The campus was a blur as my mom's car pulled away. My duffel felt heavy, but the weight in my gut was worse—a hollow, gnawing thing. I hadn't eaten in three days. Not a crumb. The doctor called it a psychological break. I called it clarity.
The house loomed, a beautiful Victorian sorority house, all ivy and wide porches. Theta Alpha Gamma. My new home. My mother's alma mater. She'd pulled strings, said it would be "good for me." She had no idea. No one did.
The door swung open before I could knock.
"You must be Ethan. Welcome." The voice was a low, smooth alto. She filled the doorway. God, she filled the doorway. At least six-foot-two, shoulders that strained the fabric of a tight white tank top, sculpted quadriceps visible beneath tiny black shorts. Her blonde hair was tied in a severe ponytail, highlighting a sharp, beautiful jaw. Her smile was warm, but her blue eyes held a predatory glint. "I'm Sloane. House Captain. Come in."
The foyer was grand, but all I saw was her. The powerful lines of her body, the confident sway as she led me inside. A scent hit me—clean sweat, coconut shampoo, and something else. Something musky, primal. My mouth watered. My stomach cramped, not from hunger, but from a deeper, more specific need.
"We've been expecting you," Sloane said, her gaze sweeping over my thin frame. "Your mother said you've been… unwell. We'll take good care of you here."
She led me to a common room where two other women lounged. Both were cut from the same glorious cloth as Sloane—tall, athletic, breathtaking. One had dark skin and coiled black hair, doing bicep curls with a dumbbell that looked heavier than me. The other was a redhead with freckles dusting her shoulders, stretching her long legs on a yoga mat.
"Chloe, Remy, this is Ethan," Sloane announced. "Our new… resident."
Chloe, the one lifting, set the weight down with a soft thud. Her eyes, dark and assessing, traveled the length of my body. Remy just smiled, a slow, knowing curl of her lips.
"Cute," Chloe said, her voice like velvet wrapped around stone.
"He looks hungry," Remy purred, not getting up from her stretch, which did incredible things to the fabric of her leggings.
My face burned. I was always hungry now. But not for food. Never for food again.
"Why don't I show you to your room?" Sloane's hand landed on the small of my back. It was huge, warm, possessive. A jolt went through me. She guided me up a broad staircase, her presence overwhelming. I could feel the heat radiating from her.
The room was small, simple. A bed, a desk, a window. Sloane leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed. The pose made her biceps bulge. My eyes were drawn helplessly to the front of her shorts. There was a… bulge. Not large, but definite. A soft, rounded outline against the grey fabric. My breath hitched.
"You know what this house is, don't you, Ethan?" she asked, her voice dropping.
I could only nod, my throat tight.
"Good. It makes things simpler." She pushed off the doorframe and took a single step into the room. The space shrank around her. "We have certain… biological needs. The girls here… we're special. And we require a special kind of… sustenance for our companion."
My heart hammered against my ribs. Companion. Such a clean word for what I knew I was. What I wanted to be.
"I… I understand," I whispered.
"Do you?" She took another step. Now I could smell that musk more clearly, rich and potent. It was coming from her. "Your file says you've refused all solid food. That you have a… fixation."
"It's not a fixation," I said, the words tumbling out. "It's all I can think about. It's all I want. I dream about it. I wake up tasting it." The confession left me trembling.
Sloane's predatory smile returned, wider this time. "Show me."
"W-what?"
"You're hungry. I can see it. The shaking. The pallor." She reached down, and with a deliberate slowness, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and panties. She pushed them down just enough.
My knees went weak.
Her cock sprang free, already half-hard. It was magnificent. Thick and long, a pale, velvety column against her golden tan. It curved slightly upwards, the head a flushed, plum-colored crown, already glistening with a bead of translucent fluid. Veins traced its length, promising a powerful pulse. It was the most beautiful, most correct thing I had ever seen.
"This is what you need, isn't it?" she murmured, stroking herself slowly to full, breathtaking hardness. It had to be nine inches. Maybe ten. "This is the only thing that will fix that hollow feeling inside you."
A whimper escaped me. I fell to my knees on the hardwood floor, the impact jarring but meaningless. My world had narrowed to the potent, musk-scented reality of her erection, bobbing mere inches from my face. Saliva flooded my mouth.
"Go on," she commanded, her voice gentle but absolute. "Your first meal is served."
I didn't need to be told twice. My hands came up, trembling, to cradle the base. The skin was hot, so hot, and silken smooth. I leaned forward, my lips parting, and took the broad, leaking head into my mouth.
Flavor exploded on my tongue. Salty, slightly sweet, deeply musky—the essence of her. The taste was richer, more complex than any food. It was life. I moaned around her, the vibration making her hiss. I pushed forward, taking more, my throat relaxing in a way it never had before, as if it had been designed for this sole purpose. I could feel the thick vein on the underside pressed against my tongue.
