Like similar stories in the genre, University Transformation contains depictions of sex, humiliation, blackmail, non-consent/reluctance and forced feminisation. Reader discretion is advised.
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Chapter Two
Samuel returns home to enjoy himself, and his mother. After rejection in class, a new addiction takes hold.
***
His knees were still wobbling as Samuel finally opened his eyes. His cock continued to twitch in his hand as the last few droplets of cum splashed on the plush carpet below. His panties were tucked firmly under his balls and into his ass. ‘Oh my God.’ He thought breathlessly. He was still trying to catch his breath as his chest heaved in and out. ‘That was amazing.’ He couldn’t remember having a more intense orgasm.
He didn’t know what had come over him: the sudden erection as he entered his room; the intense desire to rub his cock; the tempting sight of his male body in female underwear; and his carelessness to let his seed spray all over the carpet, knowing that it would probably stain and potentially be seen by his mother. He’d never felt these feelings before and he didn’t know what it meant. All he knew for certain was that his twitching cock had loved it.
“Sammie, do you want me to come in?” His mother asked, tapping on the door. “We can talk in your room if you prefer?”
‘Oh fuck!’ He panicked. ‘She can’t see me like this!’ He was still wearing just his hoodie and panties – his mother couldn’t find him looking like this!
Turning to face the closed bedroom door he shouted out to her: “No, no! It’s fine, I’m coming down now. Just getting into my pyjamas.” It was a lie. He hadn’t worn pyjamas in years, but it was all he could think of saying to her to keep her from coming in and seeing him.
His mouth kept talking as he raced over to his chest of drawers and starting digging around for pyjamas. The words were as much a surprise to him as they were to her: “I thought we could have a film and snack night on the sofa? I just want to wear something comfortable”.
“Oh…OK. Well sure, we can do that. Come downstairs when you’re ready. I’ll start cooking some food for us, baby.”
“Great! Yep – will do.” He quickly responded as he whipped off the panties and instinctively stuffed them under his mattress; the last thing he wanted was his mother to discover them in his chest of drawers when she was putting away his laundry.
Once they were safely tucked away where he knew she would never look, Samuel quickly scrambled into his pyjamas. He hadn’t worn them in years, but they still fitted fine, even if they did look a little worn.
He was just about to leave his bedroom when the white gloopy streaks he’d deposited on the carpet caught his attention. ‘Hmm. What if mum sees them?’ He asked himself.
He was usually careful to cum into a tissue, but lost in the moment as he was, Samuel had just wanted to let his balls empty. Giving the noticeable streaks a quick inspection, he could tell they were already seeping into the fabric of the carpet. ‘Shit! It may leave a permanent mark!’
Looking around his bedroom, he couldn’t find anything useful to mop up his cum up with. ‘I’m just going to have to leave it. I can keep mum out of my bedroom tonight, then I’ll just have to see what I can do about it in the morning. Hopefully it won’t stain too badly…’
There was also a second problem. He’d wiped his hand on his smooth abdomen to get what cum had landed on it off. It had now dried up on his body and he began to smell the unmistakable scent of cum on himself and was worried his mother would notice.
‘I’m going to have to go downstairs smelling of cum.’ He knew he didn’t have any alternative. ‘She wants to hear about my day. I don’t have time for a shower!’
It already looked strange that Samuel had run straight to his room when he returned home and he had already been in there far longer than it took to change clothes. ‘She’s going to know something’s happening if I don’t go down now.’
Smelling slightly of his own semen was a risk he would just have to take.
***
Stacey was busy slicing chicken breasts in the kitchen when her son walked in: the smell of hot sauce and fresh vegetables greeting him as he entered. Noticing he had finally arrived downstairs she turned to him and smiled.
“Hey mum! How was your day? What did you get up to? Everything go OK? Food smells great!” Samuel said in an attempt to act casual, but coming across like an excited puppy. At least he didn’t seem nervous or guilty.
“Love the pyjamas, sweetie. Not seen them in years!” She said, waving the kitchen knife around to punctuate each word, before going on to ask: “Which answer do you want first?” She laughed and pulled a mock-confused face in response to her son’s barrage of questions upon entry.
“Oh, sorry! I’m just excited, you know. First-day-at-uni-energy and all that.” He made a mental note to calm down and start acting like a sane person.
“Well…work was good. Everything went fine…not that there was anything to go wrong. And yes, chicken fajitas; I thought we could have something tasty and fun to celebrate my little Sammie’s first day of university!” She said merrily.
Samuel’s mum was rarely ever in a bad mood; she was a self-professed positive person. She worked at – and was the proud owner of – a beauty clinic in town. It was the sort of place where women could spend hundreds of pounds and all day getting their eyebrows shaped and having their nails manicured. They could indulge in massages or receive full body waxes to remove hair that would otherwise ruin a swimsuit. Clients could have their make-up professionally applied for a special occasion. Or if they wanted something a little longer lasting: have their lips injected with filler for a plumper, more luscious, look. It was one-stop-shop for the image-conscious; and Samuel’s mother was the architect.
It was fair to say she was something of a walking advertisement for the full range of her offerings. Her blonde hair had a healthy shine. Her nails were always well-shaped and had a glossy finish (this week’s colour was baby pink with a white horizontal stripe at the tip). Her eyebrows were arched a little more than all his friends’ mums and her lips, which she would probably deny if you asked her (just like the breast implants she had treated herself to when her husband divorced) had been injected for a slightly fuller look than most other women would be comfortable going for.
Of course, like any good son, Samuel loved her. And yes, he was proud of what she had achieved both as a single mum and as a business woman. But over recent years, he had started to feel different about her. They had started to drift apart. She typically worked longer hours in the week and had occasionally started going into the clinic on weekends. Samuel had also started spend increasingly more time inside his bedroom playing video games. He was better connected to his virtual friends than he was with those in reality.