Linhart's dark mood followed him into the Theater of the Sun Princess. He had that vulnerable feeling again, like he no longer had control over his own life. He had worked so hard, but the Stratega Mage had broken down all his efforts in just one night.
Without looking up, he could sense that his harem girls were already here. He didn't feel like facing a barrage of questions, so he passed by where he usually sat with Serapha. Instead he crossed the stage floor and sat down next to Giselle. He had a longing for a sense of security, and that was something Giselle had always provided for him. She was his peaceful port in a stormy sea.
The busty blonde frowned as he plopped down next to her, and she put her arm around him. “Tough morning?” she asked, knowing damn well how crappy he felt.
“Yep.”
“Wanna feel my boobs?”
She was already unbuttoning her shirt. Even in the state he was in, the sight of her tight shirt opening and her huge melons popping out sent a surge of excitement through him. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips as his hand found its way to her breast. The low moan that she released, as he kneaded her areola with his thumb and forefinger, sent the darkness over his heart running.
Serapha stomped over a minute later. She was filled with concern and jealousy. “You okay, Linhart?... You need something from me, too?”
Before he could even reply, she had her shirt open and was holding his other hand up against her chest. Her breasts were tiny in comparison, but he liked the desperation with which she clung to him… like he was the most important thing to her.
“Hey, he chose me today,” Giselle growled.
“He started feeling better since I got here,” Serapha sniffed back. “I’m still his favorite.”
“I'm feeling much better, thanks to both of you,” Linhart said, giving a small laugh. He enjoyed watching them vye for his attention, as long as they weren’t hurting each other.
“Hey, I’m here too!” Ayame chimed in from right behind him. She was a mixture of frustration and desire this morning. “Can you play with my boobs next?”
Linhart felt a tickle on his neck. Turning around, he saw that Ayame and Saya were both crowding in as close as they could get to him. Saya had the end of her long black ponytail in her hand, and was running it over the back of his neck.
Her pale legs were bare to the thigh, and he could see she wore a sexier than usual pair of panties in Fighter’s Green today. She smelt of excitement, and his bond with her was filled with a need for affection.
With a dazzling smile, she said sweetly, “Wow, for once you’re happy to see me… Are you falling in love with me, Squad Leader?”
“I love all of you girls,” he laughed, and accepted a tap on the nose from her ponytail.
“Fighters! Put your shirts back on… this is a place of learning, not a gymnasium!”
Magister Lucius had taken the stage and was looking at the group crossly. His girls hurried to put their boobs away.
Today, he went into a long dry speech on how energy is converted into mana, and mana became spells. The Fighter girls, who had no interest in mana whatsoever, made it their mission to arouse him in any way possible.
Hands on his legs, warm breath tickling his ears, small erotic gasps, and worse...
Without looking, he was nearly certain that Ayame was masturbating right behind him. Her knee kept bumping into the spot between his shoulder blades. Small squelching noises and heavy breathing from behind him confirmed his suspicions.
Linhart tried his best to focus on the lecture.
“Strong emotions are the purest form of energy. Anger, Sorrow, Lust has a particularly strong effect…” he droned on and on, listing emotions that aided in mana generation. Weird. The Magister had said the other day that a good mage should not show any emotion. Is emotion good for casting or bad?
It was near the end of the lecture that Linhart became aware of a pair of eyes watching him. He could feel them, and after a quick scan of the students, he found out who it was.
It was Chloe.
The little blond was sitting across from them, in her usual seat, just beyond where he and Serapha sat. From here, it could be assumed that Chloe was watching the Magister, paying close attention… completely focused.
But Linhart knew that wasn’t the case.
Her eyes were on him, studying him with intensity. How long had she been watching him? Was she watching when he was touching the girls’ boobs? Uh oh!
His hand went inside his satchel, checking that the little wooden box he had was secure. He would need to use it soon. The wrath of Chloe was not something he wanted to experience again. But what rules would he use on her…?
He spent the rest of the lesson savoring the gentle feel of the girls crowded around him, as he pondered his next move. Every moment, he endured the piercing gaze of the cute little Chloe.
* * * * * * * * *
“The Female Gaze!”
Magister Vale announced from the center of the Men’s Studies Hall, his voice rousing the sleepy looking boys from their thoughts.
“That is the name of this work of art. This masterpiece!”
He stood in front of a huge statue that incorporated several life-sized figures carved from marble and mounted in a massive slab of cedar wood. It was enormous and must’ve weighed more than a ton.
“Widely regarded as Felgion’s greatest achievement, and one of the greatest pieces of art created by a male artist, we are very lucky to have it here in our hall for the next three days.”
Linhart was more interested to hear how the Magister had gotten the huge piece in here, than in hearing about the sculpture itself. He wasn’t much of an art fan.
Looking around, it seemed the Healers in the class were extremely impressed by it. Their whispers were rising to a crescendo, with some boys tittering in art-induced excitement. Even the usually stoic mages showed some signs of interest, especially at the mention of the artist’s name.
“Antius Felgion, who is widely regarded as Eryndor’s greatest male artist, passed away just last year, after spending five years of his life creating ‘the Female Gaze.’ It is said that he was plagued by fever dreams in his final years, and that he worked the figures from the marble as an outlet for his visions. Now they have been couched in a piece of Lebon Cedar, which places the figures at exactly the right distance of separation that the artist intended for them to be.”
