The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

JUNE 3RD

“Are we really trying to learn theory during summer break?” Aubrey said.

“We are, and we will,” Anna said. “No matter what.” They’d been best friends since orientation, and now faced their greatest challenge, in learning feminist theory 101 during a summer session.

Despite the professor.

Aubrey had been grounded in sex-positive and female-positive works her entire life. Nonetheless it was hard to refer to the instructor as Professor anything. Professor Bee wore big hoop earrings. She had corn-blonde hair that swung behind her. In all honesty, Aubrey privately thought, she sounded kind of like a dumb blonde, with a sing-songy high-pitched lilt, like a cartoon kitty. “Can an 80s blonde really teach 2020s feminism?” she said, quietly.

Anna let the remark sink. Her approach to learning was to charge, straight ahead. Their professor was laboriously writing out a complicated URL on the whiteboard. It had taken her quite some time. “The syllabus says we’re watching Pretty Woman next week,” she said, neutral.

“Heart of GOLD!” Aubrey continued grousing. Professor Bee had not been listed on the course catalog. A Professor Klein had been. She was reassuringly bald in the website photo. The perfect instructor for Feminism. .

“Gosh! That was hard!” Professor Bee squeaked. “I’ll see you all next week!” They’d gone around the room and introduced themselves, and then another thirty minutes of class discussion on “what IS feminism today?” Professor Bee hadn’t been much help on that question. She’d literally waved a hand in the air and said “its a bunch of stuff!” And now class was over. The teacher wore a khaki mini with a big unnecessary belt. It had a gold ring for a loop that matched her earrings. She wore a fascinating amount of lipstick. Her lips looked like redhot candies and her breasts were served up in a scoop-neck purple top.

“Good class,” Aubrey said, as the other girls departed. Half the class wore tights, the other half wore loose tights. The class was at 8 a.m. and they all looked awful.

“Summer A counts the same as regular A,” Anna said.

“Looked like D-cups to me,” Aubrey said. She made sure to look away, so as not to catch Anna’s disapproving look.

The campus was unusually busy for summer. Typically the post-term lazy hot haze had everyone walking slow on a half-empty campus. But there was some sort of event flooding in. Big white vans had invaded campus, unloading what seemed to be very expensive A/V equipment, stereo speakers in unusual shapes, not to mention some eager looking girls in matching tanktops. Aubrey looked at them askance. One girl was checking her own heavy lipstick in the reflection off a huge chunk of polished steel. Some sort of enormous computer equipment.

The dorms, at least, were still normal. Cold and concrete, but normal. Aubrey typed in the very lengthy URL from the board. Her screen paused and chugged. The laptop fan started to whir. There was a complex noise that -- and then it loaded.

“LIST TEN FEMINIST THINGS ABOUT BLOWJOBS!!!” the assignment read. The only assignment. No due date given.

“What the fuck,” Aubrey said, out loud.

She’d grudgingly started a Google Doc. It read: 1. Gross. 2. No.

“Its a thought experiment,” Anna said. This had been shocking enough to merit a phone call. “Recontextualize and reclaim. These are easy points.

“Reclaim a penis in your mouth,” Aubrey said. To herself she thought: Anna would do it, if it meant an A. “Do you think we’ll do spanking next.”

“Actually, BDSM ha--” Aubrey hung up at that point. She flipped over, restless, and found a porno site. It took time to load -- despite a lower summer load the campus wifi was chugging. The browser fidgeted and rippled. Her annoyance doubled -- not only was Aubrey wasting her precious time on earth to see some girl get her tonsils rocked, it was taking a long time.

Finally she got a scene loaded. Finding some consensual, amateur performance was probably in the spirit of the assignment. Instead she went with a lo-res, unabashed professional commercial porno shoot. A blonde, much like Professor Bee, getting her mouth reamed while she looked on with too-wide eyes. Credit to her, she kept the boredom out of her expression. The video was twenty-three minutes long.

“C’mon, finish up,” Aubrey told the performer. The girl was so passive, even for porn. A receptacle. And it was taking forever for the guy to cum. How good could it be, if there was eighteen minutes left? “Cum, you dumb asshole!” She laid face down and took it in, screen flickering.

She’d blown a boyfriend once. Aubrey was not unaware of their erotic charge, certainly when it came to the male side. It was ritualistically submissive. Unnecessarily passive. The girl did all the work, got none of the friction. Even anal held out a chance of getting a lady off. This was male worship, a pure act of giving, the man’s cock thrusting, thrusting…

To her chagrin, Aubrey realized she was starting to feel it.

She was watching porno, she told herself. Her brain was registering a very long dick, wet and throbbing, pistoning with male enthusiasm. There was really no way to stop herself from feeling damp and hot. So maybe that was item number one: basic, unavoidable, human arousal. Aubrey felt her nipples inevitably stiffen. It WAS better then watching penis-in-vagina sex, she had to admit that. Faces were prettier. And the girl was cute. So what was the lesson, that even unsatisfying depictions of men taking advantage got her randy? Sad but true.

She checked between her legs, looked to see if the door was locked, and then put a pillow there. Humping it almost helped.

“Ugh,” she said, closing the laptop lid. She picked up her phone and pulled up Joshua. She was pretty sure he was in town.

A: what will you give me to suck your dick.

The message was on read for only moments before the bubble appeared.

J: i’m coming over??

She’d destroyed her negotiating position. Joshua had arrived with a friendly-but-smug smile, in basketball shorts, and immediately. He’d put his butt on her bed without asking. A man who knew a blowjob was near.

They’d been -- fuckbuddies was not the right term. They weren’t really buddies. Aubrey searched for the word that meant: three sexual encounters, two of which she’d initiated, bored and frustrated. Sex acquaintances.

“I have to come up with ten good things about blowjobs,” she told him. “For a CLASS.” Her body was not making this easy. It was thrilled to see a man in the room. Again, Aubrey supposed it was her own fault. First she’d watched porn and now she’d texted a sex acquaintance. But the joke was on her: now she was just going to suck his dick and be totally unsatisfied.

“I can come up with way more than ten,” Joshua said. He was ultimately too sardonic to love. Aubrey had probed his personality and concluded that he was just a guy. A collection of books he had read and movies he had seen. He did have dark eyes, but they were in someone five foot six. Part of feminism was allowing herself to just not like short kings.

“Ten good, FEMINIST things,” Aubrey clarified. He was pitching a tent, on her bed. She was going to let this man fuck her face, why? But her eyes kept straying to his midsection. Being heterosexual was a terrible burden, sometimes. It left proper, intelligent women craven for the most ridiculous things. That had to be the lesson, right? Reconciling proper feminism with the occasional need to let a monkey libido rule?

“Hmmmmm,” Joshua screwed his face up. “Really? And this is for a class? What class is it?”

“Nevermind,” God, what if he joined it. “I am using it as currency. Sex work is work. Name your price.”

“I’ll go down on you,” Joshua said.

“That’s not equivalent,” Aubrey said, shaking her head. “I know how much you men love blowjobs.”

“True,” Joshua conceded. He took his time responding. “I mean, I can’t do your laundry for a blowjob. Demeans us both.”

He was right. “And I can’t cook really, honestly…” Joshua was thinking hard. “I’m pretty much worthless to you. The only time you looked me up was because you needed my dick.”

Aubrey had to concede the point. She swallowed hard. Spit had built up in her mouth. Joshua opened his legs, so she could see his full package riding along the inside of his shorts. She knew from experience that it was just average. Average dick. She really wanted that average dick. “Pay me,” she suggested.

“Nope, no go. I can’t possibly afford what you’re worth. Lets just look at it.” He paused for just a moment, to let her say: no, don’t whip out your god damn dick. The moment passed, and out it came. “I think you’re just gonna need to do this one for free,” he said, regretful.

“I’m not--” god, she nearly drooled. What was up with her? His cock twitched, and her head twitched with it. Aubrey managed to look down at herself. No wonder Joshua was being so forward. She was balanced on her knees, leaning forwards on the computer chair, boobs in her top spilling forwards. She looked like a drinky-bird for sucking dick. And now she was literally drooling. It occurred to her that she could just fuck him. But -- there was the assignment. Was THAT the assignment? Rejecting authority and demanding a fuck?

Actually after all the buildup she was starting to look forwards to sucking the thing.

“THIS one will be free,” Aubrey emphasized, scooting forwards. She paused above the cockhead. The little tip was oozing goo.

“You can pay me next time,” Joshua agreed.

Aubrey reached out and gave just the slightest squeeze. It got the reaction she’d hoped for: an intake of breath, a sudden uncertainty in Joshua’s eyes. She felt a sudden rush that went from head to pussy to toes. There was a kind of power here. She’d gotten the man to drop everything in his life to get her between his legs. In her hand she held the font of manhood. Every ounce of his confidence, his swagger, dripped in her palm. She could squeeze harder, she could make his eyes roll back in his head. Item number one: power.

Satisfied, Aubrey turned to sucking his cock.

She had no clue how to do it.

Any sense of power dissipated. Right away her teeth nipped at the skin, leading to his obvious wince. “Sorry,” she mumbled, around a mouthful. After a few awkward licks Aubrey tried wrapping her lips around her teeth and acting like it was a lavish ice cream cone. She didn’t dare look up: what if Joshua was glaring at her, or, even worse, had his eyes squeezed shut with pain? He wasn’t doing much, and she felt sudden regret he wasn’t treating her like the porno girl, using her. Taking her mouth, reducing her to a mute, curvy---

“Aubrey, I’m gonna cum,” he whispered.

What? Aubrey was slow to react -- she’d just gotten inside the porn star’s head, and she hadn’t waited around to watch the cum shot. Joshua roughly pushed her up, on the shoulder. She got free just as an enormous geyser of semen spit upwards. It hit her on the nose.

JUNE 16th

In class Richard Gere was looking very suckable.

Aubrey had woken up, paused, and then felt a hot flush of bemused embarrassment. Not only had she pulled Joshua over for a blowjob, she’d simply sucked him and sent him on his way. She’d thought about at least getting an IOU One Ass-Eating but, dripping with his jizz, had needed some space. So far her feminist summer journey was going poorly.

On the other hand, Richard Gere had a very winning smile. She discreetly googled ‘Richard Gere Blowjob Hollywood Story’ under the desk.

Professor Bee didn’t notice. She sat at the very front of the classroom and audibly, visibly brightened whenever the male lead, or any male, appeared on screen. It was as open a display of female sexual display as Aubrey could recall seeing -- her teacher’s legs essentially sprang open towards the end, and she sat there slouched.

“Gosh! Well!” she said, once the movie ended. The other girls blinked in the sudden light and examined each other. The Professor wasn’t the only one with blush-red cheeks, although she was the only one with obviously erect nipples. She wore a peasant-inspired short dress, the main feature of which was a deep, plunging V-neck. It was made out of some expensive crinkle-fabric and had blue on blue embroidery. But the bottom line was: short hem, lots of cleavage. The Professor had opted for calfskin short boots. She looked like a pornographic milkmaid. “I hope we all liked that movie! It might be my very favorite! Which one should we watch next?”

“On the Basis of Sex?” Anna suggested. Her voice was thick. Aubrey sympathized. All of her felt thick. Every five seconds or so the movie had -- jumped. Or something. That plus mental imagery of Gere cock left her feeling sluggish, even slow.

Professor Bee brightened. “Whats it about?”

“The Supreme Court,” Anna said.

“Oh. Great. Well, we’ll think of something!”

Professor Bee eyed her classroom. A rare moue crossed her always-playful expression. “Ladies,” she said, her voice briefly dropping below playful-kitten. “I can NOT help but NOTICE that we are trying to be feminist in the exact same blah-frowsy OUTFITS!”

Aubrey felt her sudden displeased glare. They were all of them, every girl, wearing black tights and long t-shirts. About half had found sweaters.

“I do NOT know when there was that meeting where we all decided to wear the exact same,” Professor Bee’s mouth twisted. “PANTS. But I was NOT invited!”

