Roommate's Gravity

Roommate's Gravity

Arrival

Tim doesn't remember what the sun looked like that day, only how the air inside the dorm building clung to my skin. Everything felt slightly off. The walls were too white, the air too dry, the hallway too quiet -- except for the dull thump of a bassline echoing from upstairs.

"Room 214. Mine.", the young man told himself.

The door was already cracked open.

He nudged it with his foot, suitcase wheels rattling behind him. The scent hit first -- warm and earthy, edged with something sweet. Not dirty. Not clean, either. Lived-in.

Inside, one side of the room was already claimed: bed in disarray, a pair of heavy black sneakers by the footboard, and a duffel bag slouched on the floor like it had been dropped mid-momentum. A speaker on the dresser thumped slow trap beats. Above the bed, a poster of LeBron in mid-air, framed by nothing but tape.

Then he saw him.

He was leaning back in the chair by the window, shirtless, headphones loose around his neck. His skin was deep brown, smooth. His chest was broad and solid, like something carved from a different mold than Tim's. He looked up with a slow nod.

"You Tim?"

"Yeah," Tim said, setting my suitcase down with too much care. His voice sounded like it belonged to someone younger.

"I'm Sidney."

He stood to shake Tim's hand, which looked tiny in comparison. His grip was firm, casual. Confident in the way people are when they never needed to second-guess themselves.

They made small talk. He was from Charlotte. Football scholarship. Business major. Tim told him he was undecided. Sounded like an apology.

He nodded. "Cool."

That was it. No need to impress. No posturing. Sidney was one of those people who didn't have to announce himself. He just filled the room.

That night, as Tim unpacked, he noticed how little Sidney had brought. Just clothes. Shoes. A couple colognes. A watch. Everything he needed fit into a single bag, like he already knew he wouldn't have to carry anything else -- not awkwardness, not uncertainty, not the invisible weight Tim felt pressing down on me already.

The Girls

It started two nights later. A knock on the door around eleven. Then giggling.

Tim opened it without thinking.

There were two girls in skimpy t-shirts and tight jeans, their cheeks red from the night air and maybe from laughing too much. They looked him up and down, eyes flickering over his pajama pants, before one of them said, "Sid here?"

Tim stepped aside without answering.

They walked in like they'd been there before. One dropped onto Sidney's bed, the other leaned against his dresser. They didn't even glance at Tim's side of the room. Just kept talking and laughing and whispering as Sidney pulled on a tank top and greeted them like old friends.

Their names were Madison and Rachel.

Tim didn't know if they noticed him sitting at his desk, pretending to be busy on his laptop, earbuds in but no music playing. He could hear everything.

The flirting was light at first. Then touchy. Then bold. At some point, Madison took off her t-shirt. Her skin glowing around nothing but a bra. The way she looked so comfortable half naked on Sidney's bed -- like she belonged there -- made something in Tim's chest tighten.

He considered leaving, but somehow couldn't, and he kept waiting someone to ask him for privacy, but never happened, so he turned in his chair to look mostly away of Sidney's bed. But over his silent earbuds he could clearly understand some of the noises: his black roommate deep breaths as one of the girls -- maybe both of them? -- feasted on his cock.

Tim had only witnessed that kind of thing -- frequently -- in porn, but he had never expected to happen in real life. In his real life. Not even close.

"It is just a matter of enduring a few minutes more. How much can a guy last with two hotties blowing him?", he thought, trying to calm his arousal down.

They left an hour and a half later.

Sidney didn't walk them out. He just lay back with his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, like nothing about the whole thing was remarkable.

Meanwhile, Tim was wide awake -- staring at the ceiling, listening to the echo of their laughter disappearing down the hall. He could still smell perfume. Still hear the snap of a bra unclipping. He felt like furniture. Like something in the background.

That's when he started watching Sidney. Not in a creepy way. Just... carefully. Studying. He wanted to know what made people orbit him like that. How he moved. How he spoke. How he seemed so utterly unbothered.

Tim didn't hate him.

But he hated how small he felt beside him.

Perspectives

Rachel and Madison were already tipsy by the time we got to the dorm. Rachel'd been flirting with that guy from her Chem class all night, but Madison was bored -- until she remembered Sidney.

Madison had only met him once, at that orientation party where he wore that fitted shirt like it was sewn onto his body. He barely spoke that night, but when he did, it was in this low, calm voice that made you want to lean in. Madison don't even think he noticed her watching him, which only made it worse.

So yeah, maybe Madison suggested we stop by. Just to "say hi."

The door opened before we knocked twice. One of those skinny white guy in pajama pants answered. He looked surprised -- like the Rachel and her had caught him doing something embarrassing, even though he wasn't. He just kind of blinked at us and stepped aside.

Rachel grinned at him. Madison didn't bother. She was already scanning the room.

Sidney was there, shirtless -- of course. Leaning against the desk like some catalog model who'd wandered into college by accident. He smiled a little when he saw them, but not like he was excited. Like they were.

Madison dropped onto his bed without asking. Rachel leaned on the dresser, biting her nails and giggling. Sidney pulled on a tank top, which only made it worse -- the way it stretched over his chest, how you could still see the muscles flex beneath it.

They talked about nothing. Laughed at stupid jokes. Rachel whispered something to Madison, and she couldn't stop staring at Sidney's arms as he reached for a water bottle. She felt warm -- not just from the wine, but deep down. Between her thighs. The more he ignored it, the worse it got. Like wanting to crawl onto his lap --over that inviting bulge-- just to make him react.

The roommate -- Tom, Madison believed? -- sat at his desk like he was studying, but his screen was black. Earbuds in. Not moving. Not blinking. Just there. At first, it was kind of funny, like they were putting on a show and he was the awkward little audience. But the longer he stayed silent, the more uncomfortable it felt. Like he was hoping they'd invite him in, or notice him, or anything.

They didn't. Gosh! Madison could see him twitching his legs, like he was trying to hide an erection -- that would surely be unnoticeable, anyway.

Madison took off her t-hirt when the room got hot, letting the air touch her skin. Tossed it onto Sidney's bed. She saw his eyes flicker, just once, and she swore her whole body flushed from that one glance. Later, when the three of them were tangled in his sheets, the girls's hands fondling his huge hard-on, Madison's legs hooked around his waist. While she pressed her mouth to his neck, she left something behind. A whisper of lace under the pillow -- a private thank you. Something he'd find later, or not. It didn't matter.

Rachel and Madison were beyond horny and begged him to fuck them, but the black bloke stood cool even as he was rock hard. Maybe it was because of the presence of his weird roommate; maybe it was just a way to playing with the female burning desire for him.

He finally let them suck his cock, though, taking turns. They were quite desperate, but he lasted more than an hour, finally cumming in Rachel's mouth. "The greedy bitch swallowed the whole load", Madison realized, dejectedly. She had to push her aside and just got to clean the rest while his amazing cock slowly softened.

When they left, Sidney didn't get up.

Tim did, though. He kind of half-turned like he was going to say something -- Madison didn't know what -- but his voice got caught somewhere in his throat. She gave him a polite nod, and Rachel didn't even look. There was a wet spot in the front of his pajamas.

Out in the hallway, Madison started laughing. Not because it was funny, exactly. More because the whole scene in that room felt like a joke the white boi hadn't figured out yet.

Cleaning Day

Sidney and Tim made a deal at the start of the semester: alternate cleaning the room each week. Nothing formal. Just enough to keep it from smelling like a gym locker.

But three weeks in, Tim was the only one who seemed to care.

Sid missed his first turn and said, "Damn, forgot. You cool taking this one?"

Tim said sure, like it didn't matter.

The second time, Sid didn't mention it.

By the third, it was just assumed. It was Tim's job.

That Saturday morning, the room was quiet. Sidney had left early, a message from a girl still open on his laptop, which he never locked: "Swing by around 10?"

Her name was new. Tim hadn't heard it before.

With him gone, Tim opened the window, tied up the trash, and started wiping down surfaces. The usual routine.

When he got to clean Sidney's side of the room, he hesitated, as always.

His bed was a mess -- sheets halfway off the mattress, pillow askew, comforter bunched like a storm had passed through. Tim stood there for a full minute, just looking at it.

It felt wrong to touch. Like sacred ground or a line he wasn't supposed to cross. But he told himself it would look weird if he didn't. The whole room would feel uneven. Crooked. That word again -- lopsided.

So he started.

He straightened the pillow. Smoothed the sheet.

The smell rose up immediately -- warm cotton, his cologne, and underneath it, something floral. Not detergent. Something... feminine. It wasn't just the scent of sex, though that was part of it. It was deeper than that. Like skin. Like permission.

Smoothing the sheets, he felt some darker rough spots where something had dried. Possibly semen or other bodily fluids.

Tim swallowed.

When he tugged the comforter into place, his hand brushed something soft near the head of the bed. He paused, heart thudding -- then slowly pulled it free.

A small, black lace thong.

It was delicate. Lightweight. Almost ridiculous even in his smallish hand. He stood there staring at it, like it might vanish if he blinked too hard.

He should have dropped it. Tossed it into the laundry bag. Pretended he hadn't seen it.

But he didn't.

Instead, Tim rubbed the fabric between my fingers. It was still warm, barely. The front triangle had a distinct aroma that he could only relate to pussy juices, althouth he had not previous knowledge. The thought made something twist inside him -- guilt, curiosity, something else he didn't have a name for.

Tim turned around and sat down on the edge of my bed, thong still in his hand. The room was silent except for the occasional burst of laughter from outside, girls heading off to brunch or the gym or someone else's bed.

And he was here.

Holding this.

Something not his. Something that belonged to Sidney. Or one of his girls. Or both.

Tim looked at his desk drawer. Unlocked it. Slid the thong inside, folded carefully between two spiral notebooks. Then he shut it and turned the key. Quietly. Like he was locking something away that had been building for weeks.

The room looked clean. Balanced, even.

But it didn't feel that way.

The Library and the Look

Tuesday was one of those grey days where the sun never really showed up. The kind of light that makes the world feel blurry at the edges, like it hasn't decided whether to be real or not.

Demi and Tim had been studying at the library for over an hour. She sat across from him, curled into her hoodie, her hair in that messy bun she always wore when she was focused. She had a habit of tapping her pen against her lip when she read -- something small, but it drove him crazy in a way he never said out loud.

They weren't close-close, but they studied well together. She laughed at his dumb jokes, remembered what kind of coffee he liked, and once rested her head on his shoulder when she was too tired to keep reading.

That had kept him awake all night.

Today, she needed a book for her next paper -- one Time had already borrowed from the library. When he offered to run back and get it, she said, "Nah, I'll come. I could use the walk."

It was stupid, but he felt... proud. Like he was bringing her into his space. Like she might see it, see him, and something might click.

They climbed the stairs to Tim's floor. She walked close enough that their arms brushed once, and he swallowed down the feeling like it might embarrass him if he let it show.

He opened the door to the room.

And there was Sidney.

Shirtless, again. Sitting on the edge of his bed with his phone in one hand and a bottle of lotion in the other -- not in a gross way, just rubbing it into his arms like it was casual, like he'd forgotten anyone else existed.

The scent hit first. His cologne -- subtle, but warm. Faint music playing from his speaker. Some deep, slow beat that somehow made the room feel smaller.

Demi froze for half a second.

Then she smiled.

"Hey," she said, voice suddenly lighter.

Sidney looked up. Nodded once. "Yo."

That was all.

But something shifted in her. Tim could see it -- the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, straightened her back. Her eyes lingered. Not subtle.

"Sidney, this is Demi," Tim said, his voice already retreating into the background.

He nodded again. "Cool. Y'all working on that papers for next week?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling too easily. "Tim's been helping me. He's kind of a lifesaver."

He smirked -- not at Tim, not at her. Just... amused.

Tim crossed the room and pulled the book from his shelf, heart hammering. Demi was still standing near the doorway, arms folded now, leaning just a little, like gravity had tilted toward Sidney.

"Found it," Tim said, holding it out to her.

She took it, fingers brushing his for half a second before she turned back to Sidney. "Nice meeting you."

"You too."

Her voice was different now -- softer, more musical. She didn't even look at Tim as she slowly, almost unwilingly stepped back into the hallway. Tim followed her, trying to ignore the twist in his chest, the warmth that had drained into something cold and dull.

As they walked back to the library, she didn't talk much.

And Tim didn't ask why.

The Knock

Thursday evening. Rain tapping against the windows, steady and soft.

Tim was at his desk, headphones in, half-watching a lecture replay while highlighting the same sentence over and over. The room smelled like instant noodles and cheap detergent. Sidney had gone out hours ago. Or so he thought.

A knock startled him.

He pulled one earbud out. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open and there she was.

Demi.

Wearing makeup. Lip gloss, a bit of shimmer on her cheeks. Hair done. Tight black top, jeans that hugged her hips. She looked... not like study-group Demi. Not like library Demi.

"Hey," she said, and smiled. "Didn't think you'd be here."

Tim blinked. "I--uh, yeah. Just watching something. Did you need the book again or--?"

"No." She stepped inside, glancing around the room casually, like she was looking for something.

Or someone.

Then her face lit up.

Sidney stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung over one shoulder, wearing sweats and a clean T-shirt that clung to his chest like it was painted on. His expression shifted when he saw her -- not surprised. Just... pleased.

"Hey," he said, low and smooth.

Demi smiled wider. "Told you I'd come."

Tim's stomach dropped.

She wasn't here for him.

They'd gotten in touch somehow -- behind the scenes, behind him. While he was stuck on the sidelines, she'd slipped right into his orbit like everyone else eventually did.

Sidney stepped forward, gave her a lazy hug -- the kind where his hand settled low on her back and stayed there.

Demi giggled. Actually giggled.

Tim turned his eyes back to his laptop, screen still frozen on a paused video, sound long forgotten. He could hear their voices behind him. Murmured laughter. The scrape of his chair as they sat. The whisper of fabric.

He didn't look. He couldn't.

They stayed like that for twenty minutes. Talking, touching, soft tones just low enough that Tim couldn't make out every word -- only the shape of them. He heard her say "You're so bad," and Sid counter, "You like that, huh?"

Tim wanted to disappear into the chair.

Then Sidney spoke up, louder this time. "Hey, Timmy -- you cool if we take off? She's hungry."

Tim froze at the name.

Timmy.

Sid'd never called him that before. It was playful, almost affectionate -- but coming from this huge black guy, it felt like a pat on the head. A collar around his neck.

Demi giggled again.

She looked over her shoulder at Tim and said, "Bye, Timmy."

Like it had always been his name.

Tim nodded, not trusting his voice. Just watched them leave -- her hand slipping into Sid's like it belonged there.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Tim sat there in the silence, the fake lecture still playing in the background. His chest felt hollow, scraped clean. Like the room had been emptied of something he never even got to touch.

And that name -- Timmy -- kept echoing in the back of his mind. Small. Harmless. Belittling.

It stuck.

Patterns

The days that followed felt blurry.

Tim still went to class. Still typed up notes. Still answered when spoken to. But it was like he was watching his own life through a pane of glass -- thin enough to see through, thick enough to keep him out.

Sidney didn't say much. He was never cruel. Just effortlessly distant. Like whatever had passed between Demi and him hadn't even registered as unusual. Tim was just there -- like a chair, or a rug, or a fan that whirred quietly in the background.

Tim saw Demi two more times that week. Once leaving their room's floor with her hair a mess and her heels in her hand. Another time walking across campus with Sidney's hoodie pulled over her head. She saw Tim, waved cheerfully, and kept walking.

Tim didn't wave back.

