Better, Brighter, Whiter Finale

News of Emily’s protest traveled throughout the school like wildfire on a motorcycle. Within three days, volunteers were signing up at the house in droves to help set up stages and to get vendors to attend. They all knew that this was a protest designed to right the injustices done to pregnant women by the oppressive Dean of Bright University, but that didn’t mean that 60% of them were just looking for a reason to party. Fighting The Man was just a convenient justification for going on a week long bender at what was rapidly turning into Bimbo Burning Man. The sports teams were all in and working around the clock building platforms and scaffolding while frat boys-turned audio/visual engineers built speaker walls and massive screens around the dean’s office.

Many times, the cops were called, but Emily had armed the law students with flyers clarifying their right to peaceful protest. Normally, such a stunt wouldn’t have gone over very well, but there was no way the school was going to allow itself to become the target of national scrutiny following a police incident on campus. Emily received a Cease And Desist the following week, and then two more after she refused to comply. She knew that with the amount of support that she had would outweigh and overpower any threat they made. At one point, Mr. Pan had approached Emily and her friends while they were out and handed her an envelope containing a letter that threatened her immediate expulsion should she not end her activities, but she simply said she would sue them for discrimination and violation of her right to peaceful protest. In reality, it wasn’t that simple and she knew it, but the school wad considered privately owned by the donors and shareholders, and as such, almost every student had parents that owned part of the school. Instead of cowering or standing in shock that she’d received the letter, she made an even bigger show out of challenging him to do it then and there.

She knew that with as famous (or notorious) as she now was, her expulsion wouldn’t just cause anger amongst the student body who now championed her as their Modern Joan of Arc, it would cause full blown riots. After Mr. Pan backed down and recanted his threat, he walked away to the boos of the gathered crowd. He was defeated, and the crowd loved it. He may have been on the advisory board, but old Wallace had absolutely nothing on the Bitch Queen of Bright U.  Several students all worked together to design and create a flag in her honor, and not one day after it had begun flying did the incident as well as the entire protest-fest become known as “The White Knight Rebellion.”

(1)

The morning of the opening ceremonies had come and with the dean and staff completely helpless, and in many cases unwilling to try and stop it, the protest was about to really begin. 

Katie had taken heartily to her new Plastic Positive philosophy and looked in every way the ideal Bright bimbo fuckdoll. While normally she would be doing her morning yoga around this time, she was busy prancing around in sexy outfits and doing interviews and photoshoots for the documentarists, both amateur and professional. Even the local news had decided to get in on the scoop and booked meetings, photoshoots, and interviews with the leaders of ββψ House. Many outlets praised their efforts as heroic and progressive while the more conservative newscasts described Emily as a Communist and a Terrorist. Regardless, the increased attention made Bright U the talk of the town, and Emily Knight and her sisters were at the epicenter of it all.

(2)

Emily paced back and forth, rehearsing for the video she was going to post on insta, documenting her first steps outside on the day of the festival, though even that was just a stall tactic to buy enough time to calm her nerves a little better.

“What do you think about this one?” She asked, holding her phone right up to Katie’s bimbofied face to show her.

“I think that you need to breathe.” Katie advised in her patented valley girl rasp. “But also that this one looks too serious. It’s like…almost kinda butch. Lemme see some more like…pleading determination? Like be strong and sexy, but throw a little pout in there as you like….give them a body tour. Like really make it about you, but also like…your outfit too. It’s like ‘I’m busy, but ugh I’m too fucking hot to NOT document this moment.’ You know? We’re going for like….High class slutty? ...But like….still too good for you, you know?”

Emily walked back inside for another several minutes as Katie sipped her morning cappuccino, the warm sun adoring her body through her pristine white filming robe.

“How are these?” Emily asked, just as urgently as before.

“Hm. Too much pout. It makes you look weak. How about…more titties? But like you’re having fun with them and you’re like…not even scared at all. That’ll be just like super unnerving to them.”

Like a champ, Emily took the advice she was given with full understanding of Katie’s concept, and after six more attempts, got her to say “Perfect.” This was great for Kate, because she no longer needed to console a manic Emily, but bad for Emily herself who had run out of time. Clad in only her favorite pink and white lingerie, she walked out of her front door to a cheering crowd, making sure to expertly pose in several positions before she and Malcolm got into the car with Sophie. 