“They’re……. sleek,” Aubrey thought and didn’t say. It was hard for anyone in the room to talk, after getting force-fed Richard Gere at his hottest. They were barely even blinking.

“No one is gonna run this big ‘ol world in those pants! I know they make those little co-ed butts of yours look nice and perky, and I respect that, I do! But we are making an effort this summer! If you want to wear tights, you need better tushes then the ones I’m seeing! Class dismissed!”

Anna had her hand up, although it trembled. When Professor Bee wrinkled her nose at it, she pointed at it with her other hand. “This means I have a question.”

“Oh! Right.” Professor Bee nodded.

“What about the… assignment?”

The other girls caught each other’s eyes. Aubrey saw a lot of guilty looks, a few knowing smirks. So she wasn’t the only one to go out and drain some boy’s nuts. That made her feel a bit better.

“Oh, that? Its not due until whenever. Have fun with it! Be creative!”

“What if we find it... “ Anna fought her teacher’s pet urges. It was obviously a struggle. “Not… very… feminist?”

“Oh but it is!” Professor Bee said. She sauntered over to Anna, who wore the biggest, floppiest sweater of them all. “Being a feminist is about using EVERYTHING you have to get ahead in this man’s world, don’t you agree?” Her tits hovered in front of Anna’s face. Anna was, Aubrey knew, on a lengthy journey of discovery regarding her sexuality. Her eyes flickered up and down from Bee’s face to nipples.

“Everything?” Anna said.

“Everything,” Professor Bee said. She licked her lips. It took awhile.

“But what-- how--- what if----”

Professor Bee brightened. “Oh… oh! Honey! Just go up to a boy and talk to him! There’s nothing to it! Now get out there, my little feminists!”

“What do you think feminism is?” Anna said. “Like, really.” They had decamped to the student store. It was in the middle of a sudden overhaul. Brawny men with heavy cheeks were hauling displays in and out, perspiring in the summer heat, and generally looking desirable. As the last one passed, with shaggy, lovable hair, Aubrey slipped him a folded note.

“I mean…” Aubrey pulled her eyes away from male jaws. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m taking the class. Right?”

Anna pursed her lips. It was a signature move. “Is it really blowjobs?” she said, scandalized.

“We have to reclaim them? I guess?” Aubrey shrugged, hapless. “They’re not going away, therefore they must be made feminist? I don’t know. I wrote down, Reclaim Power for item number one afterwards.”

“Afterwards?” Anna was in the same slubby tights as she was, but had the lean, skinny body to pull it off. She looked like she jogged at sunrise. “Afterwards… what? Aubrey?”

Aubrey was saved by a fellow co-ed in a student store polo handing out free -- something. They were plastic, and the label read “GIRL VERSION!” “Here!” the employee said, grinning a little too much for minimum wage. She had every polo button undone, and wore tight little shorts. Aubrey took a pink plastic bottle full of pink liquid.

“Girl version of what?” Anna said.

“I think thats just the name. Girl Version.”

“It looks like pepto-bismol.”

“Its ironic! I’ll just take an ironic sip.” Aubrey shook her hand, triumphant. She took a swig, encouraged.

“Well? Does it taste feminist?” Anna said.

“I mean, its… powerful. So yes.” It was, actually, powerful, and in a girly way. Like pink lemonade mixed with Red Bull, chased with a pixie stick. “Its.. good. In a bad way.”

“Holy shit Aubrey, it colors your teeth pink,” Anna took her own bottle from the still-smiling vendor. The two girls gave each other tacit permission to stop talking and start drinking Girl Version. It tasted like someone had marinated a fairy in it. Aubrey checked it for alcoholic content -- it definitely tasted spiked, and she had felt a little loopy straightaway.

“Damn,” Anna said, regarding her empty bottle. She shook her head, slowly blinking. Aubrey couldn’t blame her. It colored thoughts. “Lets return to the topic. Afterwards. Afterwards? Aubrey, please. Really? A guy?”

“I made my own decisions,” Aubrey said, sticking out a pink tongue. “No jealousy. This is what extra credit looks like.”

“I choose not to get Boy Version on my eyes,” Anna said. “Or did you swallow?”

“Anna!” It was an out of character question. She seemed intent on it, however, until they pushed through the old racks of tedious university sweaters, and into the new section. The big boys had been hard at work. Aubrey’s throat, still coated pink, constricted. “Oh shit.”

The new clothes were Professor Bee on racks. Row after row of dresses, skirts, blouses, even some sort of lingerie section set in the back. Adorable stuff, that was right away obvious -- if a little pink and sparkly and skimpy. An entire part of the store, meant for fraternity party gear after a three-month dry spell.

“Didn’t there used to be books here?” Anna said, as Aubrey fell into it. It was all glorious stuff, at the perfect intersection of summer and slutty. Shorts that Aubrey could already tell ran up too high, shirts that would show too much boob, skirts that she’d struggle, really struggle, to sit in. All in blue-yellow-pink pastels, and dirt-ass cheap.

“And they don’t even have the dumb school insignia on them!” Aubrey said, enthusiastic. Her wardrobe was sedate to the point of caution -- three pairs of jeans, any number of tights, loose t-shirts with ironic things written on them, a few tanktops. She’d always constrained her look, self-conscious about her body, herself, her everything. Aubrey had always felt like she fell into the background of every photo. But now she had explicit permission, in fact an order, to wear cute stuff for feminism. To make a point about her body probably. That it was good she had tits.

If she couldn’t show off some boobs in college, over the summer, then when?

“I can’t…” Anna started, automatic, but then her hand brushed against a nylon pair of volleyball shorts that were half-off, and also cheap. She got real quiet.

“Anna, didn’t you play volleyball in high school?” She had the perfect look for it, and, honestly, was one of the few girls in the class with a good butt. It was bubbly and pert and wasted on her.

“Yeahhhhh….” Anna said, slowly. Then she pulled the shorts off the rack. And another. They both took big stacks of clothes to the register, giggly and hyper with shopping overload. The boy at the register had equally shaggy hair as the construction guy. He was sipping -- no, slurping -- on a blue bottle named BOY VERSION.

“Ooh, let me sniff!” Aubrey said, as her credit cards flared. BOY VERSION smelled like cheap beer in the sofa cracks, washed with boy aftershave. It was terrible. The boy chugged the last half. Aubrey slipped him a note, folded in half.

‘I couldn’t afford these,” Anna said, once they were clear. She held her bag with both hands, clutching it closed, very tightly. “Money and time. I have a calc test tomorrow. At least I don’t have to study for our joke of a Feminism class.”

“You gotta get going on the extra credit,” Aubrey said. “You’re falling behind.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s EXTRA CREDIT, Anna! I know you.” She’d pushed too hard. Anna’s blush reached her nose. “Well, fine, don’t. You can just watch some movies.”

“Absolutely not. I’m going to get my lowest grade ever in this class. B+.”

“Let see!” Aubrey said, waving away. She’d handed Anna’s phone number to both boys. It felt good to help a friend with an assignment.

JUNE 26th

“Come over,” the text from Joshua read. Aubrey squirmed. This was, in her view, very clearly a request… no, an ORDER, for a girl to come over and dutifully suck a man’s dick.

The answer here was clearly “no!” wasn’t it? As not just a feminist but as a self-respecting woman, she was not some sort of pressure valve. She was not a mouth to be ordered over to to do a job. Unpaid. To the extent she was prepared to occasionally do blowjob duty, it was in the context of a mutual relationship of mutual respect.

The problem was, she was kinda squirming at the idea of it. Her legs rubbed together, and she had a brand new problem as well: mouth-watering. It was transgressive, thats what it was. She’d get all dolled up in her nice new clothes, the tags just clipped, including the cute new boots she’d gotten on the way home. So just a vision in skin, loose yellow tunic shirt, khaki mini, definitely no bra. Sashay her butt over in uncomfortable shoes -- a distance of three-quarters of a mile -- so she could get up to his room and suck him off. It was a transgressive thought. Submissively sexy.

No, she would not.

Aubrey had conscientiously plugged her phone in so she wouldn’t lose charge while agonizing over the decision.

And yet. Even before responding ‘NO’ the idea of sending it gave her an overwhelming sense of--- guilt. Shame, even. That she would be a bad girl, turning him down. Not a team player, demanding, a bad friends-with-benefits. Where was the benefit? He was saying he liked her, wasn’t he? Or at least her mouth. And that after -- there was no denying it -- she had just given a very substandard blowjob. A pretty bad one. Aubrey had been watching quite a bit of porn since then, and practicing on a banana she got at the dining commons. Actually lots of girls seemed to be acquiring fruit.

But it just wasn’t feminist, was it? It was feminist to say no, and then spend an unsatisfying night humping a pillow. Actually she was already humping a pillow, staring at Joshua’s text. She’d stripped out of her panties after soaking them with taboo walk-to-joshua fantasies, ditched them, and then put a pillow between her legs. It was barely doing the job. She’d thought about touching herself but realized: she hadn’t earned it. How could she, when Joshua was out there, aching, his dick red and bold and unsucked?

“Ughhh,” she moaned. Her assignment was open on her computer, behind umpteen porn clips of girls getting their tonsils rocked. She’d only written one new entry: New Skill? With the question mark. Somehow one of her fingers found their way inside her mouth. She’d brought home a six-pack of those new pink drinks. Just one remained. They’d formed dinner, along with a banana. She needed more in her mouth.

What was wrong with her? Aubrey considered herself normal girl horny. Far from unhorned, but with a sexuality that was under control at all times. Cautious. Always aware of complicating factors: men being men, birth control, how her butt looked, the walk of shame the next day. This was practically wanton, from her. She felt the first stir of unease, while thrusting herself into her pillow.

An incredible, empowering, girlboss idea hit her. “Do you need me?” she texted back. There! The power dynamic was back, and she was leveraging it. To be used was one thing, even a really sexy thing, her face getting fucked… a second finger got in her mouth… but to be needed was another.

“Yes.” And then, the capper. “Please.”

Please. Was there anything more empowering?

She’d already done her makeup, just in case she found a progressive way to go over there. Aubrey had folded a carefully-chosen outfit on her computer chair. A thigh-length chambray dress that made her look super cute, with white sneakers. She shimmied into it, and nearly ran out the door, after leaving her pillowcase by the window, to dry.

“Check this out,” Joshua was agitated and uncertain.

It was not what Aubrey had expected. He really did need someone to talk to. Her knees had given a quiver even as he’d opened the door, and she’d resisted a urge to fall onto them, but he seemed honestly uninterested in a quickie.

“A hundred pushups, a hundred situps… then a bunch of numbers… what are kettlebells?” Aubrey read off the screen.

“Heavy balls,” Joshua said. Aubrey perked up at that. “Weightlifting gear. This is my homework assignment.”

He paused for effect. “In math class.”

“Does that explain the numbers?” Aubrey said.

“Those are weight-rep sets. For week one. The professor is… I don’t know. He really is a math genius. And then he says us boys can’t do calculus with weak forearms. See this?” “This” was an enormous bottle of protein powder, in the baby-blue Aubrey now associated with ‘man-only’. “This is preworkout Man Plan. I have to eat three spoonfuls every meal.” Joshua fished a spoon out of what looked like aquamarine sea salt. Then he ate it.

“I guess its…... summer?” Aubrey hazarded, uneasy. It wasn’t that she was blind to the -- oddness -- across campus. Even if it was hard to put her finger on. She wasn’t totally sure how much she could handwave away as ‘summer crazies.’

Joshua pondered this, and dug his spoon in for another big mouthful. Aubrey wasn’t sure if he knew he was doing it. She noticed a few Boy Versions in the trash. “I just feel -- I don’t know.” He kept walking around in his dorm room.

“Sweaty?” she suggested.

Aubrey had only been in his room a few times, and was enjoying herself. Someday the joy of intruding on a man’s place would end. It would stop feeling cool, and sexy, getting an intimate side of his life. She would look around with jaded eyes and see unwashed towels, a computer chair, sticky bowls, various sour clothes. But for now it smelled intensely like Joshua, surrounded her with Joshua, and she was enjoying it.