Something shifted in him. He started noticing more.

The way the black guys on campus always had girls around them. Not just beautiful girls -- all types. Laughing, touching their arms, leaning in too close. It was subtle, but unmistakable. At lunch tables. In the library. In the gym lobby. Even in the quad, just stretched out on the grass, girls lying half on top of them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Whenever a white boyfriend posed his hand lower than his girlfriend hip, a subtle gesture -- or a quick slap -- made it raise again to an appropriate waist-level. But black guys stood or walked with their huge hands on girl's asses all the time. Even when they were not their "official" girlfriends! And the girls just smiled or giggled.

Tim had been caught -- like many other white guys -- staring at girls' boobs, only to be scolded for it, or given the typical "eyes here" signal. But many girls could be caught checking black guy's bulges with quite the same distracted gaze.

It wasn't like Tim hadn't seen it before. But now he saw it.

And he couldn't unsee it.

Lunch with Zack

Friday afternoon, Tim sat outside with Zack -- another guy from his economics class. They weren't close, but they ended up at the same table after the lecture, both clutching sad cafeteria sandwiches like they'd lost something they couldn't name.

Zack was pale, freckled, and wore the same corduroy jacket every day. They both looked like they belong to the same category within college. That made it easier to talk.

At some point, while they watched students passig in front of them, Tim said, "You ever notice how... some guys just get all the attention?"

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Some guys?"

Tim hesitated. "Like... guys who are bigger. Confident. Especially, you know..." he trailed off, then Zack nodded slowly, ending the sentence:

"Yeah. Black guys. I've noticed," he chuckled.

Tim waited for him to laugh, or mock him. He didn't.

"It's weird," Tim said. "I feel like I'm not even in the same category."

"You're not," Zack said, not unkindly. "Neither am I."

They sat in silence for a bit, watching a group of girls giggle as they passed a tall, dreadlocked guy sitting with his shirt half unbuttoned.

"I used to feel kinda bad about it," Zack said eventually. "Still do, sometimes. But... I dunno. It's also kind of hot, you know?"

Tim turned to look at him. "What?"

Zack shrugged. "Like, the way they get worshipped. The way girls just want them. It's not even subtle. I guess I started leaning into it. Watching porn and stuff. Interracial stuff, mostly."

He said it like it was normal. Like he was saying he preferred tea over coffee.

Tim looked down at his tray, suddenly very aware of the quiet weight inside him.

"I only watch that now," Zack added, biting into a chip, his cheeks flushing. "Feels more real, I guess. Like the way things actually are."

Tim didn't respond.

But that night, when he was alone in his room, he checked Sidney's laptop, confirming on his calendar he wouldn't come back early.

The light was low. His desk lamp barely lit the keyboard. He kept the volume at a whisper, just enough to hear the moans and whispered praise.

He typed interracial into the search bar.

Search History

The thumbnails filled the screen like they were daring Tim to look. And he did. Slowly, carefully, clicking the first video that didn't feel too ridiculous.

A white girl -- blonde, pretty -- kneeling between the legs of a black guy who barely looked at her. He was huge. Everything about him.

His body looked sculpted from granite, chest broad and glistening. But it was the other thing -- the one Tim couldn't stop staring at -- that really made his breath catch.

That black cock was massive.

Long, thick, dark, pulsing in her hands like it had a heartbeat of its own. She moaned before she even touched it properly, eyes wide like she'd seen something sacred.

Tim swallowed.

He'd never measured myself. Not really. He always thought he was close to average. Maybe a little under on bad days. But watching her try -- and fail -- to fit him in her mouth, Tim felt something shift inside him.

He couldn't compete with that.

Not even close.

The longer he watched, the hotter he felt -- not just inside his pants, but in my chest. Like shame had turned into fire, curling behind his ribs. His heart pounded in his ears. Part of him wanted to close the tab. The rest... couldn't look away.

It wasn't just the size.

It was the worship.

The way she looked at him -- needy, grateful, almost reverent. The way she whispered things like, "God, you're so big... you're gonna ruin me..."

She wanted to be ruined. To be stretched, conquered, owned.

Tim clicked another video. Then another. It was all the same -- different girls, different guys, but always the same dynamic.

Big. Black. In charge.

And them -- small. White. Eager.

And those terms he has heard, but now had whole different meaning: BBC, snowbunny.

His hand drifted to his waistband, hesitating.

And then the thought came -- sharp and uninvited:

Is Sidney like that?

He flinched, like he'd said it out loud.

But now he couldn't unthink it. He lived with him. Shared a bathroom with him. He'd seen his towels on the floor, his boxers hanging over his desk chair, his girls -- Tim's girl(?) -- melting in his presence.

He didn't need to show anything. It was obvious.

Tim stared at the screen, heat crawling down his spine. The girl was moaning again, louder now, as the man pushed deeper inside her.

Is that what Demi experiences?

Is Sidney rocking her world like that? It looks like, judging for how hooked she is -- like every other girl around.

He closed the tab. Sat there in the dark, sweat at his temples, heart racing, pants tight and moist. He didn't move for a long time.

Outside, someone was laughing in the hallway.

Inside, he couldn't hear anything but my own breath.

Noise pollution

It started happening more often.

At first, Sidney used to text ahead, or flash a look when he brought someone over -- a subtle kind of warning. A way to say, "This is my space now."

But lately... he didn't bother.

Tim'd be sitting at his desk with his headphones in, or pretending to read, and Sidney would stroll in with a girl in tow -- laughing, always laughing -- like he was a doorknob. Sometimes he'd nod at Tim. Sometimes not even that.

Like tonight.

She was new. Tim didn't recognize her -- tall, Latina maybe, with long, dark curls and an hourglass body that didn't seem real. She wore a tight crop top and high-waisted jeans. Her laugh was loud, her voice low and teasing. She smelled like perfume and warm skin.

They came in fast, like they'd already started somewhere else.

Tim was in bed already, facing the wall, pretending to be asleep.

Sidney didn't care.

Clothes hit the floor. Her voice dropped to a whisper. The mattress creaked.

Then the now familiar sounds started.

Wet. Slow. Rhythmic.

At first, Tim wasn't sure what he was hearing -- just breathy noises, the slick sounds of movement, her soft murmurs between licks and gasps. But it built. Grew unmistakable.

No foreplay. No kisses. She was already sucking him off. Deep, deliberate strokes. Slurping sounds. Her nails scratching lightly against his skin. Tim could hear her moaning into it -- like it was too much for her, and she loved every second.

Sidney let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, just like that... damn."

The bed creaked.

Tim gripped the edge of his blanket, heart pounding. He tried to shut it out, but the sound poured into his ears like hot syrup.

She moaned louder. Gagged a little. Then kept going.

Tim squeezed his eyes shut, shame burning under his skin. He wasn't watching, but his mind filled in the blanks. HE imagined her on her knees between his legs, mascara smudged, drool dripping down his shaft. Her hands on his thighs. Sidney's smug, lazy grin.

"Is he like those guys in the videos?" The question returned, uninvited. Tim felt his own body respond -- tight, twitching, painfully aware of every inch he wasn't. His fully-erect dick was completely covered in his fist. He knew the girl would be struggling with both hands -- and her lips -- to hold Sid's.

The rhythm shifted.

The mattress groaned louder now -- a new tempo. Her voice rising, higher, breathier. She was on top of him now. Riding him. Tim could hear her whispering Sid's name, and then something else -- the kind of thing that pierced through the dark like a needle.

"Oh my god, you're so big..."

Sidney grunted. "Can't take it, huh?"

"I love it," she moaned. "It hurts but I love it..."

Tim's gut twisted, and he silently sighed as his hand become a mess under the sheets.

Demi's face flashed in his mind. Her laugh. Her sweetness. Her lip gloss. And suddenly, it hit him -- this wasn't just about this girl. It was about all of them.

"Sid didn't even keep Demi," he thought. "I should feel angry on her behalf. But mostly... I felt pathetic."

Ashamed, as stealth as possible, he cleaned his hand and his deflating willie with the bed linen. It wasn't even a big mess.

The sounds at the other side got louder. Faster. She was gasping now, chanting his name like a prayer. He was growling low, rough, taking control. The slaps of skin. Her squeals.

"I shouldn't be hearing this," Tim worried.

But he couldn't not.

Every sound sank into him like a needle. Every moan twisted around something tender and raw. His heart was racing. His throat was dry. His dick was trying to get hard again, but miserably engorged to a half boner.

He stayed frozen, eyes wide in the dark, staring at the blank wall while someone else claimed the other half of his world -- louder, harder, deeper.

When it was over, she laughed again. Whispered something Tim didn't catch. The sheets rustled. A soft slap. Kisses. The bed creaked as they settled.

Tim heard Sidney murmur, "You're even been louder than Demi."

She giggled.

And that was it.

That name -- Demi -- landing like a final blow.

Like he didn't care. Like she didn't matter. Like Tim didn't matter.

Tim waited until they fell asleep, still tangled. Then he got up quietly. Went to the bathroom. Closed the door.

And sat on the toilet with his head in my hands, not knowing whether he wanted to cry, or jerk-off, or just disappear.

Timmy

It was almost comforting, seeing Demi again.

She looked tired. Frustrated. Her texts to Tim had been short. Just: "Can we talk?" and "I need to see you."

They met outside the student center. She barely said hi, walking fast, her arms folded tight over her chest.

"He's such a dick," she snapped as we walked. "You know he's seeing other girls?"

Tim didn't say anything.

"I mean, like--blatantly. Doesn't even hide it. And I just found out today. From another girl. Can you believe that?"

Tim nodded softly. He could.

"Ugh. I'm so stupid," she muttered. "I should've known. You probably knew."

That stung. But he still said nothing.

She followed Tim back to the dorm. Her footsteps were angry. Determined. Tim thought maybe she'd finally see him clearly.

Sidney was lounging on his bed, shirtless, wearing sweatpants, earbuds in. He looked up slowly when they walked in -- didn't even flinch.

Demi stopped in front of him like she was about to swing a punch.

"Are you seriously fucking other girls?" she asked.

He tugged one earbud out. "You came all the way here to ask that?"

She blinked. "So, it's true?"

Sidney didn't even sit up. "I told you I wasn't looking for a girlfriend."

"That's not what you said last week."

He shrugged. "Didn't say you couldn't leave."

She stared at him.

Tim couldn't understand the exchange, but he witnessed that moment when something inside her cracked. Not in the righteous way. Not in a way that made her storm out or scream.

She folded.

"Why do you do this?" she asked quietly.

"'Cause I can," he said. Not cruel. Just honest.

A long silence passed. And then -- as if gravity had pulled her back -- she sat down beside him.

And started kissing him.

Right in front of Tim.

The white roommate -- as following tradition -- turned to face his desk, trying to focus on nothing. His heartbeat thumped in my ears.

Behind him, lips smacked softly. Her voice let out a tiny gasp.

A moment later -- the sound.

Wet. Slow. Sucking.

Again.

Like a loop Tim couldn't escape.

He gripped the desk edge, frozen, staring at the wall like it might save him.

"God," Demi moaned, "I missed this."

Sidney exhaled through his nose, amused. "Don't stop this time."

She giggled, a sound Tim used to love. "I won't, promise."

The pace picked up. Tim could hear it all -- the rhythm of her mouth, her throat trying to take more. Little slurps. Moans. The wet pull of her lips.

Tim felt heat rush through his body. Humiliation twisted in his gut. He hated it. He hated himself.

But he couldn't move.

Tim's pants grew tight. Uncomfortably tight. He tried not to touch, not to react -- but his body betrayed him.

Sidney groaned and Tim could hear the gurgling sound of her swallowing.

Tim came silently, shamefully, untouched. It left a warm, disgusting mess in his boxers.

The ominous symbolism was hard to pass: Tim had cum in his pants, stimulated only by the sound of Sid cumming on Tim's best friend, who had been blowing his black cock with all her strenght for about 15 minutes. Tim's semen sticked into a smudge in his underwear, while Sidney's black sperm was being eagerly swallowed by Demi.

And still... they kept going.

For at least two hours.

The bed rocked. It only went silent for seconds whenever they switched positions.

Her moans grew louder. His voice stayed low, commanding.

"Say it," Tim heard Sidney murmur.

"You're so big," Demi breathed. "God, I forgot how deep you go..."

Laughter. Breathless. Loving.

And then -- as Tim's stomach twisted, his shame already overflowing -- her voice rose in a teasing whisper:

"You think little Timmy can hear us?"

Sidney chuckled. "He's used to it."

Demi giggled harder. "Poor tiny white boys..."

They both laughed.

Tim didn't sleep that night.

Morning Blur

She didn't expect to stay the night.

Last night had been a blur -- a swirl of anger, questions, his scent, the tension in his arms when he pulled her close. She came to confront him. To walk away. But the moment she saw him -- shirtless, unbothered, powerful -- something inside her buckled.

It wasn't just lust. It was gravity.

And once his hands were on her, her body didn't wait for her brain to catch up.

Now, as morning light crept through the blinds, she felt his chest rise and fall against her cheek. Warm. Solid. She was curled into him like he was a pillow she'd had for years. One arm slung across his waist. Her legs tangled with his.

She smiled, eyes still closed.

Damn.

Last night had been... intense. She could still feel the ache in her thighs, the lazy satisfaction humming through her bones. He hadn't said much afterward -- just let her nestle into him. Like this was normal.

She become aware of a special taste on her breath and and instant craving moved her hand to the black hunk's cock. Even in its soft state it barely fit on her fingers. It felt heavy and... inviting. Licking her lips, she started stroking it slowly. It grew hard and beautiful, its rosy head bulging atop the dark mast.

Waking him up with her lips seemed a kinky and yummy idea...

And then she noticed it.

Movement.

Someone else in the room.

Her eyes blinked open, adjusting to the morning glow. She tilted her head slightly.

Tim.

Standing near the bed, stiff and pale, eyes wide -- staring.

Her brows furrowed, confused for a heartbeat... then she followed his gaze.

Her hand stopped the pumping motion, but stayed there, hesitant, wondering...

How close Tim was. How long he'd been there?

Her voice came out low, husky, still rough from sleep. "Tim?"

He startled slightly but didn't say anything.

She looked at him, truly looked -- his tense shoulders, the pink in his cheeks, the way he couldn't seem to look away.

And something clicked. A mix of pity, confusion... and curiosity.

She whispered, barely louder than a breath, "What's going on in that head of yours, Timmy?"

He didn't answer.

But she could see it.

All of it -- the shame, the longing, the confusion -- swimming in his expression like a secret he couldn't hide.

She didn't push. She just blinked slowly and leaned her head back against Sidney's chest, stretching the blankets on top of them both.

She heard Tim's soft steps going away, and carefully leaving the room.

Then, the silence stretched.

And in it, something unspoken passed between them.

Something that wouldn't be easily undone.

Shadows on the Path

Tim left without saying a word.

The dorm hallway felt colder than usual. Empty, but too loud in his head. Every step echoed with something he didn't want to name.

Outside, the early sun had barely burned off the night. Campus was quiet -- a few students walking, bikes gliding by, distant laughter -- but Tim couldn't stop replaying the last five minutes.

Or rather, one image.

The shape of Sidney, half-covered by the sheets... and Demi's fingers resting just beside it, like she'd fallen asleep guarding a secret Tim had no business seeing.

And yet... he saw it.

Bigger than the videos.

That thought came uninvited. He'd told himself that porn was exaggerated, that it was all fake angles, shadows, tricks. But now he knew. Now he had a real comparison. And his stomach sank.

