Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 17A

"I could go home," she pouted, even though she did not really want to do that.

"Oh no," Dave answered sternly. Sharon could not help herself; she wanted to argue.

"Why not?"

"Well," Dave shrugged, "Because I don't think hubby gets to be the first person to see the new you. Those are ZB's fine ass tits. We get to enjoy them... Hell, I think maybe we'll tell you when or if hubby or anyone else gets to touch 'em." Sharon blinked, but she did not argue. In fact, what he was saying seemed to make perfect sense.

"I wasn't really going home," she told him, "This is my home now." Dave smiled at that answer.

"I'm glad you know that," Dave told her. "You just keep healing up, and we'll have you partying so much you'll need another break before you know it." He rang off, and Sharon padded around her little home for a few minutes before she opted to light up and watch some more television.

She saw a bit the next Monday where Kelly and Keiko were exercising with the 'help' of several of the ZB, and suddenly the perpetually aroused and semi-stoned housewife was certain she was getting fat. Careful to cover up, the blonde struck out, walking the few blocks to the campus, and then through the campus and another four blocks to the rec center. She was pleased that she was not winded, but was still convinced that she had lost her form. Flexing, her right arm, she felt her biceps with the opposite hand, lamenting that the muscular definition she had enjoyed around Thanksgiving was definitely disappearing.

Sharon quickly learned that her chest was not ready for her to do any real weight lifting. She grudgingly settled on using the leg machines, while supporting her breasts with her arms after she had walked on the treadmill. She told herself she was glad none of the ZB happened by, although a different emotion was at war with that relief. If she had thought, she would not have been surprised, because most used the almost luxurious team complex that occupied a building behind the rec center, nearer the stadium and arena.

She was tempted to stop at the Gas and Go on the north edge of campus on her walk back, just for some real human interaction, but chose instead to walk through the campus, pausing in the library where she paged through the latest copies of People and Us before reluctantly returning home.

She made it a pattern, doing her new 'breast exercises' in the morning, then heading across campus for a real work out. She half expected to have Dave standing on the porch when she left on Tuesday to tell her to stop, and wondered as she walked through the campus, seeing the many security cameras whether they knew where she was at all times. She laughed at the idea-- the cameras belonged to the university, not the frat. Shaking her head, she scolded herself for being paranoid and vowed her punishment would be an extra mile on the treadmill.

On Wednesday, she stopped in the Union and bought coffee, then shopped in the spirit store before she went back home. There were more students around, and she was surprised but also relieved that in three shirts and a hoodie she did not feel like she stood out. Of course, she had grown used to the stares and glares when parading around campus in just a ZB T-shirt and running shorts, so the fact that every guy and most girls paused to eye the sexy blonde's passage across campus went unrecognized.

There was one other thing she knew she had to do on Wednesday. She considered having a cab pick her up, but reasoned it could easily be a ZB alum driving. She showered after walking home from her exercises, and then picked up the phone. Remembering what worked, she asked for Shaun, and predictably Dave picked up.

"I need my car," she told him. When he asked why, she reminded him that the instructions were that her sutures were to come out after 10 days. And that it was the eleventh day. While the thought that it might hurt made her anxious, Sharon was more worried about how Dr. Brian would react. She was pretty sure he was not going to appreciate the 'new Sharon.' She was embarrassed to realize she had hoped that he would. 'I'm a slut,' she thought.

"What did you say?" Dave asked, and Sharon realized she had been thinking aloud. She was relieved he had not heard, and rushed on, "Nothing. But I need the car to go to the clinic."

"What about the clinic on campus?" Dave challenged.

"They will charge my insurance," she started, "I thought these were the ZB breasts, not my husband's." She was surprised but also relieved when Dave told her to relax, that he had just the solution. And when there was a knock on the door almost an hour later, she almost answered without putting any clothes on, but quickly added a robe, unsure who or what Dave's 'solution' might be. The momentary image of a gawky Veterinary student gave her an anxious moment, but it was simply Dave tapping his foot in feigned impatience.