(3)

Driving down to the main campus was a larger chore than had been originally anticipated as crowds of students, tourists, sports fans, ravers, performers, activists, journalists, and locals all filled the streets either trying to show their support or just get into the protest to party. It was only when Sophie began hanging out of the side of the car and playing to the crowd and causing the roads to clear as the eventgoers became aware that they were blocking in both SophieLuxx AND Emily Knight at the same time. Malcolm stopped the car on Sophie’s request and the ice blonde girl stepped out to take pictures and answer a couple questions from reporters, soaking up the attention, buying more time for Emily to compose herself and run through what she was going to do and say when she got onstage in front of the Dean’s quarters.

Sophie seemed overjoyed to be out there in the thick of it. Cameras flashed at her every move. People gawked and cheered at her new and improved body as well as her even larger K cup implants. She had become especially popular online as she ended up booking several major acts for the festival, and in doing so brought in a massive wave of attention to Bright University as well as herself. With her level of notoriety and sheer sex appeal, she had been receiving modeling and movie contract offers like crazy, though many of them were pornographic in nature. Even so, SophieLuxx wasn’t going broke any time soon.

(4)

Upon arriving, Sophie immediately ran off to coordinate with the event, and Emily looked on with amazed eyes at the increasing stack of positive pregnancy tests piling up in a clear tub onstage. As the mania over the protest and the mistreatment of pregnant girls mounted, more and more inquiries into Kelly and her place in the matter began to come in. Kelly took it upon herself to cater to them in the form of erotic cam shows where she proudly displayed her self-declared Fat Mommy Milkers and swollen, 7 months-along baby belly to the world as she used the platform to spread awareness of injustices and noble causes around the world, including her own at Sunny Bright University. It didn’t matter if you were a horny man attending a lecture on feminist activism to see a pregnant bimbo porn stream or a young, impressionable liberal arts student watching from another state as the new voice of Women’s Rights spouted her message through the mouth of a knocked up, horny blonde via gasping orgasms and milky, dripping nipples that caused her to squeal with pleasure whenever she pinched and tugged on them.
Some die hard, zealous supporters had begun showing their devotion to their newest celebrities by going “all in.” This meant that in an attempt to increase the pressure to allow pregnant women to attend, several female students had been making public shows of getting their bimbo bodies fertilized by muscular studs, and then adding their positive pregnancy tests to a growing pile to be counted as a sort of student body pregnancy census. Emily had never actually endorsed them doing such a thing, and it was in fact, a little alarming. But even so, she was more amazed to see and hear that the number of positive tests had risen to over a thousand in just over a month.

(5)

“You ready to go on?” Victoria asked as she too pranced around in scanty stockings and sexy panties to emphasize sex appeal as well as join in the sexy atmosphere of the festival.

“Yeah. I think so.” Emily said, taking several deep breaths before putting on the headset placed on the table for her. She pulled the microphone down to her mouth, and with one last glance at her sorority sister, walked onstage to uproarious applause.

Victoria however, remained behind and attempted to do her best as a stage manager and bent over to move a few crates of electrical equipment, but found herself unable to get the thing to budge a few inches at a time. She stood up straight, wincing at the tiredness of her arms as a feeling of staunch unease at how weak she felt. Walking over to the full length mirror set up on the inside of the makeshift booth, Tonisha could scarcely believe what she was looking at. She knew that the girl in the mirror was her, but knew as well that she couldn’t possibly staring at her own reflection. 

She stared and examined, aghast at the realness of what she was staring at. Her stomach wound itself into a nauseous knot as she squeezed and fondled her body, still reeling at the idea that what she felt was really her. Tonisha had always prided herself on her strength and fitness, but instead of strong ebony arms and toned abs in the mirror, she saw only the pale, doughy arms of an over-endowed white girl who’d never seen a day’s work in her life. Panic welled up inside of her as she squeezed her liquid soft belly and pinched her thick, but unarguably fat thighs, swallowing hard at the realization that the white girl in the mirror was her. It was horrifying not just to see for herself, but it made her feel helpless and scared. Even if she was in some sort of horrid nightmare situation, she’d always imagined that with her physicality and willpower, she would be able to pull through no matter what. But this wasn’t her body. She remembered every day at Bright University exactly as she had lived it, but couldn’t pinpoint when everything had changed. 

