The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kit-Kat moved swiftly over the prostrate target. First she peeled up Brenna’s sweater and exposed her boobs, still nestled in a boring cotton bra. The bimbo produced a plain white bottle, and drizzled a teaspoon of green liquid onto each tit. Then, giggling, she massaged it into each breast, taking special care to rub it to a shine. Over the next week Brenna would fill out a few cup sizes, maybe a little more, and the solution produced very tender, sensitive nipples, too.

That done, she checked on Brenna’s hair. The girl was snoozing gently, head lolling back, and her brown locks had already turned a nice bright blonde. It worked well with her gold sweater, and made her face look pleasant, if vapid and dumb. Kit-Kat’s hair was resuming the same color, the black dye failing underneath the power of her transformed roots. The shampoo was powerful stuff, filling the girl’s unguarded mind with a intoxicating goo of dim, pleased happiness.

Kit-Kat rinsed the shampoo out, then checked her watch. The big hand was on the four, and the little hand was on the ten, which meant she had ten minutes before Brenna woke up, and twenty before the paid-off salon workers came back, as agreed. She used the time to paint a pretty pink gloss onto Brenna’s hands and feet, then twist a braid into both sides of the girl’s hair. She secured them with a twist tie, and stepped back to survey.

Brenna had walked into the salon a teenager playing dress-up, wearing unusual clothes and in a good mood. Now she was a wet dream in pink and blonde. One of those girls that couldn’t help but show off her panties, or let her tits fall out of a too-small top. Perfect.

“All done!” Kit-Kat chirped. “Can I go fuck myself now?”

“Use the nearest bathroom, and try and wait,” Jonathan directed. Kit-Kat had surprised him one evening, after a long screw had left her unusually all-together. She had made him an offer. To go to work, to be a valued employee instead of a toy and cleaning solution. Who better to bimbify then a bimbo?

And, in exchange, she would earn back her IQ, a few points at a time. She was Catherine for as long as an hour, these days, before Kit-Kat rose back to the forefront. Jonathan was considering changing her back for good, as a Christmas present. She was efficient, calming, devoted, and best of all, always up for a post-job fuck.

Brenna peered through bleary eyes and shifted back and forth.

Something was.. different..

Most of all, she had never been so instantly aware of her body when she woke up. It was like her titties and her pussy were doing rolecall. Her slit was moist and wet, and prickled with an insistent itch. Her boobs felt moist and hot.

Finally, belatedly, her mind came online. But it felt so fuzzy, not in a bad way, but like someone had stuffed it with happy clouds and pink cotton candy. Like that moment right after waking up late, on a summer morning. Or—and the truth of it struck her—after coming to from a post-orgasmic haze. There was a comforting heat there that just wanted to bask in sensation, or ripple under someone’s finger or tongue or more. She had never woken up so horny before.

She was about to absently finger herself when her so-sluggish mind mentioned that she was sitting in a glass-fronted mall salon.

Brenna opened her eyes wide, and swung her feet off the salon chair. She forgot that she was wearing high heels, and nearly tripped over herself before coming to a precarious rest in the center of the salon. The new blonde examined, trembling, her glossy, high-color nails. Her pigtails bounced across her shoulders, and she caught one, pulled it towards her. They made her look like a four-year old.

“I’m blonde?” she exclaimed, shocked. She looked around, for someone to blame. But Cathy had disappeared, and the entire salon was baffingly empty. The only thing there was a full-length mirror. Brenna stepped forwards it, slowly.

She was VERY blonde, and with her bulging sweater and pink nails she was the very image of a big, blossoming female. There was something permanent about it, too. Something beyond dress-up, showing off her pretty-good body in new and interesting ways. This was like a wholesale shift in sexuality, a demonstration that she was cheerful, pink, and more then a little slutty. About as bright as a sack of rocks.

There was a little card next to her chair. On it, in eyebrow liner, was written “Your too cute too be a brunette! Kit-Kat!!”

