Tammy's Debatable Journey Ch. 02

---Vintage Glam---

It was a scorching summer day, and I was sprawled out by my parents' pool, baking in the sun with nothing but time and tanlines on the agenda. Finally, I had a minute to relax after that long exam season. And damn, I deserved it!

Originally, I'd planned a girls' getaway with my bestie Ariana, but she'd signed up for some student job bootcamp instead. A real shame, but understandable. The tech world's a cut-throat business, especially for women trying to make it without being mansplained into oblivion. So, it made sense for her to take every chance she could to gain an advantage.

Me? I wasn't about to go solo on some sad little vacation, so I decided to stay in town and parked myself at my parents' place. Not exactly a big, bougie mansion but a cute house with a pool and enough shade to chill. The perfect setup to recharge, sip some icy drinks, and catch up with a few high school friends before the school stress came clawing back.

Lounging around at poolside, I let my brain float off. Exam season had ended with a bang at the 'School's Out' Yamos kegger. But let's NOT talk about that. I preferred to forget what had happened there. Moving on already!

Instead, I let my mind drift back to yesterday. After crisping under the sun for a few weeks, boredom had hit me, so I said screw it and picked up a local modeling gig. Yeah, that's right, I'm working as a model. It's not exactly Paris Fashion Week, but small-scale gigs - a handful of local ad shoots here and there. Nothing too glamorous, but a solid ego pump. I'm not out here chasing supermodel status, I just want to make a little extra cash on the side to spend on those overpriced chai lattes on my way to the next debate tournament.

That's my real passion. I'm on the college debate team, always ready to shred some crusty conservatives and brazen blowhards who think they can drag us back to the stone age. I live for sparring with misogynistic men until I've proven them wrong. And I always win - well, almost always. There was that night at the Yamos kegger that proved otherwise. But nope, not opening that Pandora's box today. Let's just say, even I have my off nights.

Moving on to that modeling gig! I'm so not the sentimental type when it comes to gigs, but this one was special. The shoot was for a local fashion label called 'Vibeur'. I know, the name was pretentious as hell, but the setup was dripping in luxury. We were shooting in a penthouse studio that screamed glitz and glamour - art deco mirrors, velvet drapes, and gowns hanging from vintage racks. Everything looked like it was straight out of old-school Hollywood.

Not my usual style! Normally, I'm all ponytail and sneakers -- except that one kegger where I let my chestnut mane flow down my back, so I could flip it over my shoulder whenever I needed to dismiss a fratboy. But again, not thinking about that party. Shoo, back to the photo shoot!

The stylist worked her magic, turning my ponytail into a cascade of wild waves that looked like a shimmering waterfall. The makeup? So elegant it made me glow like a timeless icon! The heels? Screaming danger when they clicked on the studio floor. Suddenly, I wasn't Tammy the snarky debate nerd but Tamara the glamazon. Standing on the stage, I soaked up everything -- the poses, the flashlight, the photographer's admiring stares. I owned the room and played with the camera like a natural!

And then the lens-lurker had the audacity to say something like, "Well, look at you. Ain't you just a pretty little doll?"

Ugh, way to ruin the mood, camera boy! Just because the set had the vibe of a bygone era didn't mean he had to resurrect the caveman commentary. I wanted to fire back and give a speech about the importance of respect and equality in the workplace. But nah, gotta pick your battles! And this wasn't the right place, so I held my tongue.

The moment I remembered that comment, it triggered a memory. And there I was - back at the Yamos kegger. Not again! But it was too late. Back there, I hadn't held my tongue. Instead, I'd gotten into a debate with the frat prez himself, and it had cost me dearly. His whole schtick about 'gold diggers' and 'trophy wives' was outdated as hell, making my blood boil! So backwards and so easy to debunk! But the bastard had bite. Despite my debating skills, I hadn't been able to put him in his place. Not because he was right -- hell no -- but because I wasn't expecting the combo of smug one-liners and sharp arguments. It had thrown me off my game. And so, Colton and his Colt had left a lasting impression on me.

About Colt! When that goddamn soul snatcher flashed through my mind, my grip on my energy drink tightened. Pressing it against my neck, the chill kissed my skin, just like that fresh breeze from the wind machine at the photo shoot. The memory snapped me back to the modeling gig. Every dazzling detail replayed in my mind. The scene had been so dramatic, like I was acting in some vintage noir flick -- minus the murder, plus the old-school sexism.

"Push your chest out, dollface. Let the wind play with your dress," the lensman said.

Really, dude? I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own brain. He had this whole fashion spread and all he cared about was a peek at my boobs? Classic!

At first, I wanted to pop off. But then I decided to let my action do the talking. Giving him some silent sass, I braved the wind and turned until my face was front and center, not my bust. Don't get me wrong, I got a nice pair of perky puppies, but they're not the headliners. My face is my real money maker - full lips, big doe-eyes, and a chin that doesn't back down in a debate. My angel-like features were the reason why I was a model in the first place.

And BAM! Just like that, the sexist instruction took me back to the Yamos house. There I was on the back porch with Colton. His hands grabbing me by the nipples. Dragging me around by my cherry tops. Leaving me helpless and exposed. I gasped when I felt a tingle in my rack. Not in my memory, in real time, right there by the pool. Jeez!

And then I realized I was pressing the energy drink against my boobs. The cold from the can radiated through my flimsy bikini, stiffening my nipples. Oh no, my body had gone full traitor! I quickly snatched the can away, letting out a shaky little breath. Phew! I'd just avoided a catastrophe there.

Once again, I snapped myself back to the modeling gig. Wearing that elegant gown on stage had been a total rush. But it also served as a reminder that beauty can be a powerful tool, just like arguments in a debate. It can turn heads and get men talking. Once they're drawn in, we can challenge their dumb stereotypes.

"C'mon, dollface, gimme that delicate-but-daring look." I heard the fashion snapper bark at me.

Letting out a short groan, I tried my best to stay cool. But the lens-lurker still caught my frustration.

"Soft 'n' strong, that's it! Roar for me!" he encouraged me.

At the pool, I let out a similar groan - not from frustration but from the ice-cold can I was pressing against my bikini bottom. Opening my eyes, my jaw dropped. My tanned legs were hanging over the armrests - left and right.

Oh shit! What the hell was happening? The words delicate but daring, soft and strong echoed in my head. The dichotomy sounded familiar. I knew exactly where this was going. Back at the party, I'd been determined to prove that women could be both smart and sexy. But in the end, it was the kegger king who'd shown me the real lesson - a colossal cock could make a good girl dickdrunk and dumb.

Sweet Jesus! The mere thought of his glorious girl-catcher was enough to make my pussy throb and my body tingle. I scanned the area to make sure no one could see me. My parents weren't home, but you can never be careful enough, can you? I hated it, but I couldn't stop sliding the small can up and down my crotch, my motions got quicker while my breath got choppier. Sweat poured down my toned stomach as my final attempts to resist dissolved into thin air.

It was happening. Again! My moans filled the backyard as my toes clenched. My body twisted on the sun lounger as I pushed my bikini bottom to the side and rubbed the cold tin against my bare skin.

Every day - every goddamn day -- the same shit happened while I was sprawled out in the sun. My mind began to wander, starting at the modeling gig and ending in the Yamos house. Days of rubbing my clit left me craving more than just my fingers. I needed something that resembled Colt - the wrist-sized pussy wrecker -- and I needed it to fill my fuckhole.

"Ahhh... god!" I yelped when the can slipped between my pussylips.

The energy drink split my slit -- crude and rough. The discomfort made me grunt, but I kept pressing. I needed more. I longed for something that stretched me out -- something, anything.

"Ahhh, ahhh... gosh!" I groaned as another inch slipped past my pink folds.

My soggy slot strained -- packed and overstretched. The pressure became unbearable, but every thrust sent an ecstatic jolt through my body. Now, that was a nice reminder of the fat fuckpole resizing my taut tunnel. Pleasure washed over me, drowning out any pain.

Hot damn! I needed more - deeper, faster, harder. With every thrust, I forced the can further up my fuckchannel. With each plunge, the warmth in my core heated up. Soon, my moans became unrestrained. And then squelching sounds joined in -- wet, raw, messy. Hell yeah, give me more of that!

My legs yearned to wrap around a man's waist and pull him inside me. My pussy longed to welcome a stiff shaft and feel the delicious friction of a mindless rutting fuck. My cunt walls contracted at the thought of milking a meat pipe until it blasted a huge cumload into my fertile young womb.

"Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh... gawd!" I let out a girlish whine.

Sweat poured down my tanned body as my hips jolted up from the lounger to meet the thrusts. Another inch slipped into my plush passage and fuckjuices gushed out in return. They sopped down my thighs, making my skin glisten in the sun. I slammed the can deeper and it bottomed out. There it was! A deep sigh escaped my lips when the can bumped against my cervix, just like Colton's cunt cleaver before. My body writhed around like a live wire. A carnal satisfaction gripped me. I wasn't just full, I was stuffed!

"Ungh, ungh, ungh, ungh... fuck!" My grunts were primal and animalistic.

My head thrashed side to side, my hips bucked up and down. Too much, too deep! My legs shot straight up, no effort on my part needed. My thighs twitched and my toes curled. The can grazed my cervix again and my cunt walls squeezed the tin. As if my tight tunnel was trying to crush that damn thing inside me! Endorphins exploded in my brain and a major orgasm erupted in my center, sweeping me away.

My eyes fluttered shut, my mind spinning back to the whirlwind of activities during the vintage photo shoot. The lensman telling me where to look, how to pose, when to smile. It was like a dazzling dance of glitter and glitz. Sure, a few things had rubbed me the wrong way, but nothing worth crying into my cold drink over. It had been an unforgettable experience! And now, I was thirsty for more. I couldn't wait to do it all over again.

There it was - that sweet itch, brewing in my loins! As soon as I'd cum, Colton and his Colt were out of my head, replaced by the desire to return to the glamorous world of fashion. But deep down, I knew that the can was no man. A guy pounding my pussy and filling my twat would be better. Colton controlling my body in a relentless rutting railjob, that was the thing I needed the most.

---Athleisure Glam---

That whole mess was a major wake-up call! It pushed me to get my ass moving for the rest of summer break. I knew I needed a distraction to keep those pesky thoughts from creeping back into my head. And that's where my love for darts came in handy. Yeah, I'm not just a pretty face, I'm also a member of a dart crew. We meet up at this crusty-but-cozy bar once a week to train, and on weekends we play tournaments against other crews. I even have a stage name: the 'Angelic Assassin'. My team came up with it because my soft features and big Bambi eyes make me look like an angel who couldn't hurt a fly when I've actually got the throwing skills to kill.

Only problem? Summer is off season, so there are no tournaments. But I didn't let that stop me. I called my crew and scheduled some training sessions. That was a first step, but it only filled a few days.

And then BOOM! The next week, the perfect opportunity slid into my DMs. It was Vibeur! They loved the results from my photoshoot and suggested a collab. They wanted me to be the face of their future. How wild is that? And before I knew it, I was the official promo queen for their new athleisurewear collection. Each day, they sent me some bomb-ass outfit to model - high-waisted joggers, bum scrunch leggings, the whole shebang. I'd throw on those fits, snap some selfies, and upload them to their socials. The gig was exactly what I needed to keep myself busy!

And with that, I had the perfect combo -- glam and grit. I got to dip my toes into the world of fashion while slinging darts in the laid-back atmosphere of a dive bar. And the best part? I was making big bucks while having a blast. What could be better?

Okay, let's keep it one hundred. If you want to model athleisurewear, you can't skip leg day. So, another activity got slapped onto my to-do list. I had to take my fitness routine to a whole new level. And what better place to snap some thirst traps than the gym? So, I started hitting the fitness center every day, turning my workouts into content. Another fab distraction!

