I had to rewrite my prompts a couple times to remove all the stupidity that the AI tried to put in and let it do all the writing again and again. Now it's not that bad anymore and I hope, with some proofreading, at least some people can enjoy it.
Here is the first of three parts of that story idea:
In the quiet of my room, I held the letter that felt like a thousand pounds in my hands. The ink seemed to blur before my eyes as I reread it for what must have been the hundredth time: "We regret to inform you..." My heart sank once more. The scholarship, the one that was supposed to be my golden ticket, had slipped through my fingers. It was a bitter pill to swallow on top of all the relief and joy I'd felt just days earlier when my acceptance letter from Berkshire College arrived.
Taking a deep breath, I decided it was time to face my parents with the news. I found them in the kitchen, their heads bent over ledgers that looked far more worn than they should have been for people who had always assured me they were "saving like mad" for my college fund.
"I got a letter today," I began, holding it out like an offering to some unknown deity. They glanced at it, then at each other, before looking back at me with the kind of worried smiles that made me uneasy. "It's not about my grades," I continued, sinking into a chair. "I didn't get the scholarship."
Mum sighed heavily, and Dad ran a hand through his thinning hair. "We were hoping..." he started, trailing off.
I took another deep breath. "I need to know what's in the college fund you've been putting aside for me." There was a long silence before Mum got up and fetched an envelope from their room. As I opened it and saw the statement, my heart dropped even further. There was barely over seven hundred dollars there.
"I don't understand," I said, confusion warring with anger inside me. "You told me you were saving..."
Dad cleared his throat. "We didn't want you to worry, Em. Things have been tougher than we let on." He went on to explain about their salaries not stretching far enough, credit card bills piling up, and how they'd had to use some of my supposed college fund to keep our heads above water.
A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. How was I going to afford College now? Was this the end of my dream before it even began? I felt a lump rise in my throat as the weight of reality crashed down on me. I would have to work, that much was clear. Minimum wage jobs wouldn't cut it though; I'd need something more if I wanted to make a dent in tuition fees. And student loans... I shuddered at the thought, but what choice did I have?
"I could delay college for a year," I suggested, feeling sick at the very idea. "Work full-time and save..."
Mum shook her head. "You've worked so hard, Emily. We won't let you sacrifice your education."
"We'll find a way," Dad said firmly. But his eyes were worried, and I could see the strain in Mum's shoulders.
As I went to bed that night, my mind was a whirlwind of fear, anger, and determination. There had to be a way. I couldn't lose this chance, not after coming so far. But for now, all I could do was stare at the ceiling, frustrated tears streaming down my cheeks, and wonder how much debt and hard work lay ahead of me. Sleep didn't come easy that night, nor any sense of resolution to my problems.
The next morning, Rita and I met at our favorite café to catch up over coffee. We both knew we had a lot on our minds, especially with college looming ahead and finances being such a hurdle.
Rita handed me a brochure she’d been holding back for a while, her face showing a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "Check this out," she said, pushing the glossy pages toward me.
I took it hesitantly, my eyes skimming over the details of something called the Ascencio programme. My heart pounded as I read about how students in the programme wore chastity belts and received grants for college expenses in exchange for a fraction of their future income.
"I know it sounds weird," Rita said softly, her voice betraying a hint of anxiety but also determination, "but this could really help us afford college."
I took another sip of my coffee, staring at the brochure. “How... how exactly does it work?” My voice trembled slightly.
Rita looked me in the eyes, trying to sound reassuring. “The mentors are supposed to be strict and they make sure you focus on your studies. But they also sometimes offer, well, rewards for good behavior.”
I couldn’t help but cringe at the idea of having to perform just to get sexual pleasure, or even basic access to my own body. "And how do we deal with... not being able to masturbate?" I asked hesitantly.
Rita sighed, her gaze distant. “The brochure says you can talk about coping strategies and that it might lead to better self-control,” she replied, though the doubt was clear in her voice.
"But what if I don't want to give up my sexuality for years? What about exploring myself and having relationships during college?" I argued, feeling a growing sense of unease.
I flipped through the brochure, my eyebrows raising at some of the statistics. Ascencio graduates had impressive GPAs and even more impressive post-grad salaries. "But what's with this bit here?" I asked, pointing to a clause about marriage being the only way out of the belt.