He focused on her. Aubrey kicked her legs back and forth. The dress deserved some compliments, but the fierce, hot glow in his eyes was pretty close. Acquisitive. “I did all the workouts,” he admitted. He rubbed at his biceps. “I should be exhausted. I’m-- I feel like I should do them all again.” He grunted. “Harder. I kinda… want to do them again.”

A wrongness made its way into Aubrey’s pleasantly boy-focused head. An oddity. She pursed her lips -- what was she doing, dolling up for this stinky boy? Waiting patiently for a blowjob opportunity? A coherent thought started to ease past the new pink crystals and the general horniness: was something going on?

“Like who cares if you get built?” Joshua said. He traced an imaginary, cartoonishly large bicep. Aubrey’s new train of thought was derailed. As a girl it was her job to reassure and mollify men. No, that wasn’t right, was it? “I think either being a nerd or being a totally hot stud are both okay,” she heard her mouth say. Joshua snorted. But it did look like she’d helped him reach some sort of resolution. He traced his potential muscles, more fondly this time.

“But listen, you’re right that---” Aubrey struggled to redirect the conversation back. There was something primal in the air, something entirely other then university summer programs. Something super sexy, super totally fuckin hot.

But at that moment Joshua put his damp knee between her legs.

“So either is okay?” he said. His eyes approved of her dress. Another thought overrode the last one: girls were put on earth to calm down men. It’d be a gentler, more sensitive Earth if every man woke up to a tender, lengthy blowjob. She could drain all that aggression. It might even taste pretty good. He had worked through his indecision and emerged as a man, confident and aggressive. It was super hot, and she had helped. Aubrey felt really good about that. Feminism was… helping men? There was something there.

“You had me come over for talking?” she said, cocking her head. “About weights?”

She reached out and poked at the obvious cockhead running down his shorts.

He pulled his shorts down. Everything there was sparkly with sweat, and smelled like workout musk. Nervous, Aubrey practiced running her lips back, cautioned her teeth to stay out of it. “I didn’t JUST haul you over here to suck my dick.”

A spark of resistance returned. “If you want emotional support, tell me, so I don’t wear my nice dicksucking dress,” she said. Aubrey set up a standard: he had to compliment the outfit. Or she’d definitely, probably walk out of there, or at least actually make him go down on her.

“Its perfect,” he agreed, the lucky boy. Mentally she penciled it in: #3, stress relief. And not just for the man. As her mouth approached, slack-jawed, Aubrey was dimly aware of all her cares and concerns about pink drinks and excess blowjobs puddling into a gooey mess in her head. And then a big long cock got in there too.

JUNE 28th

“Men,” Professor Bee said. “Next!”

Aubrey tapped the next slide on the powerpoint deck. As a reward for winning Best Dressed in Feminist Theory [summer session] she was in charge of advancing the slides. So she was already aware that there were exactly one hundred and nine slides, they were all embedded jpegs of guys, and that was it.

They were, however, pretty hot guys.

“This is a clear 8.5, maybe even a 9,” Professor Bee said. With a laser pointer she circled a field of black chest hair. This particular man wore aviators and was posing by a pool. They were pretty much all like that. They were on slide thirty-seven and every single jawline up to that point had been fantastic. “Slide!”

Another hot dude, this time actually wearing a shirt. A tuxedo, it looked like, with the first three shirt buttons undone. “Man wearing clothes. Next slide!” There was some weird transition effect between slides, like a pink glitter-burst. It was kind of distracting. Aubrey was only staying cognizant because she had to hit the advance button. One of the other girls was drooling. There were a lot of GIRL VERSION bottles on the floor.

“Professor?” Anna had her hand up. “What are we… learning?”

Professor Bee sniffed, irritated, but Anna sounded completely sincere, even a little distraught. And Aubrey’s friend had done her very best with the new dress code. They all had. Anna wore a floral peach dress with a frilly hem. The dress only had one strap. And like the rest of them she wore brand new heels. Her only mark of caution was keeping them at a sedate one inch. And a simple natural look with the makeup, concealer and gloss.

“Feminism is about men, isn’t it?” Professor Bee said. “Ultimately?” She had outdone them all. Her dress had sequins in it, and was strapless in the back. They could all see as much side-boob as they wanted. She was flawless in platform heels. “We live in a man’s world. We cook for them, clean for them, want them, need them, they pursue us, we are their conquests… where was I? Yes. Men.”

Aubrey switched a slide forwards on general principles. This guy looked at the camera with a hint of a smile. The audience slid forward. A lot of the girls had their mouths open.

“Of course, that doesn’t mean men are better than us girls. Feminism is about equality,” Professor Bee idly circled this man’s abs with her laser pointer. “Or close to it. Women and men are basically equal. Or maybe with girls just a scootch below men. Like a lot actually, but you know, in the same general ballpark. Men.”

Men. Next slide. Where had she gotten all these sexy men? Anna tentatively put her hand down, like her question had gotten answered. It was nice to just sit back on a beautiful summer morning and look at pictures of dudes. The pink swirly thing happened again on screen.

“Slide, Aubrey!” Aubrey was really proud of her own outfit. It was super daring: she had decided to wear shorts. High-waisted olive shorts with a ruffle trim, and a very, very expensive top in red dots. It kept riding up. But that was fine, they were all girls there. And her undies matched. She’d gotten up early to do her makeup before class.

“Slide!” Aubrey blearly looked up. They were on slide 98. When had that happened? Quite a few girls seemed to rouse themselves, droplets of drool suddenly slurped up. There was an erect penis on the screen.

“Now this,” the laser pointer went completely wild. “Is a penis.”

There was an audible rustle. Girls crossing their legs, fidgeting, shifting their hips. Professor Bee turned back around, triumphant. Her tits swung with her. “Exactly. Exactly! Look at how it affects us! Oh my gosh, an erect cock is SUCH a THING, isn’t it ladies? Slide. Here we see one ejaculating sperm.”

Anna made a noise. She was the only one trying to look away, Aubrey noticed. The other girls not only were watching, their eyes, covered in mascara, surrounded by blush, were open extremely wide. Pupils had shrunk. That pink spray splashed across the screen, even without her clicking forward a slide. “Sticky, gooey stuff, isn’t it, girls?” Professor Bee’s tone had gotten hushed. “How does it taste? Anyone? Anna?”

“Bad,” Anna said. “Not good.”

“Swallow or spit?” Professor Bee’s voice was hushed. “Anna?”

“S-swallow,” Anna whispered. Aubrey tried without success to meet her friend’s eyes. Oh ho. Prissy grade-grubber had gotten her mouth rocked. And to be honest, Aubrey wasn’t sure how she felt about that, either. She hadn’t swallowed with Joshua or anything. Sucking his nice dick was all fun and games, but swallowing skeet was porno nonsense. She’d backed off and jacked him while he squirted onto her face. True, some had gotten on her lips. A lot had gotten everywhere. “It was… it was slimy.”

“Yeah,” Aubrey said, in support of Anna, half-hearted.

“True,” Professor Bee conceded. “Slide. But we have a solution for that these days!”

For the first time in one hundred slides, no man was on screen. Instead there was a small blue pill. “It’s made out of extracts!” Professor Bee exclaimed.

The girls clustered around Professor Bee as she handed out little plastic baggies with unmarked, unlabeled pills. “I am also disappointed in all these nails,” she said, disapproving. “Girls, a little paint says so much about your commitment level. Anyone can wear a dress.”

“Sorry Professor!” they all chorused, suddenly awkward and nervous in their dresses and skirts. Not a single patch of nylon or lycra. And no easy t-shirts. Everything was structured. They all eagerly took the blowjob pills, intent on drugging men.

“Professor?” the shortest girl in the class said, after everyone else had giggled off. Excepting Anna and Aubrey, hanging back by the projector. “I’m… having a little trouble with the assignment…” she leaned in nervously. She had pageboy black hair and the biggest boobs in the class. She wore a sweater that was too small. “...as a lesbian…”

“Oh! Of course!” Professor Bee smacked her head and reached back into her hot pink satchel. She emerged with a pink baggie. “Like we discussed!. But I expect you to lick twice as hard! These other girls have to handle a lot of boy in their mouths!”

“Thank you!” the girl took it, momentarily uncertain, before speeding off.

“And here’s yours, girls!” Professor Bee handed the last two baggies over.

“Whats in them?” Aubrey said.

“First of all, Aubrey, you had some VERY good questions today I thought! And your outfit is very cute!” Professor Bee reached out and ran a hand along Aubrey’s leg. It happened so fast that neither she nor Anna had a chance to react. Just a hand with wine-red fingernails lingering on Aubrey’s inner thigh. Ending with a reassuring pat on the knee. “Make sure you’re all nice and smooth, okay? SOCIETY expects it, and we musn’t let down society!”

“But…” Aubrey looked at her leg, uncertain. She gulped down another GIRL VERSION, eyes fixed. She’d already had three that day, and was sure they were already leading to weight gain. Her bra was taut. “Whats in them?”

“Herbs! Herbs and a few spices and some,” Professor Bee twirled a lock of blonde hair. “Chemicals and stuff. Keep studying! Remember, one before you blow the guy! Don’t worry about teasing him, they work REAL fast!”

“Herbs and spices,” Anna said. She shook her baggie.

“So they make the boys taste like KFC,” Aubrey said, examining her own bag. They weren’t even very good pills. There was a blue dust in the bottom as they flaked off.

“I mean… anything is better then…” They’d gone to the study hall. During the spring it was hushed tones by law. The books, four stories of them, loomed over in a crushing weight of silence. Summer had done away with it. There was a relaxed, fun atmosphere. Very fun. One of the guys had his girlfriend in his lap, staring at some video on his laptop. From the way she was moving her hips, it probably wasn’t a video lecture on physics.

“So who did you blow, my good friend Anna?”

“That MAN you gave my NUMBER to,” Anna snapped. “He just texted and a half-hour later instead of studying for my other classes I’m in my room with this man’s -- his dick was in my mouth! And then he came!”

“He didn’t warn you?” That was impolite. Aubrey made a note not to shop there. Although word was, the remainder of the books had been tossed for more super-cute outfits. She made a note to go shop there.

“No… I mean… he did…” Anna lost her heat. She looked at the floor again. One of the librarians flounced by. She was looking flirty in a tartan bodysuit, with a crisp white blouse underneath. If the study hall had still been quiet, her stiletto heels would’ve made quite a racket.

“I didn’t want to seem like a… bitch,” Anna concluded.

“Oh, Anna, its okay not to let a guy unload in your mouth!” But as Aubrey said it she was uncertain. Was it, actually, okay? She wasn’t super certain what she was learning in Feminism class, but closely attending to male needs seemed to be a big part of it. Hadn’t Professor Bee told them, at some point, that guys deserved to cum in a girl’s mouth? Did she dream that? It was fair, once she considered it. If a guy stopped fucking her, nearly at orgasm, she’d be pretty upset. And what was wrong with a little squirt? She already had a ton of cock in her face.

“I thought, what was wrong with a little squirt?” Anna said. “And OH my god. I gagged. It wasn’t the taste exactly it was -- there’s so MUCH of it! I didn’t know guys were so --”

“Powerful? Virile?” Aubrey tried to think of other words. These seemed a little bit much. But the only other word that kept coming to mind was “stallion”.

“You girls want some gum?”

One of their fellow students, and a boy. He had blonde hair he was just starting to grow out, and the start of a beard, and wore a Dragonball Z t-shirt. He held out two sticks of unwrapped gum, both of them a soft pink with a dust of what was hopefully sugar. Aubrey took a stick and popped it in her mouth and turned to Anna to ask if she should pop it in her mouth.

“Oh! Shoot!” she was already chewing, too. Anna also seemed disconcerted as she popped and chewed. Apparently feminism meant sticking whatever in your dumb girl mouth.

