The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The music was already pumping in Beta Theta Fi despite the early hour, and the chapter house was bustling with party prep as the members hyped themselves up for the biggest mixer of the semester.

Hopeful pledges swept, mopped, and polished under the diligent watch of their senior brothers until everything gleamed with a mirror sheen. Kegs were rolled in through the garage, and a seemingly endless supply of red solo cups were unpacked on a ping-pong table set up in the dining room.

Jay had to admit that Greek life was good at Madison University as he answered a knock at the door. If tonight went to plan, he and his bros would all be swimming in sweet college girl poon before the clock struck midnight.

“Hey, Bruh. The party doesn’t start until five.” He told the scrawny youth standing on the front patio of their colonial-style frat house. “And the invite included a dress code. Can I see yours?”

Jay doubted this guy made the guest list. Dressed in a too-large gray hoodie, blue jeans that looked more faded with time than any aesthetic design, and scuffed off-white sketchers. He was short with mud-brown hair, downy cheeks, and weary gray eyes that belonged to someone several years his elder.

“I’m not here for the party. The name’s Fin. I’m Dale’s hookup.” The stranger held up a phone that was three generations behind the latest release with a WhatsApp chat on the screen. Dale’s username ‘BigDaleEnergy’ was prominently displayed. “He told me to be here at four to deliver the goods.”

“Well shit, dude. Why didn’t you just say so?” Jay grinned, extending a fist to bump. “Come on in—Dale’s in the kitchen out back. I’ll take you to him.”

Fin reciprocated the bro handshake, if a tad awkwardly, before following him into the expansive home and letting out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Nice digs. You boys are really living it up here on Fraternity Row, huh?”

“It’s all about brotherhood.” The muscular frat boy waved away the well-appointed surroundings as though walnut wainscoting and high crown mold ceilings were commonplace decorations. “Living with over thirty other dudes doesn’t work without it. Too many swinging dicks under one roof, you get me?”

“Sure. Sounds like a real penance compared to dorm living.” Fin said, noting the expensive leather wraparound couches and a seventy-inch flatscreen with three different consoles attached in the living room. “Did I read somewhere this house was recently heritage-listed?”

“Totally. A couple of state senators who were Beta Theta Fi members back in the day wanted to preserve the legacy.” Jay nodded with pride, leading him through a swinging service door. “And here’s the man of the hour. Hey, Dale! Do you know this delinquent?”

The kitchen was large, featuring gleaming marble countertops, modern stainless steel appliances, two huge double-door fridges, and plenty of natural light streaming through tall arched windows.

An objectively handsome, well-built senior with neat sandy blonde hair rocking an ocean blue polo shirt tucked into pressed chino slacks looked up from a hushed conversation with a dark-haired beauty and her attached-at-the-hip boyfriend if the possessive arm around her waist was any indication.

“Oh shit. You’re Fin?” Dale asked after introductions were made. “The guy with the extra special gear, right?”

Fin decided to get ahead of the inevitable questions, unzipping his jacket to reveal the fanny pack slung diagonally across his narrow chest.

“Yeah, that’s me. You contacted me for some very specific product.” He replied, opening the pouch and fishing out two small baggies of fine golden powder. “This is the primo grade. One hundred percent pure, unadulterated Do-Me Dust to spice up your party tonight.”

The three seniors looked uncertain, but the brunette’s eyes widened in recognition. She cupped a hand around her partner’s ear to whisper urgently, flushing with excitement.

“Really? From the Sigma Chi party last week? The one campus security had to break up with fire hoses?” He asked, looking startled. “I thought those rumors were a joke.”

The young woman shook her head vehemently, her gaze glued to the glittering baggies. Jay just shrugged with a goofy expression while Dale’s brows lifted in speculation.

“I’ve heard the same rumors. It’s not dangerous, is it? No toxic chemicals or funky magical fallout? Some of the girls coming tonight are… disinclined to trust anything fae-touched or unnatural.”

That was putting it lightly. Ever since the Celestial Conjunction had realigned the Fae realm and mortal plane of existence, there had been a lot of pushback against the reintroduction of magic and the Fae Folk themselves staining the fabric of modern society, especially from the privileged and elite who had the most to lose from the radical changes they inevitably wrought.

No amount of fairy tales and bedtime stories could entirely encapsulate the otherworldliness of the mythical beings, nor the arcane power they brought with them. Magic could defy almost every scientific principle humanity comprehended, and the Fae themselves were fascinating and uncanny in the truest sense of the word.

But their greatest sin—at least as far as the majority of Earth’s population born without a Y chromosome viewed it—was that the vast majority of The Folk were devastatingly feminine, aggressively gorgeous, and desperately horny to boot.

Because the Fae Realm had been slowly dying as the number of male births dwindled over the millennia of separation. But now the fairies, pixies, nymphs, forest spirits, elves, and all manner of other creatures of legend had finally returned…

And each and every one of them was bat-shit baby-crazy.

“It’s ethically sourced and completely organic, with zero chemical additives,” Fin assured the preppy chapter president. “Like pot, except it makes everyone mad horny, and girl’s panties fly off. My word on it. That’s a money-back guarantee.”

The pretty brunette was still whispering rapidly in her boyfriend’s ear, and it was his turn to grow red in the cheeks. Fin didn’t need to hear the scuttlebutt surrounding the ‘Sigma Chi incident,’ as the school paper was calling it. He knew firsthand the arousing effects of his special golden dust.

Dale caught the direction the wind was blowing like a seasoned socialite and dug out his billfold. It was fat and green with a silver clip shaped like a dollar sign.

Fin had never felt poorer. He only owned a wallet.

“We’ll take everything you’ve got. How much?”

In a fit of economically-equalizing peak, Fin named an outrageous figure. He had a dozen more little ziplock bags in his fanny pack, and these future fat cats could afford a good fleecing.

Student debt was a harsh reality, after all.

“Jay, take a collection from every member,” Dale ordered, handing over the stack of cash, fancy money clip included, without hesitation. “Sigma Chi can eat our asses. After tonight Beta Theta Fi will be cock of the walk at Madison U.”

“Sure thing, Bruh. You going to put the moves on Heather at last? I saw her name on the guest list.”

Fin was too busy counting Benjamins to witness the predatory smile splitting the sandy-haired senior’s face.

“I guess we’ll see where the night takes us.”

Heather Martin of the New Hampshire Martins breezed up the front path of Beta Theta Fi’s manor-esque chapter house in strutting lockstep with her sorority sisters.

There was a long line waiting for admission, but she shooed them aside with a flick of a perfectly manicured hand. Everyone who was anyone knew her by reputation and those who didn’t were simply swept out of the way by her glamorous appearance and imperious personality.

Delta Xi Gamma was the cream of the crop by every standard of raw beauty, wealth, and entitlement, and she was their Queen.

Pledge candidates were weighed on a digital bathroom scale before being permitted to apply, and the harsh dietary restrictions forced on prospective new sisters bordered on a war crime. Social connections had to be confirmed, and bank balances checked.

Any applicant without a body weight in the dangerously low three figures and an account total in the high sixes was at immediate risk of dismissal.

And, of course, they had to be stunningly beautiful. Heather wasn’t about to tarnish her precious Sorority’s reputation by allowing a bunch of fuggly riff-raff into their pristine ranks.