He used to think he was maybe a little below average. Manageable. Now... he didn't feel like a man at all. He was still hard inside his pants, but realized no one would probably notice. The bulge was no very different from any other fold on her jeans crotch.

He found himself walking aimlessly. Past the library. Across the quad. Sitting on a bench for who knows how long. The birds chirped. Students passed.

Tim just sat, shrinking into his own thoughts. His dick finally shrinked to nothing, too.

Eventually, he pulled out his phone and texted Zack.

"You around?"

Zack replied quick.

"Cafeteria, back corner."

Zack was nursing a black coffee and chewing on a breakfast bar when Tim arrived. His usual tired expression shifted when he saw Tim's face.

"Damn," he said. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Tim didn't even sit down before blurting, "I think Sidney's, like... huge."

Zack blinked, then smirked. "Okay. Context?"

Tim dropped into the chair across from him and stared at the table. "He was asleep. Demi too. I saw... something. I think." he lied. He enjoyed a perfect, long look at the huge black meat hardening under Demi's little hand ministrations.

Zack leaned back, sipped his coffee. "Yeah, I mean. That tracks."

Tim looked up.

"Dude," Zack said, shrugging, "have you seen how girls act around guys like him? They don't fake that. It's like... nature or whatever. They're just built to attract."

Tim looked away. "So what are we even supposed to do?"

Zack smiled -- not unkindly, just... amused. "Not try to compete, for one. I mean, some of us just aren't built for that game. Most of us!" he chuckled, waiving his index finger between them both.

Tim said nothing. But his face was increasingly gloomy.

"There are roles, though," Zack added. "Other ways to fit into it."

Tim frowned. "Roles?"

Zack leaned in, voice lower. "Look, this might sound weird. But, like... there are guys who lean into it. Cucks. Committed pussy-free. Femboys. Some even go full sissy. Not out of shame -- but because it just feels right. Like, it makes more sense to accept it."

Tim's heart skipped. Zack looked stoked while explaining it.

"Sissy?" he repeated, quietly.

"Yeah," Zack nodded. "It's not just kink. It's a whole vibe. Some wear panties, skirts, whatever. Soft guys who stop pretending to compete and start enjoying where they actually feel right."

Now visibly excited, cheeks flushing red, Zack disclosed: "I mean. Now that you have seeing his black cock. Doesn't it turn you on?"

Tim swallowed hard.

Zack didn't push. He just sat back. "Just saying. There's a reason more people are talking about BBC. Not everyone's meant to be the alpha. Some people are... something else."

"Me?" Zack looked down, his hands fidgeting now. In a hushed tone, he shrugged and confessed to Tim: "My sex life for now is watching BBC porn".

Tim didn't answer. But the words stuck.

Long after Zack left, long after the walk back to the dorm, they stayed. Echoed. Twisted.

He found himself on his laptop. Searching.

Girly boys

Then: sissy boys

The screen lit with tons of pictures of men, mostly young, mostly smallish, 99% percent white or asian, dressed and posing as women.

Image after image. Article after post. Some silly, some poetic. Some raw.

Then: soft boys in panties

He had remembered the thong.

The one he found days ago, crumpled under Sidney's pillow. Still hidden, folded inside a sock at the back of his drawer.

The pictures showed many "sissies" in thongs like that.

His hands moved without thinking.

He pulled it out. Stared at the soft, delicate fabric. Black lace. Barely a whisper of clothing.

His stomach twisted. His cheeks burned.

But after a long moment of silence -- he stood, closed the door shut...

... and started to undress.

Black Lace

His fingers trembled slightly as he unfolded the fabric.

Black.

It wasn't flashy. Not neon, not pink. It was sleek, soft, sensual. The lace was smooth under his thumbs, delicate but bold -- the kind of thing you only wore when you wanted to be seen.

Tim stared at it for a long time.

He could still remember the day he found it -- wedged between Sidney's sheets and the pillow, half-hidden like a secret no one tried very hard to hide. It was Madison's, he was almost sure. She'd left in a rush that morning, hair messy, grin lazy.

He didn't mean to keep it. At first.

But once it was in his drawer, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

And now here he was. Shirt off. Sweatpants kicked away. Standing in the dorm room -- his dorm room -- bare and unsure, holding this impossibly small thing in his hands like it meant something.

He took a breath.

Then, carefully, he stepped into it.

It was tight. Not made for him, not really, he pondered. The fabric stretched across his bulge kinda awkward, but it held. His skin prickled with a strange heat as the lace settled against him -- snug, exposing, wrong.

And yet.

He turned slowly toward the mirror. At first, he could barely look.

But when he did...

The thin stripe disappearing between his buttocks made them look rounder and glowing. Somehow her legs looked different, too.

A different face stared back at him. Still him -- but not quite. There was something small there. Fragile. A little absurd. But also... honest.

His body didn't remotely look like Sidney's. It never had. But something about leaning in to the difference -- not hiding it -- made his chest tighten in an unexpected way.

His thoughts swirled.

Would Zack understand this? Would Demi laugh? Would Sidney even care?

Would they suspect something already?

His eyes dropped again, scanning the line of lace on his pale thighs.

He didn't know what to call this feeling.

But for the first time in days -- maybe weeks -- he wasn't spiraling.

He was just quiet.

Still.

The Moment

The hallway was warm, lit with late-afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows. Sidney's hand rested low on Demi's back, then playfully swatted her bum as they reached the door.

"Hey!" she laughed, spinning around to face him. He grinned, all teeth and swagger, unlocking the door like he owned the place -- which, to be fair, he kind of did.

They stepped inside.

And stopped.

Tim was standing by the mirror. Frozen. Bare except for a pair of black lace panties that clung awkwardly to his pale frame. His arms instinctively darted to cover himself, but there was no real way to hide what they'd seen.

The room went dead quiet.

Then Sidney let out a short, incredulous bark of laughter. "Yo. What the hell, Timmy?"

Tim didn't speak. His face was flushed deep red, his whole body tensed like he was about to vanish into thin air. He looked cornered -- not just embarrassed, but crushed.

Demi's smile vanished.

"Sid," she said, sharply.

He was still chuckling, but less now. "I mean... really? Dude's rockin' lace now?"

"Sidney!" she barked again, stepping forward. Her tone dropped, steady. "Look at him."

He did. Slowly. The laughter drained from his face, replaced by something more uncertain.

Tim looked like he might cry. In his shame, he didn't want to move, to expose himself even more by turning to find cover.

Demi felt a knot form in her chest -- a strange mix of guilt, protectiveness, and something harder to name. She didn't move closer just yet. She didn't want to make it worse.

"Tim..." she said, gently. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," he croaked. "I didn't mean... anyone... Just--just go, okay?"

She shook her head. "No. You're not alone in this."

Sidney shifted uncomfortably. "You knew he was into this kinda faggot thing?"

"No," she admitted. "But it doesn't matter. He's figuring something out. And if we laugh at him now... we're not his friends."

Sid scoffed lightly, but she could tell the edge was gone. He wasn't trying to be cruel -- he was just shocked. Unprepared.

"He's not hurting anyone," she said softly, moving a little closer to Tim. "Maybe this is part of who he is."

Tim looked up, eyes glassy. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not saying it to be nice," she replied. "I'm saying it because I've seen you lately. Quiet. Distant. Lost. And now... I kind of get it."

She turned back to Sid. "You say you're all about confidence, right? About people being real with who they are?"

He nodded slowly, still watching Tim like he was trying not to laugh.

"Then let's actually mean it."

Silence stretched.

Then Sidney rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn, man... Alright. I was a jerk. I just wasn't expecting..."

"I know," Tim whispered.

Sid nodded again, more sincerely this time. "You do you, bro. For real. If this is how you white bois feel right, that's your thing."

The tension in the room eased -- just a little.

Demi finally stepped forward and gently rested a hand on Tim's shoulder. "You're not weird, okay? Or broken. You're just trying to understand yourself."

Tim didn't trust his voice, so he nodded.

Sidney gave a small, awkward grin. "Still not sure I wanna see you in those again, babe." he exaggerated the "babe" part.

Demi shot him a look.

He raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Supportive. I got it."

He gave a final shrug, grabbed his bag off the chair, and nodded toward the door.

"I'll give you two some space," he said, tone somewhere between respectful and rattled. "Back later."

The door clicked shut.

Demi grabbed Tim's chin affectionately, looking into his eyes, and he managed a weak smile.

It wasn't perfect. But it was a start.

Soft Questions

Silence followed, soft and almost tender. The hum of the mini-fridge. A breeze through the cracked window.

Demi sat on the edge of Tim's bed, waiting.

He stood near the mirror, still hugging his arms around his chest, the lace panties still clinging delicately to him. She could see the battle inside him -- shame and curiosity twisting like opposite currents.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

Tim nodded too quickly, then shook his head.

"I didn't mean for anyone to see. I don't even know why I did it. It was stupid."

"No, it wasn't." Demi's voice was firm, but kind. "It was private. That doesn't make it stupid."

He looked down. "But it's not normal."

She smiled softly. "Normal is overrated."

Tim felt then that Demi, his black roommate's sex toy, had gone, and Demi, his supportive friend had arrived, allowing him to open the gates of his conflicted emotions.

A quiet laugh escaped him, dry and shaky. "I don't even know what this means. I saw stuff online. Read things. Some of it... scared me. Some of it turned me on. I guess that's even worse."

"Why worse?"

"Because it means I liked it." His cheeks flushed. "Being small. Weak. Dressed like this. Like I belong on the sidelines."

Demi didn't flinch. She let him say it. Then leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees.

"Tim... it's okay to feel complicated. You're not the only guy who's ever questioned where he fits."

He looked up, eyes uncertain.

"Do you think I'm... broken?"

"No." She shook her head slowly. "I think you're learning who you are. And maybe that version of you doesn't match what people expected. That's not failure. That's growth."

Tim didn't respond right away.

So Demi pressed gently. "Do you want to keep exploring this?"

He hesitated. "I... think so. I feel like I need to. It's not just a kink, it's like--like I feel right when I give in to it?" he lingered, half stating and half questioning.

Demi nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. So we figure it out. Slowly. On your terms."

Tim's eyes softened. "We?"

"If you want," she said. "I can be your sounding board. I'm not gonna judge you. And hey... if it helps to try different things -- clothes, roles, whatever -- maybe I can help with that too."

"Really?" he asked, voice cracking just slightly.

She smiled. "Tim, I like you. Not like that, maybe -- not right now -- but you've always been good to me. If this is part of your story, I want to see where it goes."

Tim sat down across from her, still in the black lace, finally starting to relax into himself.

"Thanks, Demi. I... I needed this more than I realized."

"I know," she said.

And they just sat like that for a while -- no noise, no pressure. Just space to be.

Questions We Don't Ask Ourselves

They sat on the floor now, backs against the bedframe, knees nearly touching. Tim was still in the black lace, but the tension in his shoulders had eased a little -- no longer trying to hide, just there, sitting with himself.

Demi gave him time. Let the silence linger until he broke it.

"It started the night I heard them," he said softly, staring at the wall across from him. "Sid and Madison. I was trying to sleep. But I heard everything. The sounds. Her voice. His voice."

Demi tilted her head gently, listening.

"I thought it would just make me uncomfortable," he went on, "but it didn't... exactly. It made me... feel something else. Not anger. Not jealousy, even? Just... small. Weak. And for some reason, that aroused me. I hated that it did."

Demi nodded, keeping her voice low. "And this morning? When we walked in?"

Tim looked down, ashamed again. "I didn't mean to... stare. I'd woken up early. I couldn't stop thinking about the night before. I--I guess I just wanted to see if he was really like that. If it was all in my head."

Demi's voice was quiet. "And was it?"

He hesitated. "No. He's... even bigger than I imagined. And standing there, seeing that... seeing it in your hand--" he trailed off.

Demi didn't press.

"I realized I couldn't offer what he does," Tim continued. "Not physically. Not sexually. And the weird part is... it wasn't just envy. It was this ache. Like... maybe I wasn't supposed to be the guy doing the things he does. Maybe I was supposed to be the one..." His voice faltered.

Demi looked over gently. "Being done to?"

Tim swallowed hard, cheeks glowing. "I guess so," his voice broke.

She watched him quietly. "That's not weird, you know."

He looked skeptical.

"I mean it," she said. "Tim... most people never question the role they're supposed to play. But you are. And that means something. You said it felt right when you put those on." She nodded toward the panties. "Like you could stop pretending for a second."

"Yeah," he admitted. "That moment felt like I was finally being honest with myself."

She tilted her head slightly. "Can I ask you something kind of... big?"

He nodded, wary but open.

"You said the sounds aroused you. That you couldn't give that kind of experience to a girl. But what if..." She paused, choosing her words. "What if it's not about giving anymore? What if part of you... wants to be in her place? Like in my place?"

Tim's breath caught.

Her eyes stayed kind, gentle. "Not just hearing the moans. But making them. Being the one on the bed, not beside it."

He blinked slowly, lips parted.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I never let myself imagine that. But now that you said it..." He shivered. "It does sound scary. And... BIG. But something I can't un-think."

Demi reached over and squeezed his hand. "You don't have to figure it all out tonight. But if you want to keep going -- I'll be here."

He nodded, teary-eyed but breathing steadier than before.

It wasn't shame anymore. It was something softer, gentler.

Something like hope.

The Quiet Changes

The days blurred, but not in the way they used to -- not lost in anxiety or obscurity. Now each one left behind a small imprint. A choice. A whisper of something new.

Demi kept her promise. She didn't push. She asked questions.

One morning over coffee in the dining hall, she looked at him across the table and said, "What do you feel when you wear something soft under your clothes?"

Tim thought about the black lace he had dared to keep on using after that day. Hidden. Quiet. Just for him.

"Like I'm allowed to breathe differently," he said, tilting his head, looking up to find the words. "Like no one can see it, but I can feel... like me."

She smiled. "Good. That means it matters."

That evening, she came by with a small shopping bag and placed it on his desk. No fanfare. Just a nod.

"I thought maybe you'd want something that fits better. Fabric that's meant to comfort, not tease."

Inside were a few soft pieces -- simple, neutral tones, no lace this time. Just the kind of delicate things someone could wear all day without thinking too hard.

That was the first quiet shift.

The second came in the bathroom two nights later.

Demi had him sit on the closed toilet lid while she pulled out a little pouch from her tote. "If we're gonna start caring about how you feel in your body," she said, "we should also care about how your body feels."

She showed him how to apply moisturizer in gentle circles, how to exfoliate without rubbing too hard, how to touch his own skin like it mattered.

"Your skin isn't just yours anymore," she said softly, dabbing serum beneath his eyes. "It's part of the story you're telling yourself. So be kind to it."

While she was mentoring him in all this witchcraft, she ahd to look at him naked, and touch and move his body around, and in the end they were both past any awkwardness. Indeed, he realized his junk had remained limp all the time. Surely it was because Demi was not the one naked, he found as an excuse.

When she left that night, Tim stood shirtless in the mirror, skin glowing just slightly. He touched his jaw, his collarbone. He didn't smile -- not quite -- but something like peace hovered close.

The third change -- he tracked those kinda milestones -- wasn't planned.

He was brushing his teeth when he noticed the fine trail of hair on his chest. It wasn't much. Barely there. But it felt out of place now -- like it didn't belong to the version of himself he was getting to know.

He didn't even text Demi first. Just locked the bathroom door with a razor, and took a deep breath.

Afterward, wrapped in a towel, he ran his hands down his bare arms, over his smoothed chest... and hairless groin. He had heard in the past that some men shaved their pubes to make their cocks look longer -- "the smallest the bush, the longer the tree" they said.

