panties were tucked firmly under his balls and into his ass. 'Oh my God.' He thought breathlessly. He was still trying to catch his breath as his chest heaved in and out. 'That was amazing.' He couldn't remember having a more intense orgasm.

He didn't know what had come over him: the sudden erection as he entered his room; the intense desire to rub his cock; the tempting sight of his male body in female underwear; and his carelessness to let his seed spray all over the carpet, knowing that it would probably stain and potentially be seen by his mother. He'd never felt these feelings before and he didn't know what it meant. All he knew for certain was that his twitching cock had loved it.

"Sammie, do you want me to come in?" His mother asked, tapping on the door. "We can talk in your room if you prefer?"

'Oh fuck!' He panicked. 'She can't see me like this!' He was still wearing just his hoodie and panties - his mother couldn't find him looking like this!

Turning to face the closed bedroom door he shouted out to her: "No, no! It's fine, I'm coming down now. Just getting into my pyjamas." It was a lie. He hadn't worn pyjamas in years, but it was all he could think of saying to her to keep her from coming in and seeing him.

His mouth kept talking as he raced over to his chest of drawers and starting digging around for pyjamas. The words were as much a surprise to him as they were to her: "I thought we could have a film and snack night on the sofa? I just want to wear something comfortable".

"Oh...OK. Well sure, we can do that. Come downstairs when you're ready. I'll start cooking some food for us, baby."

"Great! Yep - will do." He quickly responded as he whipped off the panties and instinctively stuffed them under his mattress; the last thing he wanted was his mother to discover them in his chest of drawers when she was putting away his laundry.

Once they were safely tucked away where he knew she would never look, Samuel quickly scrambled into his pyjamas. He hadn't worn them in years, but they still fitted fine, even if they did look a little worn.

He was just about to leave his bedroom when the white gloopy streaks he'd deposited on the carpet caught his attention. 'Hmm. What if mum sees them?' He asked himself.

He was usually careful to cum into a tissue, but lost in the moment as he was, Samuel had just wanted to let his balls empty. Giving the noticeable streaks a quick inspection, he could tell they were already seeping into the fabric of the carpet. 'Shit! It may leave a permanent mark!'

Looking around his bedroom, he couldn't find anything useful to mop up his cum up with. 'I'm just going to have to leave it. I can keep mum out of my bedroom tonight, then I'll just have to see what I can do about it in the morning. Hopefully it won't stain too badly...'

There was also a second problem. He'd wiped his hand on his smooth abdomen to get what cum had landed on it off. It had now dried up on his body and he began to smell the unmistakable scent of cum on himself and was worried his mother would notice.

'I'm going to have to go downstairs smelling of cum.' He knew he didn't have any alternative. 'She wants to hear about my day. I don't have time for a shower!'

It already looked strange that Samuel had run straight to his room when he returned home and he had already been in there far longer than it took to change clothes. 'She's going to know something's happening if I don't go down now.'

Smelling slightly of his own semen was a risk he would just have to take.

***

Stacey was busy slicing chicken breasts in the kitchen when her son walked in: the smell of hot sauce and fresh vegetables greeting him as he entered. Noticing he had finally arrived downstairs she turned to him and smiled.

"Hey mum! How was your day? What did you get up to? Everything go OK? Food smells great!" Samuel said in an attempt to act casual, but coming across like an excited puppy. At least he didn't seem nervous or guilty.

"Love the pyjamas, sweetie. Not seen them in years!" She said, waving the kitchen knife around to punctuate each word, before going on to ask: "Which answer do you want first?" She laughed and pulled a mock-confused face in response to her son's barrage of questions upon entry.

"Oh, sorry! I'm just excited, you know. First-day-at-uni-energy and all that." He made a mental note to calm down and start acting like a sane person.

"Well...work was good. Everything went fine...not that there was anything to go wrong. And yes, chicken fajitas; I thought we could have something tasty and fun to celebrate my little Sammie's first day of university!" She said merrily.

