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Tammy S Debatable Journey Ch 01

Tammy S Debatable Journey Ch 01

by cathartico
19 min read
4.75 (6200 views)
adultfiction

Tammy's Debatable Journey Ch. 01

*Premise*

This story was inspired by a reader's blog about her secret sexual fantasies. The central themes are male dominance and female submission with a focus on sexual humiliation, exhibitionism, and rough sex. It's set in a heightened reality with over-the-top characters. This story plays with clichΓ©s and stereotypes in a satirical, ironic way. It shouldn't be taken too seriously or extrapolated to real life. The characters' actions and statements don't reflect the author's opinion. They're not intended as generalizations for any group of people. Always remember to keep it safe, sane, and consensual in real life.

---The kegger clash---

It was done! I handed in the test and breathed a sigh of relief before walking out of the lecture hall. The last exam of the semester. Finally, it was over - about damn time! Exam season had dragged on forever, like it would never end. To pass all the tests, I had neglected way too many things.

At the start of the semester, the coursework hadn't been too demanding yet. During exam season, however, it had almost become too much. After all, it wasn't just studying that kept me busy, there was also debating. That was the one thing I couldn't neglect because I'm a member of the university debate team and it gives me a scholarship. Without it, I couldn't afford going to college in the first place. Luckily, my passion for improving the world perfectly fits my social studies major. I'm always ready to challenge anyone who wants to take us back to the stone age. Arguing with misogynistic men until I've proven them wrong is like second nature to me.

Now that the exam was done, I was more than ready for summer break. I needed to recharge my batteries and a long bath would be a good start. Finally, I could focus on my hobbies again. For far too long, the things I love had taken a backseat -- like fashion, friends, and flinging darts. That's right! I'm a woman of many interests. I admit, fashion and darts seem like an odd pairing. And with good reason! One is a total girl thing, while the other is a real man thing. But I've never fit into a box anyway.

But enough about schoolwork! The summer break was here, and my best friend Ariana had big plans to kick it off in style. We both agreed that it was time to release the pent-up pressure from the exam season, but we disagreed on where to do it.

"Oh c'mon, Tammy!" Ariana practically begged me. "It's the biggest campus rager of the year. Everybody's going. You know, it's like a rite of passage."

Of course, she was talking about the legendary 'Yamos' kegger. One of the most notorious frats on campus hosting a party that was infamous for going completely off the rails. What could go wrong? Normally, I couldn't stand frat bros and their cocky attitudes, but Ari was dead set on going and I didn't want to disappoint her. To be honest, I couldn't deny that it sounded like the perfect place to blow off steam, so the matter was decided.

My first impulse was to hit the kegger in a casual top, capri pants, and comfy sandals. But when I saw Ariana getting all glammed up, I had a change of heart. Usually, I only get dressed up for my modeling jobs. That was enough glamour for me, so I preferred it casual in my personal life. But I didn't want to be a buzzkill, so today was the day that I dressed to impress!

No sooner said than done, I slipped into a sequin miniskirt that was ready to steal the spotlight! To keep the vibe going, I paired it with a one-shoulder silver metallic crop top and silver sequin sneakers that were made for busting out some dance moves -- simple but shiny.

And then it happened! The party was already in full swing by the time Ari and I arrived, so we grabbed some drinks and looked around for familiar faces. The mansion was a ridiculous relic of pomp and circumstance, but at least our glam style fit right in. Standing in the lounge, my bestie suddenly spotted a fellow student. It was Colton - the guy she'd been ranting about all semester long. Apparently, he never missed a chance to get under her skin in their computer science class. He'd constantly interrupt her, mansplain things to her, and make her look stupid in front of everyone - the whole nine yards!

Based on her stories, I had a pretty clear picture of the guy in my head: a loud-mouthed frat boy who'd peaked in high school, scraped by in college and was destined to crash and burn when the cold, harsh reality of working life hit him with his first real job. His fortunes were only going to go downhill from here. As predictable as they come!

To be perfectly honest, I was actually looking forward to meeting him. Part of me wanted him to say something stupid, so I could debate him and put another misogynistic man in his place. The moment I saw him, all my suspicions were confirmed. Mr. Know-It-All strutted into the lounge, like a total show-off. One look and it was obvious that he saw himself as the coolest guy with the best looks and biggest brain in the room. In reality, however, he was just the most privileged. His clothes were supposed to look stylish-yet-casual, but it was just posturing. The light blue polo shirt, sockless chinos and boat shoes were as clichΓ©d as they come.