Rita shrugged. "It's not so bad if you think about it. You get married, pay an exit fee, and you're free. Until then..." She trailed off, sipping her coffee.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Ritz, do you realize how long we might have to wear this thing? And who knows if we'll even find someone willing to marry us just so we can take it off?"
She sighed, leaning forward. "I know it sounds crazy, but maybe this is a chance for something different. Something meaningful, not based on...you know."
I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Rita! We're young. This is supposed to be the time when we explore, when we figure out who we are and what we want. Not lock ourselves up in some medieval contraption!"
Rita nodded solemnly. “I get that. It’s just... a lot of people who go through the programme end up successful and they have no regrets.”
We both sat in silence, contemplating the weight of what we’d just discussed. The idea was appealing from a financial standpoint but horrifying when it came to personal freedom.
Walking home after our talk with Rita, I couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling the Ascencio programme left me with. How could something designed to help students afford college also strip away such fundamental aspects of my identity? I knew one thing for sure—I wasn’t ready to give up on exploring myself or embracing what college should be about. The idea lingered in my mind as I closed my bedroom door, weighing the pros and cons of a decision that could dramatically shape my future.
The afternoon sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time I found myself alone in my bedroom, the glow of my laptop screen casting long shadows on the wall behind me. I had spent hours weighing the pros and cons of this chastity belt programme, but the more I thought about it, the less clear everything seemed.
How would it feel to not be able to touch myself anymore? To have that primal urge thwarted by a piece of metal around my waist? It was an unsettling thought, one that sent a chill down my spine. Yet, despite the discomfort, I couldn't shake off the allure of financial relief. College wasn't cheap, and if the programme really did help students achieve stellar academic success, maybe it could be worth it after all.
With a resigned sigh, I climbed back onto my bed, propping pillows behind me as I opened up a spreadsheet on my laptop. If I were to calculate this carefully, how much debt would I really need to go into? My fingers danced over the keys, plugging in various figures - tuition costs, living expenses, estimated income after graduation. The numbers seemed to stare back at me mockingly, revealing that decades of hard work might barely scratch the surface of what I owed.
I leaned back, my brow furrowing as I ran through the scenarios. With a good job right out of college, it could take me almost half my life to pay off everything - and that was just the principal. The interest would be astronomical, and financial security? Forget about it.
But with the Ascencio programme, I’d only need to give back a fraction of my income. Without stellar job prospects, I wouldn't need to worry about paying them much at all. The risk seemed lower, clearer - a safety net for someone like me.
And then there was the mentoring part. If it was as effective as Rita had suggested, maybe it could catapult my career prospects to a whole new level. Maybe I’d find the motivation and guidance I needed to actually make something of myself post-graduation. And who knew? Maybe not basing a relationship on sexuality would help me find that man - the one who understood me deeply, who valued me beyond just physical connection.
I sighed again, running a hand through my hair as I pondered this newfound information. The chastity belt seemed like such a massive step back in personal freedom, yet the logic was hard to ignore. With the debt and potential for future financial security hanging over my head, perhaps this was more than just a wild idea.
Would it really be so bad? To not feel the familiar touch of my own fingers, the comforting rhythm of release that I'd come to crave as much as breath itself? Could I truly live without that for years? I shivered at the thought, a strange mix of fear and anticipation coiling in my belly.
I threw off the covers, too restless to stay still any longer. My laptop hummed to life on my desk, its glow casting eerie shadows across the room as I opened the spreadsheet I'd been avoiding all day. Numbers stared back at me, accusing and cold: the cost of tuition, books, living expenses...and then there was the debt. Decades of payments, of scraping by, of never feeling truly secure enough to start a family.
And yet...
I minimized the spreadsheet, my cursor hovering over the Ascencio website. The program offered security, yes, but at what cost? Was I willing to pay it?
I thought about Rita's words, her hope that this could lead us to something real, something lasting. Something not based on...that. Could it be true? That a relationship founded on more than physical desire could blossom into love, into forever?
I bit my lip, scrolling through the site again, pausing on the 'Contact Us' page. A number and an email address stared back at me, daring me to reach out.
"Fine," I whispered, pulling up a new message window. "I'll bite."
My fingers flew over the keys as I typed out my questions, my fears, my doubts. I asked about the device - was it comfortable? Did it really stop everything? And the marriage clause - how often did graduates actually marry before paying the exit fee?
