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Chapter 48
by
Me333
What do you do next?
You try on the new underwear!
After your shower, your skin still humming from the heat and steam, you walked back into the room with your towel wrapped loosely around your waist. Droplets of water trailed down your chest, tickling along your ribs and vanishing into the cotton. The room was quiet, when you look at your phone and see that Jamal had left for the gym before you woke up, and for the first time since you left germany, you were alone.
The grocery bags were tucked away, your clothes stacked neatly in the dresser, but the corner of your bed still held the small pile you’d left untouched earlier: the underwear packs. The first two, you knew, plain basics and the tighter ones Jamal and Justin had shown you at the store. But the third… the one Jamal had slipped to the cashier in the last second, without showing you what they were, you hadn't seen yet.
Curiosity got the better of you. You sat on the edge of the bed, opened the paper bag, and froze.
Inside were pairs of underwear that weren’t like the others at all. Not regular briefs, not sporty boxers. These were… something else. The fabric was soft and silky, thin enough to catch the light. Nearly see-through. The cut wasn’t modest either, high at the thighs, low at the waist, designed to cling. It wasn’t just underwear. It was some kind of lingerie.
Your stomach fluttered. Jamal had to be joking. This was some prank, wasn’t it? You almost laughed to yourself, shaking your head. But your fingers lingered on the fabric, stroking the smoothness. The material was cool against your skin, feather-light.
Before you could stop yourself, you stood and dropped your towel, heart thudding in your chest. Just to see, you told yourself. No one’s here.
You stepped into the first pair. The fabric stretched delicately over your thick thighs, sliding up until it hugged your pale hips like a second skin. You turned toward the mirror, and your breath caught.
The cut made your already huge ass look… enormous. Round, full, framed perfectly by the sheer fabric. The pale curve of your skin showed through faintly, your shape exaggerated in a way that was almost obscene. The front, though… you swallowed. It didn’t fill the pouch in the front the way you thought it should. Your cock was pretty small, modest, and the thin material only made that more obvious.
Heat rose to your cheeks. Definitely a joke, you thought. But…
You couldn’t deny it. You looked… good. Better than you expected. The nerves that usually clenched your stomach when you thought about showing your body weren’t as loud this time. Instead there was a strange thrill, a pulse of something close to pride.
You tried on another pair, this one darker, even more revealing, hugging you tighter. The mirror showed a version of you that felt unfamiliar but magnetic, like you were seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes. Slowly, you twisted, turned, bent forward a little. The fabric shifted, stretching across your pale ass in ways that made you gasp quietly to yourself.
It was strange, embarrassing even, but you couldn’t stop yoursels. There were 4 more pairs in the box, so, pair by pair, you pulled them on, each more daring than the last. Each time you caught your reflection, your pulse jumped higher.
Then, crouched low to grab a dropped pair from the floor, bent forward in nothing but the delicate, sheer, red fabric hiding your thick bubble butt, you heard the door unlock.
“Yo, I’m ba...” Jamal’s voice cut off.
You froze in the position for a moment and then quickly turn around, heart slamming into your ribs, just as Jamal stepped into the room in his gym clothes a dark tank clinging to his chest, loose joggers hanging low on his hips. His eyes obviously landed on you, bent over, your pale ass practically spilling out of the see-through lingerie.
For a heartbeat, the room froze.
Then Jamal barked a laugh, though his voice was rougher than usual. “Damn, bro. I leave for one hour and you turn the place into a Victoria’s Secret runway?”
Your face burned hot. “I... I didn’t know what they were, I was just...”
“You were just what?” Jamal grinned, but his eyes flicked low again, lingering shamelessly. His hand twitched at his side, like he didn’t know what to do with it.
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. But mixed into the embarrassment was something else, the echo of your dream, the way Jamal had looked at you there. Dominant. Admiring. Telling you how sexy you were.
You glanced down by accident, and that’s when you saw it. The hugr bulge in Jamal’s gray joggers. Large, heavy, pressing clearly against the fabric, hiding nothing. He shifted quickly, tugging at the hem of his tank as if to cover it, but it was too late, you already seen it and your breath hitched.
“Shit,” he muttered, spinning half away. “Uh, yeah, I’ll... I’m gonna hit the shower.” He headed straight for the bathroom, his broad shoulders stiff, the door shutting harder than usual behind him.
You stood frozen in the middle of the room, every nerve alive, your reflection staring back at you from the mirror. Your chest rose and fell fast, your pale body still wrapped in the thin, revealing fabric.
Embarrassment prickled your skin. But under it, deeper, there was warmth. Heat. Curiosity. The image of Jamal’s eyes on you, of the way his body reacted, just by seeing you in these underwear, it wouldn’t leave your mind.
And though you told yourself not to think about it, you couldn’t stop replaying and comparing it to the dream you had, over and over.
Do the two of you recover from the interaction?
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The Black Students Association
Initiation
The plane from Germany feels like a lifetime ago. All that’s real now is the weight of the suitcase in your hand and the sprawling, unfamiliar campus of your new American university. You’re Emile, white, eighteen years old, an exchange student, your straight, or at least you think you are, your body is average, besides the big bubble butt that you always got bullied for, and your new home is a dorm room with two beds. Your roommate is Jamal. He’s tall, athletic, with a confidence that seems to radiate from him. His skin is dark, his smile is sharp and disarming, and his presence... it’s just commanding. He’s not just another student; he’s the heart of the Black Students Association, the BSA, a group everyone on campus respects. They fight for equality, they push back against racism, that’s the official story, the one you would hear in the hallways. But you start to notice things. Little things. The way the white members of their circle look at the Black members. A certain look in their eyes. The way commands are given... and followed. Without question or hesitation. Jamal takes you under his wing from day one. He walks you through campus, his hand a warm weight on your shoulder, introducing you to everyone who matters. He makes you feel seen, welcomed. And somewhere between the campus tours and the late-night talks in your shared room, you start to feel it too. That subtle, magnetic pull toward him. That warm, comforting pressure to just... follow his lead. And maybe, just maybe... you don’t mind at all. This is your semester. Your education. In more ways than one.
Updated on Jun 10, 2026
by Me333
Created on Aug 17, 2025
by Me333
With every decision at the end of a chapter your game state can change. Here are your current variables.
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