But he didn't even notice us! Strolling right past us, he showed no reaction at all. Instead, he joined a group of fellow frat boys who were standing in the corner of the lounge. And then the inevitable happened! Despite the booming music, it didn't take long before we heard them laughing at their own dumb jokes.

"Yo, my bro! Take a look around," Colton nudged a guy who still sported frosted tips years after that trend had died a merciful death. "Check out all these chicks. You can tell they've come for one reason 'n' one reason only."

"Oh, mosdef! They're all just begging for attention," the guy called Hunter tossed his head towards us. "They don't even try to hide it."

The gesture caught me off-guard. He must have been trying to show off his outdated hairstyle or something. He couldn't possibly mean Ari and me. No way!

"Exactly, bro!" a musclehead named Chet had to chime in. "Attention whores, every last one of 'em! Buncha gold diggers hoping to bag a rich dude."

"Yeah! Look how they're checking us out!" Colton snorted. "They're practically ready to sign a prenup. Trophy wives in training, man! They know exactly what they're doing."

Jesus! These baseless allegations weren't just wrong, they were totally cringe! Listening to that stream of bullshit was painful. I was damn close to jumping in and ripping them a new one. But instead, I flipped my long, chestnut hair over my shoulder to signal my rejection and dismiss their advances. Try as I might, however, I couldn't stop eavesdropping, snorting louder with every dumb comment. But that didn't stop them. If anything, it spurred them on, and this Colton guy kicked it up a notch.

"Oh, for sure! I'm just here to have fun. Like totes, you know?" he had the nerve to mimic a brain-dead bimbo.

What the hell? I could only roll my eyes when I heard this silly imitation. For his own sake, I hoped he hadn't tried to imitate me.

"Yeah, right!" Colton changed his voice. "More like, 'I'm just here to bag a future CEO! I can never be a boss, I'm just bossy, so I need a rich man who pays for the maintenance staff I can boss around'."

Holy shit, another imitation! This one sounded a lot more like me. In response, the frat boys burst out laughing, while I clenched my fists in anger. It seemed like all these Yamos bros were cut from the same cloth. But wait! I had learned in my social studies class that it's stupid to generalize, so I tried to keep an open mind, even though it was easier said than done with these major morons.

"It's like they've got it all planned out," Chet scoffed while his fellow fratsters continued to holler. "Forget careers! Why work when you can just marry into money, right?"

"Yeah, these chicks, they're gonna be arm candy by graduation day." Hunter grinned. "I'm calling it now!"

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No way, never gonna happen, boy! Even if he didn't say it outright, it was clear that he meant Ari and me. This was total bullshit! Even though we were dressed up to the nines, we were the furthest thing from trophy tarts at this party.

"Money for nothing 'n' dicks for free." Colton started singing in a mocking voice.

And of course, the rest of the guys quickly joined in on the chant, clicking their glasses and acting as if their observations deserved the Nobel price. The whole scene was so cringeworthy that I had to distract myself before I did something rash. This was a party, after all. I was here to have fun!

It worked, but only for a while. Ari and I struck up a conversation with a group of sorority sisters, but it quickly became clear that they fit the guys' description of gold diggers to a tee. They were only there to hunt for future rich husbands. This was so stupid! I couldn't believe these modern, educated women had no problem reinforcing the guys' preconceptions. It left me seething!

I wanted no part of that, so we quickly split from that chick clique. Just then the frat pack finished their drinks and headed over to the kitchen. On their way, they barged past Ari and me. Without a second thought, they shoved us out of the way. Apparently, the need for beer was more important than basic manners. So typical! But at least, it silenced their nonsense, and I didn't have to listen to their stupid laughter anymore.

But then, out of nowhere, Colton froze, right in the middle of the room. He'd recognized us long ago, no question about it, but now he wanted to throw a comment our way. A smug grin spread across his face as he turned towards us. The moment our eyes met, I turned my nose up and looked away, trying to signal that we weren't interested. But of course, he didn't care. Instead, he made a beeline for us, his swagger growing with every step.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," he smirked.