Certainly not any filthy Fae sluts. What had the University board been thinking when they decided to open Madison U to the feral creatures?

Delta Xi Gamma—her Delta Xi Gamma—was the gleaming capstone at the tippy-top of the pyramid of exclusivity and superiority that was bread and butter for young women of her enviable caliber.

Heather adored how people fawned and fell over themselves just to please her. Even more, she loved watching them wither when she denounced those same efforts as wanting. Insufficient. Never good enough to warrant the attention of someone with her stratospheric levels of standing.

She knew she was gorgeous. Sleek and svelte in figure. Lean and flexible from a childhood filled with ballet classes and competitive gymnastics, honed to a razor’s edge by daily hot yoga and countless hours of exhausting pilates.

Silky platinum hair wafted diaphanously around her show-stopping face, and perky breasts filled out the drooping neckline of her slinky emerald club dress. Only the barest hint of makeup touched her exquisite features, accentuating the dazzling perfection god had gifted her.

Charlize and Stacy sashayed a step behind Heather, both model-worthy beauties in their own rights but totally overshadowed by the brilliant star who was their chapter president. The mocha-skinned stunner sporting miles of smooth legs and smashing redhead with a size zero frame, respectively, were her loyal lieutenants.

Flanked between them like a prisoner, glancing nervously about at the parting crowds, was Prilla; whose vivid violet eyes, sparkling azure hair, inhumanly porcelain skin, and bombshell proportions left no doubt as to what she was…

Prilla was one of The Folk. A changeling, in fact.

While Heather would sooner burn down a church than admit some magical, tits-for-brains skank into her sorority, she wasn’t above some next-level hazing if one was dumb enough to try.

Poor Prilla hadn’t eaten for nearly a week, and sleep was only a daydream for the eager-to-please fairy. The two senior sisters escorting her were taking shifts in riding the blue-haired Fae around the clock, tasking her with a laundry list of menial chores, watching for any hints of magical mischief, and inventing creative new forms of torture like the chastity ring gleaming on her slender hand.

That had been a stroke of cruel genius. Prilla was likely the only Fae in existence to take the vow of abstinence willingly.

“Heather Martin and company,” Heather announced to the smartly-attire jock manning the door. He reeked of too much aftershave. “Kindly send someone to tell Dale I’ve arrived.”

“Delta Xi Gamma, represent.” The musclehead smirked, stepping aside and straightening his sports jacket. “Welcome, ladies. Come right in. The big man is just sorting some… uh, last-minute catering, but the VIP lounge is prepared just as you requested. Nothing but the red carpet treatment for Madison U’s finest.”

Heather wrinkled her nose, stepping past him when the looming imbecile let out a polite cough and nodded towards Prilla.

“Ah, no offense, Madam President,” He muttered in a low tone, “but this is a strictly human-only event. Beta Theta Fi has bylaws against… cavorting with that sort.”

The way his stare hungrily wandered the violet-eyed changeling’s thick curves crammed into a plain white blouse and drab tartan midi skirt—that somehow made her look even more erotic—caused Heather to question the frat boy’s adherence to those same rules.

She snapped her fingers in front of his face and let ice seep into her voice.

“The Fae is with us. Let her in or explain to Dale how you turned away Madison U’s finest, as you put it, and ruined the budding relations between our esteemed organizations.”

Blood drained from the jock’s complexion, and he yanked on his collar as though it was suddenly restricting his breathing.

“Please follow me, ladies. The VIP lounge is this way.”

“Thanks for sticking up for me,” Prilla murmured demurely, following Heather into a cordoned-off section of the common room. It was an oasis of calm in the alcohol and hormone-fueled bacchanal. “I honestly thought you were going to let them turn me away. Being a pledge is way harder than I thought.”

“Nonsense, Sweetie. You’re going to join the sisterhood… eventually. How could we live with ourselves if we let petty discrimination divide us?” Heather patted her hand with a crocodile grin. “Now, fetch me a drink and a few appetizers. The refreshments are on the table behind you.”

An antique mahogany sideboard was laid out with several small plates of aromatic finger food and a crystal punch bowl brimming with pink lemonade, Everclear, and sliced strawberries.

Everything glittered with a faint golden hue under the warm tungsten lighting.

Prilla’s famished stomach growled at the sight, and her hands tremored as she tried to decide what would please her chapter president best. Mortal food was so complex, delicious and fascinating, but Heather was very particular about what she ate and got snippy when things weren’t exactly as she desired, which seemed nearly all the time to the azure-haired Fae.

No matter how hard she tried, Heather always found something to pick apart in her Pledge duties, of which there were entirely too many.

Maybe she could taste one—just one little morsel to be sure…

“Uh-uh, naughty fairy. No snackies for fatties.” A dark-skinned hand caught Prilla’s wrist as it raised towards her mouth. Charlize shook her head in mock disappointment. “You’re still dieting, remember? We’ve got to slim you down to meet sorority standards.”

“But I’m a changeling!” Prilla whined. “And I’m so hungry. If you’d just let me use my magic, I can make myself as skinny as you like—”

“And appear to be something other than your true self?” Heather snapped from where she sat primly on a luxurious red leather chaise. “That would be a misrepresentation: nothing but trickery and deceit. You would be lying to your sisters and yourself through magical means. If you wish to join Delta Xi Gamma, you will do it in your natural form.”

The starving Fae wanted to object. To explain how, as a shapechanger, she didn’t have a natural form. Her sense of personal identity wasn’t wrapped up in the pretty face she saw in the mirror, nor in the large size of her buoyant breasts, waspish waistline, or pleasantly bouncy butt.

No matter who or what she looked like, Prilla was always herself on the inside. Well-meaning, kind to strangers, and currently hornier than a firehoof dire goat in heat.

There were lots of cute boys at this party, and the lust pouring off them as they danced and flirted with the mortal girls was making her dizzy. The Folk were especially sensitive to such… carnal emotions.

“Sorry, Madam President.” She groaned, loading the fine china plate with a random assortment of shimmering treats. “I’m trying my best. Thank you for instructing me.”

“Good girl. There’s hope for you yet.” Heather smoothed down her emerald dress, accepting the offering with a beatific smile full of sharp, pearly teeth. “And my drink?”

“Yes, Madame President. Right away, Madame President.”

The petite blonde reclined in smug satisfaction, popping a gold-sprinkled morsel between her crimson lips.

“She’s eating now. Not a lot, but definitely chowing down, and that blue-haired slut is pouring her some spiked punch.” Jay reported, peeking around the kitchen door. “Hot damn, but Fae hoes have slappin’ bods! Talk about thicc, dat ass was custom-built for twerking.”

“Focus on Heather, not the fucking fairy, Dude.” Dale frowned, searching the cluttered countertop for something as the caterwaiters came and went with platters of bite-sized food. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“The rest of what, Bruh?”

“The drugs, moron.” He snarled, sifting through mounds of chip packets and soda bottles. “You know, the golden powder we just paid a small fortune for? What’s it called again?”

“Do-Me Dust. And… ah, it’s all out there.” Jay inclined his head towards the revelry growing louder outside. The DJ was already spinning out some sick beats. “Mixed into the food and drink. Like you told me to.”

“ALL OF IT?! Dude, there were over ten baggies of the stuff! Did that Fin guy ever say how much was safe to take?”

