The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hitomi knew perfectly well she’d follow him upstairs. She had just enough time to pick up one of the cardboard boxes, twirl, and dramatically start to stuff whatever was around inside of it.

“We’re leaving,” she said, as ominously as she could.

Jon was breathing hard, and looked bewildered. He wore pajama pants that didn’t fit his legs, and a shirt that didn’t fit his arms. The sight of him was a shock, two decades of being together fighting against a new sense, a very strong memory, that she was, at best, this man’s bratty daughter. Even her mouth was unsure of what word to shape: was this Jon? Or was this Daddy?

Either way her body purred at the sight of him. Undeniably he was everything she wanted in a man. Lightly but undeniably muscular, the tire around his midsection turned into a trim washboard. He had a fierce black shadow of beard growth, and smelled like sandalwood and spice. She eyed the bulge in his pants with approval: whether she was a mother of two, or a horny teen, she wanted to fuck that. Real bad.

“Hitomi,” Jon said, and his barely repressed anger was another enormous turn-on. She’d just walked in a door and he was furious with her. Fantastic. “It’s... seven thirty. I called you maybe twenty times. I was this close to calling the cops. And now here you are, and you’re dressed like a slut.”

He took another deep breath.

“What the fuck.”

“It’s cosplay, Jon, you of all people should know that,” Hitomi said. “It’s from Order Fate Grand or something. It’s a gotcha game. And as for what I was doing, I was learning that we need to get your.. our... the entire family out of this place. Now.”

She picked up a face towel and ceremoniously put it in the box. “Right now.”

He sniffed. “Do you—” Jon went and sat on the bed. For a moment the show broke down. He looked confused, discomfited.

If she was a decent wife she’d sit next to him, communicate, and they’d figure things out like adults. But she didn’t want him to smell that she’d had a few dicks in her mouth. She’d done her best in the car to clean up with some handwipes she’d found. Plus, this way was more fun. “Do you... where were you?”

“Learning things. Daddy-Jon, this town you moved us to, they’re turning us into sexy horny overdeveloped fuck sluts. You and me both. For religious reasons. We’re their DIVERSITY INITIATIVE.”

“Oh, C’mon, Hitomi,” Jon snorted. It was very hot. “I finally get a good job with a boss I like and you announce its just a conspiracy to get some fuckable asian fuckdolls. Prove it.”

“Pull your pants down,” Hitomi said. She wished she had more lipstick on. This was really fun. “That’s the proof.”

“I don’t—Hitomi... you smell like... is it cinnamon?”

“FINE, Jon,” Hitomi said. She knelt in front of him and shucked them down. He was still unfolding to full hardness, which was a disappointment—men should always be fully erect and aching to fuck her. She had her complete tits on display, and her ass to boot. The outfit was all diaphanous silk and thigh-cuts. True, she was laying down shocking truths. A few deft strokes got him to full hard. She blew hot air on it, one of her favorite new tricks.

“Jon... you think this is your normal dick? This big boy? This is a MONSTER cock, Jon. This big horse dick is yours?”

It was oh so big, and poured goop onto her waiting fingers. Hitomi used them strategically, smearing cum across her face and the top of her tits. No reason to let her Daddy-husband know she was fucking other guys. And besides, it did smell really good.

“How big do you think you are now? A full twelve inches? And soooo wide, look at the diameter on this monster. You’ve even got more pubes, Jon. You grew more pubic hair. You’ve got a full bitchsplitter on you. You must be very proud.”

“I...” he was adorable, mouth open, as she jacked on it. Hitomi risked licking the very tip, staring right into his eyes. The taste knocked her back on her ass, making it hard to concentrate, but she powered through. “I—no, that’s... then how come...”

“Oh, they go to me too! And our... your... the girls? The other girls? Yumi and whatshername? Look at these TITS, Jon!” HItomi lifted them out, offering them up. Jon put his hands on them. They felt superb in his grip. “And my butt is bigger... my hair! I had a... a... haircut traditionally associated with... mothers. Now it’s.. how long is it?”

“Butt,” Jon said. She sat briefly on his lap, letting his dick bob against her back. Just a taste, so her hair would get sticky with jizz. “It’s... butt length.”

