More School for Sissies 2!

As always, this is a first draft. more on the way soon!

Day Three

Another morning shower to rinse away the strange dust that fell during the night and Martin was ready for class. Kevin stayed in bed, and Martin found no need to rouse him. His encounter with Elaine and the strange behavior of Chris in the hall had him tight-lipped and worried. That worry was fueled by the continuing stubbornness of his face to produce the hair he was used to shaving.

Literature was first on the class schedule, and Miss Helena was bursting out of the red dress she wore. The matching red platforms seemed hardly appropriate for a classroom, but she walked on them with practiced ease as she led a discussion at the head of the class.

“Did anyone read anything really yummy?” she asked the assembled boys.

A few heads swiveled as the boys took measure of one another. Martin was reluctant to speak, having read very little of his assigned book. Every time he started a chapter, he was quickly subdued by an undeniable weariness. Some of his peers seemed to have had less trouble. One of the boys tentatively lifted his hand.

“Go on, Peter.”

Peter was waifish, and his unkempt dark brown hair hung down and covered his cheeks. Martin would have bet those cheeks burned red, though.

“I thought it was hot.”

There were some chuckles rippling in the room.

“Keep going,” Miss Helena said, rolling her hand for Peter to continue.

“I read one scene where this girl went down on a guy in a stable. I mean, performed fellatio.”

The chuckles turned to outright laughter.

“I don’t know what all of you are laughing at. We are dedicated to honestly in this class, and if that means some uncomfortable language, then that’s what we’ll use. You can say ‘going down,’ Peter. And that’s for a man or a woman. You could also say, ‘She was sucking his big meaty dick.’ Or, ‘he was giving her all the sweet cum she could handle.’”

More titters accompanied Miss Helena’s clarifications. Alongside that, some shifting in chairs which created a general floor of noise in the room. Martin was squirming, too. Seeing a bombshell like Miss Helena talk so graphically about blowjobs was a hard thing to ignore. His cock was swelling, and Martin was sure he wasn’t the only one.

Another hand raised. “I liked this part in my book where the girl was jerking this guy off and he came all over her face.”

“Oh, that is delicious!” Miss Helena exclaimed.

“There was a scene in mine where the guy was giving it to this slut doggy-style and when she came he used that to lube up her ass.”

“Wonderful!”

There were more, now that the tap opened on the sexual talk, and boys tripped over one another to describe the sexiest thing they found in their assigned books. Not having read much at all, martin was ashamed that he had nothing to offer before he questioned exactly what he was ashamed of. These were students being explicitly sexual in a classroom led by a blonde sexpot. The whole thing was ridiculous. Only the stiff cock between his legs said otherwise. It told him just how hot this all was.

He was never called on by Miss Helena, and was pleased when the class ended and he didn’t have to speak. He was sure his silence went unnoticed. Four of his classmates dominated the conversation, going further than describing the hotter scenes in their books. They were inventing new descriptions and new sexual adventures for the characters, less literary discussion than a listing of fantasies. And through it all, Miss Helena hopped and squealed, her big boobs bouncing and threatening to pop out of the tight red dress.

He was in a pleasant haze as he roamed across the quad, surprised from a complete stupor by the sudden appearance of Elaine on his arm. She’d opted for pigtails today, and a form-fitting jumper that protected her skin against the cool air but did nothing to hide her curves. Her perfumed scent lit up his senses as she threaded her arm through his.

“How was class, cutie?”

“Good,” he managed. Was his hard-on plainly visible. The way the tip brushed against his pants when he walked had him practically drooling over Elaine.

“I have great news. Your appointment with Doctor Harliss is set up for today. You are going to love her. Isn’t that nice?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” he managed. It felt like his head was crammed full of cotton. He was mind-numbingly horny, and Elaine’s presence only fanned the flames of that desire.

“Here’s the room number. Three o’clock. Don’t be late, okay? I promised her you’d be there.”

Elaine shoved a piece of paper into the front pocket of Martin’s jeans. For the briefest of moments, her fingers grazed his throbbing member.

“I’ll be there,” he said, voice breathy.

“I know you will. I’ll see you after, okay?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. Elaine stopped their walk together and she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. Just the night before Martin ran from her. Now Elaine’s presence was at least something familiar in this strange dreamworld he found himself in, and when she was gone he felt again rudderless.

The mind moves mechanically, even when dulled. It wasn’t until lunch was done that he felt remotely like himself. Yet, he had gone on to conduct his business as he normally would, his feet moving of their own accord, his hands opening books, his eyes reading. And with the growing sense of self returning came the low-simmering worry that Waverly evoked in him. Martin had to say something to someone, but who? His parents? They were likely to chalk it up to some scheme to bring him home again. His father was a stubborn man, a trait he passed down to Martin. His mother was fond of saying that the root of the problem between the two of them was their similarity, not their differences. Whatever the reason, his parents were a dead end. And he didn’t trust anyone in the administration of Waverly College to provide safe harbor.

Martin had never felt more alone than he did in that moment, trudging toward his final class of the day, sure that some insidious force was working against him, and equally sure there was very little he could do about it.

