One final contract change to conclude a tragic day

Amy and Cindy are given no help to clean up after the ceremony is over. The two women are still dripping from head to toe in disgusting slimy semen as they awkwardly descend from the stage. There are public women's bathrooms closer than their dorms... But why bother? Almost everybody on campus has already seen them like this, and there are countless high quality photos and recordings that will be making their way around the Academy's private social network already. They both independently reason that they'd much rather head straight back to their safe, private spaces, and then clean themselves up there, and then not have to show their faces again outside until tomorrow.

So, that's what they do. None of the women speak to each other as they leave. Amy and Becky share a look, but it's a pretty depressing one. Neither of them can bear to talk about what just happened right now.

Amy is completely naked, and so with one hand over her pussy, and one arm over her nipples, she hurries back to her dorm block as fast as her legs can carry her. She gets a few jeers and whoops as she goes, turning her bright red, but to be honest, her capacity for humiliation is already maxxed out today, and it doesn't really feel like this extra bit of degradation has caused significant additional harm.

That is, until she reaches her dormitory door, and discovers a final plot twist.

"Just one minute, Miss Barnes. We have some unfinished business." A man suddenly says from behind her.

Amy turns her head.

Standing behind her and over her, a whole foot and a half taller than her, having quietly stalked her all the way to her dorm, and with a handful of papers in one hand, is Maurice Briggs - her study supervisor, and contracted daily blowjob delivery recipient. Amy has an awful feeling that things are going to get even worse. And the hates the way that she's being **** to stand here, out in the hall, in front of this fully dressed man, while naked and covered from head to toe in semen. For some reason, her hands have gone straight to her breasts. Perhaps because they're closer to Maurice's eyeline than her pussy.

"Right now?" Amy grumbles. "You better be joking, you fucking bastard."

"Unfortunately so, thanks to your poor placement in tonight's game."

"What are you talking about." Amy grumbles, bristling.

"The uniform we agreed upon for you to wear in your work as a Blowjob Delivery Girl would now break the terms of your strip poker contract. Unless you can agree on a contract variation with me, you have less than 24 hours before you'd be in serious violation of either your Blowjob Delivery Girl contract, or the Strip Poker contract."

Oh FUCK.

"Luckily, you'll recall that there was a clause anticipating this. A backup uniform that would not clash with any outcome of the poker game. You did read that part, right?"

Oh... Fuck? I have no fucking clue what he's talking about. I can't read and remember every word of these stupidly long contracts!

"...I'd like you to remind me, please." Amy responds through gritted teeth.

"Of course." Maurice smiles widely, as if he'd anticipated this is the way the conversation would go. "Your backup option is to be completely naked, save for a collar that reads 'COCKSUCKER' in large letters, a Dick Clone 4000 dildo, perfectly molded to the shape of my penis, fully inserted inside your asshole. The used condom would be required to be tied to the collar for your walk home. There is also a mandatory behavior change required with this uniform - your dominant hand must never stop fingering your clitoris from the moment you leave your dorm to the moment you return there."

Amy feels light-headed. "You're kidding."

The uniform... I can't walk to and from my dorm looking like that! And fingering myself! But even worse... Not being able to use my dominant hand during the blowjob would probably make it take three times as long! Every day!

"I'm not kidding. However, that's why I'm here. To offer you a different uniform variation."

Amy feels trapped between a rock and a hard place. Whatever this variation is, she's almost certainly going to have to sign it.

"Show me what it says, then." She grumbles.

"It's complicated, yet simple. It varies each day, managed by the same AI that's managing the rest of you wardrobe."

Maurice holds out the first page for her to read. Amy hates standing out here in the hallway covered in cum, and struggles to focus.

"Take as long as you need." He says politely.

"Fuck you. Next page." Amy snaps back, riled up and simuatanously exhausted. It's been an overwhelming day.

The summary of that it is that the AI is in control, I won't know what I'm going to wear each until a few minutes before it's time for me to leave, and I won't have a choice. The AI will try to make it more degrading than my normal outfit for the day, but less degrading than the backup option. It's pretty clear that this is awful, but still better than the backup option.

"Okay. I agree. Do you need me to sign?" Amy snarls.

Maurice looks at her hands, neither of which are clean.

"No, I think the Sentinels witnessing will be fine for this variation. Thank you, Miss Barnes. I'll leave you to it, now."

"Fuck you very much." Amy growls, and storms past the cruel man and into her dorm.

One thorough shower later, and after a quick quiet sob of self-pity, Amy dries up, and collapses onto her bed, exhausted.