“Not to me, but he did compare it to pot. Nobody ever OD’d on a little weed, right?”

The two frat brothers shared a troubled look before turning their gazes out the kitchen door. Bodies crowded the manor’s interior, spilling out onto the front lawn. Laughing, dancing young bodies that ate and drank freely of the gold-tinted fare generously on offer.

Jay let out a slow breath. “Party of the century, Bruh.”

Heather had Prilla sit close to her after letting Charlize and Stacy loose to mingle. It was a social event, and they would ensure everyone knew Delta Xi Gamma was in attendance, gracing this little shindig with their vaunted presence.

Reputation was the hardest form of currency. It opened many doors and had to be constantly maintained lest the value drop.

It wasn’t that she wanted the dirty Fae’s company—those supernaturally voluptuous curves disgusted the sorority starlet—but she needed to keep the stupid creature within easy distance, readily at hand for another tongue-lashing.

“Cease fidgeting, girl. It’s undignified to squirm.”

“Sorry, Madame President.” Prilla whimpered. “It’s the atmosphere in here. Can’t you feel it getting hotter?”

Heather didn’t feel anything of the sort other than a slight light-headedness from the punch and a pleasant prickling of her skin. She took another sip of the sweet cocktail while inspecting her prey with a critical glare.

“Why are you sweating so much? It’s not that warm.” The sheen of perspiration made the changeling’s perfect porcelain skin faintly glow. Then she noticed the wide violet eyes darting to male figures grinding against their female counterparts on the packed dance floor. “Wait, are you feeling… aroused right now?”

“I can’t help it. There’s so much raw passion in the air.” Prilla sobbed, head hanging in shame. “It’s like slipping into a hot bath. Submerging me in—”

“Stop that. Stop it at once!” Heather roughly seized the trembling Fae’s forearm, painted nails digging cruelly into her flesh, and jerked up the hand bearing a cheap aluminum ring. “Remember your vow of chastity, pledge. Heavens forgive me, but I’ll die before letting a fat-chested cow ruin this night for meeeeeeeee~!”

Her venomous tirade ended in a shrill scream that was drowned out by the thundering bass from a nearby speaker when a jolt of electricity leaped from Prilla, ran up Heather’s arm, and grounded itself in her center.

“Sorry! Fuck, shit. I’m so sorry, Miss President.” The azure-haired fairy babbled, fumbling the honorific in her panic. “I don’t know what that was. There’s something magically amiss at this party. I can sense that much now. It’s everywhere, but I can’t pinpoint the source.”

Heather swooned, suddenly feeling the heat as Prilla fussed over her. It was stifling and giddy. How had she missed it before? Goosebumps coated her flawless skin, and the sheathlike emerald club dress felt tighter, more confining as she fought to catch her breath.

“A drink… something cold.” She gasped, pushing the useless Fae harlot away. “I’m fine. Just need… a minute… to cool off.”

Prilla vanished, only to return with two crystal cups of pink punch seconds later. There were pastry crumbs around her plump lips, and her jaw was working furiously to masticate a stolen mouthful of food like a starving street urchin.

Heather would punish her harshly for that infraction later. Right now, she needed to quench the fire kindled in her burning core and escape public scrutiny before anyone clocked her less-than-pristine condition.

She threw back the drink, not registering Prilla doing the same with her own glass, but rather than dousing the blaze below, the sweet liquid fueled it like motor oil.

Pulse quickening, she clung to the azure-haired fairy. Something was terribly wrong.

“Help me upstairs. I can’t be seen like this.”

Jay chugged down his fourth solo cup of beer and wiped his smiling mouth on the back of his hand. The party was bussin’, everyone was vibing, and Dale’s plug had delivered the gas.

All the attendees were getting lit, even those avoiding the booze, as they all descended on the food like schools of ravenous piranha. The music was pumping, and the air felt charged with the cut-loose freedom and horny energy of youth unleashed. Some poor but incredibly enjoyable decisions lay in everybody’s near future.

The walls and hallways were already lined with couples—and even some throuples—of every conceivable combination, necking and groping desperately at each other, only breaking apart briefly to breathe and swill back drinks laced with a certain golden dust.

He smiled at his boi Tyler, swapping spit with two cheerful coeds in a corner. A stacked blonde had her hand down the front of his slacks while a petite Asian with white bows tied in her inky tresses cooed adoration into his mouth. Tyler’s hands pawed their firm asses through close-fitting clothing that looked a size too small, even on the daintier of the two.

Jay’s eyebrows rose upon spotting two of his freshman pledges practically dry-humping in the hollow under the stairs, then shrugged it off with a grin. They wouldn’t be the first fudge packers to join Beta Theta Fi, and the brotherhood prided itself on being open-minded and progressive, so long as they respected the brotherhood’s boundaries.

He’d pull them aside later to have ‘The Talk’ about acting discrete.

Damn, but he was feeling great! Amped up and ready to smash some college puss. Jay had ditched the necktie and blazer, unfastening the top couple of buttons on his shirt somewhere around the third beer to expose a swath of muscular chest.

He wasn’t the only one popping buttons either. More than a few fine ladies had narrow blouses and clingy dresses opened low in the front to facilitate fuller cleavage bulging out of an eye-catching variety of colorful bras. Those that hadn’t were tugging absently at necklines stretched taut over swollen tit-flesh between flirting and laughing with each other.

Jay realized that the female guests trended towards the top-heavy while grabbing a full cup of beer off the pong table and taking a gulp. Thick in the hips and booty too. Plenty of girls opted to wear short skirts and little dresses to these mixers, but not usually so daring they had to keep pulling and adjusting them constantly or risk flashing their panty-clad asses.

That was great, he decided, floating through the crowds on a cloud of heady buzz and growing boner. Honestly, the well-built jock preferred some cushion for the pushin’. Full and fertile with curves to latch onto as he railed them senseless.

A woman should look like a fucking woman, in his opinion, not like the skinny bihs Dale was so obsessed with.

He circled the busy dance floor where a few couples had graduated from rhythmic grinding to less-than-subtle PDA in the crush of gyrating young bodies. Logan—a junior on a basketball scholarship—had a lithe, busty redhead forced tits-first against the thumping concert-sized speaker with her pastel green minidress hiked up as he thrust madly into her dripping snatch from behind.

The ear-splitting music drowned out her rapturous wailing.

“Hell yeah. Party of the century.” Jay pumped an emphatic fist in the air, watching three excited sorority girls pull down their overly tight tops to bounce breastily to the beat in front of the DJ booth. “Party of the goddamn century.”

His cock throbbed in his pants, pushing hard against the pressed cotton fabric. Several promising prospects shot smoky glances his way, but Jay was in the mood for something more… exotic.

That blue-haired Fae skank had been thicc to the extreme. Mouthwateringly lush and ripe. A juicy forbidden fruit he ached to sample. It was risky. Beta Theta Fi would expel him from their ranks if he were caught canoodling with her kind.

But that only made the idea all the more distracting.

So distracting, in fact, that Jay passed a slim redhead and tall coffee-skinned stunner, stripped down to their size-zero underwear and scissoring each other enthusiastically on the living room couch for a chanting male audience without looking their way.

“Delta Xi Gamma! Delta Xi Gamma!”

“What’s happening to me?” Heather croaked, her voice hoarse and throat parched. “More water… I’m burning up!”

