Niemira took a pregnancy test as soon as she could after the sleepover—carefully hiding it from her parents—and when it came up negative she was so relieved she burst into tears.
On some level she had been sure she was pregnant—because she felt she deserved to be pregnant. Sure, she knew that she was being corrupted and controlled and blackmailed by the Candy Girls app, and that she hadn’t consented to Geoff fucking her and cumming in her unprotected pussy.
But she had orgasmed from that rape. And she had held her friends down so that Geoff could rape them too. She had lezzed off with those friends, and shared a mouthful of cum with Caity, and she had sucked a stranger’s cock in public. Falling pregnant—becoming a stereotypical pregnant teen slut who had ruined her life—was the least of what she deserved for being such a whore.
And she still couldn’t help drinking her “nutrient juice”. She knew it was cum now. Not just semen from humans, but also from animals. And it was mixed in with drugs that were making her stupider, sluttier, more submissive. No nice girl would go anywhere near such a disgusting drink—and yet Niemira found herself eagerly drinking it in the morning, the afternoon and the evening. Knowing what it was—and knowing it was addictive—just made it harder to resist. When she started feeling weird, she knew now that she needed to drink more cum, and resisting and continuing to feel more anxious seemed silly when she could make herself feel good so easily.
And what was so bad about it anyway? Girls around the world sucked cock and swallowed cum every day. It didn’t hurt them. It was natural for girls to make men cum. It was natural for them to swallow cum. She was just being a good girl.
If her thoughts became too confusing, too conflicted, there was always Candy Girls.
She knew she shouldn’t play it. She knew what it was doing to her. But she couldn’t stop—both because of the addictive hold it had over her, and because of the consequences it would visit upon her if she did. It helped that Caity had implied that there might be a way out of the trap—an escape from enslavement to the app, hidden at its deepest level. If she played more, she told herself, she had a better chance of finding that secret.
She spent most of the day after the sleepover in the world of the game, lying nude on her bed with the Candy Girls dildo shoved deep inside her fuckhole. She took pleasure in slapping Sherbet Giggle, again and again, far more than she needed to for the game, until Sherbet Giggles was crying. She liked that. Sherbet Giggles deserved to cry for being such a stupid whorish bitch. She deserved to be slapped and raped, for being a little lesbian skank who raped her friends and enjoyed drinking cum.
She wanted the game to ask her if Sherbet Giggles should be raped, so she could watch a boy push the little cow down and impregnate her, the way she should have been impregnated last time.
The app showed her photos of herself nude. It showed her lezzing off with Milky Treat and begging to be raped in the ice-cream store. It showed her orgasming from being raped by Geoff. It showed her nude photos of her friends.
The images were semi-transparent now, imposed over the game screen, and she had to kind of stare through them to see what she was doing in the game. It made her feel lightheaded and spacy, like she wasn’t real at all, like nothing was real, like the degradation and rape of her friends was just a movie she was watching—a sexy movie, that made her wet.
There were words, too. “YOUR FRIENDS DESERVE RAPE”. “IT’S FUN TO BE A FUCKDOLL”. “GOOD GIRLS LEZ IN PUBLIC.”
And every time the screen overflowed and her session ended, there were the words, followed by an agonising zap to her pussy, or a pleasant buzz of the vibrator.
“I deserve a name.” ZAP!
“I deserve rights.” ZAP!
“I deserve rape.” buzz
She hated the zaps. They felt like they were growing stronger, if anything, as she developed a tolerance to them, and they always made her feel like she was being turned off, like a doll without power, as she lost control over her muscles and her brain. And yet part of them felt good because she associated them with being aroused, with playing Candy Girls, with the reward of vibration that came afterwards.
But arousal was a trap, because the game taxed for her for orgasms. Sometimes it would just let her cum, but at other times as her orgasm neared, the dildo would shut off, and begin to shock her if she moved her hands near it, and the game would give her a choice.
“THIS IS YOUR LESBIAN GIRLFRIEND CAITY,” the game said on that first afternoon after the sleepover. It showed a photo that Niemira hadn’t seen before—Caity, completely nude, fucking her pussy with a rolling pin in what appeared to be her backyard. She felt her cunt squeeze around the dildo, and wished that she could masturbate.
