Chapter 3

It was hard to see the faint reflection of her face in the window against the windblown cypresses, perpetually cloudy sky and vaguely threatening cyber-Flamboyant-Gothic structures. Amy Kalnia studied it closely anyway while students around her near-silently shuffled past her to turn in their quizzes to Miss Rhea. What looked back was not quite familiar, and every new detail refocused her attention on the ghostly image, from the newly refined cheekbones to the deepening of her already striking eyes to something approaching International Klein Blue. That wasn't a color that had been in her vocabulary before class, but Rhea had just given one hell of an hour's crash course in 20th century art, from Klein to Klee to Macke, from Braque to Derain to Vlaminck. She'd been a pretty damned good student back at the Hive, but fuck if she hadn't internalized every word of the lecture. If there was one beneficial effect of the anomaly, it was the awesome razor-sharp mental acuity she now felt, as if she'd never forget another word, another sight, another taste.

And there were many kinds of taste to remember in this weird world. The inexplicable but not unexpected slight metallic taste in the air, as if emphasizing the artificiality of the place. The haute cuisine served at every meal; no choice given but always different from her neighbors and always perfect. The slightly tangy taste of her roommate's honeypot when she had yielded on her first night, unwilling but reluctant to display her resistance lest Julia let it get around that her roommate was some weirdo who didn't want to munch her carpet, and once she started she just couldn't stop, in so many positions, on the floor, and they found some toys in a dresser, and finally collapsed in exhaustion hours later as the moon shone serenely through the blinds.

It's when she woke up the next morning that she really started to notice the changes. They were subtle in most ways: a slight facial realignment, some skin airbrushing. But it was hard not to notice the extra cup size or the two inches in height. And the changes had continued, slowly but surely, the next day and night. And even now she looked different than she had a couple of hours before in the mirror. It was hard to remember how weird it was if she didn't keep reminding herself. There was a sort of muddle that followed her around, and it just kept coming back no matter how many times she used the mushin technique -- it tried to convince her that she had looked the same way all along, and that everything was normal; it attacked her memory, her only point of comparison in a world where everyone had a porn-star figure. Even the snapshots in her luggage changed as she did. She remembered a sort of light-headed feeling when she noticed that, as if the universe was beginning to go out of sync.

A vague unplaceable feeling of change brought her out of her reverie to face forward rigidly like a good student and take stock. She heard no more faint shuffling of feet; the sea of about three dozen people surrounding her on three sides, of wildly varying hair colors and identical black-and-white well-filled-out uniforms, was still around her. At the front of the room, Miss Rhea was quickly and efficiently grading the quizzes and entering the scores into the laptop in the front of the room. The moment she finished, a student at the front of the class, with watermelon-green hair cut in jagged waves, languidly extended her tall frame to full height.

Her name was Sydney, she was this classroom's prefect, and she had a reputation for cruelty. Amy had gained that much from subdued pre-class conversation -- all of which had stopped when Sydney entered the room. But it was only now, as the prefect eased her way behind the desk toward Miss Rhea, that Amy got a good look at her. Of course the girl was, like everyone else around her, strikingly beautiful. But it was just as obvious from her fashion choices -- from the black lipstick to the studded bracelets -- that she was not to be trifled with. Prefects could ignore the dress code; instead of the tiny grey-white plaid skirt that Amy and her classmates wore, she sported leather hot pants to show off the most coveted benefit of her position. Her cock was clearly huge, and clearly straining against the fabric. The part of Amy still in control of herself, still tied to her own upbringing and sense of rightness, felt revulsion at the sight. But the part that was uncontrollably aroused was far deeper and more basic. If Sydney wanted to use that tool on her, Amy wouldn't merely be playing along.

Sydney motioned for Miss Rhea to get up. The teacher didn't have a choice: she was outranked. Amy had learned the details earlier that morning in orientation. The prefect couldn't interfere with the class for the first hour and a half, while the teacher lectured or gave examinations. The teacher was expected to take some liberties during that time -- groping, slapping, and so on -- but also had to finish the lecture, and even then she couldn't touch the prefect. For the last hour of class, and for the rest of the day, the prefect had absolute authority over every person in the class, including the teacher. In the absence of the prefect's orders, the teacher had the same authority over the other students. But a cruel prefect -- and Sydney was one -- could control that authority. Essentially, Sydney had two dicks: one on her own body, and one on Miss Rhea's.

And, clearly, Sydney knew it. She reached underneath Rhea's crimson skirt -- an easy reach, as the muscular teacher, for the sake of image, towered over all the students by at least a foot -- and pulled that cock out, long and thick. She idly stroked, massaged and painfully squeezed it, drawing gasps and moans in various registers. Bored with that, she moved her hand up to grope the huge tits encased in the teacher's too-tight sweater. Then she embraced Rhea, pulled her close, and brought her head down for an aggressive kiss, her own cock brushing against Rhea's. Sydney played with the teacher for several minutes, while the class remained still and silent: nobody wanted to be the first to incur the prefect's wrath, or even her notice.

