Delta Gamma Delta Knows How to Party: Part 2

Part 1

“Come on, Eddy,” I said, tugging at his arm. I bent over to slap his face and a moment later I felt Amy’s tight jeans against my bare thighs, her thighs and hips much wider than mine. One hand grasped my hip, locking my hips to hers, while the other made its way gently but swiftly up my neck and sank into my hair on the back of my head. She lifted my head up a bit to whisper in my ear hot and low “You shouldn’t be showing me that tight little ass in those tight little panties unless you want me to give it a good spanking.”

I slapped her on the hip lightly to get her to release me. “Mmm,” she cooed loudly enough for the girls nearby to hear, “this slut’s got fight.” This time I wasn’t playing. I shoved her hip off of mine and twisted out of her grasp. With a grunt I heaved Ed to his feet. He allowed me to drag him hastily through the grinding heat of the dancers to the door.

For a moment there was nothing between us and the door but air, until Amy called out, “Hey Sandy,” and the lovely black girl from my Monday morning class became an wall between us and our escape. Amy’s stunningly piercing voice cut through the noise again, “Hey turn that down. We’ve got a couple of beaver-teasers trying to drink and dash.”

Sandra didn’t look happy.

“You come into our house, you drink our booze and you try to run off? You think this is come kind of charity? We just givin’ out beer to every boy who thinks he’s cute?”

“No,” I explained, “it’s not like that. We didn’t even drink much.” Sure enough Amy had made her way through the now mostly motionless room carrying two plastic cups. “See?” I offered weakly.

I flinched a little as she extended an arm to take the cup from Amy. Even in my fuck-me pumps she had a head of height on me. I tried not to look scared.

“So now you’re just wasting drinks. You think we throw this shit away?” and then, addressing the crowd, “What do we do here girls?”  

Chug Chug Chug, the chant started up.

Sandra quieted them down to say, “So who’s drinking what? Looks like we have a punch and a beer.”

Edward, eyes still half closed, chimed on autopilot, “Oh I don’t like beer.”

“Punch it is,” said Sandy, handing him the drink. I tried to intercept it saying, “uhh, wait” but Ed snatched it from Sandy’s hand.

I knew that the drink was suicide for Ed. He was considerably smaller and lighter than me and the punch was way more alcoholic and roofied (probably) than the beer. I took the beer. “I really think we should switch,” I said to Ed.

He hesitated for a moment, staring stupidly at the drink, and then said, “You know what, Peter. You’re my new best friend. You can have it.”

“Awww” the crowd called with varying levels of sincerity.

The school presentation flashed through my head. “1. Do not drink anything you didn’t open and pour.” I gulped down the foul red concoction that tasted like kid’s punch and vodka in as few sips as possible. This was a skill I had developed over time. Ed meanwhile coughed and sputtered all the way down.

“I don’t feel well,” he said, nearing the bottom of the cup.

“You got this,” I said, patting his back even as I swayed on my feet. My head had gone woozy and my stomach burned. There were probably three shots worth in my cup and if not more.

Ed finished the cup and dropped it on the floor, belching. We both managed to keep our composure. The women giggled at Ed’s cute burp. Somehow even a burp sounded cute chirping through his tiny neck.

“Very good,” said Sandra. “Now you’re going to give us a little show. I want you to take your little brother’s hand.”

“He’s not,” I started, but remembered to stay quiet. I took his hand.

“How cute,” Sandra said. “Now you’re going to kiss. Give him a little kiss.”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I always said this wasn’t me. I wasn’t going to be that sheltered little boy who makes out at parties for the amusement of perverted girls. Sandy’s huge hand on my ass startled me forward. Her fat middle finger probed up between my ass cheeks, sending a shock through my body.

Ed smiled at me, still relaxed. “It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

I had a little more pride than that, but with the room beginning to spin around me, I grabbed on to Ed for balance and before I knew it our heads were being mashed together. Ed’s lips found mine and I kissed him.

The cheer went up among the crowd. “Sisters!” someone yelled. “Brothers!” replied someone else to the amusement of the group. After a moment I tried to pull back but Sandy’s firm grip on my skull compelled me forward again.