And just like that, the summer break was over. Before I knew it, I was back at campus. At first, it was a total mind-bender! Sitting in lecture halls, rocking my trusted Campus kicks, loose pants and simple tops was so different to strutting around town in athleisure wear and shooting insta-reels. It was a weird vibe, but I was here for it!

Back in the dorm, I finally got to see my girl Ariana again. But we barely had time to catch up and celebrate our reunion. We were both too busy. For Ari it was that student job and for me it was Vibeur. Still, Ari instantly clocked that something had shifted in me. Modeling hadn't just pumped my ego but also cranked up my sass. Apparently, I didn't just strut with more spice, I also yapped with extra cheek. But can you blame me? I'm not here to eat anyone's bullshit sandwich with a polite smile. Besides, I wasn't the only one who had evolved. My bestie came back from that bootcamp more focused and business-like than ever. Suddenly, she was all about workflows and milestones. How thrilling!

Speaking about business: Vibeur had planned another photoshoot on the weekend. Who could say no to that? Not this girl! So, I found myself back in that penthouse. This time, though, I entered with a whole different attitude. After weeks of modeling, posing, and setting the label's socials on fire, my confidence was on another level. So, my first order of business was to set the tone. Approaching the lens-lurker, I established a few ground rules. I was the face of the brand, so I wasn't about to let a hired hand call the shots.

"Yes, Tammy, that's it - gimme that innocent look. That angel face, that's the eye-catcher," the lensman directed me. "Show the world you're more than these glamour gals. You're a real supermodel - not defined by a set of big, fake balloons."

His voice was still dripping with vanity but not oozing condescension anymore. He was admiring his own brilliance, not belittling me. That's how you flip the script! No more stupid comments, no more sexist jokes. Instead, he started dishing out compliments, making me feel like a princess.

Now, we were vibing, working together like pros. It confirmed what I knew all along - my face was the real deal. And it proved I hadn't lost my mojo. The exact opposite was the truth! I'd showed the slimy fashion snapper exactly where he could shove his outdated opinions. See? I still knew how to put misogynistic morons in their place. We all have our slip-ups, right?

When we finally wrapped, I glanced at the clock. And BOOM - panic mode! We'd seriously run over! I needed to bounce, like yesterday. But then the CEO strutted in. He came bearing gifts. To congratulate me on slaying the social media campaign, he popped a bottle of bougie champagne. What a validation on a silver tray! I totally lapped it up.

But that little post-slay soirée wrecked my schedule for good. By the time I left that penthouse palace, I was seriously late. This was bad -- real bad - because I had plans with Ariana. We were supposed to hit up a campus climate rally - an issue important to the both of us. We'd agreed to join the climate camp and show our support. So, it was time to swap the catwalk for protest signs!

---Conscious Glam---

I was hauling ass back to campus as fast as public transportation would carry my sorry self. With no car, and not even a broomstick, it was harder than it sounds. Trust me! And don't even get me started on Ari. That girl does NOT do late. I knew she'd be pissed! Ugh!

When I skidded onto the quad, all out of breath, the base camp was already set up and the signs painted. The lawn was swarming with students, so it was pretty hard to find my bestie. Fighting my way through the crowd, I started catching frowns and side eyes left and right. That was weird! Hello? I was one of them. I was here to support the cause. But then it got even weirder when I found Ariana. She was holding up a 'Save the Planet' sign, and when she spotted me, her face turned into a scowl like I was 'Miss Fossil Fuel Incarnate'. Like, girl - what?

"Oh, Tammy," She called me out. "You always gotta be a shameless attention seeker, don't you? This right here, it's a climate rally, not a beauty influencer workshop, you know that, right?"

Excuse me? Did she think I didn't know where I was? Of course, I knew this wasn't Coachella! But then things got even weirder when she pointed at my clothes like they'd personally offended Greta.

"You got plans for the night?" she asked. "Wanna hit the clubs or something?"

Following her finger, I glanced down. And BAM: full-on fashion faux pas. Shit! After meeting the CEO, I'd been in such a rush I'd straight-up forgotten to slip back into my own clothes. So, I was still rocking that last luxury set I'd modelled at the photo shoot. The CEO had gifted it to me with a wink and a 'Take some cute street selfies for our socials' comment. I guess I took that a little too literally.

The tweed fit was an icy-blue textured twinset that was giving 'brat with a black card' energy. The fabric looked soft but probably cost more than a semester's tuition. The cropped spaghetti strap top wasn't about coverage but about flexing my tanned abs. The skirt was nothing more than a suggestion, and the front pockets were so tiny they were pointless - except for serving spoiled princess vibes.

And then there was the Vibeur micro-purse. That thing was barely big enough to flash the golden 'V' logo. It held little more than my lip gloss and my attitude. Oh, and my credit card, obviously. The shoes were white vinyl ankle boots with 3.3" heels -- so glossy they were the exact opposite of subtle. The whole vibe was more 'parade past your ex like you just inherited his dad's yacht' than 'stand in the mud with a protest sign'. Welp! I was a fashion crime at a climate rally, because nothing screams eco-warrior like shiny haute couture, right?

"But as always, you're gonna get away with it." Ariana just sighed, visibly annoyed.

And she wasn't wrong. Sure, it was only footwear, but I might as well have landed on the lawn with my private jet, so I kept my mouth shut. Didn't want to add fuel to the fire. Ari already suspected I wasn't taking the whole thing seriously.

"Uh, excuse me," a student came charging at me. "You're trying to sabotage us? This is too important for bullshit like that!"

I looked at him in total surprise. Where the hell was this guy coming from? He looked highly committed and had the full eco-hipster starter set to prove it: long hair, strappy sandals, and 'Save the Planet' sign. Cute, but no thanks!

"That outfit?" he gave my icy-blue twinset the stink eye. "It's sending the wrong message."

And now, it was my turn to scoff. How dare he? I was an ally, here to help! Spinning around, I popped a hand on my hip, so my glossy white nail polish flashed against my tanned skin.

"Listen, Captain Compost!" I snapped. "I don't need to rock hemp crocs to prove I care about climate change. Try a new stereotype! This one's boring me to tears!"

Okay, maybe, that was a bit too harsh. I saw the sandal boy flinch like I'd just slapped him with a celery stalk. Poor guy clearly wasn't used to people clapping back at him. He was definitely more 'anonymous keyboard warrior' than 'public leader'.

"It's optics," he muttered, his voice cracking. "Women should stand for the cause, not for their fashion choices."

Oh no, he did NOT just go there! My eyes narrowed until my gaze made him squirm. I swear he shrank an inch under the pressure. The inner turmoil was written all over his face. But instead of cooling me down, it just pissed me off more. If you can't handle the heat, why you even step into the kitchen? Pick smarter battles, dumbass!

"Dude," I didn't relent. "I'm not here for a dress code, I'm here 'cause I give a damn. You really think my fit's undermining my voice? Damn, that's narrow-minded! Women can be smart AND sexy, fierce AND fashionable. Do better!"

Oh wait! Where had I heard that one before? Right, the kegger! It hadn't worked then, but it worked now, shutting up that crunchy climate cop.

"Great, you can multitask!" the sandal boy tried to hold his own. "We don't need no attitude, though. We need to focus on the issue, not distractions."

Ugh, his initiative should have been admirable, but he didn't sound bold or confident, just whiny as hell. Like he could dish it out but couldn't take the echo. His whole passive-aggressive energy made me furious.

"Sweetie!" I looked down on the beta boy. "Fashion can be empowering! It shows everybody can fight for the planet - doesn't matter what you're wearing. Heels, Birks, Jandals, whatever!"

Captain Compost opened his mouth to fire back. The more I dragged his ego, the more he resorted to weak stereotypes and ad hominems. But he didn't get another word in.

Bang! A bass drop stopped him, followed by a dance beat exploding from a speaker. We all whipped around. And yep! Across the lawn, a completely different crowd had gathered - a counter-rally. Far from organized but twice as loud and thrice as rowdy.

At the front was a cluster of familiar faces - Yamos bros! You know the type: jocks with backward caps, neon tank tops, and more brawn than brains. They were holding up spray-painted bedsheets that read, 'Hummers Over Hummus' and 'Treehuggers Ruin Tailgates'. Next to them were some finance bros in crisp polos waving signs that read, 'More Fuel, Less Fool' and 'Drill, Baby, Drill'. If they weren't pushing the planet to the brink, I might have given them points for creativity. Maybe!

But then I rolled my eyes really hard. The sorority squad arrived, snapping selfies and shooting an insta-reel called 'Why Carbon Is Hot, Literally!'. One of the girls even had the nerve to wear a pink crop top that said 'Plastic Is Fantastic'. I actually recognized some of them: gold diggers from the Yamos kegger. So nice to meet again!

But then the music got steamrolled by a low rumble. When the frat crowd heard it, they answered with a chorus of whoops and howls. I turned just in time to see a gas-guzzling pickup truck roll up, creeping past our camp. The goal was obvious! The driver wanted us to clench our butts at the sight of his fuel hog while choking on the toxic fumes.

And it worked! Heads snapped, noses wrinkled. We either snorted in contempt or sighed in disdain. United, we raised our signs and screamed our slogans - loud enough to drown out the roar of the engine. 'Fossil Fool', 'Fossil Fool'!

"Jesus, burning the planet one mile at a time.' I spat in disgust.

"That's the sound of the earth dying," Ariana added. "Guess the planet doesn't matter to that dude."

And then my snort got stuck in my throat when the driver revved the engine and I recognized the culprit: Colton, of course! Because who else? Captain Alpha-Hole himself! The one-man parade of unchecked privilege. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that the Yamos prez had to turn his entrance into a statement, rolling in like a carbon cowboy.

With one last obnoxious roar, he drove off, heading for the nearby parking garage. I was fuming -- more than his damn truck. This wasn't how I'd imagined meeting Colton again. This was so much worse than his entrance at the Yamos kegger. It was an insult to the cause and to me. This was personal!

Someone had to check the privileged prick and set the record straight. This was no dorm room debate but a global problem. We had to work together to solve the issue. We needed every man and woman on board -- even bros and basic bitches.

And guess what? This felt like a job for me. I was the debate queen. Who better to verbally slap some sense into the entitled idiot than me? So, I told Ariana: I was going to make up for my boot blunder by reigning in the frat crowd and converting the tank-top troglodytes to the right side of history. To my surprise, she looked skeptical, which was unusual and hurt a little! Normally, Ari was my biggest hype girl when I went into a debate tournament. The moment I said 'Colton', though, she arched her eyebrows and hesitated. Well, damn!

If you thought that would stop me, then you clearly don't know me -- especially not the model version with a side of sass. If everyone thought I couldn't pull it off -- even Ariana - then that just sparked a fire under me. I had to prove all these haters wrong. And with that, the fuse was lit on the next disaster!

---Glitz-and-ditz glam---

In total meltdown mode, I stormed off towards the parking garage. Still riding that model high, I was strutting like a catwalk queen -- hips swaying, hair flying. And all eyes followed me. Some of my fellow feminists even gasped in shock. They were probably wondering what had happened to me. And honestly? That was a fair question!

Entering the parking garage, I realized I'd somehow never stepped foot in it, even though the building was technically part of campus. Let me tell you, the staircase was as charming as it gets, looking like a paint grenade had exploded and splattered graffiti all over the walls. Stepping onto the second level, the white paint was peeling off, the air reeked of oil, and the neon lights flickered like this was an abandoned strip club. The crumbling structure was a stark contrast to the elegant stage of my photo shoot and every click of my high-heeled vinyl boots screamed You don't belong here. Ugh! This place was crustier than a fratboy's towel.

But this was too important, so I forced myself to keep going. There it was: Colton's testosterone tank! I strutted up behind the gas guzzler, planted one foot out and let my hand rest on my hip like a warning sign. My ankle boots gave me a few more inches, but I didn't need the extra height. My energy was enough to command attention. My stare was sharp and I was ready to pounce. The boss fight could begin!

