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Chapter 38
by
Me333
What happens next?
They have to leave!
By then, the group slowed near the escalators. Darnell checked his phone and gave Jamal a nod. “We’re gonna split here, bro. Gotta get her to that piercing and tattoo appointment.”
“Oh, yeah, don't worry about it bro, was nice seeing you again, you too Abigail. Can'twait to see you with that new paint and those pierced nipples.”
You don't understand why Jamal was soo crude, but you guess hes just that way when hes with his friends.
Abigail leaned up, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach her boyfriend and she kissed Darnell’s cheek sweetly, then turned back to you with a cheeky wink. “Nice meeting you, Emile. Don’t be shy all the time, but you’re cute when you blush and remember, think about what I told you.”
Your chest thudded as they walked off, Abigail tucked tight under Darnell’s big arm, his hand planted firm on her thick, pale ass. They looked like a picture out of a magazine, contrasting black dominance to white submission.
“Alright,” Jamal said, snapping your attention back. “Now it’s our turn. Emile, you also need some new gear.”
“Gear?” you asked, blinking.
He grinned, clapping your shoulder his big hand filling out the space there. “Underwear, man. We’re hitting a shop next that Justin suggested. Remember, you told me that even your underware was uncomfortable, so, you need some new stuff that is comfortable to you. Plus, if that happens to br form-fitting stuff to show off that god-given booty people wouldn't mind. Don’t waste it hiding under those baggy boxers that make you feel like shit.”
Justin gave a small, embarrassed shrug, but didn’t argue. “Yeah… they’ve got pretty good cuts.”
You followed them, still rattled by Abigail’s words, until the neon sign of a sleek underwear store loomed over the three of you. Inside, everything was bright, modern, full of mannequins in tight briefs and compression trunks.
Jamal grabbed a pack off the wall and held it against your chest. “For starters take these, they hug the thights and lift the cheeks. Perfect for a boy like you.”
Your face heated. “I-I don’t know…”
Justin actually stepped in, his voice soft but certain. “They’re comfortable, Emile. And… they look good. Trust me I got a few pairs of those.”
You glanced between him, Jamal’s grin, and the mirror at the front of the shop. For a second, you imagined yourself in those same cuts, your curves outlined, your “cake” as Jamal likes to call it, displayed instead of hidden. Your stomach twisted, half embarrassment, half… something else.
Jamal laughed, tossing the pack into your hands. “Don’t worry, bro. You’ll thank me when you see yourself in ‘em. Every man needs underwear that makes him look fuckable.”
Your pulse spiked, words failing you again, why does he always have to talk like that? But still, you didn’t put the pack back onto the shelf.
Jamal chooses another one for you, these ones are from a more famous brand. They look pretty revealing, it seems like they are not suppose to completely hide your asscheeks. At least they have enough fabric to hide your crotch, even though you know there isn't much to hide, because of your small size. But Jamal doesn’t have to know about that, you just hope that it won't be so obvious at the pool party with those tight speedos.
With both of the packs in your hand you get to the counter, but before Justin can pay for them, Jamal places another box onto the table. You can't quite see what they are since Justin stands infront of you, but by the way the black man is smiling, you are not confident that you will like them.
Just like before Justin pays for everything and again he also carrys all of the bags.
The three of you stepped out of the shop, the bag of new underwear swinging lightly from Justin's hand. You couldn’t stop thinking about Abigail’s words, her voice dripping with erotic pride as she claimed the title of snow bunny. Maybe you should ask Jamal what he thinks about the word and what it means from his perspective.
Do you ask him?
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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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