“Come on,” she said, “give him a little tongue.”

Amy’s mouth was at my other ear, tongue pushing wet and warm into my head. “Give him some tongue,” she whispered. “Show us you like it.” She was coming around me again, grabbing my hip. This time there was nothing I could do as she started to hump me comically hard to the amusement of the party. My face mashed painfully into Ed’s aided by Sandy’s strong grip.

Amy’s free hand now found its way between my legs. Another electric shock feeling fired from my groin to the pit of my stomach. It was rare that anyone touched me there. She made her way down along my ass, feeling through my panties my chastity device pulled back along my perineum along to the lock at the top and my hairless pubic area beyond. I wanted to look at her, pull back, do something, but my head was locked in those thick fingers. Ed sobbed a little, his face becoming wet and sloppy against mine. I could only imagine what they were doing to him. Amy’s hand made its way back along the device and she slipped a finger around my panties to feel my sensitive piercing and asshole. I squirmed away and she said, “Mmm. Locked and clean shaven. Just the way I like my boys.” The crowd responded in the usual way.

Sandy finally released our heads but the freedom was short lived as we were swept up and pulled/carried away to the kitchen. It was all a blur of bodies now and I could feel every part of me being squeezed, pinched, slapped and tickled. I was in sensory overload. After they tossed me on my back on the wooden kitchen table, a blonde pushed my legs up and felt through my panties my perineum. “What did I tell you?” she asked. “He’s got swelling back here. That’s a clear sign that he’d be getting hard right now if not for the restraint. This is why we restrain the boys. They really can’t handle themselves around women. Do you hear me, young man? This is disgusting,” she said, slapping me there.

Ed let out a high, long squeal. I looked over to see him with his stomach against the table, legs kicking, toes not quite touching the ground as the women rammed his ass with a purple dildo. “This slut wasn’t even wearing panties,” someone said.

Disoriented and upset I started slurring, “How a man chooses to dress is no indication of his willingness to have sex.”  At least that’s what I was trying to say. Halfway through some fat fuck dipped her piggy fingers into my throat, joking to her friends, “That’s why they make gags. These uppity bitches have all kinds of stupid shit to say.” I retched but the fingers made no indication of moving.

“No,” said Amy, “let him talk.” The fingers didn’t budge. “I think that masculist stuff is hilarious. I want to hear what he has to say with a fat vibe up his ass.”

A voice on the other side of the room cried out “Who knows how to throw a party?”

About half the girls cried out in unison “Delta Gamma Delta knows how to throw a party!”

The other half was not Delta Gamma Delts apparently.

Ed squealed with renewed vigor. A girl had strapped the oversized cock to herself and was riding him hard against the table. His toes searched the air for purchase but he couldn't quite touch the ground and there was no way to brace himself against the incoming onslaught.

Amy returned from her room with a ribbed vibrator as wide around as her fist and twelve inches long. It was pink just like the bows in Amy’s hair and on her shoes.  She clicked it on for a demonstration and it made a deep, low buzzing sound. I could see her hands vibrating in the air. Suddenly I was glad I drank the vile punch.

Sandra lifted me under the armpits off of the table and onto the floor. I tried to push myself to my feet, but her strong grip on the top of my head made it impossible. Someone tossed a towel on the floor which Sandra forced me onto and Amy laid the vibrating cock against my spine. It basically felt as wide as my whole back. I tried to look up to plead but Sandra pushed me down with a vengeance. “I know you’re not trying to peek up my skirt, pervert,” she said.  Ed hit the ground next to me moaning loudly, too tired to scream any more

“Let me go and I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Neither will Ed. We won’t say a word,” I promised, but Sandra only forced my face down onto her foot, laughing.

“Tell them what? That you committed a misdemeanor at my party and I put you under citizens’ arrest?” she asked. Amy’s unmistakable giggle rang through the crowd. “Why don’t you give my shoe a lick while you’re down there?” She was already pushing my lips into the disgusting plastic band along the outside as she said it.

“Come on,” cried someone as she kicked my side.

I shouted with pain and surprise and that was enough to send a howl of laughter through the crowd. “Heel-licker” the chant went up.

