White Student Association — White Voice Agents #19–22

Disclaimer:

This story is an experiment for me. I want to explore not just four central character arcs, but also divergent paths, with recurring themes of gay sex scenes, sissification, feminization, and explicit transformation scenes. If that’s not your thing, that’s totally fine — other stories in the BWC Takeover project will continue to focus more on male/female and female/female dynamics. I may also write female-on-male chapters in the future. Optional visual material might appear later, but I’ll keep it in Optional Chapters, since some readers enjoy this kind of content in text but not in images. My hope is that there will be something here for everyone.

Amara sat behind the desk in her private office, the light low, her two slaves kneeling at her feet. Spurt, tall and muscled in his neat shirt, had papers spread out in front of him. Slurp, elegant and dark-skinned, rested with her hands folded on her thighs, eyes lowered, lips curved in a faint smile.

“Midland State is locked down,” Spurt reported. “The dean—Dr. Eleanor Sánchez—runs the place like a fortress. She rejects donations outright, keeps faculty under strict watch, and stamps out anything that doesn’t align with her rigid progressive code. Unlike other progressives, she never abandoned lucrative programs like business, law, or engineering, but she doubled down on filling the humanities and social sciences with her ideology. No way to slip our programs in through the usual channels.”

Amara drummed her fingers once, then leaned back with a grin. “Then we plant agents. Not staff. Students. Fresh blood. I’ve spent months with them—hours of White Voice conditioning, endless conversations, peeling away their false skins until they saw who they really were. Conquerors. Exactly what we need.”

She laughed suddenly, sharp and delighted. “Four young men, moving in as frat boys, and we’ll let them take the campus piece by piece. It’s genius.” She leaned toward Slurp. “What about you?”

Slurp’s voice was low, sultry. “The thought of white conquerors remaking this place, Mistress—it already makes me ache with anticipation.”

“Good.” Amara’s eyes narrowed. “Spurt, handle the logistics. Frat house. White Life Matters stipends. Dorm assignments. Make sure they land exactly where we want them. And if the dean allows them in but tries anything—any harassment, any sabotage—you know what happens then.”

“Yes, Miss,” Spurt said quickly, bowing his head.

Weeks later, just before the semester began, in the city of Oxberg near Midland State College.

The first to arrive was a young man with the plain, steady look of someone who had grown up in the countryside—broad hands, modest clothes, and cautious eyes. He paused at the gate, studying the house as if it were a puzzle. His name, as he soon introduced himself, was Sam, from Hohenfield.

Soon another appeared: taller, built like a fighter, his shoulders filling his shirt, his step relaxed but confident. He carried himself as though walking into an arena. This was Mark from Lodnerdam D.C., a wrestler studying sports science.

A third followed—neatly dressed, polished in manner, eyes quick and assessing. He looked over the house the way some men read contracts, as if weighing its value. He introduced himself as David from Silverhaven, a law student with an easy, practiced smile.

Last came a wiry figure with restless energy, his gaze sharp and searching, a grin tugging at his mouth. He moved like someone who had learned to expect trouble and use it. Ethan from Breitenau, political science and communications, joined the group.

They exchanged greetings, this time more naturally—“Hey, you here for the same thing?” “Yeah, White Life Matters, right?”—their handshakes firm, their small talk uneven but genuine. The beginnings of a bond formed in those first moments.

The door opened. A striking woman stood before them—dark-skinned, full lips, beauty impossible to ignore. She bowed her head slightly and spoke in a soft, submissive tone. “Masters, welcome. I am Slurp, your devoted servant.” She tugged sharply on the leash in her hand. “Cucky! Move. My husband Spurt and I are here to serve you.”

Spurt stumbled forward, bowing his head. “Welcome, Sirs.”

One of the young men muttered, “Man… I’ll never get used to that.”

Ethan only laughed. “I already have, brother. This is the new order. Exactly how it should be.” He shot Spurt a sharp look. “Good bitch—you know your place is on your knees.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Spurt murmured.

Inside, the house gleamed with polish. Slurp guided them to the living room, unfolded a letter, and began to read.

“Masters, Amara is proud of you. Proud of the months of work, the training, the hours of preparation you’ve endured. Now comes the true test. You will form the White Student Association. By regulation, at least six members are required, and no more than half may be white. Each of you must bring your dorm roommate under your command. Loyal. Obedient. In four weeks’ time, when Amara returns, you will present proof. If you succeed, this house is yours to keep as your fraternity base.”

She drew four slim USB sticks from an envelope and placed them on the table. “Mistress also writes: each of you will test our newest tools—the Colored Devotion video and audio modules. Use them with your roommates. Play them casually, frame them as study resources or progressive training. Observe the effects. Combine them with what you learned through White Voice. This is how you turn resistance into loyalty.”

Her voice dropped as she read the closing lines. “Amara adds: Spurt and I are not here only to read this to you. We are here to show you what happens when loyalty is complete—and what will await you every day once you succeed. Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen. She will return in one month, expecting to witness the founding of your brotherhood.”

The men traded hungry looks, grins spreading across their faces. The house was quiet but for the sound of their breathing, anticipation heavy in the air. The chapter closes there—with the four of them staring at Spurt and Slurp, knowing exactly what comes next.

