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The following is a rape fantasy. It's not meant to be taken seriously or as an indication that anyone would enjoy being raped. It is completely fictional and has no basis in the real world. As a rape fantasy it is violent. If any of that sounds like it may bother you it's likely best to choose a different story to read.
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My first apartment! After my first few years of dorms and room mates, I finally had my own place off campus. I was so excited to have my own space that was mine; it gave me such a different feeling looking ahead to third year. Residence wasn't all bad, I did end up meeting some wonderful friends and the close quarters living experience did have a charm of its own, but really I have always liked to have some space. The thing about a dorm room is that it's a social contract of sorts, a series of little trusts and concessions that make it possible to co-exist. In my apartment I would set the terms. No unexpected mini-parties, no more sleeping in the common room when she had "company" and no more midnight life crisis management.
The apartment wasn't that much to speak of, but to me it was so grown up. I had my own living room, my own kitchen, my own shower and my own bedroom. There was even a balcony that looked 10 floors to the ground. The view of the street below seemed somehow peaceful to me. I was so captivated with my new domain, dancing from one room to the next over the carpeted floors that I almost forgot to help with the move.
"Michelle! This is your fucking stuff!", my brother reminded me that he was only too happy to be conscripted to furnish this empty palace.
"Ok, ok, you don't have to be so fucking rude about it!" My taste of complete freedom had loosened my tongue a bit more than my family was used to.
"Hey! That's enough young lady, you're not to speak like that. Have some self respect!" My father, ever sensitive to gender equality, was completely horrified when words used consistently by my brother escaped my lips.
At that point I really didn't care, I wasn't really in the mood to bicker with either of them. I really did appreciate the help, as I wasn't quite independent enough to move heavy furniture...or in the grand scheme of things independent enough to pay for anything myself. Dad had hit a home run this time, the building the location and the dedication to moving had earned him sweet daughter as long as I was in his presence. With that in mind I meekly apologized to dad, while making sure he missed the eye roll in the direction of my older brother.
Getting back to the real world, I did my best to help carry in the boxes. I endured the lamenting sighs and verbal abuse from my brother without any further incident. I'm not sure what he expected of me, the boxes were really heavy, I know that I packed most of them but I didn't know they would be so heavy when it came time to lift them. I wasn't going to be entering any weight lifting contests, at 21 years old the only muscles I had were in my legs. That from years of dancing and more recently having taken up jogging as a way to get out of my dorm.
By this time I was very comfortable with my body. Sure, I was still lanky and sort of tall, but I wasn't the stick that I was in high school. My hips had filled out to my delight and more so relief in the first few years of university and I got compliments all the time on my legs. I would play it off, but really I actually liked the attention, even when it came from a passing car of testosterone fuelled students yelling a cat call. It made me feel proud, it made me feel good about my body. A body that I spent most of my high school days trying to cover up, worried that I would be made fun of or worse. Those days felt like accent history now. Instead of covering I worse clothes to show off, little shorts, skirts, tank tops, tight sweaters, fitted jeans and even on occasion high heels.
I changed my appearance in other ways too. The mess of curly, unmanaged and frizzy hair was replaced by salon styled what I liked to think of as flowing hair. My glasses stayed in my drawer more often than not, replaced by contact lens. I even started painting my nails, wearing dangling earrings and grooming the area that only some of the boys would see.
Becoming sexually active mid-way through first year changed a lot of things about my confidence and outward appearance. It really was the catalyst to a lot of these things. I wanted to attract boys now, I wasn't afraid of them any more. I didn't have those nagging fears about if it would hurt or if they would like it. It felt good and I wasn't afraid to admit that, my outward appearance at this stage was just an extension of this attitude. My dad liked to harbour some hope that his nerdy princess was still untouched by the hands of man, but I think we just had an unspoken agreement not to talk about it.
"Thud!" The last box was dropped, not so gracefully, by my brother as he wiped the sweat off his forehead and gave me a not so approving look for my contribution to this effort.
"umm thanks." I said apprehensively knowing this wasn't much currency in his world.
"yeah, whatever...can we go know?" He said trailing towards our parents.
"Are you ready sweetheart?"
"Yeah, dad I will be just fine, thanks for all your help." I said in my most sincere and sweet voice I could muster while giving him a big hug. In his world this was the most valuable currency and I could tell he would do it all over again without taking a break.
"Love you dear."
"Love you too."
And with that, I was finally alone in my very own place for the very first time. The boxes could wait, the first thing I did was plugged in the video machine and watched a sappy movie, doing my best to not be emotional, followed by betraying that very notion. A box of kleenex later I was all cried out and ready to sleep in my own place for the first time.
When I woke up in the morning I decided to go for a little jog before the world woke up. This sort of opened my eyes to something else that was different about my new place, this wasn't a student residence and people were already up. Not being a residence meant that my neighbours were of all sorts, I really had been transplanted into a grown up world. Mostly, it suited me just fine, most people just kept their heads down avoiding eye contact. I would often pass people in the hall left with the feeling that one of us should have said hi.
Over time, I did see people that I would say hi to and likewise. Nobody really made me uncomfortable in any serious way. Not like some of the guys in residence, who would have trouble taking a hint that we had nothing to talk about. First, I became friends with a young single mom from a floor down. Her name was Susan and she was so much fun, I felt bad for her situation sometimes but when she could get away we would go out for drinks, talk obnoxiously, come home and watch movies. We really connected and I liked having a friend in the building. I got along with her little boy too, he was full of questions and I actually entertained the possibility that I could answer them all.
Over the first term we became pretty close. Susan was cool to me, she wasn't a school friend, she was a bit older at 26 and seemed worldly to me. After a while she would ask me to watch her son every now and then, just a few hours at a time. I really didn't mind, he was usually asleep and it was quiet and I could get some studying done. After a few times I sort of wanted to know where she was going.
"Oh, nowhere really, at least not out of the building." Susan said revealing part of it with a mischievous smile.
"With the guy upstairs?" I asked almost in disbelief, I had seen them talking before but he didn't really look like her type.