“Okay, okay,” Amy said to quiet the crowd. “I know what to do. Boy, you know the Men’s Liberation Creedo? I bet a bitchy prude like you knows it by heart.”

She was referring to the Easter Massacre Speech that ended the first wave men’s liberation movement a half century ago. Police shot twelve men trying to escape the demonstration and all 18 of the leaders were hanged for crimes against society and against nature. Their wives, deranged, self-hating women who repeatedly accepted their husband’s clits inside of them, were hanged afterwards. After that it became the norm for men to wear chastity devices regularly. It was downright dangerous to pop a boner in public now that the government was enforcing the first decency laws.

And as a matter of fact, I did know the speech, but not because of men’s studies classes. That unpleasantness isn’t discussed much anywhere. I knew the speech because I was an educated young man who cared about history and these girls were spiteful and close-minded. Instead of saying all that, I said “Yes.”

“Pig” groaned someone in the room and several others made oinking sounds.

Amy hushed them again. “That’s perfect. Would you be so kind as to recite it for us?”

“Yes,” I said with a gulp. Suddenly fear and humiliation turned to plain old fashioned stage fright. I started slow, hearing my small frail voice against the boisterous chatter. “It is before God…”

“I can’t hear you!” came a voice that easily overpowered mine.

I cleared my throat, knees beginning to grow sore against the hardwood even through the towel. The extra weight of Sandra’s arm was not helping. “It is before God and Man that we declare this constitution of unalienable rights.” I had already gotten laughs at “God.” It was not inspiring.

“We recognize that men are equal to women in all ways, professional, artistic and emotional. That men,” I took a breath finally. That’s why it was so quiet. I bellowed better now, “That men should have access to all privileges and responsibilities of full citizenship including the right to vote and hold assembles.” How sad that fifty years later we had achieved neither of those goals.

Ed had struggled to his knees but moments after he got there Amy’s protégé was on his back with her chubby fingers down his throat. He gagged violently so she removed them from his mouth and worked her hand back to his other entrance.

“That men, like all people, must have the privilege of ownership and self-destination to feel secure in themselves. “ That line has always been a joke around school. Something about men and the word secure gave girls the giggles. By now Amy had slathered the vibrator in a thick lube and she attempted to remove my panties. For a moment I stayed on my knees, ass bones locked firmly to my heels. Sandra caught on moments later and she lifted me by the head while placing a foot on my left ankle. Amy had no trouble slipping the panties off then.

“I have a girlfriend, you know,” I cried out desperately. “So does Eduardo. Our girlfriends are going to make you pay. All of you.”

“Shut up. You’re too fat and ugly to have a girlfriend,” said Sandra. I don’t know if she had seen through my bluff of if she had vetted me. At any rate, the girls took her at her word. My asshole now exposed, Amy placed a cold but firm hand on my shoulder as the other one lubed up my asshole.

“Do you want me to warm you up?” Amy asked, her voice almost a coo in my ear.

“Yes” I moaned. What am I doing? I asked myself.

Her finger was already inside me, exploring the tender flesh. It was not the first time I had been penetrated unwillingly, but it never got easier. The initial pain anyway. I have learned to relax after that. “Keep going,” she commanded, rubbing my prostate.

“That. That… ung” I moaned with pain and pleasure (and a host of other emotions and sensations). Sandra’s firm slap to the face brought me back. “That men have the right to a fair trial with all the privileges of a woman.” That right had actually been gained, somewhat. When men met their accused rapist in court he still was obligated to wear the clothes he wore the night of the assault, but he was no longer obligated to allow the jury access to his anus to determine extent of damage (but allowing it certainly wouldn’t hurt his case).

The vibrating monster was against my back again, cold as regret and buzzing loudly. Amy pulled me to my feet and with little difficulty or hesitation she righted the dildo beneath me and started pulling down on my thighs.

Ed meanwhile had become the subject of a different amusement. The women enjoying his company decided to play a game. Anna, the house dog, a mutt with the brains of a lab and the body of a mastiff, loved two things: peanut butter and tug-of-war. As they had done with her since the animal’s infancy, the sisters brought Anna out for a snack. Amy’s protégé grabbed the peanut butter from the pantry and slathered Ed’s abused ass and remarkably petite cock in it.