This was way out of hand, Brenna decided. Sure, the signals from her slit and boobs were indicating that it was time to relax, but wholesale image makeover was not what she had in mind. She flipped her pigtails back, checked her nails for flaws, and walked out of the salon. One foot in front of the other, making her way down the concourse. Undoing the braids never came to mind.

Her slit rubbed against itself, pushing wet fold against wet fold. Brenna’s body itched and complained. And it seemed like everyone in the entire mall was all about sex, sex, sex. A boy selling leather shoes was forcing high boots onto a dark-haired beauty in skintight jeans. He, quite unnecessarily, was stroking the back of her thigh as he pushed it up her leg. Her smile was dazzling, and she learned forward to let him look inside a black leather jacket.

In a candy store, a boy was feeding his co-ed employee bits of truffles, one at a time. The redhead had an eager expression for more sweets, but let him carefully rub it all along her already-wet lips before feeding her a choice square of expensive milk chocolate. Dribbles of black stained her apron, which was half-undone.

Brenna groaned. Did the whole world just want to sit back and get fucked? Even in pigtails and heels she mostly just—fit in. And the sense of boys looking at her, caressing her with long looks, staring at her exposed ass.... it was.... overpowering. She had to get out of here—find a place to calm down—to think—and not just that, to wash off the strange, sticky residue on her tits.

“She’s peaking!” Jonathan exclaimed. His cock shifted in his pants. They were making progress, slow and surely. Yes, there was resistance, but Brenna was floating in a sea of sex and hormones, and just a few more careful nudges... “Get in there!”

The target slowed to a stop. She stroked gently at the bottom of her tits, and licked her lips as she looked around.

Brenna stood and watched a trio simply make out, near a water fountain. A trio, not a duo—one slender blonde with big glasses and a hungry expression, her back leg up in the air. Another brunette wearing a slinky white dress, pleading for more kisses from a pleased-looking guy.

“Brenna?” someone said.

She turned. It was that barrista—the one with the stupid soul patch—what was his name... Darren! And he was holding a bag out to her. She looked at it, confused.

“That thing you had to return?” he said, gently.

“Oh!” Michael’s box! She had completely forgotten.. and he had been so nice to her, giving her his charge card...

“Well, look at you!” Darren said, admiring. His eyes flitted up and down. There was a lot more ground to cover on Brenna, now. “Went for an upgrade, huh?”

“What? You like it?” Brenna exclaimed. The compliment burned inside of her head. “I look like somebody’s anime wet dream. I don’t know what I was thinking. And I’m blonde now!”

“A body like yours was wasted on a brunette. And I love the sweater.”

Brenna looked up, eyes shining. Each compliment savaged her intellect, replacing it with a glowing sense of contentment. “Really?” she whispered. He thought she was pretty? A hot guy like him, with a cool job as a barrista? If a guy said it, it had to be true, right?

“Oh, absolutely. Turn sideways,” Darren said. He manhandled her, turning her around. His hands grazed at her ass and chest. He seemed so perfectly comfortable, arranging her body how he liked it. Brenna’s tits burned with the attention. Why had she worn such basic, tedious underwear? At least something black...

“Look at that. Your boobs are absolutely smoking hot like this,” Darren assured her.

“Really?” Brenna nearly squealed. The compliments led to unexpected, un-fightable blasts of pleasure. She wanted his touch again, even in the center of the mall, with everyone watching.

“I love them,” Darren said. He cupped them—in front of everyone!—and then let his hands trail down her sides. “Whew. Sexy girl like you needs an escort.”

“Maybe you can help me with that?” Brenna said, anxious. God, he was so cute. She felt so eager, so vulnerable—anxious to find out where his hand would roam next. Up her skirt? She could only hope.

“I think I can prolong my break,” Darren said. His hand went—yes!—onto her backside, and found the fringe between skin and skirt. A little strip of hot skin he could stroke. “We should get you some more outfits, if you like this one. Maybe some shorts... a scoop top...”

Brenna tried to keep up the flirting, but his hand on the back of her thighs was sucking up all remaining brainpower. She settled for an approving coo. He thought she was pretty! A big-boobed babe. Her! Brenna!