"Ok, bitch, then put those beautiful lips to use," David broke the silence first, his voice thick with desire. Slurp gave a submissive nod and reached up with trembling fingers, unfastening his belt and slowly opening his pants. "Yes, Master David," she whispered as she freed him, her eyes fixed on his cock. She leaned in, wrapped her lips around the head, savoring the taste of his skin. David reached down and grabbed Slurp's head, pulling her closer. "God, those lips," he groaned.

David turned his head toward Sam and said firmly, “What are you waiting for Sam, come here and take what you want.” Slurp pulled back just long enough to add in a breathless, submissive tone, “Yes, come closer… and don’t treat me kindly. I am beneath you.” She glanced at the nervous young man, seeing the hunger in his eyes. Then, without waiting for his answer, she reached out and undid Sam’s pants, freeing his cock. She began to stroke him while returning her lips to David, her gaze fixed upward on Sam to show she knew her place was under him.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan, grinning as he drove himself into Spurt’s mouth, dominating him with obvious delight. Ethan’s voice carried a harsh edge of triumph as he said, “They thought they could break me, but I break them.” Mark, watching, gave a crooked grin. “Man, I thought I was big. Respect.” Ethan pulled Spurt off and shoved him toward Mark. “Your turn—take him.” Spurt looked startled, but obeyed instantly, lowering his head to serve Mark as Ethan looked on with satisfaction.

Ethan’s grin widened as he held Spurt down with ruthless confidence. “I’m gonna break this ass,” he growled, his tone sharp with pleasure. He yanked Spurt’s pants down and pressed inside him in one hard thrust, reveling in the control. Spurt gasped, his body jerking as Ethan drove into him again and again. “That’s it,” Ethan snarled, leaning close to his ear, “take it all, you’re mine now.”

David watched the display, his cock still buried in Slurp’s mouth. A wicked smile played across his face as he slid his hand lower, tracing along her thighs before pressing two fingers into her wet heat. “Tell me, how does it feel, Slut?” he demanded, his voice rough with control. Slurp moaned around him, her body quivering as she tried to answer. She pulled back just enough to gasp, “Master David, you’re overwhelming me… my husband never used me like this. Please, claim me completely, show me what it means to belong to you.”

David’s voice dropped, rough with command. “Let’s move her to the couch—make her take both of us properly.” He and Sam lifted Slurp and set her down, their cocks still hard and eager. David spread her legs wide, his grip firm on her thighs. “So, Sam—ass or pussy?” he asked with a crooked grin. Sam’s eyes narrowed with hunger. “That ass is mine.” He pushed into her slowly at first, gripping her hips, then slammed harder until she cried out, her body shaking beneath him. David wasted no time, driving himself into her pussy, his hands clamped on her hips as he thrust deep. The couch rocked under their combined ****, each movement harsh and relentless, their rhythm pounding into her in brutal harmony.

Pinned beneath them on the couch, Slurp writhed as Sam thrust into her ass from behind while David lay under her, buried deep in her pussy. David’s hands gripped her hips hard, his thumbs teasing and tugging at her nipples until she cried out. The double penetration made her body quake, her moans filling the room with **** need. “Please, Masters, use me harder,” she gasped, tears pricking her eyes from the intensity. “I exist to serve you!”

The two men drove into her in brutal rhythm, each thrust making her body jolt and arch between them. “Fuck, yes,” she screamed, her voice breaking as David twisted her nipples and Sam slammed deeper. “Yes, please, yes!” Her body shuddered violently, collapsing into raw ecstasy as she toppled over the edge. “Yes, yes, yes!” she sobbed, shaking with rapture.

The men held her down and came in unison, their cocks throbbing inside her as she milked them with every convulsion. When they finally stilled, her body sagged between them, trembling and spent. “Thank you, Masters,” Slurp whispered hoarsely, her voice dripping devotion. “Thank you for claiming me completely and bleaching me with your glorious seed.”

The men smiled, their bodies still entwined with hers. They lay there for a moment, their bodies spent and satisfied. "That was amazing," David said, his voice low and husky. "Yes, it was, what a fucking first day" Sam said, grinning.

They looked to the other side of the room, where Ethan and Mark were driving Spurt to his breaking point. “Yeah, I’ll break your boy hole,” Ethan growled into Spurt’s ear, thrusting harder. Spurt whimpered incoherently while Mark, seated across his face, only laughed. “Let’s finish this bitch.” Both men used him with relentless hunger, pounding away until Spurt could no longer hold back. True to his name, he finally spurted, undone by his two Masters.

“You pathetic little bitch,” Ethan snarled. “You just came on my cock. Now milk me… milk every drop.”

“Yes, Master, please—fill me,” Spurt sobbed, his body shaking. Mark pulled his cock free and stroked it to climax. “I’ll paint your face,” he growled, before exploding across Spurt as Ethan released inside him.

“Thank you, Sirs,” Spurt gasped weakly. “Thank you for bleaching me and making me yours.”

The four men looked at each other, chests heaving as they caught their breath. “What a day,” Ethan said with a wild grin. “I could do this every damn night.”

David let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Soon, brothers. We just have to take them one by one—conquer after conquer until the whole place is ours.”