And then there were the financials. How much would I owe back after graduation? What if I didn't get a good job? What if I never found anyone willing to marry me just so we could both be free again?
I hit send, a weight lifting off my shoulders even as another settled there. Now all I had to do was wait for their response. Wait and hope that they could provide answers, reassurance. That this program truly offered what it promised.
Because despite everything, despite the fears and the doubts and the spreadsheet full of daunting numbers, there was a part of me that dared to dream. Dreamt of freedom from financial worry, of a better future, of love that didn't start with desire but grew into something more. Something real.
Mr. Johnson's office was a sterile haven of gleaming surfaces and neutral tones, like a museum exhibit dedicated to efficiency. He greeted me with a firm handshake and a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he invited me to sit.
"Emily," he began, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "You've got questions about our program."
I nodded, pulling out my list of notes - I'd been preparing for this meeting like it was final exams week. "How does it work? The belt...the rules..." I trailed off, feeling suddenly awkward.
He leaned forward, enthusiasm lighting up his face. "Ascencio is designed to liberate you, Emily. To free you from financial worries and sexual distractions so you can focus on your education. Our alumni have achieved remarkable things - look here." He passed me a folder filled with testimonials: students who'd been struggling academically, who'd found focus and success thanks to Ascencio.
I flipped through them, my eyes widening at the photos of smiling graduates holding their diplomas, of wedding pictures featuring beaming couples. "How do they..." I gestured vaguely, feeling embarrassed even asking.
Mr. Johnson smiled knowingly. "Some find partners within the program, others wait until after graduation. But yes, marriage is a common outcome. A natural one, really. When you're free from distractions, when your life is built around purpose and discipline...well, love finds its way."
I bit my lip, thinking about Rita's words. Could she have been right? Was this the key to something meaningful, something lasting?
Mr. Johnson laid out the conditions - graduation, a good job, paying a fraction of my earnings plus a substantial exit fee, marriage. He spoke about how people often met within Ascencio, how those relationships blossomed into strong partnerships built on mutual respect and shared goals.
I found myself nodding along, the numbers and promises clicking neatly into place in my mind. This was it, wasn't it? The solution to all my worries?
"So," he said, sliding a contract towards me, "Are you ready to take control of your future?"
And just like that, with barely a moment's hesitation, I signed away my sexual freedom for years to come.
As I walked home under the heavy sky, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd made the right decision. Was I brave or foolish? Had I found a solution to my problems, or had I simply traded one set of chains for another?
Only time would tell. But for now, all I knew was that my life was about to change in ways I could barely comprehend. And whether it led me to happiness or heartache, at least I'd have the chance to graduate, to build a career, to find love on my own terms. Even if those terms were dictated by an unusual contract and a chastity belt designed to shape my future...and constrain my present.
The measuring center was tucked away in a quiet corner of town, sandwiched between a quaint bakery and an old-fashioned bookshop. I stood outside, clutching my bag like a shield, heart pounding like I'd run a marathon just getting here.
"Emily?" A warm voice greeted me as I pushed open the heavy door. A middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a friendly smile stepped forward. "I'm Lisa, your technician for today. Don't worry, we'll get you sorted in no time."
She led me through a maze of pristine white rooms filled with strange machines that looked like they'd be more at home on a spaceship than in a small town. My stomach churned with nerves and a hint of excitement.
"Alright, Emily," Lisa said, stopping outside a large, round machine that reminded me of an MRI scanner. "This is the 3D body scan. It's completely safe and non-invasive, but I understand it might feel a bit strange."
I swallowed hard, eyeing the machine warily. "Strange how?"
Lisa grinned. "Well, you'll need to take everything off. We've found that clothes can interfere with the scan's accuracy."
I gulped, looking around the room for somewhere to hide my blush. "Everything?" I squeaked.
She chuckled softly. "Afraid so. But don't worry, you won't be the first or last person to feel awkward about this." She handed me a fluffy robe and a pair of slippers. "Here, put these on for now."
As I undressed in the nearby changing room, I could hear Lisa humming softly next door. It was oddly reassuring, like she was trying to fill the silence with warmth. I wrapped myself tightly in the robe before stepping back into the room.
"Ready?" Lisa asked, her hands poised over the controls of the machine.
I took a deep breath and nodded, clinging to my dignity as I shrugged off the robe and stepped into the machine. The scanner hummed softly around me, a warm light enveloping my body as it rotated slowly, capturing my measurements from every angle.