Then, finally, the door swung open. Colton hopped out of the vehicle with provocative ease and sauntered around his truck like he owned the garage. Looking at me, he raised his eyebrows. His stupid signature smirk flashed across his face. Hot damn! The elite douche looked like you could find his picture in the dictionary under mansplaning. I pressed my lips together in a thin line and stared him down. I wouldn't waver. Not today! I didn't come here to play nice. I came to win!

"Sammy! Long time no see," he greeted me, all too casually. "Didn't expect to catch you here. You lose your way to the 'couture to catwalk gala' or something?"

Oh wow! He really went there. Confused my name, like I was a random freshman he barely remembered. Let's be clear, he did it on purpose. Classic bro move! Pretend you forgot a girl's name to rattle her. So transparent it was almost cute.

"You know, my name's Tammy." I still snapped. "But for assholes like you, it's Tamara Blake. Period!"

I tried to stay on the offense but my emotions got the better of me. 'Why did this keep happening? How did this smug jerk manage to short-circuit my brain whenever we met?' I had no clue.

"What's in a name?" the certified jackass shrugged, making no effort to correct himself. "Bro bunnies, they're all the same. Interchangeable sets of holes. If you know one, you know 'em all."

Okay, wow, what a misogyny monologue! This was straight-up bullshit! Not just against me but against all women. No way, I was letting it slide. I'd just stood shoulder to shoulder with fierce feminists fighting for the planet! I had to stand up for all my bad-ass girls out there.

"Good thing, I'm not one of your bro bunnies," I hissed, "and I never will be. Your whole bro culture? It's so last century! Time to wave it goodbye."

"You're sure about that, Cami?" Colton smirked. "You seemed to enjoy your last crash course in bro culture, if I remember correctly."

Oh no, he didn't! My jaw was on the floor, someone pick it up! He was seriously dragging out ancient history like it meant something. As if I'd spent a second during summer break thinking about him and his Colt. Keep telling yourself that!

I felt my fists clenching as he kept mistaking my name. My hands were no longer on my hips. Instead, I stood there with my arms at my sides, chest pushed out, ready to stomp in frustration. But hold up! The carbon clown wouldn't throw me off course, not so easily. I was on a mission here!

"I sure as hell don't enjoy your pollution parade, Colt." I spat with a nod to his gas guzzler. "Pretty sure you're responsible for half the campus emissions all by yourself. Looks like you're compensating for something. Killing the ozone layer to make up for your fragile ego, huh?"

Shit! I tried to pay him back in kind, pulling the same move. But it turned into a total fail! Lost in my memories, I gave him the wrong name. Great! Now, I looked more desperate than badass.

"At least, my trucks blowing out something real." Colton leaned against his testosterone tank, playing down the issue. "You're just blowing hot air. FYI: your little reusable coffee cup ain't saving the world. It only makes you feel better. But that's all you 'feelings-first-fanatics' care about, right? Newsflash: we adapt, we innovate. That's what humans do. What we've always done."

"Adapt?" I shot right back. "You mean like finding ways to stop using fossil fuels? Ever heard about EVs?"

"Talking about adapting..." the smug jerk deflected instead of engaging in the discussion like a normal person. "It's good to see you've been working on yourself. Self-optimization, lifelong learning - that's the woke way, ain't it?"

I blinked. 'What the hell was that supposed to mean?' I was a model, fresh off a glamor shoot. And while I'm not one to brag, I needed no improvements. Good luck finding a face this flawless on campus! And I'm not even exaggerating!

"Your stomach's tighter, cheeks glowing," the dirtbag kept going, unfazed by my reaction. "Not bad, Candy! It's a good look on you!"

Holy hell! He was checking me out while we were having a serious debate about important stuff. The audacity! But then again, he wasn't entirely wrong. I'd spent my summer tanning and working out.

Involuntarily, my hand slid over my stomach. Ugh, why did I do that? It was instinct, okay? His comment landed and a part of me felt flattered. Sue me! Still, it was nice he noticed the results of my workout sessions. It's not typical for men to spot something so subtle. Not that I did it for him. Ew! The idea that I'd prepped this model body for a guy like Colton was absolutely ridiculous.

"Not the only change, though. I can see a different attitude," the entitled idiot kept going, pointing at my ankle boots. "Preaching about climate change while strutting around in leather boots? Looks like you're the one supporting fossil fuels. Talk about hypocrisy!"

Oh, hell no! You don't want to go there, Captain Alpha-Hole! I've already had this discussion with the nature nerd and it hadn't ended well for the granola guy. No way, this dirtbag was going to fare any better!

"Oh, so you noticed my boots," I fired back with a sweet smile. "You keep eye-fucking them 'n' I'm the one begging? Yeah, right! Didn't know I was still living rent-free in that frat brain of yours! I'm here for your truck, not your Colt."

Nailed it! This was my opening and I took full advantage of it. Almost! Ugh, I still managed to squeeze that damn trousersnake in there. Stupid subconscious thirst! Get it together, girl!

"Just proves you know nothing about fashion, you style void." I quickly added, rolling my eyes with exaggerated drama. "It's not real leather, genius. Anybody with a bit of drip would've figured that out..."

"Drip, huh?" Colton cut me off mid-rant. "Yeah, I might not know shit about your vain, vapid fashion fuckery, but I know you're no car expert. Bet you think torque is a TikTok trend!"

"Hate to break it to you, my kale queen," his voice oozed cockiness. "That gas guzzler you're so mad about? It's actually a hybrid!"

Oh shit! And just like that, my whole argument exploded, bursting into a million little pieces. It took the wind right out of my sails. Welp, that's one way to blow it.

"Congrats!" I tried to keep the upper hand. "You've made an empty gesture look like a badge of honor, like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. Nice try, but not enough to save the planet."

"Oh chill, it's not even my truck," Colton let all my arguments go up in smoke. "I don't own a car, I'm taking the bike to get around campus. How's that for eco-friendly?"

"The truck? It's the frat's ride," he explained like it was no big deal. "An alum hooked us up, so we got ourselves a Brodozer. Real subtle, right? Some of the dudes actually call it the Fuck Truck."

Well, hot damn! I couldn't even tell which name was more cringe, but I definitely rolled my eyes twice -- maybe thrice for good measure.

"Just borrowed it for the day," the cocky jock winked. "Totally worth it! Seeing all you woke warriors pissed off? Priceless! Seeing you go full rage barbie? Fucking legendary!"

Ugh, that tone! All smug and condescending, like I was some clueless idiot. But then again, I faceplanted into shame when I realized I'd been played. 'How the hell had it come to this?' Oh, right -- I'd been overconfident. So wrapped up in scoring a win, I hadn't noticed the signs. Truth be told, I'd spent way more time sneaking peeks at his crotch than at the damn truck. Perfect - just fucking perfect!

"I see, your truck's a hybrid, but your attitude's still pure douche fuel." I tried to clap back. "You borrowed a truck just to get a rise out of us? Desperate much?"

Good grief! I tried to sound firm and determined, but it only rang hollow.

"Hah! Not nearly as desperate as you, Candy!" the elite douche fired right back. "Couldn't even wait a sec to follow me, could you? Guess it worked. You're here now, drooling to hop back on the big boy express."

Holy shitballs! Was this dude for real? The certified jackass seriously settled on Candy as my nickname. Hello? Cheap-ass stripper much? And yet, it sounded just as silly as I felt after that all-time blunder. The way I'd fumbled this debate was truly tragic.

"Oh, please!" I wasn't ready to give in and admit defeat just yet. "You wouldn't need a testosterone tank if you were actually packing something special. Sorry to burst your bubble, but you're just a fake poser with a fake truck!"

I know, total lie. But I latched onto it like a lifeline, clinging to it for dear life.

"Points for consistency, though." I tried my best to sound confident.

Okay, let's be real, I was trying to convince myself more than the pompous frat prez. And how did he react? Not at all! Didn't even blink. He just stood there, letting my words bounce off his puffed-up chest. Leaning casually against his truck, he wasn't the least bit rattled. And that made me nervous as hell.

"If I'm a fake, you're a fake too," he eventually replied. "Tell me, Candy - are you a glamour gal or a woke warrior? Sure as shit can't be both!"

Oh, I'd heard that line before. The sandal boy had already thrown it at me. But I had an answer ready.

"I can multitask, you know?" My tone sharpened. "Some of us can look hot AND give a damn about the planet, all at the same time. It's not mutually exclusive. You should try it sometime!"

"Oh, pretty sure it was you who already tried it." Colton gladly took the assist. "Wanted to prove you can be smart 'n' sexy... but ended up being nothing but the campus slut."

Damn, that flashback hit hard. I had tried to bury it six feet under in my brain's cringe vault, never to revisit it again. Thanks for the reminder, Captain Alpha-Hole!

"So what are you now?" He wouldn't let that tired argument rest. "An eco bimbo? A bratty activist? Hate to break it to you, but all I'm seeing is a bratty bimbo."

Oh wow! This level of arrogance should be illegal! The names were so demeaning they stifled any comeback.

"I see no consistency with you, my little vogue warrior." Colton tilted his head, delivering his finishing blow. "With me? There's always one thing that's consistent!"

And just like that, he stepped in - real close. So close, I could feel his breath on my cheek and his musky-douchebag-scent in my nose. But that wasn't the only thing I was feeling. Without so much as a hey, by the way his hand slipped into my neckline, and he started groping my cutie cups like they were up for grabs at a roadside fruit stand.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

But my tone wasn't nearly as outraged as it should have been. And that was it! I didn't slap his grubby paws away or fire off a lecture about boundaries. Nope! I just stood there, letting him squeeze my lil lovelies like he was casually testing out stress balls at a mall kiosk. My voice didn't even carry that 'hands-off' vibe. If anything, it sounded like I was giving him tips for a better groping experience.

Before I could keep gushing, Colton slid his free hand behind my head. Looking up at him made me feel so small, so girly. And then he bent down and kissed me. Right there! On the lips!

Woah, dude! Had we stepped into a cheesy romcom or something? I was NOT ready for that! Here I'd thought he'd pull some dumb stunt, not go full romantic lead. This was unusually sensual from the smug jerk. But then again, this wasn't a slow-burn movie kiss. The cocky jock wasn't exactly gentle. Instead, he kissed like he fucked: intense, insistent, demanding.

And my reaction? I just melted! There was no resistance. I was supposed to be mad, but instead I let him plunge his tongue deep into my mouth. He raided my tongue turf like he was searching for hidden treasure. Probing my mouth, he claimed me with every twist of his trap flap and I was unable to do anything but surrender.

When our lips parted again, I was breathing heavily and my knees were wobbling. My heart was beating in overdrive and my pussy was trembling like my vibrator on full throttle. I hadn't even noticed until we pulled apart, but I'd pressed my smooth shaved snatch against the bulge in his pants. As if I wear trying to get a feel of his big, bad bone! Damn, that was embarrassing. What a facepalm moment!

"Oh, my couture crusader, did something get you distracted there?" Colton asked all sanctimonious, like some Saint Broseph of Doucheville.

I wanted to fire back so bad, but all I could do was gasp for air. No words, no snark, nothing! And why? Because the brash bastard was right! Yet again, his wrist-sized wrecker proved to be an absolute girl-catcher. And I found myself staring at it like a lost puppy - confused and clueless. I couldn't look away, not even if I tried.

"Aight, time to show some consistency," Colton announced. "I'm gonna go have a smoke."

Oh, he did NOT just call a timeout on the action, did he? But the elite douche ended our make-out session as abruptly as he'd started it. No more kisses, no more groping! He left me panting and aching for more. And the look on the dirtbag's face told me that was exactly where he wanted me. Slay me sideways! Why was he always right about this mess?

