Welldark

Left, right, I swivelled. Bored, because there was little else to look at, I checked my calendar. ‘Four more weekends,’ I thought. ‘Well, three and the weekend the date is supposed to happen.’

It was the Wednesday of the first week of the fourth month of my first semester in Welldark. More importantly, I had been subjected to Taurus’ pressure three times total now. The second had been a relative disaster. That is to say that I treated it more relaxed than I should have and lasted only twenty seconds, a little over half the thirty-five I managed to keep standing in the first try. The third, I redeemed myself for that embarrassing showing, lasting a total of forty-one seconds.

Purely mathematically, I had improved 6 seconds in two weeks and needed to improve another 19 in the next three-and-a-half weeks. In other words, I needed to double my current improvement speed. The fact that I was approaching this like a formula was likely linked to my current environment.

The Engineering Class was, perhaps unsurprisingly, one of the few fields of study where men remained the majority. Something about putting together constructs of various sizes, utilizing every last tool between blunt and razor-sharp, manual and mechanical, must have tickled a very old part of the male brain.

That being said, the women present were as capable as their peers. Sometimes more, sometimes less, on a purely individual basis. They were also worshipped to high heaven. In this classroom of forty, there were thirty-one men and nine women. Of these thirty-one males, about twenty were people I would describe as ‘engineers by character’.

What this meant was that they loved nothing more than talking about machines, consistently read about machines, and typically had a personal project that they were working on before, during, and after class. Fundamentally, I found these people interesting, praise-worthy even. The world could always use more people capable of advanced problem solving.

Their problem was that their social game was clearly lacking in experience.

These twenty had descended on the nine women in a manner that I could only liken to a swarm of very hungry locusts descending on a wheat field that was armed with pesticide spray bottles. Although nonsensical (how would wheat even wield a spray bottle?), that was the exact mental image their behaviour invoked.

All twenty of them, during the first class, had come in with the same three assumptions. One, Welldark was a school where people gathered harems. Two, the women in this class were similarly interested in machines as they were. Three, there was no better time to talk to them than before and after class.

Those were, all three, logical standpoints that I would have taken myself under other circumstances. The problem was that they had all forgotten about this little thing called nuance. Their assumptions were, broadly, correct. It all became more complicated because there was a swarm of twenty people that all came to the same conclusion simultaneously. 

Of the nine women, eight had submitted to interest overload and completely shut down any attempts made by people in and around this classroom, because they were evidently tired of being distracted from their tinkering. The ninth had turned out to be a slut of epic proportions and was riding all twenty guys like they were her personal bicycle collection. She would either eventually settle with one of them or be rejected by all, because of that behaviour. There was also the forbidden option, the one where she settled with the one that let her ride the nineteen others without complaint. In summary, it was a total shitshow.

Personally, I was a bit miffed. I had a thing for engineering girls, but I also had the tact to wait. While I was an openly lustful guy and did not care to hide my flirtatious attitude, I also hated to engage in ‘swarm tactics’. My plan had been to… well, I had no plan. I had been distracted with Esther and by the time that got sorted out, the aforementioned blockade was already in place. Considering that I hadn’t yet bothered anyone, my chances of whittling down their defences were relatively good, but none of them struck me as quite interesting enough to invest that particular effort.

To put it succinctly, twenty thirsty guys had ruined the chances of getting with a hot mechanics girl for the ten of us that were sane. This was another lesson for me that, even when the sex-ratio was 1 to 10, women sometimes had to endure waves of unwanted attention. My takeaways from this: to continue to be upfront with my desires and to never, ever move with the crowd.

Idling away the time, I turned left and right in my swivel chair, trying not to dwell on these unpleasant topics too much. Most of my work station was empty. Where others lined up their tools, I kept them tucked away under the bench. The only reason why I would take out any non-power tool was to remind myself of its shape. Replicating them with my Artefact was easier.

Eventually, the teacher of this class, Tom Jenkins, entered. He was an androgynous man who, if he had dressed the part, almost certainly could have tricked most men into mistaking him for the opposite sex. The chin-length, orderly hair and sleek glasses only furthered that impression. The black suit he wore was gender neutral. His voice, while not exceedingly masculine, did tilt towards typical male deepness.