Samuel's mum was rarely ever in a bad mood; she was a self-professed positive person. She worked at - and was the proud owner of - a beauty clinic in town. It was the sort of place where women could spend hundreds of pounds and all day getting their eyebrows shaped and having their nails manicured. They could indulge in massages or receive full body waxes to remove hair that would otherwise ruin a swimsuit. Clients could have their make-up professionally applied for a special occasion. Or if they wanted something a little longer lasting: have their lips injected with filler for a plumper, more luscious, look. It was one-stop-shop for the image-conscious; and Samuel's mother was the architect.

It was fair to say she was something of a walking advertisement for the full range of her offerings. Her blonde hair had a healthy shine. Her nails were always well-shaped and had a glossy finish (this week's colour was baby pink with a white horizontal stripe at the tip). Her eyebrows were arched a little more than all his friends' mums and her lips, which she would probably deny if you asked her (just like the breast implants she had treated herself to when her husband divorced) had been injected for a slightly fuller look than most other women would be comfortable going for.

Of course, like any good son, Samuel loved her. And yes, he was proud of what she had achieved both as a single mum and as a business woman. But over recent years, he had started to feel different about her. They had started to drift apart. She typically worked longer hours in the week and had occasionally started going into the clinic on weekends. Samuel had also started spend increasingly more time inside his bedroom playing video games. He was better connected to his virtual friends than he was with those in reality.

But it was more than just them spending less time together. As the prospect of securing a place at a respectable university drew closer over the years, and as Samuel's aspirations grew with it, he had started to notice he felt a little embarrassed by his mother. It was the way she was incessantly 'true to herself'. It was so unlike Samuel; who actively prayed to be literally someone else. Fair enough, he supposed that his mother was content with who she was, but because of the slight body enhancements she had made over the years, her British nanny-type accent made her seem less like Mary Poppins and more like some east-end of London hair dresser.

'I bet Miss Brighton would call her a Chav.' He found himself thinking as Stacey twirled around the kitchen tossing peppers and meat into a sizzling frying pan. 'Thankfully, I suppose they'll never have to meet at a parents' night. I wouldn't want mum starting an argument back or letting Miss Brighton know that 'She don't need no degree...she's got street smarts and business sense, love!'

Samuel watched his mother as he took a seat at the table and told her that he was glad that she'd had (yet another) positive day.

"But less about me. I want to hear about you. Tell me everything about your day." She said bending over to get tortilla wraps out from underneath the grill. "I want to hear everything, all the details!"

'Yeah, that's not happening!' He laughed to himself realising that he could tell her about 10 percent of his day truthfully, with the remaining 90 percent having to be made up to account for all the drink-spilling, panty-stealing, wardrobe-malfunctioning and bedroom-wanking that he had done. Thinking for a moment about about what he could honestly tell her, he then mumbled out an evasive: "Umm, it was good."

Stacey turned around, still bending over, to mouth the word "and" to instruct her son to keep talking. She knew he had a habit of being shy and untalkative, even in front of her, and knew to push him sometimes to get him to talk. He'd been looking forward to starting university for the best part of three years now - it was pretty much all they had talked about. She wasn't going to let him off the hook with such a meagre response now they day and arrived.

"It was good. Sort of...interesting, really. Definitely an experience I won't forget." That last part was especially true. "We didn't actually learn anything. We just had various lectures on what to expect there and how we should use our time. I suppose it was just the boring admin they need to tell all First Years."

"Oh." She replied, genuinely a little disappointed that it wasn't like in one of the cheesy American movies she loved watching. "Well, did you meet anyone? Make any friends? You must have met some people at least?"

She was always trying to get him to make friends. Unlike her, his phone wasn't vibrating with messages every minute and she didn't understand why. Samuel could tell she was perplexed by his decision to do most of his social interactions through a screen in his bedroom and not in-person. It was a topic of conversation mother and son had a few times: why doesn't Samuel go outside and meet someone? He would always respond with some comment about how he did have friends, they were just 'online friends' and that that's how people interact nowadays, and that he didn't see how loitering in a shopping centre or in a park would help him expand his social group. The two would fail to see other's point of view, and the conversation would be left unresolved, waiting to emerge again a few weeks later. At least being well versed in handling the conversation without it ending up in doors being slammed shut, Samuel knew what to say in order to best navigate the topic.