Bored and ravenous the dog approached the squirming, crying boy. Ed let out a girlish giggle as the broad, gritty tongue first scraped a long line across his asshole, but he giggles soon turned to howls of pain.

This concern was quickly replaced as Anna discovered that the groves and angles of the chastity cage contained far more peanut butter than the smooth lubed ass. Up till this point Ed had been on all fours but as the dog started to tug on his constrained package like a toy, he flipped over to try and defend himself. His screams cut above the racket like the squeals of a newborn pig.

“Don’t fight her,” the girls cautioned, “if she thinks you want to play she’ll tug your dick and balls right off.”

Ed tried to move with the creature but for one terrifying moment she showed her teeth and jerked her head to the right, closing down on his balls with her front teeth. Ed actually shut up his squealing for a moment and concentrated on going with the dog’s movements. He sighed relief when the dog released his package and resumed licking him.

Meanwhile, I had begun to cry. It wasn't just the pain, although it was also the pain. It was humiliation, desperation. It was disappointment at these shallow, cruel people. Also it was horror that I had become the boy I never wanted to be.  The thick, hard plastic finally breached my straining hole and my ass wrapped itself around the cock. I could feel the vibration throughout my body, from my toes to my teeth. The force was unbelievable and the thing was hardly in.

I blinked open my eyes to see a blonde who had given me a coquettish smile earlier. She brushed the hair out of my eyes with one hand while the other took my jaw firmly. “Hey, you’re okay,” she said, smiling an open, honest smile. She wiped the tears from my eyes. “Just relax for a minute. It’s not so bad.”

I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. Anal always made me a bit emotional. The skinny blonde moved one hand to my shoulder and one to my chest and helped ease me down onto the dildo. “That’s it,” she said, and then her eyes went a bit unfocused as she pressed harder to my chest. A queer smile spread across her lips as she felt her way down my body. “No way” her lips mouthed as I strained to take the crazy rattling beast deeper into my guts. “Come feel,” she said, “you can feel it through his body.”

Part 3

Delta Gamma Delta Knows How to Party Part 1

“Come on, Peter, I want to go,” complained Eduardo in his high, fey voice. “We need to get to the party so that we can leave the party and come back. I’m so sick of partying.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it,” I said. I knew that Eduardo’s real voice wasn’t the lilting, lispy intonation he used around me but I never bothered to call him out on it. I guess it’s what girls like. Some girls, anyway.

“You’ve been messing with your hair for like 15 minutes, you little slut. I want to go.”

I hated it when he used words like “slut” as well, but that’s just how he was raised. One of those really conservative small towns on the eastern slope where they call men who seek pleasure sluts while they teach good little boys to be docile and obedient. I guess that’s the value of college: to expose you to new people and new experiences.
“Fine. I guess I’m ready,” I said, pulling on my tall skinny heels. They were hard to walk in but I’ll be damned if it didn’t give me the best ass on campus. Well, second best maybe, I thought to myself, peering at Eduardo’s high, tight, small ass protruding like twin grapefruits under the tight spandex of his dress.  The number barely came down past his cage so the light would occasionally reflect off the metal between his legs as he moved around. “You better not bend down tonight,” I told him. “Everyone’s going to see your nasty pussy.”

“Oh shut up,” he said, slapping my chest. “You’re bad.”

Even perched on heels twice the size of his I kept my balance easily when he bumped into me. The boy couldn’t weigh more than 90 pounds. That’s why he was such fish bait.
I texted Amy that we were ready to be picked up but she said she was too drunk already, so we took the 105 across town. I felt a little silly under the harsh bus lights in my miniskirt and tube top. It was the same bus I rode to school and I would never wear this to school. I tugged on the pleats of my skirt and caught the wandering eye of a disheveled hobo. I made a shocked face but she only smiled wider and made an obscene gesture. I guess if I’m honest I’ll say I felt like a bit of a slut just then. Eduardo just kept joking and laughing, grabbing the pole for support when he lost his balance and then inevitably sliding around it in a half-joking way, checking to make sure the group of butch girls in the back were watching.