His last class of the day was Biology. The professor for the mixed-gender class was Professor Williams, a middle-aged woman who liked tall heels. Her hair was loose, with streaks of gray that gave her an air of authority more than they aged her. When she roamed the class in a white lab coat, her black heels clicked on the tile floor of the classroom and combination lab. The students sat on high stools around a table with sinks at each end.

Professor Williams looked at the students like they were the lab rats, inspecting each one from head to toe in silent judgement. When she came to Martin, she paused and gave him a longer look before moving on to the next.

“We are going to begin this semester with a discussion of reproduction.” There were a few murmurs and more than a few snorts of laughter. “Yes,” she continued, “I thought you heathens might like that. But don’t get your hormones too excited. We are beginning with some basic anatomy.”

Martin opened his Biology book, but the lesson was far afield from the text in those pages. Professor Williams dimmed the lights and directed attention to a screen drawn down from the ceiling. A digital projector broadcast the outline of a woman with her major organs identified by thick black lines.

“This,” Professor Williams said, “is the absolute height of evolution. The female body. For the girls in this class, I probably don’t need to convince you of that. And the boys are obsessed with the female body, too, though perhaps from a different perspective.” There were some chuckles at that. “Let’s walk through the reproductive cycle of the female body. And, yes, that means we’ll be looking at the most beautiful aspects of a human body, so you can stop all the giggling, you silly girls. And boys, too.”

It didn’t stop completely, but as the class went on, the students of both genders were enraptured by the passionate way in which Professor Williams taught the class. She was exuberant in her descriptions of the female form. A glance around the classroom told Martin that he wasn’t the only one caught up in her passionate descriptions.

When the class was over, some of the boys from his dorm were gathered around Professor Williams while she went on about the beauty of the female ebody, and how fortunate any woman was to possess such a marvel. The boys fawned, and not only because the middle-aged Professor Willaims was an attractive woman in her own right. They were caught up in the fervor of her poetic teaching style. If Martin had not been mindful of his appointment with the guidance counsellor, he might have stayed, too. As it was, he only had a few minutes to cross campus if he was to make his meeting on time. Punctuality was important for Martin, even if he rarely had to be somewhere besides his classes.

The office of the guidance counsellor was in a beautiful brick building, something Martin believed might have been used as a guest house at one time. It was smaller than the surrounding structures, like a child sandwiched in for safety by parents on both sides. The windows were white-trimmed and tall. When martin climbed the short steps to the narrow hall, he found the counsellor waiting for him.

She was a small woman with auburn hair, thin without appearing frail. Her sharp features fell short of severe, and she had a welcoming smile that put Martin immediately at ease.

“You must be Martin,” she said, offering her hand. He took it for a perfunctory shake, and marveled at the softness of her hand. “I’m Dr. Miller. Come right this way.”

Her office was windowless, unlike the hall and entrance, with only a green-globed lamp to softly light the room. It looked more akin to a psychologist’s office, or what Martin always imagined a psychologist’s office to be. There was a lounge chair, overstuffed and very soft as he sat in it across from Miller’s desk. She leaned against this rather than sat behond it, crossing her thin legs neatly over one another while she looked Martin over.

“So, tell me, Martin, how is college life treating you?”

“Good. So far, anyway.”

“Elaine tells me you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot.”

“IS she reporting on me or something?”

“Nothing ssinister, I assure you. Our mentors are here to provide you with the information you need and to let me know of any issues that you might be less than forthcoming about discussing.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “But I don’t imagine you’d keep anything from me, would you Martin?”

“No,” he said, “of course not.” His stomach sank as he realized this was a lie. His worries over Kevin’s behavior and general suspicions urrounding Waverly College would not be revealed, not before he had a clearer understanding of what was happening here.

“I like to use a little trick with my clients, Martin. A bit of a shortcut to health and happiness. Have you ever tried hypnotherapy before?”

“Like being hypnotized into being a chicken or something?”

Dr. Miller laughed. “No, nothing quite like that. It’s a way for me to help you relax and to feel more at ease as we talk. Would you mind that?”

“I guess not.”

“Good.” Dr. Miller moved around the room, closing the blinds as she spoke until the room was cloaked in darkness. “I think you’ll find it’s very helpful. What I do is to make you more receptive to your lessons. More focused. Is the temperature alright?”

“Sure,” he answered. It was rather comfortable in the office. Now that the blinds were closed, it was not only warm but dim, too. He could imagine himself falling asleep in the chair before Miller had any chance to do her thing with hypnosis or whatever. Her hair was long and smooth, and when she passed by Martin, he could smell the sweet scent of her.

“Good. Now I want you to focus on this metronome.”

Dr. Miller revealed the device beneath a wooden case. With a tap of her finger she set the metronome’s arm swinging back and forth. It made a hollow clicking noise as it passed the apex of the swing, a steady tock tock tock sound.

“Very good, Martin. I want you to focus your eyes on the metronome. Listen to the sound as it swings and the words I am speaking. So easy to relax. So warm and comfortable. Isn’t that right, Martin?”

