*****Refer back to part 1 for context. This story takes place in a free-use world, where women's use by men—all men—is normal, consensual, and widely accepted. All characters are over 18.****
It had been a long but satisfying first day at Free U. I had spent the better part of the afternoon underneath Jag's desk with his cock in my mouth, diligently milking it whenever he got bored or distracted in class and fished it out from his pants and wedged it between my lips.
His friends had gotten their opportunity to look me over, congratulating Jag on his luck. At one point in the hallways between classes, he'd been showing me off to a group of guys, my panties down around my ankles.
"She's got a pretty great asshole," Jag had said, pushing my legs apart. "Bend over and show them, Alice," he'd said. I smiled and bent over, pulling my cheeks apart to expose my cute pink asshole to all of them.
"Woah," they said, exchanging expectant looks.
Jag had licked an index finger and stuck it in to demonstrate it to them. Fortunately, I had trained my asshole extensively over the summer—dad had insisted on butt plugs being worn around the house and had taken the liberty of bending me over and stretching me out with his cock at least once a week.
"Can I?" one of the guys had asked.
Jag tapped my ass lightly. "Help yourself."
They all took turns sticking wet fingers in my ass as far as they could go, up to the knuckles, wiggling them around inside of me. I couldn't help how wet it had made my pussy, my asshole winking at them in anticipation, begging for them to just stick it in.
Everything was going better than I expected—I liked Jag well enough, his gruff nature growing on me over the course of the day. I still felt a pang of sadness or jealousy when I remembered that this hadn't been my first choice, but I was determined to make the best of it. The only thing worse than being stuck with a team I didn't particularly like was being stuck without one at all. So when I walked into the gym with Jag that afternoon, I felt determined to win his teammates over, to make this assignment work—and I felt genuinely confident I could do so.
But there was one problem that became apparent as soon as I entered the place: it smelled
awful
. I wasn't sure anymore if they would win
me
over smelling like this. It was a stale combination of sweat, must, and the raging hormones of twenty grown men.
Heavy, angry metal music coming from huge speakers shook the walls, and everywhere there were guys wrestling one another, sparring, screaming at no one in particular. I looked down at my pink ankle socks: I was incredibly, laughably, out of place. But I had to admit, there was something erotic about all of the aggressive energy around me. I felt totally powerless, a little afraid of what might happen when all these jacked-up men got a chance to put their hands on me, but also more than a little curious to see what would happen.
As I stood at the doorway of the gym, taking everything in, I watched Jag disappear into the fray, leaving me behind.
I tried to appear as if I belonged, stuffing my backpack into one of the plastic cubbies by the door, rearranging my ponytail, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I was attempting to look eager and easygoing, but it was hard to hide the growing sense of anxiety I felt about what I should expect. What was I going to spend the next hour and a half doing? Was Jag going to leave me by myself this whole time? It felt absurd and pathetic, but I couldn't help but wonder if the other guys would even
like
me, how I would fit in here. Surely I wouldn't have to pretend to be interested in the actual fighting.
I found a small bench in the corner of the gym and sat down, trying not to look out of place. I could see Jag greeting a group of guys in the corner; they all laughed and slapped one another on the back. They were talking amongst themselves, but the roar of voices in the gym made it impossible to decipher what they were saying. Eventually, I saw Jag wave me over.
He pulled me beside him and presented me to the group. "Alice, this is Cal, my co-captain. If you don't know what to do, just ask him, okay?" I felt like a little kid on the first day of school, being handed off from one minder to another.
I stuck out my hand to shake Cal's. He grabbed my hand in his and twirled me around, lifting up the hem of my shirt with a finger, letting my heavy breasts fall from the fabric. My huge nipples gleamed under the harsh gym light fixtures and hardened into stiff points. He took one between his fingers and pinched it, tugging on it until I squealed in pain. He let out a small groan of approval in return.