His bald dick looked tinier than ever, but...

The reflection looking back wasn't someone new, exactly -- just someone he'd stopped ignoring.

They talked about it all the next day, sitting beneath an old red maple near the art building. Demi listened as Tim attempted to explain how it felt.

"It's not like I suddenly want to be someone else," he said. "It's more like I'm remembering someone I buried a long time ago. Someone mild. Someone who didn't have to... pretend?"

"That someone deserves space," she said. "Even if you don't have the words yet."

Tim laughed quietly and whispered in her ear. "The words I have so far are Big Black Cock and tiny whitey dicky".

She looked at him, surprised, and both burst in laughter.

When they calmed she motherly passed her arm over his shoulders, smiling, and leaned onto his joking, self-demeaning reference. "Yes, you know how much I appreciate the former," she said, biting her lower lip and holding her hands open apart, like signaling the size of Sidney's BBC. Tim nodded and breathed deep, amused.

"But I'm also learning to appreciate..." she lingered, and she showed him her her thumb and index separated a mere inch.

Tim's eyes opened wide, mocking a surprise gesture, ans slapped her hand. "You... bitch! You well know I'm... slightly bigger than that!" And both rolled of laugh again, holding hands. People passing nearby looked at them and smiled.

They kept joking, having a good time but also deepening their trust and connection. Demi kissed his cheek, and he squeezed her hand, thankful for her friendship.

He looked ahead, now more solemn. "It's like I'm... halfway between things. But the in-between is finally starting to feel like home."

Demi rested her head briefly against his shoulder. "Good. Then we're on the right path... Bitch!"

Both giggled again in a hug.

Conversations at the Edge

It was cloudy when Tim found Zack sitting on the library lawn, legs stretched out, a textbook open but forgotten in his lap. Tim hesitated for a moment, then dropped into the grass beside him. Zack didn't look surprised.

"Hey," Tim said.

Zack nodded. "Hey."

They sat in silence for a bit, watching clouds drift by above the spires of the old science building.

Zack teased. "What's in your mind today, white boi?"

Tim grinned, and finally asked. "You ever think about how it's always them?", his voice barely above a murmur.

Zack glanced at him. "You mean the black guys?"

Tim nodded. "Of course! The Black Gods! They don't even try. And girls just... orbit."

Zack gave a soft laugh. "Yeah. I can't go unnoticed. It messed with my head for a while. Still does, sometimes. It does all the time, actually. Just different now."

Tim leaned back on his elbows. "I hear you. I used to think we just needed to get more confident. Or have more swagger. Or something. But now I'm not sure it's even about us."

Zack didn't respond right away. When he did, his voice had changed -- a little lower, more careful.

"You ever wonder if it's not about them being them, but maybe... about us not being us?"

Tim turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"Centuries ago, I used to think I had to compete. Then I figured out I would have a very hard time to compete." Zack said.

"Don't tell me, man," Tim resonated. "Sharing room with Sidney is a humbling experience. I never fully told you... " he vacillated a few seconds, then opened up "He brings girls all the time, and while there is a divider, I can hear everything. I hear every girl he brings sucking his cock like there is no tomorrow! Damn, they clearly swallow his load!"

Zack looked at him, suddenly more alert than ever, nodding at Tim, waiting for more details.

"And it is not like they make him cum quickly anyway. The guy can stand twenty minutes blowjobs like his watching a reality!" he explained.

"Gosh! I know... They have such a stamina!" said Zack, enthusiastic. "I don't have a black roommate, but the guy next door has a similar roster. Almost every night... I can't hear if they're having oral, but this guy bangs them for hours!" Admiration was obvious, and his fidgeting hands showed how worked up he was.

"Uh... That's humulliating, too," added Tim. "After he let them milk his load, he goes on fucking them with no resting period. And yes, he lasts hours, too. Sometimes I guess they stop when the girl -- or girls, because sometimes he had two at the same time -- gets to tired after the roaring orgasms they get from him." The memories had him trembling in the end.

Zack looked at him empathically. "Boi... I envy you, really. I'm not that close to the action. That's why I started watching BBC porn exclusively. You already know. But I used to cum so fast... I spurted in less than a minute, when the scene was just starting... I felt ashamed and... unsatisfied, and spent." His voice trailed off. "I wanted to be able to enjoy them having real sex for a longer time. So I started edging as far as I could."

"Edging?" Asked Tim, intrigued.

"Oh. It's when you jerk a little -- I barely touch myself -- but stop whenever you feel you are close, trying to hold. Sometimes I even have to look away from the screen," Zack chuckled.

Tim smiled back, sharing the feeling of how difficult is to cool down to the image -- or sounds -- or Real Men having sex.

"Anyway... Although that allowed me to watch a bit longer, I still was feeling bad about... jerking. You know what I mean... Spurting my jizz at the sight of those Black Studs that can cum real, potent seed..." Zack's passionate description contrasted with his quiet voice.

Tim nodded in agreement with the other boi's feelings.

"Then I stopped. Or... someone helped me stop."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Someone?"

Zack hesitated. "Her name's Tara. We met in a lit seminar. She's... kind of intense. But in a good way. Saw right through me from day one."

He paused again, as if weighing something.

"Well, fact is she has an Ace of Spades tattoo on her wrist. You know... those proclaiming a girl is Black Only?". Queried Zack. Tim affirmed. He had recently known about that.

"She caught me looking at it in desbelieve, and of course she told right there that is was typical white boi behavior, and told me -- didn't asked me -- that I surely was a BBC admirer."

"I couldn't deny her anything. Her presence was too strong, and we were alone... She pushed me just a little and I told her everything. How watching them -- the guys like Sidney and the ones in porn -- made me feel like I wasn't even in the same species. And she didn't try to cheer me up. She just said: 'What if you're not supposed to be like them at all? What if your place is different, and that's okay?'"

Tim frowned. "Different how?"

Zack exhaled slowly, staring at the ground. "I didn't know at the time. But she helped me figure it out. We started talking about roles. Power. Desire. As I accepted myself as lesser than Real Men, she challenged me in ways I wasn't ready for."

Tim tilted his head. "Like what?"

Zack was quiet a moment. Then he looked Tim in the eye. "I'm wearing a cage."

Tim blinked. "A what?"

"A chastity device."

Tim stared at him, searching his face for a joke. There wasn't one.

"I've been wearing it for a few weeks now," Zack said calmly. "Tara's the keyholder."

Tim didn't know what to say. "You mean... you can't...?"

Zack gave a small smile. "Not unless she says so. Not unless she wants me to. And weirdly? That's what makes me feel closest to her. Not sex. I mean, between us. She bangs black gus all the time, and she give me all the details. Sometimes shows me pictures or videos."

Breathing deeply, Zack let a calm smile frame his next words. "I get beyond horny, of course, but I can't do anything about it. Not touch. Just the act of letting go."

Tim sat very still, heart suddenly pounding in his ears.

"I know it sounds crazy," Zack added quickly. "But it doesn't feel like punishment. It feels like freedom. Like I've stopped pretending to be someone I'm not. And the more I give up that control, the more I feel like... I finally fit somewhere."

Tim looked away, staring off at the sidewalk.

He didn't speak for a while.

Eventually, he whispered, "What does it feel like?"

Zack didn't ask what he meant by it. He knew.

"It's humbling," he said. "But also grounding. It keeps me aware of my place. And it makes me feel... taken care of. Like someone sees me, really sees me, and still wants me -- not in spite of what I'm not, but because of what I am: a toy she loves."

Zacks clasped his hands, like in a prayer, and dropped his final statement: "Real Men -- Black Men -- fuck and cum. As a white boi I just watch, admire, and dribble."

Tim nodded slowly. His thoughts were spiraling -- but not in panic. In strange, unsettling curiosity.

He didn't know what it meant yet.

But now... he couldn't stop wondering.

Mirror Talk

Demi knocked once before letting herself in, already smiling, holding a small pouch in one hand.

"I brought colors," she announced, lifting the pouch like a treasure.

Tim blinked from his desk. "Colors?"

She unzipped the pouch and fanned out a few slender tubes, compacts, and brushes. "Makeup. Thought we could try some. If you're up for it."

Tim opened his mouth to decline -- instinct, muscle memory -- but stopped. The soft shirt he was wearing, the way his skin felt since starting the new routine... He nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay?" she echoed, delighted. "Good. Sit."

He obeyed, perching on the edge of the bed while she pulled a chair in front of him and knelt slightly so their eyes were level. As she began, there was no pressure -- just light brushes over his skin, the hush of powder, her fingers occasionally turning his chin or brushing his hair aside.

"You've got great cheekbones," she murmured. "Underrated feature on you."

Tim chuckled, nervous. "Didn't know I had rated features."

She smiled, but as she leaned back to pick up another brush, her eyes lingered on his.

"You're quiet tonight," she said. "Different kind of quiet."

He didn't respond.

"Something's on your mind?"

He hesitated.

Her voice softened. "You don't have to tell me. But I can feel something shifted."

He looked down, biting his lip. After a long pause, he whispered, "I talked to Zack again."

Her brow lifted slightly. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "We were... just talking. About how we feel. About all the stuff we see -- guys like Sidney, girls like... everyone. And how small we feel."

She nodded slowly, letting him continue.

"And he said... he's been exploring something. Something kind of... extreme."

Demi said nothing, just waited.

Tim fidgeted with his hands. "He's wearing this thing. A chastity cage."

Her eyebrows raised -- not in shock, just interest. "Really?"

Tim looked up, half-expecting a laugh. But she was calm.

"And... he says it helps. That it gives him peace. That it makes him feel restrained. Respectful"

Demi tilted her head thoughtfully. "That makes total sense."

"It does?" Tim asked.

She smiled gently. "For some people, yeah. Sexual dynamics are more than just who's dominant or submissive. They're about comfort. Identity. Trust. Giving control can sometimes be the most intimate thing we do -- especially when the world keeps demanding we fake strength."

Tim swallowed hard. "Is that... is it bad? Weird?"

"No," she said firmly. "It's honest. I mean, if your dickie is so little you don't have much chance to actively use it..."

He looked at her, voice barely audible. "Do you think it's... something I should try?"

Demi was quiet for a moment, studying him. Then she reached out and smoothed her thumb along his brow bone.

"I think you're figuring yourself out," she said. "And I think your curiosity matters. If it helps you feel safer, freer, or closer to yourself -- even a little --, or if it keeps you from trying to masturbate as men do, then yes. We can try."

His breath caught. "We?"

She grinned. "You think I'd let you order the wrong size?"

He let out a soft laugh, eyes welling a bit with gratitude he didn't know how to name.

"Let's start with a few options," she said, already pulling her phone out. "You can pick one you like. Something soft, simple. No pressure."

As she began to scroll, Tim watched her -- this person who never flinched, never judged -- and felt something tighten in his chest. Not fear. Not shame.

Something closer to... surrender.

And it didn't feel like losing.

It felt like becoming.

Measuring Gently

Demi sat cross-legged on Tim's bed, the faint glow from her phone lighting up specs and product reviews. Tim stood nearby, half-fidgeting, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn't said much since she brought up sizing.

"I know it might still be awkward," she said softly, still scrolling, "but the fit's kind of important. Too tight and it'll hurt. Too loose and it won't do what it's meant to."

Tim nodded but didn't move.

She looked up. "Tim... if you want this, really want to explore it... I need to measure properly. Just to help you find what's right."

He hesitated -- visibly conflicted, eyes darting to the floor. Demi had already seeing him naked, briefly, when teaching him how to exfoliate. This time she would have to see especifically his private parts, but...

"Okay," he said after a long pause, voice small.

She looked away immediately, focusing on her phone again to give him space as he fumbled with the waistband of his lounge pants. When he finally whispered, "You can look," her gaze lifted slowly.

She turned to him and couldn't contain a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, it is adorable!" she said, and pinching hes uncut tip with the point of her thumb and index finger, she lifted it and looked at his small testicles.

"And so well-groomed, Timmy!" she nodded, approvingly. "It looks so small and dainty!"

"It is so different," she said, looking at it, thinking aloud. "So very different from what Sidney's sports. No wonder you white bois might be forever virgins. How crazy that evolution branched so diverse from the same Homo Sapiens."

Tim listened, slightly humilliated, but find himself agreeing with her. "Black guys are definitely superiors. We talked about it with Zack. It's the same for us."

She smiled -- gently, genuinely -- and nodded. "Okay," she said warmly. "I'm glad you both discarded any pretension. Now let's measure you."

She turned to one shelf and looked into a box with pens and other stuff. She took a long wooden ruler graduated in inches and halves. She looked at Tim and shook her head. Combing through the box she found a smaller plastic ruler marked with eights of an inch.

"This is more appropriate for you, my boi" she grinned. Tim blushed and smiled, resigned.

She used a shoelace around Tim's ball, and then put it on the ruler and took note on her phone. Then she measured the length and girth. "That would be easier in millimeters" she uttered, and then she looked up at Tim and announced: "I have to measure it hard, honey", and pinching his dick with two fingers, she started slowly stroking.

Tim face was red as he let her touch his weenie, which was reluctant to stiffen.

Demi considered licking him, but -- even as much as she loved Tim -- it felt like kissing an earthworm. But she quickly got a better idea...

"This is so nice and easy! When I want to jerk Sid's huge cock, I can't even close my hand around it. It is tiresome, because it is so heavy, and gets so fucking hard. Of course I love the effort, as you well know. I can't resist tasting it, really. And even with a lot of practice, I choke and had to stop with less than a third in my mouth!" And there it was, the white boi was already sporting an immense three inches erection.

She measured the length and girth again, jotted the numbers down, and flicked a finger to the foreskin-covered tip. Tim yelped as she laughed "You can cover that micro-penis of yours, sweety."

He moved quickly to cover himself again, heat creeping up his cheeks. She focused again on her phone, tapped a few options on the screen, pretending to compare models and lock mechanisms, giving him time to breathe.

"Looks like the XS sizes offer the best comfort for whitebois anyway," she said casually, voice even.

He looked at her, eyes unsure. "XS?"

"Yeah," she said, meeting his gaze. "There are no XXS, unfortunately. But one of these will work. Discreet. Lightweight. Easy to manage. You'll hardly know it's there."

She gave a little smile. "Except when you feel the need. But I'll keep the key, of course, so you'll have to learn to handle frustration."

He gleamed, just barely -- but it was a real gleam, and something in him seemed to relax.

Demi returned to the cart screen. "Let's go with this one. I'll handle the order. It'll be our secret."

Tim nodded, swallowing nervously.

And for the Nth time, Demi could see the shift in him: the trembling shape of someone not shrinking... but transforming. Well... maybe shrinking, too.

Waiting

The week stretched longer than any midterms week he could remember. Not because of tests -- those, he could handle -- but because of the package. The one Demi had ordered for him. The one that made him feel both terrified and excited every time he thought about it.

And he thought about it constantly.

In lecture halls, during note-taking, even walking between classes, his mind looped back to it. A cage. Something real. Something meant to change him.

He sat quieter than usual in classes, not quite invisible -- not anymore. A few students gave him longer glances. Girls, mostly. One or two guys. No one said anything directly, but he could feel the shift. Maybe it was the touch of highlighter Demi had taught him to blend in, or the way his brows were now cleanly plucked into a gentle curve. He still wore the same jeans and hoodie, but something was... different. Lighter. Less hidden.

He caught himself checking his reflection more often -- not to admire, but to confirm that he was still him. Or maybe becoming someone closer to who he really was.