Tonisha ran to the door and immediately felt her marshmallowy thighs wobble and quiver as her fat asscheeks sloshed back and forth. She threw herself out of the door and attempted to get away; it didn’t matter how or where. But whereas she was used to being able to run for miles on her thin, powerful legs, the transformed black girl could only despair as her wobbly thighs ached and her lungs burned, leaving her gasping for air after only 60 feet or so. She cursed as she felt the sweat roll down her still quivering body and lamented how (weak) she had somehow become. Even worse were the stares from hundreds of massive-tittied rich girls and their ultra hung boyfriends, making her feel horribly (weak) insecure about her (weak, chubby) body.
She felt humiliated and exposed, and soon an unwanted heat to fill her soft, plump loins, growing (weaker and weaker) in intensity the more she attempted to hide. Toni pushed through the crowd, trying her best to ignore the multitude of hands, both male and (weak) female as they groped and fondled her squishy (weak) figure, filling her brain with a horny pink haze as the physical stimulation made her (weak) panties dampen with unwanted arousal. Even as she pulled away from where Emily was charismatically wowing the crowd with her rousing speech, she could hear new sounds taking over. Poppy, girly dance music filled the air and Toni couldn’t help but let it seep into her mind, slowing her breathless dash to a thick saunter. She could feel herself bouncing to the beat as her mental defenses tired, growing weaker (and weaker and weaker and weaker) the more the bubblegum pink sound filled her mind. Now shaking her hips to the rhythm, Tori focused all her (weak, soft, flimsy) willpower into getting away from this place before she was too (weak) entranced by it to get away. Her focus was distracted by the pleasurable sensations quaking through her body as her (plump, fat, jiggly, weak) ass quivered in a way that reminded her of the way it sloshed and plopped back and forth against the rhythmic thrusting of whatever hot dick she’d taken home for the night as it pounded her from behind.
Against her will, the giddy sounds gushing from the speakers moved her body from a saunter to a bouncy, psuedoerotic dance that began to catch the eyes of several Bright Boys looking for a cushy place to warm their cocks. Tonisha felt like prisoner in her own mind. Every inch of her mental faculties were screaming that something was wrong and that she needed to escape, but the world was closing in on her. Mentally, she was trying to leave the school. To use her powerful legs to carry her home and away from whatever this place was. But the longer she tried, the more she felt the wobble in her legs as the rhythm took her strength away. A milky haze enveloped her mind like a fog, trapping the athletic (fat) black (white) woman (bimbo) no matter how she tried to escape. Two men began dancing with the chubby blonde, further causing her to groan lustfully as she imagined their muscled bodies and big dicks pounding away at her (soft, plush, princess) pussy. 

Tonisha began to panic as her body betrayed her at every turn. She felt (strong, sexy) hands on her (fat, sexy) hips, but instead of screaming, she bit her lip. Instead of turning to run, she bent over slightly to press into the frat boy’s crotch, her (big, plushy) ass teasing his cock to life. She tried to concentrate, forcing the haze away with her conviction to save herself. She’d always known something was wrong with this place. She KNEW her scholarship was too good to be true, and that this place was EXACTLY the insidious hellhole she thought it was. 

So she ran.

Tonisha barreled through the crowd with dreamlike slowness, agonizing over the feeling of a heavy weight slowing her down. In the distance, she saw a small trailer with Emily’s White Knight flag hanging from the outside and rushed towards it to escape the crowd and at least drown out the music until there was a break or she had pulled herself together. But with ever step, she felt as if she were sinking into a marshmallow. Thick, cloying sensations glomming onto her fit, dark body. As she pulled towards the trailer, she could feel the milky air soaking into her and turning her proud (weak) muscles to mush. Her tight (soft) abs grew doughy as her needlessly skimpy outfit began to dog into her flesh. Tori became aware of the weight and jiggling of her chest as her (huge, plushy titties) breasts filled with soft (soft) sexy (sexy) fat. Her pussy throbbed, nearly dripping in arousal at the knowledge that she could feel herself changing, this time for good should she not find a way to escape in time. She nearly lunged onto the doorknob, furious at the feeling of being pulled back before she realized she had never let go of her dance partner’s arm after she’d grabbed it and pulled it to her ass. 

She didn’t remember walking inside, and she scarcely remembered taking off her lacey blue bra and tossing it to the ground by the bed. Her reverie had broken momentarily as Tori desperately scrambled to remember what she needed to get from this trailer. She knew it was of the UTMOST importance, but couldn’t for the life of her remember why she’d come in. Was it something for the stage? Something about Emily? 