"Time to make a decision, my posh protester," he threw a crumb of hope my way. "When I get back, you can either stand here all dolled up like 'Miss Glitz-and-Ditz' or you can go full climate clown, throw on some recycled potato sack 'n' join the woke brigade outside. Your choice!"

Excuse me? What kind of bullshit option was that? The nerve of him to actually think I'd go for it! But guess what? The carbon cowboy didn't give a single solitary fuck about my feelings. He just strutted off toward the stairs, ready to grab his stupid cancer stick while I was left standing there, parked in the middle of the garage like the replacement ride for his Brodozer. I was having a full blown 'buyer's remorse' existential crisis while I was just waiting for him to call me his 'bimbo buggy'. Fucking marvelous!

Hello? I wanted to scream after him. Debate's not over! We're not done here! But spoiler alert: we were! I'd had my chance, but I'd blown it. And the result? My mind got blown. How was it that I'd outsmarted the nature nerd without breaking a sweat, but when it came to Frat Lord Smugington III, I fumbled the bag like a rookie stumbling in high heels on the runway? This was truly a disaster!

---Future glam---

Standing in that godforsaken parking garage, all by my lonesome, it hit me like a freight train. This wasn't just some hypothetical situation - it was real and it was happening right now. Sure, I could just say 'screw it', haul ass back to the dorm, switch into my comfy Chucks, and make a beeline back to the protest camp. Nothing easier than that! Hell, my feet were practically begging for the comfort after that long day in those high heels.

But I didn't want this to be over! I had to face the cold, hard truth: I'd lost the debate because I'd jumped to conclusions. Not my finest moment, I give you that. But there was more to it. Since day one, my parents had taught me to be a good girl - always be nice, always be polite, always give something back. So now, I felt like I had to make up for the mess I made. I really should apologize for judging the book by its cover, right?

Hold up, though! If I stayed, I had to change clothes. I had to turn myself into Miss Glitz-and-Ditz? Ugh, that name! It sounded worse every time I heard it. This wasn't just left field, it was a whole damn galaxy away from my style. Worse than wearing socks and sandals!

But it wasn't the only label the smug jerk had given me, right? He'd also called me a 'feelings first fanatic'. Well, guess what? That's exactly what I did. I was feeling it, so I was running with it. After all, smoke breaks only last so long. Colton would be back in a hot minute, so I had to make a move and fast. Ditching the debate in my head, I bolted out of the parking garage. I tried to stay away from the protest camp, which inevitably led me to the counter-rally. They were just packing up their stuff. The statement was made, and now it was time to find a frathouse to get the real party started.

Remember that sorority sis with the 'plastic is fantastic' shirt? Yeah, that one! She had a blonde friend with her. A dazzling duo of shiny looks and sweet vibes - exactly the kind of material girls I couldn't stand. Serving looks, flunking brains. Classic!

But when you're desperate you take what you can get, even if it's a trainwreck waiting to happen. So, I marched right up to them. And guess what? They recognized me! Hell, they even followed my Vibeur promos! Jesus in juicy couture! These girls were everything I didn't want to be - basic, bimboy, and brainless. If the fashion label ever gave me an item like that pink top, I'd set it on fire right in front of the CEO.

But I was already in too deep, so I played my part like a good, little pawn. The girls called for their sorority sisters and suggested to snap some selfies together. So NOT my crowd, but I still posed with the cringe clique. I just prayed that Ariana never saw these pics. But these sparkle-bots soaked it up, thinking I was a 'sister-in-spirit'. It made me feel like a fool and a traitor to my fellow feminists. I was a lot of things but not a basic bimbo. And I never will be!

Still, I giggled along as the girls went off, gushing about this new fashion trend called future glam. They asked if Vibeur was ever going to release a line like that and flashed their latest mall finds like they were showing off some treasure. Oh boy, that stuff looked tacky! No wonder, they'd been shopping at Vonderstone. Not even near my level of class! But guess what? I saw my opening and made a deal.

I was like, 'Yeah girls, I'll shoot some reels once Vibeur drops that line. And I'll make sure to bring you along to be part of it. But first, I need to show the new style to the Vibeur boss.'

Of course, that was just an empty promise. As if I'd actually bother the CEO with such tacky fads. Please! But the girls ate it up, so I used it to convince them to swap clothes. This wasn't a bad deal for the girls. They handed over their cheap knockoffs and got some expansive fashion in return. For me, however, it felt like a walking disaster in the making. Getting to my dorm unnoticed would be a major challenge! But that was a problem for later.

Not gonna lie, their tacky little clothes truly me straight into 'Miss Glitz-and-Ditz'. We're talking fire engine red, high-gloss vinyl booty shorts that caught the light like they were sending out a signal to every press photographer covering the climate rally. So tight, they sucked me in like a second skin, making it impossible to NOT notice my curves. And so short, half my ass was out there making a guest appearance in broad daylight. Oh, and let's not forget the centered zipper for easy access. Ugh!

But the crop top wasn't lacking in cheap chic either. Gleaming white latex and a 'lift, lock, and loaded' effect that had my cutie cups sitting so high they were seconds away from tumbling out. But all that paled in comparison the dumbest logo ever: iCANDY! Big, bold, and redder than a traffic light. Yep, just like Colton's stupid nickname. Real subtle!

'What the hell was I doing? Someone slap some sense into me!' If my protest pals saw me like that, they'd call the cops to arrest me for working a street corner on campus. But let's be real, if any cops showed up, they'd be asking for selfies, not whipping out handcuffs.

Since no one was around to stop me, I hightailed it back to the parking garage, giving my best to stay out of sight from the protest camp. And I made it just in time. Colton was still nowhere to be seen. Reaching the truck, my adrenaline was pumping, so I did something straight-up unhinged. As if everything up to this point had been tame, right?

But there I was, bent over the truck bed, my lil lovelies squished against the dusty metal. Yup, I stuck out my butt like I was trying to burst that skintight vinyl in half. Hot damn! That pose was straight-up begging for a spanking. I'd never put myself in that kind of position before, not on purpose. The shit I was pulling just to impress a dirty douchebag. It was off the rails!

And what did I get in return? Nothing! Colton made me wait! Really? How long does it take to smoke a single cigarette? I was growing restless, feeling like an idiot just standing there. This was risky as hell! What if a random stranger showed up? A prof on her way home. An admin making his way to pick up groceries? Or, God forbid, someone who actually recognized me. For the love of all things holy, the wait was killing me!

But then - footsteps. Finally! I was dying to look back and see if it was the frat lord. But nope! I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'd have a full-on meltdown if it wasn't him, so ignorance was bliss, in this case. Instead, I stayed in position. And out of nowhere, I let out a sharp gasp. WHAM! The unmistakable sound of a hand landing on my ass - loud enough to echo through the garage. The sting was so sharp it made my whole body jolt. But it also wiped out any doubt. Yeah, this was Colton. No doubt about it!

"I see you dolled yourself up extra nice," his chuckle confirmed my suspicion, "so I can send you crawling back ruined."

"You wish!" I quickly countered. "Too bad it's the other way around! I dolled up just to show you what you'll never have."

Okay, I'll admit, that came out bitchier than intended. And of course, the smug jerk made sure I knew it when he landed a sharp slap on my other cheek - so firm it made my ass quake like a lake getting rocked by a boulder. My shorts had to hold on for dear life, squeezing my butt like a busted can of biscuits.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall," the elite douche commented on my high-gloss hot pants. "Who's the one to make her juices flow."

"Urm, you sure it's not your own reflection that makes you blow your juices early?" I couldn't help but snap back, even knowing the consequences.

And WHAM! It earned me another resounding smack that sent ripples across my glossy shorts, like a glitch in the Matrix. The sting made me break into a tap dance right there in front of the truck. But I wasn't about to fold. Holding my ground, I stayed in position - bent over the truck, tits pressed against the metal.

"Those pants look so tight, you put 'em on to bottle those juices up?" Colton laughed. "Bet a whole-ass waterfall comes pouring out when I open that zipper!"

"Oh, please! If there's a waterfall, it's from you drooling over my ass, not me gushing over your weak-ass game." I spat out, obviously lying.

And DOUBLE WHAM! Two harsh whacks made my ass bounce like it had a mind of its own. And before I knew it, Colton had his greedy paws on my zipper. I was practically opening my own damn shorts for him. Holy tight pants and trauma! He had me dancing on his strings, while doing the dirty work for him. The humiliation burned hotter than my skin.

"Nice pair of warning lights! Bet you can see them from the protest side," the entitled idiot exclaimed when my glowing ass cheeks burst out of the tight vinyl. "Might as well use them to brighten the camp for the night, Candy!"

Yikes! What a low blow bringing my protest pals into this. Mean as hell! But then again, my ass felt like he wasn't wrong. It must have been glowing redder than my hot pants, like a neon 'Open' sing at some sketchy, grease-stained diner.

"You're just mad my backside has more presence than your personality." I hit back.

But I barely managed to finish the sentence before the last words got drowned out by groans. Captain Alpha-Hole had used the time to push my white panties to the side and slide two fingers through my slit. No resistance - just a warm, wet embrace! His fingers plunged right down my snug channel, clear evidence that my body was betraying me. Holy leaking faucet!

And WHAM BAM! As soon as I started moaning, the cocky jock pulled his fingers out, giving my ass a pair of stinging strikes instead. With my cheeks set free, my butt flesh wobbled like jello. But there was no scream, only a shameless groan. And the frat lord didn't stop there. Immediately following the swats, he drilled his fingers back into my soaked snatch, sending them on a deep dive mission. He had me on a tight rope without a safety net, balancing like a circus bimbo. Sweet wire-walking Jesus!

"At least, my personality needs no industrial-strength leggings to hold it together," Colton remarked. "But I still see no consistency -- just a dumb slut 'n' a smart cunt. Face it! You're a hybrid, just like my truck. All show, no substance!"

Oh, get out of here! That was so NOT me! I don't do hypocrisy. Just no!

"So, you're saying I'm versatile?" I saw an angle I could use. "Guess what? You've nailed it. I'm versatile enough to adapt to your narrow mind. That's how I'm gonna turn you into a climate activist. Just wait, baby!"

Okay, real talk? From my current position it sounded ridiculous. Bent over like a trailer park trophy draped over a sun-bleached beer cooler and still trying to keep my pride intact? That was a grade-A flop! But I wasn't about to back down - not today and definitely not to this conceited rich kid. Even with my ass served up like a snack on that fuck truck, I refused to admit defeat to a brain-dead frat bro. I was a debate queen! If I ever lost, it was only to a state champ - if at all. I was still on a mission and I'd slay it -- one way or the other.

"Here's the deal!" I pressed on. "I'll bless you with the honor of getting a piece of me 'n' in return you join me at the protest camp. Sound like a fair trade or not?"

And NO WHAM! The entitled idiot blinked, completely caught off guard. For a second, his usual swagger slipped. But then he snapped out of his surprise, shaking his head like he was regaining his composure.

"So, winning the debate 'n' winning a good hard fucking, it's both a win for you, my granola barbie." He shrugged as his signature grin reappeared. "Maybe you ain't a hybrid after all -- just a full-blown bimbo."

Holy barbie on a bender! I was seriously running out of ways to argue with this certified jackass.

"So, what you say?" I inquired, my patience running thin.

But of course, the cocky jock was having none of that. He didn't reply, instead it was me who answered with a long sigh. The privileged prick had pulled out his colossal cock and let it snap against my soaked slit. The sloppy sounds echoed through the parking garage and my body reacted instinctively. My ass wiggled like stripper cheeks trying to shake loose a bill from a cranky cash cow. But no chance!

"We got a deal," he suddenly said, all matter-of-factly. "I'll come to the camp with you... when you do a good job convincing me with your charms."