Suddenly he was moving her around again, ducking the both of them into an alcove between an old, unused kiosk and a cell phone store. His back sheltered them from the crowd, and he was kissing her. She responded, hungry for it, and let him push her between the faux-cement and his own insistent hardness. God, right now, it was like something out of a naughty novel. She was drunk with him, his leather, male scent, frazzling her weak inhibitions. Brenna imagined that finger of his reaching to the front of her skirt, pulling her shamefully-boring underwear aside—and...!

He pulled away.

Brenna was confused, startled. Her body was on fire, lubricated and ready, drunk with the need for his touch. What.. why not...

“And that’s the end of my break,” Darren said, checking his watch. “So long, Brenna. Glad I could give you your bag back.”

He stepped back, put his hands in his pockets, and walked back towards his kiosk. Legs trembling, Brenna sagged against the side of the mall. She needed something, anything, inside of her. A horny girl like her, left unfulfilled...

Fortunately, Darren had left her right next to a girl’s bathroom. Brenna dashed inside.

“That was a crime, Jon,” Darren said. He tried to pass it off, but it was clear that his point man wasn’t happy about stopping half-way “Usually you just let me finish her off.”

“I’m letting Kit-Kat handle this one,” Jon explained. “I want her to test the new vibrator. The client paid for a clit enlargement and I want to handle this without a follow-up treatment.”

“Kit-Kat is too dumb to flush a toilet,” Darren scoffed. “She’ll fuck it up. You should’ve let me fuck her silly, then we could just do what we want.”

“Then you’ll get your chance. But lets see.”

There were three girls in the bathroom adjusting their lipstick. Which meant, in this mall at this hour, glopping more on. Covering their lips in nearly identical shades of red, and adding thick layers of blush. They almost seemed to be egging each other on, competing to see who would turn herself most into a living doll.

Brenna found her way into an empty stall. The skirt made access easy—just stick a finger up her slit and push away. Her stomach clenched and unclenched with need and frustrated desire. But she couldn’t—not with so many people around. Masturbating ruthlessly in a cell stall, it was just too much, even for a sexy little number like herself. She was sexy, not... not a slut, right? The new blonde tapped on the outside of her panties and grimaced, watching the heels of the girls outside.

“Leave!” she begged.

That was when a moan erupted from the stall next door.

It was self-satisfied and confident, and there was no mistaking what made it. Brenna looked over. All she could see were platform heels, done up in acrylic, with a pink bow tracing down the back. Both feet were starting to spread wider and wider, until one of the heels poked into her stall. Brenna could only imagine how wide her legs must be. And the girl’s toes were flexing wildly.

Someone was masturbating, separated from her only by an inch thing piece of tin wall. It was hot.

“I just have to be less loud then her,” Brenna rationalized, and finally pushed her sodden underwear aside. She closed her eyes, let herself push upwards towards the waiting folds of her clit. It was red and beaded with moisture, and a slight whimper escaped her. Her own legs started to creep apart. Brenna resolved to keep them just a little more together then her whorish neighbor.

The three girls at the mirror milled about, then left. Brenna opened her eyes, looked right. The girl in the neighboring stall had pushed light blue panties all the way down, and there was a slight tear along the elastic waistband. Brenna copied, shoving her own wet panties towards the ground, and exulting in the warm feeling it left behind. She was starting to moan, too, in countertime to the slut just next to her. Brenna watched her toes, as they started to spasm and shake. Her neighbor was really getting wild, shaking back and forth, nearly hitting Brenna’s leg with her own. And then, finally, a long, drawn-out scream, followed by a pitter-patter of relieved giggles. A drop of lubricant landed on the ground. Brenna stared at it.

Brenna felt like she was floating. Her finger—two fingers—worked furiously at her clit. How hot—how carefree—how FUN to just come in and masturbate to orgasm, liberated as could be! It wasn’t slutty... it was free! Never constraining her body, letting herself cum at will.

