Cligue
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Learning Curves 4
🕑 Added 2025-06-15 15:57:47 +0000 UTCI was cooking dinner that night when Kara came into the kitchen. I was wearing the same skirt as yesterday and was preparing the large salad that Kate had recommended I eat. Kara came in and said, “Wow, that looks good.”
“Thanks! It was one of the things we talked about cooking today in class.”
Kara smiled and then handed me a bag, “Do you mind cooking this for me too?”
I opened the back and found a fairly large steak.
I was confused and looked at it and then her, “I thought we were… on vegetarian diets?”
She smiled, “You might be, Mike. But we’re doing intense work in those classes so I need lots of protein. I’ll have it medium please.” And with that she turned away and walked out. I noticed, as she walked away in her jeans and t-shirt, that she had a new bulkiness to her. She already had muscle but was filling out in new ways and seemed even bigger than just a week ago.
I was surprised to learn that Kara was eating steak while I was on a diet of nuts, legumes, vegetables and fruits. I had to admit that I’d been feeling the effects of my lighter diet – where she looked bigger, I was slimming and I felt a little more alert and like I had more energy but I also felt, well, hungry. I will admit that my stomach growled a little looking at the steak but I had Kate’s instructions in my mind and I wanted to impress my new teacher by sticking to the regime. I did as I was told and cooked the steak.
When we sat down to eat, Kara sank into her chair at the table and her new size was evident. I had, of course, noticed her size before but now her shoulders were rounder and her arms had pronounced veins where her muscles were developing. Her collarbone looked pronounced and her neck had veins too – she was changing into someone even stronger than before. She still had her feminine curves but she looked firm and thick, much stronger than me.
She must have sensed me appraising her growing muscles as she caught my eye and then talked about how in her physical class they had engaged in lots of weight lifting so that’s why she needed steaks. I was about to say that we did the same thing but she explained that they were bench pressing upwards of half their body weight. I was stunned – it hadn’t quite struck me that the girls in the class were doing a different workout regime than the boys but now it was all becoming clear.
“I guess I assumed that we were all doing the same kind of exercise.”
Kara explained, “No, that’s not the point. It’s about enabling women to attain new levels of strength while men see the value of their feminine side.”
“So… it’s like the boys are being feminized while the girls are getting stronger?”
Kara smiled, “Are you just realizing this now? What did you think the class was about?”
I thought for a second, “Well about equity and making everyone the same.”
“You need to do your readings more carefully. Equity isn’t about making everyone the same, it’s about redressing past wrongs and giving opportunity where there hasn’t been opportunity before. Professor Stanton believes that women need muscle, strength, and self-confidence in order to have opportunities. Likewise, she believes that men need to be smaller, weaker, and more obedient.”
I was watching her eat her steak and salad as she explained this as I ate my own portion of salad. “I didn’t sign up for that! I don’t want to be smaller.”
Kara looked at me carefully, “Do we need to pretend, Michelle? This is an opportunity for you to live out some of your fantasies, to be in a class that preaches the very thing that is your secret fantasy.”
“Fantasy is one thing… but come on. Kara. This is a bit much. I think I’m going to drop the class.”
She put down her knife and fork and stared at me before speaking forcefully and deeply: “No, you’re staying in the class.”
Her voice was so authoritative and convincing, I felt my dick move in response to her command.
“Come on Kara…” I said weakly.
“Look at me.”
I looked up from the plate and met her gaze. Her power was evident and I felt a yearning desire to obey.
“Michelle, have I steered you wrong up to this point?”
She waited for me to reply. “No.”
“And haven’t I guided you properly over the past few weeks?”
“Yes.”
“Michelle, do you respect my authority?”
Her eyes were bearing down on me. My resistance was melted and I just wanted to succumb to her will, do do anything she asked.
I paused before saying, “Yes…”
“Then you’ll do as I say?”
“Yes…”
“Then you’ll stay in the class. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Kara.”
“Good, Michelle. Now come over here.”
I obeyed her command and walked over to her and stood alongside her. She cut another piece of meat while I stood there, ate it, and then pulled me to her. I didn’t resist, not that I could’ve anyways, but simply allowed myself to be pulled onto her lap. She then positioned my head so that it was resting against her neck. I felt like a child in her embrace.