A red solo cup was pressed into her hands, and she chugged it in three long pulls. Tepid water ran from the sides of her dry lips and down her neck to soak into the decolletage of her designer club dress. The shimmering emerald fabric was a horrendously expensive silk blend that could only be dry-cleaned by high-end laundry services, and she was ruining it with water from a bathroom tap.

Heather didn’t care.

It felt like the slim-fitting number was shrinking, squishing her small chest until she could hardly breathe. She fumbled for the zipper at the back but couldn’t find it in her panic.

“Here, Miss President. Let me help.” Prilla said. Then the strangling pressure eased, and oxygen returned. “Better?”

Heather didn’t reply as the strapless sheath-like dress slid down to her waist, transfixed in horror at the reflection in the basin mirror.

They were in an ensuite bathroom in the living quarters on the second floor. It was surprisingly clean and spacious for a Frat house. Had Heather been in a calmer frame of mind, she would have guessed it belonged to one of the senior members of Beta Theta Fi. The white tiles were spotless, and the fixtures gleamed. A toilet, glass-enclosed shower, and basin took up most of the space, and fluffy towels were folded neatly over a steel, wall-mounted rack.

None of that mattered to Heather as she stared down at her breasts.

She had always been proud of the perky, dignified B-cups on her slight ballerina frame. They were a mark of her defiant humanity. Fae strumpets like Prilla paraded about with hefty udders, and plenty of mortal women had magically enhanced themselves into balloon-titted bimbos to compete for male attention. Heather wished them all an eternity of back pain and worked hard to refine her brand of beauty on the opposite end of the spectrum.

No one would even mistake her whip-thin, tight young body for anything other than human.

Not until now.

Her nubile little mounds were rising like bread dough in her small bandeau bralette. They bubbled up from the painfully pinching underwear, overflowing the undersized cups until her pretty pink nipples sprung free, feeling terribly stiff, pointy, and sensitive.

Her expression was aghast, skin a tomato shade of red, and her silver-blonde hair a frightful mess of tangles around her slim shoulders with a hint of darker color beginning to show at the roots.

“Noooo… nothing’s better. Everything is wrong!” She managed to gasp. The spiraling heat in her middle made it hard to remain calm. “What’s happening to me? Do something, you worthless sprite!”

Prilla chewed on her bottom lip, violet eyes darting about as though seeking inspiration. The exceptionally endowed moron was clearly clueless. Heather would have slapped her silly, if not for the weakness leadening her limbs. It took all her effort to clutch onto the basin and not collapse.

“Okay. Okay. We’re dealing with a rare and external source of magic. Maybe a thaumaturgical spell or alchemical potion.” The azure-haired changeling sniffed the air as she spoke. “Definitely Fae in origin, though I can’t begin to counteract the effects without more information, and they’ll kick me out of the party without you there, Miss President. What should I do?”

Heather just groaned. The churning in her guts was spreading to other, more intimate regions. A pulsating need that brought guilty moistness along with it.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to go this way. She had big plans on snaring Dale—that rich, handsome lug—into her web of influence and manipulation. Still, all she could think of was how good his lean, athletic body might feel, shoving her into a mattress and claiming her priceless virginity.

Heather’s achingly empty pussy juiced at the thought of him, drenching her frilly lace panties, and a shudder of humiliating desire raced up her spine.

“Dale… Dale can never know.” She guttered through thickening lips. They felt like plump sausages dangling from her gorgeous face. “Water… I need more water. Thirsty. Too hot…”

“Gotcha. Leave everything to me, Miss President.” Prilla snapped off a smart salute, then started yanking Heather’s glittery dress down hips that were significantly wider than earlier. “I’ll need this, but don’t worry. You can have my skirt and blouse. It looks like they’ll fit you properly soon, anyway.”

“Wait.. what?” Heather mumbled before the sound of running water drew her attention like a man dying of thirst in the desert.

The fairy bitch had turned on the basin faucet. Thank goodness! At least she had enough brain cells to follow basic instructions.

Lowering her head to drink like a horse at the trough, Heather didn’t see the shimmer of magic when Prilla inhaled profoundly and began lacing her fingers above her head in a slow, almost dancelike fashion.

Humming a lilting melody, she twisted and spun on pointed toes, bringing her palms down her voluptuous figure in a technicolored cascade of dazzling lights. The sensual movements transformed her pale flesh, shrinking in the pin-up proportions and height, the azure hue leaving her hair as she morphed into a trim, silver-haired blonde with a fine-featured face.

“You can count on me, Miss President.” She exclaimed, wriggling into the form-fitting emerald dress. “I’ll prove myself tonight!”

Heather didn’t recognize her own voice speaking from identical lips as she vainly attempted to slake her bottomless thirst.

Dale staggered through the halls of Beta Theta Fi with a sloshing brewski in hand and a raging hard-on tenting his slacks. Muffled moans, grunts, and the creaking of tortured bed frames came from closed bedroom doors. Socks, or more often, damp women’s underwear, hung from every doorknob to signal privacy for the athletically engaged participants within.

And those were just the lucky few who managed to claim a room.

More party-goers simply found a quiet corner to get busy or openly fornicated on the furniture. The music was still pumping, as was the puddle of mostly naked young flesh that had once been the dancefloor.

The dancers’ firm bodies still moved with the beat. Stroking and sucking, licking and thrusting. Dexterous fingers, moist tongues, and hard pricks keeping time with the fast tempo in a writhing carpet of carnal exhibitionism.

The DJ was like some mad maestro, working his turntables and calling the tune. At the same time, two busty caramel-skinned coeds, all but bursting out of their frippy floral sundresses, hunkered down at his feet, taking turns in gagging themselves on his impressively oversized dick.

Things had quickly devolved less than an hour after the food was served and the kegs were tapped. The usual boisterous bravado and fun flirting had escalated into something more driven. More hungry. As though someone had cranked up the thermostat in the climate-controlled manor house, leaving everyone sweating in the steamy atmosphere.

Some girls had complained that their clothing felt too tight—as though they hadn’t chosen their tiny, revealing outfits for that very reason! Many decided to ditch the restrictive attire entirely after the buttons started exploding off skimpy blouses, and short skirts shrank even shorter.

Bitches were crazy, Dale reckoned, high-fiving a burly pledge who had two naked, thick-bodies coeds bent over the second-floor banister, hammering one sopping snatch while he vigorously finger-banged the other. Their swinging, overripe knockers and ecstatic screams filled the air above the crowded atrium below.

His hand came away sticky, but that hardly mattered. Another swig of gold-tinted suds washed away any lingering concerns. His heavy cock lurched, straining against his trousers, and precum streamed down the inseam.

“Jesus, this shit was worth every penny.” He said conversationally to nobody in particular. “What was that skinny guy’s name again?”

“Make me cum, Baby. I’ve never been fucked like this before!” Howled a mega-stacked blonde in a torn cheerleading uniform getting slam-fucked against the wall less than six feet away. Her shapely, tanned legs were locked around a hulking black linebacker’s hips. “Yes! Oh god, YEEESSSS!!”

“It’ll come back to me later, I’m sure.” Dale waved his tacky hand dismissively before patting the grunting footballer player’s bunched shoulder. “Give ’er hell, Jethro.”

