Co[m][f]ort on a cold U of Minnesota night (20s)

[*This is a story I collaborated on with a friend-of-a-friend after she read my own story posted earlier this month, because she wanted to have her own awkward young experience get a “glow-up”. I hope our work together is interesting to read!*]

I am now, in my thirties, very confident in who I am and what I want. I like to think I am a pleasant person in general, if you were to meet me on the street; but in the bedroom, I know exactly what I want—obedience. I am a domme, and not just proud of it but *revel* in it.

But I didn’t always know that about myself. I was, once upon a time, 20. It was the early 2000s and I was in college at the University of Minnesota.

I’ve always been a very type-A, extroverted person, and not someone who takes shit off of people. I got used to being called a bitch very early on in life and take it as a point of pride. In high school I got a lot of smoke blown up my ass because I was not only smart and academically accomplished, but tall (especially for an Asian woman—I’m half Vietnamese, half Taiwanese, so how I got to be 5’10” is a mystery) and was, at the time, fairly athletic, even if I didn’t do college sports.

[MF] “I’m glad I made myself say something.”

So this story takes place (yikes) almost a decade ago.

I knew this woman in undergrad who was, well…boyish. Not *tom*boyish, just small (~4’11”) and a little scrawny and thin and sharp-featured and flat-chested and deep-voiced, and definitely got teased about all of it. Same haircut as my whitebread, generic midwestern ass. She had the sort of personality that was constantly trying to hide behind itself as a result. She was always smart as a whip though—she’s a particle physicist somewhere in Texas now, researching something I can’t even begin to comprehend. We found each other in freshman year because we were both in advanced placement French classes with juniors and seniors, and both shy sort of dweebs. Somehow we managed to negotiate our mutual social anxiety and become friends, mostly by procrastinating on our French homework by watching Futurama.

We’ll call her Nat, although the truth was that she has a very androgynous name and got hell for that, too.