2.12 - Peek

Camille blushed furiously as she scurried from the bathroom. When she’d seen Natalie—that red-headed girl from class—scrambling through the halls of the training facility, she hadn’t known what to think. Red faced and visibly flustered, in a clear rush to get somewhere, the sight had caught Camille’s attention. She’d followed almost by instinct.

Trailing behind her had definitely been weird, especially because she’d tried to hide her pursuit for a reason she couldn’t explain, slinking around corners as she followed the girl. But she hadn’t been able to help herself. What an odd state Natalie’d been in. Camille had been curious.

Following Natalie to the bathroom had been weird, but perhaps not totally inappropriate, but following her in had definitely crossed the line. Especially when she’d tried so hard to not be noticed. But, again, her curiosity had been piqued. She’d never stood a chance against her curiosity.

She’d always had an irresistible urge to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. It was why Cara Gylver had taken notice of her in the first place. Her country drawl and “unrefined speech patterns” suggested to many that Camille was a woman of slow wits, or at best, a lackadaisical mind, but the opposite was true, as her adoption into House Gylver loudly proclaimed. The infamous ‘House of Ingenuity’ cared for little besides keenness of mind.

So, seeing her classmate flee down the hall, flushed and excited looking … she had followed. Against better judgment. And propriety.

And then not just to her destination, but in. If she lied to herself, she had kind of needed to use the restroom, anyway. She hadn’t entered with intentto intrude. It was just a coincidence she had gone into the same bathroom her fleeing target had.

Inside, Camille had discovered an answer to the girl’s flustered state. An answer she had distinctly not expected. Unexpected answers, she had found, tended to be the best. Her favorites. This one, though, she hadn’t fully made up her mind on. Whether it adhered to that trend. Her head was still spinning.

The red haired girl—her classmate, who had trounced her and Ellis in spars this morning—had been masturbating, loudly, in a public restroom.

Sure, she’d probably fled to this secluded part of the facility explicitly seeking privacy, and Camille had slipped in as quietly as possible, not letting the door squeak even a whisper as she inched it open, but still. It was in public.

And she had a cock. The more … important surprise.

Yes, she’d peeked. In for a penny, in for a pound. She’d already chased a red-faced girl across the facility, then followed her into the bathroom, purposefully hiding her feet by sitting on the sink and raising them. And while she definitely wouldn’t have invaded the girl’s privacy if nothing untoward had started happening, Camille had felt the faint hum of magic, and a few moments later, the noises had started.

Noises that said Natalie was very much enjoying herself.

So she’d looked. And seen a cock. On a girl. Camille didn’t know what was going on with that. Her first thought had been the obvious—Natalie simply presented as a woman, but had been born a man. But that didn’t feel right. She had a distinctly feminine build, proportions, and facial structure. And sizable breasts, a soft voice, the full list. Which wasn’t impossible with the previous assumption, but … it didn’t feel right. So Camille suspected something else. Something less typical.

So, Camille was doubly intrigued.

Beyond being mortified, of course. At herself, and Natalie. She’d caught her classmate jerking off to an illusion she’d conjured. And, Architect above, it had been a detailed illusion. Those curves—the black lingerie. How was it so finely crafted? And who was it?

A friend of hers?

How indiscreet, if so. The idea thrilled through Camille. What an … interesting ability. And what shamelessness to use it in such a way.

Regardless of the who, what, and why, Camille was interested. Even more than when she’d first pursued Natalie across the facility. Her cheeks might be burning hot enough they felt like they’d melt off, but she wasn’t a prude. And it wasn’t Natalie’s fault she’d been spied on. Camille had invaded her privacy, in a not-so-roundabout way.

Though, at the same time, seriously. It was a public restroom. She knew they were crammed in the barracks for the short term, but really? She couldn’t just deal with that, for a week or two, until she had actual privacy?

All of it was irrelevant. Camille’s mind kept coming back to the same thing. A girl with a cock. Natalie’s curves, combined with the way her hand had been working frantically up and down. The image was so seared into her brain that she couldn’t tear her attention away. She almost regretted having to leave. Maybe she could’ve … inserted herself into that event. She suspected Natalie would’ve been amenable to the idea.

A decision slowly solidified in her mind. One not made consciously.

It seemed, over the next week, Camille had a classmate she’d be trying to make friends with. She had some things to learn. Some … questions she wanted answered. Hopefully first hand.

Very first hand.

***

Natalie slunk from the bathroom, so mortified she thought she might genuinely prefer to curl up and die. It would be a nice, tidy solution to her problems. Unfortunately, she had to face the reality of the situation. She’d been caught.

Or, probably. She didn’t have any guarantees of anything, which was almost worse. The bathroom door had swung closed … and she hadn’t been that quiet. If there’d been someone inside, they’d known what was going on.

But surely they hadn’t peeked? Maybe they’d come in and left immediately. There had been a trash can directly next to the door. Maybe they’d come in to use that, then left quickly? Without noticing?

There did exist a universe where Natalie hadn’t been caught. She didn’t believe she was fortunate enough for it to be this one, but Natalie could cling to the hope like a overboard woman did a raft.

It wasn’t fair. She’d had an overwhelmingly enticing idea—one relevant to her class—and she’d wanted to test it. There weren’t any private facilities for her to do so, so she’d had to make do. It wasn’t her fault. And maybe she’d gotten carried away, but she was only human.

Not fair.

Either way, the event was over. Probably, nothing would come of it. That was what she told herself. She had other things to worry about, ones more important than whether a voyeur had spied on her in the bathroom. There wasn’t anything she could do to confront the problem, so she’d just ignore it.

Or try to.

So embarrassing.