Holo Gen 1 Dorm

The academy had made exactly one exception in its history, and that exception was you: the first and only male student ever admitted, ferried across the bay to a campus of women who studied streaming and stagecraft and had almost no idea what to do with a man in their halls. The board had granted it after a year of petitions, but the student body had not, and every corridor you walked was a corridor where heads turned.

Your first week had been anything but quiet. Sora had brought you in the practice room against the wall with her skirt hiked and her hand clamped over her mouth. Azki had auditioned for you on her knees in Studio B with a business card left on the desk. Miko had put a video on her laptop and matched it with you, then rewound it and asked for another round. Suisei had lain flat on the bench and made you call her perfect while you defiled her. Roboco had detached her limbs before you used her like a sex toy, then asked with wet bright eyes to be reassembled slowly. By the end of the week the five of them had gathered in the common room to plan one night, all of them together, to satisfy all your desires.

Then Sunday came, and Matsuri found you in the quad with a whistle swinging against her chest and both hands waving over her head. "Hey hey! You're the guy! The first week must have been insane, everyone's been whispering. We have juice and a couch and Mel's been asking questions, actual questions, about you, so you're coming to Dorm 2." She said it like a fact and then laughed loud enough that a group of girls by the fountain turned to look.

The door swung open on a room lit pink and purple, fairy lights strung along the upper bunk, and the whole scene locked into a held pose. Matsuri dropped to her knees with her arm up in a peace sign, her loose white tank top pulling down over one small breast, a brown band-aid stuck to her chest. "Ta-da! Grand entry! I got 'em, I actually got 'em, nobody else gets to touch him until I say so."

Haato sat on the chair to the right with her pink collared shirt hanging open over a black lace bra, one thigh-high stocking crossed over the other, her heart shaped pin catching the light. She lifted her chin and flicked her eyes over you. "Hmph. So you're the notorious one. I am Haato. Do not misunderstand, I did not agree to this, Matsuri simply wouldn't stop talking."

On the bed, Mel drew a white pillow up to her chest and held it there, her dark purple nightgown slipping off one shoulder, her bat hairpin glinting. "Ah. Hello," she said, her voice so soft it nearly vanished under the music of the room. "I'm Mel. I made juice. It' acerola. You don't have to drink it, but I'd like it if you did."

Aki stood behind the yellow-haired one, a sheer white wrap tied at her hip over a red bikini top, and she swayed on the spot, her two floating pigtails drifting lazily beside her head. "Aloona," she said, and then, with a small slow smile, "my pigtails've been pulling me toward the door all afternoon. They are terrible gossips and they were right, for once."

Sunday night had ended with the four of them crowded around you on the couch and the low table littered with juice glasses, Matsuri wedged against your side and Haato pretending she wasn't, her shoulder pressed to your arm while she complained the bench was too small. Aki danced for the room with the music low, her pigtails swaying, and Mel curled into the corner with her pillow and watched until her amber eyes went heavy. Nobody had touched you past an arm or a shoulder. Nobody in Dorm 2 knew what the first week had been, and the not knowing sat in the warm pink air like a held breath.

Monday morning found you crossing the quad toward the gym annex, and a whistle's sharp trill cut the air before a body dropped out of nowhere into your path. Matsuri landed in a crouch on the white lines of the walkway, popped upright, and planted both hands on her hips, her orange cardigan flying open over the crop top, her ponytail swinging wide. "Hey hey! Gotcha! You've been here a whole week and I haven't gotten you alone once, that is a scandal." She grabbed your wrist with both hands and pulled, walking backward so she could keep talking at you. "Listen listen, everybody keeps saying the first male student is so mysterious, ooh, such a big deal, and I keep saying no he's just a guy, but then I watched you yesterday and now I'm the one saying mystery things in my head. It's terrible. I hate it."

