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BloodRedRomeo
Supernova
- Joined
- Oct 11, 2017
Neil Phillips wasn’t exactly what one would consider a super model. Or a regular model. Or a guy who would be a background member of a group shot in a Kohl’s catalogue. He wasn’t ugly, but he was far more average than most would dream about. He was tall, almost six foot two, but had thick glasses and a decent sized gut that he couldn’t really hide. He wasn’t all the way into fat territory, but he was certainly overweight. He had pale skin that betrayed his more in doors oriented lifestyle. And before anyone asked, he was a virgin.
Still, it’s not like he was dissatisfied with his life. He was twenty years old and excelling in college. He had a knack for programming and was excelling in his university’s computer science program. He had friends, a supportive family, and a bright future. So he didn’t really have too much to complain about, even if he wished he could add “loving, smoking hot girlfriend” to that list of people.
He had just gotten back to his apartment after class. It had been an easy day and he had finished up his current project. So he went to do what was his current fascination. He had always had dominant sexual fantasies, and he had recently stumbled upon a website for deviants like himself. It was small, and not really designed for anything beyond just posting on forums, but it was fun. People talked about their desires, their experiences, and so on. It was a bunch of noncommittal fun, and it was the best substitute he had st the moment for an actual sex life.
He was doing the usual. Reading through the threads he followed, checking out some new interesting ones, even making a post or two himself. He even saw a picture that one incredible looking girl had posted of herself, though there was no face and she was completely dressed. Still, with body like that along with such a suggestive caption about treating her like property, it really got the blood pumping. But before he could do anything, his eyes noticed something in the background of the picture. The girl had tried to remove anything that would suggest her identity, but small things had gotten through. Nothing that most people would notice, but Neil wasn’t most people.
It had been the spine of a book on her shelf. Innocuous, and no one would look that closely at the multicolored surface. The photo was too low quality to show any words. But he knew that spine. After all, he had been on the yearbook committee on his senior year. He had been the one to the submit the design. He knew that book spine. Suddenly, the girl began to seem very familiar.
He began to do some cyber-sleuthing, though some may call it cyber-stalking. He found every post this user had made, looking for all the posts she had made. A few of them were ones he had seen before, most were new, but little details began to jump out at him. They were all drawing him to one conclusion. It was so obvious, it was practically painful that he hadn’t noticed it right away in the first picture. He knew this girl. How could he not? After all, she was the girl he had spent half of high school crushing on. Even more incredible, every post she made spoke of her need to submit, to be controlled. “Isabel,” he said softly to himself in disbelief.
They had been friends in high school, meeting after becoming lab partners in science class. They had gotten along and remained friends even after the semester ended. They hung out, but never really went anywhere. After all, she was way out of his league. So he had never tried anything. After they went to college, even though they were on the same campus, they sort of just drifted apart. Their most meaningful contact over the past year or so was occasionally “liking” another person’s status on Facebook. But this? This changed everything.
He could have taken his time. By all reasonable thought processes, he should have taken his time. But he was too eager. He needed to do something now. If he didn’t, he might literally explode or, far worse, end up doing nothing. So he began typing a message to her.
Hey, Isabel. It’s been too long. I was just thinking how long it’s been since we last hung oug. Midterms just ended for me, so my classes have cooled down. How would you feel about meeting up sometime for lunch?[/u]
God, he wished he was cooler. Still, the harmless image she probably had of him would work in his favor here. Once they met, he’d make an offer. He hit send and leaned back in his chair, smiling at the- shit, had he left a typo in there? Seriously? How did he misspell a word in a message that short? Dammit autocorrect!
Still, it’s not like he was dissatisfied with his life. He was twenty years old and excelling in college. He had a knack for programming and was excelling in his university’s computer science program. He had friends, a supportive family, and a bright future. So he didn’t really have too much to complain about, even if he wished he could add “loving, smoking hot girlfriend” to that list of people.
He had just gotten back to his apartment after class. It had been an easy day and he had finished up his current project. So he went to do what was his current fascination. He had always had dominant sexual fantasies, and he had recently stumbled upon a website for deviants like himself. It was small, and not really designed for anything beyond just posting on forums, but it was fun. People talked about their desires, their experiences, and so on. It was a bunch of noncommittal fun, and it was the best substitute he had st the moment for an actual sex life.
He was doing the usual. Reading through the threads he followed, checking out some new interesting ones, even making a post or two himself. He even saw a picture that one incredible looking girl had posted of herself, though there was no face and she was completely dressed. Still, with body like that along with such a suggestive caption about treating her like property, it really got the blood pumping. But before he could do anything, his eyes noticed something in the background of the picture. The girl had tried to remove anything that would suggest her identity, but small things had gotten through. Nothing that most people would notice, but Neil wasn’t most people.
It had been the spine of a book on her shelf. Innocuous, and no one would look that closely at the multicolored surface. The photo was too low quality to show any words. But he knew that spine. After all, he had been on the yearbook committee on his senior year. He had been the one to the submit the design. He knew that book spine. Suddenly, the girl began to seem very familiar.
He began to do some cyber-sleuthing, though some may call it cyber-stalking. He found every post this user had made, looking for all the posts she had made. A few of them were ones he had seen before, most were new, but little details began to jump out at him. They were all drawing him to one conclusion. It was so obvious, it was practically painful that he hadn’t noticed it right away in the first picture. He knew this girl. How could he not? After all, she was the girl he had spent half of high school crushing on. Even more incredible, every post she made spoke of her need to submit, to be controlled. “Isabel,” he said softly to himself in disbelief.
They had been friends in high school, meeting after becoming lab partners in science class. They had gotten along and remained friends even after the semester ended. They hung out, but never really went anywhere. After all, she was way out of his league. So he had never tried anything. After they went to college, even though they were on the same campus, they sort of just drifted apart. Their most meaningful contact over the past year or so was occasionally “liking” another person’s status on Facebook. But this? This changed everything.
He could have taken his time. By all reasonable thought processes, he should have taken his time. But he was too eager. He needed to do something now. If he didn’t, he might literally explode or, far worse, end up doing nothing. So he began typing a message to her.
Hey, Isabel. It’s been too long. I was just thinking how long it’s been since we last hung oug. Midterms just ended for me, so my classes have cooled down. How would you feel about meeting up sometime for lunch?[/u]
God, he wished he was cooler. Still, the harmless image she probably had of him would work in his favor here. Once they met, he’d make an offer. He hit send and leaned back in his chair, smiling at the- shit, had he left a typo in there? Seriously? How did he misspell a word in a message that short? Dammit autocorrect!