"Yes, I did actually". He lied. "There were a couple of people: a few boys and some girls. I reckon I'll have a few classes with them; so should get to know them a bit better."

"Ohhh 'some girls' how exciting!" She said, genuinely pleased, as she plated up the food and carried it over to Samuel at the dining table. "What were they like? Were they pretty?"

"Oh - what?" He replied, blushing. Nothing made him more embarrassed or nervous than real-life pretty girls. His mind would always just blank and he wouldn't know what to say or how to say it.

"Were they pretty?" She repeated. "It's OK you can tell me. I just want to know what they are like, that's all. You don't have to be embarrassed!"

"I...guess so. Some were...I suppose." His memory flashed back to the red head: the angelic looking rocker who'd been watching him. He chose to blank out why she'd been watching him or what she said to him in the corridor after their lecture and instead just focus on how pretty she looked in her skirt and leotard and how it felt when she was looking over at him.

"Anyone in particular..?" She asked, smiling before she bit into a wrap.

"Why do you want to know? He replied, feeling increasingly nervous from the butterflies in his stomach.

"I just want to know, Sammie. I just think it's interesting to know what you think about the girls in your class. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"And I've already said, haven't I?" He replied, trying not to sound angry or confrontational. She always asked him about girls and it annoyed him. He knew that her friends' sons and daughters were bringing home partners years ago - something he had never done. He suspected that his mum thought about why he had never bought a girl home before quite often; perhaps thinking that he was asexual and was just attracted to his TV or pot plants or something.

Not wanting an argument to break out. He took a breath and calmly explained: 'I think some are nice, yes. I didn't really get the chance to speak to them, that's all. I should get to know lots of people soon. And I will tell you all about it. I promise.

"OK. Thank you, Sammie." She replied with a smile.

He was pleased that he had avoided an argument and that she genuinely did look happy at the prospect of him meeting (and then talking to her about) girls. To secure her happiness for the evening, and convince her that he really did want to meet people and wouldn't be spend his days humping brick walls as she suspected, he added: "I really am looking forward to my time there, mum. I mean it. I think it's going to be really good for me."

"That's wonderful, honey. I'm super proud of you." She said as she leaned over the table to give him a kiss. He sat and watched as her tits nearly knocked over a drink (a near-miss she was oblivious to) as she moved in closer. Leaving a faint lipstick kiss on his face, she withdrew and wrinkled her nose, then asking: "Did they make you do sports today?"

"Sports? No. Why?" He replied, confused by her question.

"Hmm...bit awkward, babe. But I didn't know if I could smell sweat or...something else on you?"

"Something else? What do you mean something..." He cut himself off mid-sentence. His face turned white and he squirmed in his seat. 'Shit! She can smell my cum! Oh fuck. Does she know it's cum or is she trying to work out what the smell is?'

'She definitely knows what cum smells like! Look at her, a woman like her has swallowed buckets of it!'

Samuel needed to say something fast! The room had gone silent and his mother had raised an eyebrow. She was expecting him to say something.

"Ahh...no we didn't do any sports. But ahh these pyjamas have been in my chest of drawers a while." He blurted out. "I think they could do with a wash. I think they've gone a bit stale, right? I'll throw them in the wash pile tonight."

"Y-yes." She responded, looking him up and down. "Yes, babe. Good idea. That's probably for the best. Pop them in the wash."

'Shit that was close. I hope she bought it'. Samuel hoped to himself as he took a few big bites of his wrap and tried to act like nothing embarrassing was happening to him. When he looked back across to Stacey, she was still staring at him. It looked like she was lost in thought. But as their eyes met for a brief moment, she was shaken from whatever she was thinking about, gave her son a quick comforting smile and then carried on eating her meal.