There was a shining second of clarity in which the addled girl remembered that she needed to get away from this place and take Emily and every one of her sorority sisters with her. The thought was brief however, as her reverie was broken by a debilitatingly satisfying *SMACK* against her ass, sending both cheeks quaking wildly and forcing an uncontrollable, moaning squeal of pleasure from her mouth.
She tried to resist the urge to drop to her knees and begin nuzzling the man’s hard cock, but she was far too weak (soft and weak).

Before she knew it, she was pinned to the bed, her (weak) doughy arms helpless against his strong, gym-honed muscles.

She tried to keep quiet as his cock slipped inside of her, but the second he asked “You like that, Princess?” she felt her willpower sink into her milky, pleasure-addled body. 

“Yes daddy! I wanna be your princess daddy! Fuck your fat, Plushy Princess! UUUUNNNGGGGG FUCK ME!!!”


All things considered, the protest was going well. Emily’s speech at the opening ceremonies had been a hit, and for a full week, the Bright University campus had become a nonstop party that the dean and his advisors were helpless to stop. Several attempts had been made to contact her about a public negotiation to end the situation as quickly as possible. Apparently, the dean didn’t appreciate his board of advisors getting him locked in his home by the students at his own school. As much as Emily had been enjoying the attention, she too was relieved to see that they were open to accept terms, as the nonstop partying and event running was beginning to wear her down, especially given her immense celebrity status. Every half hour there seemed to be yet another contest to judge or performance to watch or speech to give. She did have fun every time she went to a function, and was amazed at the outpouring of support but simply couldn’t keep working everywhere she went. 

All her friends had been too busy to hang out too. While Katie was making a new career out of brand modeling with new photoshoots twice daily, Kelly’s informational sexy stream hadn’t taken long to devolve into marathon pregnancy porn with the only information to be gleaned from the heavily pregnant blonde’s lips was that girls are objects, stupid, and were made to fucked full of babies. Granted, she rarely said it so eloquently or even in that order, the message had been quite clear. Sophie and Victoria were nowhere to be found unless you tracked their location on social media, so Emily made what little spare tome she had about herself and Malcolm despite the intentionally blaring sounds outside.
For her final performance as leader of the rebellion, Katie had insisted she wear something dramatic and enlisted the help of a famous costume designer from Vegas to bring her an outfit that screamed regality. What they got was Sin City Showgirl, but the sheer presence of the outfit made Emily feel powerful enough to accept it. Even then, she lamented being pressed into yet another photoshoot as a condition of her agreement, as all she wanted to do was get this whole thing over and done with. When the shoot inevitably ran late, it was all Malcolm could do to make his way to the main stage ahead of her to stall for precious time and keep the dean there long enough to sign the terms she’d written.

(6)

She’d assumed (naively, she thought) that the people would see her outfit and make way for their de-facto queen, but it was exactly the opposite. Every person who saw her attempted to rush her for some attention while a few semi-noble frat guys pushed them back in their own attempt to curry favor. As she made her way to the dean’s quarters, she had stopped into one of the trailers that had been set up to take care of those who had been partying too hard to get some water without being mobbed by rabid, horny college students. Emily stepped into the room and immediately locked onto the water cooler just in time for Victoria to emerge from the blankets on the unnecessarily luxurious, sex-stained bed and call for her.

“Mmmmmm I did it, Emmers…” Victoria cooed sleepily. She looked dazed and cum-drunk, still allowing her mouth to loll open as she pressed a vibrator into her drenched pussy.

Emily stared in shock at the creepy, sex-zombie face her friend was making and let out an unwanted “The….fuck…?”

She knew Victoria was a bit of a slut and loved sex as much as any Bright girl, but for some reason, this was particularly unnerving to see.

“I did it, bitch…” She said, joyously gasping as she drilled the buzzy toy into her clit, staring in obsessive ecstacy at a used pregnancy test as if it were the hottest porn she’d ever seen. “I’m in, Emmers….” She droned. “I’ve gone all the way....I’m gonna be a moooooommmmmmyyyyYYYYYYYYYY!!!” She screamed at the statement, eyes crossed and hips bucking against her toy before she slumped down onto the pillows.

