“It’s about time you showed up, freshman. You’ve missed every meal this week.” Maeve stated in an accusing tone, “Did you not want to spend time with your seniors?”
All eyes at the table turned in Linhart’s direction. The senior girls were the strongest Fighters at the Academy, but their styles and body types were just as varied as the girls in the younger years. From a girl the size of Raxar, to the diminutive Ami. From a flat-chested girl, whose muscles were bulging, to the lean body of Maeve, whose tits were the only things bulging, any one of these girls could snap him in two without trying.
Zoey looked over and her mouth dropped open. “Linhart,” she exclaimed, dropping the swatter on the head of a wiry-haired senior. She gasped and apologized, snapping up the swatter once more and flicking it at a cloud of flies that persistently circled the food. Thankfully, she was not wearing an ID bracer and Linhart felt some of the tension leave his body.
Looking around at these powerful girls, Linhart felt a strange haunted horniness settle over him. Physically, these girls way out of his league, but they were all waiting for him to say something, as though he had some secret they wanted to hear. He imagined himself saying any number of provocative things and this group of girls would rip his clothes off and have their way with him. That would be a good way to die.
“I- I- I’ve been busy…” he croaked, regretting his lack of confidence immediately. These girls were lions who eat weakness up, and he was coming off as a lamb.
It was the high nasal voice of Ami that saved him. “You know he’s been tied up in the recovery center, you stupid bitch,” she snapped, “It’s Linhart’s first day out for a week, so give him a break.”
“Yeah, wasn’t it you saying that you’ve been ‘monitoring his progress’ while he sleeps just the other day?” another girl snorted.
“Shut up!” Maeve’s face turned as red as her hair, “I just meant that he needs to formally meet us again, now that he’s awake.”
“Agreed,” a heavy-set girl with shoulders the size of an ox said in a slow, deep drawl, “Why don’t you introduce yourself formally, and don’t forget your honorifics, freshman.” Linhart could feel the other girls deferring to her as she spoke. He suspected that she was highest Scoring Fighter at the table.
“Yes, Senior,” he replied stiffly as he snapped to attention. Formal introductions were a staple ritual of the Midday meal and this girl was giving him a chance to make up for his initial awkwardness. “My name is Linhart Aetherion, and I am a freshman here at Nexus Academy, my dear seniors. I wish someday to become an elite Fighter in the Eryndor Military, just like my valued seniors will become before me. I hope to learn lessons from each of you before you move up, so that I could someday become as skilled and masc… feminine as you, my beloved seniors.”
He ended with a deep bow that, because his shirt had been all stretched out today, showed off his hairless chest to anyone siting in front of him, but he did not dare stop bowing, for fear of being labelled disrespectful. He had been forced to memorize that introduction verbatim in his previous world, except he had to change the word masculine… did he just wish to be feminine like them? Anyway, he hoped that the girls of this world would find it to be sufficiently respectful.
“That’s enough bowing, freshman,” the low-voiced brunette directed. Linhart stood up straight and found that all eyes were laser focused on him. Many of them seemed more focused on his chest area. Even Zoey, who had dropped her switch again, was staring. “My name is Altheia Laconis, and... goodness of the gods… that was the best introduction I’ve heard from any freshman this year.”
“Yeah…” other seniors agreed, clearing their throats or fanning their faces.
“I liked the part where he bowed,” the wiry-haired girl said, handing the switch back to Zoey.
“Why don’t you join us for some food, freshman?”
“You look like you’re ready to fall over from hunger…"
"Maeve tells us they’ve been feeding you nothing but conjured soup all week. Have some lamb…”
“Wait!” Maeve said forcefully, rising to her feet. Her face was so red that her freckles had faded, and her chest was pumping from excitement. “He can’t sit until he’s been hazed… it’s tradition!”
“Oh come on…” Ami started to argue, but Altheia raised a finger and she cut off.
“She’s right. He needs to serve as we all have before him… it’s tradition.”
Maeve nodded and gestured for Linhart to make his way around the table. “Come here, freshman. I have a bad neckache and am in need of a massage.”
Linhart walked around the table, trying his best not to bump into any of the seniors. As he passed by Zoey, he gave her cute little ass a pinch bringing a squeal to her lips. The seniors were all watching, but he was no longer a member of the conversation. For them, it would be dishonorable to talk to him or even acknowledge his presence while he had a task to perform. He became just another freshman taking care of their needs.
When Linhart reached Maeve, she settled back in her spot on the bench sandwiched between two much bigger girls. “Do my shoulders first, and use all your strength…” she ordered in a low voice.