“Good morning class,” he greeted us, once he was behind his desk. “Before we start class, I have to introduce someone to all of you. Voxxy, if you would enter.” Everyone, including me, perked up and looked towards the door.

In walked an incredibly short and stacked woman. Standing at little over a metre tall, she almost had me salivate. Breasts that bounced with every step drew my eyes first. They were almost as large as Esther’s and, on her much smaller frame, seemed gigantic. Wide hips and a pillow ass balanced things out, giving her that stacked hourglass figure that stretched both the red top and the black skirt of her uniform. Her stockings were similarly straining, encapsulating meaty thighs that rippled almost as much as her chest did. The green skin gave away her species.

Voxxy was a female goblin. She had large, long ears that were shaped like a mixture between a spoon and a pointy leaf. The inside was a pinkish red, a colour that gradually became more pronounced, overcoming the green towards the earholes. Otherwise, her head was the typical humanoid shape. Like most shorter species, her face was rounder, leaning more towards adorable than sexy.

That was just her facial structure though. The way she presented herself screamed ‘mature’. Between the way her bust stretched her red shirt, the black-framed glasses, her fat ass, and the high ponytail she bound her scarlet hair into, she was abundantly erotic. As a matter of fact, she flaunted her appearance almost too much for me. Almost being the operative word. I noted the red colour of her lips. Whether that was lipstick or the actual colour was a question that intrigued me. The green tint to it implied the latter.

“Hello,” she greeted all of us. Her tone was a bit squeaky, another manifestation of her kind, but overall feminine and attractive. Oddly, I found that she had the ‘sexy teacher’ vibe, despite being one of my fellow students. “I’m Voxxy Rundscrew. Glad to finally get to study here.”

“Due to personal reasons, Voxxy could not enter this semester immediately. Typically, we would hold her back until next semester, but she insisted. Be - nice - to - her,” he spoke those last four words very slowly, while looking around the room. Jenkins was, subtly, telling everyone to give her some space before they descended on her.

I could already tell that this was falling on deaf ears.

‘Does that include me?’ I wondered, while Jenkins pointed Voxxy to one of the unclaimed workbenches. My eyes were stuck to her jiggly ass. Goblins were one of the three famous shortstack species, others being gnomes and dwarves. Experts were debating whether dwarves even counted among shortstacks, as some said a shortstack could not be taller than 1,20 metres. Others insisted the cut-off was 1,40.

There was many a dunce who insisted that this difference was arbitrary. I could only assume that these people had never taken the advantages of shortstacks into true consideration. What made a shortstack attractive? Obvious answers were that small women were cute and that large assets looked even larger on a small frame.

While well and true, these fools did not think far enough on the possibility of sexual activity. Considering an average male size of 1,75 metres, 1,20 metres was the tallest a shortstack could be and still perform a blowjob while standing. People who argued for up to 1,40 said the breasts could supplement the mouth and that shortstacks should therefore be viable up to a height where a standing titjob was no longer possible.

Personally, I agreed with the latter categorization. Dwarves clearly were shortstacks. Any measurement that denied this was useless.

Of the three widely known shortstack species, I preferred… none. All three had their advantages. Going purely by the average behaviour and appearance of these species, dwarves were generally the bustiest, because they were stout. They had a love for alcohol, writing things down and smithing. Gnomes and goblins both shared a love for tinkering. The primary difference between them in this aspect was that gnomes had greater respect for safety protocols. Which was fortunate because they were not nearly as fecund as goblins.

Gnomes were also typically more pear-shaped and, aside from their height, human in their appearance. Goblins were, as the fine speciwoman walking past me proved, more on the hourglass, monster girl side. Large ears, small fangs, green skin, all of that. In accordance with their higher reproductive drive, goblins also were more openly erotic. Many of them were promiscuous, which I did not like, and openly submissive, which I liked very much. It was a widely renowned aspect of goblins that they surrendered to big dicks in the bedroom. Fortunately for their species, female goblins only ever gave birth to goblins. The short, green, and dangerously curious genes were really strong.

