Chapter 1: Introduction
The flyer was tacked up between a lost cat poster and an ad for cheap textbooks, its neon pink paper standing out against the peeling corkboard like a neon sign in the dark. **Belly Tickling & Belly Button Sessions – $20/hr – Discreet & Professional** was printed in bold, slightly crooked letters. Anthony had spent an hour debating the wording, then another hour debating whether to include his phone number at all.
He exhaled sharply, watching his breath fog in the crisp October air. The campus quad was mostly empty—just a few students rushing to class, their backpacks bouncing against their shoulders.
Anthony stood there, staring at his flyer, his fingers twitching. He’d never done anything like this before. Hell, he’d never even *thought* about doing anything like this before. But rent was due, his meal plan was running out, and the only thing he had going for him was the fact that he’d been blessed—or cursed—with a soft, round belly that jiggled when he walked, and a deep, tight innie belly button that always drew eyes.
He’d noticed it before—the way people glanced at him, their gazes lingering just a second too long on his stomach. The way some would smirk, others would blush, a few would even lick their lips.
Anthony stood there, staring at his flyer, his fingers twitching. He’d never done anything like this before. Hell, he’d never even *thought* about doing anything like this before. But rent was due, his meal plan was running out, and the only thing he had going for him was the fact that he’d been blessed—or cursed—with a soft, round belly that jiggled when he walked, and a deep, tight innie belly button that always drew eyes.
He’d noticed it before—the way people glanced at him, their gazes lingering just a second too long on his stomach. The way some would smirk, others would blush, a few would even lick their lips.
It was fucking weird, but it was also money. And Anthony needed money.
He adjusted his hoodie, pulling it tighter around his waist, as if that would somehow make his stomach less noticeable. But he knew it wouldn’t. The damn thing had a life of its own, bouncing with every step, his belly button a little crater that seemed to draw in every goddamn gaze.
A gust of wind ruffled the flyer, making it flutter like a stripper’s fringe. Anthony scoffed. *Discreet & Professional.* Yeah, right. What the hell was he even thinking? This was college, not some underground fetish den. But then again, maybe that was the point.
It was fucking weird, but it was also money. And Anthony needed money.
He adjusted his hoodie, pulling it tighter around his waist, as if that would somehow make his stomach less noticeable. But he knew it wouldn’t. The damn thing had a life of its own, bouncing with every step, his belly button a little crater that seemed to draw in every goddamn gaze.
A gust of wind ruffled the flyer, making it flutter like a stripper’s fringe. Anthony scoffed. *Discreet & Professional.* Yeah, right. What the hell was he even thinking? This was college, not some underground fetish den. But then again, maybe that was the point.
The campus was full of horny, bored, and curious students. Maybe someone would take the bait.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Anthony’s heart lurched. He pulled it out, half-expecting it to be his landlord threatening eviction, but instead, it was a text from an unknown number.
**"Hey. Saw your flyer. You serious?"**
Anthony’s pulse spiked. He swallowed hard, his fingers hovering over the screen. *Fuck it.* He typed back: **"Yeah. Serious."**
The reply came almost instantly. **"Where are you now?"**
Anthony glanced around. The quad was still mostly empty, just a few stragglers heading to class. **"Quad.
By the library."**
Anthony’s thumbs hovered over the screen, his breath coming faster. *What the hell am I doing?* His stomach twisted—not just with nerves, but with something else, something low and warm. He hadn’t expected a response this fast. He hadn’t expected *any* response, really.
**"Be there in 5."**
Anthony’s cock twitched in his jeans, already half-hard just from the idea of it. *Fuck.* He shifted, trying to adjust himself without looking obvious. The last thing he needed was some random freshman catching him with a boner in the middle of the quad.
He leaned against the brick wall of the library, arms crossed over his chest, trying to look casual.
His hoodie was unzipped just enough to give a hint of the soft flesh beneath—his belly pressing against the fabric, the outline of his belly button just visible through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. He could feel the cool air brushing against his skin, making his nipples harden just a little.
Anthony shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his cock already thickening in his jeans. *Five minutes.* Five fucking minutes and he’d be doing this—whatever *this* was. He hadn’t exactly thought through the logistics. Would they just… touch? Would they go further? Would he even *want* to go further?
The thought sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin.
His cock pulsed behind his zipper, straining against the denim.* He was already hard, and the stranger wasn’t even here yet. What the hell was wrong with him? He shifted again, trying to discreetly adjust himself, but the friction only made his dick throb harder.
The thought of some stranger showing up to touch him like this—*fuck*, he was so turned on he couldn’t take it anymore. His fingers trembled as he unzipped his jeans just enough to slip his hand inside, his cock already leaking against his boxers.
The library’s brick wall pressed against his back, the rough texture grounding him as he stroked himself, slow and deliberate, his thumb swiping over the sensitive head. He bit his lip, stifling a groan as he imagined what was coming—someone’s hands on his belly, fingers tracing his navel, maybe even—
A shadow fell across him.