She was wearing her short shorts and I was in my skirt. I could feel the muscles in her legs and the strength of her torso. Her body radiated a kind of heat and her thighs were like plates of muscle. My legs were soft and thin compared to hers and my waist was significantly smaller. I felt like a tiny, feminized doll sitting in her embrace. Her breast pressed into my side and the combination of muscle and female sexuality was intense and overwhelming. Somewhere in my mind I remembered that Kara had once been the girl next door and now here I was being held in her arms. I had no choice but to yield to her power.
“Do you see why you should obey me, Michelle?”
“Yes, Kara” I whispered heavily.
She looked down at me as she held me in her arms. I felt like her small girlfriend, slim and weak in her arms. I could feel her strength on either side of me. I was surrounded, cowed, and controlled by her strength and it felt so right.
“Michelle, I don’t want to have to convince you every step of the way. I want to you to embrace this new role, this new version of you as submissive, feminine, and obedient.”
I was breathing heavily and was so aroused in this position. I looked up at her: the combination of her dominance, her muscles, her sexuality. It was too much.
“Yes…”
She stood up, cradling me in her arms as she did so. She held me so easily, I was so light to her, and she moved across the kitchen.
“Good, Michelle. Now, can you admit that Kara knows best, that Kara is stronger and more in control and that you agree to obey her from now on.
“Yes, Kara. You know best. You’re stronger. You’re in control.”
“Kara knows best, doesn’t she Michelle?”
My cock was rock hard in my panties and I’m sure Kara could feel it. Her words pressed the buttons of my fantasy. This felt both so wrong and deeply right: I could feel the contrast between us, her powerful, muscular body and my weak, feminine, slender figure.
“Yes, Kara. You know best.”
“And you’ll do what I say?”
I looked up into her commanding eyes and melted. “Yes, Kara.” My dick was rock solid and I’m sure she must have noticed. My heart was racing and my face was red with desire.
She smiled, holding me in her arms. “Tell me,” she said.
“Kara, You are in control. I obey you and do what you say. You’re so powerful and strong and I’m such a weak girl in your arms.”
“I know sweetie,” she said. She smiled and looked down at me and I wondered if she was going to kiss me. I looked into her eyes with a yearning desire, a desire to be fucked. I would have done anything she wanted then. My desire was boiling and I would do anything to please her.
She did kiss me, but only on my forehead and I was left yearning, yearning for her to take me. Instead she put me down in the kitchen, placing me on my feet.
“I’m glad we got that sorted out. Now I don’t want you fighting me every step of the way. We agreed that I know what’s best, so when I make decisions for you, I expect you to agree. OK?”
“Y—yes, Kara.” I was lost in lust and found that I had to steady myself against the oven to avoid falling down.
My head was spinning and my mind was lost as I was pulled in multiple directions at the same time. I looked at her again with yearning eyes: even in the few days of being in the class, she’d already begun to exude a new level of strength. Her rounded shoulders appeared more firm, I could see definitive calve muscles and the veins in her neck were more pronounced. She looked rock solid and I wanted to sink to my knees and worship her strength with my lips. I wanted to get softer, weaker, smaller, if only to show her how much bigger, more powerful, and dominant she was.
But there was also something more significant even if it was less apparent. It may have been the class, the experience of our living together, her regime of strength building and my regime of stretching and learning to be agreeable – but there was a new dynamic in our lives, a dynamic of her dominance and my obedience.
This 19 year old girl was treating me like a child, holding me in her arms and commanding me, controlling my life. She had completely taken over my capacity for decision making and, if I was honest, I loved it. She was becoming my goddess, entering my mind, becoming the voice of control, authority, and reason that I knelt before in my psyche, my desire, my dreams.
She interrupted my inner monologue with an abrupt, “Good. Now, I’m going to take your credit card and order you more skirts and tops. You can’t keep wearing that same skirt everyday.”
I was about to protest before I looked into her eyes, saw her determination, and said, “Yes, of course, Kara.”
She smiled and turned away. I was still so turned on that I quietly went into the bathroom and pulled my rock hard dick out of my skirt. I had been on the edge of orgasm so many times today, and felt completely ensnared in a web of lust that I had to masturbate. I ran the tap so as to hide any noise, but I was sure Kara knew what I was doing.
I came in less than 30 seconds in a heavy, hot orgasm as my mind was thinking about her muscles, her power, her dominance. How I yearned to worship her, to have her touch me. I came to a vision of myself in lingerie, in her arms, her looking up, her rock solid abs shining with sweat, her firm, perky breasts, her thick arms. I came in waves and quietly whimpered like a girl.