His bleary eyes searched through the heat haze of alcohol and lust, passing over several pretty young faces, shooting longing looks and promising gazes at the sandy-haired chapter president. He ignored them all.

Why had they invited so many fat-chested, bootylicious tramps to this high-brow mixer? Had that meathead Jay been in charge of the guest list again? Dale wasn’t interested in some dime-a-dozen bimbos. He knew he was striking—dashing even—and his tastes were far more rarified.

Anyone could score with a supernaturally curvaceous, inhumanly beautiful, and sexually voracious Fae slut. They populated every strip club and seedy street corner, begging to be fucked rough and knocked up.

No. His sights were set on a more delicate fruit—the most precious flower of Madison U’s elites. An exquisitely thin, perfectly toned, and aching gorgeous blossom of youth with silky platinum hair and a dick-hardening, haughty attitude.

Heather. That was the imperious cunt he yearned to break in tonight.

“Has anyone seen Heather?!” Dale shouted, trying to be heard over the orgiastic din and deafening music.

Then he saw the prize he sought slipping quietly out of a senior brother’s bedroom with a nervous expression and furtively darting eyes.

Heather panted with searing arousal, labored breaths misting the mirror as she bent over the porcelain basin and trimmed her butterbean under the tartan midi skirt Prilla had left behind.

“Heavens, I can’t stop… Hnnnrr~! Need to-to stop… but can’t…”

This wasn’t like her. Not at all.

The undisputed Queen of the most exclusive sorority on campus wasn’t supposed to diddle herself through climax after toe-curling climax until her fingers withered into shriveled prunes. Neither could she allow herself to be caught doing so in a random guy’s bathroom at a Frat party.

It would shatter her spotless reputation forever.

But the door was closed—hopefully locked—and Heather couldn’t help the moan that bubbled from her plumped-up lips as another crash of panty-soaked ecstasy threatened to drown her in shameful euphoria.

“Oh, Lord—Hyaaaa!”

When the fireworks cleared from her vision, Heather blinked at her reflection and let out a strangled sob of despair. The darkness in her blonde roots was actually a deep azure blue seeping into her platinum locks like a spreading ink stain.

Her perky handfuls were rapidly swelling into enormous honkers that stretched Prilla’s white schoolgirl blouse so taut, the top few buttons only held on by literal threads and pillowy tit-flesh pushed out from the yawning gaps between them.

And her nipples—oh god, her nipples were two fat and prominent peaks of heinous tingling pleasure drilling through the sheer cotton top. Each time Heather lowered her head to gulp down more water, they pancaked against the sink, sending shockwaves of cunt-clenching heat through her ballooning breasts, triggering another bone-quaking cum.

It was a real problem, given the powerful thirst driving her to drink. A thirst that intensified with each pussy-juicing climax, creating a vicious cycle of humiliating gratification.

The soft solarium bed tan of her skin drained away, leaving a shiny porcelain glow, and the eyes staring back at Heather sparkled like rich amethysts. She could feel her thickening thighs rubbing together around the nimble fingers buried in her squirting twat and the pleated skirt riding up the meaty hemispheres of a horrifyingly large butt that was once delectably small and tight.

There was no denying it any longer. Even as magma boiled in her core and ignited her nerve endings like a natural disaster. Even though the storm clouds of head-spinning endorphins and brain-blitzing bliss…

Heather was taking on the all-to-familiar features of a certain changeling she delighted in tormenting.

“Nooo… anything but that!” She rasped. Her parched tongue was a strip of coarse sandpaper. “Not her. Pleeeease…”

The splashing sounds of the running faucet dragged Heather’s mouth back down to the basin to drink once again. Slobbering and slurping down the life-giving aqua, slick fingers twisting and teasing inside her sodden depths to quell the onrush of lustful need that flooded her virgin loins.

She only registered the moment when the overtaxed blouse burst apart by the feel of blessedly cool water flowing into the deepening valley of her inflating cleavage.

“Dale! Oh my. Um… hi, Sweetie. Are you enjoying the party? Your party, I mean. Ah… it was awfully nice of you to invite me.”

Heather smiled brightly as Dale trapped her against the hallway wall, his muscular arms caging her. She didn’t scowl or turn cold like she had the last couple of times he had tried turning on the charm. That was progress, right?

“It was, wasn’t it?” He slurred, leaning in to sniff her silvery hair. She smelled like the first day of spring. The girthy hardness in his slacks brushed against her slender thigh. “I threw the whole thing just for you, dontcha know. Wanted to impress the shit outta you, Babe.”

She tittered cutely. Dale had never heard her do something as basic as giggling—Heather had the snobby laugh with a heaping helping of sneer that was bred into rich chicks, but this new sound was… nice. Warm and very girlish.

“Oh, Dale. You didn’t need really go to all this effort for little ol’ me.” Her normally schooled expression was flushed, and her upturned nose kept twitching. “Gosh, it’s loud in here… and dreadfully hot. Pardon me, Sweetie. I’m just going to step outside for a spot of fresh air.”

Sweetie?

Lacking the usual derisive bite of condescension, the word sounded like an actual endearment, and Dale stepped closer to cut off Heather’s escape attempt. Her hands rose to flutter across his broad chest, and even through the linen shirt, the contact felt incredible.

“You don’t wanna go outside. Pretty sure there’s—” He turned his head to let rip a boozy belch. It would have been rude to blow one directly in her elegant face. “Scuse me… I’m pretty sure there’s a bunch of people fucking on the front lawn.”

“Um, they’re doing it in here too,” Heather murmured, gnawing her kissable lower lip, fingers unconsciously tracing his pectoral muscles while she glanced nervously about. “Goodness, it’s all over the house. The smell and feel of it is… almost too much. Uh, can we maybe go someplace quieter?”

She was so tiny and vulnerable in that moment. The sharp, bitchy edges gone as he loomed over the petite blonde. She was fragile and delicate, like one of those dolls made from fine china his mother collected. His impossibly hard cock bucked in his pants, trying to get at her like an attack dog.

Tonight was going better than expected!

“Come with me, babe.”

Somewhere quieter? Sure. Dale was feeling downright gallant when he seized her wrist to lead them away from the debauchery. A chastity ring gleamed on one finger, and Heather let out an adorable squeak as he tugged her towards the stairs. The chapter president’s private suite—his suite—was on the top floor, safe from prying eyes and ears.

They could… get to know each other better there.

Heather was a mewling mess where she knelt, leaking all over the bathroom floor.

Everything about the queen of Delta Xi Gamma dripped.

Spilled water and sweat dripped from her borrowed clothes. The white schoolgirl blouse was torn and soaked translucent, clinging to her enormous knockers like wet tissue paper. Prilla didn’t wear a bra, so Heather’s pointy nipples stood out stark and pink under the drenched cotton fabric.

Glistening nectar dripped from her plush mound, pooling on the tiles under a wide, wobbly butt and thick thighs. Black lace panties made for a far leaner frame dug into freakishly lush hips, flossing her ass crack and parting her pussy lips like the world’s smallest g-string.

Saliva dripped from her plush dick-sucking lips in thin tendrils, adding a wet sheen to the steep slopes of her porcelain cleavage. The puckered face pillows formed a natural ‘O’ shape as she rode out the endless train of scrumptious cums.