But, inevitably, she was going to select someone. Breaking the kiss, Sydney cast her eyes briefly across the class. She nodded, pleased with her selection, before anyone could tell who it was. An odd chill went down Amy's spine: would it be her? She supposed the shudder, fearful yet anticipatory, was collective. At least the prefect spoke to Rhea, in a surprisingly soft but still authoritative voice.

"The brown-haired girl in the second row?"

"Julia, miss."

"Bring her up here. Rudely."

The Darkbitch sighed in carefree pleasure, warm water lapping at her feet, as she descended another step down the ornate marble staircase that led into her new, massive indoor pool. Her arms were wrapped around the waists of two much taller beauties, each of whom would become a prefect in a few hours. On the left was Tsadi, the dark-skinned, elegant girl who moved with a catlike grace. Opposite her was the lushly voluptuous form of the sky-blue-haired Kaia, whose infectious smile and sexual enthusiasm were fast making her the Darkbitch's favorite.

She gazed out at the crowd of nearly five hundred girls, who had been let off from school to tend to their Goddess and to celebrate the completion of this first room of the gargantuan new Black Palace. A few dozen of these were prefects, whose angry cocks either rested sideways in their tiny bikini bottoms or stood flat against their chests, which led a couple of them to start giving themselves tit-fucks. Most of the girls were clustered in groups of two to five, pleasuring each other but not forgetting to face the Darkbitch and help give her a panoramic show.

Closing her eyes, the Darkbitch began to fall to one side. Effortlessly she guided Kaia's body with her mind so that she fell straight into the sinking blue-haired girl's massive mounds, floating just above the water. In perfectly synchronized motion, Tsadi sunk lower on the other side, lifted the Darkbitch's tiny black bikini top and embraced her rapidly expanding dick below the water with her huge caramel-colored tits. As Tsadi's goddess moaned in seething pleasure at the delicious friction, her angry cock shot inches above the surface. Tsadi leaned forward, pressing her tits more firmly against the girlcock, and swirled her tongue around the angry head lightly, as if trying a too-cold ice cream cone.

There was a soft rumbling noise as a small part of the pale, violet-tinged marble wall, about a third of the way down from the entrance behind the Darkbitch, began to swing on its axis. A solitary figure stepped through, her hardening cock stretching out from under her beige desert-camouflage bikini bottom. Absurdly tall and well-muscled, her imposing stance, hands on hips and chest thrust out, served to draw attention to a supercharged pair of knockers that balanced her musculature with equally impressive pornified femininity. Her hair was long, perfectly straight, silky and beautiful, black with just a hint of a blue or violet tinge; her face was youthful, cute -- the upturned nose, for instance -- and sexual, especially the bright red, puffy, smirking lips, inviting, but to a place you might want to think twice about visiting. But something about the facial structure, and certainly her demeanor, radiated poise and authority.

"How goes it, little Aki mine?" The Darkbitch smiled wider, taking in the lovely vision of her general without bothering to open an eye. She sighed and relaxed into the soft, wet breast-pillows supplied by Kaia.

"I am happy to report it, my Goddess. The exterior facade is constructed, and several dozen rooms, including many bedrooms, are finished. We are working well ahead of schedule, and should be essentially finished by the time of tonight's prefect ceremony. I should no longer need to supervise the workers in person, although I will, of course, keep in check mentally."

"Awesome. Come over here and join me, then. Kaia, Tsadi, go 'way for a bit; Akiko and I need some alone time."

"Thank you, my Goddess."

Miss Rhea, stoically obeying the harsh prefect, lifted Julia, Amy's unresisting roommate, out of her seat and dragged her by one arm to the front of the room. Julia's chestnut-brown ponytail jerked wildly as the muscular teacher swung her this way and that, sending the cute, freckled girl's giant tits bouncing erotically in her black lacy uniform top. Sydney, turning to face the girl, shoved one of Julia's slender, creamy hands, the nails an eager bubblegum-pink, into her own pants. Sydney then brought her own hand, nails a shiny black and adorned with gleaming studded rings, to stroke the side of the girl's face in mock adoration. Abruptly, but deliberately, she pressed one of the sharp studs against Julia's face and scratched a large, bloody arc into the flesh, eliciting a loud scream.

Amy blanched in horror and sympathy. Whatever further pain Sydney had planned, Amy wished it were for anyone else, even herself. In this strange place, denied access to her sister, her friends and everything familiar, Julia had become an anchor. She had initiated her into the pleasurable side of this world without making her feel threatened. But her new best friend was being treated like a toy, like a piece of meat, by the cruel prefect. But, all the same. Sydney was her prefect, and she could do what she wanted. It was her right, the natural order of things, and all Amy could hope for was to please the Darkbitch enough to earn that job one day.

She refocused her attention on the scene in front of her. Sydney had turned toward the students and put her hand over her mouth, feigning dismay at the "accident" that everyone in the room knew was deliberate. Suddenly she swung back around to Julia, who was crying lightly, but still trying to smile in obedience, and still with her hand in Sydney's shorts.