Sharon watched in puzzlement as he purposefully headed to the kitchen table, slinging a flat black ballistic nylon bag he had been carrying onto the flecked laminate surface. He curled a finger at Sharon, who was still standing in the open doorway. She reluctantly closed it and crossed onto the worn linoleum.

"Are we going to play doctor now?" she asked, and hoped her anxiety was not obvious.

"Oh, plenty of time to play, my little bitch," Dave smiled, "But no, I'm here to take care of you." Sharon stared at him skeptically, and Dave shrugged, "It's a jock frat, right?" Sharon shrugged, then nodded. She knew that most of the members did one sport or another. "Who do you think keeps us patched up?"

"The team doctors," Sharon answered frankly. Dave smirked.

"True enough," he admitted, "But if you get knicked up and want to keep playing anyway?" Sharon had not considered that. "Look," Dave went on, "I've relocated fingers and toes and shoulders. I've put sutures in and out." He grinned at her, "I promise taking them out is easier."

"I didn't hear anything about breast implants," Sharon challenged.

"How many breast implants do you think your hero the public clinic doctor has dealt with?" Dave countered, "Or did you not stop to wonder why he was working at a free clinic instead of enjoying a successful private practice?" Sharon blinked, struggling to hide her shock. Had she missed something with... her jaw tightened as she recognized what Dave was doing. The young man was good, but she had seen enough of his manipulations, and knew enough about his ego... Since he apparently thought she had the hots for the doctor, if he had something he would have been waving it in her face, beating her down for being such a fool. Which meant that he did not have anything... Dr. Brian was a good guy, Sharon was suddenly sure, thanks to the attempt by Dave to insinuate otherwise. It also meant, though, that the frat knew she had been there. She shrugged, not wanting Dave to catch on to her line of thought.

"I don't know," she looked up at the younger man, "But he has to have patients who... dance at clubs in town." Dave nodded as if she had a point.

"And who went to their own plastic surgeons to have the sutures taken out afterwards," he dismissed her point easily, and was tired of the argument, "Enough," he pointed to the plain wood backed kitchen chair, "Sit. Strip the top off and lets see what we've got." Sharon obeyed, though she wished she had another option. She tossed her hoodie onto the table top, followed by the T-shirts, which she removed together. Dave moved the next chair closer after turning Sharon's chair to get the best light on her breasts from the overhead fixture. He lifted one, then the other, tilting his head to see the second suture line.

"He did something different, right?" he was obviously surprised. Sharon shrugged, then agreed,

"I guess... I mean, I think I remember him talking about a keyhole." Dave nodded.

"He did, but it's a good thing, he changed his mind," he leaned back, appraising Sharon's chest, "This will look much better."

"That's what I thought, too," Sharon agreed. Dave unzipped the bag,

"Lay back on the table?" he directed.

"What?!"

"The shadow of your breasts are hiding the sutures at the bottom." Mollified, Sharon did, trying not to admit that the thought of Dave fucking her on her kitchen table had her more than a little wet. He stood to the side, though, and pulled a small very bright light out of the bag he had brought, shining it along the incision and touching her gently. Several spots were slightly painful, but Sharon tried to remain calm.

"I don't think they're ready yet," Dave warned.

"But Dr Pat... Dr... Dr. P said,"

"I read the instructions, too," Dave cut her off, a warning tone in his voice, "But 10 days could mean 12, even 14 days." Sharon nodded, although she was not sure about that. "But the sutures around your areolae," Dave continued, "We can take them out."

"Why, have they healed better?" Sharon was concerned.

"Well, I don't think there was as much trauma there," Dave shrugged, "And they don't have the weight of your breasts and implants pushing down on them. Plus, you'll be warmer there on the bottom of you breasts, too." That made sense, and Sharon found herself trusting Dave's assessment. Flat on her back, naked from the waist up, the white housewife was acutely aware of how far she was from the person she had been driving down to school not even six months before. She gasped at a cold hiss as Dave sprayed something over her breasts.

"Relax," Dave warned, "This is a topical anesthetic." He sprayed her areolae and nipples more intently, then sat back, waving his hand over her wet skin. As the cold sensation faded, Sharon was aware that her breasts felt slightly numb. He opened a sealed package, pouring alcohol into it, then opened another package, followed by another down by Sharon's hip. She dared not lift her head to look.