Hold up! He agreed? Just like that? Now, it was my turn to be thrown off. But I barely had time to process my unexpected win. I was hanging onto that truck like a drunk diva clinging to dignity at 3am - legs stretched out behind me, balancing on the tips of my white ankle boots.

"That's... ohhh... that's... oooohhh..." It took me several tries to get the words out. "That's awfully presumptuous, thinking you're getting to fuck me after our debate. You know what they say: you can look but you can't touch."

Yeah, I tried to be extra clever there. Turns out, though, I was a bit too clever for my own good, because the dirtbag didn't even blink.

"Oh, my eco bimbo," he said, unfazed. "It's terribly presumptuous to think there was ever a debate to begin with."

And with that, his soul snatcher was gone. Instead of tapping my twat, the elite douche patted my head. The condescension was infuriating, but it was a real witty way to end the debate. I felt so small and stupid, it left me all out of snappy comebacks. Even worse, I already missed the combination of pussy slaps and butt spanks. Fabulous - fucking fabulous!

"So sorry, my vogue warrior," Colton kept stroking my hair. "I was just fucking with you. I never said I'd fuck you."

And then he was gone! The arrogant ass turned and walked away. This had to be a fever dream! It couldn't be over, could it? Not like that! This was beyond extra! But it was also an opportunity. Nothing had really happened. At least, no one had seen anything happen. I could still make it to the dorm, change clothes, and return to the camp without any damage done.

But then again, I couldn't just slink off to camp with a big fat loss and my tail between my legs. That's what losers do, and I definitely wasn't a loser. If I left now, Frat Lord Smugington III would never respect me. If I stayed and paid the winner his due, maybe -- just maybe, he'd give me another crack at it. And then I'd win, you can bet on that! I may have lost a battle, but I hadn't lost the war.

---Backyard glam---

In the end, I did what every feminist fighter against the patriarchy would do: I straightened up, whipped around like I was on a runway, and scanned the scene. Where the hell was Captain Alpha-Hole? Oh, there he was - at the truck, side door open. He was chilling in the passenger seat, legs hanging out, casually messing with the radio.

I snorted and planted my hands on my hips like I was trying to win a power pose contest. That got his attention! He glanced over and tilted his head, amused like I was some reality show he couldn't stop watching. He let me simmer and fume like it was part of the entertainment! My foot tapped the concrete like it was drilling my impatience into it. This was a total stand-off. Who was gonna blink first?

Me! I had enough of this bullshit, so I said screw it. If I had to be the grown-up in this kindergarten play, so be it. I moved, strutting over to Colton and his Colt. He didn't flinch - just sat there, soaking in the sway of my hips. I stepped right between his manspread, running the tip of my glossy white nail down his chest until it reached his belt buckle. Spinning around, I gave him the full butt buffet. Bending forward, I pressed my ass into his crotch, grinding against the bulge in his pants.

And then I huffed! His hand hit my back and pushed me away like I was some dollar store gold digger he'd used and tossed away like last season's clearance item. I stumbled forward with a dramatic gasp. What the hell? Turning around, I shot him a look that said 'Seriously, dude?'.

"Aw, cute, my couture crusader!" Colton gave me a cocky tilt of his lips. "Let's be real, though, you could barely handle me last time, Candy. Might wanna get some training in before the next round!"

Holy gym grind! Instead of praising me for my initiative, he reminded me how his cunt cleaver had rearranged my organs the last time. What a delight!

"Oh, please," I tried to sound unfazed. "Last time you caught me off-guard. This time, I'm warmed up already."

'And I even got a booty beaming like a radioactive peach to prove it.' I added in my head but bit my tongue, just clenched my burning butt cheeks instead.

"Right!" the brash bastard agreed. "But this time, the pipeline's pumping at full blast. Can't have you tapping out like an underfunded wind farm!"

Oh joy! More eco insults from Saint Broseph. Just what I needed! Can we get to the banging please? Nope, we could NOT! Instead, Colton pointed down the parking lane like he was giving me directions to hell. My eyes followed his finger, and my jaw hit the concrete. This had to be a prank! I must have stepped into some kind of reality show. Where was the camera? There was none, just a crusty, old pillar -- all chipped paint, bumper bruises, and... a dildo! What the fuckery? It was suctioned to the column -- at crotch height. Oh, eat shit!

I would have clutched my pearls if I'd worn any. But instead, I just stood there, staring from dildo to douche. And Colton? He just hit me with the world's most casual shrug. The message was clear: his way or the highway.

I paused, I pouted, I cursed the patriarchy. For fuck's sake, my face belonged on Vogue covers, not on a derelict column and even less on a damn dildo. But then again, I was on a mission to earn the frat lord's respect and claim a rematch. I was locked in to win, so I did what any self-respecting feminist on a redemption arc would do: put an end to the man objectifying me!

I twirled around with so much attitude my hair whipped the air like a cat-o-nine. Pissed but poised, I strutted toward the pillar, like I was turning this dilapidated garage into an urban runway. Real talk, though? My high-gloss hot pants gave total wrestle gear vibes, so I looked more like a vapid valet on her way to a ratchet backyard ring at some garbage wrestling show than a fashion model on a fancy runway.

When I reached the crusty old column, I stopped and turned around. My reasoning was simple: the privileged prick couldn't objectify me if I did it to myself. So, I raised my eyebrows and gave the smug jerk a challenging look. Keeping eye contact, I slowly bent over. Deeper and deeper, I lowered my head. I kept going until my mouth was at the level of the dildo. Pursing my lips, I gave the toy a quick little peck. Just a tease, nothing more! Told you, my face was too precious for that kind of cheap action.

No way in hell was I risking it all for some kinky foreplay! I wasn't that dumb! But tapping out? Not happening, either. As long as I kept the dirtbag distracted, he couldn't harass the other protesters. By objectifying myself, I was helping out my girls at the camp. In a weird way, it was the feminist thing to do.

So, here's my plan: sucker in the dude, get him wrapped around my finger, and then flip him to the right side of history. It all started here and now! He wanted to see me train? Then he had to earn it! No free shows at fashion weeks! Keeping things exclusive, I slid behind the pillar and stuck the dildo to the back side. On my right, a beat-up sedan kept me covered. On my left, the Brodozer blocked out uninvited randos. If Colton wanted to watch me turn that cracked-up column into my own personal strip pole, he had to drag his frat ass over to the truck. Let's see how fast the cocky jock could run when it counted!

Okay, status check! The dildo was in place, so step one was complete. Now, on to the real show. Spinning around, I placed my ass in front of the dildo. This was so daring and dirty, I figured I might as well make a whole performance out of it. So, I slowly stuck out my butt while I reached back and ran my hands over my cheeks. After all those tanning sessions, my skin had that golden glow that shimmered like fresh satin under soft lighting. My long, elegant nails gleamed like porcelain as they traced the contours of my curves. Spreading my soggy slit, my pussylips were so wet they stuck together like two pieces of adhesive foil, so I really had to peel them apart!

Holding the position, I stole a glance over my shoulder -- just to make sure the certified jackass was watching. No way, I was going to let all that effort go to waste! But there he was, leaning against the truck like he was front row of a parking lot brawl on a budget. Every inch of him radiated cocky amusement. That was every girl's dream, right?

"Well, well, well... look who finally accepted her name!" he remarked when he spotted my latex top in all its glory. "Took you long enough to admit what everyone already knew."

Shit! The slogan on the shirt. 'Thanks for the reminder, dude!' This was definitely in the top three of most mortifying moments in my life. It made me shake in embarrassment but also lit a fire under my ass. Squaring my stance, I pushed my hips back -- slow and steady. I felt the dildo slip into place between my legs, knocking on heaven's door. The toy was truly impressive. Thicker than the energy can, but thinner than Colton's colossus. Hate to admit it, but the elite douche was right. This was the perfect tool to get prepared for the main event.

"Damn, I should start charging royalites," the arrogant ass didn't let up. "iCANDY? That brand was created for chicks like you."

Said no one ever! I was the opposite of a bubblegum bimbo and that would never change. Yet, I pushed my booty back. And BAM! A jolt, followed by a groan. The head was in, parting my soggy snatchflaps with ease. It was just the tip and I already felt stretched out. Fan-fucking-tastic!

"Oh, my vogue warrior, your bimbo energy might just be the cure for global warming," the dirtbag was having too much fun to stop. "We should keep you riding that rod forever to bottle it up 'n' power the whole state with it."

Holy voltage! I only felt douchebag energy, but the condescending digs still made my body move. I grunted as the toy slid deeper into my snug channel. The ribbed shaft grazed every nerve ending along my pussy walls. My breath hitched as I felt the full stretching, but I powered through, impaling my pussy on that silicone spear. What a fucking delight!

"You really committed to the bit, huh?" The entitled idiot wasn't going to run out of digs anytime soon. "Guess the character became your whole personality. Face it, your final form is Candy Carnage."

Holy smackdown! Even Colton was catching those wrestling vibes. And that new nickname? Next-level degrading. Ugh! So much condescension, it made me want to deck him and kiss him all at once. Either way, I rocked back and forth on the silicone shaft faster and faster, burying more and more of the dildo up my plush passage. The tool was getting slicker by the second. I just had to make sure my moans didn't escalate to the same extent.

This was going well - until it didn't. Just when I was getting into a groove, my butt hit the pillar like it was a turnbuckle. I felt the rough paint on my smooth, tan skinned. Oh damn, my heart did a moonsault and landed in a split! I had buried the whole dildo up my cunt. It felt like the plastic pole went all the way through my body and right out of my mouth. I was like bolted to the pillar, unable to move. A knockoff diva strapped into the ring ropes. How charming!

"Hey, where's that 'Puss in Boots' girl?" I suddenly heard a voice. "I wanted to apologize."

Oh shit! We got busted! If I hadn't been impaled already, I'd be standing there frozen on the spot. Now, I was skewered AND screwed. Brilliant - just fucking brilliant!

Hold on, though! My gut knew it before my brain did. That voice sounded suspiciously familiar. But the charming nickname provided the crucial clue. It had to be the sandal boy from the protest camp. What the hell was he doing here? And more importantly, how dare he call me that?

"Oh, you mean Candy, I mean Tammy?" Colton asked right back. "Be glad she's not here, listening to you butcher a nickname."

Wow - just wow! What is it with douchebags and weird nicknames? In contrast to me, though, the entitled idiot stayed all calm and collected. He even defended my honor while roasting the sustainability stan. I wasn't ready for that, but I was cool with it. Hell, I even forgave him for calling me Candy again. I mean, that's what my shirt said, right!

"Whatever! I'm not even talking to you," the nature nerd replied. "I just wanted to tell her it was unfair of me to call her out on her choice of clothes."

"So, where is she? I saw her walking in here," he asked again.

Woah, I could hear the disdain all the way to my spot behind the pillar. How lovely! But at least, it told me that he couldn't see me. That was the good news! The bad news? The thought of slipping off the toy and going into hiding didn't even cross my mind. Instead, my body was already back to moving, sliding on that plastic pole.

"C'mon, dude!" Colton shot back with a sneer. "You didn't roll up here to apologize, you came to shoot your shot with Tammy. Same as every other guy -- bro or brainiac! You just wanna bang the hottest chick on campus. Be a man 'n' own it!"

Oh yeah, Captain Alpha-Hole praised my looks. Knew it! Still, hearing it felt good, and it had me moving faster, impaling my pussy harder on that fake fuckstick. This was so stupid! I was doubling down on the risk, like I was trying to turn the 'Crotch Cutter' into my signature move. And all the while, my ears hung on every word the guys said.

"What do you care? You don't respect women, just like you don't respect the planet," the nature nerd started sounding like a petulant child.

Holy disrespect to the duke of douchebags! I couldn't see it, but I could hear the sandal boy trying to challenge Colton. It was almost cute -- kind of absurd but adorable!