She bounced on the balls of her feet, the green striped belt sliding against her waist, and her cornflower eyes flicked down your body and back up, quick and scanning. "So I've been thinking. I'm very flexible, did you know that? I do tumbling, I do stunts, I can fold myself completely in half. Everyone thinks it's just for cheerleading." Her voice went bright and fast, her hands slapping your shoulder, then her tone dropped low and warm all at once, stripped bare. "Hey. Come watch me practice. I want to show you something, and I don't want an audience for it." She grabbed the whistle at her chest and blew one short chirp, grinning with her whole face. "That means you are coming. Campus rules, cheer captain outranks new guy."

The gym annex smelled of floor wax and the faint rubber residue of mats stacked against the far wall, and the windows high above let the morning light down in pale columns across the wooden boards. Matsuri pulled the double doors shut behind you and the latch clicked, then she spun on her heel and walked backward out onto the center of the mat, her sneakers squeaking.

"Okay okay, look, watch, this is the thing nobody gets to see at practice." She dropped onto her back and rolled her shoulders into the mat, then swept her legs up and hooked her ankles behind her own head one after the other, knees framing her face, her white skirt stayed hiked up around her hips while she lay there breathing hard through her open mouth. "See? Everything's exposed, my hips are tilted, I can't move, I'm just stuck here holding the shape. My coach says it's a contest move. It's not a contest move." She laughed loud and chest thrown, then her voice cracked down into something breathy. "Hey hey. Come here. I folded myself like a pretzel for you and you are standing all the way over there."

Matsuri's ankles stayed locked behind her head, her knees pressing wide against her own cheeks so her face was framed in the open V of her own legs, her breath came in quick gusts through her grinning mouth. "You are still standing over there! Unbelievable. I have been holding this for like ten whole seconds, my back is already complaining, and you're just looking." She wiggled her hips against the mat, her skirt bunched at her waist, and the neat heart trimmed into the dark hair between her thighs flashed into view with every small shift. "Okay, fine, let me explain the rules since you are clearly new here. Rule one, when the cheer captain folds herself in half, you come over and fuck her brains out. Rule two, you hold me open, because I'm the one doing the work and you're the one getting the view. It's not easy holding this position without any help. Rule three, you do not slow down, not once, not even when I start yelling." She sucked in air and her voice dropped low and honest. "I can take way more than people think. Everybody thinks small girl, be careful. I hate it. So don't be careful. Fuck me!"

Monday had ended on the gym mats with Matsuri folded beneath you, ankles locked behind her own head, her knees pressed wide against her cheeks while you held her hips tilted and filled her without mercy. "Don't you dare slow down," she shouted, voice cracking, and then the shouting dissolved into breathless honesty, her small body convulsing hard as she came with her back arching off the mat. When she finally unfolded, she lay there laughing through the ache in her spine and then tucked herself against your chest, quiet for once, needing to be told she did well.

Haato had not slept. She'd lain in her bed with the twintails fanned across the pillow and the red bangle on her thigh cold against her skin, listening to the Dorm 2 walls and thinking about the first male student until her ears burned into the dark. She wasn't supposed to want him, she had said so out loud to Matsuri, and yet her hands'd gone to her own stomach in the small hours, pressing flat where the plate would go. By dawn she'd made her choice. Today she would fold her pride and open her legs for him. And more than anything, she had an appetite that could only be sated by one thing.

Tuesday morning brought Haato in the little kitchen of Dorm 2, a plate balanced in both hands and her twintails swinging as she turned from the counter. The counter behind her was a battlefield: a pot of something orange, a cutting board scattered with herb stems, a smear of sauce across the tiles, and the sharp smell of burnt sugar trying to be rescued by too much salt. "You are late," she said, lifting her chin, and the red ribbon bow at her collar rose with it. "Not that I was waiting. I simply made too much and the others are ungrateful. Sit. You will eat it and you will tell me it's good."

She set the plate down hard enough that the contents sloshed, then folded her arms over her chest, pressing her F cups up above the ribbon, her light blue eyes darted to your face and away again, the tips of her ears going pink. "Hmph. This is my own recipe. If it's bad, that's your fault for having a weak palate." Her fingers tugged at her cuff, once, twice. The plate was a mess of noodles and orange sauce, overcooked but warm, and she watched every single bite with her lips pressed thin, waiting.