The next morning I got up and went back to my morning class with Kara. We walked together and had a nice conversation. She casually mentioned that she had bought me a series of skirts, androgynous tops, yoga pants, and girls jeans. I remembered the night before so just said, “Sounds good.”
When we arrived at the class we said bye and I got changed and went into Kate’s class. I caught a glimpse of Professor Stanton leading the women to their workout and she was dressed in tight black biker shorts and a cut off white t-shirt that amplified her muscles. She was ripped: her legs and arms looked like a crossfit athlete, layered with muscles. She had on a red sports bra under the shirt but I could see her two breasts, and thick nipples, pointing out of the front of her t-shirt. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one whose eyes lingered over her amazonian presence as she moved across the room. If Kara was becoming something new it was clear that it was some version of Professor Stanton: commanding, powerful, authoritative.
Where Professor Stanton was stern and curt, Kate was gentle and welcoming to the boys. She ran a session similar to the first except we spent the majority of the time working on our flexibility and doing back bridges. She was warm and encouraging and while there was a lot of stumbling, and difficulty, but eventually I started to loosen up and I was amazed how, after just a few sessions, how wide I could open my legs and how flexible I was feeling.
Kate also gave a lengthy explanation of the kind of transformation that we’d be experiencing over the course of the semester and explained the justification for these transformations.
“As you’re learning from the readings and the Professor’s lectures, part of this class is about building equitable relationships. The next step in the class involves being partnered with a group of women, supporting them, and learning from their experience.”
At the end of the session I was feeling quite loose and a little bit tired but good. We continued like this for the next few sessions and within about ten days my flexibility was amazing – I could do a full splits, … I wasn’t building up strength but I had an ability to open up my body in ways I previously never could. In a weird way it was starting to feel normal to wear these pink workout one piece outfits, to stretch our bodies out along the canvas of the mats and to contort our legs and backs into new positions.
It was at the end of the session that we visited the women’s training and there was a strange dynamic as we boys left our workout space, walked through the changerooms, and entered the women’s gym.
It had become clear to all of us that while we had been spending the time becoming more flexible, the women had been engaged in serious strength training and the results were already showing. There were ten of us guys and as we entered the gym, we were all collectively appraised by the women and intimidated by the clanging of weights and the strength that was on display. They hadn’t really seen us before in our one pieces and the assignment of gender roles was obvious. The women were all shapes and heights but it was clear that they were developing strength. This was only our third week but I could see that the women’s shoulders were rounding, their backs were getting stronger and there was noticeable definition in their arms. The women who were already in good shape were now starting to look positively muscular and intimidating. They looked comfortable amongst the weights whereas I felt like a lamb among wolves as I appraised their biceps, their strong legs, and the sweat dripping off their bodies. My slender legs were in such contrast to their powerful bodies and I felt weak and small.
As I approached the 'D' group, a woman named Stacy looked me over with a critical eye, taking in my slender frame and the way my pink workout leotard clung to my body. She stepped forward, her large breasts bouncing slightly with the movement, and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "You're with us," she said, her voice a mix of challenge and authority. It was clear that she was the leader of this group.
Stacy was taller than me by about an inch and her muscles were tight and strong: her biceps bulged beneath her short sleeves and her legs looked like they could crush a watermelon. She wore her blonde hair in a messy ponytail that swished as she moved and she was an erotic combination of feminine strength.
"Let's get started, shall we?" she said, her voice a purr that sent a shiver down my spine. She didn't ask, she commanded, and I found myself eager to please her. She began telling me how to assist the women with their exercises. It was my job to hold their ankles, to make sure they didn't lose balance, to be at their service as they worked out. And as I watched Stacy bark orders and show off her newfound strength, I felt a strange sense of excitement and submission wash over me.
Her breasts pressed against me as she came up behind me and demonstrated the correct way to hold another girl’s leg. I felt her large breasts pressing into my back along with her taut muscles: she was so much stronger than I ever imagined a girl could be, and it was intoxicating.
"Now, hold it right there," she snapped, her voice firm and unyielding. "You're going to help me with this, okay?"
“Sure.”
She pulled her body tighter to me and I felt squeezed by her.
“When I ask you something, you say, Yes, Stacy.”
"Y-yes, Stacy," I replied weakly.
She pulled away and, with a smirk,
With a smirk, she bent over, placing her hands on the mat in front of her and sticking her ass up in the air. "Hold my ankles," she said, her voice a demand.