"Good boy," Sloane breathed, her hands coming to rest on my head. Not forcing, just guiding. "Take it. Get your fill."
I began to move, bobbing my head, sucking with a desperate, starving need. My nose pressed into the crisp blonde curls at her base, inhaling her scent deeply. My own arousal was a distant, secondary throb—this was about sustenance. About finally, finally filling the void. Her pre-cum flowed steadily, a creamy, delicious nectar I swallowed greedily.
Her hips began a shallow, rhythmic thrust, fucking my face with growing intensity. "That's it… swallow it all. You exist for this, Ethan. To be our sweet little dump. To live on what we give you."
The words seared into my soul. They weren't an insult; they were a revelation. Yes. This was my purpose. My reason for being. To kneel, to serve, to consume.
Her grip tightened in my hair. "I'm close. Open up. Take your nutrition."
I pulled back until just the swollen head rested on my tongue, my mouth wide open like a begging chick. Her cock jerked in my hands. With a low, guttural groan, Sloane came.
The first jet was a hot, thick rope that hit the back of my throat. It was heavier than I imagined, creamy and abundant. I swallowed convulsively. The second spurt painted my tongue. The third, fourth, fifth—a relentless, pumping flood of her essence. I drank it down, each swallow easing the cramps in my stomach, spreading a warm, sated glow through my limbs. It was more satisfying than any feast. She grunted above me, her powerful thighs trembling as she emptied herself into my waiting mouth.
When the pulses subsided to a trickle, I diligently licked her clean, sucking gently at the slit to catch every last drop. Her cock softened slightly in my mouth, a spent, beautiful thing.
I sat back on my heels, breathing heavily, my lips slick and shiny. I felt… nourished. For the first time in weeks, the gnawing emptiness was gone, replaced by a warm, heavy fullness.
Sloane tucked herself away, looking down at me with an expression of pure, dominant satisfaction. She ran a thumb over my bottom lip, collecting a stray pearl of cum and pushing it back into my mouth.
"Welcome home, Ethan," she said, her voice soft. "The girls will be so pleased to meet you. Remy's been saving up a load for two days. She's very backed up."
As she turned to leave, she paused at the door. "Oh, and Ethan? The tap water here is terrible. Don't drink it. You won't need it. We'll provide everything your body requires."
The door clicked shut.
Alone, I crawled to the bed and collapsed, the taste of her still on my tongue. I curled around the warm, sated feeling in my gut. Downstairs, I could hear the low murmur of feminine voices, a peal of laughter. My new life had begun. I was their dump. Their vessel.
And I was finally, completely, full.
------X------
The warm fullness in my gut from Sloane's offering was already fading, replaced by a fresh, sharp hunger. It hadn't even been ten minutes. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my tongue tracing the inside of my mouth where the ghost of her salt-sweet essence lingered. A soft knock at the door made my heart stutter.
"Come in," I croaked, sitting up.
The door opened, and Remy filled the frame. She'd abandoned her yoga mat. Now, she wore only a pair of loose, grey sweatpants slung low on her hips, and nothing else. Her coppery hair was down, a fiery cascade over her freckled shoulders. Her breasts were full and heavy, tipped with pale pink, and the defined muscles of her stomach flexed as she leaned against the doorjamb. Her smile was less knowing now, more hungry.
"Sloane said you were settled," she murmured, her green eyes devouring me. "She also said you did a very good job. Are you ready for your second course?"
My mouth was already watering. I nodded, unable to speak. My eyes dropped to the prominent bulge straining against the thin sweatpants fabric. It was larger than Sloane's soft outline had been, a thick, unmistakable weight.
Remy didn't wait for more invitation. She stepped inside and closed the door with a quiet click. The room seemed to heat up instantly with her presence. "Two days," she sighed, palming herself through the fabric with a grimace of need. "It gets… painful. Aches. You have no idea how grateful I am you're here."
She walked to the center of the room and, with a single smooth motion, pushed the sweatpants down her powerful thighs. Her cock sprang out, already fully, devastatingly erect.
I choked on air.
It was thicker than Sloane's. Not as long, perhaps, but the girth was insane, a veined, ruddy column of flesh that curved upwards proudly. The head was a deep, flushed red, swollen and leaking a steady stream of pre-cum that dripped onto the floor. Her balls, heavy and full, hung beneath it like ripe fruit.
"See what you have to work with?" she said, her voice husky. She fisted herself slowly, a drop of pre-cum clinging to her thumb. "Sloane got her taste. Now it's my turn. On your knees, Ethan."
The command sent a shiver of pure bliss through me. I scrambled off the bed, my knees hitting the hardwood with a thud I barely felt. I crawled the short distance to her, my gaze locked on that magnificent, dripping cock. The musky scent of her was overwhelming, earthy and potent. It smelled like need.