I felt better back in the dark. We approached Amy’s sorority house, Eduardo trotting clumsily to keep up with my strides. We could hear the bass from the end of the block. The house had some of the only lights on the block. This soro house dominated one of the closest streets to campus- nearly twice the size of any other house on the block. As was customary, most freshmen had gone home for the second weekend of the year, making the house a magnet for upperclassmen in the neighborhood. I texted ahead so Amy met us on the street out front.

‘’Well look at this pair of pretty boys,” she said, eyeing us up and down. I knew my skirt had ridden up on my hips while walking, but I trusted that my new cotton panties and the ring hooking the end of my chastity device to my perineum piercing would keep me relatively modest. I resisted the urge to tug on the skirt and appear nervous.
“Hi Amy,” I said politely. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she assured with a sinister grin.

I met Amy on move-in day. She and a few recruiters were talking to the girls about joining their sorority, and Amy had been nice enough to introduce herself to me. She instantly stood out as the most gorgeous girl in the room. Not a half-developed girl like my classmates, but a true woman. What a college lady should look like. Everything about her was cute: her nose, her brunette hair in a tight bob, her small, perky breasts (tastefully concealed under a white blouse and yellow collared shirt the first day. Tonight they looked amazing under a tight cotton tank top). Even her shoes were cute.  With only three or four inches on me, I could nearly look her even in the eye when I was talking. Despite that she had thirty pounds of womanly curves on me.

Eduardo giggled nervously. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Amy, who had been reclining on the long, wide stairs leading up the house got up and slinked around Eduardo, so close he could feel her warmth in the early autumn air. She moved gracefully, confidently, like a dancer. “Who’s your friend, Peter?” she asked.

“His name’s-“ I started.

Eduardo spun around awkwardly to face Amy, jutting out a hand, saying “Eduardo.” He tipped off balance for a second but steadied himself against her with his extended hand.

“Well hello,” she smirked, looking at the hand on her hip. “Let’s get to know each other a little first, Eduardo,” she said, stretching “Eduardo” out.

“Ed’s my roommate,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind he came along.”

“Not at all,” she said with a smile. “Well come with me inside. Let me get you guys drunk.”

Ed found his (annoying, annoying) voice for long enough to whine, “I need to get to work early tomorrow so I’m just going to have a little.”

Amy smiled over her shoulder. “Of course.” I detected sarcasm in her voice but Eduardo’s shit-eating grin showed no signs of comprehension.

Inside the place was packed. The music was blaring almost unbearably loud (“I got two boy toys getting on me like unh-huh”) so the three scurried to the kitchen. Looking around, I felt a funny twist of nervousness in my gut despite myself. There were so many gorgeous women in such a small space, all hot and sweaty from dancing and drinking, many grinding against each other. Men could never be totally safe in a space like this from weight alone. Any one woman could easily restrain me, let alone more than one of them acting together. I’d heard about the dangers of going to sorority houses alone (which is why I didn’t go last week) but I took some comfort in knowing that only bimbo sluts got raped in sorority houses. Of course I chided myself after for having the thought, but I was comforted nonetheless. On move-in day there was a presentation on how to protect yourself from rape and being drugged. Still, some part of my brain was alerting me that the situation felt dangerous. Or it could be a horniness pang. These girls were gorgeous. The prime of their lives. So many bodies. Warm, sweaty bodies. With warm, sweaty pussies grinding underneath.
“Shots!” yelled Amy. I flinched. It was much quieter in the kitchen, and her voice much louder.

We threw back shots of cheap vodka and passed around a sugary sport drink to wash out the taste. I reminded myself to keep an eye on Eduardo. If that kid got four drinks in him I’d be dragging him home on the bus or spending the night, and spending the night didn’t seem like a great option. There are distinct disadvantages to being a Small, I thought to myself just before a passing woman grabbed a quick handful of his ass.

Ed let out a yelp. “Another! Let’s do another shot.”

I hid my face in my hand. We took another shot.

“Another!” cried Ed but I threw my arms around him and said, “No, not just now. Let’s wait a bit, buddy.”