“Hey,” said a voice with sugar in it, exhausted. “Take this.”

The girl next door reached underneath the stall and presented a dark black vibrator. It was at least eight inches long, and dripped. A used vibrator, then.

It was filthy, of course. But Brenna had just witnessed the heights of pleasure the bimbo next to her had achieved. She picked the vibrator up, and noticed how her nails matched the slut’s. Bright pink.

“Thanks!” Brenna whispered back.

She was already eagerly placing it at the entry to her own slit. A flip of the switch turned it on, and the big number hummed and shook in her hand. An electric current hit her brain once she stuck it in, a thousand volts of sexual ectasy arcing from overloaded brain to clit and back. She started to shake herself, and accidentally rammed the massive tool in, letting it bump all the way back along the rear end of her slit. Brenna almost lost her grip, shaking and screaming as the vibrator did its job, exciting her clit to a breaking point. She was drooling, now, past caring, letting the vibrator rewire her nerve endings. Letting it excite and stimulate her clit, doubling and redoubling the sensation, encouraging it to grow and grow.

Brenna came, and only dimly heard the whispered, repeated “good slut... good slut..” from next door. But her mind heard. She fell limply backwards, and the vibrator kept plugging away, shaking her hips, changing her.

It was some time later before she managed to remove the thing, turn it off, and put it in her purse. Then the newly minted slut stepped out of her underwear, washed her hands, and walked back out into the mall.

“I think we’re about done here, ladies and gentlemen,” Jonathan announced, relieved. Just in time, too. The mall inhabitants were approaching a point of real reprogramming. It was starting to turn into an orgy, down there. The girls in the frozen yogurt store were testing to see just how large nipples could get if you pressed an ice cube against one. Stores were filled to capacity with frenzied shoppers, exchanging casual jeans and t-shirts for shorts, lingerie, and expensive silk tops. Girls with boyfriends pressed up against them, mewing and moaning, looking for stimulation.

Brenna picked her way through the mall, lubricant running down her legs, a dizzy smile on her face. She was ready for delivery.

“Brenna? Brenna, is that you? What the hell?” someone said. A girl’s voice.

Brenna turned, blinking and serene. A boring-looking girl emerged from a card store, dressed in sensible wool and a heavy pair of khakis. Plus a flat pair of nailed boots. She was petite, asian, and instantly horrified.

“Oh, Janice!” Brenna said, waving, still glowing from a half-dozen orgasms. “What’s up with you!”

Impulsively, she hugged her friend. Janice drew back, assaulted by a pair of tits and the scent of pussy juice, and made a face.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” she said, shocked. “You look like a cheap hooker! Is this some sort of stupid joke? You look like some kind of dumb slut!”

“I’m a... dumb slut?” Brenna said. Her head suddenly throbbed. She nearly doubled over, so confused it hurt. Wasn’t it good to be a slut? Then why was Janice so unhappy? “Dumb... slut?”

“DAMN it!” Jonathan exclaimed, standing up. He hit full-volume on the speakers, reprogramming be damned, and the mall rocked with noise. Girls in dressing rooms squeezed their eyes shut and fingered needy tits. Boys humped girlfriends against walls and behind counters. Kisses were long, searing hot, and ended with the girl rubbing her hand along the boy’s crotch. Libidos danced to the music.

“Darren! Drug the friend! Full dose! Jason! Give her everything you’ve got on my mark! Kit—” Kit-Kat was still in the bathroom stall, knocked out from a baker’s dozen of orgasms. “Fuck!”

“You’re going to burn her out,” Darren warned. “She’s just going to be a fuck doll! Is that what you want?”

“I’m not losing this target!” Jonathan thought, furiously. “Wait! Hold back, for my mark!”

Brenna was a mess. Her face was a mask of uncertainty, peering down at an underdressed, oversexed body she only seemed to half-recognize.

“Have you been drinking, or something?” Janice said, suddenly compassionate. She sniffled, and rubbed at her nose. Stupid cold made it hard to hear. “Look, lets get you out of here. People are acting weird. We’ll get you dressed properly and we can talk about... whatever the hell is wrong with you.”