I obeyed, gripping onto her powerful legs as she began to stretch. Her muscles bulged and she groaned with satisfaction as she pushed herself deeper into the pose. I was in awe of her, of her strength, her confidence, her beauty.
As the class continued, Stacy made sure to include me in all her activities, treating me like one of her own. She had me fetch water bottles, hand her towels, and wipe down the equipment when she was done with it. She had clearly taken charge of the group and was instructing me to help the other girls in their exercises. I could feel the other women watching us, their eyes appraising and amused by our dynamic.
At the end of the session, Stacy put her hand on my shoulder again and whispered into my ear, “I want you to come by my dorm later this week, say Thursday.”
I felt my dick move as I envisioned having sex with this dynamic and dominant young woman.
She must have guessed my thoughts because she looked at me and laughed a little, “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetie. You couldn’t handle me. I’d break you in half. No, I just want you to come over to clean my apartment.”
She gripped my upper arm with her hand and squeezed. “What do you say?”
“Yes, yes, Stacy.”
“Good boy” she said and walked away.
I looked up and noticed that Kara was watching because she walked over to the weights, made eye contact with Stacy and then came up to me. Stacy looked at her with a grin and then walked away.
Kara led me out of the gym and into the changing room, her hand on the small of my back, guiding me. The other women watched us go, some with smirks, others with a look of curiosity. I was still dressed in my pink leotard, feeling more vulnerable than ever. I went into the change room and changed into my ‘boy’ clothes, unable to shake the erotic charge I felt when I was in Stacy’s grasp.
Later that night I was home doing homework and Kara came into my room. We were both dressed casually – I was in one of the short skirts and a blouse that Kara had picked out and insisted I wear around the house. Kara was in black jeans and a tank top and I could see just how much her shoulder muscles and biceps had grown. She looked like a crossfit athlete, with clear muscular definition across her upper body. The experience of our previous encounter immediately heightened my arousal.
This class was changing everything about our lives, turning her into an amazonian young woman and turning me into a submissive, weak young man. Part of my brain felt that this was just temporary but another part of me knew I loved being surrounded by these powerful women than I never wanted it to end. I felt a yearning desire to submit to their bodies, their strength, their power. I looked up at Kara with the kind of pouting look Kate had talked to us about. Open your eyes wide like you might cry, stick out your lower lip just a bit and silently stare – all to communicate your submission. According to Kate this was part of signaling to women that you didn’t pose a threat.
“Michelle, I wanted to talk to you about what happened today.”
“Sure, what part?”
“Well, about Stacy.”
“OK. What about her?”
“Well, I think you should steer clear of her. She’s pretty manipulative and I don’t think she has your best interests in mind.”
Should I tell Kara about what Stacy had said to me at the end of class? I wasn’t sure.
“Well, she seems OK. And, to be honest, I kind of like the attention.”
Kara's eyes narrowed. "It's not about what you liked, it's about what's best for you. You need to focus on your schoolwork and not get distracted by a girl like that."
I paused, surprised at Kara’s aggression concerning this. I started to wonder if she was a little jealous?
“But, she might not be so bad. Maybe she’s OK.”
"Michelle," she began, her voice firm but gentle, "I need you to understand something."
“Stacy is bad news. Keep away from her.”
I was silent, looking up at her, my eyes wide and my face mimicking the submissive, docile look I had been taught.
"In fact, you're not allowed to date anyone."
I was confused and panicked and I could feel my heart sink. "What? Why?"
"Because I don't want anything to distract you from your growth. You’ve already shown that you can’t handle distractions and you’re doing so well. I need to ensure that you keep on track.”
Play submission was one thing but this was something completely different – this woman, this girl, was threatening to control who I was dating!?!
“But, Kara…” I struggled to find the words that would communicate any sense of assertion within myself, “but part of going to college to meet people.”
She looked down at me, “Yes, but I’ll decide if you’re meeting someone who’s right for you or not. Think of me as your protector in this regard.”
Still… this wasn’t right. I continued my argument: “But, what about, a girlfriend? Or something?”
She smiled, “Oh, honey. Do you think you’re going to find a girlfriend at college, dressed as you are, acting as you are?”
I hadn’t thought of this. Surely, she wouldn’t…
“What will you tell them when you want to bring them home? Sorry, but I have to put on my skirt because my roommate insists I play the part of a girl when I’m home?”