“So there you go,” Hitomi cooed. “Your new job is making us into some sort of super stupid breed sluts. I know the health insurance is good but Jon-Dad... time to go. Lets leave. Get one or both of the girls and go. Okay? Hmm?”

She backed away. Her body glowed. Jon sat, dick pulsing, eyes on the ground.

“I got you a present,” he said.

“A—what?” Hitomi said, confused.

“On the bedstand. Open it up.”

It was a direct order.

Hitomi learned, for the first time, that she was in no position to deny those. In fact they bypassed everything, even the camera-flash programming, and went directly to a place very deep inside of her, prepared by chemicals and hormones and repeated conditioning, that brooked absolutely no refusal.

Her pussy creamed. Daddy was giving her commands. She opened the little box.

Inside was a black leather collar.

“Put it on,” Jon said. He hadn’t moved.

She sniffed, to get a sense of his mood. It was dark, very dark. She tried to resist: a collar? She was a free and easy teen. This was way too much. “Dadd—Jon, we really do need to pack up and—”

“Put the collar around your neck and snap it closed,” Jon ordered. Her hands did it before she could respond. It clicked into place.

“Now get on my lap,” Jon said. “Ass up.”

“Daddy—you don’t want—are you going to spank me?” Hitomi swallowed. Her voice was very small. “I was finding out stuff about secret mind control conspiracies. I was telling you. I was good. I was really good. I did it for—for us.”

“Lap.” Hitomi stretched across it.. Jon’s cock awkwardly made room for her. He slid down her briefs, and rubbed his hand across her butt. Her new collar rubbed against her neck..

One last effort. “Jon this is—programming. Some sort of super hot super sexy daddy dom stuff. You can—you can fight it. I’m your daughter. Wife. I don’t know.”

The first slap landed. “I called you seventeen times.” Waves of pleasure and pain crashed through Hitomi. The second one followed the first, on a separate cheek. “You had me really worried.” He had a way of rubbing her slit right after the slap, gathering the spray of lubricant, and then using it to grease the next slap. It was very professional.

The third slap reached deep inside of her and made her cum so hard she convulsed.

“And you never picked up my anime boxes like I asked you to.”

They rested there, exhausted, for some time. Hitomi was conscious of her juices leaking against his thigh. She had to—do something. Get out of there, before she came again. But Daddy was right, wasn’t he? She had been bad, and bad girls got corrected.

She was lucky it wasn’t a paddle.

Hitomi wondered if they had a paddle he could use.

“There’s a key for the collar in the box,” Jon told her. “Go get it.”

“Daddddyyyy,” Hitomi whined. Mostly because she didn’t want to get up. But she was in no position to disobey anything. The key was at the bottom of the box, a very small silver-colored key.

“Flush it down the toilet,” Daddy told her.

“Wait,” Hitomi stared at him. But this was—just like she’d said. This was a new Jon.

She wasn’t married to this man. At least it cleared up that misconception. He was new. This Jon could hardly be argued with, unless she wanted a few penalty smacks on her ample bottom. And she definitely did. “Jon, seriously, this isn’t you, this isn’t me..”

“I’m getting a sense of that. Flush the key.”

She walked into the bathroom, very conscious of the pussy juice streaming down her thighs. He couldn’t see her—she could just palm it and—but no. Daddy wasn’t in the mood. Hitomi tossed it in the toilet. Down it went. The collar was taut against her throat.

The doorbell rang.

They froze. Neither wanted this—they were barely halfway through figuring out what their new relationship was going to look like. Hitomi was still fully clothed. But then they heard Nami open the door.

“Daddy! It’s some sexy hottie! She wants to talk to you!”

“A hottie, huh?” HItomi said. This was, secretly, a relief. She felt a surprising amount of guilt about fucking around out on the town. Part of her had wanted to find a girl in Jon’s bed. That’d be a useful bargaining chip.

“What’s the name?” Jon called down. He struggled into a pair of dress pants, giving Hitomi a look. She fingered her collar, and swung her legs open, so he could enjoy the view.

“Nami!”

“What’s... the name.... of the guest...” Jon said, rubbing his temples. He poured himself into a wifebeater. Dress slacks and undershirt was an unbeatable combination on him, and Hitomi felt her pussy start to juice again.

“Are there a LOT of hotties who it could be?” she asked.