There were some interested ‘ooo’s’ and one thoughtful ‘huh’ in that brief pause, before the Magister continued on.
“Today’s lesson, we will be focusing on the image of the man in the statue, and what Felgion, an avid Men's Rights activist, may have been telling us about the role that men play in Eryndorian society. Come everyone, bring your chairs closer, so you can witness the beauty and intricacies of the carving.”
The students all crowded close. Linhart noticed that Vivian had taken a place right in front and was looking at the man carved from marble with great interest.
He and Vivian had not spoken since the day he’d dragged her to the meadow. That day they had made a pact, but neither of them seemed eager to follow up on it. Despite his horrific history with her, he desperately wanted to learn shadow magic, and she had, under the influence of the Honey Jar spell, agreed to teach him in exchange for sex. But interacting with the shadow mage left a bad taste in Linhart’s mouth, and she seemed equally uninterested in talking with him.
To her credit, she hadn’t been making any trouble since then, though that might be because Reynold had stopped attending class that day, or perhaps she had stopped tormenting boys as she had promised she would.
Now, she turned around and looked for him, as if she could sense his eyes upon her. The expression that she gave him when their eyes met was enigmatic, and she smiled her creepy, toothy smile, while gesturing towards the man in the statue. He shivered at the reminder of her weirdness. Yes, he still wanted nothing to do with her.
His focus came back to the lesson, where Vale was still speaking excitedly, saying, “Notice the recline of the man’s body, helpless and accepting… how he is on display, how his eyes are looking to the heavens. His body language is open, vulnerable, perhaps innocent or perhaps knowing?…”
Vale called out to the class, “Well, I’ll open it up to your interpretation. Students, what do you think this man is thinking?”
The senior mage immediately spoke up, saying, “I noticed right away that the women are all clothed, but the man is naked. That is a comment on the victimization of men.”
Others buzzed in agreement. Linhart sighed. These boys loved talking about being victimized.
Linhart’s eyes were not on the man. He was more interested in the three females that were standing off to the left. Felgion had definitely spent time studying the female form, in order to be able to render these three so well. Each girl was distinct and well-proportioned, and Linhart assumed they were based on models that the artist knew. Each was detailed and life-like and reminded him a girl he knew in his own life.
The first, an imposing figure with bulging muscles and ample boobs, was standing with arms and legs spread, looking upon the man with obvious desire, like a hungry animal. She reminded him of Xenia.
The second, a shorter slip of a girl with long straight hair, a thin elegant body, and a self-possessed stance that reminded him of a princess, was looking at the man with a covetous look in her eyes. She reminded him of Celes.
The third, a tall prissy girl with a narrow waist and excessively big tits, had a hand pressed to her lips, deep in thought. Her gaze was filled with clinical curiosity, or perhaps indifference. But still she looked at him. She reminded him of Octavia.
The artist really was a genius. Linhart couldn't take his eyes off of it.
His thoughts returned to the conversation at hand, and he realized that the students were still discussing the male statue.
“...doesn’t even seem aware that the women are looking upon him. Is that why he’s naked?” a young Healer was saying.
“No,” one of the Senior Healers butted in, “He is naked because the women require it of him. I think he knows that they are watching him, their gaze is meant to torment him.”
“The gaze of the women show that they hold power over him. He is just an object to them.” a quiet boy piped in. Linhart supposed he’d never talked here before.
Magister Vale grunted, then added, “You’ve all shared wonderful insights…” he paused and turned to the girl in the front row. “Mage Vivian… would you like to share your thoughts on what you think the man is thinking?”
All heads in the class turned to observe Vivian, who hadn’t said a word in class since her argument with the Magister on the first day. She looked left and right, aware that she was the center of attention and cleared her throat.
“Ahem, I feel the male gaze upon me… No, I’m joking. Don’t get angry… What do I think…?”
She pondered for a moment and cast a look back in Linhart’s direction, while the boys around her waited with baited breath. What would the girl say?
“He’s wondering… why his wee-wee is so small.”
The students around her erupted into a cacophony of angry retorts and rebuttals, but the Magister remained calm, waving his arms for silence.
“What? I didn’t call it a dick!” protested Vivian. She seemed genuinely surprised at the boys’ reactions.
Vale spoke with a measured tone, as if he were correcting a child who had said something really bad. “It doesn’t matter what you called it, Vivian. You’re just enforcing the idea that girls care about just one thing… the wiener.”
“But look,” Vivian exclaimed, marching over to Linhart and pulling him to his feet, “His actual wiener is huge! This statue isn’t doing him justice.”
A fresh round of jeers quickly quieted to a buzz of whispers, as the boys in the room stared at Linhart, then back at the statue. Magister Vale stepped up and examined him, as if for the first time.
When he spoke, his voice was full of doubt. “Your name. Fighter Linhart, wasn’t it?... Have you, perhaps, ever worked as a model in Eryndor City?”
Linhart shook his head, confused as all hell. Then, he finally looked at the male statue that has everyone so excited. His breath caught in his throat.
“By the Gods!” he exclaimed, “That’s me.”
…
…
“And look how small he made my wiener.”