Emily stood terrified, ready to run at any second, but still unable to tear her eyes away from what she was seeing. A stray thought entered her mind and she squinted at the braindead bimbo in front of her.

“…Tonisha..?” She whispered as waves of memories of her friends came rushing back to her.

“Mmmmyeahhh…” Victoria said in her own sexed up vocal fry. She got up and sauntered over to a bin and dropped her test inside along with what looked like a hundred other positive tests. 

“God we’re gonna look so fucking hot when we start showing, Emily….” Victoria said, chilling Emily to the bone with an evilly satisfied grin as she sat spread legged in her sex-soaked lingerie. “Fat, sexy mommies all together…just like you said….”

(7)

“Oh what the fuckin hell, no way. Nope. Nuh-uh. This some fuckin crazy white people shit. I’m out.” Emefa said, frightened by how wrong her high-pitched voice sounded when she spoke like a-“ She stopped, her skin prickling in alarm and furious alarm at the genuine thought she was about to verbally finish. Grabbing the door handle, she tore out of the room and dashed away from it as fast as she could. This time the crowds DID part for Emily, as apparently Malcolm had run out of time and the dean was about to leave the stage without her. 

It almost stopped her too. For a brief moment, Emefa had genuinely forgotten what she had just seen in the trailer. 

How? Why? The thoughts clanged in her head like discordant bells as she grumbled furiously to herself as she marched through the crowd.

“Some fuckin bodysnatcher shit out here. This some fuckin ‘Get Out’ shit. Hell no. Fuck no. Not me. We ain’t doin this shit. I am a proud, black woman. I am big, I am-“ She stopped, the thought choking to death in her throat before she could say it. She remembered being obese all her life. She remembered tricking Bright U into admitting a 400 pound ni-

She almost did it again, this time with tears in her eyes and a vague mental compulsion to avoid crying lest her makeup begin to run down her perfect, beautiful face.

She marched blindly now, so caught up in taking stock of who she was and what memories were real that she wasn’t even paying attention to where she was headed. In a rage, she bounded up the stairs to where Malcolm and Sophie were waiting, unable to not notice how light and athletic she felt in doing so. She marveled at how easy it was to move, and felt almost giddy at the memory of just how fast she could move when she wanted to.

Emefa rolled her eyes dizzily, trying to refocus on not getting swept up in the world around her. “My name is Emefa Kikélomo.” She said. “And I am the head of Bet-…I am here on behalf of all underprivileged ethnic…com……” She stopped again, sighing instead of finishing her rehearsal. Years of memories unlocked themselves in her mind and the world seemed keener and clearer for it. In her sudden lucidity she could recall her days growing up in the ghetto, being teased by one half of the neighborhood for being fat while the other half fetishized her for it. She remembered entire summers spent glued to the couch with each of her asscheeks filling a cushion of their own as she boredly replayed all the same video games for the umpteenth time, waiting for birthdays and holidays so that she would finally have something to do. She remembered her parents: jobless and lazy. Completely unmotivated to do anything for themselves and relying on their eldest daughter to take care of the kids and lift the family out of poverty singlehandedly while they got high and watched Power.

“Alright, Emily. You’re up. You got this.” Said a scrawny, nerdy looking white boy with his shirt off.

“You are going to burn.” She said, marveling at the lack of noise in her head. Moments ago, she’d been wrestling with the force of Emily Knight’s stubborn personality, only to find her fallen completely silent when this skinny dork held out his hand to her. He was cute, she thought. 

Malcolm. She knew Malcolm. He was Emily’s boyfriend. They were engaged, in fact. She was even there for it.

“Nope!” He grinned proudly, still handing her water bottles and prompting her to drink while she stared dumbly at him. “I put on the sunscreen you gave me, so I’m good for another two hours!” 

She remembered the sunscreen. They had fought about it before a beach trip a few months back and he ended up a lobster because he didn’t listen. Since then, he’d faithfully taken her advice whenever she’d given it. It made her feel heard.

“Alright babe….break a proverbial leg, alright? I love you.” He said sweetly before bravely slapping her firm, plastic ass, pushing her to the stage where the dean lie waiting along with the thunderous applause from the crowd.