“Yeah... I... I guess?” Brenna said. She let the shorter girl lead her along.

“What now?” the client growled. “You’ve already got all my money.”

Jonathan tried hard to hide the panic in his voice. “Yes, well, we’ve actually had a rare opportunity come along, sir,” he explained, as politely as he could. His finger tapped through his dossier on Brenna. There she was—Janice. Same class and grade. Good friends. And there was her cell number, praise be. “Are you familiar with Brenna’s friend Janice?”

“Janice. Little korean girl? Yeah, why?”

“She’s just happened to come along. And we thought, why not make it two for one? She’s got a nice ass, slender figure. Of course, we wouldn’t do a full job on her. She’d really just be good for sucking and fucking.”

The client couldn’t hide a note of interest. “Yeah?”

“She could be a bit of a toy for you and yours, you know? And a friend for Brenna, of course. Someone to play dress-up with.”

“Get down to it, Jonathan. How much?”

“Half off,” Jonathan said.

“Ehh...”

“And we’ll throw in big tits, for gratis,” Jonathan added, quickly.

The client let out a low sigh. “I’ll do it. Damn you. I’ll take her. I’ll be there in a half-hour. Got it?”

“Perfectly,” Jonathan said. He risked a glance down. They were already near the exit. Shit! “Gottogo, so long!”

He switched to the mic. “Darren, drug her! Now!”

Something pricked Janice on the butt.

She whirled, but there was no one there except for a barista with a stupid soul patch, whistling innocently as he walked away. And a fat boy staring at the ground, scuttling towards them.

Janice rubbed her butt. That had hurt. Some sort of... sting?

“Anyway,” she said, trying to concentrate. “Brenna, are you not wearing any underwear?”

“I kind of lost it,” Brenna said. She looked up at Janice with puppy-dog eyes, hanging on her every word. Janice rubbed at her eyes. She was dizzy, all of a sudden, confused.

“Brenna, you’re acting like a... hold on.” Her cell rang. Janice picked it up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that fat kid in the trenchcoat approaching.

There was no one on the other end. Just a slight ringing, a distant voice... Janice pushed her ear into the receiver.

“YOU ARE A STUPID, SILLY FUCK TOY,” a voice boomed at her. It rang inside of her head, back and forth, echoing through the stunned recesses of her mind. Then followed by an unstoppable tide of sex images and sounds—Janice fucking, Janice sucking, Janice fucking two guys, Janice getting her ass penetrated by a dildo, Janice on her knees surrounded by a quartet of men, all spurting cum onto her.

It was overwhelming, an unstoppable conclusion, frying anything that didn’t agree with the truth—she was a stupid, silly fuck toy. Education and contradictory personality traits evaporated or dissolved, as if they hadn’t been there. Her libido filled the void.

Janice looked around with new eyes. She was in a—mall, that was the word. Where they sold—stuff. And there was her friend Brenna, looking sooo cute in pink and gold! Janice gasped and reached out towards her friend’s boobs. She pawed at them, amazed at how soft and firm they were.

Brenna giggled. “What are you doing, silly?”

Janice looked puzzled, then up at her with earnest, happy eyes. Why was she wearing such boring clothes? She was a toy, she should be full of happy colors!

“I’m a stupid... silly... fuck toy?” she said, in a soft, pleased voice.

Brenna hugged her, overjoyed. “That’s so hot!” she exclaimed. “Lets go get you dressed up! My treat!”

Jason doubled over, clutching at his head. His jeans were stained wet with weeks worth of bottled up cum. He barely managed to reach a trash can before throwing up, then sat down next to it on the floor. He would be useless for another day, at least.

Jonathan put the cell down, and watched the two girls skip cheerfully away towards another clothing store. This one catering to fetishwear and sexy lingerie. Janice followed in Brenna’s wake, watching her every move.

“Darren, pick them up, we’re sending them out.