"It's just like a magic trick," Lisa called out from behind the machine. "You're turning invisible, but we'll see you in all your glory when you come out!"
I couldn't help but laugh at that, some of the tension easing out of my shoulders. When the scan was finally over and I'd been allowed to redress, Lisa walked me back to the reception area.
"You've made a great decision today, Emily," she said, handing me a bottle of water. "The Ascencio program has changed so many lives for the better."
I took a sip of water, letting her words sink in. Had I really done this? Signed away my freedom for...this?
As I walked home, the cool air against my cheeks grounding me, I wondered what lay ahead. Could this be the path to a brighter future, or had I stepped into something far beyond my understanding? Only time would tell. But as I paused at the crossroads, looking back at the measuring center and forward towards my new life, one thing was clear: there was no turning back now.
The fitting room was brightly lit, with a large mirror taking up most of one wall. I stood in front of it, twisting to catch different angles of my reflection as the technician wheeled in a cart laden with an array of unfamiliar objects. Among them sat a black device that seemed impossibly intricate - a sleek, shiny thing made of complicated structures and fine layers of interconnected mesh. I tilted my head, trying to wrap my mind around its design.
"Is that it?" I asked, a bit of awe coloring my voice as the technician approached with the chastity belt in hand. She held it up, the material glinting under the lights like something otherworldly.
She smiled, her eyes gleaming with pride. "Yes, Emily. This is your custom-made Ascencio belt. It's been tailored to fit you perfectly using an automated design pipeline that takes your 3D scans into account." She gestured toward the intricate patterns woven throughout the device. "See these structures? They're algorithmically optimized to provide just the right amount of stiffness while remaining airy and easy to clean."
I reached out, tracing the fine layers with my fingertips. The material felt incredibly light yet solid, as if it couldn't be moved or dislodged. I looked up at her, amazed. "It's like... it's almost too beautiful to be a chastity belt."
She laughed softly, nodding. "That’s because it’s not just any chastity belt - it's designed with state-of-the-art technology to ensure comfort and hygiene for long-term wear. The material is PA12 nylon polymer, made through an additive manufacturing process. It doesn't chafe or impede your movements."
She showed me the lower part of the belt - the crotch band. "This area here," she pointed out, "is designed to ensure no stimulation to your most sensitive parts. The domed shape ensures nothing will ever touch your clitoris." She then guided my hand to a small opening near the band's edge. "And see this? This is for water lines that allow easy cleaning."
She handed me a small syringe and connected it to the belt, demonstrating how water would spray out of the crotch band over my intimate area. I watched in amazement as she explained, "The surfaces are hydrophobized too, so moisture or dirt won't stick. This makes wearing the belt over long periods incredibly easy and hygienic."
As I absorbed all this new information, a sense of unease began to mix with my awe. What was I getting myself into? Could I really live with this contraption for years on end? But then again, the relief from financial burdens was tantalizingly close - close enough to push away doubts and focus on the promise of a better future.
I met the technician’s gaze in the mirror, seeing my own reflection holding up this complex, gleaming device. It was hard not to be impressed by its craftsmanship, even if it meant giving up something deeply personal. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever came next.
The moment arrived, and I found myself standing awkwardly before the technician as she instructed me to remove my underwear. I felt a flush creeping up my cheeks, feeling both embarrassed and vulnerable as I slipped them off. This was intimate, too personal for words - yet here I was, putting my trust in this stranger and this extraordinary device.
The technician, mercifully oblivious to my discomfort, picked up the belt with practiced ease. She slid the hip band low on my hips, where it sat like a low-cut pair of jeans. The material was rigid and fitted tightly, not moving an inch as she secured it into place. I could feel its solid presence around me, already a stark reminder of what lay ahead.
Next came the crotch band. As she pulled it up, there was a strange sensation - almost exciting in its peculiar way. It felt like a nice hug down there, firm and encompassing. But as it settled into place, I realized with a jolt that my most sensitive area was completely protected from any stimulation. Nothing touched the region around my clitoris; it was shielded behind a solid layer of material that left no room for even the slightest breeze to reach it.
A shiver ran down my spine as the electronic lock clicked into place with a little beep, signaling the finality of it all. I stood there, stunned by the suddenness and the finality of it - this was it, my future was now sealed behind an invisible keyhole.