The boy watched them. “It’s for a marketing class,” he said. “I gotta give these to hot girls and see if it makes other people want them.”

Oh, well, if it was for HOT GIRLS. Aubrey’s reluctance melted right away. Something about a very simple compliment, from a boy, sizzled and spat on her red-hot libido. Perhaps part of feminism was learning to embrace compliments. She was hot, right? Chewing the gum felt good. A warm glow deep in her head. Now she owed the boy something.

“Oh… here! Take this pill,” Anna said, handing the boy one of Bee’s supplements. “Its for a class too! I’m guessing its about how women are conditioned to take things without question but men are--- oh you ate it.” The boy even dry-swallowed it. “Just one?” he said.

Both girls nodded.

“Let me get a picture for my class, maybe blow a bubble?” the boy picked his phone out. If Professor Bee was right, he was about to have mouth-watering, lip-smacking cum. Goku glowered at everyone from the boy’s t-shirt. He was definitely a brand new sophomore. Aubrey obligingly blew an enormous pink bubble. “Can you drop your shoulders?” the boy asked, angling his camera. Aubrey realized what he meant: show some cleavage. But that was what hot girls did. She obliged. They were feeling so swollen and cute lately.

Snap. He showed them the best one. Two girls in study hall, big pink clouds, lips puffing out, eyes blank, boobs obligingly displayed. Anna, of all people, put her hand on his arm, to see what it felt like. “Maybe a few more snaps?” she suggested. She popped her bubblegum.

JUNE 30th

Aubrey had no afternoon plans. Actually, she was aware, at some level, that she did in fact have another class. She had a full slate of summer classes. But it seemed more important to wander around campus and pop bubbles and twirl her hair and try and think about… stuff.

There was definitely something odd going on.

The problem was that each pop of her yummy gum exploded each and every realization she made. First: the dress code on campus had shifted, seemingly overnight. The loose sweaters and poorly-washed tights were all, all gone. Coltish long legs were everywhere, demurely emerging from very high mini, or very nice shifts, or some other near-hip brand-new outfit. And then -- but, snap, the gum made a crack and it was all lost in a sticky wad.

“Professor Bee,” Aubrey said, to remind herself. That seemed to help: by saying things out loud the words bypassed the big gummy wad in her head and went straight to her brain. True, she probably seemed a little spacey, but then most of the girls around had a dreamy, careless look. Unless they had a guy’s arm around their waist.

Seeprince College was not used to pneumatic co-eds prancing around in teeny tartan skirts. It was best known for its environmental program. Many graduates went directly to work for the EPA, US Forestry Service, state and local parks. Outdoorsy girls with deep tans and practical knowledge about fire-starting. And now they were…

...cute…

“Professor Bee!” Aubrey reminded herself again. “Gosh!” And then the woman herself crossed her field of vision. She wore a pink fuzzy sweater despite the heat that looked harvested from flamingos, a denim mini and ankle boots. It was unclear what occasion the outfit could be intended for. She walked with unusual purpose, unlike the other girls, who all seemed to be enjoying light afternoon breezes up their skirts. Aubrey stood, stock still, and then followed her.

Aubrey kept her head down, which meant she was looking right into the nestle of her cleavage. She’d foregone a bra -- it was digging into her back something fierce. Her boobs felt tender, swollen. Her nipples pointed right at the Professor, who disappeared into the science and math building, of all places. Here, was an outpost of masculinity, full of boys. At least half were shirtless, sweating, playing pickup basketball with a hoop bolted to the wall. The spectators were all female. They cheered wildly at a made basket, hopping up and down. No one seemed to be wearing bras anymore.

Aubrey followed. It wasn’t like Professor Bee was hard to trail -- her heels made a steady click-clack on the ancient tile. Bee slipped into a third floor lounge. As she was about to follow, a spindly man, quite bald, came down from upstairs. He carried a large boombox, one with extra wires and diodes and other gear roughly soldered to the exterior. She flattened herself against the wall.

“Ooh, wires,” Aubrey heard Professor Bee say. “You’ve done it again, John.”

John chuckled. Aubrey sidled right up to the door. “Harriet, you are looking pink and lovely.”

“Oh, mostly pink,” Professor Bee cooed. “You don’t need to flatter me. I have lots of people for that. Shall we see your newest invention, mister sir?”

“Should be fine for you at a low… low level,” John said. Music started up, just above hearing level. Like the sound of pop from three cars away. Aubrey strained to hear more. “And what is your summer project, darling?”

“Nothing,” Professor Bee said. She amended. “Of consequence.”

“Damien won’t like hearing that,” John said, and the amusement had already drained from his voice. “You know what he’s like. We’re here to work.”

“And for what? Our professional development? No. His plans. Turn the music up, John,” Professor Bee said. She struck a weary note. “I like it.”

John obliged. The vocals came through, a warbling pop princess against a generic techno beat. There was a stutter-stop to the music, between thumps, that made it very hard for Aubery to listen to the conversation, or even to stand up. Her thighs felt very hot.

“I know you have protections in place, but this IS bad for you,” John said. “It’s not subtle stuff. It’ll leave a girl a drooling, wet mess in no time flat. It works by---”

“Oh, John,” Professor Bee said, affectionately. “My protections. Do you remember when we met? I was a brunette with a rack like two peas on a platter. I was GAY. And now I’m all fluff and blonde trying to remember basic chemistry to make blowjob pills, licking my big fat lips…”

John laughed, nervous. Aubrey was barely able to listen to any of it. The music had swollen inside her head, like a wet towel. Every thought was overlaid with a bassline thump with a tinny girl twang. She could tell that her lips were singing along, even to the words she didn’t know. Her tits felt so heavy and red.

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” John said, solemn.

“You’re burning me out right now. You men, you can’t help yourselves. All I am in the end is tits and ass,” there was a long sigh. “I feel bad for my girls. I’m dutifully making them over and it feels so… routine. Come here. Let me get a taste.”

“I--” John sounded conflicted, not that Aubrey heard it. She had slipped her hand underneath her shorts and found her snatch. She toppled forwards, chin bouncing on the tile, barely feeling it. Her head was just noise and sensation. “I mean it.”

“I know you do,” Professor Bee said. Her voice went up a pleased octave. “Ooh, its even bigger. Can it do more tricks? I bet I can make it do tricks. Will you still want me when I’m just another cunt?”

“Harriet, I don’t want a mouth,” John said. “I want Harriet’s mouth.”

Long pause.

“John, you’re an absolute dear,” Harriet said. “And I must still have some protection after all.”

“Yeah?” John’s voice shook. It was easy for Aubrey to imagine what was going on in there. Mandatory, in fact. Harriet was running her hand along a nice fat dick, getting it slick and ready to fuck her.

“I have an idea,” Professor Bee said. “Alright.”

And Aubrey would’ve had her mind turned into a warm puddle of horny goo, if John hadn’t knocked over his radio, the very first time Professor Bee ran her tongue up and down his shaft.

Joshua was being no help at all. And to make matters worse, Aubrey couldn’t get a song out of her head. She’d woken up inside some faculty lounge, in a math building she’d never before visited, with only the most cursory memories. Some sort of tune etched into her mind -- she kept humming it, whenever she wasn’t disciplined enough to stop. Her fingers had been down her own shorts and half-frozen from lack of blood. They still tingled.

Actually she was tingly all over.

“Joshua, come on,” she whined. “There’s, I don’t know, some stuff going on! With boys and girls!”

To the casual observer, Aubrey realized, they probably looked like a lovey-dovey couple. Joshua had wrapped his hand around her as they walked. As they’d gone along he’d established, to his own satisfaction, that Aubrey wouldn’t say no to anything he touched. He’d ranged his palm to the curve of her rear, to her underboob, and she’d just squirmed and pressed in closer.

“No bra, huh?” Joshua said.

“Yeah, because my boobs are bigger! That’s what I’m talking about. And you’re all bigger too!”

“Muscles,” Joshua said. She caught a note of barely-concealed pride. Nonverbal cues and inflections were having to do a lot of the heavy lifting. Joshua was suddenly a lot less talkative. He was actually responding with grunts, much of the time.

“Can I see?” It was for research, Aubrey told herself. Joshua was happy to oblige. He was already wearing a taut mesh t-shirt. Underneath it his body had grown taut and rapid definition. His biceps, previously loosely wrapped ropes, were like belts of brass. He winked at her, at her obvious admiration. The song pounded in her head, reminding her: she was a pretty pink girl, a piece of pussy property…

‘Josh you’ve been working out for like, two days,” Aubrey said. Or weeks? Time was getting a little hazy. She wasn’t super sure what day it was.

“I crushed it yesterday,” Joshua said. “Fifty pushups. Or you know, ten reps of five, you can think of it that way. I ran all around the school five times. I’ve been getting into the protein powder, finished that jug off.”

The jug had been five pounds at least. That explained the scent -- Joshua smelled like a disturbing blend of chemicals and masculinity, mostly chemicals. It was like breathing in pre-workout. His sweat was clearly the wrong color. It was driving her body nuts. She wanted to lick him.

“You wanna see the real kicker?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Aubrey whispered back. In spite of herself, this was all terribly exciting. Not only was there a man next to her, he was a MAN. She was pretty sure he was taller, to boot. Or she was shorter. He made her feel very small and very weak and very, very feminine. Her knees kept trying to hit the ground. They needed to bend.

“You want to see, you gotta promise to suck my dick,” Joshua said.

“Oh, Josh, come on,” Aubrey whined. She pouted. “That’s so dumb. I’m not your suck toy, okay?”

He pulled out a BOY VERSION from his backpack and calmly chugged it, while Aubrey got her adorable tirade out of her system. He crunched the aluminum with one hand, tossed it into the bushes. There were already a dozen or so other empties. Blue drool ran out of his lips. “All done?” he said, patting Aubrey on the butt.

“Josh! This isn’t funny!” but it felt good to have his paws on her. Was even his hand bigger? At some level Aubrey was aware that her butt had additional padding as well. The dorm cafeteria had GIRL VERSION in the soda fountain, now. There was all sorts of yummy stuff, actually. Neatly color-coded, so you could figure out if you should get the pink girl spaghetti or blue boy spaghetti. “What is it? You gotta tell me, I need to tell the police or whatever!”

He cocked his head.

“Okay, FINE!” She slurped back some spit of her own. Her mouth tasted like cherries and sweet tarts. “Gosh!” At least she could add to her Feminism list. Number five: blowjobs made boys helpful. “What’s the big deal?”

They were lightly screened from passerbys, in an eddy of the campus. There was a big statue of the campus mascots, a Bobcat attacking a Falcon. But it was still public, so Aubrey felt a surge of apprehension when Joshua just let his dick flop out of his basketball shorts.

It was a big dick, though. “Two inches bigger, overnight,” Joshua bragged. “And thicker. I don’t know how thicker, probably a TON. I bet it was the situps that did it.”

“Oh Josh,” Aubrey sighed, staring at it. Her knees wanted to buckle. But this was part of it, wasn’t it? Whatever was -- whatever was GOING ON. It was so hard to stay properly focused on that important issue, she had to keep attacking it from the sides. Like how they were out in public and his dick was out in the open air and getting bigger. And how it was weird that her pubic hair had fallen out in the shower. And how her spit was noticeably thicker. “Its all wrong.”

“Yeah,” Joshua said, absent-minded. “Sure. Well, come on. Suck it.”

“Josh, no! It’s..” she stroked at it. To be fair to Joshua, she could understand being pretty jazzed about this new dick. It was a beautiful thing. Heavy and long, not just a standard prick but a substantial badge of male authority. It was heavy just to lift. Her mouth watered, inevitably. She had to -- had to --

“Well you gotta take one of these, at least,” she said, defiant. She’d kept the baggie handy in her purse. “It’ll make your cum taste good. That’s fair.”

Joshie took the bag and emptied every last of the dozen pills into his mouth.

He chewed them up before swallowing. Aubrey wasn’t sure what was worse.

