Ivy looked at herself in the mirror.

Activities for the day had finally wound down. She was preparing herself for bed. The Ravenwood Headmaster’s quarters included almost an entire corner of the building to herself; a veritable mansion, when broken down into square-footage. And luxuriously furnished. Living large, Ivy was. For all the chaos of the strange life she’d been thrust into, Ivy had been struck by divine fortune, if viewed objectively. This new life of hers was magnitudes more blessed than the one she had back on Earth.

And for that matter, so was her body.

Ivy cupped her breasts, marveling in the mirror at how much they’d grown. Or, not grown, rather, since this body wasn’t hers to begin with. It was Iverius’s. Similar in appearance to Ivy in her old life, but not identical. Lots of … improvements.

Either way, it was really something.

Perfectly shaped, a tiny waist, huge tits, and even a great ass – tight and firm and so squeezable – if Ivy were allowed to say so herself. It felt arrogant, somehow, or immodest to compliment herself so, but really, the opinion was one of a third-party; she hadn’t mentally slotted this body as hers yet. It was Iverius’s.

And Iverius had taken care of herself. Been blessed in a way Ivy hadn’t.

Still, it wasn’t her newly improved figure she most wondered over. That title, of course, went to her cock.

She’d been waiting for a moment where she’d be able to come to terms with it, and it’d arrived. 

She wrapped a hand around herself, wincing at the sensitivity. She hadn’t planned on working herself up, in playing with it, but she couldn’t help herself. She gave it a stroke, up and down, wanting to see it enlarge in the mirror. And it did. Her member filled out, pulsing with heat as it engorged and grew veiny, and Ivy watched as it grew from large to truly staggering – twelve inches, more? God, long enough she could reach it with her mouth, if she bent forward and tried.

Her heart skipped a beat.

N-No … better not be trying anything like that. That was way too debauched, even for her.

But?

Ivy shook her head.

She turned around in the mirror, examining herself.

A girl with a cock - a real one, since Ivy had seen plenty with strapons, had worn one herself a number of times – was really something to behold. Even if the effect wasn’t quite the same looking into the mirror, not quite as arousing as it’d otherwise be if she didn’t know it was her. She thrusted her hips out, turned sideways, as to better accentuate it.

She bit her lip. 

God, it’s so fucking big …

She admired the sight: the swell in her chest and hips, slimness of waist, and with a cherry on the top in the form of a foot or more of girlcock. Ivy would have killed to have someone like the person in the mirror dominate her. To push her face in the floor and slam into her. Strap-ons had always been a huge ‘yes, please’ for Ivy, and a hot, throbbing, not-fake one would be so delightful an improvement when attached to the plush curves of a girl. Being able to feel it twitch and pulse inside her … ah, if only.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), it was up to her to do the dominating.

God … she wanted to put it in something so bad. To push it into a hot, wet, accepting hole, thrust and pound until she exploded inside, filling a cute girl up with her hot seed. The frustration was so intense her skin itched. Was this how all guys felt? If so, she felt genuine sympathy. But she doubted it. With Ysulla’s generous ‘equipment loan’, she’d given similar maintenance requirements … in the form of an absurdly high libido.

One quickly fraying her willpower.

All she’d have to do was ask Amy, and she’d have a willing little cocksleeve to play with. To pound into to her heart’s desire, to stretch open and fill up, however many times she wanted. The idea of slamming her hips until she was hilt-deep in that cute brown-haired assistant of hers, feeling the soft press of her ass as she went all the way in, jackhammering … and how she’d break into mindless, nonsensical noises under Ivy’s devoted, pounding care.

Ivy rubbed her face, practically feeling the steam coming from it.

Was this refusal of Ivy’s pointless? Her moderation? Ivy really did believe delaying gratification was important for giving herself motivation … but did she really need to?

A brief battle of wills – Amy was just a call away. It’d be so easy. And so good. But she stopped herself.

My students, she scolded herself, will be the first I fill up, and no one else.

Amy afterwards, one hundred percent. But not before.

She slipped on her night robe, tied the fuzzy belt closed, and collapsed into her bed, finally removing herself from the enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror.

Stared up at the ceiling, basking in the cold sheets.

There were more important things to be thinking about, weren’t there? Much as she’d wanted to use her first bit of free time to digest her new body.

Ysulla. Ivy supposed she deserved a moment of consideration. The end game wasn’t important enough to take up too much of her mental-space, seeing how far away it was, but at least a few moments.

Ivy had already mentioned subservience wasn’t for her. Though Ysulla had been pleasant enough, and Ivy would have accepted this task wholeheartedly with some convincing, she hadn’t phrased it in the sense of an offer; and so, Ivy would be revolting, at some point or another.

Not any time soon, of course, but Ivy didn’t take things lying down.

(Not in that way, at least. In others, she could be convinced.)

Which was the problem with Amy. Her loyalties didn’t lie in Ivy, however much she pretended to ‘belong’ to her. She ‘belonged’ to Ysulla – and thus, any long term relationship was untenable.

Which was a shame. Ivy genuinely enjoyed the perky girl’s company. She was funny, a sharp enough wit, and playful – Ivy had always liked playful. 

Alas, not to be. Nothing more than a professional relationship. If it could be called that, considering how often she had, and would be having, her hands wrapped around Ivy’s cock.

(It could be a lot more than hands wrapped around her cock. She only need ask.)

But as for that incoming mutiny, she didn’t even know where to start. She didn’t have the requisite information to even begin planning. Pointless – so she moved on.

Her task. How best she ought to go about it, now that she had some information on each of her representatives.

Each presented different avenues. Ivy saw a way in with Avril most clearly: her desperate need to regain Ivy’s favor after their disastrous first meeting. But Roxy offered a way forward too, by dint of being the most open – the least inclined to rules. And she was attracted to Ivy, as she’d made clear when speaking to Kate: ‘God, I want her to step on me’. Now, Ivy didn’t know how well that would translate to success if she actually made moves, but Ivy was only discussing potentials right now, of which Roxy marked a clear one.

Laura was the least promising, and unfortunately, the most important to sway over, as far as the task went. The third year representative and beloved by the campus besides, she held far and away the most influence to Ravenwood’s student base; win her favor, or subservience, and Ivy had Ravenwood in the palm of her hand.

Or, perhaps not that dramatic, but she’d have significant tools available had she Laura willing to act her soldier. In a way Roxy and Avril wouldn’t.

But her meeting hadn’t offered any inklings of way forward. The only thing – and this was a maybe – was her relationship to the previous headmaster. Laura had seemed pretty intense when talking about her. It had set off an alarm in Ivy’s head, that maybe their relationship was something more than student and headmaster. But that could be Ivy’s own situation warping her perspective. It could be innocuous.

Still, an avenue to dig into. She’d need to get Amy to look into Tance. Would need to regardless, seeing how she’d promised Laura she would, and breaking that agreement would be a fast way to derail amiable relations. Which would be disastrous, with Laura already having the least openings to pry at.

She’d need to keep teasing away through their dreams; learn more about them, wiggle in perverted ideas into their heads. Bit by bit. It’d happen eventually – tugging at a tangled knot until it came bursting open. 

And thus, me bursting into them.

Ivy stretched, the sleepiness starting to kick in. She tried to fight it off, with so much to think about. Ravenwood, the Valkyrie and what their lives looked like, the vishata, the capital city of Dathe, how she was going to pry compliance out of the Board or otherwise gain their support, on and on. A thousand little items on her checklist, all vying for her attention.

But maybe she’d close her eyes for just a second …