There was an awkward silence between mother and son. But eventually, they struck up a new conversation. Samuel did his best to steer Stacey away from the topic of university and get her to tell him more about her day - a subject she took great delight in discussing. She told him all the gossip from the clinic; anecdotes of which women were coming in for what procedure and (usually) for which man.

And before long, the pair had finished eating. Usually, at this point in the evening, Samuel would help his mother clean the kitchen and then hide himself away in his bedroom to do one of two things: play video games or watch porn. Both gave him great pleasure and were one of the few things in life he actively looked forward to and which didn't make him nervous.

Unfortunately for Samuel however, he had suggested a film and snacks night in blind panic to stop his mother from entering the room and seeing him blow his load wearing a pair of women's panties. He felt compelled to suggest this again to his mother because there had been so many strange moments this evening and he didn't want her suspecting anything or go into his room where the cum stains may still be dripping into his carpet.

"Sure, baby. That would be lovely." As she loaded the dish washer with empty plates. "Just let me get changed first, OK? I've been in these clothes all day and I'm aching to get into something more comfortable."

"Great! Can't wait!" He said excitedly. Then quickly clarifying: "For the TV and snacks!" Not wanting her to think he was excited for her to swap her jeans and T-shirt and for whatever item of comfortable clothing she was aching for.

***

Samuel was aimlessly flicking through the TV channels when his mother entered the lounge with a bowl of popcorn a short while later. She was now wearing her two-piece pink Nike tracksuit, complete with 'Just Do It' slogan across her breasts. He watched as her tits jiggled when she hopped onto the sofa to his left.

'Look at that outfit! Naughty girl. Can you see the outline of her nipples poking through? That must mean mummy's not wearing a bra...'

The pair settled down to watch a documentary on planet Earth (the one with the award-winning cinematography and softly spoken narration reminding humanity that as a species, it's doomed). Samuel wasn't too interested in it, but his mum seemed quite entertained as she "Ohh'd" and "Ahh'd" at some of the more spectacular visuals.

'Of course she's ooh-ing and ahh-ing. Dangle keys in front of a baby and it's impressed! She probably just likes the pretty colours!'

After more than a few hours, Samuel's mind really started to wander. 'How long is this on for?' He asked himself. 'This really is getting quite boring now! And I didn't want to be here to begin with.'

Checking the TV guide, he saw that there was still another another hour remaining on the documentary, and it didn't look like his mum was going to suggest watching the rest another night either.

'God damn it. Why did I suggest this? I should have just told her I was touching myself and that she needed to go away for a while...not suggest I was getting changed to watch three hours of TV together!' He knew he was still a while off getting back to his bedroom, but he was itching to leave now. 'All I really want to be doing is watching some fake tits, air-headed bimbo on my laptop getting nailed. Is that too much to ask for?'

'You don't need a laptop...you've got a fake tit air-headed bimbo right in front of you...'

His mind had really started to drift away from the reality of watching TV with his mother and to the wonderful world of pornography, specifically his favourite porn star: Lexi Luna. A 30-something teacher-turned-porn star, there were a couple of things that drove Samuel crazy about Lexi more than any other woman on the internet.

The first was her age. Of course, mid-thirties was young by any measure, but when compared to the so-called 'barely legal' models, Lexi's body had developed fully. Her breasts were big and round, they had weight to them which when she was being railed by some stud, meant they swung back and forth in a way that only big tits could. Her long legs, curvy bum and slim waist complimented her big tits: she had the perfect hourglass figure to throw around.

But the second thing - and Samuel's biggest kink - was her face. Like all popular porn stars, he thought she looked gorgeous. But Lexi has one or two very faint lines on her face: a sign of age. There was just something about the way she looked when all dolled up and wearing a skimpy set of underwear as she crawled on her hands and knees looking right into a camera begging for the guy jerking his cock to deposit his load all over her face that just looked so...pretty. The faint lines were visual proof that this women had spent a few years in education, before succumbing to her true calling: fucking on camera for money.