After giving me a patronizing look, he mustered Ariana from head to toe, like he was buying meat at a butcher's counter.

"Glad you've figured out you're better at dressing up than discussing algorithms," he told my bestie, his tone dripping with condescension.

"And you brought your sparkle sidekick," he finally turned to me. "The trophy besties - what a dope tag team!"

Now, it was my turn to be sized up by the privileged prick. He showed the same reaction I'd seen many times before. A lot of people have told me my looks are a unique combination -- the innocent face of an angel and the hot body of a swimsuit model. But I'd never let these compliments get to my head. I didn't want to be defined by superficial stuff like that. I wanted to be known for my skills, not just my looks.

"A girl that fits the chick vibe in this place! Nice to meet you," the elite douche said with an approving nod.

Oh jeez! Mr. Know-It-All must have confused us with that chick clique we just escaped. But he kept a straight face, telling me all I needed to know. The entitled idiot knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to trigger us! Gazing deep into my dark brown eyes, he waited for a reaction, but I didn't play along.

Despite my big, gentle doe eyes, I wasn't easily intimidated. Even though every fiber in my body screamed to shut this jerk down, I didn't want to make a scene, so I clenched my jaw and forced a polite smile. Ari, on the other hand, couldn't keep her cool - not after suffering his mansplaining all semester long. Claiming she needed a drink, she hastily ducked out.

That left me alone with the pompous clown. For some twisted reason, though, I didn't follow my friend. Instead, I kept the conversation going. I wanted to dissect this guy and light him up. Someone had to stand up to this arrogant ass, and apparently, that someone was me.

"So, you're the party girl 'n' your bestie's the frigid bitch," Colton stated like it was a well-known fact. "Out for a good time, huh?"

"Party girl?" I raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean? Just 'cause I'm here to have fun? That doesn't mean I'm a ditsy airhead."

I can't even say why I defended myself. I could have just followed Ari out of the room, letting that idiot stand there looking stupid. His arrogant attitude incensed me, but I still tried to keep my cool. If there was one thing I'd learnt on the debate team, it was never to let your opponent see your true feelings.

"Right. Sure, you're not." The smug jerk chuckled while he sized me up like I was today's trophy. "But hey, you've got that look about you. The crazy hot mess - fun between the sheets, a headache anywhere else. Not a bad combo!"

Wow! One remark, and my patience was already exhausted. The nerve of this privileged prick! He had the audacity to judge me from a single glance, instantly labeling me as a giggly gold digger. Even if I was dressed like a glamour gal, so what? It didn't mean I was a party-loving, sex-obsessed chick, too dumb to care about anything else.

"Glad I meet your high standards," I shot back.

Even though my voice was dripping with sarcasm, I couldn't resist adding some extra flair. Flipping my long, chestnut mane over my shoulder, I showed my defiance and also flexed my looks. Showing off my smooth, silky hair and long swan-like neck, I rubbed it in his face that he'd never get his hands on me.

"Don't kid yourself," the cocky jock responded with a shrug that was way too casual. "No real standards there! You just got that face."

Holy shit! This entitled idiot had managed to make things worse, and all it took was one remark. His comment was so offensive! The guy was seriously starting to get under my skin!

"You know, I got a brain too," I crossed my arms. "It's not just smiles 'n' pouts."

"Yeah, yeah," he looked like he was getting bored. "Whatever you tell yourself..."

And that was it! The elite douche ended the debate before it even began. He just strolled away, leaving me standing there. He didn't even bother to give me a straight answer. Instead, I heard him mutter under his breath:

'You pronounced boobs wrong...'.

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What an offensive remark! Hearing it made me gasp. This had gone too far! I know, I shouldn't have cared, but he was such a sexist scumbag that it made me curious. How the hell did he get away with it? For some reason, I felt the need to find out what his comment was supposed to mean. There were only two possibilities: the 'don't fuck with me' vibe of a cool chick or the stupid grin of a clueless cutie. Whatever it was, neither the 'resting bitch face' nor the 'giggly ditz face' applied to me.

Although I knew better, I couldn't let it go. My competitive spirit kicked in. I had to win this argument -- no matter what. And before I realized it, my legs were already moving. Chasing after the arrogant ass, I reached him in the kitchen where he was tapping himself a fresh beer from the keg.