Weirdly enough, now that chastity was coming, every time he felt his "micro-penis" stand to attention, even if he was now fully aware that there was no chance anyone noticed, he felt guilty and inadequate. Like secretly breaking the law. A natural law.

--

The afternoon before the parcel was supposed to arrive, Tim found himself wandering the far end of the quad. There, leaning against a tall chestnut with a book in hand, was Zack -- earbuds dangling, sleeves pushed up. He looked up and grinned when he spotted Tim.

"Yo, looking sharp," he said, closing the book. "You've got a glow."

Tim flushed. "It's nothing. Just... been trying some stuff. Demi's helping."

Zack nodded. "Yeah, I can tell. You're kinda... blooming. Looks good on you."

Tim smiled shyly and sat beside him. "Thanks."

They talked for a bit about a lecture, a few shared frustrations about upcoming assignments. But it didn't take long before the conversation steered -- as it always seemed to lately -- to deeper -- darker -- things.

Zack leaned back on his elbows. "You've been thinking more about... all that stuff? Roles? Submission?"

Tim hesitated. "I guess."

"Damn, boi. Is this lipgloss you're using? That would get you sucking Big Black Cock soon, bitch!" He joked. Tim laughed sheepishly at the idea, but he went silent instead of going on with that favorite topic of them.

Zack looked at him sidelong. "You've got that distracted look I know too well. You're holding onto something, aren't you?"

Tim bit his lip. For a second, he thought about dodging. Saying "Nah," or making a joke. But something in Zack's expression -- open, gentle, knowing -- made it feel safe.

"I am," he said. "It's... a device. Like yours."

Zack's smile widened. "No way. Seriously?"

Tim nodded slowly. "Demi ordered it. Said she'd help. I'm... kind of terrified."

"That's normal," Zack said, voice soft. "But it's also kind of amazing, isn't it? You'll never forget the day it goes on."

Tim's heart thudded in his chest.

"I keep wondering what it'll feel like," he admitted. "What I'll feel like."

Zack turned toward him more directly. "Free and Locked. Exposed. And yeah, turned on in a way that's not about taking. It's about being a true gooner whiteboi"

Tim swallowed. "You think that's what I am?"

Zack smiled. "I think you're finding out. And from where I'm sitting? You're doing it beautifully. Are you watching BBC porn?"

"Every. Single. Day." confessed Tim, shrugging. "I can seem to stop. Most time I hide under the blankets and watch it on my phone on mute while I hear Sidney and his girls."

"Uh, boi. That's so cool. My own sound score is not so good. All-night entertainment, ain't it?" Zack day-dreamed.

"It should be. But I usually blow like, five minutes into the thing. At least I can sleep after I clean my mess." Tim whispered, defeated.

"That's what's this is all about." sentenced Zack, pointing a finger to his crotch.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the sun dipping behind the library's brick tower. In Tim's chest, the nerves hadn't vanished -- but they were mixed now with a growing sense of anticipation.

Tomorrow. Everything changed tomorrow.

The Package

Demi knew what the box was the moment she saw it. Small, discreet, nestled inside the mailbox with her name written on top -- a name she'd used for deliveries Tim didn't feel ready to receive himself.

She smiled as she turned it over in her hands. Pink plastic shell, ultra-compact size, adjustable ring, soft locking mechanism... All the specs were running through her head as she headed to Tim's room. She'd done her homework -- forums, reviews, testimonials -- all to be ready for this moment.

When Tim opened the door, his eyes went wide the moment he saw the box.

"You ready, white boi?" she asked, lifting it slightly.

He hesitated, but nodded. "Yeah. I mean... I think so."

She stepped inside, placing the box gently on the bed. Tim sat across from it, staring like it might whisper secrets if he looked long enough.

"Want me to open it with you?"

He nodded again.

She sliced through the tape with her key. The pink plastic shimmered softly as she lifted the pieces from the packing foam. It was smaller than she'd remembered from the site -- really small -- and for a second, she paused, makine efforts to contain a laugh.

He's going to fit this. Easily.

She didn't say that. It wasn't necessary. She simply handed it to him gently and said, "This one's made to feel snug and light. Meant to keep your minuscule bits in place, without hurting you. You'll get used to the feel fast."

He held it carefully, like it might break -- or bite.

Demi smiled mischievously and nudged the ring base closer. "Want me to help?"

Tim looked up at her, eyes a little glassy. He was blushing, but not pulling away.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Please."

"Good boi" Demi moved closer, careful, slow -- like she was escorting him through a gate he wasn't quite ready to cross alone.

A Quiet Click

Holding it felt unreal. The color -- pink, soft and smooth -- wasn't something he would've ever imagined owning, let alone wearing. It was the color of things delicate and pretty, of softness and submission, of belonging to a Bigger, Darker Power.

It looked tiny.

He gulped. Was he really... small enough? What if he wasn't? What if he was?

As Demi sat beside him and helped slide the ring into place, Tim's heart was pounding. Every touch of her hand felt commanding and loaded with meaning. She wasn't mocking him. She wasn't judging. She was constraining him -- taking control as he willingly yielded it.

She put the ring under his balls, and pinched them down and through. Then use the tip of her index finger to push the shaft inside, also, and then pulled out until the ring rested on his pelvis, circling the remnants of his male genitalia.

He flinched slightly as the cage covered his dick and got locked over it, the last piece clicking gently into place.

Demi pushed a tiny metal tube at the tip of the key. It disappeared inside an opening traversing and connecting the top of the ring with the top of the cage. She turned the key and pulled it out, leaving the padlock tube inside. And then it was done.

He was caged.

There was a rush of emotion -- part thrill, part fear, part shame, and something else he couldn't quite name.

"It looks so cute on you!" Demi giggled, proud of her work. "So symbolic when you think about a Real Man's Big, Black, Juicy Cock!" she commented lewdly, expertly activating the white boi's fantasies.

A warmth that spread from Tim's chest downward. His instincts kicked in -- he wanted to grow hard -- but the plastic said no.

He couldn't.

His dick just slightly engorged, but it didn't filled the whole cage. That tiniest pink cage was actually more than enough to contain him.

Demi kept teasing him, telling him about how the whole cage was about the size of Sidney's cock head. And then she dreamily started describing how yummy that cock head was. How good it felt when he sucked him and that soft head bumped on her throat, overpowering her...

Tim panted, super horny, but unable to do anything about it.

Demi pushed her pinky trough the small slit on the font of the cage. "There is still room here! I'm sorry to say this, but most white bois like you are so pathetic! You really belong in these things."

And instead of angry or sad, Tim felt... quiet.

Exposed. Contained. Controlled.

And it felt right.

He looked up at Demi, his face flushed, eyes glistening.

"I feel... different," he said, barely above a whisper.

She gave his shoulder a soft squeeze and smiled. "You are different, Tiny Timmy. You're becoming the perfect sissy white boi. And what you have inside that is definitely a clit now."

His heart fluttered at the sound of that word. It didn't sound mocking from her. It sounded appropriate. Like it belonged to this new version of himself.

And then he knew. He didn't want to take it off.

Caught Off Guard

Sidney pushed the door open with his usual swagger, earbuds still in and bass thumping. He didn't knock -- never had. Why would he? It was his room.

He stepped in, half-scrolling through his phone, when something tugged at the edge of his vision. A figure, mid-motion. A flash of pink. A curve where there wasn't supposed to be one.

And then he froze.

Tim was across the room, scrambling to pull on shorts over what Sidney had definitely just seen -- a glimmer of pale thighs, soft skin, and unmistakably... pink plastic.

Sidney blinked. "Whoa. Whoa!"

Tim had backed into the corner near his bed, face flushed deep crimson, half-dressed, hands fidgeting. Demi, who was perched casually on Tim's desk, stood slowly -- her expression hardening like steel.

"Seriously, Sid?" she said, voice sharp. "You ever think of knocking?"

"I--" he started, hands up, suddenly aware of the weight of the moment. "I didn't know-- I wasn't--"

"You stormed in here without warning, like always," Demi snapped. "But maybe it's time you think before barging into someone's privacy."

Sidney took a deep breath. He wasn't used to Demi coming at him like this -- not with fire in her voice, not with that protective energy swirling off her like a storm.

He looked at Tim again -- smaller than he remembered, wrapped in softness, trying not to look at anyone. As usual, Tim held himself like the vulnerable creature he was. Clearly he wasn't even sure he was allowed to stand there.

Sidney exhaled slowly. With his natural swagger, he stood beside Demi and placed a hand on her ass, and her instincts made her straighten her spine, popping her bum into the black hand, even as he looked at his dark face with a hostile gesture.

"... I'm sorry, man... or... whatever." he said, looking directly at Tim. "Really. That wasn't cool. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Tim didn't answer, but he didn't bolt either.

"I don't get it," Sidney admitted. "Like... I really don't. But I can see it's serious. And if Demi's with you on it, I know it's not some phase or whatever. I know you whiteys are like that sometimes. I'm just not familiar with the whole..."

There was a long silence. Demi's glare softened slightly, and Sidney's hand fondled her ass, helping her relax.

"I guess I just wanna say... I respect your choice, bro. You don't be a weirdo with me, I'll try not to be a jerk with you. Ok?"

Tim glanced up at him for a second, eyes wide, and nodded almost imperceptibly. Demi stepped closer and placed a hand on Tim's back, grounding him, easing the tension in his shoulders.

Sidney didn't know exactly what this new version of their roommate dynamic was going to look like.

But maybe -- just maybe -- it could be funny somehow.

Through the Curtain

Sid pulled the curtain shut behind him, the soft swish suddenly feeling a lot heavier than usual. Demi followed, arms crossed and face calm -- but serious. On the other side, Tim was silent. Sid could still hear him moving a little, probably sitting down, probably still shaken.

"Okay," Sid said, exhaling hard. "Talk to me."

Demi leaned against the wall. "He's... adapting. Accepting his shortcomings. Figuring out who he is. And it's not someone like you." She chuckled, rubbing a hand on his biceps.

"Clearly," Sid muttered, grabbing her bottom with both hands and crushing her against him. "But what does that mean, though? I figured he is a faggot, right? But that thingy?"

"It's not about that... maybe" she said. "It's about how he feels about himself. Gay or not, Tim realized he doesn't fits the way he was trying to live before. Most white guys nowadays don't see themselves able to competes for girls. They don't have a chance against you." She explained seductively grasping the bulge on his pants.

Sid sneered. "I guess most of them just give up and take dick. Ain't that easy?"

Demi's voice softened. "Is not giving up. He's letting go. He knows he won't probably experience sex the way his Daddy expected him too. Hell! He has no chance. So, he's looking for something that feels right. That's what the cage is for -- as he can't use it, he's locking it."

With a devilish smile, she pulled up the chain from his neck, showing him the small key hanging there. "Actually, I'm the one locking it."

Sid looked down, jaw tight, slowly shaking his head. "Damn, woman. You are fierce. I feel sorry for the needy white boi."

He leaned against the wall next to her, serious now, thinking back over the semester -- all those nights he'd brought girls over, curtains drawn, never even wondering about Tim. Not really. He'd assumed the guy was asleep. Or out. Or... whatever. Not listening. Not hurting.

"How many times did he hear me with someone?" Sid asked quietly.

Demi gave him a long look. "Probably more than you can count. Masturbating his mini-peenie under the cover while you were going at it." She said with her hand inside his pants, feeling his cock grow hard while he kept his cool, as usual.

Sid shook his head. "I didn't know it was like that for him."

"You didn't ask."

He winced a little. "Fair."

There was a pause. Demi's voice was careful next. "He never said anything. But I know it affected him. I think hearing you... being that confident, that wanted... it messed with him."

She had pulled out his black cock out and was admiring it, moving her small hands up and down. She felt wet while trying to stay on topic.

"Not sure if he's jealous of the girls. But he idolizes you. That strength. That presence."

Sid didn't say anything at first. Just stared at the curtain between them, while Demi stated kissing the tip of his cock.

"And now?" he finally said.

"He's trying to find his identity. Hmmm." Demi said while tonguing his shaft. " I think... part of that is not hiding from what makes him feel small." She engulfed the whole tip, relishing in the soft texture over the hard core.

"If he only could see..." she said, a thread of saliva stretching from her lip to the slit of his cock head.

Sid look down at her. "So what, you're saying he needs to... what? Watch us?"

Demi raised her eyebrows, still jerking him. "No. Not exactly. I'm saying maybe you stop pretending he doesn't look at you. Maybe you acknowledge him. Be real about how different you two are. Let him feel the power in that."

Sid let that sit. The idea made his stomach twist -- not in disgust, but in discomfort. Not because of Tim. But because of what it said about himself. How many things he'd never thought about.

He nodded slowly, pushing her head down on his hard cock. "Alright. I don't get all of it. But I'd do right by the poor guy if you keep milking me that good."

Demi smiled around the warm hard straining her lips.

Behind the Curtain

With the turmoil of emotions of getting locked, exposed, confronted, and then overhearing parts of the conversation behind the curtain, when the talk turned into the familiar erotic noises, Tim felt it was too much to bear.

The tightness on his cage, while far from hurt, made him afraid of staying silent on his bed like so many times before. Drats! He won't be even be able to jerk off. He wasn't ready to do that.

Instead, he quietly dressed and left for an evening lecture, head down, hoodie up, still feeling the lingering warmth of that fragile support from Demi -- and Sid? For a moment, when he suddenly entered, he scared shit, afraid of been beaten to pulp. When Sid calmed down and seemed to accept him, it felt good. A strange sort of strength.

By the time he returned, the dorm was quiet under the late-night hum of the hallway lights. He opened the door softly and stepped inside.

And froze.

The room wasn't empty.

The curtain was drawn, and the sounds behind it were unmistakable -- muffled breaths, the creak of the bed frame, and Sid's low voice, mixed with Demi's quieter gasps and laughter.

They were still going at it! Or maybe they were on a second round?

Feeling his junk engorge into the cage, it felt like his first time again. A different version of hearing others have sex like he would never.

He undressed and turned to his bed, unsure about what the cage would feel lying there-- but the curtain suddenly moved.

Demi's face appeared in the gap, soft and flushed, her eyes catching his in the dim light. She didn't say a word. Just looked at him -- really looked at him -- with no shame, no apology.

Then, with a small, tired smile, she let the curtain fall open wider, and turned away, crawling back into Sidney's arms.

Tim stood frozen in place.

For a moment, the room was suspended in silence -- or at least, silence for him. The space around him seemed thinner, the world behind the curtain louder.

He could see them now -- lights were faint, but enough. Their shapes, their connection. Their complete comfort in themselves. And Sidney's enormous dark cock pumping inside her, clearly stretching her, passionately fulfilling her desires.

He felt something tighten in his chest. Tighter than the cage. Not jealousy. Not exactly.

Longing.

He watched, heart thudding softly, as Demi curled closer to Sidney, his strong arm wrapping around her, his big hands obscenely grabbing her perfect buttocks; the kind of touch Tim had never known, maybe never would. And yet, something about being allowed to see it -- not as a mistake or humiliation, but as a kind of truth -- made his breath catch.

He kept getting close, tentatively, weighing the scope of Demi's invitation. But nothing stopped, and in a few minutes he was a few inches. Marvelled.

Wetness inside his cage started to accumulate from the tip of his trapped dick. His smallish, pale frame stood there, naked but for the plastic cap. He kept looking.

As Demi rode Sid, Tim could see the soaking lips of her pussy hugging his massive cock up and down, the moisture highligting the thick veins in the dim light.