“She’s says it’s Joy! I’m gonna get her a glass of milk!”

“Do—I mean. Fine. Whatever.” Jon said. He shook his head. “It’s a coworker. Honey.”

“You’re fucking your coworkers?” Hitomi said. “Jon, I take it back. That’s impressive. You’ve only been at work for what, a week or two?”

“Two days. And we are not having sex. Stay up here. We still have a lot to talk about. Starting with, your daughter has decided to go through puberty again, without our permission.”

She was drinking a very tall glass of Nami when he came down. It was yellow-white in the glass, and Joy really seemed to appreciate it. She even tipped it back, and put her tongue in to make sure she got every last drop. Nami stood by, still in her apron. If she turned around, Jon’s coworker could see her bare ass.

“Nami!” Jon said. “I—” he swallowed. Right, he’d just cum in his daughter’s mouth. Somehow he’d nearly forgotten. From her expression, and the streak in her hair she’d missed, Nami had not. “Uh. Why don’t you.. go upstairs.. Sweetie. Thanks.”

“This is SO good,” Joy said. “Is there nutmeg in it?”

“Sort of!” Nami said.

HIs coworker had half-sat herself on the couch. She wore a gold dress—real gold, shimmering gold. It went down no farther then mid-thigh, and couldn’t at all compress the heft of her body. Her hair had puffed out into an impressive cloud. A drop of milk landed on her tits. It had plenty of room to roll around in. She’d tried to tamp her body’s overall effect down with a short jacket. It hadn’t worked.

“I—” Joy took a breath. “Jon. I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I know that... girls should always let men do the thinking, and I didn’t know anyone else...”

“Joy, what is it?” Jon said. He took another step towards her, and enjoyed watching her slump down to the arm of the sofa.

“I need you to come with me!” Joy said. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “Darn it. It’s so—hold on.” She picked up the management for girls book, which she’d brought in with her, and left on the couch. “I know I shouldn’t.. this book is like, it just sucks and takes but... there. It says men solve problems, and girls soothe problems.” Joy held the book close to herself, until she could calm herself down. The pink helped relax her, dulled her frantic eyes.

“So yeah. Jon I know this will sound weird coming from a silly girl but I’m actually a reporter?”

“A reporter,” Jon said, flatly.

“Yeah! I know!” Joy said, wild. “With tits like these! I’m super-surprised too! And Joyce isn’t my sister she’s—anyway, I found some super shocking stuff and it’s so hard on—oh! Is this your other daughter? It’s very nice to meet you!”

Hitomi had descended the stairs. She’d changed clothes—out of the cosplay, and into a short white skirt with matching short white tanktop. She’d put her long hair into two pigtails.. She fingered the new collar.

“No,” Jon said.

“Yeah,” Hitomi said. “I’m Hitomi. Jon, you can bring her upstairs if you want. It’s fine by me.”

Jon turned to Joy, who had one hand in her hair, curling and curling it. She’d added brown highlights to her lipstick. Hitomi looked nervous. She’d found a pair of plain black heels, and had made makeshift mary janes with thick white socks.

“I expect all girls to be quiet while I think,” Jon said.

There was just so—much. And it had to be filtered through a sediment of aggression, especially these problems that required all this talking and thinking. With just one girl around it was mostly a matter of getting their thighs open, and then it was easy. This was—complicated. His head ached. Both girls were completely silent, eyeing each other.

“Hitomi first,” he decided. “Joy, you wait here quietly, am I clear? Then we will deal with your problem.”

Hitomi backed away as he approached, and he guided her back up the stairs, hand on her butt. He dimly recalled—this was what he had liked her for, wasn’t it? Way back when? Now, big fat butts were all the rage, but—this one had been special, hadn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

His head kept aching. He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut. This had to be it, the big challenge of maledom, productive use of muscles and energy.

“You said you’re my daughter,” Jon said. “Pretty sure we’re married?” He was starting to doubt himself. This wasn’t a Mom of two. This was another nymph to bang. It’d be a relief if she was just another daughter. He still felt bad about cumming in Nami’s mouth.

“I mean—” Hitomi faltered. She caught sight of herself in the mirror—the pigtails, the shoes, the skirt. “I mean... Jon, I.. I don’t know either. I think... can we just leave, Daddy? Maybe figure this all out in a hotel, upstate? I’m—am I eighteen or am I thirty-seven?”