“Yeah, I know that you like it hard…” Linhart muttered under his breath, as he dug his fingers into her beautifully formed shoulders.
The girls had picked up an earlier conversation that Linhart had interrupted. They were all ignoring him now, except for Maeve who was surprisingly sensitive around her neck area, and Ami who was sitting directly across the table from them. Her beautiful dark eyes contrasted with her porcelain skin, and she watched the massage impassively with the cool smoldering anger of a wildfire that was about to ignite.
Two seniors that Linhart had never met were leading the conversation. It seemed they were the only people at the table who had been present at Mentor Hour today. “So, almost all of the freshmen passed the Bracer Ceremony requirements, with a few exceptions. That brother and sister combo that have been losing in the ring all week, they’re both out.”
“Good riddance.” Many at the table echoed this sentiment.
The other girl picked up the narrative, “A few of the boys who, even after a week’s practice had no wrestling skills at all, are out!”
Everyone at the table was glad to hear that.
Linhart was listening carefully, enjoying the fact that he was no longer being scrutinized, he pressed and prodded Maeve’s neck and shoulders and ran his fingers all the way down to her finely-sculpted shoulder blades, seeing what reactions he could elicit. A few times, when he squeezed a particularly sensitive spot, she would freeze or shudder in delight. Soon she was sitting quietly, leaning back against his body, her big breasts heaving as she breathed deeply. He couldn’t stop himself from stealing glimpses down her deep, freckled cleavage, and Linhart found himself in trouble. His dick was growing bigger, so much so that it was poking into Maeve's back. Perhaps she hasn't noticed it?
“Honestly, why do these boys even join the class, if they’re not prepared to fight?” one girl asked angrily.
Many girls agreed with that statement.
“Yeah, even the junior boys who are good at Fighting don’t use holds and grapples,” another complained, “They say that Quan uses magic in the ring.”
A general grumbling against that, and many of the girls drew symbols in the air to ward off evil. Linhart was not surprised to see that, even in this world, Fighters were suspicious against magic-users.
“We need to lobby for boys to be forbidden from joining the class,” another girl exclaimed, “Just like the Strikers did.”
“We are not like the Strikers,” Altheia intoned, putting an end to that idea.
“Plus, Fighter boys are good for some things…” Maeve interjected the words into the conversation with an erotic tone. Everyone turned to look at her. She smiled and pushed back against his erection, “They give really good massages…”
“Well that freshman has been massaging you for a while,” Ami snarled, the jealousy obvious to everyone, “Send him over here, so he can massage me next.”
“He’s not done here yet,” Maeve retorted, “My chest and back are aching as well, and they can use his delicate touch. Why don’t you go get another Fighter boy to massage your shoulders, Ami.”
“Get your head outta your ass, Maeve,” Ami exclaimed, jumping to her feet now, “You know talking to the boys at the front table means expulsion, you bitch!”
“Well then, you’d better wait for one of them to wander over then,” Maeve replied with a self-satisfied look on her face. Ami looked ready to throw punches.
“Ami, you know the rules… no fighting at Midday meal,” said Altheia calmly. “Why don’t you and Maeve settle this in the Pit after the first bell?”
“I’m on security duty at the Hall again,” pouted Ami.
Maeve seemed to be enjoying driving Ami crazy. Everyone at the table had now picked up on the vibe that both seniors wanted the attention of this freshman. Maeve’s hands went to the trim of her tank top. In one fluid motion, she whipped it up over top of her head, her heavy round breasts bounced firmly on her lean torso. She looped the tank top around Linhart’s head and pulled him down towards her face, bringing complaints from all around the table.
“Maeve, don’t gross him out!”
“That’s not what the freshmen are for!”
The girls on either side of Maeve reached to stop her and to free Linhart from the tank top. Maeve was grinning and panting like a dog in heat. Chaos was about to erupt at the table, when Altheia, the top senior, stood up and established order again.
Still the level-headed one, she declared, “Maeve, for the first time this year, a boy deigned it fit to visit our table and introduce himself to his seniors, and you choose to disrespect him…”
“I’m sorry, Altheia,” Maeve began, just now figuring out that she had overstepped her bounds, “I didn’t mean anything by it. My chest has been bothering me lately, so I thought a boy's massage would relieve some stress.”
“Well, boys don’t do that sort of massage…” Ami countered, but Linhart’s voice cut through what she was going to say.
“I don’t mind.”
The table fell quiet as Linhart’s voice cut through the noise. Everyone looked at him once more, so he felt obliged to repeat himself.
“I don’t mind giving her a chest massage,” he stated carefully choosing his words, “As a freshman, it is my job to serve my seniors.”