When you ate it, her arms came uncrossed slowly. A short sharp laugh escaped behind her hand. "Obviously. I'm very good at cooking. Everyone says so." She pulled out the chair beside you and sat, her shoulder close to yours, her knees turned in. "You know, the others think I'm difficult. I am not difficult. I simply have standards." Her voice had gone quieter, and she tugged her cuff again, and then her hand came to rest flat on your arm, her fingers cool through the blouse sleeve. "You didn't mock me. You ate it all." She lifted her face, and her ears were red now, all the way to the tips. "Listen. I made a second plate. For myself. It's in my room but I need your help finishing it."

Haato pushed back from the table so quickly the chair legs scraped, and she was already walking, twintails swaying, one hand tugging at her cuff as she glanced back to make sure you were following. Her room smelled of her, powdery and sweet, and the second plate sat on the low desk near the window, a sandwich. Instead of the noodle dish she prepared fresh for you, her meal was something that could sit for awhile. She shut the door behind you with her back, her palms flat against the wood, and her chin came up while her light blue eyes refused to settle on any one part of your face. "Don't misunderstand," she said, and her voice pitched up on the last word. "This is not what it looks like. This is a cooking demonstration."

She crossed to the desk and lifted the plate, then set it on the bed, and her fingers worked at the red ribbon bow at her collar until it came loose. The blouse slid off her shoulders and pooled at her elbows, and her bra followed, her full breasts spilling free with a soft weight, the pale pink nipples already drawn up tight. She hooked her thumbs in her blue skirt and pushed it down her thighs, stockings and all, and stepped out of the fabric in her white socks and nothing else, her cheeks going pink from the collar of her throat up to her ears. "The plate goes here," she said, and lay back across the bed, settling it flat and cold onto her stomach just below the navel. "And you will watch me. Not the plate. Me."

Her hand slid down her stomach and between her thighs, and a low wet sound rose as her fingers found the neat blonde fur and parted it, sliding through her own slick in slow circles. Her hips rolled up off the mattress, the plate tilting, and her mouth fell open, her breath coming short and sharp while she worked herself. "Ah, do not look away," she gasped, her voice cracking out of its careful elegance. "You are supposed to be watching me, and you are supposed to be getting close, and then you are going to finish right here, on my sandwich, and I am going to eat every bite while you watch me do it." Her fingers sped up, her back arching, and she turned her head on the pillow with her twintails scattered and her eyes bright and almost angry. "I want to swallow the proof that you wanted me. Come on. I made this for you. I know you have something delicious for me. Come and give me something worth eating."

Tuesday night ended on Haato's bed with her twintails tangled across the pillow and her thighs still trembling around your hips. She made you watch her until her fingers slipped and she came with a sharp cry, and then she ate every bite of her meal with her eyes fixed on yours, licking your cum off her fingers with a defiance that dissolved into a red-faced huff when you kissed her mouth. Then she had dragged you down and hooked her ankles around your waist, the plate clattering off the mattress, and demanded you fuck her until you gave her a second load directly in her mouth. Afterward she sat up first and straightened her blouse with sharp, embarrassed motions before pressing her shoulder to your arm and complaining that you were too warm while staying exactly there.

Aki had spent the whole night thinking about it, alone in her room with the sheets twisted around her legs and the music still playing in her head. The first male student. Everyone in the halls whispered it, and she had smiled along with them and said nothing, but under the smile was a low steady heat that wouldn't go away, because she had watched him all through the first week and seen the way the girls of Dorm 1 smiled at nothing. Could it have been that? Did he have his eyes set on Dorm 1? She wanted to know what it felt like to have eyes like that on her, not polite and glancing but hungry, fixed, staying. She'd never once asked permission for a stage, and she wasn't going to start now. Today she would dance for him, and before the day was over she would climb into his lap and take everything she had been imagining.

