Chapter 11: The Ballet Girl’s Uterus Craves Sweet Desires

On the bus, Luo Qiaorou hesitated over the livestream start button on her tablet. Bulky school uniform concealed everything, yet her body housed devices exposing her most intimate depths. Having prepped the equipment that morning, pressing this button would expose her uterus to complete strangers online.

Even motionless, the persistent internal presence reminded her of the inserted devices. Cameras in vagina, microphone in uterus – even inactive, they seemed to radiate scorching scrutiny. Her heartbeat accelerated as slender fingers hovered over the button. Mr. A demanded continuous uterine broadcasting during school hours. With the approaching school gate, her finger finally pressed down.

After loading, her pink cervical os appeared on screen. Quickly switching the tablet to sleep mode, she hid it in her bag’s secret compartment before disembarking. School electronics checks couldn’t discover this. She didn’t want to know how many viewers she had.

But one fact remained unavoidable – strangers could now freely observe her uterus.

The chronically reclusive girl felt her face burning. Every passerby’s gaze seemed to penetrate her body, exposing her lust-filled uterus. Her proud composure proved useless – not just naked, but more thoroughly exposed than complete nudity.

Something inside her shattered. Fully clothed and acting normal, yet every glance made her feel exposed, her little uterus warming under imagined scrutiny.

Strangely… almost addictive.

Entering school grounds, violent vibrations suddenly erupted deep within – triggered by viewer donations, directly stimulating her tender uterine walls.

“People are watching… really watching my… uterus…” Even avoiding knowledge, unavoidable vibrations and pleasure constantly reminded Luo Qiaorou of strangers observing her most private depths.

Next came a series of sporadic vibrations, varying in size and intensity.

“So… many people watching… How did it get so crowded so fast…” Luo Qiaorou felt her brain turning into a pot of boiling congee, her thoughts bubbling violently. Her heated womb grew hypersensitive; even these minor vibrations effortlessly pushed her tiny uterus into orgasm.

“No… If this continues… Everyone’ll see my womb convulsing during climax…” Her mind briefly blanked. Though she had experienced external orgasms before, this forced uterine climax penetrated deeper and lasted unnervingly long. The intrusion of foreign objects dominating her most private area, coupled with the visceral awareness of being controlled and watched, struck both physical and psychological chords.

Luo Qiaorou paused briefly. This short initial stretch had already posed immense challenges. The lingering uterine climax forced her to keep moving despite suspicion. Every step intensified the sensitivity – soles pressing the ground sent pleasure snaking up her calves, coiling around her thighs, flooding her vagina, and piercing her womb.

Though the intrauterine microphone had clear audio quality, its limited range combined with flesh barriers meant it usually captured only internal sounds. Still uneasy, she resorted to activating the vibrator – its buzz would drown out residual external noise completely.

This forced Luo Qiaorou to set the uterine vibrator to perpetual motion. Waves of fierce vibrations pulsed inside her. She tried not to dwell on it, yet couldn’t help imagining her livestream viewers’ reactions. What would they say watching her womb climax? How would they interpret the muffled vibrations?

On Culture Day, students gathered directly at the playground instead of classrooms. Forming block formations, they endured leadership speeches for 60-90 minutes before marching past the stage in creatively themed squads. Tai Chi performers wore martial arts uniforms, crosstalk duos donned traditional gowns, while unserious classes sent random singers. Luo Qiaorou’s class required her to lead them in ballet attire.

This necessitated an early wardrobe change backstage.

“Xiao Rou, what’s wrong?” A female classmate’s voice rang behind her.

“Ah, n-nothing.” Her voice trembled imperceptibly.

“You seem distracted. Are you really okay for the performance?”

“Fine, totally fine… Just, uh… Don’t worry.”

Though Luo Qiaorou was the sole ballet dancer, classmates joined as background props. She taught them simple poses, grateful for company during formations but anxious about hidden devices showing through her leotard.

The covert items stayed securely hidden beneath skintight fabric. However, new troubles emerged…

“Wow, gorgeous!”

“How does she maintain that figure?”

“Her waist looks unreal!”

Luo Qiaorou’s delicate features and lithe ballet frame magnetized attention. Shy boys stole glances while girls openly admired her.

“Ah! Don’t… Don’t touch my waist!” She swatted away probing hands – ground zero for forbidden secrets.

The stares burned her with shame.

During formation marches, the campus erupted. Cheers from other classes swelled as hormonal teens amplified the commotion. Her entrance sparked palpable excitement.

Cameras rolled too – local TV coverage elevated the event’s prestige.

Maintaining graceful composure, the pure-looking girl marched under spotlights… while broadcasting uterine activities live.

Hidden fullness complicated poised movements, but the prima ballerina’s expression betrayed nothing. Only her shame-flushed womb knew.

[Could anyone recognize what I’m doing?] Her blush deepened with paranoid thoughts.

[Is Mr. A watching me somewhere?]

Anita observed Luo Qiaorou’s elegant procession while browsing the livestream of her climaxing womb – a jarring duality.

As a festival sponsor, Anita enjoyed a private viewing booth. She simultaneously savored the girl’s public grace and private debauchery.

After endless trivial performances, Luo Qiaorou finally took the stage.

Her blush-enhanced purity radiated charm, masking the hidden vibrator. The $300 “Pleasure Moment” tip only caused subtle tremors – detectable solely because Anita watched obsessively. To others, she remained an untouchable vision.