“They’re good,” he reported. She watched him, open-mouthed. She’d only given one away. That was -- her head flared with pain at the math attempt -- like dozens of pills.

“There,” he said, handing back the empty bag. Resigned, Aubrey put her mouth on it.

“Oh, fuck,” Joshua said, moments later. “I don’t know if it was.. the pills or… no. You’re getting better at this. Shit. Look at you, sucking dick like a pro.”

Delight shook her, despite her concerns, and dripped out between her legs. Aubrey had been practicing pretty much nonstop. She’d nearly fallen asleep with a banana halfway down her throat. A bunch of the girls had gotten together after the last class to practice. She wasn’t super sure what the class had been about -- had Professor Bee played music for them? Her memories were so foggy lately. Especially with a very big cock in her mouth.

“Work the shaft a little more,” he instructed her. A butterfly nosed around, curious about the noise. It reminded Aubrey: she was really sucking this boy’s cock in public. She waited, patiently, for her overtaxed brain to come up with a reason why it was feministy and good. Eventually it provided -- it was good that girls could suck boys off everywhere, not just in rooms and such. Equal opportunity access to blowjobs.

“Damn, you’re much better,” Joshua said, tugging on her hair. It hurt in a kinda good way. That was a bit much, even for her, but she was too wet to worry about it. Boys got a little handsy during good blowjobs. Really it was a compliment about how well she was using her lips to create a tight seal. “I’m gonna cum.” Aubrey considered pulling off -- swallowing had to be earned, right? -- but by the time her mind formulated the intention it was too late.

The pills had already made some powerful and irreversible changes to Joshua’s body chemistry. All of that surged down into his testicles and added special commands and signals to what it found there. Inducing all sorts of fun changes in the girl’s body: a ridiculous set of curves, relentless libido, strong sense of obedience. It tasted incredible in her mouth, like melted down jolly ranchers.

It was too much flow, all at once. Aubrey broke free, coughing, overwhelmed. Cum still poured out of Joshua, onto the campus grounds. It was flecked with pink and blue specks.

He laughed at her, choking on his jizz. “Too much?”

He rubbed her head, affectionate.

JULY 7th

“And THIS,” Professor Bee instructed, “is a MAN.”

A few conscientious students wrote down “man” in their otherwise unused notebooks. Aubrey had never been a big notetaker, and her last few classes had just been a bunch of sexy doodles. In her last summer Biology class, before dropping out, she’d just drawn penises the entire time.

The Man sat on the table in the center of the classroom. He’d stripped to the waist and wore belted blue jeans. Every inch of the bits Aubrey could see were covered in some sort of hair. A scratchy rubble on his chin, dark black blades of hair on both forearms, and an untamed pelt all the way across his chest.

“Heya,” the Man said, to fifteen cooing students. A slick, slow smile rode across his face: a man confident he could fuck any one of fifteen pussies.

“Men signify power, strength… hundreds of different things like that,” Professor Bee said. Sixteen pussies, Aubrey amended. The Professor ran her laser pointer across the Man’s chest hair. “Their deep erotic power lies in their confidence and assurance!”

“That’s very kind of you,” The Man said. “This is a class?”

“Imagine there were fifteen men examining one topless girl. Does anyone think that girl could master the assembled boys with a look? The boys would be drawing up a schedule. And yet, one man can sweep his gaze across fifteen women and think: they are all MINE!”

Thirty-two thighs twitched. Thirty two nipples ached. The man laughed. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Maybe a little.”

They’d come a long ways, the class. Every single girl had passed Professor Bee’s inspection. Aubrey had gone with green nail polish on the toes, a cherry-pink on her nails, and had powdered and sculpted her makeup to near-invisibility. She was just eyes and matching lipstick, she knew. All in support of her scalloped, bouncing dress, which flared into nearly a tutu in a confection of stiff curls. It was orange-red. She’d curled her hair to match. Professor Bee had gasped when she’d seen it. “A vision,” she’d cooed, poking and prodding, making sure she wasn’t hiding too much tit. The outfit catered to Aubrey’s legs, but feminism was about the whole woman.

Anna was the only one to barely pass. She’d channeled bratty step-daughter with her usual flawlessness, but what she’d channeled was still a oversexed trashy teen. High-waisted jean shorts that looked like they chafed, too much makeup of all sorts, a spangly v-neck that emphasized side-boob. She’d even brought a packet of lollipops, which she was noisily sucking, at the Man.

“Alright, girls. How are you going to attract this man?” Professor Bee said, whipping her laser pointer back around. “You are one of fifteen! He could pick and fuck any of you! What makes you the one he chooses? Veronica!”

“Oh! Um... “ Veronica was the chubby latina of the class, or had been. It all seemed to be poured into curves, lately. She’d tried to stick to a semi-goth look of black lipstick, but had shown up finally in pink latex. “Hi. Sir.” She smiled at the man, who gave a friendly wave. “Um. Professor. I don’t know if you can see but I didn’t wear panties so… I just uncrossed my legs? Like in Basic Instinct?”

“Only seven of you are bothering to wearing panties,” Professor Bee said, shaking her head. The Man’s lips moved, counting. “I don’t think that will do it. Think outside the box, not with your box!” This was a new area of emphasis. Professor Bee had confiscated all of their many bottles of pink stuff on entering the classroom, and kept insisting that they think thoughts. Aubrey was finding it very difficult going. She’d taken to making notes for herself: 1. Escape town, 2. Blowjob homework, 3. Cute outfits. Otherwise it just went in and out her sex-stuffed head. “Anna?”

“Sir, I’ll fuck you, I’ll blow you. I’ll do anything you want,” Anna said, without hesitation. “Choke me. Fuck me. Squeeze me. Whatever.”

There was a long silence.

“Not bad,” the Man judged.

“Anna, you aren’t just a DOLL, you’re a woman!” Professor Bee said. “A… what’s the name of the class? Yeah, a feminist!”

“But he’s a man,” Anna said. It was an enormously effective rejoinder, and the unassailable logic of it was so apparent. He was a man, and they were soft silly girls. Even Professor Bee was left speechless. Sure, a girl could try complex outfits, or cute talk, or giggle, or any number of things, but, in the end, weren’t girls mostly a mouth and a few other notable holes?

No one said any of that. They all scented it. Only one of them was getting to suck the Man -- or at least get first go at a very long bulge in his jeans. Men tasted delicious now. They came in a variety of flavors.

“This is on me,” Professor Bee muttered. Anna shuffled onto her knees and walked forwards, mouth wide. Where many of them had lipstick, Anna had gone as hard into it as possible. Her lips were candy-wax red. The Man stood up and unbuckled his belt. His dick was just a bit less then a foot long. Aubrey’s good friend didn’t hesitate. Aubrey watched, disturbed. Was it possible that feminism was about being the best possible cock sleeve? It made a certain amount of sense. And then she could just stop trying to come up with lame escape plans that always leaked out her ears.

“Mmm… mmm,” Anna said, eyes wide. Her assurance ended when the Man started to roughly fuck her mouth. He went right down to the hilt straightaway, grabbing Anna’s hair for purchase. The class silently watched each bulge work its way down Anna’s throat. But after the initial surprise Anna was -- she was doing it. Licking and stroking.

Professor Bee walked stiffly out of the classroom.

But no one else. In fact, Aubrey envied the girls that had foregone panties. All of them were stroking themselves, and it was easier for some than for others.

JULY 11th

“Oh, Josh, come on, I think this is fun! We’re escaping!” Aubrey said. She was aware that her voice hovered right around a whine. Getting her vocal cords coated over and over had left them high-pitched and girlish, like she voiced a breakfast cereal mascot. “We’re really doing it!”

“Sure babe,” Joshua said. “We’re doing it. Great.”

It had taken all of Aubrey’s efforts and fading willpower to put together the expedition. Simply getting herself out the door had been an enormous struggle. She’d spent nearly a day planning the cutest and most perfect escape outfit, finally deciding on a defiant pre-summer pair of shorts and pre-summer t-shirt. Even that had been a mistake -- she was much curvier all over, and the khaki shorts kept riding up into her pussy. Hiking makeup had taken forever as well -- she’d needed a whole new set of yummy lip glosses from the student store.

But mostly, she’d struggled to get Joshua to come along. To be fair to him, he had little reason to leave. True, every so often he would lift out of a workout/blowjob haze, and get nervous at his filled-out body, his donkey-sized dick. A glimpse of the old Joshua, sharing a brief moment of fear with her. But mostly life for men was a pleasant routine of suck and lifting, interspersed with meat-heavy meals.

And as much as he fought to hold on to monogamy with her, it was clearly getting to be a struggle. Yesterday he’d brought her to the weight room so she could blow him while he lifted. He wasn’t getting any better, either. Nowadays he had Aubrey come over to read things to him.

“Joshie, slow down a bit, okay? Pretty-please?” At least he was powerfully built, and enormously energetic. Even with the chance to watch her butt wiggle in too-tight shorts, Joshua had forged on ahead. The surrounding area outside of schools was made up of scrubby trees and long, golden grasses. He didn’t wear a shirt.

They’d only gotten out the door when Aubrey realized she’d accidentally sent her Mom a picture of her pussy. She’d meant to send it to the class -- they were all sending each other pussy pics, on the grounds of normalizing that every wet cunt was beautiful. Mom hadn’t responded, either, which meant -- what? At any rate, Aubrey had used the resulting red-hot humiliation to finally make the attempt.

“Time’s up,” Joshua called back. “I’ll wait for you up here.” She’d only gotten him going by promising a blowjob every few minutes. As a result they were making very slow progress. Aubrey could still see university buildings behind her.

He already had his dick out when she rounded the next turn. Aubrey didn’t actually mind dropping to her knees -- it was hot out, her boobs were soaked in sweat, and her pussy was absolutely throbbing with need. Joshua had never been sexier. Sometimes she just ran her hands over his body, feeling his energy, the tension in his muscles. Her slit pulsed as she took his very warm dick into her mouth. Gasping, out of breath, she relied on her tongue and on slobber.

“You need to get in shape,” Joshua said, eyeing her. “Didn’t you used to run track or something?”

Didn’t she? Aubrey had vague memories of running a half-marathon, a few months ago. Now she was all curves and sweat, probably twenty pounds heavier with tits and ass. Joshua unloaded in her mouth. She sucked it down, grateful. It was important to stay hydrated when on the trail.

“Okay, lets keep going,” Joshua said. At least he was committed, or at least dog-like, intent on the path. “Stop rubbing yourself. I want to be back before five, its leg day.”

“We’re not -- we’re escaping,” Aubrey wheezed. Blowjob list number seven: hydration. Or was it eight? She needed to wrap the escape attempt up too. She had class early tomorrow.

They found the girl around the very next turn, when they had finally left the last brick-red college building behind. Someone had pitched a tent by the trail, secured it with tent pegs, and then scattered a ton of trash around it. A very sunburned girl with very bright blonde hair squinted at them as they came around. She wore the same kind of overstuffed, overstrained khaki shorts as Aubrey, and an unwashed t-shirt that looked very stiff.

“Oh, another girl,” the blonde said. “Oh, thank goodness, oh my gosh. Can you help me?”

Aubrey stopped only reluctantly. She only had a few minutes until it was blowjob time again, and they’d only gone about thirty feet from the last one. Joshua’s cum production was inexhaustable. He tasted like a refreshing soda, most of the time, but his pill overconsumption had left him unpredictable. Sometimes he even tasted like chocolate.

“We’re kind of busy escaping?” she said, as politely as possible.

“Oh, Oh! Me too!” the blonde said, eagerly. “Because of the -- the thing where everyone was getting horny and dumb? That thing?”

Joshua eyed the girl’s legs with interest. “Who are you?”

“I’m Professor --” the girl squeezed her eyes shut. “Professor… I’m a Professor! I tried to get out too but I got super lost and I’m pretty sure the sunlight makes my titties grow and now I’m all stuck!”