“Yes,” he said, the word coming out slow and syrupy.

“That’s very good, Martin. With every swing, I want you to relax more and more until all you hear is the sound of the metronome and my words. If you need to close your eyes, you can. Because the only thing that’s important is listening to my words.”

Martin felty his shoulders sagging, his fingers going limp as they rested on the chair. It was as if he was sinking into some luxurious quicksand, and he made no effort to escape. Dr. Miller was still speaking, but it was getting more and more difficult to concentrate on her words. It wasn’t like quicksand at all, he realized. It was like being wrapped in blankets, more and more until he was so very warm, and the sounds of the world around him were muffled until there was silence. And soon, there was nothing at all.

“And awake,” Dr. Miller said. She snapped her fingers, and Martin’s head jerked upright. He had been slumped in the chair, limp as a noodle. He blinked stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Only for a moment. You did very well, Martin. You are such a wonderful student. And I want you to come back here any time you feel worried or anxious. And we’ll have our regular sessions, of course. How does that sound?”

“Great.”

Martin felt more rested than he had since coming to Waverly if he was honest with himself. Not only did he feel like he’d had the most refreshing night’s sleep, his thoughts were lighter, too. The worry that haunted him the past few days was all but gone.

“Thank you, Dr. Miller.”

“I am always happy to help. Now off you go. Be sure to find Elaine later, I know she’ll want to hear how things went. She was almost as good a student as you are.”

Elaine was waiting outside the building when Martin emerged. The foggy sensation was back, and he nearly stumbled down the short set of steps outside Dr. Miller’s building. Elaine aught his arm and he gained his feet again.

“Sorry. Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” she said with a wide smile. Martin was lost in the beauty of Elaine for an instant. Her silken and dark hair, the roundness of her face, the narrowed eyes with their deep brown color. Not to mention her body. Justine was cute, but Elaine had big round tits that Martin loved. It was hard to believe he’d avoided her, and struggled to remember why. “I should probably get you back to your room.”

“That would be great,” he replied.

Martin didn’t really care one way or another. She could have told him they were going to collect shells at the beach, or to visit a funeral home, and he would have responded with equal enthusiasm. He only knew he wanted to be with Elaine right now and he would happily follow anywhere she led.

Kevin was missing from his room, just as he was most of the time. Elaine locked the door behind them and arranged Martin on the bed after removing his sneakers. He didn’t offer to help, nor did he attempt to stop her. Going with the flow, he thought, that’s what he was doing. Elaine seemed to know what she was doing, and so he trusted her to take care of him. That was a nice feeling, too – to be cared for. His father was big on self-reliance, but martin appreciated having someone like Elaine to treat him well like this. Not only had she removed his shoes, she was unfastening his pants and tugging them down his legs. The least he could do was to lift his ass some to give her better access. It was no surprise when she lifted his shirt up, either. Being naked save for his socks and underwear with a girl like Elaine was a pretty great situation to find oneself, martin thought with a lazy smile.

“You’ve got such a nice little body,” she said. Her hands were on his shoulders, then moved down his arms. They were wonderfully warm hands, and when they moved over his skin they left behind trails of tingles. “And I think you might be a little excited.”

It was true. He had grown very hard beneath his briefs. His cock was pointing straight up at Elain, who giggled some as she reached under the waist of his underpants and took hold of him. Her thin fingers felt very good. She gave him a gentle squeeze and Martin moaned. Ripples of pleasure were radiating out from his dick while Elaine alternately squeezed it and stroked it.

“You like that?”

“Oh God yes,” he managed. His mouth hung open. He thought he might have been drooling a little.

“Want me to keep doing it?”

“Ye. Please,” he whispered.

The stroking went on, more urgently than before. Her hand was expert in adoring his hard member, causing him to squirm on the bed. She placed one palm on his bare chest and eased him onto his back. Martin offered no resistance. He was staring up at the ceiling but could sense her moving between his legs. When her lips kissed the tip of his cock, he let out a whimper. She grippe dhim by the base and his flesh was swallowed by a deliciously wet heat. Hands gripped the sides of his mattress while Elaine pleasured him. His mind whirled like a roulette wheel, unable to stop and focus on any single thing, instead bouncing along and lighting on one thought for a fraction of a second before moving to the next. The only constant was the bliss of Elaine’s mouth on his organ, teasing him and coaxing him.

The propulsion toward climax began and his hips moved independent of his thought. Elaine followed that rhythm until he was grunting like an animal, clinging to his bed while he exploded in Elaine’s mouth. She withdrew from him, but not in disgust. She was smiling when she appeared, hovering over him. She pressed against his body in an embrace and then she kissed him. He was shocked to find her mouth warm and gooey, his cum still on her tongue. The taste of it was shared between them, their tongues dancing, both painted by his semen. The tastes of it was startling at first, then it filled his mouth and spun his thoughts again until he wasn’t sure what he thought of it, only that he wanted this kiss to go on.

Sometime during Elaine’s ministrations, he must have passed out, chased into darkness by molten lust.