“You guys look cute together,” said a black girl behind us. Sandra, I think her name was. We also met briefly the other week.

Eduardo smiled at her briefly and then staggered wildly. I grabbed him to keep him up. “I think the shots hit me, Peter.”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. I gave Sandra a polite smile and nod and shuffled off into the other room to find Ed a spot on the ratty sofa in the living room.  I yelled to two women sharing a conversation in the right and middle seats if they could move for my friend. They glared at me before continuing to talk. I asked the woman sitting on the left.

“Sure,” she said, getting up. I eased Ed (plopped is probably more accurate) and climbed on to the arm of the sofa. Looking around, it dawned on me that we were the only boys here. Literally every person dancing was female. “Is your friend okay?” the woman, bending over me asked. She had nowhere to sit and she stood nearly a foot taller than me so she bent down to get her face near mine. I resisted the urge to look down her low cut purple tee and looked into her eyes.
“He’s fine. He’s just a pussy.”

She looked a little startled by my language for a moment but then asked, “Can I get you a drink. You want a beer?”

Hmm. Non-specific beer or probably-tainted punch? “No thanks, I’m good,” I said.

“You come to a party and you don’t drink? What’s up with that?” she demanded. She had a pretty face: large eyes, full lips, nice nose, but she looked truly spiteful with her face contorted in disgust.

I smiled to ease the tension, “Just finished a drink actually. I’m taking a break.”

She shook her head “no” and set off for the kitchen. In her absence four women inquired about Eduardo’s health. He gets all the looks.

The woman returned with two plastic cups full of punch. “Punch,” she said, handing me one.

I smiled again, having somewhat more difficulty than before. “No thanks, I don’t want any.”

“Okay,” she said, frowning, “suit yourself,” and put one cup on the floor behind me. “So who do you know here?”

“Amy,” I answered, looking for her in the crowd.

“Oh, Amy. She’s my ‘big sister’ in the house. She’s helping me become a full member.”

“You’re a freshman?” I asked in shock. She was built like a brick house. Not fat by any means, just big. Big arms, thick legs.

“Yeah, “ she responded, “but I’m like 25. They needed my help on the ranch for a few years. How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” I lied. Even Ed didn’t know I was 17. I don’t like having to explain that I skipped a grade because I’m smart. People don’t like a smart man.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s hot. Are you a virgin?”

“No,” I lied again. I certainly wasn’t an anal virgin, if that’s what she meant.

“So you’re unlocked?” she asked.

“No, I took the pledge,” I said. Males at the university were automatically enrolled in an extra 9 hours of ‘domesticity classes’ unless they took the chastity pledge and secured their penis in a school issued chastity device. The nurse at the clinic on campus fit them after the first assembly. I thought it was ridiculously sexist, having all of us men march past our classmates out onto the football field and into the gym lockers. The whole practice is absurd. Predicated on the idea that men are sexual animals who will wildly attack women on the street unless properly educated or restrained. Nevertheless, who has time for 9 more hours of class? And I heard the demonstration unit gets into some pretty humiliating and debasing lessons.

“Wow, neat,” she said, rubbing her nipple under her shirt as she nodded. She’s not being very subtle, I thought to myself. I glanced at Eduardo, whose eyes had closed. I smacked him on the leg as the girl asked, “what type of restraint?”

This was getting awfully personal, but I didn’t want to annoy her again or look like a prude so I said, “I’ve got a root piercing. I’ve had it since I was a kid so I’m pretty used to it now.” Ever since puberty, it seems, there was some plastic or metal hanging between my legs. Early high school was the worst because it seemed the crotch snake would puff up at anything but controlling erections got easier with age.

I could tell that she wanted to know more, but she held back for a second, perhaps picking up on my discomfort. After a bit she asked, “So what’s your major?”

“Oh, that old question. Everyone asks that. I’m a Lit major,” I lied again.

“Really? I’m a Lit major,” she said, excited. “Who do you have for Theory?”

I considered for a moment making up a name but instead told the truth. “I’m actually a Men’s Studies major with a focus on Literature.” My voice cracked on the first syllable.