“Do you like this one?” Brenna said, picking out a blue latex dress. It was hard to find clothes small enough to fit Janice. She looked shattered every time Brenna picked out something low-cut to wear, and it didn’t fit just right. She also kept rubbing at her own tits or slit, which Brenna found just adorable, and also pretty hot.

They had been lucky to find a dressing room. All the others were full of girls, often with a guy or two in tow. Some were still supposedly trying on clothes, but from the amount of knees on the floor Brenna was pretty sure they were sandwiched by blowjobs.

Janice pulled off her current dress. They had decided—or Brenna had decided—early on to match up in white knee socks and teetering pink heels. Brenna had already determined to put Janice’s hair up in pigtails, so they’d be even more matchy-matchy. The slight asian girl hadn’t shown the slightest bit of resistance to anything, although she couldn’t seem to keep her hands away from herself. It was giving Brenna some fun ideas for later, too—a tiny pink tongue lapping at her slit.

Her friend pulled her body into the latex sheath. Luckily, she was nice and sweaty, so it slid on without any additional lubrication. Janice looked in the mirror.

“I’m so pretty!” she gushed, and her hands rushed immediately to her pussy. Grinning, Brenna let her shove a finger up the front of the dress, and push at her needy cunny. It WAS a perfect dress, tight at the top, and so short on the bottom that Janice showed off a wide length of smooth thigh.

Brenna had changed, as well. Into tight white shorts that hugged her charms, and a blue bodyshirt that was as shiny as could be. It wrapped along her tender tits, and showcased the nice white lace bra Brenna had picked up, as well. Her boobs seemed puffier then she remembered.

“Brenna?” a man said, in a low, worried voice. “Are you in here?”

“Soul patch!” Brenna exclaimed, clapping her hands together. His name had receded into the background mist that filled her head. “We’re in here!”

“Where’s here?”

“In the clothes room!”

“Which is—nevermind. I’ll find you.”

He opened the door a moment later, after interrupting two enthusiastic couples in neighboring stalls. Darren was confronted by two eager girls, one primping blonde pigtails in the mirror, the other sitting on a low bench, stroking herself and giggling softly. They both clapped their hands when he walked inside, excited by the idea of guy in close proximity. Brenna wrapped one leg around him, and started them off with a long, wet kiss. Her tongue looked inside his mouth for something, and seemed to find it.

Darren moved his hands up to her tits, underneath their satin shirt. They were already puffy and swollen from the mixture, a prelude to several weeks of highly pleasureable growth. Brenna purred in his mouth, wrapping herself around him, soaking in the nearness of a hot guy. She rubbed one perfect thigh up and down his leg, needy and wet.

Which is when he felt a small hand tugging down his zipper. Darren counted both of Brenna’s hands behind him, so he wasn’t surprised to see Janice on her knees, pulling on his stuck zipper. She finally managed it, and then moved on to his pants button. Brenna cheerfully made room for her best friend and dress-up doll, and Darren was too distracted by her eager kissing to stop her.

Janice moved fast once the puzzles of zipper and button were out of the way. She shoved his pants down, then walked forward on her knees towards the bobbing length of his cock. Darren wanted to protest—he was there to fuck Brenna, to seal in her programming, and get her so knocked out with orgasms that she could be escorted to the escort. But Janice had him in her mouth in seconds, and she hardly hesitated, swallowing the shaft until the tip bobbed at the back of her throat. Giggling around the dick in her mouth, the dazzled girl wrapped her tongue around the underside of his cock, and teased at the tip. Her free hand hadn’t stopped moving underneath her dress.

Darren grunted. She was kittenish, dressed in fetishwear, and utterly involved in her feverish strokes. It was impossible to resist. He started to thrust back, challenging her control, forcing the girl to bob along with his erratic, grunting pushes. Janice was in love, at peace, bathed in a never-ending glow of arousal and warmth. When he grabbed her head, she swooned, and each drip of precum was like a shot of cupcake frosting.