My cheeks burned furiously red as her words brought the reality of my situation crashing down on me.
I tried to interrupt but she continued, She continued, “If you brought a really nice girl home maybe we could share her? Maybe we could ask her who she’d want to be her boyfriend, you in your skirt and blouse, or me?” and with that she flexed her bicep above my head. It was massive, bigger than a baseball and the veins in her arms demonstrated her incredible strength.
“Who do you think she would prefer to be her man, to take care of her and protect her?”
My heart was racing and my face was red. I knew my neck was red too from blushing but also from the erotic power of the scene that Kara had created. I felt so weak, so controlled and so feminized. My weakness, her bulging muscles, her knowing smile. Yet it also felt so right.
I replied with a weak whisper “But, what about…”
Her eyes bore down on me, “Yes, sweetie, what’s that?”
I couldn’t say it but I had to. My dick was rock solid and I was sure Kara could see. I was so turned on. I had to. “What about, sex?”
I felt so erotically emasculated, asking this young muscular woman whether I could have sex. She owned every dimension of my life so completely that I was now asking, politely, with my pouted lips and doe eyes, if I could have sex.
She smiled and walked over to my bed. “Come here Michelle.”
She looked a vision of power and strength. I could see her taut thighs pressing against the fabric of her jeans. Her shoulders were square and strong and her breasts were small but perky. She was a goddess calling me to her. I followed her command.
She pulled me onto her lap and I could feel the contrast between us: my weak, soft torso and her iron-like grip and firm body. My dick was throbbing in my panties.
“You need sex, is that it?”
I looked at her with a pleading, submissive look?
“Do you need me to take care of your sexual needs?”
I was panting with lust and desire.
“Yes, please Kara.”
“And then you’ll be a good girl?”
She slid my head into the crook of her neck and I was lying prostrate along her powerful body.
“Yes, please.”
She put another hand on my ass, reaching up my skirt and squeezing my ass firmly.
“Do you want Kara to be your boyfriend?”
“Yes, Kara.”
“Say it.”
“Please, Kara. Please be my boyfriend.”
“Why should I?”
“Please, Kara. Please be my man. Protect me and take care of me and I’ll be your good girl. I’ll do everything you say like a good girl.”
She smiled and reached under my skirt to grab my dick through my panties. I felt her warm, strong grip on my throbbing cock and she began to pull it firmly as she put her mouth on mine. Her tongue invaded my mouth and I instinctively wrapped my lips around it. She shoved it in and out of my mouth before pulling away.
My dick was rock solid and I was on the verge of orgasm as she stopped.
“Say, Stacey’s a cunt.”
I was panting, “Stacey’s a cunt.”
“Say, I belong to Kara.”
“I belong to Kara.”
“Say, Kara is my man.”
“Kara is my man.”
“And, I’m Kara’s girl.”
“I’m Kara’s girl.”
“When you come, Michelle, I want you to moan like a girl. Can you do that?”
With that she masturbated me furiously and I moaned in my most porn star, submissive slut voice that I could. I moaned and screamed, “Please fuck me Kara. I’m so weak, I’m your girl.” In less than ten seconds I exploded in her grasp, my body writhing with sexual release. I felt load after load of hot cum fill my panties as I shouted with orgasm.
As I collected myself, I felt a mixture of satisfaction and shame at what had happened. I looked up and Kara was still smiling as she held me in her embrace. She let go gently and I slid to the floor in front of her. She then proceeded to remove her jeans, stood up for a second and slid down her black silk panties and then sat back down on the bed revealing her hairy pussy. Her legs were thick and clearly strong – my eyes traced the contours of her muscles to her crotch. I heard her say, “now it’s my turn,” she said and she guided my face into her wet pussy.
I placed my two delicate hands on either side of her thighs and braced myself against her strength as I licked and licked. She bucked against my face, grinding her already wet clit into my mouth. I worshipped her sex and I could hear her getting closer and closer to orgasm. In little time, she came hard and fast and I tasted her wet ejaculate in my mouth. She moaned and moaned as I continued to lick her before she finally moved away.
She looked down at me and I looked up from between her thighs, giving her once again the submissive, doting look that was becoming more and more common.
“Well done, Michelle. We’ll need to make that a regular part of your duties. Now, you agree, that you’re done with that cunt, Stacy”
“Yes, Kara. Whatever you say.”
“Good girl. Now go and get cleaned up and get started on dinner.”