As I walked home, the belt felt like an unfamiliar presence around me. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly - more like a constant reminder that something had changed irrevocably. Each step felt loaded with significance, every shift of the belt against my skin reminding me of what was now locked away. I could already sense the weight of this decision pressing down on me, but there was no going back.
With each step, the reality sank in further: This belt represented a trade-off - financial security versus personal freedom. It marked a line drawn between the past and the future, an unavoidable part of my journey now. And as I made my way through the familiar streets, I couldn’t shake off the question lingering in my mind - had I made the right choice? Only time would tell.
The moment I closed my bedroom door behind me, I was a woman possessed. My fingers fumbled with the button on my jeans, shoving them down along with my panties before I even bothered to kick off my shoes. Then there it was - the belt, gleaming and forbidding under the soft glow of my bedside lamp.
First, I tried to slip a finger beneath the hip band, pressing from my belly. A wave of arousal washed over me at the attempt, the friction against the material sending shivers through me. But as quickly as it began, it was over - the band was too tight, leaving no room for even a sliver of skin to breach the barrier. Frustration mixed with excitement as I realized just how effectively this belt would curb any illicit pleasures.
Next came the crotch band, and I was determined not to be deterred so easily. I pushed against it, trying to grind it in a way that might spark some sensation, some relief. But all my efforts were met with nothing but pain, no pleasure at all. It was like a protective hug down there, firm and immovable - yet frustrating beyond measure.
Desperation took hold as I pressed harder against the belt, trying to find any way to overcome this barrier. I could feel the ridges of the material pressing firmly into me, but no matter how hard I tried, nothing gave way. My arousal reached a fever pitch, but the realization that it would remain unfulfilled sent a cold dread through me.
Just as I was about to give up and let out a frustrated sigh, the door to my room swung open. My mother stepped in, her face a mix of surprise and concern.
"Emily, what are you doing?" she asked, her eyes widening when she noticed the chastity belt.
I froze, mortified at being caught in this embarrassing situation. “Mom, I… umm,” I stammered, my cheeks flushing bright red.
Before she could say anything else, I blurted out, "I’ve decided to join the Ascencio programme. They gave me this chastity belt to help with focus and productivity during college."
My mother’s expression softened slightly as she took a closer look at the belt. “So that's what it is?” she asked, seeming somewhat impressed.
"Yes," I explained hurriedly. "It fits perfectly and makes sure there’s no opportunity for illicit pleasure while I’m wearing it. It helps me stay focused on my studies."
Mom nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve heard so many stories about college girls wasting time on hookups and parties instead of concentrating on their education,” she said, her tone one of understanding rather than disapproval.
I blinked back tears of gratitude and relief. "Really? You're not mad?"
She smiled gently, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. "No, Emily. I think this is a smart decision. And if it helps you concentrate on what truly matters... well, then I congratulate you for making it."
With her words of support ringing in my ears, I felt a glimmer of hope amidst the frustration. The belt was indeed effective - too effective for illicit pleasures, but maybe just effective enough to keep me on track towards the future I desired. And as Mom left my room with a reassuring pat on the door, I made up my mind to face this challenge head-on, determined not to let the constraints of the belt define or discourage me.
The first time I used the water cleaning system, it was an odd sensation to say the least. After I'd just finished in the bathroom, I retrieved the water syringe, my heart pounding like I was about to inject myself with something far more potent than just water.
The connection port on the crotch band was barely visible, a tiny pinhole in the smooth expanse of black polymer. I pressed the tip of the syringe into it, feeling a rush of adrenaline as I squeezed the plunger. Water sprayed out, cold and sharp, hitting its mark with Clinical precision. It felt...weird. Impersonal, somehow, like being cleaned by a robot designed to care for your intimate area but devoid of any human touch.
I sighed, resigned myself to this new reality. At least it was easy, I supposed, as I put the syringe back up.
Next, I decided to take a shower and see how it would feel with the belt in place. As the hot water rinsed over my body, I marveled at the contrast between the warm streams and the tight hug of the chastity belt around me. It was both comforting and strange—the sensation of water cascading over my skin but feeling no direct contact on my intimate area.
The soapy water slowly trickled through the intricate mesh structures of the belt, ensuring that even with it on, I could still get clean. The design seemed almost magical in its effectiveness; nothing felt missed or overlooked during the wash.