Brenna gradually noticed that Darren was getting seriously distracted. She broke the kiss, puzzled, and only then glanced down at the action at waist height. A lazy smile peeked across her face, and she lowered herself down, to better watch the slick shaft move between Janice’s lips.

“You two are so cute,” she gushed, watching it slide back and forth. “You look like you’re having so much fun.”

She had to step back, as the twosome were getting wild, bucking hips and face together in a violent frenzy. Bits of spittle and cum splashed across Brenna’s shirt.

The new blonde watched them for a minute.

Then she got up, and quietly closed the dressing room door behind her.

She had one more thing to take care of.

Jonathan was already celebrating another successful bimboization in his usual way—several belts of scotch from a flask. Expensive, old stuff. He had already shut down the fuck music, and the mall was beginning to turn back to normal. Boys and girls separated, sheepish, and tried to ignore wet spots just beneath the belt. New couples, brought together by hormones and sound, tried to figure out if they had anything else in common besides genitalia and lust. Store owners shooed the still-close twosomes and threesomes out of the stores, and set down to count an amazing bounty of lingerie, miniskirt, and stocking sales.

The Director sprayed a quarter-quart of booze out of his nose when he saw Brenna padding through the mall, every inch of her glorious, sensual girl, and unescorted. She reeked of sex and need, bathing in a glow of happiness and arousal. And completely alone.

“Darren, where the fuck... Darren!” All Jonathan could hear on his end was grunting and little-girl coos from a truly fantastic blowjob. The Director looked around. Jason was useless, spent and burnt out on a bench, hardly able to stand. Kit-Kat had passed out from an overload of orgasms in the bathroom stall, and would be gone for at least another hour. His entire team was out of commission, and there the target was, walking around without a care.

“Got to do.... everything... myself!” Jonathan said, seething. He left his laptop and other items on the bench, unwatched. They were incredibly expensive and custom-tailored. The mall cops would just have to do an unusually good job. He turned back. Brenna was gone.

Now where had the silly slut gone?

“Hi Patrick,” Brenna said, her eyes sparkling.

She felt light and airy, like an angel, an angel with great tits and a beautiful body. A form built for sex and fun, and missing only one thing: a cock, a real one, to finally bring her off properly.

Patrick looked about to say something, but his eyes said enough. He gaped at her boobs, all wrapped up nice in silk and lace, upturned and pointy underneath a sexy blue shirt with no sleeves. Then he gazed down at her kneesocks, the tight promise of her shorts. His mouth worked, but nothing coherent came out.

That was fine. Brenna simply walked up to the boy and kissed him. More then that. She ran her tongue over his lips, promising more. Her chest poked against his, and just the slight sensation on her nipples was fun and hot. His cock pushed out, and she bounced it off her shorts, eager for it. One hand wrapped around his back, and the other grabbed at his crotch, pulling at the cock she needed so very badly.

“Brenna, we—not here—Brenna, fuck, you’re divine! But—we’re in public!”

She was past caring. Brenna would fuck on live TV, if a cameraman happened by. But—“Take me somewhere, anywhere. Come on,” she said, pulling him closer. “Hurry uppppp!”

The blonde made sure he put a hand on the center of her ass, and was extra-pleased-happy when he rubbed it up and down the scratchy denim, feeling at the taut, hot skin underneath. She pushed her hips up against his, and giggled when his hand wandered towards the center of her butt, then underneath to tickle.

The couple burst through an old set of loading bay doors, into a long corridor barely lit by two overhead lights. The room smelled of shipping and cardboard packages. Brenna turned against the wall, anticipating, and was delighted when Patrick crushed her against the cold concrete, pinning her fragile body between him and her. His cock was straining already, looking to penetrate the confines of their clothes. The weight of him was so enticing, so delicious—a bold declaration that she was his to command. Brenna twisted one long leg around his, and urged him closer, peckering him with fevered kisses.