He donned gloves, then swabbed her breasts, ignoring her inhalation as the room temperature liquid rolled off of her partially numbed skin down her sides. Where liquid was concerned, room temperature felt cold. He tore open what looked like a silver metallic ketchup package, squeezing a clear gel onto each of her areolae.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Well, when I was growing up, dad always put Vaseline on my sutures before I went to have them taken out," Dave explained, "But that's not sterile. And we don't want to risk an infection, so I put some sterile lubricant on them instead. He held up a small pair of what looked like a cross between scissors and tweezers, but with the jaws rotated ninety degrees compared to Sharon's loop handle tweezers. There was a small, very sharp pair of scissors in his other hand. "Now," he bent closer to her breast, and for a ridiculous moment Sharon thought he meant to suck at her nipple, "We just have to tease..." he used the tweezer like tool to lift, then catch a suture edge. He then carefully slipped one of the scissors' edges between the suture loop and Sharon's skin. He cut, and simultaneously pulled the suture free. For a moment an angry red pore remained visible, where the suture had been tied. Dave wiped the black loop off on a piece of gauze and returned to catch the next suture's free ends. "Did that hurt?" he asked, as he worked on the second suture. Sharon shook her head.

It was slow, tedious work, but eventually Dave sat back, setting the scissors on the suture laden gauze. Sharon had been counting.

"That's an odd number," she warned, "There are twenty five." Dave shrugged.

"Your areolae aren't the exact same size," he pointed out. He looked more closely, "There aren't any more sutures." He reached into his bag, tearing open a foil pack of antibiotic ointment that he smeared over the margins of Sharon's areolae before covering each with a 4x4 gauze, which he taped in place. "Maybe we should have you wear just this to class tomorrow," he smirked. Sharon had wondered if they even expected her to go to class. "Or to the gym," he added, his smile broadening, "I bet you'd have more guys going to exercise than are enrolled if that happened." Sharon relaxed, certain Dave was just teasing her.

"So will I go back to work at Go's now?" she asked, trying to decide if she was as anxious to go back as she sounded, and realizing that she was, wondering again what had happened to her. "What?" she realized she had missed what Dave said.

"Soon enough," the ZB assured her, "First we have to get the rest of those sutures out and have your coming out party." Sharon smiled, confident that would be a fun evening. She managed to resist the urge to ask for more information. "I figure, a few more days and we'll get those out," Dave motioned at the bottoms of her breasts, and Sharon reflexively covered her breasts at the reminder she was laying nude before the younger man. Dave motioned to the television, "Have you been enjoying the new BZ View?" Sharon nodded.

"I feel like I'm being left out," she complained.

"You're the one who did not want to be on camera."

"Like that has mattered," Sharon countered, and Dave did not bother arguing.

"You'll be playing along soon enough," he assured their pet white wife, "You've been hitting the gym, do you think you're ready to dance again?" Sharon gingerly touched the line of sutures at the bottom of each of her breasts.

"I don't know, these sort of poke at me." She missed Dave's smile at what else she had grown used to 'poking' her, "And I haven't done anything too strenuous at the gym." He nodded.

"Well, I guess we'll have to look into that," and he stood. For a moment, Sharon thought he meant to have sex with her, something she had been hoping for from the moment she had let him inside. Her hands were already on her panties, but he was closing up his kit, and before she could redirect her thoughts, he was heading for the front door, "Take it easy a few more days," he told her over his shoulder.

"But I'm horny," she groused, loudly enough to be sure she was heard. He laughed.

"Oh, I think you're finding ways to take the edge off of that," he taunted her, "But your night is coming up." And then he was gone.

Frustrated, Sharon relocated to the couch, selecting the frat's pay per view porn feed without really thinking about it. She absently fingered herself while watching other BZ Bitches putting out to frat members, wondering if a second trip to the gym might ease the building itch of her need.

Friday morning dawned clear but cold. Sharon turned on the news and learned that a new front was pushing through and snow was possible for the weekend. She had purchased a mascot beanie and scarf, and adding a lined school hoodie over the usual T-shirts as a layer against both the cold and prying eyes, she scooped up her backpack, her class schedule, and set out on foot, determined to begin the second semester as a real student, just as she had in the fall.