Tim felt a long and thin string of clear fluid dribble from his cage.

Demi looked at him and gently smiled, but her attention quickly went back to riding Sidney. His roommate, instead, looked at him frequently. Somehow serious, slowly adjusting to having an audience.

Increasingly loud moans from Demi, culminating on a sudden whole-body spasm shooking her drove her to slow in post-orgasmic bliss. She left herself fall over him, kissing him hungrily. "You rocked me again, killer," She said with radiant satisfaction.

She looked back at Tim, disdainfully. "You like watching an Alpha Man up close, sissy?"

He felt he wasn't invisible. Not anymore.

Slightly trembling, he nodded.

Demi raised one leg, plopping as her pussy released the black cock. Then she slided back over Sid's body, stopping between his toned legs. He grabbed his still rock-hard cock, and started jerking the dark skin up and down. "Ain't impressive?" He teased him.

Tim nodded again, hypnotized.

"See? The typical white boi," She said to Sid with scorn in her tired voice. "Look how leaks his feeble precum!"

"Yeah. I see now. These guys have no sex at all?" he boomed in his low tone.

"This is whiteboi sex!" she giggled. "Are you enjoy yourself, sweety?"

Tim nodded a bit too enthusiastically.

Sid sneered. "This is unbelievable. I'm feel sorry for you, bro. But you can keep watching as far as you stay that distance."

"Now let's the boi compare his sticky drip with an actual load." Demi announced just before filling her mouth with black cock, starting to milk it with frenzy.

Tim gulped down and bit the side of his lower lip. His cage radiated a warm quaking sensation as he watched his dear Demi choke as Sid forced her head down. She seemed to be suffocating, but every time Sid released pressure and let her breath, she quickly got back to devour that pole with a vengeance.

Leaked increased as tim witnessed that miracle, as long minutes went by, his admiration for Sid's stamina skyrocketed. He knew he last that long, but seeing how strongly she was suckling on him, it seemed Mission Imposible.

With a deranged expression between exhaustion and hunger, Demi begged Sid to cum for her. "Please, cum in my mouth and show our tiny sissy toy!".

Sid chuckled at the request, and closing his eyes, let her jerk his cock fast and steady, holding the tip right on her open lips.

The black stud inhaled deeply, howled, and his cock started shooting thick shots of dark white cream. She managed to get most went into her anxious mouth, but some forceful ropes blasted her face.

Tim moaned and felt more of his weak juice drip. He lost count of how many blasts he shooted! He never knew, because before it stopped cumming Demi gollbed his cock again, milking him dry, clearly swallowing. Fascinated.

When the soft rhythm of the feeding finally stilled, Tim stood in silence for a long moment. The room felt suspended in warmth and breathing.

Demi squeezed the last drops, turned to Tim, and licking her lips like a kitten, she winked at him. Then she lazily crawled up to nestle in Sid's arms. He seemed dozing off already.

Tim walked away, reached for the curtain and, with quiet care, pulled it closed again -- returning a sense of privacy to the two sleeping bodies beyond it.

Then he padded across the room to his own bed. He was horny... but satisfied.

He just felt... priviledged. They had invited him. Had fun with him. Not humiliating him. Telling the truth. Giving him the space where he belonged.

He cleaned his precum with tissue paper and got in bed, naked.

It took time for the blue ball sensation to soften. But he was still full.

Full of a hundred questions he didn't know how to ask.

Dreams

Sleep came to Tim like fog, drifting slow and strange.

In his dream, he was standing on a shoreline -- not sand, but something like glass, smooth and endless. A giant dark figure moved across the horizon, not threatening, just immense. He could hear whispers in the wind -- voices he knew, laughing gently, speaking his name. Not "Tim." "Timmy."

The wind was thicker than simple air, a viscous fluid, sticky and whitish-gray, smelling musky and alkaline. Its warmth and weird odor aroused him.

He looked down. His reflection wasn't his -- not quite. Softer face, lighter body, something about the way he stood felt... different. Barefoot and still, wearing black silk that shimmered like memory. He didn't speak. He just listened. To waves. To laughter. To footsteps behind the curtain of the sea.

When he woke, his eyes were wet, same as his panties. But he felt calm.

A Gesture of Gratitude

The morning light was barely gold when Tim slipped out of bed. He moved quietly, not wanting to wake them. He gathered some simple things -- oatmeal, fruit, gound coffee. The kitchenette was small and mostly unused, but he worked with what he had.

By the time the curtain rustled and Sidney's sleepy voice mumbled a "Yo," the room smelled warm and sweet. Demi peeked out, eyes wide in surprise.

"You... made breakfast?" she asked, touched.

Tim nodded, a little shy. "Just... to say thanks."

Sidney blinked, then looked at the steaming mug in front of him. He didn't know what to say at first -- the guy who usually avoided interacting with him was suddenly making breakfast like a grateful little host.

"... That's real cool of you, man," he said, voice low and sincere. "You didn't have to do all that."

Tim just smiled. "I wanted to."

"Our own little sissy maid!" Giggled Demi, plunging onto Sid's lap at the small foldable table. He chuckled, looking Tim's face looking down and smiling. Shy and proud.

A Conversation with Zack

That afternoon, classes felt like background noise. His body was present, his notes half-done, but his mind kept returning to the feeling of participating in sex -- albeit in the most unexpected way.

The memories of what he had seen provoked a teasing sensation on his cage, so he tried to avoid them all day long, with little success.

As soon as he had the chance, he found Zack near the library.

"Hey," Tim started, awkward but urgent. "You got a second?"

They walked together to a quiet bench under a roof of tree branches, the late sun casting soft shadows through the budding spring leaves.

Zack tilted his head, studying him. "You look... different. Like, jittery?"

Tim gave a soft laugh. "Maybe. A lot happened. I, uh... told them. Demi and Sid. About everything."

Zack blinked. "Everything everything?"

"Yeah. And... they didn't freak out. It was weird. They were... cool with it."

Zack smiled, almost proud. "Told you. People surprise you."

They sat in silence for a moment before Tim added, "I watched them. Last night."

Zack raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.

"They let me. It wasn't, like, a thing. I just... was there. And for once, the humiliating differences... even some of their mocking... it didn't feel wrong. It felt like I belonged. Not like them. But... near them."

Zack nodded slowly. "That's big, man."

"Ohhh! You can't imagine how big!" Tim laughed, blushing at the indiscreet joke.

Zack laughed too, and involuntarily licked his lips, his eyes sparkling. Tim nodded, smiling.

"You, lucky bastard!" said Zack weakly punching his shoulder. "I'd kill for a close-up of that BBC!" He whispered. They giggled together.

Tim looked down. "The thing is: I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. The cage. The feeling of being smaller, weaker. Just... lesser."

Zack smiled faintly. "Like finding a place that fits you better. Submitting."

"Exactly."

They sat in silence a bit longer, the breeze soft between them. Then Zack said, "It's not always easy. Accepting we are inferior. But it's real. And real matters more than easy."

Tim nodded, a strange comfort settling in his chest.

He was still figuring it out. But he wasn't alone.

Zack reclined over Tim's side and spoke to his ear: "Boi, just imagining that black cock inside Demi makes my cage feel so tight!" and they giggled again. Tim told him he felt like that all day, and how his panties were a wet mess. They kept laughing and sharing his obsession with black guys for a while, now with that lighter, funnier tone.

Evening Light

The campus library had always been a quiet sanctuary for Tim. But that evening, the silence felt different -- warmer. Comforting. As he stepped into the reading room, he spotted Demi at the far end of a long oak table, a soft pool of lamplight glowing around her. Her hair was tied back in a lazy bun, glasses perched on her nose. She didn't look up right away.

"Hey," he said softly, sliding into the seat beside her.

Demi looked over, offered a quick smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hey, Tim. Thanks for coming."

"You okay?"

She hesitated. "Sid's... with someone else tonight."

Tim's face tensed, unsure what to say. But Demi beat him to it.

"I knew what this was," she said, eyes back on her notes. "It's open. That was the deal. Still stings sometimes."

There was a beat of silence.

"My pussy is still kinda sore anyway." She giggled, and Tim close his eyes and moaned, recalling how hard and deep she had got it inside. She smiled at his needy whiteboi reaction.

"Stay?" she asked, glancing sideways at him. "Just hang out here a bit?"

"Yeah," Tim nodded. "Of course."

She shut her notebook gently and turned to face him more directly. "But let's not talk about that. I want to know how you are. How was your day?"

Tim smiled faintly. "Actually... Kinda hard. Kinda amazing."

"Oh?"

"I talked to Zack again. Told him everything. About the cage. About Sid and you, and me. About... my place."

Demi's expression softened, her posture easing into something else. Involved.

"And?"

"He was cool with it. Like, really cool. Excited. It was weird, I felt seen. Not judged."

"That's not weird, Tim. That's beautiful. Delicate whitebois like you should bond, and support each other."

He shrugged, eyes dropping. "Yeah. I guess it just felt good to know I'm not the only one. He's on a similar path. Wearing a cage, actually. Guided by a friend -- like you are with me. You know he planted the idea."

Demi rested her chin in her hand, watching him.

"I think it's brave. Both of you." She smiled, somehow proud of him.

Tim looked at her, surprised. "You do?"

"Yeah. You're leaning into what's real for you. Most people go their whole lives pretending to be something they're not just to avoid the discomfort. But you? You're becoming something honest."

He swallowed, his voice quieter. "Even if that something is... on a lower level?"

She smiled. "Tim, you were always less than black men in most ways. That's never been a bad thing. But now, you're owning it. That's the difference."

"You know white people oppressed black folks for centuries. I honestly believe that a big part of that was fear at recognizing they are better. But look how things turn out. White masculinity -- when you peel away all that macho falsehood -- is increasingly weak and misguided.

Tim looked thoughtful, then asked, "Do you think... that's what attracted you to Sid? That he's the opposite of that?"

Demi paused. "Maybe. He's magnetic. Confident. Smoking hot. He fills space. But attraction isn't just about power. It's about contrast, too. Tension."

He nodded slowly. "So I'm the tension?"

She laughed, warm and honest. "Sometimes. You are lie the Yin/Yang. Pale/Dark. Locked limp/Throbbing HARD. Sterile/Potent. Minuscule/Massive."

"But you're also in the space between things. You notice what others don't. While we do, you listen and watch. You feel as an observer. That's rare, Tim."

He blinked, absorbing that.

"I think I used to think I was broken," he said. "Like I was built wrong, or didn't work the way I was supposed to."

"And now?"

"Now I think... maybe I was just meant to feel this way. Maybe it's not about fixing anything. Maybe it's about learning to live in my own skin. Not touching other's."

Demi reached across the table, gently touched his hand.

"You're not broken, sissy. You're becoming."

They sat like that for a while, the library around them fading into the background. Just two people figuring it out. Together.

Campus Paths

They walked side by side, the night quiet but not empty. The gentle hush of wind through trees, the faint hum of distant dorm laughter, the rhythmic crunch of gravel under their steps -- it all felt like a slow exhale. Tim and Demi didn't say much at first. Just held hands and let the silence carry them.

Tim glanced sideways at her hand in his -- soft, warm, and real -- and then said, almost in a whisper, "You know what's weird?"

Demi looked over, waiting.

"I think... this is the first time I've felt comfortable holding a girl's hand."

She didn't speak right away, just gave his fingers a little squeeze.

"I guess it's because... now there's no pressure. No pretending," Tim continued, his gaze distant. "You don't expect anything from me that I can't give."

Demi smiled gently. "And what can you give, Tim?"

He looked thoughtful. "I think I can be... honest. Open. Kind."

"You've always been those things."

He shrugged. "But I used to hide them. Thought I had to be something else. Something stronger. Louder."

"Like Sid? Like a Real Man?"

Tim winced slightly but didn't deny it.

Demi turned her head toward him. "Can I ask you something, sissy boi?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever actually been attracted to a girl?"

He frowned, slowed his pace a bit. "I thought I had. I thought... maybe Demi -- you -- but now I realize I was just drawn to you. Like... emotionally. Not like... that."

She tilted her head. "And guys?"

He hesitated.

She pressed gently, "Any attraction at all? I've see looking at cock..."

"... Maybe."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, curious.

"I mean, when I see Sid..." Tim paused, then shook his head. "I feel something. But it's all tangled up in jealousy, admiration, shame. I can't imagine anything actually working. I've always been invisible to someone like him."

Demi gave a soft chuckle. "Well, first of all, not every man is Sid."

Tim blinked. "I know, I guess--"

"And second, you don't have to figure it all out tonight. Attraction isn't always clean or easy to name. But you feel something. That's a start."

Tim took a breath, shoulders relaxing a little.

"I guess I just worry it's all... one-sided. Or that people will laugh."

"They might," she said gently. "But some won't. Some will see you -- and like you -- for who you are. And I can help. If you want."

Tim looked over at her. "Help me how?"

She shrugged with a little smirk. "I know people. People who like softness. People who want honesty more than bravado. Guys who would be lucky to meet a pretty prissy thing like you."

His face flushed, and his voice dropped. "I don't even know what I'd say."

"You don't need to say much, Timmy. Just be you."

They stopped near the edge of the quad, under a tall, leafless tree whose bare branches traced itrincate shapes into the sky.

Tim looked up, letting the cold air fill his lungs. "Well. I used to hate how small I felt. Maybe because I though women liked big."

Demi leaned her head on his shoulder. "And now?"

"... Now I think small might be beautiful... to some men?"

She smiled. "Yeah. It really can. Nice and small." She tapped a knuckle to the cage inside his pants, making it sound. They both laughed, and Tim's eyes got teary. He hugged her tightly and said, "Thank you".

They stayed like that for a long moment, letting the night settle around them like a quiet truth.

Alone

The dorm room was quiet in a way it rarely was. No music, no Sidney, no soft humming of Demi's voice as she tapped on her phone. Just the rustle of pages from a closed notebook, the faint buzz of the overhead light, and the occasional sound of someone laughing in the hallway beyond.

Tim sat cross-legged on his bed, camisole sleeves pulled down over his hands. His skin was still smooth from Demi's latest skincare suggestions, and he could feel the faint, familiar pressure of the pink plastic cage beneath his soft leggings. The sensation wasn't exactly natural, but it felt right -- or at least, it felt like something that made sense in a way that few things had before. And after a few days, he was quite comfortable on it.

He glanced at Sidney's side of the room. Bed a mess. A hoodie half-off the desk chair. A pair of sneakers tossed aside carelessly. He smiled a little. Sid had stormed out earlier in a hurry -- something about meeting "Marla or Carla or whatever her name is." -- but not before offering a half-sincere, half-playful "Later, Timmy" as he pulled the door shut behind him.

Sidney had changed. Or maybe just... relaxed about him. The way he'd looked at Tim recently wasn't full of confusion or aversion like before. More like curiosity. Maybe even amusement. That was unexpected. And it meant more than Tim could say -- because no matter how different they were, Sid mattered to him. Not in the way Tim had once thought he needed to be -- not as a role model or a rival -- but as a presence. Loud, masculine, magnetic... and oddly comforting.

Now that he was being honest with himself, he can even accept Sid made him feel horny. He had come to understand why all the girls drooled around him and ended up in his bed. He was incredibly sexy. His whole body, with perfectly chiseled muscles bound in his flawless dark skin, his booming voice... and his magnificent cock. The feminine side of Tim that was finally crawling out tossed away the idea he had any kind of jealousy about that cock. He had realized he liked having a tiny dick, and having it locked. What happened with that Big Black Cock -- and BBCs in general -- is that drove him horny as hell.