The old man had begun talking about something, but Emefa wasn’t listening. Her ears were still ringing and her heart was still fluttering at Malcolm telling her he loved her. She could tell he meant it too. There were many signs in the crowd that said “We ❤you, Emily!” but only Malcolm’s words counted. They were all she wanted to hear, but she still couldn’t help but appreciate the colossal sea of people that had come to see her talk to the headmaster of a glorified school building. She waved to them discreetly, pretending still to listen to the old man prattle on. Dean Edgar Sortimis was his name. And he was speaking directly to her. He had come to surrender.

“…..All I’m saying, Miss Knight is that you have wound everyone up for a cause that you yourself don’t fully believe in! If it were *you* carrying a child while petitioning for these sorts of things, I would have reason to believe that you know what you’re talking about, but you don’t. You’re just another dolled up instagram activist trying to make it big online. You are using your entire community and encouraging reckless pregnancies just so you can rack up followers. Is that right? I can’t sign this. I’ve come to say…No, Miss Knight. You’re young. You’re clearly not with child yourself. Let’s see how long you can keep this party going before you’re stuck  cleaning up beer bottles and scaffolding while every other hungover sap you’ve convinced to follow you enjoys the consequences of their actions and how it affects their sports scholarships. Let’s see how glamorous your actions are when all your girlfriends are hormonal and puking everywhere but can’t do anything about it because the abortion clinic is overbooked. 

No, Miss Knight. I don’t believe that you actually care about expectant mothers or the lives of their babies. I think you want to dress up like a showgirl and make lots of money on your little internet paysite.”
Emefa wanted to be mad, but everything he said was mostly true. She was manic and wanted to have accomplished something. She wanted the love of the crowd and the three cheers from everyone. She wanted to be rich and beautiful.

….And now she was.

She had tons of money from a rich white family she remembered growing up with, but had only seen in facebook photos. Her fans adored her. She was engaged. She wasn’t just skinny, she was the sexiest woman alive.

“Dean Sortimis…” Emefa began in her most dulcet, professional voice.

“I understand your concerns, as I have had them myself. I was NOT the person you see before you when I first came here. I was fat. I was boring. I was no one.

Bright U changed that for me. It changed ME. I hated who I was before I came here. Hell, that’s WHY I came here: to change my life. And I’ve done that. I realize now that this is what I want. THIS is who I am.” She said, her confidence swelling with each syllable.

With baited breath, she pulled Malcolm onto the stage and tore off her bra before bending over the podium, exposing her overly large butt and thick, pudgy nipples to the screaming crowd. Emefa pulled her shimmering red panties down, and bid her future husband begin publicly pumping his cock in and out of her tight, puffy, glistening pussy. She clamped down as hard as she could, knowing that Malcolm, nervous and stunned as he was wouldn’t last long with her lips trying to squeeze the cum out of his thick, nerdy dick like it was.

“This….school…” She said, obviously moaning between  words. “Has changed me. Fixed me. If I ever…. hear the name….Emefa again…..” She trailed off as her first orgasm wracked her entire body and a series of loud, squealing moans inspired strong hands to grip and stroke their cocks throughout the crowd while manicured nails began snaking into panties and burying themselves in various incarnations of sopping wet pussy.

“I am Emily Knight….Dean Sortimis….And I choose to live a Better, Brighter, Whiter life.

And I am going all the way.” She said, squirting all over the stage, causing her eyes to cross before she looked up again with lust-filled, animalistic rage.
She could feel the tightness in her stomach that she’d not felt in months as it only served to enhance her orgasm upon truly FEELING her mantra come to life. She grew dizzy, only vaguely aware of how simultaneously different and normal her massive bolt-on tits felt as they barely shook beneath her. She felt the insane wideness in her hips and the extra jiggle from a recent fat transfer to her ass that she only half remembered getting. In that moment, Emily had never felt more certain of her purpose, and smiled blissfully as she watched the scar from her birth control implant shrink away into nothing.
“And if you thought I was bad before,” she said, feeling Malcolm’s cock swell one last time before he emptied his balls into her hyperfertile body.

“You’re going to *HATE* me now that I’m pregnant.” She growled wickedly at the grinning man.

Dean Sortimis walked over to the paperwork set down on the desk and signed on the appropriate lines, smiling widely as he did.

“Typical female.” He said, chuckling. “Always thinking you’re going to get the last word.”

Emily could scarcely hear the crowd as her body gave way to yet more orgasmic pleasure that moved her dangerously away from consciousness. The dean walked over and patted the delirious girl on the head and said,

“Thank you, Emily. Well done. You made the right choice.”