“Lets see the titties,” Joshua said, immediately. The blonde complied cheerfully, pulling her shirt up. They were sun-kissed for sure, big funbags that even mad-science chemicals couldn’t keep up. They rode around her belly button. “SUPER hard to walk with these,” Professor said, jiggling them.

Aubrey eyed the path. They really, really needed to keep going. It was gonna get dark soon, and they were still a long ways away from the entrance to the actual trail, as opposed to the campus circuit.

“The men’s track team comes by and lets me, you know, they’re very nutritious, but I’m super thirsty and sooo hungry!” Professor said. She actually did look bad. Aubrey peered inside the tent. She’d brought a lot of books with her -- a sign of intelligence, or not bright to bring on an escape trip? An open journal was on the ground. It was depressingly familiar -- doodles of dicks. She sighed.

“Here,” Aubrey said, unzipping her backpack. She’d brought twenty bottles of GIRL VERSION and a spare pair of socks.

“Oh, I love this stuff! It’s really good for titties!” Professor said, grabbing a bottle. Joshua’s alarm sounded. They watched the camper slurp down one pink-filled bottle, then another, her mouth all the way down the neck.

“Babe, this is the last one, then I gotta get back,” Joshua said. He grabbed Aubrey’s head to manuever her. In spite of everything Aubrey was grateful: even with these dumb lost slut with her enormous tits out, he preferred her well-worn mouth.

“Sure,” Aubrey said, defeated. At least they’d saved someone’s life, perhaps.

JULY 18th

“Keep chopping, ladies,” Professor Bee said, encouraging. She was resplendent in her signature deep plunging V blouse, this time in a mottled green. She’d opted for terry cloth shorts, the back not bothering to cover her thick thighs. As a point of pride her heels were still higher than anyone else’s, which meant, today, a towering six inches. She walked in perfect comfort. Other girls kept falling over, which was bad, as they were learning to cook for men.

Professor Bee had explained it all in her comforting sing-song. “You need to bring more to the table, girls!” she’d exhorted. “Literally! Can you fix a truck?”

“No!” the girls sang out, as conditioned, still chopping up ingredients. They’d commandeered the dorm kitchen and clacked in on a number of high heels.

“Can you lift every grocery bag in one go? Run a country? Read a book?”

A chorus of feminine “No!”s rang out, accompanied by clanging pots and the occasional shriek. They all had long nails with swirly designs from the new salon in the chemistry building. Very swirly -- just looking at them made Aubrey feel pretty spacey. She was staring at her new purple-pink whorl during the explanation. “Huh? Books?”

“Don’t stop!” Professor Bee had shifted focus. Gone were the sessions of videos and photos of cute boys with bulging dicks. Now they were being instructed in more practical femaleness. Cooking, cleaning, sucking, fucking, sewing, every possible womanly art. Aubrey had dropped every other class since she was spending ten to sixteen hours a day learning feminism. Well, not literally dropped. She’d just stopped attending.

“Mmmm, let me get a taste,” Robin gave Aubrey a deep, thorough kiss in passing. Professor Bee was very understanding of their girly needs. Every girl had a big long vibrator in her bag, and was allowed to spend an hour or two or three using it. And of course, in such close quarters, there was some sapphic stuff going on. That was an important skill too, and really fun.

Of course, they still had their homework. Some of the girls would just go out during breaks and find someone to blow, returning with pink, happy cheeks and fuzzy heads. Not Aubrey. As all-encompassing as the course was, she still kept having rare, non-sexy thoughts. They’d just bubble up out of nowhere: “don’t listen to Professor Bee, Aubrey.” “Aubrey, don’t let her do this.” “Don’t be a total slut, Aubrey.” Disconcerting moments, where she’d feel the draft on her bare butt and think -- why aren’t you wearing panties? Aubrey?

Robin’s tongue lingered in her mouth. Professor Bee encouraged these moments. She’d had Robin guest lecture about all sorts of interesting girl-on-girl stuff -- Aubrey had learned a ton about her own anatomy. It turned out that almost every girl had a unique, almost signature pussy. Each had its own geometry and innies and outies and bends. They’d shared pictures. Robin was getting pretty familiar with all of them. Aubrey had always been a little ashamed of her prominent labia. Robin had taught her: it was adorable. She loved licking it.

“Look who it is,” Robin whispered, into her ear. Aubrey paused, thoughtful. Anna leaned on the doorframe, taking a recovery moment. She wore either white or beige outfits almost as a rule, today a short puffy skirt that was nearly a dirndl. She looked tired, not to mention the big white glob of cum stuck to her hair. While Aubrey had fought hard to remain essentially faithful to Joshua, sticking to fingerplay and Robin, Anna had gone quite the other way. Sometimes it was hard for her to talk, her mouth got so sore.

“Anna,” Even Professor Bee was disapproving. A good feminist, she now lectured, was more then just a jizz bucket. True, if a man needed a bucket a Bee-trained girl was watertight. But there was much more to a girl than sucking dick, probably. Anna wasn’t even well-dressed, and rarely bothered with makeup. It was almost a rebuke to the program, that she just went out there and got her face fucked.

Anna held up her plastic bag, emptied of pills. “Can I get another set?” she said, voice slurring. Perhaps as a side effect, she had the plushest lips out of all of them, and everyone was looking fairly bee stung. Anna was taking it to a different level. She neglected foundation, concealer, eye shadow, et cetera, but probably went through four tubes of lipstick a day. “Just now? The boy? He tasted like peanut butter and pixie stix.”

“Get Anna out of this,” another one of those cold, clinical thoughts surfaced. Aubrey turned away. She hadn’t spoken to her friend very much in the past -- however long it had been. They had feminism class every day. Aubrey was kinda sure it was actually Sunday.

Bee and Anna matched glares, or tried to. Anna was unsteady after a few healthy loads. Their philosophical differences had divided the class. Anna’s girls mostly wandered about, notching up numbers, dizzy and dripping. They were disdainful of Professor Bee’s diehards, a bit flatter, who sometimes let jism drip out of their mouth, who sometimes wore underpants.

Professor Bee relented, handing over another baggie filled with blue pills. Aubrey hadn’t refilled her own allocation. After her marathon escape attempt with Joshua she had woken up in his bed a full two days later, caked with his cum, and needing to pee beyond belief. Her tits had been a full two sizes larger, and her hair was a bright beachy blonde. Aubrey had tried to leave campus one other time, but gotten kinda turned around near the student store, eventually escaping into the swimwear selection for some fun beach outfits.

“Get to work, my naughty little cocksucker,” Professor Bee said, relenting. She bonked Anna on the head with a wooden spoon. She couldn’t stay mad at a really good dicksucker. It did bother Aubrey that she had no idea when her homework was due. She’d added two more entries to her blowjob list: ‘big boobs’ and ‘yum’. But she had three to go and no good ideas.

Someone else appeared in the doorway.

Professor Bee dropped her spoon.

The sexiest man in the world was there.

The sun wasn’t behind him, so the nimbus of light at his back didn’t make a lot of sense. Aubrey had a hard time looking at the man at all -- her instinct, her overpowering desire, was to stare at the patch of ground directly in front of the man’s feet. Maybe even lick it. By squinting, and ignoring the pounding in her chest, and the absolute juicy flood that was her pussy, she could see that he was wearing casual slacks.

The other girls had all stopped moving entirely. They had adopted various poses to indicate a sort of complete and pure submission. Slumped shoulders, eyes cast down, knees bent, chests heaving. Almost all of them had their hands crossed and folded, like a bunch of nuns who were, also, really horny.

Professor Bee was the one exception. She kept trying to force her eyes up. It was obviously costing her -- her forehead was twitching, and she was panting, chest heaving. “Hi Damien!” she said. “Can you -- turn it down?”

“No, I can’t,” Damien said. It was perfectly reasonable and logical, whatever it was he said. “I need to keep it on full blast to improve. As are we all. You can handle it, right?”

“I’m sure my uh… my uh…uhhhhhh... cerebellum. Can take a little more for the team.” She gave up, examining the ground. Professor Bee’s eyes were watering fiercely. The word retrieval issue, Aubrey could tell, had bothered her.

‘I see you’ve got the girls cooking? I thought you were working on boy-girl feedback loops. With a pill approach?”

Professor Bee struggled to get her eyes back up. “I did that easy. Look, animals are easy, classy broads are hard. Don’t you want more than mouth pumps?”

“Mass production--”

“Oh, Damien. You men are still going to need someone to cook.”

A note of amusement infiltrated the god-king. “Alright. Perhaps. Harriet, I’ll see you at the presentations.”

He turned and left.

But before he did, he casually turned around, and said:

“Cum, sluts.”

And they all did, just like that. Aubrey happened to hit the ground, legs shaking, starting the best orgasm of her entire life, just perfectly situated to watch Professor Bee right there with them, her tits shaking as she curled up, riding it just like every other dumb bimbo, which was all of them.

AUGUST 10th

“Anna, come onnnnn,” Aubrey whined. “I think we should do an escape or something? It’ll be fun! We’ll just get in a car and we’ll drive… off!”

She hated the way her voice kept losing composure, not to mention climbing several octaves. And it kept coming out with a question mark attached.

In her head Aubrey still had a picture of the ideal, feminist woman. She was certainly big-boobed, her chest tied down with a big bow, her hair long in beautiful blonde waves. She was a hot fuck for sure with total confidence in her ass, her mouth, her anything. But she also strutted on big black heels and could seduce a man with an arched eyebrow. She wore long, beautiful dresses, and not just cum-spattered cutoffs. Definitely she didn’t resort to a nasal whine every few sentences.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Anna said. She had her legs up on the wall of Aubrey’s room. Her skirt had flipped down to show her snatch. Two boobs wobbled in her face, and she had her hands behind her head, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s summer. Summer is what all this stuff is all about. We’re 21 or 22 or something, this is like, peak hotness for us. Everything’s totally fine.”

“How many cocks have you sucked today?” Aubrey said, persisting. She kept trying to get through to Anna. In truth, she had no further plans to get out of town. It seemed so daunting for a young woman to go on that kind of adventure. But it would be nice if one person took her seriously.

“I don’t know. Four… five. Ten or whatever.”

“You think that’s FEMINIST?” Aubrey said. She tried to load it up with her old, sarcastic self. But that was hard to find. That hard-charging feminist in her head wouldn’t struggle just to sound ironic. And she’d certainly march out of a town that Aubrey was 70% sure was doing stuff to her boobs.

“Aubrey, baby, it’s super duper feminist as fuck,” Anna said, with complete confidence. She held up her phone. “I’ve got the number of every boy in school. They want me, they need me. Feminism is about having the hottest mouth in town. I’m getting an A+ in this class whether Bee likes it or not.”

“Anna---”

“I did four boys at once yesterday,” Anna said, sitting up. “AT ONCE. One in my mouth, one I jerked off, one in my pussy, and I don’t remember what number four did. Something. You know what that’s called, slut-butt? Power.”

Aubrey gave up. She cast a dismal look around her room. Nothing in it felt powerful in any way. Her clothes were in a disheveled heap on the floor, loosely sorted by color. Plastic trash filled in any other gaps. Mostly GIRL VERSION, which was now freely dispensed from all soda fountains, and specially marked drinking fountains, as well. Almost everything on campus now arrived in brightly colored and ambiguously labeled packages, including the fruit. Aubrey had been thrilled to find a package of apples at the cafeteria. They’d been doused in a sugar-pink sauce and tasted, just like everything else, like sugar-chems. She’d licked the package clean.

“Professor Bee is mad at you,” Aubrey said.

“Fine. I should be teaching that class,” Anna said. “I don’t know WHAT her deal is.” She sniffed. “Aubrey it smells super good in here.”

The room was thick with Joshua cum.

She’d developed a difficult relationship with the stuff. On a very obvious level it was the most wonderful stuff in the world and she couldn’t get enough of it. On the other hand, it was like drinking from an air hose, and left her giggling and useless for minutes or hours or days or whatever. At least Joshua didn’t mind when she pulled loose, unable to handle any more. He always had more. He’d soaked her carpet through and painted the walls a number of times.