Drying up was quite different. The hydrophobic treatment on the belt meant it didn’t hold any water, but my skin underneath stayed wet for a little while, eventually drying naturally. As I dried off with a towel, I couldn’t help but admire the intricate patterns of the irregular meshes that composed the rigid chastity belt.
Running my fingers along the complex layers of mesh, I felt the structure’s stiffness and precision. It was both an object of marvel and constraint—ingeniously designed to protect while still allowing for basic hygiene. The belt’s surfaces were smooth and slightly cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth of my skin underneath.
I stroked the belt gently with my hands, noting how none of these caresses translated through to my intimate area. It was like wearing an impenetrable yet comfortable shield, designed specifically for me. The feeling was strange but oddly satisfying—a mix of restriction and comfort that I couldn’t quite define.
As I stood there, admiring the belt’s design while my skin slowly dried, a sense of practicality and security settled over me. Despite its restrictive nature, the chastity belt seemed engineered to make this new chapter in my life more manageable and focused. The blend of technological precision and personal fit was both impressive and slightly surreal.
With each passing moment, I felt more at ease with the idea that this belt would be part of my daily routine for a while, helping me stay on track with my goals.
The next morning, I decided it was time to experiment with my wardrobe and figure out what would work best with the chastity belt. The hip band was a bit thicker than my finger, and I realized that wearing tight jeans might not be ideal—the belt could easily become visible, which would be incredibly embarrassing.
I slipped on a pair of faded denim, buttoning them up before turning to face myself in the full-length mirror. My eyes widened at the sight - the hip band was unmistakable, even through the fabric, like an alien creature clinging to my waist. There was no way I could walk around like this; people would notice, they'd stare, they'd...
"Ask questions," I muttered, defeat crashing over me like a wave.
I stripped off the jeans, tossing them onto my unmade bed before digging through my drawers in search of something more suitable. Skirts, long cardigans, high-waisted pants...anything that might help me blend in with the crowd while still holding true to my commitment.
After several tries, I finally settled on a pair of dark leggings and an oversized tunic, cinched at the waist with a wide belt. Stepping back into the mirror, I scrutinized myself critically - then grinned. The hip band was all but invisible now, its rigidity softened by layers of fabric.
"Voila," I murmured, striking a pose.
"Emily?" Mum called from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready."
I hurried down, anxious to test my new ensemble under her watchful eye. As I slid into my seat at the kitchen table, she gave me an approving nod. "Well done, sweetheart," she said, passing me a plate piled high with pancakes. "You look...conservative today."
"Thanks, Mum," I replied, a warmth spreading through me at her approval.
She leaned closer then, examining my outfit critically before giving the slightest nod of satisfaction. "I can't see it," she whispered conspiratorially, referring to the belt hidden beneath layers of cloth. "Good job."
Dad joined us then, his eyes lingering on my attire before shifting to Mum, who gave him a subtle shake of her head. He cleared his throat, turning his attention to me instead.
"I did some research last night," he began tentatively, folding his hands around his mug of coffee like it was a lifeline. "On this Ascencio program of yours."
I tensed, prepared for the worst - but it never came. Instead, he continued with a slow smile spreading across his face. "It's impressive, Em. The success rates, the testimonials...and the cost savings?"
He looked to Mum then, who offered him an encouraging nod before turning back to me. "We could use some breathing room financially," she explained softly. "And if this means you'll be focused on your studies instead of...other distractions..."
I felt a lump form in my throat at their support, unexpected and precious. They weren't happy about the belt, not exactly - but they understood why it had to be done.
"We're proud of you, Em," Dad said finally, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "Really proud."
And just like that, everything seemed a little brighter, a little easier to bear. Sure, there were challenges ahead - starting college in a new town, wearing this damn belt day in and day out...but at least I had their support. Their love.
With newfound determination, I pushed my chair back from the table, ready to face whatever came next - hidden beneath layers of conservative clothes and the weighty promise of my parents' faith in me.
The Ascencio maintenance center was a far cry from the sterile clinic where I'd been fitted for my belt. This place buzzed with life, filled with an unlikely camaraderie between strangers bound by their shared experiences.
I walked into the waiting room, taking in the crowd gathered there - college boys and girls alike, chatting animatedly as they flipped through magazines or scrolled through social media on their phones. It was like stepping into some secret society I hadn't known existed until now.
