Go to campus

You sit for a moment, waiting for something to happen. But unlike the moment when you made it acceptable for men to touch any skin that women (who were all topless) were showing, nothing happens immediately. Perhaps it's because the men have to notice you in particular before they do anything? Maybe it's because sex isn't being advertised by default, in the way that it was when all women were topless...

You decide to make a move to get on with your day. You left room for a normal life for a reason: you wanted people from your normal life to have their way with you. So you stand up, and start heading to your university campus.

Your campus is a little ways away, so you take the metro. As you walk along the street, you do notice some small differences in how people are reacting: mostly, men seem to be looking at you a little more frankly. You almost wonder if you have some crumbs at the corner of your mouth, until you realise that they're looking at your face because they want to, and don't care what you or anyone else thinks about looking at you directly. You get a thrill at the way that the men seem to be evaluating you.

You get onto the metro, standing near the doors. After one stop, a man gets on and, seeing you, walks to stand right in front of you.

"Well, hell-o," he says, cupping your chest with his hands. "I bet it's been a while since a man gave you a good feel-up, huh?"

You stammer. "Um, I ---"

"Come come," he says, "No need to keep your lovely tits covered up like that. Let's get them some air," he says. He runs a finger gently from the neck of your shirt to the bottom, the buttons popping gently out of their holes, like magic. He reaches for the front of your bra, puts a finger between the two cups, and --- pulling it forward casually --- tears the stitching, ruining the bra and letting your breasts fall free.

"Did --- you just tore through my bra," you say.

The man shrugged. "Too bad. I like you better without a bra on anyway." He cups a breast in one hand, and both of your nipples go stiff.

You shiver. "I --- " you stammer.

On the one hand, this is exactly what you wished for. But it's different with it actually happening, and happening only to you. And you specifically wished for it to be embarrassing.

You look around to see how other people are reacting. You see one dark-haired, bearded hipster look to your blouse with a smile. He doesn't stir, but seems quite relaxed about staring at your exposed cleavage. A well-dressed businesswoman is also looking at your chest. She looks up to meet your gaze, acknowledging your attention... but clearly untroubled by what is happening.

You gasp, not so much from the stimulation, but from the overwhelming situation of helplessness at this stranger coming up to you and grasping your breast. You feel yourself start to moisten.

"You like that, do you?" says the man, pinching a nipple, hard.

"Ow," you complain.

"You dirty whore." he says, pulling his hand away.

"W-what??" you ask. This is a bit much to take all at once.

"You heard me," he says, giving one of your breasts a not very friendly slap. "You like to tease men and then hold back. You disgust me," he says.

You start to get dizzy with panic. This isn't what you bargained for.

"Excuse me," a voice says, sternly.

The bearded hipster you noticed earlier, who had been sitting and looking at your exposed cleavage. The man who had been groping you looked to him.

"I don't think that you should be talking to this woman this way, and I definitely don't think you should hit her. You should get off at the next stop."

"Fuck you," says the nasty man.

"If you don't, I'll call the transit police," says the hipster. You look around, and see the businesswoman from before looking disapprovingly at the nasty man. The hipster cocks his head at the nasty man.

The unpleasant man who had been groping you looked at the hipster, then you, and scoffed. The subway pulled to a stop, and he left.

The hipster shakes his head and turns to you. He puts a hand gently on your face. "You alright, babe? That guy was completely out of line."

You're in a bit of shock. "Y-- er, yeah," you manage. "I- I guess I'm fine."

The hipster smiles kindly. "Are you hurt? Let's get a look at those tits of yours." He reaches into your open shirt and cups your breasts from beneath, opening your shirt.

Your chest is completely exposed for everyone in the subway car to see. The businesswoman nods with appreciation. "Nice rack, honey," she says to you warmly, as if to comfort you.

The hipster gently hefts your breasts from below, taking a good look. "Doesn't look like it will bruise," he says. He turns to the businesswoman. "I mean, such lack of respect though, you know? I don't care how much of a slut this woman is, that doesn't mean you get to hit her. She's a person, and anyway, he should leave her in a good condition for other men to play with." He lets your breasts down gently, and begins to play idly with your left nipple, sending shivers down you.

The businesswoman nods. "It's good to hear a man stand up to lousy bastards like that."

The hipster frowned. "Yeah, he seemed like he had problems." He turns to you, and smiles kindly.

You still feel a bit dizzy and lost. You feel much safer than you did a minute ago. But no sooner had this man shooed away the nasty man, than he started fondling you himself, showing off your chest for everyone to see, and calling you a slut in the third person to someone else. But he was at least being kind.

You come to realise that your pussy is soaking wet. When the hipster bends down to kiss you on the lips, you offer no resistance. His tongue gently plays against yours. You mewl involuntarily into his mouth.

As he pulls away slowly, you gasp. The businesswoman turns to you.

"I just want to say, no matter how much of a slut you are, you deserve better than what that other man was doing to you," she says.

You turn to her, puzzled. "Th- thanks, I guess," you manage.

The hipster opens the buttons of your fly, surprisingly easy with one hand. "I'm just going to check how wet you are," he says, still cupping one breast with the other hand. You feel yourself blush a bright red.

He snakes a hand into your panties without any difficulty. A meaty finger pushes past your clit on the way to your parting nether lips. You gasp.

"There there," he says, gently fingering you in public. "What's your stop?"

"U-University," you stammer.

"Okay, that's the next one," he says. "You seem upset. Do you want me to walk you someplace?" he asks, probing your pussy with another finger.

"N-no," you manage. "I'm okay. Honest."

"Okay," he says. He pulls his hand out of your jeans, and gently pushes his fingers into your mouth. You see him shudder slightly. "Mmm, if only I didn't have some place to be," he says. "My name's Grant, by the way."

"I-I'm Tilly," you say. You're not sure why you're telling him.

"Well, Tilly," says the hipster, taking a pen out from his pocket, "Can I give you my phone number? If you want to report that man to the police for ****, I'd be more than happy to substantiate your statement." Some of the others in the car murmur that they're happy to act as witnesses as well.

"Actually, Grant" says the businesswoman, "I'm just getting off here too. I'll give you my contact information, and I'll help 'Tilly' here with reporting when she's ready to."

"Cool," says Grant. Before you know it, Grant and the businesswoman --- Olivia --- have exchanged numbers. The train pulls up to the station.

Grant quickly flicks one of your nipples with his left hand. "See you soon, Tilly," he says, cheerfully.

"B-bye," you say, Olivia walking next to you.