"Maybe not," the frat lord countered cool as ever. "But at least, I'm no hypocrite. I tell it like it is, just like Tammy. She's got a backbone. But you? You're the hypocrite. You front like you're all about that hemp life. But deep down, you're hooked on bad-ass bitches who dress as sharp as they throw shade."

Told you, Captain Compost was in way over his head. I almost cheered out loud in my little hideout when I heard the frat lord sticking up for me. Biting my lip, I barely managed to keep the noise from slipping out. But then the cheer turned into a groan. The dildo started moving! It was rotating, so fast it almost threw me off the shaft. Swaying in my high-heeled boots, I had no choice but to move with it, desperately gyrating my hips to keep up.

"Yeah, I bet you know all about being a hypocrite, bro!" the carbon kid tried to mock the Yamos prez. "All you care about is bimbos 'n' brewskis while the planet's dying."

Woah! Did the guy just call me a bimbo? The nerve! The dude was starting to piss me off more than the carbon cowboy -- and that said a lot! Especially with how his voice kept getting all whiny. I would have gone for his throat if I weren't so busy clinging to that rotating rod, like holding on to the top rope in a battle royal.

"It's a critical time for our planet," the eco activist droned on. "Every choice we make..."

"... is ours to make!" Colton cut him off. "And Tammy's choice is to rock some killer boots while standing up for the environment. When she's done fighting for the planet, she's gonna hook up with a brawny bro who's gonna bang her brains out. Admit it, dude, that's exactly what you wish you could do. But newsflash: you'll never get a chance with a chick like Candy Carnage."

Oh yeah, another praise! Oh shit, that nasty nickname again. I should have been pissed - the smug jerk made me sound like a brainless bro bunny. But then again, he'd also called me a fierce fighter. And honestly? The high from that compliment hit harder than any insult.

As if it mattered! What did matter was the next switch-up on the dildo. The spinning stopped, and instead the silicone spear started thrusting -- back and forth, back and forth. The jolt slammed through me so hard I almost got launched right off the damn thing like a botched suicide dive straight into a trash can in that busted-ass backyard wrestling match. For a moment, my arms were just flailing through the air, grasping desperately for something to hold on to. Eventually, I crashed down, my palms pressed onto the dirty floor, keeping some kind of balance, while the toy power-pumped my pussy.

"That's not..." the green guy tried to fight back, but only stammering came out.

"Oh, it's the truth 'n' you know it," Colton cut him off again. "Tammy can hold her own in any debate. She can mop the floor with a softboi like you without breaking a fake-ass candy cane nail. And then let some macho meathead skullfuck every thought right outta her head."

Whew, that was something! Those compliments washed over me like milk and honey, while the filthy mental image of Colton fucking my throat sent a spark through my pussy like a live wire. But goddamn, what a shitshow! The dildo switched up again, stopping the thrusting for some wild jerking -- erratic and unpredictable. The motions sent me reeling. My hands slipped off the ground as my body thrashed around like I was taking a suplex. My cunt was leaking so much there was a whole puddle of liquid lust pooling on the dirty concrete.

"I get it, man," the smug jerk showed a hint of sympathy. "Who ain't wanna fuck a chick that looks like a supermodel 'n' bangs like a cut-rate candy in a gonzo gutter flick. But you gotta face it, dude: she's never gonna give you the time of day... unless you swap your sandals for some sperrys."

Holy homemade sex tape in a parking garage! No one had ever said anything more downright demeaning about me. It felt like a verbal body slam. And yet, I loved every filthy word of it. As a reward for being hot and nasty, the certified jackass flipped the switch again. By now, it was obvious that the dildo was synced up to an app that got activated whenever Colton dropped a compliment. This was sick, but also a thrilling kick like a Sweet Chin Music!

I was literally itching for the next change, even though I knew it would put me in bigger danger. Hell, it was a miracle my protest pal hadn't caught me yet. And so, I sighed to myself when I felt it. The dildo stopped jerking and switched back to thrusting. And the cherry on top of that shitshow Sundae? It also started vibrating. Oh boy! I wasn't going to last much longer. Any second, I'd slip on my own mess and take an actual faceplant. What a lovely prospect!

"I just... I just wanted to apologize and..." the sustainability stan started to speak, but Colton shut it down with a sharp scoff.

A clear signal that it was better to zip it than let any more nonsense come out.

"Cool. You did. I'll tell her when I come in her..." Colton ended the chat with a shocker.

Holy toe-curling climax! Did he really just say that? He didn't! He couldn't, right?

"... come into her dorm 'n' meet her, of course." The elite douche quickly corrected himself.

But the damage was done! I was pretty sure that the granola guy had understood the wordplay. The double double meaning was too obvious, like a punch to the face. But then again, this was exactly what I was yearning for. Feeling his meat and getting filled with his cum. Just NOT in the dorm and NOT in the protest camp either. But wait! Would I be strong enough to resist?

"Now, run home 'n' jerk it to some porn while pretending it's Candy getting railed in that flick." Colton was done talking and sent the nature nerd away.

Woah, risky move, huh? The carbon kid must have known by now that I was close by. But I got lucky for once, He didn't come looking. Instead, he shuffled off like a sad little puppy, all defeated. Colton kept his eyes on the guy until he reached the stairs and vanished. And then Captain Alpha-Hole finally shot me a glance. He was chilling in the truck bed, while I was standing riveted to a rebar column. Priceless - fucking priceless!

"What? No snarky comeback? No lecture?" he asked with a chuckle.

The arrogance! Like seriously? Of course, the entitled idiot knew I was in no position to be sassy, but that didn't stop him from toying with me. He just loved watching me roll my eyes like it was his personal entertainment. And naturally, I did him the favor. Still, I gotta say, I was impressed by the frat lord. Not only had he shut down that hypocrite horndog, but he'd also defended my honor like I was his queen! No man had ever done that for me before!

And as a thank you, the toy stopped. While I took a deep breath, Colton hopped off the truck like a lion going on the hunt. Strolling over to me, he positioned himself right in front of my face.

"Don't you wanna lecture me on how women don't need men?" he savored his victory.

Planting his hands on his hips, he simply stood there, fully aware of the effect he had on me. Pushing his crotch in my face, he practically waved his wrist-sized wrecker in front of me like a red rag.

"Please, let me show you that sucking cock is the best love language," I practically begged, all sass gone.

And I didn't stop at just talking, I showed him I meant business when I reached for his pants. Opening his zipper, I pulled out Colt. There it was - the cunt cleaver I'd been missing for so long. It was already standing at full size. No wonder! He'd had a front row seat to my wild-ass backyard brawl the whole time.

Without another thought, I grabbed the delicious dick and let my hand slide up and down the thick shaft. My eyes glazed over with admiration as I felt the fat veins pulsing in my hand. This was exactly what I needed now. Like a puppy with a new squeaky toy, I lunged forward, shoving my mouth onto his meat pipe. And suddenly, the dildo started thrusting again, pushing me back and keeping me coupled to the concrete.

Hot damn, I found myself trapped between a colossal cock and a ramming rod. I was getting spitroasted and I loved every second about it. The thick tool drilled deep into my taut tunnel, pushing me forward and driving my mouth onto the fat fuckbat. My soft lips slid over the stiff shaft until it knocked on the gates to my gullet. I choked hard until the plastic pole pulled back. A string of slobber spouted from my lips as my mouth slid off the man meat. My hips moved back until I felt the cracked-up column on my smooth, silky butt cheeks.

And then the silicone shaft thrust deep into my clingy canal, sending me forward again. Over and over, I rocked back and forth, spearing my snatch before skewering my throat. Hell yeah, this was the drama I didn't know I needed. More than that, it was Colton's words coming true. He truly facefucked every single thought clean out of my head. And on top of it all, it was a major workout, leaving me panting and sweating. But honestly? I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. To me, Colt was the kind of lollipop you don't just taste - you devour, and I was clinging to that sugar fix like it was my last hit.

Small problem? The fat fuckpole was too thick to slide down my throat. And yet, I kept gobbling it up as deep as possible. All the gagging was exhausting, but I didn't care. Every time I choked on the hard rod, the entitled idiot twitched. Every time I coughed around the big bone, he trembled. That was the validation I craved. And it was more important than my comfort.

In the end, two pools had formed between the truck and the sedan - a puddle of pussyjuice and a pool of drool. It looked yukky as fuck and felt just as gross. But damn, it showed my dedication. The next time my buzzing buddy got buried up my snug channel, I looked up at Captain Alpha-Hole, all proud and devout. And what did he do? He patted me on the head in appreciation. Guess I'd managed to keep his attention with just my lips. Not too shabby!

"I guess, quack, quack, quack makes for real good conversation." I giggled with unashamed pride.

"Works better on a guy than any lecture, for sure!" Colton kept patting my head in affirmation. "Tell you what, bend over 'n' you can say whatever you need to say while I use your fuckholes."

Say less! That's what I was waiting for. Finally, I'd get to feel his pussy plunger right where it belonged. But wait! Did he say holes, as in pussy and asshole? I take it back, no deal!

But it was too late. The smug jerk had already grabbed my chestnut hair. He yanked on my long tresses like I was his personal pet and pulled me of the thrusting toy. At first, my twat wouldn't let go, clinging to its buzzing buddy like we were the reigning tag team champs hanging on to our belts. But then a soft, juicy pop ripped through the air as my pussy peeled off the plastic pole like a suction cup giving up its grip. It was followed by a wet squelch that announced the tip popping out, like the final slurp of a straw in an empty drink.

The sound was so nasty it made my cunt throb and distracted me for a second. Next thing I knew, Colton had swaggered over to his truck and dropped into the passenger seat - ass inside, legs out wide. Meanwhile, I was stuck between his trademark manspread - ass facing cock.

Holy high heels! I looked like a stripper about to give a lapdance. So how did I react? Just like a puss on a pole, I started shaking my hips, sticking out my butt and bending my knees. This was insane! I felt like a completely different person. Where was the debate queen? Where was the darts champ? Gone! There was only the stupid little cock slut that needed her cunt railed. I dove for the dick like a desperate grabbling diva reaching for the championship belt dangling over the ring in a ladder match.

The fat cockhead split my slit. After training with the toy, my slot was slackened. But the tip was still so big it overstretched my opening. Slowly sliding down, I got half of the meat inside. My pants were choppy and my grunts guttural when I felt the pussy destroyer stuffing my straining snatch.

But this was nothing new! I'd taken more than that in our last encounter. And Colton quickly let me know his disappointment. My ass was still glowing from his spanking, so he focused on my perky peaks. Plunging his hands into the white latex top, he pulled out my delicate darlings. Right from the start, he mauled my cutie cups, squeezing them with none of the regard a fashion model should expect.

"Feel those natural wonders?" I somehow felt the need to point out. "They're better than all those plastic bags you 'n' your silicone stans love so much. Another win for the real deal over all that fossil-fueled fakery."

"Consider yourself lucky, I like my plums nice 'n' perky. No need for planet-sized pumpkins." Colton's response was unexpected but made me beam all the more.

Honestly? No clue why I cared so much about his taste in tits, but I guess it was all about the validation. I was the debate queen, the darts champ, the prettiest face in every place. So, it was only natural that I also wanted to get praised for my puppies. Yeah, that tracks!

Guess that's why, for the first time, I didn't sass back, just let out a soft purr and leaned in. It got the entitled idiot feeling bold enough to really clamp down on my sweet beignets as he pushed my body closer. A sharp sting ripped through me, making me squeal. But it also made me wiggle harder and press deeper. I was really grinding my butt down to work a few more inches into my widened wedge.

Another squeeze - another shriek! My tasty truffles got squashed. And just like that, my hips went wild. My ass was spinning faster than a bottle in a game of truth or dare. I leaned forward, hands on my knees, to get a little more leverage. And then I grunted deep and low. A few more inches slipped into my narrow nook - but that was it. I was full! No more room in my fleshpot!

