The day after, "If we are done, I'd appreciate it if you deleted those videos."
No reply.
Ah well. Finals were coming, he could do without the distraction of dealing with Rose. So for the next several weeks, he went to classes, he studied, he sleep walked through the parties at his frat. Oh, and he kept going to the gym to do his butt exercises, every night. Early on, he told himself he was doing it for purely pragmatic reasons, he wanted to be doing what he was told in case Rose called on him again, didn't want to give her any reason to release the videos. But... by the end of the semester he was pretty certain she wasn't going to hear from her again, but he was still going. His butt was getting noticeably firmer, rounder; he'd even gotten good at doing the squats. Maybe his new ass would be attractive to, you know, non-dickgirls. That's surely why he kept doing it, right?
But then there was the fact, honestly pretty revealing when he thought about it, that he almost never jerked off to anything other than thoughts of Rose anymore. It was funny, ever since he was young, masturbation time had always been a self apart from himself; he'd never admit he was doing it, obviously, and so he'd never have to admit what he was doing it to. He would do things like deny that he could ever be into, say, eating ass, and mean it, and then remember a week later that he'd jerked off to the idea a dozen times. And so it crept up on him, the realization that Rose was all he was thinking about when his hand went down to play with his cock.
Once he was aware of it, he tried to make himself stop, tried to make himself jerk off to the thought of Kim or just any other girl who didn't have a dick. And sometimes he would succeed in squeezing a mediocre orgasm out to the thought of another girl. More often, he'd give up and think about Rose again, feel his cock get harder when he gave into thoughts of her brilliant green eyes, the scar running down her face, and her big hard cock. The crazy thing was, even though he could barely get it up to the thought of any other girl, he could reliably jack off to thoughts of Rose three or four times in a day if he had the time, weekend days usually. First one of the day, he'd usually be entertaining fantasies, fairly implausible he knew, of nice, gentle sex between him and Rose, maybe her letting him be the one fucking her, maybe, if he were feeling submissive, him riding her cock, or even letting her fuck him gently. As the day went on and his dick got sorer, the fantasies got rougher, more violent, more... well, more like what being with Rose was actually like.
Sometimes he'd get himself over the point of no return with thoughts of Rose and then make himself think about someone else while the cum sprayed out of him, just so he could tell himself he wasn't thinking about her during that cum.
So the spring semester wound into summer break and he went home, started up at his old summer job again, grunt work for the municipal government, lot of filling cracks in the roads, lot of trash pickup. His mother was disappointed that he hadn't gotten an internship for the summer. In truth he hadn't even applied to any. That would've been a good idea, huh?
So he worked, he slept, and when he wasn't doing either of those he spent as much time as possible away from his parents' house. He lied and said he was hanging out with friends, but mostly he was driving around, or hanging out in parks, or loitering at the mall, or at the gym, doing the butt building exercises Rose had assigned him. Interacting with humans as little as possible, because at some point he'd stopped being Dylan, the old Dylan that everyone around here knew, and he didn't want them to notice.
He eventually just gave into the thoughts of Rose, accepted that she was all he could think about. He'd walk around the park imagining that she was walking him on a leash, go to the mall and linger by the women's clothes, imagine Rose forcing him to wear this skirt or that dress. Some days he thought he might be in love with her. Some days he was certain of it. Most days he knew better than that, but always she was on his mind.
The damn futa cum. He would often think, bitterly, that they only ended up having two of the threatened weekly sessions, and yet because of his fumbling attempts to get out of it he ended up receiving six total loads of futa cum, right into his rectum. Should've left well enough alone, he'd for sure be craving cock less if he hadn't bothered. But she'd emphasized so often that he was trapped, that he'd have to keep doing her bidding. Based on the information he had at the time, it made sense to try to escape... but why bother trying to defend his actions? It was a series of embarrassing failures that had gotten him fucked over and over. His manhood was doomed now.
Ah well, if his manhood was doomed, if he wasn't the old Dylan anymore... well, there were worse things. This summer he noticed, for the first time, that everyone else he worked with at the city seemed to hate his guts. Initially, he was confused by how that could've happened, but as the summer went on he kept having little flashbacks, remembering times he'd been condescending or rude to the others. It was funny, it seemed so alien to him now, but he really did used to think of himself as a superior being to these guys, because he was going to college while they mostly hadn't, because he was thoughtful and introspective and concocted grand theories of human nature while they were more focused on the day to day grind. How silly. The past year had been a crash course in exactly how much of a moron he was.