Wednesday came and Aki was waiting, swaying on the balls of her feet in the bright entry hall, her two floating pigtails drifting like they had followed a scent. "Aloona! My pigtails found you first, they are much better at this than I am." She smoothed her fringe with one gloved hand and one pigtail nudged at her cheek. "I was going to ask you something but I've forgotten what it was." She looked at you for a long moment, her icy blue eyes steady and her lips parting, and then she took your hand in her gloved one and started walking without a word.

The dance studio sat at the end of the arts corridor, and the mirror wall ran floor to ceiling and threw the two of you back at yourselves. Aki clicked a small speaker on and a heavy drum started, low and rolling, she turned to face you with her chin lifting. "I am going to dance for you, and I'm not going to ask, because every time I ask people get shy and start looking at their shoes." She peeled the cyan dress off her shoulder first, the fabric dragging over her waist, and then the dress was pooled at her feet and she stood in her white gloves and her boots and nothing else, her F cups swaying free as she began to roll her hips.

Her stomach rippled in slow waves and her hips circled out and back, one thigh lifting to the drum while her belly moved against the rhythm, and she held her hands above her head with her eyes never leaving your face. "You are watching," she murmured, and her voice had dropped low and musical. "Good. Keep watching. That's the whole show." She stepped closer to you with the beat, swaying, and stopped a hand's width away, her chest rising and falling faster now, her pigtails drifting slow beside her flushed cheeks. "I want you to sit, please. On the floor, against the mirror." She sank down into a slow squat, then climbed onto your lap, hovering with her knees braced either side of you. "Tell me you liked it," she said softly, her lips close to yours. "Tell me you enjoyed the show." She continued to roll her hips, the warm heat of her body putting pressure on your cock through your pants.

Wednesday had ended in the studio with Aki straddling your lap against the mirror, her hips rolling in slow waves while her striptease still lived in the air between you. She sank down over you with her eyes locked to yours, riding with that same belly dance motion until her rhythm faltered and her head fell back, her pigtails drifting limp and her voice rising in a melody that broke apart at the end. She had stayed wrapped around you afterward, humming, asking how she did, and kissed your cheek in thanks.

Thursday found you crossing the old dormitory building at the edge of campus, past a storage wall that had been cordoned off for repairs with a single strip of tape. A plume of blonde hair and two small boots poked out from a hole in the plaster at hip height, and the body between them twitched at the sound of your steps. "Ah. Hello. I didn't hear you come in." Mel's voice came muffled from the far side. "I'm not stuck. I'm just... investigating" One boot flexed and the boot in front of you kicked uselessly. "I dropped my juice through this hole and I thought I could reach it. My upper half is on the other side of the wall now. I would like very much to be one piece again."

On her side of the wall, Mel pressed her cheek to the cool plaster and let her eyes fall half shut. The first male student. She had heard the whispers all week through the halls and through the thin walls of Dorm 2, and she had not been able to stop thinking about him, about the way his voice sounded when he said her name at the door, warm and patient. Her family in the Underworld had taught her that usefulness was the only love she was given, that being wanted meant being needed without doubt, and she had searched for that hollowness her whole life. The juice bottle lay on the floor out of reach. It was almost an excuse. She pressed her hips back against the empty space of the hole and made her choice. Today she would let him take her exactly as she was, trapped and dripping and needed, and she would not ask for anything else.

She went still for a moment, the plaid skirt bunched up over her hips, and when she spoke again her quiet voice was steadier than the situation deserved. "I'vr been thinking about you all week. Matsuri came home glowing and would not say why. Haato kept calling it nothing while her ears were red. I'm not as clever at guessing as Aki." Her hips shifted slightly against the plaster, and the pale gold fur between her thighs brushed the edge of the hole. "I am stuck in a wall, so I can't be shy right now. You don't have to be gentle with me. I'm not as fragile as I look. I would like to be used. I don't need to see you. I only need to be filled." A small warm press of her hips pushed back into the empty space. "You can use me as much as you want. And if you need to use me again later, I'll still be here. It is the one advantage of being a dump." Her muffled voice barely cracked. "Ah. That sounded strange out loud. I mean it, though. Please, do not hold back. Empty yourself as you please. That's what I'm for."