Jon opened his mouth to answer, stopped himself. “Ring,” he said, relieved. “Ring. Look, you’re wearing our wedding ring. And we’re not leaving. I have a job to do.”

“And I can, what, hang around and find some laundry to do? Wait for you to come home?” She tugged on her ring, suddenly furious again. It was all so exasperating. He needed to pin her to a wall and fuck the contrariness out of her, but he had work to do...

“I waited all fucking NIGHT for you to come home, Hitomi,” Jon said. “The house was a MESS. No breakfast on the table. Daughter missing. One of them. The other one is DUMB as SHIT...”

“Why won’t you LISTEN to me? Mind control sexy conspiracy? Are you just too dumb and hot now, is that it? Are your brains in your balls now?” Hitomi had her back to the wall. Above her head the TV kept playing, some sort of morning show. Two big-boobed beauties ceremoniously dumped out their coffee, right on to the news desk. Hitomi couldn’t get her ring off. Her fingers had gotten thicker, just like the rest of her.

“Stay here. Sit in the house. Clean this—” Hitomi had her hands over her ears. “While you go FUCK your COWORKERS...”

“Hitomi, I want you—”

“No!” she said. “Ee—enough orders, Daddy!” She stepped forwards, roughly yanked down his nice dress pants. His cock was a furious red, just like the rest of him. He stopped short.

There was too much again—Hitomi was as angry as she’d ever been, but was also rubbing on his cock. Her tits jiggled in the white top. “I hate how good you smell!” she hissed, right by his ear. She was wearing pigtails. “I’m not gonna sit here and finger myself while you have all the fun! Not again! Not this life! I’m gonna go fuck big dicks all day long, I’m gonna go suck cock in Paris!”

He came again. This was a big load, boiling over. It jerked and fired at Hitomi, slopping all over her shirt, her skirt, even finding a way to hit her right in the face. Gobs of jizz slid off her cheeks. She collected a warm puddle, and rubbed the goo gently over her left ring finger. The wedding ring slid off easily.

“Have fun with JOY,” Hitomi said, slipping the ring into his pants pocket. Then she spun, displaying her ample, perfect ass, and stormed into the bathroom.

The door clicked locked.

“Everything, uh, okay?” Joy said, when he returned downstairs.

“I got divorced or was never married or whatever,” Jon told her. “Lets just get to fucking work.”

The pharmacy opened at eight, and they were there by seven. Yumi and Liza killed time by walking, aisle by long aisle, through the town supermarket. MILKNMORE. Like everything Stork it was built on a gargantuan scale and covered the entirety of a block. They’d been walking up and down for the better part of the hour without covering nearly all of it.

“Next time we see the stock guy, flash him,” Liza said.

“Ass or titties?” Yumi said.

“Ooh, an ass flash. Oh wow, I didn’t even think of an ass flash. Yeah, okay, that. Although all you need to do is, what, tense your butt muscles?”

Yumi was wearing a very daring skirt. It was more of a party decoration that had elastic on it. But even though they’d gotten up early and tried on a lot of outfits, her butt simply could not be contained in mere fabric. It had ripples. Even now she had some trepidation about it: why was there a slut wagon behind her? Why did she have slabs of buttock instead of her petite, girlish frame?

But Liza was in love with it—and possibly her, she dared to dream—and so were the many stock boys hard at work. Every single one had rolled up sleeves and greeted the two of them with a tender, respectful “ma’am.” And then stared so hard at two swaying butts Yumi was surprised they hadn’t bored a hole.

She was in charge of guiding the cart. The shopping cart was essentially a prop for showing off her rear to the men, and to let Liza poke and prod at it. If it wasn’t for Liza’s anxiety it would’ve been a wholly fun way to spend an hour. Her girlfriend smelled very, very nervous.

“We made it,” Yumi said. The stock boy with the black mustache gave her a warm smile, and waited, patiently, for her ass to clear the turn. Liza’s hand was deep up her skirt. “Milk. The dairy aisle. Aisles.”

It was outfitted in chrome and heavy glass. The stockers had gone first. An aisle of cartons stretched way out into the far distance, cardboard soldiers in their serried rows. Yumi sniffed. There was a lot in the air, even perfectly chilled by the very best in refrigeration technology. Milk, but hardly the pasteurized uniformity she was used to. This milk had personality. It smelled... familiar.

“Check this out,” Liza said, pulling a random carton. “Have you seen this girl. If so, congrats. And it’s a girl with her tits half out. Isn’t your Dad in marketing? You should rub this in his face, this is MARKETING.”

“They have three percent milk,” Yumi said. “They have FIVE percent milk. And extra-fat! They made fat milk and put even more fat into it. We should get this. I mean... afterwards.”

Liza’s fingers tapped a nervous beat on the new skin of Yumi’s rear. It would’ve been fun if not for the nerves behind it. Actually, it was still fun—any sensation sent warm ripples through her, inevitably ending up in her slit. Yumi had the distinct feeling that rubbing her butthole would be a lot more fun than it used to be. She was saving it as a reward for Liza getting her meds.

“Is it weird that this is labeled the... cow milk section?” Liza said. One very small area, nearly lost in the overall display. It housed a few small half-gallons. “What’re... what’re the others?”

Yumi felt her tits swell and tense. They hadn’t dripped milk since last night, and she was half-sure she’d dreamt all that. Dreamt everything, really. There was no way she was housed in a big slut butt body, taking assy strides with a new girlfriend, flirting with the men. She was bound for college soon. The next time, the very next time that Liza nervously pinched her butt, she’d certainly wake up...

“They should be open by now,” Yumi said, trying to keep her voice level. She’d caught the nerves too. “Lets go check with the pharmacy.”

It still wasn’t open. It was an odd looking pharmacy: usually they were surrounded by aisles of over the counter supplements, pills, and creams. The Stork version had none of that, excepting one small display of creams for general muscle soreness.

“Where’s the birth control section?” Liza said. “Do they not—oh. Okay, here it is.” She held up a bottle of lubricant. “This is it.”

“That’s it?” Yumi said. Behind translucent glass there were definitely men in white lab coats messing about. Actually, if she peered, it looked like there was a girl in there. Up on a table, next to one of the men.

“I guess control doesn’t need to mean, less.” Liza’s lip quivered. She wore a black crop top and a loose pair of harem pants. Her hair was far more wavy then Yumi’s, with chestnut highlights in the general darkness. It was ultra-glossy. They’d each slept about two hours. She’d changed—her face had gone fully cherubic, with permanently pink, flushed cheeks. Perma-cute, like she’d been caught masturbating.

“No reason to be nervous,” Yumi said.

“PLENTY of reason to be nervous,” Liza said. “Everyone in this town is fucked up on gender! Square jaws! Big boobs! There’s no venn diagram people allowed!”

“Lie down,” Yumi said. It had occurred to her, while shoving her pussy in Liza’s mouth for hour number two: she was the dominant one in whatever this relationship was. The word—dominant—echoed inside the nice new expanses of her head, and felt nice. Telling Liza where to lick felt nice. The licks themselves felt nice.

But it was also twinned with responsibility, a word that was really long and difficult, but which she was forcing herself to hold on to.

There was a full couch next to the pharmacist, with frilly pillows. Liza sat down and pulled her legs up underneath her. Yumi lifted her own shirt up.

“Nuzzle,” she instructed.

“I’m not just gonna.... suck your... Yumi, we’re in a store. A supermarket. Who do you think I am?”

Yumi put her hand out, and caught the drool just as it came out of Liza’s mouth. With her other hand she teased up the front of her shirt, until her nipples were sticking all the way out. “Nuzzle nuzzle,” she instructed. “It will calm you. And me, for that matter.”

“God damn it, Yumi,” Liza dove in. Her lips settled on right boob..

Yumi kicked her legs out so her toes could flex. She carefully settled her too-tight shirt over Liza’s head, so she could have a little privacy while she sucked, and also scooted her overly-full butt lower in the chair. The tension in Liza’s shoulders eased.. Her boobs felt nice on Yumi’s skin. They were perfectly adequate cantaloupe-sized titties.

The future lazed into sight. Not for the first time—Yumi had felt the first tremors of it in her room, watching Liza’s growing, growing body explore her belongings.. Reviewing her posters and stroking her body. But now it was—more. Thorough.