And the images of BBC in his mind's eye made him think of his friend Zack.

Zack was such a different kind of presence. He laughed, imagining him naked beside Sid. The same way that Demi laughed seeing Tim beside her black fuck buddy. There was something funny about white bois near Black Men. He could appreciate it now. There was no more humiliation. It was almost exhilarating.

Zack was quiet but steady. He was the only one who had really gotten it right away -- not just the surface stuff, but the inner sissy trying to blossom. Zack had that same ache, that same hunger to submit to higher powers.

They might explore different approaches, but converged in others. Like the chastity thing... Tim still wasn't sure how to feel about that, but knowing Zack was there first, walking a similar path, made it easier. Made it less scary.

He felt somehow proud and guilty at the same time, as Zack coped with his obsession by gooning to BBC porn, while Tim had the priviledge now to watch Demi and Sid in person, mere inches away. Watching, hearing, smelling them. He only couldn't touch, and this was something he didn't feel he deserve, in any case.

Demi. His thought turned to her.

Tim's fingers curled tighter around his sleeves. She had become the center of his world in ways he hadn't expected. Not romantically -- at least not in the way people usually meant it. But she enabled him. She asked the hard questions. She didn't flinch when he stammered. She made him being small feel okay.

And she convinced Sid to let him watch. To get close and admire his immense, hard, dark cock, admiring how it plowed into her mouth or her pussy. Moist and inviting. The ultimate evidence of his own inferior whiteboi rank.

But Demi was also helping find an attitude to that rank. A healthier, softer, girlier path.

She put eyeliner on him like it was an act of reverence. She made him care about of his skin and hair. Lately pushed him to dress more properly with his un-manly profile.

She looked at him with tenderness and commanded him around, pushing him to accept his place without fumbling around or search for denial excuses.

Sometimes he swore there was something protective in her gaze -- like she was sheltering something delicate, not because it was fragile, but because it was precious, but also because it was her creation. She was slowly sculpting something better from the old-Tim substandard material she had gotten.

Tim let out a breath, lying back on the bed, eyes tracing the uneven bumps on the ceiling. So much had changed. So quickly. The cage. The makeup. The voice in his head that used to scream at him to "man up" had gone quieter lately -- not gone, but not as loud. It was being replaced with something softer. A whisper instead of a bark. "Sissy down?" he silently sneered.

But there were still questions. What would other people think? What if someone saw him like this and didn't respond with kindness? And more than that -- what did he want now?

Was it enough just to belong, to be seen, to be held -- platonically or otherwise?

What would it mean to stay like this -- soft, tucked away, watching?

And how would Sidney fit into all that?

Watching him fucking was better than any of his previous sex fantasies. As Demi told him, "whiteboi sex" seemed great so far, and he was looking forward for more.

But...

Did he want to date someone? A boy, maybe? Someone like Zack? No, they might have some fun together, for sure, but this was far from his longing.

He rolled onto his side and stared at the half-drawn curtain, the one that used to separate him from a world of pleasure and noise and strength he'd never thought to be part of. Now, it felt like something else -- a veil he had stepped through. Or maybe it had been lifted.

Tim closed his eyes, listening to the silence around him. It wasn't empty. It was full of possibility.

He wasn't finished becoming whatever he was meant to be. But for the first time, he didn't feel lost.

Just... in motion.

Days in Bloom

Tim and Demi called it a truce, of sorts.

Not with words exactly, but with soft glances and short nods across textbooks and highlighters. Demi could see the overwhelmed look in Tim's eyes after everything -- the cage, the confrontation to Real Manhood, the sheer weight of so much change -- and she'd smiled in that knowing, almost motherly way of hers.

"Let's take a breath," she'd said, her fingers gently tapping the edge of his planner. "Midterms are coming."

So they settled into a rhythm.

Beside the nights Demi spent the night with Sidney -- and Tim, who was now the official happy spectator, they both spent a lot of non-Sidney time together.

Mornings filled with coffee and cramming at the campus café, afternoons holed up in the library with their laptops side-by-side, evenings sometimes ending with a face mask or a deep-conditioning treatment.

Demi didn't push, but she never stopped nudging, either -- and Tim was grateful for that.

He needed the pause. But he didn't want to go back.

And so the changes came slowly, like spring creeping into the corners of winter.

First it was the new shampoo -- something citrusy and floral that made his hair fall softer over his forehead. Then it was the BB cream that Demi dabbed along his jawline one afternoon between study sessions, explaining how it blurred imperfections without really looking like makeup.

"You don't need much," she said, examining him with the intensity of a sculptor. "You already have the shape most girls try to contour."

Tim flushed but said nothing. He didn't know if it was a compliment. But it felt like one.

Clothes came next, mostly because Demi had "accidentally" dropped a few suggestions while they scrolled online after a particularly long cram session. Soft knits, cropped hoodies, slim joggers that hung off his hips in a way he wasn't used to. Pieces that didn't scream feminine but whispered it with subtle confidence.

He tried one outfit out on a quiet Monday. Just to see. His fingers trembled a little as he slid the cropped top over his frame. But the reflection didn't mock him.

It looked... honest. Almost natural.

And then came the stares.

At first, they made his stomach tighten. Whispers at the edges of his hearing. Pauses in conversations. But they never lasted long. Most weren't even whispers -- just quiet, curious glances. And then the unexpected started to happen.

Compliments.

Girls approached him in the library or after class -- not with the awkward energy of someone trying to flirt, but with a kind of open admiration. Asking about his nails. His skin. His shoes. A brunette from philosophy class leaned over during a break and grinned, "You're pulling that off way better than I could."

Tim didn't know what to say. He mumbled thanks, trying not to smile too much.

It was easy to accept those moments. Warm, affirming, validating.

The other ones were harder.

He caught them sometimes -- the way a guy walking past him on the quad would look twice, his eyes flicking down and up again. The way someone at the dining hall line held his gaze a moment too long.

It was never too aggressive. But he received a few cat-callings as he passed by, at first from guys who usually didn't see his face.

At first, it made Tim want to disappear into his oversized sweater. He told himself he was imagining it. But he wasn't. And after the fourth or fifth time, something strange started to flicker under the anxiety -- not fear, not quite shame.

Something warmer. More electric.

With time, makeup and a better hairdo, guys started to whistle at him even seeing his face, taking him for a girl -- most surely.

He didn't know what to do with it, so he didn't do anything. Just walked a little slower sometimes. Kept his chin up. Let his hips sway more naturally in the jeans Demi insisted fit him "way too well to be hidden under a hoodie."

And always, Demi was there. Checking in. Noticing the subtle shifts. Letting him move at his own pace.

One night, while they lay on his bed with flashcards spread between them, Demi looked over and smiled.

"You seem lighter."

Tim blinked. "Lighter?"

She nodded. "Like... more you, I think."

He didn't answer. Just smiled quietly and leaned against her shoulder for a moment.

Shifting Seasons

The weeks passed like pages turning in a book that Tim was slowly learning how to read. There was a rhythm to everything now -- a softer, quieter rhythm than the one that had defined his first months at college.

Mornings were study sessions with Demi, coffee in hand and soft laughter under shared headphones. Afternoons often blended into dinners with both Demi and Sidney, whose presence had become surprisingly steady -- supportive, even if still sometimes aloof. Sid didn't always get what Tim was going through, but he no longer tried to. He just was there. That mattered more than words.

Having the whiteboi as an observer when he fucked Demi had become so natural that Sid started to leave the curtain open with some other girls, too. The ones that probably had accepted, because they didn't get surprised when Tim tentatively walked closer.

As Demi, the others had fun looking at the pale sissy leaking on his tiny cage, and they sometimes asked Tim for pillows, lube, water or anything they wanted from Sid's bed. They also played with him, tapping on his cage, or commanding him to plap his balls as he watched.

The first time Sid fucked a girl's asshole -- she begged him to do it! -- Tim's eyes almost popped out, and he came in his pink cage. It was far from a huge load, but was clearly more than his usual precum drips, and his moan and shake made the lovers look right at him, and had fun at his situation.

Later Sid told Demi about it, and she was tempted to try feeling him in her read end, and also potentially witnessing the sissy exploding. Which of course happened as expected. Even before Sid was fully inside her. Just seeing his best friend's anus being stretched by Sid's massive cockhead was enough for him to burst out.

Tim almost feinted, but once he recovered his breath and watched them again, Demi was getting half of Sid's 10-inch cock, moaning under her first stormy anal orgasm. The first of several that night. As many of Sid's girls, she discovered she loved anal.

When they spoke a few days ago, she confessed that she didn't imagine how good it would feel, and to Tim's flustered reaction, she pressed just slightly and the boi admitted how much it turned him on.

The next day Demi brought Tim another special gift.

A buttplug.

She took charge, fitted it in his rear, and sold him on using it frequently during the whole day, and as a pre-requisite when he watched her with Sid.

Confidants

Zack was changing, too.

Tim started to notice little things. Zack's hair had been styled differently one day, subtly gelled back with a slight wave. His nails -- clear-coated, maybe? And the jacket he wore was... different. Slimmer. A little bolder than usual. He caught Tim looking, smiled shyly, and said, "It's kind of freeing, huh?"

They didn't need to explain what it was. Tim smiled back, and in that small exchange, something deepened between them -- a wordless sense of shared understanding.

They talked about classes and people around college, and soon enough they were right into black guys territory. Tim confided about the latest addiction of him -- and Demi -- and Zack was thrilled.

"Boi, anal is the hottest thing! Most of my web search history surely includes the keywords [anal] and [bbc]." He agreed in how hot it was, and with his increasing level of mutual trust, he readily admitted. "I guess I love anal because it is the way in which we could eventually serve a Real Man. Hopefully. Some day?"

They both blushed, and then giggled.

Tim bit her lower lip, grabbed his friend arm and whispered in secret that we was wearing a buttplug. Zack eyebrows raised higher than ever, and he demanded to see it.

"Are you crazy?" Tim asked. "We would need privacy to..." And Zack grabbed his arm and started pulling him to his own dorm before Tim could finish... or complain.

When they arrived in Zack's room, he closed the door and bolted a lock -- something Sid didn't want to have at all.

For the first time, quite shyly, both friends undress in front of each other, getting to know their cages. Zack was quite bigger than Tim's, and black. After looking at them and exchanging details on how they felt, Zack asked to see the plug.

Overcoming his embarrassment, Tim turned around and bent to let him watch it. Zack loved it, and then he looked in a drawer and produced a lack dildo. This time Tim was the astounded one.

"It looks... big." He said, and quickly considered. "And it is about half of Sidney's".

Zack licked his lips at the reference. "This one feels so good... I just can't imagine..." And then he went on explaining how he used it alone, or how Tara used on him with a strap-on sometimes.

It was another huge discovery for Tim, and Zack told him that they might try playing together some time, but they would need a personal dildo each, because it could be unhealthy otherwise. Tim wasn't ready to do that, anyway.

But before leaving, he agree with Zack on considering getting his own, and keep him up-to-date on the development. Maybe some day...

Performers

Back in Sid's room -- Tim felt he was just a guess --, things had changed, but not entirely.

The curtain between Tim and Sidney's beds remained -- a simple fabric divider that had come to represent so much more. Nights still held their rituals. Soft sounds. Voices behind the fabric. New girls, always drawn to Sid's magnetism. Laughter. Moans. The occasional thud of a headboard or stifled giggles.

Curtain or on off -- just listening or watching closely -- it wasn't shame that crept into Tim's chest anymore.

Not entirely.

Not even when the girl on the other side was Demi.

She would catch his eye before signaling with the the curtain. A glance, a slight smile, full of unspoken permission. A gesture that said, It's okay if you stay. And he always did. And she would let the curtain open.

It wasn't easy. It wasn't comfortable. But it was real.

Sid was now accustomed to have Tim watching close, a girly figure naked around them, the telltale threads of slime stretching out the cage as he bite his lower lips, hypnotyzed by the sex among them.

The black stud even started to perform a bit for Tim. He had fun showing the whiteboi the way he forced his dark cock into girl's lips. Letting him get closer to see the spit dribbling around, hear their gaggling sounds as they choked on his manhood. Sometimes, when they released the cock to breath, seeminly seconds before suffocating, Sid make Tim ask the girls if they wanted more. They always nodded of screamed yes without hesitation, worshipping Sid.

Sid came to enjoy the miserable trickle of precum drooling from the pink cage at those moments. He and the girls frequently made fun of him, but Tim appreciated the worth of their deal. He provided fun, cleaning or water, but received the privilege of watching something that seemed impossible for him to have.

In particular, Tim's body convulsed, and sometimes climaxed when Sid showed him how his cock gaped the girls' asses. In the middle of hard assfucking, he sometimes pulled out and showed the boi the impact of his plowing, their anal rings dilated and sopping. Tim usually felt his own anus clenching into the buttplug that he wore most nights by then.

At some point in the night, Tim would go back to his bed, closing the curtain. He would lie still, heart fluttering with a cocktail of emotion he no longer feared to feel -- a pang of longing, yes, but not for what he used to think. The old ache of not being him -- not being Sid -- had changed. He didn't want to replace Sid in those moments anymore. He didn't want the girls to look at him like they looked at Sid.

He just wanted... what the girls were feeling. In his own way. In any way that felt true.

And when the curtain opened again in the morning, life continued. Breakfasts shared between yawns. Study guides exchanged. Sid always ruffling his hair now, or giving him an approving nod before heading out for class. Demi occasionally sliding a new lip gloss into his palm like it was a secret between them.

And all the while, something inside Tim had begun to shift. The old identity -- brittle, anxious, unsure -- had given way to something still unformed but steadier. A self that wasn't defined by who he wasn't... but by who he might become.

He no longer flinched at his reflection. In fact, he'd started taking longer looks -- sometimes even in public. Just to see what others might see. And the truth was, they did see him now. He was no longer invisible. And not for the reasons he used to crave -- not as some kind of man to be admired or feared. But as someone intriguing. Open. Different.

The ache in his chest had morphed into a yearning. Clearer now. No longer to be someone else, but to be something else. Something that still fit within his frame but felt bigger, more honest. To be with someone else.

And one night, walking back to the dorm with Demi, he finally said the words.

"I think I'm ready."

She stopped beside him, the wind tugging gently at her coat. "Ready for what, sweet thing?"

He looked at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever comes next. With... me."

Her smile was warm. Understanding. And underneath it, something proud.

"I'll hook you up with a wonderful black guy." she said. "With a big black dick, of course!".

Tim giggled with her, her pale face suddenly flushed red. His eyes sparkled.

A Few Weeks Later

Tim had grown more comfortable in his androgynous style. With Demi's patient help, he'd found a rhythm between coursework and quiet transformation. His delicate features were no longer something to hide, and his gentle demeanor had started drawing people in, rather than pushing them away. But something still lingered -- a quiet space inside that hadn't been filled -- truly. It had been filled by the buttplug first, and lately with his own black dildo, which Demi helped him buy.

And she had been watching carefully. One afternoon, after they'd finished studying together, she leaned in thoughtfully, feeling the "next phase" is somewhat stuck.

"You know, Tim," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "you've come such a long way. You seem girlier, lighter, more... you. But I'm curious -- have you thought more about what kind of people you're drawn to?"

Tim hesitated. He had met a few guys through her: black studs, solidly build, handsome -- and yet, nothing had sparked. He always ended up smiling politely and walking away with a hollow sense of almost.

"I don't know," he admitted. "They're hot. I like them. I even fantasize with them when playing with my toys. But it's like... they're not what I'm looking for. Or maybe I don't know what I'm looking for."

