Preppy Polly demands you help her!

You have just about made it to your dorm when you see a familiar, but not friendly face. Polly is walking straight toward you, wearing an equestrian riding outfit that accentuates her comely curves by attempting, and failing to conceal them. Even in your dispirited daze, you can't help but notice the obscenely long, and extra large outline of a colossal cock crammed in her tight breeches. With her regal red jacket, lace cravat, and redundant riding helmet, she looks snobbier than when she used to strut around school in a three piece suit. You have put off helping Polly in part because of how guilty you feel for literally **** her into her current state, forcefully facefucking her while Slade held her down, and in part because you had always despised her as a boi.

"Well, well, well, well, weeeeeeell? Look who we have here? Little Miss Goody Hooker Heels. On your way from saving another lost soul? Where to next? Surely you weren't planning on skipping me? Not after you **** MY THROAT!" Polly shouts the last bit and draws some half hearted attention from passerbys, but most people just roll their eyes. It seems Polly is just as popular as a bimboi as she was as a bully boi.

Well, 'bully' is almost giving Polly too much credit. She never bullied you, or anyone else, directly. She always paid someone else to do it. She walked around with her bought off bullyguards and had them push you into lockers while she called you a fag. She still has the same cocky attitude but apparently not the same access to cash, as she is reduced to bullying you one on one. You are conflicted. Your innate desire to submit flares up at the sight of the package in her pants, but somehow your bitch switch isn't flipping all the way on, as if your bimboi body senses something about Polly that you've missed. On top of that tipsy topsy turmoil is the tug between your regret and revulsion you feel for the rich bitch.

"What are you waiting for? Follow me. If you're going to get all weepy for losers like Sasha Stilts, Geeky Greta, and Dee-umb who barely had lives to ruin in the first place, then you should be willing to slit your throat if I said I was thirsty for me." Polly sneers as she spits out her words in an affected East Coast accent you are pretty sure hasn't been used authentically in the last century. It's just one more thing you tell yourself to ignore. You hope you can help her fix her problem soon, so you can devote your time and energy towards the people you've hurt that weren't actually monsters.

In the meantime, you might at least get to suck her cock. You hate yourself for daydreaming about a dickhead's dick, but when it's their only redeeming feature it somehow makes it that much more alluring. You find yourself daydreaming about being a live in maid to Polly, sneaking behind her back to fuck all her other servants and then getting hate fucked to sleep every night by the hung hussy. The thought of being property makes you sick to your stomach, but unfortunately, your head is sick enough that you also get a hard on fantasizing about her putting a saddle on you and showing you how well she's learned how to ride. Your dirty daydreams are interrupted by Polly proclaiming, "We have arrived at my domicile, such as it is. I expect you to keep anything you see inside here a secret, are we understood?"

You nod, as much to get this over with as out of any sense of obligation to protect her 'good' name. You follow her into the dorm and are surprised by what you see. Abigail, the bimboi that eagerly embraced her transformation, naked except for the leather straps that have her bound to a fiendish framework that has her turned into a living easy chair. Her H cup breasts heave with every muffled breath. Her blow doll thick lips wrapped around a bright red ball gag. Her hair, almost as red as the gag cascades down past her heavenly hips. She bears a stunning resemblance to you, but it's as if she started with you in a character creation screen, and slid all the options to preposterously pornographic proportions. All save for her soft, shriveled shaft.

"You can see my problem. I find the one slut on campus stupid enough to let me turn her into a dildo chair, and the broken bimboi can't even get a boner!" Polly shouts at her 'furniture' while striking Abigail's limp little cock with her riding stick. It doesn't get any harder, but it does make Abigail moan and giggle and flush all over. You had heard of rare cases like this, bimbois without the usual thick cocks with hair trigger hard ons, but seeing it in person makes you feel a sense of sympathetic shame on her behalf. If your only sexual outlet was through your ass and throat, you'd probably be a total bottom bitch too. Well, more than you already are anyway.

You feel your sense of guilt tug at your righteous rage for seeing Abigail abused so cavalierly. You owe Polly a sizable debt, but surely you can't pay it back with someone else's freedom? You turn to Polly and put your foot down. "I know I owe you more than I can ever repay, but I won't help you hurt someone else to settle my debt. Certainly not poor agreeable Abigail." The stuck up snob is clearly not used to being refused. She looks more confused than furious.

"Waaaaaait. Let me get this straight? So you have a chance to let someone else pay your bill, and you insist on paying it yourself? Your daddy may have money, but you sure think like a poor. Tell you what? You can kill two birds with one cock. You can free 'poor' Abigail if you take her place." Polly smirks sadistically at her suggestion and you shiver. You feel trapped. You wouldn't trust Polly enough to lend her a penny, much less let her make you into fuck furniture. How else can you help Abigail?