She rolled her eyes briefly and turned to face the room.

“What?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” she said unsmiling. “What’s the world going to do with another Men’s Studies major?”

“Ha,” I said, unlaughing. “I bet you never hear that as a lit major.”

Now she looked at me, blinking without understanding.

I tried a different tact. “Do you know how many men made major contributions to history? There’s a huge wealth of history and knowledge that’s being lost to our society due to pure indifference. We need someone in this world to remember.”

Now she looked outright hostile. She stood straighter up, puffing out her chest and crossing her arms along the bottom of her breasts. “You’re not one of those uppity masculists, are you?”

“No, I…” I started, but she couldn’t hear me. I hopped to my feet, indignant. “No I am not a masculist,” I said, stressing each word equally. “I am just interested in men’s literature.” She snorted a bit at that. “And what’s funny about that?” I demanded. This wasn’t going great but the alcohol had burned my empty belly and now I had a fire inside. She was just being so… dismissive.

“Nothing,” she said, “we just don’t really study men’s literature in Lit classes. It’s not really of the same quality. It focuses mainly on domestic scenes. Boring, boring stuff. And usually tasteless.”

That last jab was probably at the so called “Equality Erotica” that had been filling sex shops recently, portraying unlocked men freely masturbating without any kind of keyholder. For a few months there had even been penetration scenes with unlocked men and women, but the new set of decency laws ended that. For once I actually agreed with a Gender Relations Committee. That sort of behavior is better kept behind closed doors.

“I’m not saying that men deserve equality. Far from it,” I said, “but you have to admit that there are vast inequities in society. I mean, look at this school alone. Incoming male students has dropped below 15% for the first time in half a century. Only 10% of the faculty is male. We make up over 30% of the population of the US.”

“Yeah, you were probably told that by the male teachers. I think most, if not all of them, are in Men’s Studies. “

“Yes,” I admitted.

She looked away lazily and then turned back to say, “You know, you bimbos show up with the prettiest faces and the tightest little asses, but you open your mouths and it’s all shit flowing out. That’s why the only good man is one slurping up my cunt,” before leaving for the kitchen.

I stood there shaking with rage for less than a minute before another voice asked me, “Hey you want this beer? I got an extra.”

“No,” I shouted, too loud even for the music. I got a few glances from the room.

“Hey, what’s up?” Amy asked, handing me the beer. Absentmindedly I took it.

“Nothing.” I said. “Just. Just some jerk. Shouldn’t waste my time on her.”

Amy shrugged. “Well, you know. People are people. Girls will be girls.”

“Girls will be girls” I repeated hollowly, taking a sip. When the bitter taste hit my tongue I realized I was drinking, but at that point it seemed silly to back out of the sip. When I finished my sip I set the cup on the ground behind me, careful to bend at the knees not the hips.

“So what do you think?”  she asked, raising her voice above the din, “Is Sigma Nu the hottest bunch of bitches on campus?”

I looked around at the expectant faces. “Damn right,” I yelled, not feeling the spirit at all.
“Damn right,” the crowd cheered and went back to dancing.

“Look, I think we’re going to get going. Ed’s not feeling well.”

We both looked at Eduardo who opened his eyes and blinked around for a bit before settling into an empty stare in front of him. He must have pre-gamed before I got home, I realized.

“Really?” she asked. “You just got here.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

She smiled that same flirty, sinister smile. “I thought we were going to have a fun night tonight.”

I sighed. I did feel a bit guilty. “Look, I’ll make it up to you. We can go out to lunch tomorrow and you can show me the city. How about that?

She took my hands in her much larger hands and stepped closer, jutting her chest in my face. She rocked back and forth slightly, swinging my arms locked in her hands. “If you want to go then how come you’re being such a flirty baby, huh?

I didn’t smile that time. I wiggled free of her and took a step back. Her eyes were surprised for a second, and then hurt. I knew I had hurt her pride. I knew it was time to go.

Part 2
Part 3

Step-Daughters

Manners

I envisage a future where male chastity is treated with the same kind of prudish sensibility with which female sexuality was treated throughout the Victorian era.