“TO ORGASM, CHOOSE WHICH OF THESE OPTIONS MAKES YOU MOST AROUSED,AND ALLOW IT TO DEEPEN INTO AN UNCONTROLLABLE KINK,” the app continued. “(1) CAITY BEING RAPED BY MEN. (2) SHARING A CUM KISS WITH CAITY WHILE NUDE. (3) FUCKING CAITY’S FATHER WHILE CAITY WATCHES.”
And then just to emphasise Niemira’s helplessness. “KEEP STARING, AND AVOID CUMMING, TO CHOOSE NO OPTION.”
Niemira moaned. She knew she was weak. She knew she was a slut, and that she needed to cum. She knew that whatever she chose was going to be horrible and degrading, and that she could avoid it by just controlling herself, and putting her rational thought ahead of her cunt. But she couldn’t do that.
She chose option (2).
The screen of her phone went blank, showing a senseless buzzing mess of snow, like it did when Caity went up a level. She felt her mind go blank…
… and then it was some time later, and she was cumming powerfully, uncontrollably, moaning so loudly she worried her parents would hear, and the only thing she could think about was pressing her nude tits against Caity’s, and using her tongue to lick sperm out of the inside of Caity’s mouth.
She was still thinking about it that night, after hours of playing Candy Girls without the reward of a level-up. She had to masturbate to orgasm twice before she could sleep, and the only idea in her head was that fantasy of kissing Caity, of tasting cum in her mouth, of pushing her naked body hard against Caity’s…
If it were not for that sudden, overwhelming fantasy, she might not have been able to bring herself to go to school the next day.
Because when she woke in the morning, she suddenly remembered what the app had made her do recently.
Some days ago she had sent a text to Tyler Gabarden, who she hated, that had read “I masturbate to thoughts of being raped”.
And then at the ice-cream parlour she had sent Jeffrey Pak an email that included dozens of nude pictures of her, including videos where she begged to be raped.
What would they think of it? Tyler simultaneously hated her and lusted after her, and Jeffrey was a complete perv. Had they kept them to themselves? Shared them?
And there was another delivery from Candy Girls waiting on her doorstep when she got up. It contained more nutrient juice (of course), plus four pairs of panties (two of them completely see-through, and two of them crotchless), two bras (both half-cups that exposed her nipples), a tiny pink bimbo-ish skirt that didn’t come down far enough to fully cover her crotch, and a new shirt that showed a cartoonish silhouette of a hogtied big-breasted woman being fucked by a man, with the text, “NO MEANS SLAP ME UNTIL I SAY YES”.
She put on the crotchless panties and the half-cup bra under her school uniform, and went to school. She didn’t want to—but Caity would be there, and she needed to kiss Caity so badly that almost nothing else mattered.
As soon as she got to school, she knew that everyone had seen the photos—just as everyone had passed around the photos of Dawn when the Candy Girls app had leaked those. People were pointing at her surreptitiously, and laughing when they thought she wasn’t looking. Boys were looking at her in a whole new way—the way that they might look at a pretty girl, thinking about raping her. Thinking that maybe they could rape her, and get away with. Thinking that she might like it.
Niemira went bright red and avoided eye contact with everyone, and yet she could still feel the eyes on her, and she felt her cunt getting wet in response.
Sluts deserved shame, she knew.
To her frustration, she couldn’t find Caity anywhere before school. She sat through her first classes in a blank, oblivious state, not hearing anything that was taught to her. Her mind was just trapped on a loop, running through the degrading events of the sleepover—and in particular, the slutty kisses she had shared with Caity, that the Candy Girls app had deepened into an overwhelming fetish.
She realised that she wasn’t keeping up in school, and that if she kept paying attention to her cunt instead of her teachers she might not graduate at the end of the year, and yet she still couldn’t help herself. She was so wet that she soaked through the back of her skirt and left a wet patch on the classroom chairs.
At recess she finally found Caity as the other girl was leaving her science class.
“Meet me around behind the arts building,” she told Caity. “It’s important.”
Sure enough, Caity showed up in the isolated patch of concrete behind the arts classrooms shortly afterwards. “What is it?” she asked.
Niemira blushed. “I want to… i have to…”—she paused, and swallowed. “The game gave me a fetish. About you. About kissing you. Naked. With cum in our mouths. I need to…. Please, can you do it with me?”
Caity looked around. “Here? No! Someone will find us, Sherbet Giggles. They’ll see us. Especially if we’re naked.”
Niemira was practically whining. “But I need to,” she pleaded. “Didn’t the app ever give you a choice like this?”
“I looked away and chose not to cum,” snapped Caity. “Because I’m not a slut.” Which they both knew was a lie, but Niemira still cringed at the knowledge that Caity had been able to control herself, while Niemira had given in to the slutty demands of her fuckhole.
Niemira looked around. There was nobody nearby. She thought she was a little bigger and stronger than Caity—and anyway, she needed this to happen more desperately than Caity needed it not to.
“I’m sorry, Sugar Kitty,” she whispered—although she wasn’t sorry. Caity was just like Sherbet Giggles in the app—a disobedient slut who needed to be slapped until she took off her clothes and behaved herself. Caity deserved this. All girls who resisted their destiny as a slut deserved this.
She pushed Caity, hard, and Caity stumbled back until she hit the wall of the arts block behind her. Niemira followed up, pressing her body against Caity, and beginning to undo the buttons of Caity’s shirt.
“You’d better cooperate,” she said, “or I might rip your clothes.”
Caity struggled. “Please, no,” she whimpered.
Niemira didn’t hesitate. She slapped Caity across the face, hard.
“Sluts deserve shame,” she whispered. “Girls are for raping.”
And immediately, Caity stopped struggling. The slap, and the words, had flicked a switch in her brain, and while she was still clearly unhappy and humiliated, she allowed Niemira to undress her, until she was completely nude, right there on the school grounds, and then she waited submissively as Niemira undressed too.
“I need this so much,” moaned Niemira, once they were both nude. Then she opened a bottle of nutrient juice, poured some into her mouth until it was overflowing, drooling from her lips, and then she leaned in and kissed Caity, forcing the cum-and-drugs mixture into the other girl’s mouth using her tongue.
It was electric. It was just what Niemira had been fantasising about. Her body knew what to do instinctively. One hand went to Caity’s hair, gripping it, pulling Caity into the kiss. The other went to Caity’s tits, squeezing and rubbing them with desperate need. She forced a knee between Caity’s legs, and began to hump her wet pussy against Caity’s thigh.
Caity moaned, partly with fear and humiliation, partly with lust, and it just made Niemira wetter. It felt like the noise a girl should make—her natural sound, like the bark of a dog or the moo of a cow.
But there was another noise, too—and Niemira looked across to see a boy standing there. It was Dietr Gorse, from her grade, and there was a visible erection straining against his school pants, and a phone in his hand, filming the slutty performance Niemira and Caity were putting on.
Her whole body trembled with humiliation—and yet she couldn’t stop. Sluts deserve shame. She kissed Caity harder, preventing her from looking towards the boy, swirling the cum around between their mouths with her tongue, and humped Caity’s thigh harder…
.. and then she was cumming, and it was the best thing she had ever experienced, and for a brief moment she didn’t care about any of it—the game, the cum, the rape, the hypnosis, the humiliation, the ruination of her life. None of it mattered, if the result was that she got to feel this—the amazing orgasm of lezzing off, naked, with an unwilling girl in public.
And then the orgasm passed, and suddenly it did matter. She jerked away from Caity, reaching for her clothes. Caity whined in frustration, as she had not yet reached her own release—but Caity’s orgasm was Caity’s problem.
“Please,” she said to Dietr, as she tried to pull on her panties—but Dietr was already gone, along with his phone, and Niemira knew with sick certainty that before the day was out everyone would know what Niemira and Caity had done. They would know, because they would have watched it, in all its naked lesbian glory, on Dietr’s phone.
But wasn’t that just what Niemira deserved? For being a whore who raped her friends? Sluts deserved shame, she knew.
And if that wasn’t enough reason to know that she deserved it, she needed only look at Caity.
Because, after all, it wasn’t as though she wasn’t going to rape Caity again, in exactly the same way, tomorrow…