Heads turned as I entered, curious eyes appraising me from head to toe. I shifted self-consciously under their scrutiny, suddenly aware of the hip band concealed beneath my layers of clothing.
"Hey there!" A warm voice greeted me from across the room. A boy around my age stood up from his seat, approaching me with a friendly smile. "You new here?"
I nodded, still getting used to this open discussion of our shared...condition. "First time," I admitted softly.
He held out a hand, introducing himself as Jake. "Congrats on making the right choice, Emily." His grin was infectious, and I found myself returning it despite the nerves churning in my stomach.
Around us, others began to chime in, offering words of encouragement and congratulations. One girl, Sarah, leaned over from her seat nearby. "It gets easier, you know," she assured me. "Really."
I took a deep breath, relaxing into this unexpected sense of community as we waited our turns. When my name was finally called, I followed the technician - Maria, with warm brown eyes and an even warmer smile - into the treatment room.
She tied my hands to two sturdy metal pillars in the center of the room, her fingers deft and gentle despite their urgency. I felt a pang of vulnerability as I tested the bonds, finding them unyielding against my struggles. But Maria's friendly chatter put me at ease, her assurances that this was all for the best echoing through the sterile space.
"Okay, ready?" she asked, holding up the small control device connected to my belt. I nodded, taking a deep breath as I braced myself for the little beep signaling the lock's release.
The belt slid off, heavy and awkward in Maria's hands before she set it aside on a nearby tray. She stepped closer then, inspecting my skin closely - her touch clinical yet comforting, like a doctor who cared more than just words could convey.
"There's no irritation," she murmured, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled up at me. "Your skin is holding up beautifully."
I felt myself blush at that, surprised by how much her praise mattered to me. Then came the cleansing - a thorough washing that left me feeling refreshed yet...exposed. Maria handled it with such professionalism though, such matter-of-fact efficiency, that I couldn't help but feel grateful for her careful ministrations.
"All right," she said finally, drying me off gently before slipping the belt back into place around my hips. "How's that feel?"
I took a moment to consider, assessing the now familiar pressure against my skin. "Better than expected," I admitted softly.
She beamed at me then, clapping her hands together like a child given free rein in a candy store. "Wonderful! You're on track for a successful transition into this new way of life."
With another little beep, the lock secured itself once more around my body - but something inside me had changed too. In those brief moments of vulnerability and exposure, I'd found comfort in community, assurance in their shared experiences, confidence in their collective strength.
As I walked back out into the waiting room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over me. These people were my tribe now - bound together by choice, not circumstance. And maybe, just maybe, that was worth more than I'd dared to hope for when I signed on for this journey into the unknown.
A day later, I met Rita at our favorite café in the local mall. We both sat down at a cozy table by the window, sipping on our drinks as we caught up.
"So, how have you been?" I asked, my curiosity piqued about her experience with the Ascencio programme.
Rita looked at me with a mixture of relief and exasperation. "I’m in it too," she said, nodding towards her outfit. "Joined the programme just like you."
"Really? How’s it going?" I inquired, intrigued to hear more about how she was adjusting.
She sighed deeply. “Honestly, it feels weird at first, but it’s definitely effective. You can’t get any kind of sexual pleasure with this thing on.”
I nodded sympathetically, knowing all too well what she meant. "Have you gotten used to it?" I asked, genuinely curious about her experience.
Rita leaned in closer, lowering her voice slightly. “Honestly, no. It’s like being super horny all the time but not able to do anything about it,” she confessed with a wry smile. “I’ve tried everything—experimented with different positions, tried rubbing against things, even attempted some… creative stuff.”
“Did any of them work?” I asked, my interest growing.
She shook her head firmly. "Nope, nothing worked. The belt is too well-designed. All attempts for sexual pleasure are completely futile."
I nodded, feeling a similar sense of frustration and curiosity. “That’s what I’ve found too,” I said, sharing my own experience. “It really does prevent anything from happening down there.”
Rita chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and relief. "Yeah, it’s like this constant challenge. But at the same time, it forces you to focus on other things."
I smiled back, understanding where she was coming from. The belt might have its downsides, but it seemed to be helping both of us stay focused on our goals.
We sat there for a while longer, talking about our experiences and how we were navigating this new chapter together. Despite the challenges, the Ascencio programme felt like a supportive network, with each other’s understanding making the journey a little bit easier.