Feeling almost as obvious as she had her first day as a freshman but for entirely different reasons, Sharon self-consciously slipped into a seat at the back of her classrooms. It was also in part because she had not looked at her schedule until when she was on her way to her first class, meaning she was always almost late.

Pausing only long enough for coffee and a quick muffin at the Union, Sharon had three classes from 8AM until 2PM when her day was finished. Pleased that she had not been cornered by a ZB demanding a blow job or worse, but also frustrated that she had not been dragged into a stall and thoroughly fucked, the housewife decided to walk on to the gym to exercise her frustrations away before returning home.

Of course, doing so meant taking off the hoodie and all but one of the T-shirts. Her prior visits there had been only a few other students exercising, but with school back in session and new year's resolutions in mind, the rec center was much busier than it had been. And Sharon found herself acutely aware that the guys were watching as she walked on the treadmill. And when she gingerly did her back and abdominal exercises. Embarrassed, she stopped after only a half hour, bundled up, and crossed the campus back to her home away from home.

She had checked her phone frequently on the way, expecting a call from Shaun or Dave about the welcome back party. While the sutures were still obvious, and the incisions nearly as glaring, a week without sex had Sharon anxiously anticipating the party. But there were no calls, and no text messages. Frustrated, she flopped onto the couch, deftly packed the bong, and once she had taken the edge off with several hits interrupted by a concerted effort to get herself off without resorting to the big dildo in her nightstand, Sharon began to look through the day's notes and assignments.

She had worried that having been away from class the majority of the past semester she would be impossibly behind, but nothing had seemed particularly advanced. It was almost disappointing. She looked at the schedule so as to be better prepared on Monday, then idly watched the developing orgy at Mary's. She blinked seeing that Mary and Kelly were draped over the back of the divercee's leather couch, taking it from a pair of ZB members at the same time. Sharon could admit that she was jealous. She got up, carefully moving behind her own couch, then leaning over it to see if the position was uncomfortable for her chest.

"Damn it," she groused, as the position and what she was watching left her in need of satisfaction. She went into the bedroom, slipping the big dildo that Dave had selected at the adult store the year before into her hungry pussy, even before she lay back on the bed. Sharon went to work, pretending it was... Tom. Smiling, she enjoyed two orgasms in just a few minutes, and drifted to sleep with the big rubber phallus buried in her temporarily sated cunt.

Sharon went to the gym twice on Saturday and Sunday, pushing her body, testing just what hurt, and then doing another rep or two. She was pleased when she was able to do some chest presses without any pain. The second trip each day was an impulsive decision when her arousal at the endless spiel of live and recorded sex had her too hot to sit still. She kept it up the next week, exercising, showering at the gym, and then heading to class, then finishing the day back at the gym a second time.

She kept telling herself she should turn the television off, but would find herself watching and playing with herself, remembering similar encounters with the frat members or fantasizing that she was taking part. When she grew tired of masturbating, she would light up the bong, after which she would sit giggling at what she was watching. She was still playing with herself almost constantly, but without the pressing need to get off.

Dave visited on the 26th, shortly after Sharon had returned from her later afternoon work out. He had the black satchel along, and Sharon asked him to wait while she showered, pointing out they did not want her to get an infection. Aroused at just the big frat member's presence, Sharon used her shower head to get off, telling herself she would be able to sit still that way. She did not bother drying off or dressing, stepping to the doorway and asking Dave 'how do you want me.'

Dave smirked. He did not rise to the bait, although his cock responded. It did not surprise him, Sharon had already been shit hot. With her new tits, the housewife could have been a Playboy centerfold. No, he thought with a broader smile, a Penthouse Pet, maybe... or a Hustler Honey. There was barely any trace of innocence in the smoldering expression on the horny housewife's face. He motioned to the table, pretending he had not noticed her invitation.

"Let's get those out, you have to be ready to party this weekend."

"Oh, I'm more than ready," Sharon assured him, carefully laying back on the table. Her nipples, already erect, stiffened more at the touch of the cold table top on her back.