Lila lay in bed between her stepdaddy's legs, both of them naked and sated and relaxed. He rubbed her shoulders and stroked his fingers through her hair as he did every night, to lull her off to sleep.
Her closet door was open and stuffed with the new clothes he'd bought her. Upon investigation, they'd learned that University Sale's dress code was very precise. For men, the dress code pamphlet said that suits and ties were required, and briefcases preferred. For women, however, the rules went on for sixteen pages, including strict rules against pants, shorts, and skirts longer than six inches. Lila was yet to wrap her mind around that. In the case that a girl's skirt should fall to her knees, it must be removed immediately. She had never heard of such a thing in her life.
All panties and bras were forbidden. High heels were mandatory and had to be stilettos not less than four inches high. Luckily Lila enjoyed walking in stilettos more than any other shoes, but with her massive breasts it was easy for her to lose balance.
James's thumbs rubbed circles around her earlobes. All her worries were for tomorrow. Right now, there was only her stepdaddy, his deep breathing, and the warm, dark bedroom of their new apartment.
--
The campus was teeming with students. Lila's stepdaddy had dropped her off, but now she was alone. She was aware of men's eyes on her as she walked through the halls of the main building.
She was wearing what she'd dubbed in her head as 'the impossible dress.' It was made of white, stretchy material, and it was impossible because, when she pulled it down, her tits threatened to entirely fall out of it, and when she pulled it up, her pussy and ass peeked out. There was no happy medium, and so, in matching, white stilettos, she was forced to walk down the halls with an inch of her cheeks showing and a hint of her nipples displayed.
She couldn't look down and see herself, even as the men around her gave her friendly waves and smiles. She felt sick with humiliation and imbalanced in her heels, her swaying tits a constant struggle. Falling was a definite possibility.
"Hey there." A warm, deep male voice distracted her from her self-consciousness.
He stood in front of her, forcing her to stop in her tracks. Her lips parted; everything around her blurred except for him. He had deep-set dark eyes, a long nose and high cheekbones; rich black curls swept over his forehead. His features were striking and extreme, his ethnicity impossible to distinguish -- perhaps Brazilian or Lebanese. All was saved from an excess of severity by the softness found within his eyes.
He towered over her, broad-shouldered beneath his black suit, but leaned down accommodatingly when he held out his hand.
She went to shake it, but his hand continued forward. He took her left tit and said, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Kodi."
As if her tit were her hand, he leaned down and kissed it, then proceeded to her right one.
No one around her glanced over as if this were odd. Her heart was pounding, but he, too, found his own behavior perfectly natural, so she let her hand drop and stood speechless.
Kodi's lips curved in a charming smile. "You're exceptionally beautiful. I'm sure I'll see you again."
He left her there, struggling to keep steady in her stilettos, and disappeared down the hall amidst a mass of other suit-clad men and skimpily-dressed girls.
She regained her composure and continued down the hall. A bouncing weight on her chest made her look down, and she realized that, when Kodi had leaned down to kiss her tits, he'd used his hand to pull down her dress.
Her nipples were on full display.
She looked around anxiously to see if anyone else noticed, and, sure enough, strange faces were peering at her; some jeering; one man whistled. She covered her chest with her arm and, heart beating, looked for an exit.
A janitor's closet was at the end of the hall, and she tiptoed to it as fast as she could in her heels. She closed its door behind her and switched on a light. She was surrounded by buckets and spray bottles.
She quickly pulled up her mini-dress. The material strained over her tits, and the cool air hitting her pussy made her realize she'd pulled it up too far. She yanked it down again, only for her tits to pop out. This struggle continued for some time, during which she yearned for James's help.
Finally she emerged and made her way to her first class, Business Basics. She was aware that her ass and nipples were showing and aware that there was nothing she could do about it.
As she came in, the professor stopped speaking. He turned to her, as did the students in the room. The door led not to the back of the lecture room, so that she could have snuck in, but to the front-and-center floor.
The professor -- a balding, blue-eyed man in spectacles -- sighed as if Lila's presence were a sudden burden.
She looked to the seats but couldn't see a free one on the ends of any of the rows. There must have been fifteen men and as many girls looking at her.
"You're late," said the professor. His voice made it clear that finding a seat and pretending to take notes would not be a way out of this.
She glanced at the clock. It was 9:01 A.M. Sixty seconds tardy.
The door opened again, and behind her two rowdy, laughing men came in. They fist-bumped each other before finding seats in the middle rows.
The professor ignored them, even as they noisily unclicked their briefcases and shuffled around for pens and paper.
"You're a new student," he said.
"Y-yes, sir," she all but whispered. The professor held an authoritative air; one which brought out in her a natural 'sir.'
"I don't tolerate any kind of tardiness," he said. "This class begins at 9 A.M. sharp, and I expect you to be seated at that time."
"Yes, sir," she said. Hot tears were forming behind her eyes; it was her first day and she'd already screwed up. The professor was frowning at her, and she felt she wouldn't be able to move until he allowed her to do so.
"Well," he said, and he turned to the seated students. "A first strike, then?"
"First strike!" yelled out a young man, fist pounding against his desk. A low, masculine laughter erupted, and it set Lila's heart thumping as if she were a cornered deer.
The professor -- Bawson, she remembered suddenly -- turned to her and said, "I find that humiliation is the most efficient way to punish girl students." He stepped behind his podium, leaned down, and retrieved something. "Put this on and stand in the corner while your punishment is prepared."
He handed her a white, conical hat -- a dunce cap -- and when she turned it around, she saw that the words, "STUPID BITCH" were written across it. Her breath hitched. Surely this wasn't allowed? Not in a proper university?
But Professor Bawson seemed deadly serious.
Stupid bitch. For being late. The pressure built behind her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and the apology elicited chuckles from the men in the front row. Professor Bawson was unmoved; he said, "Face the wall."
She put on the cap, body flaming with shame, and went to the front corner. She could feel men's eyes on her: The stupid bitch in the dunce cap, ass half-exposed.