Thoughts dripped from her mind under the overwhelming assault of rapturous pleasure. It came from all directions, a powerful external force crushing in on Heather as though a third eye attuned to raucous, deranged perversion had opened on her forehead, inundating her frail mortal brain with a lifetime supply of degenerate images and lewd emotions.

She could somehow feel the party outside. It thrummed like a nuclear reactor of youthful passion and hormonal urges. It supercharged her uber-voluptuous body, demanding to be sated, clamoring for release.

“Someone… help. Ooomph~! Help… me.”

Heather’s lengthy hair was completely blue now. It stuck to her perspiring face and bare shoulders in glossy strands of lapis lazuli. The awful thirst was still there, but she didn’t dare drink any more water. Every swallowed mouthful seemed to expand her ridiculous tits, hips, and rear like catchment reservoirs.

Strangely, it hadn’t affected her tummy, which remained flat, nor her slender limbs or trim waistline. At the last glance in the mirror, she looked like an overinflated cartoon fuckdoll.

Besides, the thirst had changed. Mere H2O wouldn’t quench the blaze in her belly anymore. She needed something else. Something long and stiff to plug one of her hungry holes and hose down the wildfire scorching Heather from within.

“There you are, bae. I’ve been searching all over for you. It’s Prilla, right?” A smug, Chaddish voice drawled from the doorway. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a tizzy. Need a hand? Or maybe some other body part? I’m a registered donor either way.”

Heather twisted around to find the blockhead Jay leering at her. His brawny arms crossed lazily over his muscular chest with a definite bulge stuffed far down one trouser leg. Her mouth and snatch drooled for that meaty pole.

“Cock… c-cock! Pleeease~!” She chirped like a goddamn parakeet. Any pride or embarrassment whipped away at the prospect of sinful salvation from her torment. “Gimme that hard fucking cock. I neeeed it!”

“You sexy fairy hoes really are just a bunch of sex-crazed sluts.” He smirked, unlooping his belt and unzipping his fly. “Come on then. Get a taste. I want you to swallow me first before I dump a few babies into that soppy Fae puss.”

Heather almost wept with relief, crawling and dragging her gravid body towards the strapping jock, violet eyes locked on his massive manhood as it sprung free from his slacks.

She’d never even seen a real penis in person before. Forget about ever touching one. The prim and proper lady she was wouldn’t know the first thing about handling a male phallus.

But that stuck-up prude was gone, and whoever she was now received lurid instruction beamed directly into her soul on every wavelength. She was built for sex. Warped and transmogrified down to the molecular level to yearn for the flavor of a man in the back of her throat. Spiritually and magically restructured to crave virile mortal seed breeding her womb with masculine potency.

And Jay—a big, strong man—had commanded her to taste him. The words made her cum-starved stomach growl as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Prilla… yes. My name is Prilla.” She moaned, lifting her head to strop soft cheeks against his exposed rigidity like a happy sex-kitten. “That’s me. I’m Prilla.”

Making that distinction felt important for some reason.

If she was Prilla, then nobody would be shocked or scandalized if they were discovered. Dumb Fae sluts did depraved, unspeakable shit like sucking a giant, yum-yum cock in bathrooms all the time.

No one’s reputation would suffer if Prilla swirled her tongue greedily around his engorged, spunk-coated tip before slipping cushiony lips down the meaty shaft to eagerly asphyxiate herself on his enormity…

“Urg, ack, ack, hurk!”

“That’s it. All the way down.” Jay grunted, palming the back of her azure-haired skull. “I know you can do it, Prilla. You’re one horned-up bitch, ain’t ya?”

She was. She really, really was!

The heavenly sensation of a girthy fuckstaff distending her neck and cutting off her oxygen with proof of that. Prilla was edging something fierce, with his heavy balls nestled in her bounteous bosom and load-bearing hips humping the floor in desperation.

The hyper-sexual imagery and reckless impulses bombarding her mushy nympho brain guided her actions. It was Prilla expertly deep-throating the well-hung brute, not that other boring ninny who sought solace in meaningless status and the misery of her perceived lessers. It was Prilla firing on all cylinders to get this handsome stranger off.

He pumped harshly, violently, into her inhumanly porn-perfect face. Fucking it like a loose cunt. Hammering her fat, suckling lips until she gurgled in delight, only a finger breadth from his base.

Prilla took it all, staring up and begging him with her wide, violet eyes for more. She was so close, and only needed to feel him erupt to cross her own erogenous rubicon. If this human stud, this total hunk, could take her there, there’d be no return.

No escaping the youthful lust and carnal wonderland that was her erotically attuned new existence. To be unshackled from propriety and societal expectations. Freed to chase her deepest desires and fulfill every repressed fantasy in a way only Prilla could.

“Glurph!”

“Here I cum, you horny Fae whore!” Jay crowed, forcefully hilting himself against her sloppy chin. “Drink it all!”

Fresh pussy nectar splattered the tiles when he crammed his choking circumference deeper, her scream of heartfelt rapture muzzled by a gratuitous geyser of jism.

A euphoric warmth suffused Prilla’s middle, a pleasant fullness that finally banked the fires of all-consuming arousal. She held herself there, tight throat working diligently to swallow every last spurt of creamy seed before sliding slowly, languorously, back with an indulgent smirk of satisfaction and licking her cum-glossed lips.

“Wow… thanks so much, mister! Did you mention dropping a hot, fertile load in Prilla’s baby chamber? That would be, like, totally amazing, right?”

Dale sipped from his gold-laced beer, sitting in an Alastair wingbacked chair with Heather’s pert butt ensconced firmly in his lap, an arm curled securely around her lissom waist, while the petite silver-blonde threw back a virgin margarita.

The lime-colored mocktail glittered, too, before it was gone.

“This is fine, isn’t it?” She asked uncertainly, wriggling until the tent in his trousers was hotdogged between the firm buns under her slinky emerald dress. “You won’t tell anyone if we get a little cozy together? That’s really important to me, Sweetie. You understand, don’t you?”

“Sure thing, babe. No problemo. Now, how about a little sugar?”

The Beta Theta Fi presidential suite was spacious and richly appointed.

Dale had planned to impress the frosty sorority queen with the high, well-lit ceilings, antique rosewood furniture, and restored leather upholstery. Expensive Persian rugs covered the polished oak floors, a Wall Street executive desk was tucked into a large study nook, and his genuine Chesterfield custom king bed dominated the apartment-sized quarters.

They had barely closed the mahogany double doors before Heather had pounced on him. Shoving Dale into the uncomfortable reading chair to paw and rub at him like a catholic schoolgirl gone wild.

Christ, he wished they had saved some of that extraordinary golden dust. The drug made his cock harder than a granite pillar, and he wanted to snort lines of the sparkly aphrodisiac off those shapely little tatas.

“Alright,” Heather tapped a dainty finger against her chin as though deliberating the request for a simple smooch with Dale’s stiff dick wedged in her ball-busting crack. “But no kissing and telling, okay?”

“A gentleman never does.” He chuffed, grinding his hips and running exploratory hands up her slender sides. “Stop being a damn tease. I know you want it, and we’re past due for some action. It’s tonight or never. You hear me?”

Alarm flashed across the waifish blonde’s expression. Indecision was instantly replaced with beet-faced determination, and she craned her neck to plant breathily parted lips on his own, rocking her tight rump like a cowgirl riding a mechanical bull.