Someone pushed on the knob.

“It’s open,” Aubrey said.

Someone thumped the door.

“IT’S OPEN, JOSHUA!” she yelled.

Joshua kicked the door open. He didn’t seem mad -- it was just simpler than figuring out the knob. He was shirtless, broad enough to have to edge through the doorframe. Every time she saw him Joshua had added more muscle to an already-built frame, like another oil wash on a Rembrandt. His eyes had, unlike the rest of him, gotten softer, simpler. He had a low-lidded gaze that only rarely tightened into intensity.

“Joshie you broke the dang door,” Aubrey said.

“Sorry. I got like, ten minutes. Final exams are coming up,” he was already pulling his shorts down. As always he was bathed in sweat. Anna watched all of this with interest, licking her lips. Her puffy lips were the top of their class, and Aubrey wasn’t even sure she could close her mouth.

“We’re planning our next escape, Joshie,” Aubrey said. “Remember?” They’d planned the next one all out in detail, the last time he’d been over. Joshua had run out of protein powder, temporarily, and Aubrey had felt unusually with it after finding a box of forgotten energy bars in her closet. So they’d found a little brain space to plan another go. He was going to put her on his back and they were going to run for it. Simple and effective.

“Hi Joshie,” Anna said. She slipped off the bed and settled herself on the floor, in one of the few clean patches.

That was HER pet name, and Aubrey resented it getting appropriated. And certainly that Anna was settling in to blowjob position. Joshua was hers. They had been through a lot that summer, growing a lot of new urges and erogenous zones, but had stayed exclusive. It was her biggest accomplishment.

“I thought you wanted to finish your exams before we tried again,” Joshua said, playing for time. It was taking him a long while to assess situations. “You gotta finish your homework, right?”

She was stuck at number eight on her blowjob list. Or maybe it was nine. Number seven was “fills up time,” which was true. As an experiment Aubrey had put a stopwatch by the bed and let Joshie fill her to the absolute brim, as much as her tummy could handle of his never-stopping cum. When she woke up it was a full day later, and her butt no longer fit even in her new panties.

He stood on a bare patch on the carpet. Aubrey’s foggy head slowly recalled: right, that was the blowjob spot. They kept it clear just for him, so he had a good spot to stand while she worked his rod. It was right next to the bedstand, so he could grip the knob for balance. Or flip her onto the mattress and have her suck upside down, eyes getting drizzled on. Something else he said eventually occurred to her.

“What do you mean, again?” Aubrey said, worried. She’d slipped onto her knees as well, although Anna was closer. They were both getting into full blowjob mode. It was semi-automatic, their stance nearly identical. Knees braced and set at an angle, hands on thighs, mouth brimming with a heavy drool. She wore a ringer t-shirt that was cut well above midriff. She couldn’t see them, but Aubrey was well-aware they showed the bottoms of her tits. It was a cute look.

“Baby, we already tried escaping like, three times, remember?” Joshie said, patronizing. “The last time we got like, a mile, and then we had to turn around because we both forgot our driver’s licenses.”

It was coming back to her, gel-slow, like everything. Anna took the opportunity to stick her hand in Joshua’s shorts, pulling out, unreeling even, a monster cock. Josh’s cheeks puffed up with real pride. It was the biggest in his class, apparently.

“Anna, he’s my…” she couldn’t bring herself to say boyfriend. “He’s MINE.”

“Aubrey it is very feminist to share,” Anna said, disapproving. She started to stroke, not that Josh needed the excuse to get to full mast. Fully erect it looked like a forearm and was already starting to drip. He produced in quarts, and apparently could out-squirt any other guy he knew. “Just get in here, we’ll do this together, uh huh?”

“Anna, what happened to you?” Aubrey said, starting her slow waddle. “To… to us… we’re all… spunked. Just spermy all the time. We’re not large and in charge, we’re just… barrels.”

“No!” Anna insisted. “Look, I can make him bark if I wanted to. This is dy-am-ism, Aubrey!”

It was probably true. When fully erect Joshie was pretty nonvocal and frankly pretty stupid. Aubrey theorized that there was only so much blood to go around. Once horned up he was mostly good for thrusting and squirting. More hazy memories surfaced -- right, he had crashed his car during their latest escape, while she was kneading his balls.

“Yeah, but what about me? What about us?” Aubrey said. She had ended up right next to Joshie. His dick hovered around both faces. “Aren’t we friends?”

Josh took the decision, if they had one, out of their hands. Annoyed by how slow his sluts were, he picked one at random and shoved his cock into her mouth. Reflexes and programming took over. She started to suck. Eventually, later, he’d realize it was Anna.

There was a note of regret somewhere deep in Anna’s eyes, but most of her was busy concentrating on the many tasks and movements of delivering a world-class blowjob to a foot-long cock. It took every ounce of focus she could muster, and was even more challenging with the most cum she’d even swallowed already jetting down her throat. So she didn’t at all see Aubrey race out the door, sobbing.

“I’m quitting the class, and being a girl, and everything,” Aubrey sniffled. “No more penises, none!”

Professor Bee’s office wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Aubrey had figured on a plush pink palace, chintzy couches upholstered in velvet and velour. Perhaps some small adorable dogs paddling about, a large naked man lounging playfully on a chaise. Champagne in a bottle, posters of naked French ladies on the wall. Instead it was -- chemically.

There was still a broad mahogany desk, although pushed roughly to one side. But the rest was basins, stainless steel counters, crocks and vials with bubbling liquids in them. Any number of burners. Professor Bee was in the midst of all of it, in a lab coat.

It reassured Aubrey that the lab coat was pink. And her boobs had never been bigger -- they were half-out in an old MIT t-shirt that couldn’t even cover her nipples.

“Oh no,” Professor Bee said. She pulled up her goggles, and for a second rested both hands on the countertop. There was a merest suggestion of a possibility of a wrinkle on her perfect forehead. Then it was gone, and Bee was patting Aubrey into a set of matching armchairs. They were, at least, a little bit pink, a pale shade of rose. It was reassuring. “Here Aubrey.”

She snapped open a compact right underneath Aubrey’s nose. A little shake, and a rubble of powder in the same pale rose poofed into a cloud. “Sniff,” Professor Bee ordered. She sat back, eyes bright.

Aubrey hadn’t disobeyed an order of any kind in weeks. She huffed it in. She felt a strange hot-cold flash, and then the most overpowering need to sneeze. It came out in an unladylike blast, long enough to make her gasp, and when she was done, she’d sneezed an entire handful of boogers. They were hot neon pink.

“That should make you feel bett-- well, a little more with it.” Professor Bee handed her a handkerchief. “I’m almost out of that stuff. Barely works on me anymore. Look at these tits, they’re two cup sizes bigger since we got here!”

Aubrey sat back. She was -- what was she wearing? A stretchy lycra top with the same plunging v-neck Professor Bee preferred, a few scraps of bouncy blue fabric around her waist. No bra. Her face felt heavy with different kinds of makeup. And her tits -- where had they come from? She had sensible boobs, not the cow-jugs just below her chin. They weren’t Professor Bee’s melons, but they weren’t half-bad.

Joshua roughly fucking Anna’s mouth floated through her head. She broke into fresh tears. It was nicer not to be able to think stuff.

“Professor -- Professor I --- we need to ---”

“Shhh, relax, sweetie,” Professor Bee said. “I know its a lot, isn’t it? Those boys are so hard on us girls! They think they can smile and wink and make us into brainless cow breeders just because they don’t like being told to stop. But that’s why we need feminism, so we can say: no. We draw the line at horny big-boobed sluts. Because we matter.”

“I don’t…” Aubrey was having trouble with words. Already the post-sneeze clarity was fading, her body busy replacing a lost set of wonderful chemicals. And it didn’t help that Professor Bee kicked off one heel and put her foot right into Aubrey’s slit. She wore pantyhose, and it felt very good. “Ohhhhhhhhh Professor.”

“I used to be Doctor, and I think I got demoted,” Professor Bee said, digging her toes in. Aubrey slumped into the sensation. What a summer it had been. “Oh Aubrey. You’re my best student, you know? You’re not the smartest and your tits are frankly just okay, but you try harder than anyone. Shouldn’t that mean something? These boys just don’t understand. So busy trying to take over the world.”

“Ohhhhh,” Aubrey said. She tried to pay attention. Whatever was going on sounded important. But the foot felt so good, and Professor Bee’s syrupy soothing voice was so calming. “I need to… go.”

“Where? Oh, Aubrey, Aubrey… you’re such a GOOD feminist.” Professor Bee punctuated it with a sharp thrust of her big toe. A new pink haze descended over Aubrey’s vision. “You’re gonna be my A student tomorrow, aren’t you? You’re the one who listened to me. And I owe this to you.”

“I haven’t… done my homework,” Aubrey gasped. It felt impossible, how far Professor Bee had penetrated. She was only dimly aware of spreading her legs so wide the leather on the armchairs protested.

“I’m sure we can get you some more extra credit,” Professor Bee said. She flicked her big toe. All of Aubrey was sensitive, but it found the right spot, even so.

AUGUST 11TH

The end of summer classes, and final exam night.

Not everyone had made it through the class. Aubrey had seen Susanne in one of the art buildings, sitting on a pedestal, wholly motionless, fully naked. Someone had covered her with panels of bright colors, although pink was prominent. Carolyn was simply gone. There were rumors that Taylor had gone home to bring pills and drinks and special pop music to her small, rural town.

But lots of girls remained, and they were all the best feminists they could be. For their final exam at the Faculty Club Professor Bee had handed them all the same slip of paper, and gently read it out to those poor girls who were struggling. “Serve men,” it said.

How to serve men, that was the question.

“Service men,” Anna explained, to her group. She’d kept her straight-back demeanor despite having the biggest, puffiest lips out of all of them. She sounded like a rubber doll learning to talk. And Aubrey had certainly noticed she couldn’t read anymore -- Aubrey had needed to read the sheet to her. “That’s what it, um, means. Service as many men as you can. It’s what we’ve been learning all summer.” She wore, of all things, a pair of black tights. Anna was barefoot, and her biggest fashion move was a bustier that pushed her tits out into a sort of cum shelf. She’d clumsily drawn a few arrows on her cheeks, leading to her mouth.

“I don’t think so,” Robin demurred. “I think she means like, drinks.” Robin had gone for an all-pink cocktail waitress motif, including a t-shirt for a fake Hooters-derivative that was her own design. A faux restaurant named TITTIES!. Plus daisy dukes. “Maybe suck SOME dicks.”

“Men only want one thing,” Anna said. About half the other girls nodded. It was a true gamut of women, the full spectrum. Anna wasn’t even the dumbest, sluttiest bimbo. Sheri wore only a blue bikini and hadn’t bothered to take a shower in some time.

“Alright, girls,” Professor Bee said. She was dressed in a pink suit-dress, and had her hair up. It was all very formal, and the jacket even included black velvet piping, although her skirt didn’t cover even half of her rear. “Make me proud.”

She opened the pen.

There were a lot of gods there.

Not all-consuming beacons like Damien. Nothing was like Damien. But men of -- power. Men who were more then men. For the briefest moment, before it kicked in, Aubrey could see them as a collection of older men in cheap sportscoats, mostly bearded, mostly goatees. But that lasted only until their eyes lingered on her, and she realized: they were important, and she was not.

It was a lot, the calculating stare of so many demigods. Sheri whimpered and came right away, shaking in her bikini, dooming herself to an F-. All the girls felt shaken. Professor Bee led the remainder to a drinks station in the corner, where a bartender, somewhat demiy-goddy himself, gave them a winning smile.

“Okay ladies, grab a tray, mingle, go for it,” Professor Bee said. The bartender had set out a round of shots for them -- all filled with the pink of GIRL VERSION. Professor Bee hefted one. “Gonna need this,” she said, staring at it. They drank together.