"Oh, so you came to show us both your brains." Colton turned towards me, flashing a self-assured smile.

Taking a swig, he leaned against a cupboard, acting as if he had all the time in the world. The fact that I'd followed him only made his grin that much cockier, like he'd already won this battle of wits. I hesitated, taken aback by his bluntness. Glancing around the room, I noticed that I'd stumbled right into a circle of frat boys - the musclehead Chet, the eternally-frosted Hunter, and a few others I didn't recognize. They were all standing in the kitchen without another woman in sight. Damnit, this was enemy turf! But that only made me more determined.

"You wish!" I rolled my eyes at the sexist comment.

"So, you're just gonna lecture us 'bout frat culture then?" Colton sounded almost disappointed.

"Oh, I can multitask," I finally found my confidence back. "Enough for a moron like you. We both know you can't keep up with my smarts."

"It should be you showing me that brain dangling between your legs. Lucky for you, no woman likes dick pics." I added triumphantly.

That hit home! I finally got the upper hand, and I wasn't letting up now. Time to put this shitbird in his place! Colton's startled reaction encouraged me. He looked like he hadn't expected this kind of pushback. So, his smirk wavered -- but only for a moment.

"Look at that! Generalizing much? Did you just measure all women by the same 'yardstick'? Pun intended!" He got his act together, just when I went for the kill.

And with that, the glint of arrogance was back in his eyes -- thicker than ever.

"So now, it's you deciding for all women what they're allowed to like 'n' not like?" He pointed out while his smug tone crept back into his voice. "That's a double standard if I've ever seen one!"

Oh shit! Now, it was my turn to be taken by surprise. This was going in the wrong direction. I should have the upper hand! After all, I was the debate pro. But something was distracting me.

Without thinking about it, I got into a defensive stance. As I crossed my arms, my skin brushed against the fabric of my top, making me painfully aware of my tit size. They were nice 30C cups - perky, sensitive, and perfectly balanced. Just how I like them! But I couldn't help wondering if that cocky jock would choose outrageously big, fake porno tits over my pretty handfuls.

"Okay, fair point." I gave an inch. "If I'm wrong to generalize about women, then maybe you shouldn't generalize about them either."

"Yeah,..." Colton leaned his head to the side like weighing his options. "Only difference - I'm not generalizing, I'm observing."

"Look around, chica!" he made a sweeping gesture with the beer in his hand. "These chicks 'round here, you think they're hanging out with guys like us 'cause they like our sense of humor? Nah! You're not that naΓ―ve, are you?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snapped back, impatiently drumming my nails on the kitchen table.

Damnit! Once again, I followed my impulse, even though I knew better. But somehow, I made every rookie mistake in the book today. As I rapped the kitchen table with my manicured nails, the silver glitter polish sparkled in the light, drawing the guys' attention. It perfectly matched my sequin skirt, proving my impeccable taste, but it also diverted my focus.

"It means," Colton leaned forward to mansplain things to me. "These chicks are hoping to bag a guy like me. Men with money 'n' connections. You know, future husbands aka future wallets."

Making another sweeping gesture, he pointed at his frat pack. As his bros erupted in approving cheers, I hesitated. Arguing against these gross generalizations was hard enough, but it didn't help that most of the women at the party fit the stereotype. I'd stumbled into a right mess here!

"That's just lazy." I finally said, trying to sound firm. "You're assuming everyone here has the same motive. That's lazy AND sexist."

"Oh, you're wrong, honey! I think it only applies to half of these chicks." Colton took a long sip of his beer. "And the other half? They're gold diggers in disguise - like you 'n' your bestie."

Oh damn! That was no way to debate! You'd never hear such cheap shots in official competitions, so I wasn't used to dealing with them.

"You're disgusting," I shot back, letting my impulses take over again. "You flaunt your money 'n' think you can get anyone to do your bidding. That says more about you than it does about us women. It just shows that you're shallow."

I was getting back on the offensive and the crowd noticed. They held their breath, seemingly impressed by my reasoning.

"Tell me then," Colton was the only one who remained unfazed. "Why are you over here talking to us shallow shitheads? Shouldn't you be chatting with those emotionally available but financially broke dudes you like so much better?"

The frat boys let out a collective

'woah'

. It was a good point - they knew it and I knew it too. It completely stole my thunder, putting me on the defense.

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