Good Sissy

Power and the Family

Today I posted a new set of captions! Check them out here: http://www.imagefap.com/pictures/3274389/Femdom-Strapon-Caps-7-2100

This set explores some of the darker and more elaborate of my fantasies, one of which is family domination. While I am not explicitly attracted to my mother or my sisters, I write captions about those fantasies and find them very erotic.

There was something degrading about growing up with two older sisters who could and often would overpower me and sit on me until I relented. From a young age I realized that, in the end, the physical aggressor wins the argument. My sisters would frequently pin me down and laugh as I struggled to free myself. There was nothing erotic about it, and I outgrew them when I hit puberty, but it must have programmed something in me from a young age.

The role of the mother in my fantasy future is one of ultimate authorial. Growing up, your mother shapes your world and your mind. What happens in early childhood will color your perceptions for the rest of you life. For that reason, the mom has enormous power. In the future, mothers dehumanize and use their sons from a young age to prepare them for the treatment that they will receive for the rest of their lives. The mother can teach them about their utter submission and show them the physical realities of it. Some mothers simply become accustomed to a sex and thought slave and decide to castrate their sons and keep them for their own. It doesn't take much to enslave a boy's mind from a young age.

So while my own mother is not attractive to me, the role of motherhood and it's great power is hugely attractive.

Thank you to those of you who have sent me emails and reached out to me. It is wonderful to hear from readers and it spurs me to continue writing.  This group of captions was the last of that set, so it will be some time before I release my next large set of captions. In the meantime, however, I will continue blogging and posting images. I plan to educate myself on photo manipulation so that I can contribute to the image instead of just the language. I also plan to start writing short-short stories on this blog for a little light reading. I want to start working back up to writing long-form fiction.

To see new images, check out my captions on imagefap: http://www.imagefap.com/pictures/3274389/Femdom-Strapon-Caps-7-2100 . For some inspiration and very sexy blogs check out The Second World and Looking-Glass World, two amazing blogs. Thanks for reading.

Size

I'd like to discuss something that comes up in my captions quite a bit: size differences. One of my earliest fantasies was related to this issue. When I was in elementary school, before I was concerned with realism or anatomy, I had an overweight teacher and I wanted her to swallow me with her fat rolls- her huge tits, her sweaty pussy, her giant ass. I wanted to crawl inside of her and live there, just inside her pussy or around her pubic hair. I wanted to be tiny and live inside her panties all day as she walked around sweating, using me as toilet paper when she pissed.

I was young then: pre-pubescent young. In fact, most of my current fantasies are updated and refined versions of fantasies I came up with before or right around puberty. I guess that that's one of the reasons I am so tiny or young in my fantasies. I am currently 6'2, 160 lbs (a tall, gangley fellow by any measure), but I was always the shortest and youngest person in every class and friend group I had up until I was 17 and finally outgrew everyone. That's 17 years of looking up to everyone and 5 of looking down. There are things I miss about being short- being picked up, poked at, played with by friends. I think that when you are taller, people are less physical with you. Maybe it's because I look like I can fight back now. Or maybe that's just part of growing up. Anyway, I miss the physical contact (non-sexual) that I had when I was smaller.

There's also the power element. In any sexual situation I've had, I know somewhere in me that I could physically overpower the other person if I really had to. I have never been restrained to the point where I couldn't easily free myself. My girlfriends (post-high school) have been significantly shorter and lighter than me (usually around a whole foot). I would like to be with a girl as tall as me, or slightly shorter, but It's difficult to find women of that height. Sometimes I fantasize about just being spooned by a woman taller than me. When I am being spooned, I like to be small spoon, and I often dream that the girl will shove a double-ended dildo into me and then start getting off, quietly in the early morning, while I am nothing but a dildo holder for her. I wish that I was in chastity, and she would start fucking my ass in that early stillness before the morning starts, sensually but firmly.

But, until the laws of nature are reversed, it will remain a fantasy.

I created a new album of captions today that you can view here: http://www.imagefap.com/pictures/3227394/Femdom-Strapon-Caps-7-2011.

I will release another set next weekend, so that you have something to look forward to. Here is a bonus caption from the next set: