She portalled my balls for her sorority sisters
Disclaimer as per rules: Story was written with the help of a chatbot (NaughtyPortals) that handles the mechanics and story-telling about the portals, but I cleaned it up and rewrote sections.
Hallie was the kind of girl who apologized to furniture. Devin had loved that about her for almost two years now, the way she said sorry to a chair if she bumped it, the way she folded into herself in big rooms. So when she came home from chapter that Thursday with pink cheeks and a small white box and asked, in that voice she used when she really wanted something, if he'd try a thing with her, he was already saying yes before she finished.
"It's a portal pair," she said. She set the box on the bed between them like an offering. "You know. The sticker things. Mia uses them with her boyfriend."
He knew. Everybody knew. Two flexible patches, one connection, whatever went in one came out the other, sized to whatever you wanted them sized to. There was a ring in the box, thin as wire. The hand wearing the ring was the only hand that could move the patches or peel them off. No ring, no take-backs.
"Where?" he said.
She bit her lip. Looked at his lap. Looked at him through her lashes.
"Down there. Just to play around a bit," she said. "I'll wear the ring. You don't have to do anything. I just, I want to try being, you know. In charge. A little."
He laughed. Then he saw she wasn't joking, and the laugh turned into something hotter in his stomach. Hallie. In charge. Hallie who couldn't send back a wrong order at a restaurant.
"And," she added, quieter, "the girls have been asking if I'd ever, like. Share."
"Share what."
"You. A little. Just teasing. Nothing real."
He should have asked more questions. He didn't. He let her peel his boxers down and pull the first patch out of the box. It was the size of a coaster, weightless, limp as a wet contact lens. With the control ring on her finger, she pinched the edge of one patch between two fingers and stretched. The patch grew the way a soap bubble grows, taking whatever shape her hands gave it, until it was wide enough to swallow his whole groin. She lowered it over his cock and balls in one smooth motion. It passed over him like he wasn't there. When she lifted her fingers away, the patch stayed exactly where she'd left it, a flat soft shimmer hanging across the front of his hips, and his cock and balls were simply gone from view. In their place was a smooth dark shimmer, like an oil slick following the curve of his body.
The first hour was good. Genuinely good.
She fixed the second patch flat to the inside of a shoebox lid, then set the lid on the comforter between her spread knees, patch-side up. His cock and balls came up out of the cardboard like they'd grown there, fully present, the lid making a neat little platform around the base of him so every angle was reachable.
He felt her thumb circle his head. Felt her lift his balls in her palm and bounce them, testing the weight. She edged him three times. By the third he was babbling.
Then she stopped. Looked at him sidelong, considering. There was something thoughtful in her face, almost rehearsing.
"I want to try something," she said. "Tell me if you hate it."
She brought her palm down on the underside of his sack, light, almost polite. He jerked a bit and grunted. His cock kicked in her other hand.
"Oh," she said softly. Surprised at herself, surprised at him. "Oh, you like that."
"Yeah."
"You'd let me do that again."
"Yes."
She did it again, a little harder. He groaned. Her eyes went somewhere far away for half a second, calculating.
"Okay," she said. Half to him. Half to herself. "Okay. Stay there. I'll be right back."
She kissed his forehead. Placed the lid onto the shoe box, hiding his cock inside like a lunch she was packing. Tucked the whole thing under her arm.
"Hallie."
"Just an hour," she said. "I promised them I'd show. It'll be fun! I'll be careful."
The door clicked shut before he'd finished sitting up.
The sorority house living room smelled like vanilla candles and white wine. Hallie set the shoebox upside-down on the coffee table, pulled the box away, and tried not to look at the thing protruding from the lid.
The girls leaned in.
"Oh my GOD," Sasha said, hand over her mouth. "Hallie. Hallie. That's really his?"
"He can feel everything?" said Brynn. Brynn was the chapter's social chair and had eyes like a cat that had already decided. "Like. Everything we do."
"Yes," Hallie said. Her voice came out smaller than she meant. "But he agreed. He knows you might play with him a little. It was the dare. I did it."
Margot, sitting on the arm of the couch, wasn't smiling. Kiera, on the floor with a White Claw, was. Tatum was already up off the loveseat, drifting toward the kitchen, saying, "Hold on, hold on, I have an idea."
Sasha went first. Tentative. She reached into the box and flicked the side of his sack with a fingernail, the kind of flick you'd do to a balloon to see if it popped, and squealed and yanked her hand back like the cock might bite.
Devin jolted on the bed.
where r u what was that
Three dots. Long pause.
just at the house babe. one sec
He stared at the shimmer between his legs. Ran his palm over it. The surface gave back nothing, smooth and cool and slightly off, like running his hand across a screen. There was nothing to grip. Nothing to cover. Nothing to pull away and protect.
Another flick. Sharper.
hallie
what r they doing
"Do it harder," Brynn said. "He can't even tell who you are."
Sasha flicked again, harder, and the cock on the cardboard twitched, and all four girls made a noise in unison, half horror and half delight.
Kiera went next and didn't flick. She wound up and slapped, open palm, across the whole package. The smack was loud. The cock bounced. Hallie flinched.
"Kiera."
"What? You said he likes it."
"A little."
"Okay so a little." Kiera slapped it again, grinning. "Hi Devin."
The second slap rocked Devin into the mattress. He whined out loud in the empty apartment. His hands hovered over the shimmer with nowhere to land.
hallie pls pls answer that hurt
A long pause. Then:
sorry baby. ur doing so good
He stared at the message and waited for her to say she was coming home. She didn't.
He tried to stand up. Got as far as the bedroom doorway, hunched and sweating, and then someone decided to test her grip. Fingers closed around his balls and held, just held, until his vision pulsed white at the edges.
He went down to his knees on the carpet.
Tatum came back from the kitchen with a wooden spoon.
"Absolutely not," Margot said.
"Light," Tatum said. "Just for the bit."
She tapped the spoon against the head of his cock first, like a conductor checking a baton. Then she brought it down on his balls, a real swing, without a care in the world that another human would have to experience the result.
The crack made Hallie's whole body lock.
"Tatum."
"He's fine, look at it, it's still bouncing."
Margot got up and walked out of the room. Hallie watched her go and didn't follow.
Brynn took the spoon. Brynn was meaner with it than Tatum had been, more deliberate, choosing angles. She held his cock up out of the way with two fingers, exposing the underside of his sack, and tapped the spoon against it three times, light, light, hard.
The hard one made the cardboard lid jump.
Kiera disappeared down the hall and came back with a wide wooden hairbrush. She turned it over, flat side up, weighed it in her hand, and brought it down on his balls in a single clean swat that sounded like a slap on wet skin. Sasha, emboldened, grabbed a plastic ruler off the side table by the printer, and started tapping out a fast little rhythm on the head of his cock, tap tap tap tap tap, like she was bored in class.
Then Brynn went upstairs.
When she came back down she was holding a leather paddle, thick and heavy and clearly bought for her own bed, and she set it on the coffee table between the wine glasses without a word. Kiera said, "Oh my god, Brynn." Brynn shrugged like a girl who had been waiting all year for an excuse.
The thing about a room full of girls who've had three drinks and permission is that the floor keeps lowering.
Sasha stopped using the ruler and started slapping with both hands, a quick patty-cake rhythm on his sack that made the other girls laugh until they couldn't breathe. Kiera worked the hairbrush in slow, considered taps that built into real swings. Tatum was double-fisting wooden spoons.
Brynn picked up the paddle.
She didn't swing it hard. She didn't have to. She thudded it down across the full spread of his balls in steady, patient strokes, every three seconds, metronomic, the way you tenderize meat, and the cardboard rattled on the coffee table and the cock kept twitching and the girls kept screaming with laughter.
Margot reappeared in the doorway, arms crossed, mouth tight. She watched for a full minute. Then she walked over, knelt by the box, and said, "I'm not doing that."
"Boring," Kiera said.
"I'll do my own thing." Margot wrapped her hand around the cock, and started stroking. Slow. Careful. The cock thickened under her fingers within seconds.
"Oh my god, Margot."
"What? He likes it. Look at it. This is nicer."
It wasn't nicer. It was worse. Hallie understood that, even if Margot didn't. Every time Margot slowed, Brynn or Kiera or Sasha got bored and went back to work.
Stroke. Slap. Stroke. Paddle, thud, thud, thud. Stroke. A full swing from Tatum that made even Brynn wince.
Hallie sat on the couch with her hands in her lap and watched the boy she loved get worked over a coffee table by four of her friends.
She rehearsed the words. Guys, that's enough. She practiced them in her head while Brynn lined up another stroke. The words didn't come. They never did. They hadn't come out when her mother criticized her major, hadn't come out when her advisor reassigned her thesis topic, hadn't come out at any single point in twenty-one years of her life, and they were not coming out now.
Her phone buzzed.
pls pls hallie pls i cant
She looked at the portalled package.
Margot was stroking again. The cock was flushed dark and slick at the tip. Devin, a mile away on a carpet he couldn't get up from, was past the point of forming sentences. Hallie understood, with a clarity that felt almost peaceful, that this would not end on its own, and that she could not be the one to call it out loud.
There was only one way to end this without ending it.
She slid down off the couch and onto the floor next to Margot.
"Let me," she said softly. "I know how he likes it."
Hallie wrapped her hand around her own boyfriend's cock, on a shoebox lid in her sorority's living room, and she used everything she knew. The exact pressure under the head. The exact little twist at the top of the stroke. The exact tempo.
She picked up her phone with her free hand and tapped out one line.
baby it's me. come for me. i've got you.
On the apartment floor Devin felt the hand change.
The hand had his rhythm. He sobbed once into the carpet because the phone was right there in front of his face and the message said it's me and i've got you, and through the panic and the throbbing wreckage of his body he understood that Hallie had finally come for him, Hallie was finally going to stop it.
He came on her cue, through the shimmer between his legs, his hips jerking up off nothing, his body convulsing on the carpet, and through the muffled veil of the connection he heard, half a city away, the rising shriek of four sorority girls who had been waiting for exactly this.
"OH MY GOD HE'S COMING."
"GET HIM, GET HIM, GET HIM."
The paddle came down first. Brynn, on a fresh-spent sack, while his cock was still kicking through the last of it in Hallie's hand. Then the hairbrush. Then Kiera's fist, full force, on the underside. Then both of Tatum's spoons, alternating, like she was playing a drum. Sasha came in with the ruler, snapping it across the head of his cock again and again, light fast cracks that he couldn't have separated from the bigger blows if he'd tried.
It lasted maybe forty seconds.
It was the worst forty seconds of his life and he understood, somewhere underneath the noise his body was making, that he had come for her, and she had let them have him for it.
When Brynn finally sat back, breathless, flushed, glowing, and said, "Okay, okay, okay, we're done, oh my god, that was insane," Hallie was still holding him in both hands, cupped, like she was protecting him, knowing she wasn't. Tears ran down her face and the girls thought she was laughing.
Brynn put the paddle down. Picked it back up. Looked at Hallie.
"Again?"
Hallie opened her mouth. Closed it. Set his softening cock back down on the cardboard, very gently, and pulled her hands away from the lid.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "Okay."
