Her stepdaddy's hands stroked her hair, his fingertips brushing down her back, as he finished unknotting her locks. He knew that relaxed her.
"Don't keeping pulling at your shirt," he said gently, bringing her hand back to her side. "You'll only stretch out the fabric that way."
Lila knew he was right, but it was hard not to keep adjusting her clothes. She watched herself and James in the mirror as he separated her hair down the middle for braiding. All she could see were how massive her tits looked in her spaghetti-strap shirt. It was impossible: Even if they bought an extra-large shirt, it wouldn't contain her tits, and then the material would be loose around her waist. They settled for a medium, which clung flatteringly around her waist but wasn't nearly big enough to contain her colossal tits. The top of the shirt just barely covered her nipples, and whenever she saw a flash of pink she pulled it up.
There was nothing that could be done about her shorts. Her stepdaddy had picked them out, as he'd picked out all of her outfits since she was twenty. In her old university he'd helped her dress modestly, back when she'd been trying to evade the harassment of her college peers. But now they were going for a new approach.
The jean shorts clung so tightly that she had to wear a G-string underneath. She was well aware of the way they emphasized her ass, not quite showing her cheeks.
It was a risky outfit. What if this wasn't actually acceptable, and her stepdaddy had made a mistake? Not that he'd make a mistake, but -
"You're pouting again, angel," said James softly, his thumb reaching around to brush her bottom lip.
It tickled; she smiled at him in the mirror.
"What if Principal Sale is offended by what I'm wearing?" she said.
"Aw, sweetie. I promise you, this is nothing like your last college. No one's going to bother you here."
"I know, but what if I'm supposed to cover up more?" she asked.
Her stepdaddy kissed her hair. "Does your stepdaddy make mistakes?"
"No," she said immediately. He never had. He had saved her from her awful college and found her a new one, in a new town, with a great, big house for them to boot.
"Look at these pretty braids. Do you like them?"
His adept hands always finished quickly, and she could see, moving her head from side-to-side, that her twin braids weren't too loose, had no frizz. He'd learned to do hair just for her.
"I love them," she said, and he gave a brown braid of playful tug, making her laugh.
"And I love these," he said, wrapping his arms around her to give her tits a squeeze. They were bigger than his huge hands, and although he pressed softly her nipples still popped out of her shirt.
She moaned, closing her eyes in embarrassment. What if that happened in front of the president of the university?
"If you do that in front of President Sale," he said, reading her mind like always, "he will love you."
--
Stellar University was in the heart of the Stellar City, a white-stone campus, its main building held up by Corinthian columns. Lila remembered that from the awful architecture class she'd taken her freshman year of school - her stepdaddy had been so distraught over the difficulty she'd had in that course.
James took her hand and led her up the white stone steps. Luckily no one else was around; she could feel her tits bouncing, and her shorts were giving her a wedgie. The school year hadn't started yet, so the halls were clear, too. James had already visited the school and knew the way to the president's office. He walked her down marble-floored corridors.
They had scarcely stepped into the secretary's office when she looked up, saw James, and stood. She bowed her head and said, "Mr. Strike. President Sale will be right with you."
Lila was struck still.
The secretary didn't even glance at Lila, but her tits swayed as she stood. She wore a pencil skirt and blazer, but the blazer crushed her chest. Her tits were nowhere the size of Lila's, who had given up on wearing bras years ago, but she was busty. It gave Lila a tingle of delight, made her feel less alone.
--
The secretary led James and Lila through the president's office door. President Sale was seated behind the desk.
He was younger than Lila had imagined. He ran the best business school in the country, passed down over generations, but looked to be in his mid-thirties. He was a big, broad-shouldered man in a jacket that couldn't entirely hide his slight gut. She found the beer belly comforting; it made him seem paternal.
"Mr. Strike," he greeted. His voice was baritone, matching his figure. "And Lila."
When he said her name, tingles washed over her body. He looked at her with a sparkle in his eye, appreciatively, and she knew that James had done her right by dressing her in this way.
James pulled out a chair for her and she sat. Behind President Sale, on several glass shelves, were educational accolades and awards. She didn't need the proof to know he was a good leader: It was confirmed through her abrupt and absolute need to be accepted into this university. Because being accepted would mean he approved of her, which meant, suddenly, everything.
"Shall we get straight to business?" said President Sale. She could listen to his voice forever. He reached for a vanilla folder on his desk and said, "Lila has a mediocre academic record."
Her stepdaddy nodded. She felt instinctively that she wasn't supposed to speak, which was a relief. She was tired of offering explanations about fake migraines, unfair professors, et cetera, when in reality she was just sick of classes. She had never studied and she knew, deep down, that she never would.
"She did particularly poorly in her math and science courses," said President Sale.
"She's not good with numbers," her stepdaddy acknowledged with a nod, reaching out to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Here at the University, we don't hold a girl's quantitative reasoning skills - or lack of - against her," said President Sale.
"What?" Lila blurted.
President Sale turned to her, looking momentarily astonished that she had spoken. But he quickly collected himself and said, "Well, of course not. That would be very unfair, wouldn't it? The girls who excel at math and science are unnaturally stressed, and I don't believe my students should ever face anything like that. So here at the University, girls are
barred
from doing any kind of calculations. It's a stress preventative."
Lila had never heard anything so wonderful in her life.
"So," he continued, "we took her math and science courses out when calculating her GPA. But even so... It's not very high, is it?"
"Lila really found herself in extracurricular activities," said her stepdaddy diplomatically.