Demi studied him. "What about... Sidney?"

There was a pause. Tim's eyes flicked up to hers, unsure. The question made his heart flutter and sink at once.

"He's... confident," Tim said slowly. "Sure of who he is. Commanding but kind, in his own way. And I know how different we are, but... yeah. He kind of fits the idea I have in my head." He sighed. "But he's... Sid. That would never happen."

"I get it," Demi said gently. "But maybe it's not about Sid exactly. Maybe it's about what he represents to you. And maybe there's someone out there who gets that -- who has that energy but also likes you."

Tim tilted his head. "And with a cock like his?" Tim asked in a hush, shyly. "Someone like that exists?"

Demi smiled. "I think I know someone who might be close."

--

Tim wasn't sure what to expect when Demi mentioned -- again -- she might have "someone he should meet." She said it lightly, like it was no big deal, and maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just coffee with someone new. But it didn't feel like nothing. It felt like something was turning quietly inside him, like a door he hadn't noticed before was being nudged open. Between his increasingly plump buttocks.

They met on a Wednesday afternoon.

It was chilly but bright outside, the kind of crisp campus day that smelled like books and autumn leaves. Demi led Tim to the student union café with her usual ease, chatting about a class she was struggling with and poking fun at his too-serious face. He smiled nervously but stayed quiet, trying not to let his hands shake.

Isaiah was already there, seated near the window. Tall. Calm. His skin darker than Sid's made the white in his eyes and his smile pop bright and intense. He wore a soft gray hoodie and wire-rimmed glasses, and his smile when he saw Demi was easy, genuine. When Demi introduced them, Tim shook his large hand, surprised by the warmth in his strong grip and the kind, curious look in his eyes.

He felt a flutter in his stomach running down to a tingling inside the tiny cage hidden in his panties.

They sat, the three of them at first. Demi ordered hot chocolate for Tim without asking, just the way he liked it -- he felt her warmth teasing as he loudly pronounced that -- and left after a few minutes, saying she had "fake studying" to pretend to do.

So it was just Tim and Isaiah, and the silence came gently, not awkward, just... there. They talked.

It started with books -- they had both just finished the same short story in a literature class. Then music. Tim didn't expect Isaiah to like old shoegaze bands or have strong opinions about dream pop, but he did. And of course he liked the Hip Hop and Trap which Sid listened to, but he could explain to Tim its origins and connections, opening up to a potential better listening experience.

Then there was the movie conversation -- a shared love for non-ordinary action flicks with thick atmospheres, and strong female leads! From Matrix to the Underworld series. He even mentioned The Fifth Element, and told Tim he had kinda "Leelo" vibes, making him blush.

Tim appreciated that Isaiah didn't look at him the way others had lately. Not with confusion, not with curiosity. Just... normally. The fact he could nonchalantly compare him with a hot girl on a movie was somehow unexpected and truly appreciated.

That meant more than he could say.

They talked for almost two hours. No pressure. No strange energy. Just something soft and growing.

When Demi texted later that evening -- "So?? ????" -- Tim replied:

"He's really nice. Like, actually nice. I felt good."

"And he is really handsome ????"

A few minutes later, her response came:

"That's what I hoped you'd say. Let's see where it goes ❤️"

And Tim, lying on his bed later that night, couldn't help but smile. It wasn't electricity or a whirlwind. It was a steady, safe warmth. And for now, that was exactly enough.

He dreamed about him and whispered "Isaiah..." as he pumped his black dildo in his boi pussy, making his cage leak for about an hour until he fall asleep, spent and happy.

It wasn't a bolt of lightning

Not the kind of overwhelming crush that novels or movies promised. Instead, being with Isaiah felt like standing in a quiet clearing after a storm. The world was still wet, uncertain; but light was beginning to seep through the trees. Tim didn't fully understand it yet, but he noticed how being near Isaiah made it easier to breathe.

They crossed paths more often after that first café meeting. A lecture hall here, a casual gathering there. Once, they ended up side by side during a film screening for their cinema studies class. It was a slow, beautiful foreign film with long silences and characters that seemed to ache from the inside out. Isaiah didn't say much afterward, but his eyes were thoughtful as they walked side by side in the cold. That night, Tim caught himself wondering how Isaiah would describe him if he were a character in a story.

He started paying attention in new ways.

To the way Isaiah always held the door open without thinking, or how he leaned in slightly when Tim spoke -- not out of habit, but to really listen. And there was the way he never made Tim feel like he had to explain himself, even as his appearance slowly shifted and his voice grew softer. Isaiah didn't stare. He noticed -- but gently, respectfully.

He swiftly move from holding Tim's hand to grab his waist, and eventually his huge hand started to cup the whiteboi's butt.

That made Tim feel... something. Horny, yes. But also safe. Not as a joke, not as a curiosity. Just as Tim.

One afternoon, while walking back from class, Isaiah had offered him his hoodie because the wind had picked up suddenly. Tim had accepted it reluctantly, slipping into the oversized gray warmth. It smelled faintly of Isaiah's cologne -- cedar and something subtle -- and Tim had felt a strange twist in his stomach, not unpleasant.

And as Isaiah walked beside him in a t-shirt, he had the chance to closely appreciate his bulging biceps. The physical attraction was growing more intense. He had a hard time averting his gaze from Isaiah's crotch, but he had already confirmed it sported a considerable bulge.

When they arrived to Sid's (and Tim's) room, and find it empty, Tim couldn't resist anymore. He close the door and as they kissed, he started fondling Isaiah's growing erection.

Soon enough the black young man was seating on Tim's bed, his muscular legs open to make room for the whiteboi kneeling between them, greedily sucking his impressive cock.

Tim couldn't believe how big it was. It looked almost as long as Sid's but thicker, and he found out it tasted and felt even better than he had ever fantasized. It felt so utterly right to be on the floor, servicing him.

He had developed a sense of parity with Isaiah in some of their tastes and intellectual abilities, but he was fully aware -- now deeply and wetly aware -- of his physical superiority. And it was good and enjoyable to submit to his overpowering manliness.

Tim was really into it, but Isaiah, acknowledging his position of control, decided to be careful about the fragile whiteboi. When he was about to burst, he made him pull away, and let him jerk him until he shoot large ropes of cum over the boi's neck and t-shirt.

Although he felt a feverish need to eat his black friend's sperm, Tim hesitantly slipped a finger by his neck, scooping a bit, and tasted it. It was as tangy and viscous as he had imagined, and he realized it would be easy to become addicted to it.

Isaiah asked him to take it slowly. He carefully cleaned the boi a little, took his messed t-shirt off, and they kissed and made out for a few minutes before Isaiah's phone blipped, remembering he had a class he couldn't skip. After a last kiss to his pouty delicious dark lips, Tim finally let him go.

The boi closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Then he gathered the messed clothes, smelling the wet t-shirt. And he changed his panties, who were drenched with his clear precum. He smiled at the sight of his minuscule cage, so different from the black cock he had just worshipped. As different from his leaky precum was from the strong, bountiful semen of his new friend.

That night, in bed, he clutched the sleeves before drifting off to sleep, confused but comforted. Lucid dreaming about him, he sucked and gagged on his dildo. The cage felt tight and soon got wet with that stressing, weak emmission that always edged but never achieved release.

The questions started creeping in

Was he in love with Isaiah? Was this what love felt like -- this quiet pulse under his skin, this comfort paired with excitement? He had always assumed romance needed to be loud, overwhelming, dizzying. But this... this was different. Maybe just infatuation. That sounded wrong. But maybe better. Or at least more honest.

He remembered how it used to feel when he tried to imagine being with a girl -- like putting on shoes that didn't quite fit. Now, with Isaiah, he didn't need to imagine anything. It was just how things felt when they were together. Like walking in step with someone without trying.

His horny young mind quickly focused on his black cock, but when he calmed down, he knew it was more than the allure of his hot body.

Demi asked about him once, during one of their late-night study breaks.

"Do you like him?"

Tim hesitated. "I don't know," he whispered. "But I think I could. I want to keep figuring it out."

Looking at her with a mischief smile he confessed "I like his bulge! A LOT!"

She looked directly at him, raising eyebrows. "You, slut! Did you two... already?"

Tim laughed and shrugged. "I just had some... hands-on experience... and a taste."

She playfully punched his arm, hen hugged him. "I'm so happy for you, my little whiteboi! I know you are about to enter a very pleasurable phase of your life, believe me!"

They both giggled and hugged for a minute or two, and then resumed their chat in a different, deeper tone.

He hesitated, twisting the edge of his sleeve between his fingers.

"What if I mess this up with Isaiah? What if I try something and... he's not like that? What if he thinks I'm confused or worse--what if he gets offended and never talks to me again? I mean... a blowjob is one thing, but moving beyond that..."

The words tumbled out quicker than he meant. Demi blinked, then closed her notebook gently, giving him her full attention.

"You're worried he'd reject you," she said, softly.

There was a moment of quiet. Tim didn't cry, but there was a tremble in his throat. Demi reached across the table, fingers brushing his hand gently.

"Tim, listen to me. At this point you don't need to push for anything else. Just let him take care of the situation. As far as I've seen you two, I think he is very into you, and he would take that as far as he wants. Black guys -- even the nicer, sweeter ones like him -- don't hesitate too much."

He grabbed his tiny hands into hers. "You only worry about him wanting to go further than what YOU are ready to accept. Are you worried about him hurting or doing something bad to you?"

Tim promptly denied. "No, no. It is not like that. I... On the contrary. I want him to take me. I know it will not be easy... You know I'm just getting accustomed to my dildo, and he is SO much bigger!"

Demi smirked. "You lucky bastard!" Tim smiled as she continued. "I've watched the way he looks at you when you're talking. He wants to be there. And I caught him checking you from behind. He wants to be there, too, baby!"

Tim swallowed. "But... guys like him -- I don't know. He could have any girl he wants. I've seen how they fall to his feet. He doesn't look gay. Why would he want to be with me?"

Demi gave a small, knowing nod.

"Those are just silly labels, you know? And most girls feel that insecurity when they guys tehy like get closer. That's not your fault, Tim. That fear? That comes from a world that hasn't made space for softness between men. For complexity. But people like Isaiah... they make space. You don't need to fit a label right now, and neither does he."

Tim exhaled slowly, meeting her eyes.

"So... what do I do?"

She smiled warmly.

"You don't have to do anything. Not unless it feels right. There's no race here. He will make the first move. And if he doesn't, you'll still have someone who respects you. You're not alone."

That quieted the buzz in Tim's chest a little. He didn't feel ready to reach out, to test the boundary -- not yet. But maybe that was okay.

He looked out the window, where the sky was turning pink above the trees. "Thanks," he said, voice almost a whisper.

Demi squeezed his hand again.

"You're doing great, Timmy. Just keep opening up. And I mean in every way!" They both laughed, and Tim felt more relaxed.

The talk

It was late afternoon when Tim stepped out of the lecture hall, his bag slung over one shoulder and his crop hoodie sleeves tugged down to his wrists. The wind had a chill that hinted at fall, but the bare skin of his tummy felt oddly warm. Isaiah had texted him earlier -- "Are you free for the afternoon? Just us."

Now they stood together under one of the big oaks near the science building. Leaves rustled gently overhead. Tim looked up to Isaiah's dark face, smiling a couple feet from his'. Neither of them spoke right away.

Isaiah crouched a bit, grabbed the whiteboi's bubbly butt enclosed on his skinny jeans and lifted him up. Tim hanged from his massive neck and they kissed. The slender boi's feet dangled happily on the air.

"So..." Isaiah started, then let out a short breath and laughed under it. "I know your sweet lips love my dick. Are you ready to let me give you a good time?" He said in his soft, low voice, while his fat fingers delved between Tim's ass cheeks.

Tim gave a nervous smile. "I'm pretty sure I'm."

They embraced in a sweet, long kiss, and soon Tim started noticing something hard and inviting against him, and a droplet started creeping on his cage.

"I have to tell you something... before you see me naked." Tim uttered, suddenly ashamed.

"About your cage?" asked Isaiah, smiling while looking right into Tim's blue eyes.

Tim was shocked. "How do you...?"

"This is not my first rodeo with whitebois, baby. Although I never found such a sweet creature as you. And I felt that telltale hard little thing that where I know there should be something soft... and cute."

"You don't mind?" asked Tim tentatively.

"Not at all. I'm sure it looks cool on you. And I will let you decide if you want to keep using it. Whatever makes you feel good, my pet. Want to move to my place now?" He asked.

Tim nodded enthusiastically and felt great walking beside him back to his dorm, his black hand possesively placed on the boi's tight and waiting ass.

Through the Curtain (again)

The late spring sun filtered through the budding trees as Demi crossed the quad, a lightness in her step. She spotted them before they saw her -- Tim and Isaiah, walking side by side near the humanities building. They were talking, laughing at something she couldn't hear. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Tim reached up up up to kiss Isaiah, who gently held him by his ass.

She smiled to herself, heart swelling. They weren't hiding anymore. No more half-glances or nervous silences for Tim. Just quiet closeness, walked openly through campus like anyone else in the early glow of something new and real.

She didn't interrupt. She didn't need to.

They still texted often, still met up sometimes to study or grab lunch, but Demi knew when to step back and let things grow without her. Watching Tim from a distance now, she didn't feel excluded -- she felt proud. He looked girlier and sassy. And whole.

For the first time in weeks, she let herself retreat from her usual caretaker role and dove into exam prep with full focus. A week passed in a blur of caffeine and textbooks and library marathons, and when her last test ended, she practically floated out of the lecture hall.

She texted Sid: You home? I think it's your turn to take care of me.

--

Later that evening, she knocked on the door of the dorm room that had come to feel like a second home. Sid grinned as he let her in, already tossing a sarcastic line about how he missed her "bossy chaos." She rolled her eyes and flicked his arm, laughing.

They chatted, joked, let the tension ease back into familiarity. And eventually, with a low chuckle and a raised eyebrow, Sid reached behind him and drew the curtain closed.

Their side of the room dimmed as the divider slid shut.

In that softened space, they kissed. It wasn't rushed. It never was with Sid. It was easy, warm, laced with trust and the kind of comfort that grows slowly over time.

Her hands quickly went down and into his sweatpants. She needed that hard thing so bad...

Soon she was kneeling on the floor, between his massive legs, enjoying the taste and texture of his amazing cock. "Damn", she though "He might be a prick sometimes, but he is so sexy that I can't really stay away too long".

Not long after, the sloppy sounds of her blowjob were interrupted by the creak of the door.

Demi stilled, lips still nibbling Sid's cock head. He looked at her and smiled, and then she heard it: soft rustling, a hushed giggle, the faint squeak of bedsprings on the other side of the curtain, and then... mirroring sucking sounds. Quite the same she was happily producing a minute ago.

She pulled back, blinking. Whispered, "Is that...?"

Sid smirked, gently pushing her head, stuffing her mouth with black cock. "Yep. Tim and Isaiah."

She let out a quiet breath of disbelief by his nose -- and then a soft, muffled laugh as she joined the "blowjob choir".

There was no tension in Sid's tone. No judgment. Just a kind of casual peace, like it was the most natural thing in the world that both halves of the room -- once an awkward dance of boundaries and silence -- now held something honest. Something safe.

Demi thought that Tim's cage should probably be as wet as her pussy, judging by the muffled moans. She felt even hornier, but also sisterly proud.

The curtain, once a fragile wall between two different lives, now simply gave them all the space to be who they were -- side by side. Black cock junkies.

Not hiding. Not pretending. Just enjoying BBC.