Patrick was through kissing. He pulled open her button, then her fly, and forced the white shorts down over the skim of her hips. Half of her underwear went down with it, exposing the slight fur between her thighs. It was drenched and wet, even sodden, and the cold air just inflamed it. Brenna was delirious with need, with delight, yanking at her lover’s own pants. “Come onnnn..” she kept whining, but Patrick didn’t seem to mind. He helped her with his pants, then finally, at length, pulled out his bright purple-and-red cock.

There was a moment of geometry, as the twosome aligned for penetration. Then Patrick was inside her, pushing at her buttons, releasing a half-day’s worth of need. The blonde beauty sighed and relaxed, even as she started to hump forward and back, pushing her bare ass against the stone. Unnoticed, her panties slowly fell to the ground.

Her boy had two hands underneath her ass. Brenna lifted first one leg, then another, and giggled at the realization that she was entirely off the ground. Her man had surprisingly strong arms, and cradled her in them, ramming her entire body up and down the length of his shaft.

“This is sooo good,” Brenna thought, between jangles and distracting flashes of pleasure. She could already feel a super-fun orgasm approaching, like the sunset. She was super-hot, too much fun to contain, too much girl to hold back. All the boring wisps of Presentation and College had already fled her body, helpless before the allures of hands on her titties, cocks in her cunny. Everything was just... perfect!

Patrick was nearly brutal, shoving his cock straight in, with just the slightest twist of his hips. She whispered to him, giggling over the words. “Come on (giggle) cum inside of me (titter) you’re so good with that thing.”

She rubbed her hands on his chest, and he grunted. There was a warm, wet feeling inside of her, and Brenna realized with utter contentment that she was full of his seed.

Then her orgasm hit her, unexpected, and everything went dark.

“So where the fuck are they?” the client snarled, in the valet turnaround. The valet took one look at his red, twisted-up face, and stayed prudently away.

“Any moment now,” Jonathan said, his face blank and bright. Where the fuck were they? He had tried Brenna’s cell, and nobody had picked up.

Darren walked through the mall exit. He had Janice curled protectively in his arms, a doll of sexual satisfaction. Darren had wiped her face clean, but Jonathan’s practiced eye noticed her dripping onto his arm from down under. The new slut was passed out, exhausted and happy.

“Ah, and here’s Janice,” Jonathan said, stalling. “You’ll notice she’s grade-A sex kitten, flexible and inexhaustible....”

“She looks exhausted to me. Brenna! Where the fuck is Brenna! It’s five-fucking-fifteen!”

Jonathan took one last look around, despairing. Satisfaction was guaranteed, and the client wasn’t going to be satisfied if Brenna showed up a day later, having whored herself to every cock in reach.

“Well... I guess...”

And just then, she walked through the door.

A ray of sunlight hit her. The blonde, shimmering hair, up in ridiculous little-girl pigtails. Then down to the already-plumper breasts, cradled within a brief, tight shirt. Even Jonathan lingered on the little bit of thigh he could see between socks and shorts.

“Daddy!” she shouted, and waved enthusiastically. She skipped over to them, comfortable in high heels. She leaned over the side of the convertible—exposing a picture-perfect ass—and gave Michael a warm and heartfelt kiss. Her eyes dropped momentarily to his pants, and she giggled, suggestively. “Thanks for coming to get me! I had a really good time at the mall! Sorry to keep you waiting! I had to do... something.”

Then, without being asked, she hopped into the backseat and waited for whatever Michael chose to do.

“...I’m glad to see you’re satisfied, sir,” Jonathan said. His face was calm. His fingers dug into the side of the car, painfully, still shaking.

“Yes. I guess I am,” Michael said. He leaned back to drink in another look. Brenna was coaxing Janice back to wakefulness, nuzzling at her ear. “Thank you, Jonathan. You seem to have done a masterful job.”

He put the car into gear, but Jonathan didn’t let go of the side. He leaned over, and took a look back and forth.

“What?” Michael said, distracted. Janice had woken up, and the two girls were locked in a welcoming, touch-friendly embrace. There was tongue involved.

“I hate to mention this, sir,” Jonathan said. He smiled, once again.

“But this is something of a tipping situation.”