Their tongues quested and joined. Heather tasted of honeydew. Sweet and cloying, infinitely better than Dale had dared imagine. Her kiss was more intoxicating than the beer or glimmering powder. His hands wandered over her firm perky tits, latching on and pawing greedily.

She moaned into his mouth, strings of saliva connecting them as she spun side-on to grant him easier access. The change in position withdrew Dale from her delectable rear, but Heather compensated by squeezing his prominent lump between her thin thighs instead.

The damp, cloth-covered girth slid seamlessly into her sumptuous thigh gap, riding up the short hem of her silk dress and rubbing against somewhere warm and surprisingly wet.

“This isn’t wrong, is it? For me—Heather, to yearn to feel closer to a handsome, important man like you.” She cooed, gentle and plaintive. “Please tell me there’s nothing wrong with that, Sweetie.”

The pleading tone was so unexpected and goddamn sexy, that Dale’s primed prick jerked in its restraints. Moisture seeped over his crotch, and it wasn’t all from him. Heather’s floral perfume was overwhelming, and the sparkle of gold on her ruby lips left him enthralled.

“Everything is fine, Babe. This was always going to happen.” The sandy-haired Senior mauled her small chest in reassurance. “You just didn’t know it until now.”

The tension and unease in her posture evaporated like a desert mirage leaving a sultry, smiling college sexpot grinding in his lap, leaning into his groping touch and raking her manicured fingernails down his shirt front.

“Of course it was… Mmmhmm~! Thank you for explaining that to silly lil’ me, Sweetie.” The heat and relief in Heather’s voice were palpable. She squeezed and gyrated on Dale’s bulge with renewed vigor. “I really needed to hear you say that. There was no way that some tiny slip of a girl like Heather… that’s me, could resist someone as powerful and hunky as you.”

Her elegant hands flew to his zipper and, after a few deft motions, released the meaty heft of the monster imprisoned within. Dale grunted when it leaped free, rearing to go and smacking the sorority queen’s trim tummy. Soft fingers encircled his pulsating shaft, stroking and lavishing it with worshipful attentiveness.

Something about Heather’s demeanor felt off. Too submissive and servile for the formerly frigid belle. But when the first spurt of sticky precum splattered the underside of her nubile cleavage, staining the expensive emerald number, Dale couldn’t muster enough coherent brain cells to give a shit.

She was right there.

The superstar showstopper of all his deepest, post-pubescent fantasies was writhing in his arms. Her precious pantyless cunt sliding against his root—smearing hot, glistening lines up and down his adamantine hardness.

Dale surged forward with the desire to claim her. To wreck Heather’s prissy pussy and despoil the haughty bitch forever. His feverish hands shredded the glamorous dress, unveiling her stiff, succulent nipples set atop gently tanned molehills of lickable flesh.

He lowered his mouth to bathe them in hungry kisses.

“Oh! Oh, Sweetie! I can feel your lust. I’m drowning in your desire. Use me!” She gasped, jacking him faster. Gooey globs of seed oozed over her pumping fist and covered the cheap chastity ring. “Use this tight body to slake that youthful passion and mold my virgin snatch into the shape of your ginormous mortal cock!”

In a single fluid movement, Heather rose, twisting her toned hips like a belly dancer, and sank down on Dale’s steely length with a wordless wail of ecstasy that rattled the window panes.

“Jesus, fuck! I knew you were hiding a nasty whore under that icy exterior!”

He was suddenly inside her. Snuggled in her clutching depths. The slick tightness enveloping him was like a dream. Heather’s slight gymnast figure arched wantonly, every inch of her lean and defined. Her flat abdomen rippled with every piercing penetration, protruding just a fraction when she took all of him in.

Ye-Yes… by the stars! I’m your nasty whore, Sweetie. All yours tonight… Hyaaa~!” Heather cried, ripping Dale’s shirt open to lick at his broad chest. “Your manly lust bakes my soul. The strength of your desire decimates my will… Hnnnh! Make me your nasty whore, Sweetie. Bend and break me on your irresistible masculinity!”

He grabbed her willowy hips—she was so fucking small and light in his grasp—and pounded up into her frantic downward momentum. Heather was bouncing on him like a feral fuckbunny, her gorgeous perfection contorted into a howling, bucking Fourth of July firework set to explode at any second.

“Fucking hell, Babe! You’re going to make me cum if you keep going like that.” Dale grunted, and his balls rumbled like the shifting of tectonic plates. “Is that what you want? Do you want a sticky cream pie for your first time?”

Heather’s eyelids fluttered, and for a second, Dale thought he caught a flash of violet under the long lashes. Then her vise-like walls clamped down around him as a tremendous orgasm racked the silver-haired nymphet’s delicate frame.

“YEESSSSS!! Give it to meeee~!”

It was probably the most textbook example of enthusiastic consent the Frat President had ever witnessed. With one final, heroic flex, he crammed every last millimeter into her constricting cunt and unleashed several years of pent-up desire for the unrepentant cock-tease in a climatic cum-blasting crescendo.

“Gah, yeah! Gonna stuff you full, slut!” He roared, biting her neck to leave his mark. “Gonna bang the bitchiness right out of you! Leave you walking bow-legged and leaking by morning!”

He crushed her in a possessive hug, still releasing inside her lithe, shaking body. Minutes that felt like hours of dizzying gratification later, Heather stared up at him, her enchanting face flushed and love-struck eyes glowing amethyst. A streak of bright blue highlighted her platinum locks.

“Promises, promises.” She chimed playfully, rocking her sublime hips with sinuous seduction. “You’re still rock hard inside me, Sweetie. How about taking your nasty whore for another spin and really teach her a lesson this time?”

Dale blinked.

Had her tiny titties grown a little larger?

Then Heather ran her moist pink tongue up his stubbly chin and over his mouth, leaving a glittering golden trail across his lips.

Suddenly, he didn’t care.

“Get on the goddamn bed,” Dale commanded, smacking her on the flank like a pony. “Face down, ass up. I’m going to loosen you up tonight, Babe.”

“Party. Of. The. Fucking. Century.” Jay grunted, blowing his fifth—or was it his sixth—steamy wad into the unbelievably curvy Fae’s insatiable snatch. “Shit, that fairy booty is slappin’. You’re hotter than a stolen jalapeno and gonna drain me dry.”

“More… moooore~!”

Prilla leaned naked over the toilet, pretty face pressed awkwardly into the bathroom wall, with her stupendous pale breasts balanced on the cistern. She didn’t seem to mind though, if the twerking of her superbly thicc rump on his huge unwilting boner was any indication.

The azure-haired skank was a sex machine. No matter how hard or rough Jay took her, she just squealed and begged for more…

“Moooore~!”

It almost sounded like the lowing of a cow—a lonely heifer in heat. With fat haunches and immense udders like hers, the comparison wasn’t unreasonable. Her imminently breedable, fertile figure was a red flag waving for the bull raging within the tireless jock’s spirit.

Prilla’s tattered schoolgirl clothing lay in a sodden pile on the floor behind them, and the sounds of the party-turned-orgy below had only increased in tempo and volume.

“Really, Bae?” He laughed, reaching around her lush hip to pat the sloshing paunch that had been a smooth belly. “A couple of pints worth still isn’t enough for you? Fine. Fine. I’ve got plenty more.”