Aubrey picked up a tray of clear drinks and made her way, first, into the crowd of kings.

There was one she recognized, and it felt right to angle her way through. The faculty club had stacked its comfortable, aging chairs up against the wall, to make more room for displays on long tables. In part they were boring sets of figures and equations on white posterboard. But most had some sort of naked or half-naked woman as part of the display. John had a girl at his, sitting in a chair, masturbating furiously with a pair of headphones on her head. Her eyes rolled all about.

“Gonna need this,” John said, grabbing and draining one of Aubrey’s glasses. It was some clear fluid and seemed to be gin-based. She was a little curious about what it tasted like. She couldn’t remember drinking something non-pink.

“No tip?” Aubrey said, casting her eyes down John’s body. He didn’t have the disconcerting glow of so many other men. He wore a tatty paisley bow tie and oversized khaki pants, and was easy to look at.

He laughed, uncertain. “Harriet is making a point, I see. I don’t think I’ve heard a double entendre from a woman in... well… Candace here isn’t about to tell jokes.” He glanced over at his test subject. The woman’s head jerked about, roughly treated by the music. She kept thrusting her hips at nothing. “And I can only see a little tit. Remarkable.”

Aubrey’s outfit was, as far as she could tell, the least revealing one in the room, and that included Professor Bee. She wore fishnet stockings and a tuxedo-themed one-piece, a throwback 1950s outfit. She’d topped it with classic playboy bunny ears, borrowed from the Professor, who had trunks of really fun stuff in the back.

John decided to manhandle her. His approach was disappointingly clinical -- assessing her ass for firmness and hoisting her tits. “This is just a standard Parz profile,” he murmured. “Regulation body. Is there something special with your tongue?”

Aubrey ignored it. She wasn’t sure if she could roll her eyes at a man, but it would’ve been the right time to check. “You’re getting her all nice and soft?” she said, nodding at the woman stuck underneath the headphones. The girl was barely rubbing herself anymore, slumped down in her chair.

“Y-yes,” John said, with another uncertain laugh: how did this stupid bimbo know about that?

“Are you playing Pretty Pink Pussy for her?” Aubrey said. She could still hear the song, every time she was in the shower. She leaned in close to John’s ear, and returned the manhandling favor, gripping his dick under his cheap pants. “It’s my favorite. I like to fuck to the beat.”

She felt the man twitch under her palm, and stroked twice just to make it extra-memorable. And then she was off, shaking her ass. She might just have a regulation bimbo butt, but he was still watching it as she crossed the room.

The men were all very interested to see her. They stopped what they were talking about to cop a quick feel, they took drinks. Some of them even gave her a respectful thank-you nod, which made Aubrey quietly weak at the knees. She was doing her best to put on a brave, sultry face, but they were still men, and she was, underneath the brave womanly facade, just a silly slut.

But that was what feminism was about: even silly dumb cunts could do their very best.

The men really appreciated showing her their little posters and serums and mechanical devices. “You see, the theme is Mass Production,” yet another man said, sipping her drink, his arm around her, assessing rear firmness. “Not really a theme. More like a… mandate.” He had red hair streaked with grey, and a sloppy auburn mustache. “You know we’re making you into a bimboslut, right?”

“With big juicy tits,” Aubrey said, jiggling them. After her talk with Professor Bee she had pretty much given up on the whole, running away thing. Go where?

“And how does that make you feel?” Redhead asked. Like the other men, he seemed genuinely interested. Of course that didn’t stop his hands from checking the merchandise. He withdrew his fingers from between your legs. “You’re dripping pink, after all. Really, how do you feel about all THIS?” Aubrey was taken aback by that -- even her pussy was neon? But she did what they all liked. Leaned in close to their ears.

“I like it…….fine,” she whispered. The man shivered, delighted. He let Aubrey suck on his fingers. It turned out that she herself tasted like cotton candy airheads. Not as good as Professor Bee, who tasted like expensive sour cherries. But in the right direction.

The class were all circulating, but fewer and fewer. Unattached coeds tended to get snapped up and used for impromptu demonstrations. Justine was bent over a table, her plump ass exposed, getting occasionally prodded by some glowing wand. Whatever it was, it made her cum with each touch. Sandra was sucking at the tit of some Mom-aged woman with wheelbarrow tits, milk running freely down her face.

Anna was one of the few girls left. Not for any good reason, Aubrey noticed. She’d just plunked her tall self in front of the bathrooms and opened her mouth. On the theory that what men wanted most was a receptacle. But she was getting few takers -- there were better treats on offer then a standard mouth over by the potties. And these were men that could get blowies in buckets.

“It’s a relatively slow process,” the next man told her. A minority of the boys seemed to truly only care about their gizmo, although perhaps they were temporarily well-sucked. This contraption was a streetlight, circulating between red-yellow-green. “Which is why you can stare at it with just minor attention scatter and some light hornies. But there are millions of street lights across the world. Paired with a radio transmitter for brainwash? You can get real scaling. Am I getting through to you? How dumb are you?”

“Red light, sir,” Aubrey said, with mock hurt. She tittered. “Pretty dumb though.” Aubrey made a move designed to get his eyes on her tits. “Green light,” she used, for the whisper. He smiled, delighted.

Hopefully the night ended soon. She was frankly running out of brain power for the witticisms. Professor Bee had given her star pupil her last dose of nose powder, and it was swiftly running out.

Radiance arrived in the doorway.

They were in a long ballroom of roughly-hewn timbers, apparently hacked from the forest that previously occupied the University site. Men and their assorted girls filled the space from end to end. It was a fair number of people, and many of them were having sex, if only for demonstration purposes. Nonetheless, the room fell quiet.

Out of the corner of her eye Aubrey saw one of Anna’s rare patrons pop out of her mouth and zip back up. In fact the only noise was from John’s girl with the headphones on, who was noisily orgasming in an unhealthy way. Damien walked over.

“Can I listen?” Damien said, to John. The actual, real god gave a warning glance to the others. There was a half-hearted effort to resume old conversations.

“Of course, of course!” John said, darting for the headphones. The girl didn’t seem to notice they were gone, rubbing herself with her legs far apart. “Sound-based approach. The volume controls the imprint. Denise here is an extreme case of course, but we’re…” he made a noise almost like a laugh “here to have a little fun, right?”

“So if someone turns the stereo up in the car, the girls just melt their brains straightaway? Just a full wipe?”

John’s lips, already small, turned into afterthoughts. He stared at Denise, who didn’t look like she particularly remembered her name. “Yes.” John said.

“Mm,” Damien said, handing the headphones back. “Impressive stuff.” As a world-class mind controller, he could’ve made it sound believable, if he wanted to.

There was a mirror nearby -- a full-length one. Aubrey had earlier absorbed the explanation about how it showed the girl a fuller, sexier body and made her want to blah blah blah. But now she could just barely see Damien in it, reflected outside of the aura in a strange workaround. He was a very attractive man. Of course, all men were attractive, and made her wet and horny, but he had a full black goatee that was so unabashedly villainous as to be enormously hot. But no one met his gaze, no one came up to him. They all waited, like schoolboys, for their evaluations. So it was final exam night for everyone.

An A+ feminist didn’t have trouble walking up to a man, and offering to fuck him. Aubrey gathered her nerve from deep down, and tried not to look up. She nearly stumbled in her heels, and stopped at the heat of his radiance. “Would you like a drink or a blowjob, master?” she said, holding up her tray.

The man looked considerably startled. His magnificence dimmed to a blaze. “Oh,” he said, recovering. “One of Harriet’s girls. What did you say? Drink or blowjob?”

“YES, master,” Aubrey said. It felt good to say ‘master’. Aubrey had a dim sense that it wasn’t very feminist. But then, she had a dim sense of her own self, up against this man. He eroded wills, personalities, intelligence, just by virtue of proximity. It was no wonder all the men in the room, all capable puppetmasters, looked scared. She summoned everything left, all the tiny bits of Aubrey left over from the subliminals, liminals, hormones and fizzy pink drinks. “You gotta pick one. JUST one.”

It wasn’t a no. But it wasn’t everything.

“A drink or a blowjob?” Damien had to think about this. Aubrey hoped he would hurry up. She could feel her tits getting bigger, just from being near him. Her pussy was sopping. Her head swam with elaborate sexual fantasies. Not that elaborate: Aubrey at the bottom of some pile. “Harriet... alright. A drink. I would like a drink.”

He took the drink from her tray, and the best feminist at Seeprince gasped with delight. Her nipples popped up over her dress, thick and long. Damien took her by the hand. Her nails, already long and tipped with wine-red polish, added a pink swirl.

“Where is Harriet, anyway?”

She was in the hunk pen, getting double-teamed by Aubrey’s erstwhile boyfriend. Joshie was hardly discernible from the other men, and made no effort to say hello to Aubrey. Instead he had positioned himself behind Aubrey’s professor and was pistoning an enormous donkey dick in and out of her. It was far bigger than even a few days ago. Sweat glistened on perfectly chiseled muscles. Professor Bee had somehow managed to suck down an equally big cock from another large hunk on the other side. She still wore her pink suit jacket, if nothing else.

A bald, stocky man that Aubrey assumed was Joshie’s teacher did a triple-take and a half-bow. Sweat steamed down all parts of his scalp. “This is-- they emit a pheromone that ---”

“Oh, just get Harriet out of there,” Damien said, with a touch of irritation. “No-- I’ll do it.” He gestured, and Harriet was back on her feet, once again wearing a pair of bottoms. Her eyes lit up again. Joshie and the other man, suddenly thrusting into air, sheepishly looked around. Aubrey was too distracted by her rapidly growing hair to get his attention, even if she wanted to. It was white-blonde and growing right down to her rear. Her server outfit was getting much too tight.

“Ah,” Harriet said. She checked herself over, spit into her palm, and then looked Damien, incredibly, full in the eyes. “Mmm… masst--- Damien. Hi, Damien.”

“Harriet,” Damien said. “You’ve made your point. You understand that I didn’t intend for everyone to drop everything to produce nothing but cookie-cutter dumbbells.”

“Oh, men have trouble saying no to you, Damien,” Professor Bee said. She’d kept the mammoth boobs, and undid her jacket to let them loose. “You needed a girl to do that. Someone with some backbone.”

“Thank you, Master,” Aubrey said. She looked around in mock surprise. “I’m so sorry. All these men and women around and no one has offered a blowjob. You must be so sexually frustrated.” She felt Harriet’s warning hand on her arm: don’t suck this one off. Aubrey shrugged it away. She snapped her fingers. There was a magic in the air, literally so, so close to Master. Her fingers, greasy and wet from the evening, were suddenly bone dry, and her snap echoed through the hall.

“Anna, can you please come over here?”

Her friend appeared from the bathrooms.

She’d been stuffed full of boobs, and had taken a few too many loads, but she was still tall, magnificent, perfect. Anna walked with forest creature grace. The garish arrows on her cheeks had gotten rubbed off, and her posture was ideal. Her mouth hung open when she saw Damien, making her look a lot dumber, but Damien didn’t seem to mind.

His attention shifted to Anna. Aubrey felt it leave with real relief. She was tubby with tits now, and her lips felt heavy and garish. She had new blonde hair all the way down her back. “Can you give Master a nice suck?” Aubrey said, through her new lips. She squeezed her eyes closed. It would be a bad idea to see the man’s cock. She’d never think of anything else.

Anna knelt, swished her hair behind her shoulders, and put his dick in her mouth, in a single motion. The entire hall relaxed. Conversations started up again. Behind them, Professor Bee discretely backed up against the hunk pen, put her hands on her knees, and waited for Joshie to plug her from behind, which he did.

Aubrey opened her eyes. Master’s cock was safely buried in Anna’s mouth, which was sucking away. It was having a swift effect on the girl, her hair lightening inexorably with each stroke, her tits filling in to brand new proportions. Her eyes were already a bright, bright blue. But that was feminism too. Cocksuckers of all kinds. She had the perfect idea for her final entry in the cock sucking assignment.