Alright, maybe I had a small preference for goblins. As a well-endowed male of dominant persuasion, they complimented me nicely. Whatever the case, I knew I wanted a shortstack in my harem. It was a body type I adored. With one that absolutely met my bar of attractiveness before me, I had three possible ways to win her over.

Number one: talk to her before anyone else could collapse on top of her. This strategy would most likely have an immediate pay-off, but I would also have to be very clear towards my male colleagues that I wanted to ‘mark my territory’. With the local competition, some pushback was bound to happen. There was also a chance that I came on too strongly. With the way she presented herself, it was a safe bet she wanted some aggressive attention though.

Number two: wait for everyone else to talk to her, then come in as an interesting guy after a crowd of mediocre people. The strategy hinged on her finding me interesting. Additionally, I had to gamble that she found none of the twenty guys that would doubtlessly compete over her interesting in any shape or form. If I was going to woo her I did not want her to gather a number of fuckbuddies beforehand. I was fine with women having previous relationships. I did not like it when my potential partners were bouncing on a different dick every weekend.

Number three: Play it casually, keep an eye on her, seek her out somewhere outside this classroom if I ever came across her. This strategy had all the drawbacks of option two, with the upside being that I did not seem that interested and that I had more time to try and read her. That could work. Generally, that was the strategy of the coward, but it could work.

The teacher explained our job for the day, as I considered my options.

“Today you will work on your own. You will be provided with a vast array of basic materials.” He gestured towards several dozen boxes filled with metal bits that were lined up on a preparation desk next to his own workbench. “With these materials, I want you to solve the following problem: a metal cube of 10-centimetre sides and a weight of 50 grams sits on a solid platform of 40 centimetres height.”

I hurried to get out my writing utensils, not having expected to have to calculate anything already. Rapidly, I scribbled down the numbers.

“Your task is to move the cube to a second platform that stands 80 centimetres to the right of the first one. The second platform is 50 centimetres tall. Your solution can be manual or motorized, but you are not allowed to touch the cube or the platforms yourself. Whoever directly moves the cube the least is awarded 50 Dark. You may work in teams. If you do, you still only get to use one set of parts.”

Immediately I turned to the newcomer. Voxxy happened to look in my direction, or perhaps my movement had made her peer over. Whichever it was, I established eye contact for a moment. I let my eyes drift away, then looked at her again. Eye contact, again, lasting this time around. She seemed confused and intrigued.

‘And that makes my choice of strategy clear,’ I thought. Eyes closed, I stood up. When I opened them again, I was right next to Voxxy. The goblin was raising an eyebrow at me. I had to keep myself from staring down into her cleavage. She did not keep her uniform buttoned all the way up. The result was bodacious. “Sorry to be this sudden about this,” I said, conspiratorially bowing down to her. “I’ll be frank. This room is filled with men who are about to swarm you.”

“So, like you?” Voxxy asked, mockingly raising an eyebrow. She tilted her head, looking at something behind me. Almost certainly a guy who was trying to be as close as possible without appearing too eager. “Seems like the only difference between you and the rest of these brash fuckers is that you can teleport.”

“I would say I am also considerably more charismatic and honest,” I suggested with a simple smile. “This sudden approach has many ulterior motives, the primary one is that I wished to contact you before the constant swarm may have bothered you to the point of isolation. It would not be the first time this occurred around here.”

“That so?” I backed off and let Voxxy take stock of the situation. That I was telling the truth should have been rather obvious in how the groups did and did not form. With a little ‘come hither’ gesture of her index finger, she told me to bow back down. We continued our conversation quietly. “So, you’re trying to impress me before everyone else can turn me off, do I get that right?”

I nodded. “You’ll be swamped with attention whatever you do. You can try your luck with me, one of the guys, work with one of the other girls, or you can make it clear you don’t want the help.” My smile grew a little broader. “Confident as you look, I don’t think you’ll need any help with this task.”

Voxxy mustered me over the black rim of her glasses. “What’s your name?”

“Karitas.”

“Karitas… could you show me where the bathroom is?”