Thursday had ended at the storage wall with Mel's upper half trapped on the far side and her lower half presented through the hole, her plaid skirt hiked up over her hips. You filled her from behind first, her muffled moans rising through the plaster while her boots kicked at nothing, and when you pulled out and walked around the wall her amber eyes were wet and bright with bliss. She opened her mouth and swallowed you down while her slick dripped cooling onto the floor, afterward she stayed there, quiet and content. You came back later that same day and used her again, and she pressed her hips back into the hole with a soft sound that was almost a greeting.

By Friday the week had stacked up behind closed doors, and Matsuri cracked first. "Okay okay okay, everybody stop," she said from the middle of the Dorm 2 common room, whistle in her fist. "I have been holding this in for four days and I am going to explode. I had him Monday. In the gym. I folded myself in half on the mat and he just... kept going." Haato's teacup stopped halfway to her mouth, her ears going red. "You too?" she said shrilly, and the room went still. "He ate my cooking. I ate his cum. Off of a sandwich." Aki's pigtails drifted apart, stunned. "He watched me dance, then I danced on his lap" she breathed. Mel folded her hands in her lap and said, very softly, "He found me in the wall. I was a very useful dump." A beat, then all four of them turned at once, and Matsuri threw her head back and laughed loud enough to rattle the fairy lights.

"A wall?" Haato snapped, twisting in her chair, her twintails whipping around. "You let him use you in a wall? What if someone had walked by?" Mel drew her pillow tighter against her chest and her voice came out small and steady. "That was the part I liked." Aki turned her head slowly, a beat off the others, her floating pigtails drifting lazily on either side of her face. "So the whole week, all of us, and nobody said anything?" She smoothed her fringe with a gloved hand, and the corner of her mouth curved. "That is very funny, actually. We're terrible at secrets." Matsuri slapped both palms flat on her knees, bounced once, then swung around to face them. "So it's decided, right? We are all already doing it. Why take turns like it is a chore wheel? One night. All four of us. He doesn't stand a chance." Haato crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "You cannot simply schedule a man like an event." She paused, and her ears went pink under her twintails. "What time?"

Matsuri yanks the door open before you knock twice and nearly takes herself off her feet doing it. She's already talking. "Hey hey! You came, you actually came, I told them you would come!" She has on an orange crop top cut so high it barely covers her small perky breasts, the pale brown nipples all but peeking past the hem every time she bounces on the balls of her feet, and her pleated skirt sits so low on her hips that a strip of tan belly shows above and the heart shaped trim of hair below is one wrong bounce from view. She grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, then lets go and turns a full circle with her arms out. "We voted. You don't have to be polite tonight. Whatever you want, however you want it, say it out loud and it happens."

Haato is already seated on the bed with one leg crossed high over the other, and she's gone all in on her own recipe. Her white blouse hangs open to the fourth button, the F cups pushing the fabric apart so her pale pink nipples show at the edges, and the blue skirt is hiked to where her thighs meet. "Do not stare like that," she says, tugging her cuff, and the tips of her ears go red. "It's not for you, it's to prove a point. Matsuri said I was too much of a prude to commit." She lifts her chin. "I committed."

Aki is on the chair, leaning back, her cyan dress off both shoulders and gathered at her waist so the full heavy sway of her chest is bare and moving with every hum. Her floating pigtails drift on either side of her flushed cheeks. "Aloona," she says, and her voice is soft and certain. "I dressed for a performance tonight. I expect to be looked at before anything happens." Then she nods toward the corner and her pigtails swing with the motion. "But she won."

Mel kneels on the floor beside the bunk bed with her hands folded in her lap and nothing on at all. Nothing. Her G cup breasts settle heavy against her thighs, the pale rose nipples drawn tight, and the fair skin of her hips and stomach is bare under the pink fairy lights. She does not cover herself. "A dump does not need clothes," she says, quiet and even. "I am ready. You can use me however you need, and if you want to use me again after, I will still be here." She lifts her head and her amber eyes find yours. "Where would you like us?"