He'd occasionally run into people from high school, most of whom didn't seem to like him either. The girl he'd made cry by shit-talking her debate team performance was working at the Rally's on Vine, staring at him with angry eyes as she handed him his food. The brother of a girl who's titties he'd liked to grab was walking in the park with his girlfriend; he stared right at Dylan and began whispering to her, he watched the girl's face turn to contempt as he walked by.
Was it a feminized tendency, caring about these things? The old Dylan certainly would've thought so. The old Dylan thought so highly of himself, and if people had a problem with him, well, they were just losers. He didn't want to be like that anymore. He didn't know how to get all these people who disliked him to like him better, but he was determined to stop giving them new reasons.
He did as Rose said, and let his hair grow out. By the end of summer, his hair was long enough to tie into a stumpy ponytail. His mother complained about it at least once a day. Ah well. He'd be back at school soon enough. Staring in the mirror at it, he would often contemplate that even now that it was longer, it didn't look particularly like girl hair, just overgrown boy hair.
Did he want it to look like girl hair? Maybe.
The new semester started, and quickly it was a running joke among his brothers that he'd become a hippy. Whenever they would say that he'd just affect a nasally stoner voice and say, "Yeah maaaaan," and shoot them a peace sign. Usually got a chuckle. Besides that, he was still pretty distant from these meatheads, repulsed by the salacious predatory way they'd talk about girls.
There was a party at the frat house the first Friday after the semester began, but Dylan didn't want to be there. He was walking up into town, hoping he could meet some kind of person to talk to. Not even a girl necessarily, just... a friend, someone human. Main St. was choked with people, so he was going up a side street when he heard her voice:
"Hey boyyyys! Any of you wanna fuck my friend here?"
It was Rose, he knew that immediately. He glanced in the direction her voice was coming from; by now, he could see a group of boys start to scatter, could hear comments like, "What the fuck?" and "Get this freakshow away from me." And there she was, in the middle of the sidewalk, standing there with another boy, who was dressed in a black tank top and fishnets and a little black skirt, on the end of a leash.
So, there's the new boy, Dylan thought. He felt a stab of some emotion, couldn't define what it was but it was definitely a stab.
"Hey, fuck you too!" Rose shouted after the boys, then turned to the boy on her leash to talk to him more quietly. Dylan watched them in the darkness for a few moments, before he saw Rose's eyes lock on to him and light up with recognition.
He ran in the opposite direction. From behind him he heard her voice calling out, "Heyyyy boy! Whatcha doin' out so late after dark?"
He kept running back until he reached the frat house, made his way through the throng of people upstairs to his room, headphones in to blot out the noise of the party, and whatever thoughts his head might fill with after seeing Rose again.
Of course it didn't change anything, he knew she had a new boy, no prizes for guessing she was putting him in girly clothes. And yet having a face for his replacement, seeing the two of them together... He hadn't felt jealous before, but every time he thought about the sight of those two he wanted to smash the other boy's face into the concrete, see how quick Rose dropped him once he wasn't pretty anymore. It was genuinely interfering with his ability to jerk off, every time he thought about Rose now he'd start thinking about her with the boy and got mad again.
It was a Friday two weeks later that he found himself walking down 4th Street again, and he saw Rose sitting out on the porch of Sodom House, feet hanging over the edge, smoking a cigarette. She seemed glum. He stopped in his tracks and stood there looking at her for a while; it was some time before she glanced up and noticed him.
"Hey," she said, in a low energy tone of voice.
"Hey," he said back, and then, "haven't heard from you in a while."
"Yeah, you're welcome," she muttered. She looked down, then a moment later glanced back at him. "What, are you just gonna stand there staring at me? Fuck off. Or... come over?"
Obviously, Dylan told himself, he should fuck off. And yet when his legs started moving, they were taking him up the walkway to the porch, and then up the stairs to sit down beside her. Not even looking up at him, she reached her hand out and pinched his nipple hard through his shirt.
