Dickgirls Around Town: The Nice Girls: Dickgirls Around Town, #6

By A. Vivian Vane

Casey's read enough erotica to know what to expect from dickgirls: big, swaggering amazons with oversized cocks and the exaggerated busts to match. 

But reading about them online isn't the same thing as going to school with them…and when Casey actually talks to some of the dickgirls at college, she starts to learn all kinds of new things about who she is and what she wants from life. 

"The Nice Girls" is a college romance starring two very nice girls, one of whom just happens to have a cock. If you like the dickgirl genre (futa/futanari, shemale, etc.) and you've always wanted to see it paired with just a touch of wholesome love, "The Nice Girls" is the story for you!

This is a work of erotic fiction intended for adults only. All characters depicted in sexual situations are at least 18 years of age and not directly related by blood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. Vivian Vane
• Release date: Jan 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386219859

Book preview

Dickgirls Around Town: The Nice Girls

A. Vivian Vane

Copyright 2018 by A. Vivian Vane

Cover art copyright 2018 by Lacy Lucette

First Edition

This is a work of fiction intended for adult audiences only. All persons depicted are imaginary, and any similarities to real people, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any characters depicted in sexual situations are at least 18 years of age and not directly related by blood.

For other titles in this series and other works by A. Vivian Vane, visit the bookshelf at A. Vivian Vane Talks Dirty.

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Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Sneak Preview: Books by A. Vivian Vane

End

One

H ey, Casey! Wait up .

Casey turned, genuinely startled to see her classmate Emma half-jogging after her. Tall, blonde, and a power hitter on Hamnin College's softball team to boot, Emma looked like a natural queen bee to Casey's painfully trained eye. (In class, to Casey's mild surprise, the upperclassman had proven to be quiet and studious, but bitter experience had taught Casey to mistrust anyone reaching out from a better social circle than hers—and in high school, all social circles had been better than Casey's).

Still, she slowed; shifted her stack of books to her other hip to make room on the worn dirt shortcut across the North Quad. Several different potential greetings got tangled up on her tongue and turned into a slightly grunting Ha-yeah? as Emma drew up alongside her.

Hi. Emma flashed clean, white teeth very briefly, then fell into step beside Casey. It was hard not to be immediately conscious of the difference in their strides—Emma had to be at least six feet tall, while Casey topped out at five-foot-four if she rounded up. Did you do any of next week's reading yet? asked Emma.

Casey frowned, trying not to let her suspicions get the better of her. She was, she knew painfully well, an extremely forgettable freshman: neither particularly skinny nor fat (just squat, without even the big tits being properly fat might have given her), with dark brown hair that she kept in a sheltering bob cut and a wardrobe comprised of equal parts jeans, flannels, and fandom T-shirts, the latter of which she had so far been too scared to wear outside her dorm room. The handful of people Casey had seen so far on campus with obvious geek identifiers looked like exactly the kind of guys who made her feel uncomfortable or unwelcome at gaming groups and TV marathons in high school, and she hadn't wanted to be pigeonholed in with them by default.

Nothing in Casey's admittedly limited social experience, in other words, had suggested that gorgeous, athletic blondes with already-established social circle were likely to strike up conversations with her, at least not without ulterior motives. But then, everyone had told her—desperately promised her, in some cases—that college would be different; better. Cautiously, and making a conscious effort not to hunch sullenly or stare suspiciously sidelong at her classmate, Casey managed a mostly friendly-sounding Yeah, I've been working ahead. I'm... Too late, she realized that she was going to sound like a mega-nerd, but the words were already tumbling out: I'm actually done with the reading list through midterms. Committed, she added with a faint flush of embarrassed pride, "I read The Miller's Tale and The Faerie Queen in high school, so I'm just going to focus on the supplemental readings for those weeks. Casey did not add that she'd tackled Chaucer in the original Middle English, using her mostly-fluent French and a couple of online dictionaries to piece together the archaic language, rather than the translated" text in contemporary English that they were using for class.

Something like relief flickered across Emma's face, although the tall blonde was hard to read. It wasn't that she was aloof, exactly, or icy, but she certainly wasn't as exuberantly expressive (read: loud) as most of the other jocks Casey saw around. Her face was a smooth oval, tall and gracefully slender like the rest of her, and its default expression seemed to be polite calm.

I was interested in those, said Emma. I don't read critical articles for most of my classes. I'm a physics major; this is a distribution requirement for me. They swung off the dirt path and onto Broad Street, the main divider down the middle of campus, and Emma added, Have you declared a major yet? No, that's right, they don't let you until second semester, do they?

Casey nodded. They were coming up on the gap between two lecture halls where she normally cut over towards her dorm, and she could feel anxiety rising at the prospect of deciding whether to slow to a stop and talk standing in place, swing away and hope Emma followed, or ask where Emma was going and potentially commit herself to walking along—all perilous possibilities, from the perspective of someone whose longest conversations so far at college had been with her professors.

I don't know what I'll do yet, said Casey. I'm kind of all over the place. English, Psych, Bio, and French this semester. I'm going to do Bio and French again in the spring, and then I thought maybe Econ or pure Math or something even weirder... She realized she was starting to babble—the enthusiastic spill of words that ramped up in pitch and pace whenever a subject seized her attention—and she wound up hastily with a nervous laugh: I kind of want to study everything. But if you don't do the intros in time you get locked out of so much for your last couple years.

Emma smiled again, the same brief flash of white teeth before returning to her resting expression, and nodded in apparently sincere agreement. Physics takes up so much of my schedule now. But I like my distribution classes. They make me read things I wouldn't, otherwise. I liked to read, in high school. She tipped her head slightly towards Casey. I saw your pin. Do you like Dr. Who?

Casey blinked; looked down and then back up again stupidly. Why yes, her T.A.R.D.I.S. pin was still on the lapel of her flannel work shirt, where it had lived for years. Since Emma was still waiting politely for a reply, Casey nodded cautiously. Oh! Um. Yeah. It's...it's cute, you know? It's fun.

To Casey's enormous relief, Emma seemed to relax slightly, and smiled with more warmth than before. I loved the old shows when I was little, she said, in a slightly confessional tone. The tall blonde didn't exactly sneak a glance around before speaking, but she did scoot a little closer and lower her voice, as if she were revealing a deep, personal secret. Which, Casey supposed, she was, depending on the rest of her social circle. Did you...did you ever read any of the fanfic that's out there?

Casey could feel her heart starting to beat harder. She clamped her teeth down hard on the words I moderated a fanfic forum for like two years, and instead managed an only slightly strangled Y-yeah, it's out there. I, um, I read some.

The flash of teeth, again. A hint of sheepishness? Emma wasn't nearly as hard to read as Casey had thought from just seeing her in class—once you were talking one-to-one, it was easy to pick up on even small changes in expression, against that background reserve. They had both drifted to a halt by the path between lecture halls, without really seeming to notice.

I used to write it. To practice my English. Emma smiled hopefully. Casey blinked in surprise.

You're not...? I mean—you don't sound like English is...agh! Thoroughly tongue-tied, and dimly aware of a whole potential minefield of offensive things she could say, Casey gave up, but Emma just smiled reassuringly.

Ja, jeg er dansk, she said cheerfully, and then after a heartbeat pause, I'm Danish—my parents moved to America when I was seven. Of course, we had English in school, but TV helped me learn a lot of vocabulary.

"And you wrote fanfic in your second language?" Casey was genuinely impressed.

Emma shrugged modestly. There's not really a very big Danish-language community for it, as you might guess. And it helped me practice. She flashed her quick little smile again. "You've read fanfic. A Dane still working on her English writes better than some of the