“Moo-mooore~...”

Wiping his brow, Jay got back to work, trying to nail the horny Fae to the wall. A job well done was its own reward, his father always said, though the old man might have… opinions if he could see his son now.

It was a trial of stamina, hours of relentlessly rutting the magical skank. Prilla’s pussy felt amazing. Soft and welcoming, but it also coiled around his rampaging rod each time she tensed in muscle-spasming orgasm, and those were coming fast and frequently.

Any time the towering senior needed a break to knock back the dregs of his beer or shake off some fatigue, she would moan in protest and take over, mashing her shaking toosh back into him with a desperate fervor.

The glorious heft of her fecund body nearly tripped him the first time she played the power-bottom move.

The small space was a hothouse. The mirror and glass window fogged over, and the tiled floor submerged under an inch of pungent fluids. The stink of sex was thick enough to taste, and everywhere their spraying juices landed took on a golden sparkle.

“Mooore~ Prilla needs moooore!” The azure-haired bimbo keened. Perspiration beaded her flawless alabaster flesh, making it glow with an ethereal quality. “Can’t stop. Never stop. Want Moooo—”

Her blissful wail was cut short when the door slammed open, and Dale strode in. He was pantless, only wearing a stained white button-down, with a very familiar Fae tucked under a brawny arm, happily stroking his jutting fuckpole.

“Jay, there you are—ugh! What the hell is this mess all over the floor?”

“Oh hey. Sorry about that, bruh. This sexy bih’s a real gusher. I’ll get a pledge to clean it up later.” Jay slowed his pounding pace in confusion. Prilla whined, glancing over her shoulder, grinding her fat ass against him. “Wait… is that… what’s going on here?”

The violet-eyed coed affixed to the chapter president’s cock had blue hair and a naked body sculpted for sin. Sensational curves docked into Dale’s side as she lovingly coaxed a creamy eruption out of him to splash into the deepening pool around their feet.

Prilla’s stare locked on that girthy foot of solid manmeat, and drool dripped from her full, sagging lips.

“Turns out there was a bit of a mix-up. Unstable magic interactions combined with unpredictable outside influences. You don’t know the half of it, dude.” Dale griped, squelching through the muck. “I don’t completely understand it myself. But, apparently, that is actually Heather and this hot little firecracker is the changeling she’s been torturing.”

He waved his hand, indicating the two nearly identical beauties, with a careless shrug. “Personally, I prefer the one with me, but you are technically screwing my girl, bro.”

“Hey, you fucked a Fae!” Jay exclaimed, holding one finger to his nose and pointing another at Dale. “It’s double jeopardy. You can’t rat me out to the brotherhood without implicating yourself.”

“That’s not how that works, dumbass. Now, move out of the way. You can rail her bitch mouth while Prilla guides me into her sloppy snatch. I’ve got a score to settle with this uptight cunt before campus security arrives to shut this party down.”

“It’s the party of the fucking century, Bruh!”

“Is that what you want, Sweetie?” The buxom fairy at Dale’s side giggled drunkenly, lining him up with Heather’s soaking pink slit. “Gosh, these fraternity mixers are more exciting than I expected. They remind me of the solstice celebrations back home.”

“He-Heather… me? Nooo… can’t be.” The cum-addled fuckdoll groaned. “Stupid Prilla slut needs big yummy cock to make lotsa Fae babies. Want moooore~!”

“That’s enough out of you, Bae. Never liked the way you spoke down to me either.” Jay scolded, dragging her off the toilet and shoving her slobbering mouth down his throat-stuffing length. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then you can suck a dick instead.”

Heather gleefully slurped and gurgled, shuddering with soulful pleasure when Dale pushed into her from behind—delighted to be stuffed full to bursting from both ends.

“Like I said, I prefer the original Prilla. She’s a lot more fun and can magically transform into anybody.” Dale grunted, plowing the sorority queen with punishing thrusts. “It’s basically a superpower. Who wouldn’t want to bang a girl like that?”

Prilla beamed and preened at the compliment, pressing further into his side to steal a kiss. “Aaaw! Thanks, Sweetie. That’s the nicest thing a guy has ever said to me. Want me to look like your nasty whore again while you fuck her?”

Fin glanced out his crumby dorm room window as two campus security vehicles raced past, orange lightbars flashing, headed for fraternity row.

It wasn’t his fault if customers didn’t ask more questions about the product before purchasing, he considered, returning to counting out the stack of cash. He had problems of his own to worry about—like tuition fees, paying rent, and occasionally affording groceries.

A frat party getting out of hand was nothing new. Especially since everyone involved would return to normal after a day at most with a crazy college experience they would never forget.

Memories of the night they cut loose and boinked like porn stars wouldn’t fade nearly so fast as the mysterious changes to their young bodies.

Campus security would be all over it like fleas on a dog’s balls before long, and Fin was nowhere near the action. He was careful and meticulous. Never gave his full name and cleared the chat log in his messenger app immediately after leaving Beta Theta Fi with those over-privileged douchebags’ money.

There was no way to trace anything back to him, his crappy shoebox of a dorm room, or the secret which could see him expelled from Madison U and possibly arrested.

“Finley, my hero, I can feel you fretting. Come back to bed and allow me to soothe away those pesky concerns.” A soft voice murmured, gentler than the rustle of a breeze through forest leaves. “You rescued this lost damsel from a tragic end, and she would reward your valor… again.”

The scent of tropical blossoms tickled Fin’s nostrils, calming his anxiety and warming his blood simultaneously. He turned to gaze upon Aurelia, stretched out like a vision of celestial beauty on his old box mattress.

Her voluminous hair was a brilliant curtain of liquid sunshine falling in luxurious curls over a heaven-sent body wrapped in wispy midnight lingerie. Long bronzed legs led up to firm round hips, a narrow waist, and heavy, overripe breasts that begged to be caressed.

Most captivating of all were her radiant crystalline eyes, shining like tiny sapphire novas in her majestic Elysian face. It was a face that would haunt men’s dreams. Exquisitely symmetrical with high cheekbones, a regal nose, an angular jaw, and pouty rosebud lips, it created an enchanting visage that could stop air traffic.

If her supernatural perfection wasn’t enough to verify Aurelia as a Fae, then the buds and shoots blooming into a verdant flower crown above her noble brow certainly gave it away.

As did the wafts of golden pollen settling onto the rumpled bed sheets around her in a glittering dust-like layer.

It was a sure sign of arousal. Fin tried to control the surge of blood to his groin.

“Actually, we did really well today.” He tapped the silver billfold meaningfully. “This should cover expenses for the next few weeks, so we can lay low for a while.”

“I do not understand these mortal matters.” Aurelia purred, beckoning the scrawny freshman closer with graceful hand motions. “My garden wilts without your nurturing seed. If you wish to lay, then lay with me. Nourish my soil. Let this grateful maiden of the forest tend to her stalwart protector.”

The floral aroma intensified—a tropical paradise after the rain—and Fin found himself drawn into her adoring embrace. There wasn’t any reason to resist. Aurelia was blinding in her magnificence, a peerless, doting lover and wholly devoted to him.

The extra pollen they created together was just an added bonus and would go towards serving the increasing demand for the trendiest new party drug hitting Madison U…

Finley’s special Do-Me Dust.