Another squeeze - another scream! The frat lord kept gripping my pretty puppies like he was dead set on wringing every drop from them. I let out a growl like a bitch guarding her bone. Lifting my ass, I slammed myself back down, hammering my hole onto the fat fuckbat. There it was - his balls kissed my clit. My growl turned into a triumphant moan. I'd done it! I'd taken it all!

Another squeeze - another squat on the cock! The smug jerk wouldn't quit. He crushed my poor snugglepups like he was gunning for the hardcore title until I was riding him like a vain valet making a mad dash through the trailer park crowd with the stolen belt. But the squeezes kept coming. Colton was mauling my tits like he was dead set on squeezing milk out of them. And I was humping his hammer like I needed to milk every drop of cum from him. Guess we were a perfect match!

My body was burning -- torn between pain and pleasure but mostly driven by passion. My calves were straining and my legs shaking but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop! I kept grinding that twat rod like my cunt was dying of thirst and his jizz was the only thing that could save me.

And then I let out a gut-wrenching groan. The pressure on my pussy built up to unreal levels. How was this even possible? The cunt cleaver was already buried balls deep in my slick little slot. But of course, the answer was Colton! The dipshit had stood up, keeping his wrist-sized wrecker stuffed up my snatch, like it was the most normal thing ever. My tight little fucktrench clung to his shaft like a suction sleeve, so my body got dragged along. With his cock rising, I got pulled up too. My hands lost their grip on my knees and flew into the air as I scrambled to stay balanced.

Too little too late! I toppled forward. No, no, no - this is NOT happening! But it did! My knees hit the hard concrete, and my hands followed right after. Ugh, this was gross! I'd gone from posing on an elegant stage to kneeling in a grimy parking garage. What really hit me, though, was the fact that my cunt had clamped down so tight on the pussy plunger that the cockhead was still in me.

Standing over my ass, the elite douche let me feel the full extent of my new position. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he turned it into a leash. Taking control, Colton let me feel his fat fuckpole as he pumped my steaming snatch with all the power and none of the mercy. Every thrust reshaped my snug strait. Every slam against my ass sent wet smacks through the garage. Meat slapped meat like a mixed tag team chopfest.

And then it hit me! No warning, no build-up, just BOOM - a climax ripped through me. Pleasure ran roughshod on my senses until my vision blurred. I could feel it, but I didn't see it. Each thrust pushed me forward like I was literally being slammed through the garage.

And when my senses finally returned, I found myself somewhere new. Holy kneel-before-the-heel moment! I'd always thought reality couldn't be that unhinged! But here I was - my head stuck in the truck, arms resting on the passenger seat. Colton must have loved the position. It was the perfect setup for him. All that mattered was outside - my peachy ass and tight cunt. Everything that annoyed him was inside - my sharp brain and snappy mouth. The smug jerk had me where he'd always wanted me - just a piece of meat for him to use, fuck, fill, and ruin.

I had become nothing but a set of wet holes and I loved every second of it. The realization hit me harder than an atomic drop. And another orgasm crashed over me. Meanwhile, the privileged prick laid some serious pipe. Towering over my ass, he slammed my sopping slot, letting me feel every inch of his soul snatcher. My clingy canal hugged the twat rod, sliding in and out with a visible grip. It felt like my cunt walls were getting pulled in and out by a powerful magnet. Ugh, a visual I didn't need in my life - ever!

Not proud of it, but Colton basically smashed me senseless, and I completely forgot where I was. My mind was blank, every nerve was locked onto one thing: my greedy little meat garage. And Colton? The frat lord couldn't care less about my groans and grunts. He just kept pummeling my pussy like he had a score to settle. Drilling deeper and deeper, he drove his dick straight into my cervix, every stab resizing me, ruining me.

He's breaking me! The thought rang out like an alarm bell in my head. No, he's breaking me in like a filthy filly. My pussy's never gonna be the same again.

I tried - I really tried - to regain a shred of control, clenching down on that wrist-sized wrecker. But my orifice was too overstretched! It couldn't do anything except take the rough railjob. I had no body on my own anymore. I was just a piece of meat skewered on a supersized spear. I couldn't even move by myself. I was totally at the mercy of the pussy destroyer. All I could do was take the pounding. Oh, perfect -- just perfect!

With every thrust, Colton's heavy balls smacked against my clit. And it triggered another climax! My body jolted up inside the truck while I screamed my pleasure out. My shouts were so loud they would have echoed all the way to the protest camp if my head wasn't stuck in the cabin. It was a constant up and down, like a goddamn Tables, Ladders, and Chairs match--only with dildos, dicks, and douchebags. Each nut punch sent me spiraling again, throwing my vision into purple dots, until I was completely out of my mind.

I didn't know how long it lasted or how many times I came. I only knew that all good things must come to an end. And it happened when Colton pulled his Colt out of me. A tug on my chestnut hair yanked me out of the truck. Another tug turned me around. And just like that, I was kneeling in front of the Captain Alpha-Hole. Standing tall, he was furiously jerking his cock, ready to explode any moment.

"C'mon, dude!" I snapped out of my daze. "My face is worth more than that truck of yours. No way, I'm letting you taint my model looks. I'm not throwing away my career for your fun!"

"Oh, my couture crusader, I wouldn't be worried about that pretty face. Ain't you out here pretending it's good for more than posing 'n' pouting in front of cameras?" Colton poked fun at my priorities. "My spunk rinses off just fine. But that tight little tummy of yours? Might start swelling if I blow my load in that baby maker."

Oh fuck! That was a kick in the teeth. He was right! Ugh, I hate to admit it, but he was. That was NOT part of my plan for the future. So, abort! Abort! Abort!

"I see, you agree, Candy!" he noticed the panic in my eyes. "So, you choose to be my cum catcher, huh?"

"Then beg for it!" the elite douche prompted me. "Show me you're worthy of my seed. You want it? You gotta ask for it! Say it! Beg me to use that bratty mouth as a cum dumpster."

Holy cum dodgers, save me! I'd really messed up this time. His arrogance practically dripped from every word as he looked down on me. There I was - kneeling in the grime like a runway queen who tripped and faceplanted off the catwalk and into the gutter. I shot him a death stare, but I knew what I had to do. There was no getting out of this one.

"Oh, so now I'm supposed to beg? How cute!" I hissed, trying to regain my sass. "Fine."

I flipped my hair and tilted my chin up. I was aiming to dial up the drama, but instead I basically offered my face up like a bullseye for his cumshot.

"Please, Colton, pleaaassse." I played it up to the max. "Give me your precious gift. I'm the queen of darts 'n' debates. I'm the prettiest face in this whole damn place. Be a good boy 'n' crown me already."

Oh wow! That came out way different than intended. It sounded all arrogant and smug, giving straight-up bitch energy! Normally, I wasn't one to brag about my looks or smarts, but Colton brought out my primal instincts. When he was around, the straight-A student faded and the bratty bimbo came out to play. Maybe, that was the real me after all. You wish, but nah, who am I kidding?

My freak out unsettled me, but it was exactly what the entitled idiot wanted to hear. Giving his glorious girl-catcher a few more jerks, he put his hand on my head and held me in place. All eager and docile, I opened my mouth, serving up the bullseye he was waiting for. Ugh, I'm disgusted with myself! But instead of backtracking, I also stuck out my tongue and twirled it greedily. That tipped the dirtbag over the edge. A jizzbomb erupted from his cock, hitting me right on my forehead where it burst into a million white drops that gave 'facepalm with sunscreen-covered hands' vibes, like I'd chosen a suntan session over the eco event.

After that first big blast, two thick white ribbons of special frat sauce streaked across the bridge of my nose before his final squirt of man mayonaise gave my upper lip a messy mustache. Holy sweet tooth! My face ended up glazed with goo like a melted marshmallow over the campfire at the climate rally.

About that rally! I had to get back, like asap. I was gone way too long. I bet Ariana was already losing her shit. But hold up! I had to deal with that messy cumface first. Oh, joy! Gotta go back to the dorm and clean up, so I'd be even more late. That was bad -- real bad! Ari would surely cuss me out. I'd get a lecture when it was the Yamos prez who deserved it. Just what I needed today! But wait! Maybe, I could wipe it off real quick and use the truck's side mirror to fix my makeup. At least, that damn Brodozer would be good for something.

"Oh no, babe, no wiping it off!" Colton stopped me when I moved towards the truck. "It's your first facial. Candy's a real woman now! You gotta wear it like a badge of honor!"

Yeah, try again! He couldn't be serious. I wasn't buying it. So, I shot him a look that was more annoyed than panicked. He'd toyed with me long enough. He'd had his fun. We were done.

"Your call, Candy," he kept throwing that dumb nickname at me. "You can wipe off my gift now, but that's it -- no reruns. You rock my signature look all the way to your tent at camp? Maybe, I'll give you an encore."

Oh, come on! Don't overplay your hand, dude. Like that was a hard choice! It had been fun while it lasted, but I didn't need this misogynistic moron in my life.

And then I turned and started walking towards the stairs. What the hell was I doing? I didn't know how or why, but I was heading to the protest camp with my face looking like a glazed donut fresh off the fryer. My legs simply moved on their own, and I didn't even stop when I heard Colton's snide laughter behind me. Not only had he won the debate, he also woke something in me that could no longer be stopped.

---Outdoor Glam---

I had no clue how I was supposed to pull this off, but I just kept moving, one step at a time. At least, I managed to zip up those high-gloss booty shorts and yank the shiny white top back over my tits while trotting down the stairs. I was officially decked out in vinyl and latex. Definitely the perfect look to go unnoticed at the protest camp. Yeah, sure, that'll work.

I was still dazed as hell. No shocker after that dickdown and the waterfall of orgasms. My brain was so scrambled I totally forgot the deal I made with Colton. The frat lord had promised to join me at the camp if I gave him a good time. And I'd more than held up my end of the bargain. No doubt about that!

But my mind was busy doing somersaults over this whole mess. I went in with a clear plan and somehow came crawling out with my priorities flipped on the head. 'How the hell did I let that happen?' I thought I'd gotten my mojo back and it had worked so well with the nature nerd. But with Colton, everything was different.

At least, there was something going in my favor - the sun had set. The path from the parking garage to the camp was dim and barely lit, so I didn't attract immediate attention. From the distance, I could already spot the tents scattered across the quad. A communal fire pit crackled in the center, surrounded by most of the protesters. A few others sat by their eco yurts, preparing fresh signs for the morning.

Okay, I could work with that! If I snuck from one tent to the next, I could avoid being spotted. I just had to be careful and move smart - except yeah, sharp thinking wasn't exactly my strung suit tonight, more like wishful thinking! The closer I got, the more my nerves spiked. Every step got slower, every move shakier. I finally made it to the camp entrance, where a banner was strung up between two trees. And bam, two eco knights standing guard -- the night watch. Great! No chance in hell, I was sneaking past unnoticed.

Jesus tiptoeing Christ! I'd just ran out of luck. 'What was I doing here? This was so wrong. A disaster in waiting! It would ruin my reputation. I should just call it a day and text Ariana I had a stomach bug or something.' But then again, this whole thing had me buzzing. It was a total thrill ride! I hadn't been so excited since forever.

And then ROAR! A low rumble filled the night - the Brodozer! Rolling out of the garage, Colton drove right past the camp, revving the engine to let everyone know. And it worked! The protesters grabbed their signs and sprinted to the street, shouting their slogans at him. That was some unexpected but much appreciated help!

This was my shot - now or never! Bolting through the trees, I slipped into the camp. Aiming for the first tent, I crouched right behind it. Looking around, I scanned the area. My protest pals were still swarming the street. Good! I could keep moving! Hopping from tent to tent, I slowly made my way through camp. But I had no plans to go straight to Ariana's eco hut, not looking like this. First, I had to take care of that messy man makeup. So, I continued my cumwalk and headed towards the portable restroom trailer. Gotta say, renting that thing was the only genius move the organizers pulled off.