As the host’s announcement concluded, the brisk rhythm of the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” began. Luo Qiaorou stepped onto the stage.

From the moment she started livestreaming upon entering the school, she had been in a near-constant state of climax. The pleasure flowing from deep within her lower abdomen seemed perpetual, while the thrill of being exposed and forcibly revealed overloaded her mind. She barely maintained her elegant facade through sheer willpower.

She tried to calm herself. Still trembling from residual ecstasy, she now had to perform “The Nutcracker” before the entire school with those obscene toys inside her. “Just three minutes,” she reassured herself. Once past this, she’d be safe—if only she could avoid climaxing again.

Anita watched Luo’s graceful form and murmured, “What an impressive little creature.”

Though only broadcasting her uterus, the channel’s popularity soared. Anita’s earlier videos had already amassed fans, and S Station’s reputation for authenticity assured viewers this delicate womb belonged to a young, adorable ballerina. That was enough.

Knowing this, Anita logged into Luo’s account and changed the livestream title to: “Host is currently performing ballet.” Viewer numbers skyrocketed.

Luo’s training let her slip into performance mode instantly. She focused on the sprightly music, maintaining elegant movements despite the massive object inside her. But everything changed after the first segment.

Anita’s phone buzzed incessantly with donation alerts. The microphone clearly transmitted the vibrator’s frenzied hums, making the cervix-clenching black rod jiggle its uterine prisoner like trembling pudding.

On stage, the girl briefly faltered after a petit jeté, sinking to one knee. Yet within a heartbeat, she rose en pointe, executing a flawless pirouette in fifth position before continuing.

The abrupt dip blended seamlessly into the choreography—though Anita knew full well this wasn’t part of “The Nutcracker.” A triumphant smile curled her lips.

Luo’s face flushed crimson. Without warning, violent vibrations assaulted her petite uterus, hurling her into what might be the most intense climax of her life. Legs buckling, she somehow rose mid-orgasm, continuing her dance with squirting womb and trembling limbs.

Each graceful movement amplified the pleasure. The harder she fought to maintain poise, the stronger the climaxes crashed through her. She longed to stop, but under the audience’s gaze, surrender wasn’t an option.

Donations kept flooding in, vibrations intensifying with each wave. Luo had no choice but to preserve her elegant facade—lest the school witness the depravity beneath.

Anita alternated between watching the dancing girl and her phone screen displaying the convulsing uterus. “Truly remarkable,” she breathed.

“What a formidable little thing. All our contingency plans seem unnecessary now.”

As the music climaxed, Luo extended her right leg backward, bent her left knee, and spread her arms in a perfect final pose. Thunderous applause erupted while her overstuffed womb continued gushing fluids.

—————————————————————————————-

Exiting backstage, Luo immediately noticed a golden-haired foreign woman leaning against the wall. The face seemed familiar, yet she couldn’t place it.

“Hi, hello there.”

“Hello.” Luo responded politely to the Chinese greeting.

“Your performance was marvelous. I adored it.”

The woman’s enthusiasm flustered Luo. How could she explain she’d danced through continuous orgasms? Even now, residual tremors from the vibrator periodically jolted her exhausted uterus.

“Was that crouching move your improvisation? I love unconventional interpretations—so delightfully unexpected.”

Luo froze, utterly speechless.

“Might I get an autograph? I’m truly your fan.” The blonde produced a notebook.

Luo stared in disbelief. Since when did she warrant autographs? Had she actually danced well?

“I… suppose. But I’m not famous. And I’ll likely quit ballet soon.” She took the notebook, hoping to end this awkward encounter.

“Oh dear, don’t say that! I adore your ballet. I know Chinese students struggle with extracurriculars, but…” Anita slyly slipped a hand into her pocket, triggering another donation. “Even if you don’t join a professional troupe, becoming a streamer could be… advantageous, no?”

The vibrator’s sudden surge made Luo’s hand jerk, adding a playful curl to her signature’s tail.

“Xiao Rou! Change clothes already—we’re freezing!” Background dancers dragged her toward the dressing room.

Luo hastily returned the notebook with a polite goodbye. Only upon reaching the dressing area did realization dawn.

“She just said she wants me to be a streamer?” Luo Qiaorou felt something was off, but couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.

Meanwhile, Anita tucked away Luo Qiaorou’s autograph into her bosom, admiring the little upward hook in the signature formed by startled twitch when the vibrator unexpectedly activated.

“A fine signature, worth preserving.”

————————————————————————————–

The cultural festival had passed for a week as Luo Qiaorou entered campus like any ordinary day.

She flawlessly fulfilled her agreement with Mr. A, who kept his promise without further harassment since their arrangement.

Yet Luo Qiaorou barely cared anymore, not even bothering to reattach the retrieval cord for her womb vibrator.

Let that egg stay nestled in my womb. She temporarily abandoned extraction plans – after all, this was core equipment for womb livestreaming.

Concealed within her backpack’s inner compartment lay a control terminal displaying vivid imagery from her deepest recesses.

When the womb vibrator suddenly intensified vibrations, she knew audiences were donating – strangers’ lust pouring directly into her uterus.

Gentle pleasure suffused her abdomen as the greedy organ drank deeply of this sweet, cultivated desire.