"Hands behind your back," she ordered.
I immediately clasped my wrists at the small of my back, presenting myself completely. This was my purpose. To be used. To be fed.
"Good boy." She stepped forward, the heated tip of her cock brushing my lips. "Open."
I obeyed, letting my jaw go slack, tilting my head back. She didn't guide me slowly. She pushed forward, the broad, slick head parting my lips and immediately stretching my mouth. I gagged instinctively, tears springing to my eyes, but I forced my throat to relax. This is food. This is life.
She filled my mouth completely, the thick shaft pressing against my tongue, crowding every inch. I could feel every pulsing vein. Then she began to move. Short, sharp thrusts that fucked into my mouth with a relentless rhythm. My nose was buried in the auburn curls at her base, inhaling her deeply. Saliva and pre-cum dripped from my stretched lips.
"That's it… take it," she grunted, her hands coming to rest on my head, her fingers tangling in my hair. Her hips pistoned faster. "Swallow what I give you. This is all you get. This is all you are."
The words melded with the overwhelming physical sensation. The stretch, the heat, the taste of her salty pre-cum flooding my tongue. I moaned around her, the vibration making her hiss. My own arousal was a distant thrum, secondary to the profound, gut-deep satisfaction of being used as her vessel.
Her thrusts became erratic, brutal. She was close. I could feel her cock swell even more in my mouth, the veins throbbing against my tongue.
"Gonna fill you up," she warned, her voice guttural. "Don't you dare spill a drop."
With a final, deep shove, she hilted herself in my throat and came.
The first spurt was a hot, viscous flood that hit the back of my throat with the force of a punch. It was so much thicker than Sloane's, creamier, almost gelatinous. I swallowed convulsively, but she was already pumping another rope, and another. It was a torrent, a geyser of her essence, relentlessly filling my mouth. I gulped, choked, gulped again. My jaw ached from the stretch, but the nutrient-rich warmth spreading through my chest and belly was euphoric.
Remy groaned, a long, shuddering sound of release, her thighs trembling as she emptied two days of built-up pressure into me. The pulses seemed endless, each one a heavy, satisfying deposit. When they finally slowed to a trickle, she held herself there, letting the last few drops seep onto my tongue.
Slowly, she pulled out. I gasped for air, my lips slick and swollen, strings of cum and saliva connecting my mouth to her softening, glistening cock. I instinctively leaned forward, my tongue darting out to clean the slit, sucking gently to get every last bit.
She sighed, a sound of deep relief, and stroked my hair. "Perfect. Just perfect. You have no idea how much better that feels." She tucked herself away, looking down at me with a sated, dominant glow. "You're a natural, Ethan. A perfect little dump."
The praise warmed me more than the cum. I sat back on my heels, feeling heavy, nourished, complete. The hollow ache was gone, replaced by a sloshing, warm fullness.
The door opened again. Chloe stood there, having changed into just a sports bra and tiny shorts. Her dark eyes swept from Remy's satisfied face to my cum-smeared one. A slow smile spread across her full lips.
"I see the new appliance works," she said, her voice like dark honey.
"Like a dream," Remy purred, heading for the door. "He's all yours. I need to hydrate." She gave me a wink. "See you at dinner, Ethan."
Chloe stepped into the room as Remy left, closing the door behind her. She was even more imposing up close, muscles coiled with restrained power. She looked at the damp spot on the floor, then at me.
"On your feet," she said.
I stood, my legs shaky. She circled me, an apex predator assessing prey. Her finger trailed along my jaw, collecting a stray drop of Remy's cum. She brought it to my lips.
"Lick."
I did, my tongue swirling around her fingertip. The taste was still there, layered now with the faint salt of her skin.
"Sloane fed you from her cock. Remy fed you from hers," Chloe mused, stopping in front of me. Her hand went to the waistband of her shorts. "I think it's time you learned where the real meals come from."
She pushed her shorts down, and my breath left me in a rush.
Her cock was different. It was a shade darker than her skin, long and perfectly straight, a lethal-looking spear. But it was the head that captivated me. It was huge, a pronounced, mushroom-shaped crown that flared out wider than the shaft, glistening with so much pre-cum it looked dew-covered. It was intimidating. Beautiful.
"This," she said, gripping the base, her thumb smearing the copious fluid, "is a protein shake. And you're going to drink every last drop. But not from my hand." Her eyes gleamed. "You're going to get it straight from the tap. On the floor. On your back."
My pulse hammered. I'd never… but the thought of it, of being pinned beneath her, of having that swollen head aimed at my mouth…
"Do you want your dinner, Ethan?" she asked, stroking herself slowly, a fresh bead of pre-cum welling and dripping.
"Yes," I breathed, already sinking to the floor, laying back on the hardwood. "Please. I'm so hungry."