Just a few more feet. I could see the trailer glinting in the moonlight already. But the path was wide open - no more tents, just scattered trees. And then I stopped. The camp had gone silent. The roar of the truck was gone. Colton must have driven off, which meant... Yep! The activists were heading back.

Too late! I was still squatting behind the last tent in line when two granola guys plopped down right in front of it. One was the sandal boy from earlier, and the other was his climate clone. They fired up a bioethanol stove and got cozy. What a lovely reunion -- just what I needed!

Meanwhile, I was still kneeling in the dirt, and my legs got wobbly. After getting absolutely railed by Colton, my body was still shaky as hell. I shifted my weight, and CRACK. Shit! A twig snapped under my foot with a sharp crack. The green guys perked up. They'd heard it, they started circling the tent. Any moment, they'd see me.

I panicked! So, I bolted like a squirrel on speed, diving behind the next best cover -- a park bench with a massive protest sign leaning on it. I flopped down next to it, my tits squished right up against the wooden slats. From one side, the backrest covered me. From the other, the sign blocked the view. I was as hidden as I could get. The only thing giving me away were my stupid white boots poking out at the side. Still, this place was as good as any other to take a breath and regroup.

And then BAM! A hand grabbed my hip, and I froze. Someone was behind me! Shit, the climate cops had caught me. I couldn't decide if I should bolt or just melt into mulch right then and there. But nope! I didn't get to do either. The grip changed. A hand tangled in my hair, the other tugged at the zipper like we were back in the damn truck.

"Shh, my vogue warrior," a voice purred against my ear. "You ain't want anyone hearing you, do you?"

Oh, for fuck's sake, it was Colton. Again! There was no escaping him, was there? He must have parked his Brodozer and snuck after me. Good thing or bad thing? As if I could tell!

"Forgot our little agreement, kale queen?" he whispered, all smug. "You show up at camp, I join you. A deal's a deal! I keep my promises, Candy."

Holy participation trophies! The entitlement was practically dripping off him. And still, I preferred the privilege prick over the green guys. No lie!

"Looks like we've got some time to kill till your Kumbaya fan club chills out," Colton glanced over to the nature nerds still circling their tent. "Big question: how we gonna make the most of this delay?"

That question was rhetorical, obviously. He already let me feel the answer. I gasped as his colossal cock slid in. My lovers' lane was fucked so loose there wasn't even a hint of resistance. Still, his meat pipe was so big, so massive! Once again, the cunt cleaver stretched my pussy walls into new dimensions. I guess I'll never get used to that feeling. Oh joy! Like popping my cherry on repeat - over and over again. What a sick thought! But also weirdly hot.

Just a few strokes in and my gasps already turned to moans - loud enough to be heard over at the tents. 'I shouldn't be here! I shouldn't be doing this! Get out of danger before it's too late.' My head screamed, but my body didn't follow. I couldn't resist the frat lord's presence, his touch, the way he always seemed to take over like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tightening his grip on my hair, the smug jerk leaned in close. His lips found mine. When our mouths met, there was no hesitation on my part. I greedily welcomed his tongue as we began a dirty dance of fleshy spears. And it worked, smothering my groans while the cocky jock eviscerated my busted-up grease box.

"Hey man, everything okay over there?" the two green guys called out.

Holy stone-cold stunner! A seismic quake went right through my insides, turning me into a bronze bench sculpture. But as always, Colton remained all chill like he wasn't part of this mess. Pulling out of my soggy slot, he straightened up.

"Oh, just working on the sign for tomorrow. Gotta be perfect," he shouted back, like he was painting a mural in my uterus.

That seemed to satisfy the climate cops. For the moment, the danger was averted - at least a little. So, Captain Alpha-Hole went back to work, inspecting my gashed-out goldmine like it was the blown-out tailpipe of his precious Brodozer. I was so open, I swear he could see my vertebrae and all my dirty secrets along with it. Jesus Christ in a monster truck!

Completely unfazed, the smug jerk plunged his meat pipe back into my pussy. Picking up where he left off, he wrecked my wedge without giving a damn about my feelings or comfort. He treated me like a street hooker he'd just picked up outside the camp. Zero care -- just raw use! A real poster boy for empathy!

And then BAM - I came again! This time, the trigger was extra nasty. Slappy squelches bubbled out of me like I was a human whoopee cushion. Air rushed in, air got fucked right out. With every queef, another orgasm hit me. With every pussyfart, my dignity got aired out with a megaphone. It was sloppy, filthy, and hot as hell!

"Dude, what's that noise?" the carbon kids called out from their tent. "Your guts staging a coup or something?"

"Oh, yeah, for sure! Note to myself: no bean burritos before climate rallies." Colton shouted back, chuckling like he was doing stand-up comedy, not live porn.

I died - right there on the park bench! And my soul left the protest camp. My shame was at an all-time max! But once you hit rock-bottom, you're basically free, right? So, my body went full shameless and orgasmed all over again, while my mind was still burning with humiliation. I was cumming so hard my moans got dangerously loud.

Even Colton caught the vibes. The danger was looming - one more good thrust and I'd shout the whole damn camp down. No amount of tongue-fencing could muffle that. But guess what? Lady Luck came through: the two climate cops bailed. Yup! Chased off by my pussyfarts. My queefage actually saved our asses. Fucking degrading, but at least good for something. How lovely!

Colton didn't miss a beat. He yanked my hair and pulled me off the bench. My hands went straight into the dirt. Cute! But the frat lord was already dragging me forward and I crawled after him. On all fours! Across open terrain! Towards the port-a-palace! The elite douche led me from one tree to the next. From a walk of shame to a crawl of shame. Thank you, life!

"Hey! What you're doing over there?" a new voice piped up from a distance.

Oh no, we got busted! It was over. No wonder! We had been playing with fire. But this was a new level of mortifying. We'd officially entered hell's basement.

"Oh, sorry! Just out for a walk!" Colton shouted back, cool as ice. "But I'm a big fan! Keep saving the planet!"

Seriously? The pompous frat prez was out here LARPing as campus staff while I was dying at the base of a tree like a budget garden goblin. And with that, the last shreds of dignity vaporized. Just another weekend in the life of a model, right?

"Okay! Just keep the dog quiet. No barking! Some people are sleeping," said the voice.

And that's when it hit me! The night watch actually thought I was a dog. A DOG! Me -- the model! Mistaken for some mutt on a leash. How should I react to that? Laugh? Cry? Wag my tail and beg for treats?

While I was still processing that beautiful ego boost, the eco knights went right back to their foot patrol. The moment they were out of sight, Colton got moving again, dragging me along. The dogwalk resumed. What a romantic stroll!

Finally, we reached the trailer. Outside, the paint was peeling worse than my sunburn after those summer tan sessions. Inside, the floors were sticky from standing water and the walls were stained - just like my cheeks were marked with mascara streaks after the frat lord's facefucking. The sinks were chipped and the faucets dripped harder than my pussy after two rounds with Colt. Classy!

Mercifully, Colton let me up before we went in. Yup! We entered together. Apparently, the entitled idiot didn't just want to drop me off at my destination, he wanted to escort me to the bitter end. How chivalrous! But I didn't wait for him. The trailer was too gross to stay longer than absolutely necessary. The counter was littered with discarded paper towels, so I fished some tissues from my micro-purse and tried to clean my face. Not so easy with a cracked, fogged-up mirror. I could barely even see the jizz.

When my face was finally cum-free, I felt a hand on my back. Oh no! Not again! I got bent right over like the debate win gave full-day permission. My hands slammed down on the chipped sink, my nails flashing whiter than the sad excuse of porcelain. While my brain said 'no', my body said 'yes'.

And that was the start of round three! For the third time in a day, my pitcher got cracked. And let me tell you, I still didn't feel like a member of the experienced chick club. This time, there was no mercy, no romance, not even kissing. The privileged prick yanked my tits out of my leather top before he ripped my white panties apart. Tumbling out, my cutie cups stayed put - no flopping around, no falling out of place. They defied gravity like little high beams, which made me insanely proud!

Meanwhile, the cocky jock tore my pussy open like a sealed letter with a chainsaw. He pumped away like he was on a personal quest to turn my cunt into more shreds than my thong. Gripping my hips, he held me in place while every thrust had my lungs hitching. I had no moans left. Instead, the crusty trailer filled with the unholy soundtrack of skin slapping skin - sloppy, wet, and loud enough to be heard outside.

In the cracked mirror, I could see the door. It was barely hanging on its rusted hinges. The wide gap let me catch glimpses of the lawn and the tents in the distance. If I could see them, they could see me, too. And they did! My cunt buzzed around Colton's colossus like his dildo on max when I spotted two activists wandering by, dopp kit in hand. They paused. They heard the smacks. They probably saw the trailer shaking like a busted carnival ride that was about to fall apart any second. They looked at each other, They shook their heads in disgust.

"Didn't know climate rallies were a hookup scene," the guy said. "Well, as long as they don't ghost the planet."

"Some people can't take anything seriously," the girl replied.

And then they just walked off. Their disgust was palpable. And yet, it made me cum. Again! My warm, wet wallet milked that glorious girl-catcher like a gold digger squeezing every last dime from her sugar daddy. And that pushed the dirtbag over. He started groaning while his delicious dick started straining.

And I reacted quicker than the sandal boy could raise his protest sign. Like a good girl, I had learned my lesson. Spinning around, I dropped to my knees like it was a reflex. I didn't even blink at the sticky floor. It was gross as hell, but my pride had packed its bags and ghosted me two slutty decisions ago!

Holy porta potty! 'What are you doing? You just wiped your cheeks clean from that fratboy slimefest! This is idiotic!' My brain warned me, but my body stayed put. There I was, serving up my model face for another 'all-you-can-nut' buffet. Yeah, I wouldn't buy it if I hadn't lived it, either!

Even Colton looked surprised. Guess he didn't expect so much obedience. Good! I only did as I'd been taught: be nice, be polite, give something back. I like making people proud, okay?

Turns out, the certified jackass had more brain cells firing than I did. While he savored my submission, he tilted his cockhead south. 'Uh, excuse me? Is my face not pretty enough?'

One loud groan, and BOOM! His cock chowder burst from his dick. It was an impressive load for a second shot, even if this batch was more watery than thick and gooey. Still, he splashed several squirts all over my perky puppies, turning them into snowy peaks. And then one final spurt! It left a pearly tit chain dangling from nipple to nipple. What a masterpiece of landscape painting!

With his balls empty, Colton pulled the classic dude move: he lost interest and turned around. But wait! Out of the blue, he pulled a bundle of clothes from his Greek-lettered backpack and tossed them onto the counter - sweatpants, oversized shirt, and a drop-shoulder hoodie. How thoughtful! Maybe, all hope wasn't lost for Captain Alpha-Hole. He'd shown some promise today. Give me one more shot with him, and I swear I could rehab the fratboy into a decent man. Okay, maybe halfway decent!

The frat lord dipped before I could say anything. His mission was complete, he'd spread his seed and inflated his ego. Job well done! And me? I did something even I didn't see coming. I didn't wipe off the cum. Nope! I left the spunk on my snugglepups like it was the newest Vibeur fragrance. Then I slipped the shirt right over my cum-covered cherries. For whatever reason, I wanted a souvenir, even if it was a slimy one.

Shortly after, I dragged myself out of the janky trailer. I was so wrecked -- inside and out -- I could barely stand on my feet. Stumbling into Ariana's tent, I barely managed a 'good night' before I collapsed into my sleeping bag. And just as I drifed off to sleep, my last thought was: What if Ari sees the cumstains?' Oh well, that was a problem for tomorrow.

*to be continued*

*A modeling job puts Tammy on a collision course with Colton*