Possibly due to sleep deprivation, sending her into waking dreams... or... was it... something else?

The two of them were recumbent on furs, naked, Liza rubbing some sort of cream into her swollen belly.

They were both, impossibly, wonderfully, knocked up, but Yumi was the one to turn into a breeding queen. She looked stuffed. Most of the town had gotten a shot at the two of them, and it was going to be a treat to see what slid out. Their Rainbow family...

No, she was in a cold, clinical warehouse, with industrial lighting too high up to see, and strapped in with restraints so she didn’t slip in a puddle of milk. There was an ornate contraption on her boobs, and it sucked her nipples, all day long. Something else buzzed between her legs—this was just the calming vibe. A more vigorous dildo fucked her on the hour, or any passerby, if they so chose. She found the energy to turn to her left—there was Liza, with jugs just as big, moaning and shaking. The capstone to her long recording career, bottling her musical milk. They usually held hands all day...

No, she was on tour, with the other Rainbows. As usual the crowd gasped when she strode out, her body iconic and visible from space. Every girl in the room made plans to eat more dinner. Their boyfriends tightened their grips on the girls’ butts, new fantasies wriggling into their heads. They’d been primed for hours with the opening acts, the videos, the scent in a very enclosed room, the bottles of milk given out freely. As usual their microphones were side by side.

Sometimes they skipped the first song entirely, and just made out, the crowd going absolutely bonkers...

“Miss? Miss..es?” Yumi blinked. How long had—had she fuzzed out? The only clue was that the tension in her boobs had decreased. Liza had swapped tits at some point, although she still was apparently starving, from how hard she went.

Another well-muscled man was looking at her, this one wearing a white labcoat. He waited, very patiently, while Yumi picked out the lettering on the breast pocket.

“Bob,” he said, after she’d lost her train of thought a few times. “It’s Bob. You two need something?”

“Her,” Yumi said, putting her brain in gear, or at least in first gear. “She does. She needs—uhh—girl meds. Estrogen.”

“Sorry?” Bob scratched his head. “Ma’am, we usually hand out stuff for rug burns. And lots and lots of lanolin. Are you sure...?”

Liza let go of Yumi’s nipple with a wet, resounding pop. She pulled her head out, set her shoulders, and stood up.

From her purse she pulled out a driver’s license with a different name and face on it, and slapped it down, hard, in front of Bob.

“To be clear,” she said, chin still dribbling with Yumi milk. “It’s LIZA. I am over eighteen. Actually I’m over nineteen. I need spironolactone, whatever estradiols you have back there, and some agonists. Patch or pill or whatever. I want all the girl meds you got, and I don’t. Want. To. Talk. To. A. Pharmacist. About it.”

Bob looked at the driver’s license. Then at Liza, then at Liza’s boobs, then further down, then back at the driver’s license. His mouth opened, then closed. “One- ah- second.”

“One second, MISS,” Liza said.

“Right, right.” Bob disappeared. Yumi gave Liza two thumbs up. She looked super-cute, cheeks smeared with milk.

Bob reappeared with another man, older, with a few silver lines in his hair.

“Miss,” the man said.

“Good, correct,” Liza said, nodding.

“Uh-huh. Yes. Miss. I am to understand that you... WANT all the girly drugs we have?”

“ALL of them,” Liza said, nodding.

The two men exchanged looks.

“And you’d have no objections to an injection?” Bob said.

“Absolutely none. Right into my veins. L-F-G,” Liza emphasized.

This time the men exchanged excited looks.

“We can use the new formula,” Bob said, in front of them. “The Number Twenty-Four. In an unmediated solution! Peter, no additives, no dietary bullshit, just number twenty-four in a subdermal—I’ll get the needle!”

“Ma’am—I just want to be clear—” Peter said, gently, but he was wringing his hands. “You did say ALL of it, right? All the girl juice we got?”

“Uh—” Liza seemed flummoxed. She rallied. “Yes. Hell yes. Lets, uh, do it.” Yumi kept her thumbs up, for moral support, although this was clearly not the response Liza had expected.

“Ho-ly shit,” Peter mouthed. “You wait and you dream and—alright. We’re doing this. Bob, hurry the FUCK UP, Bob!”

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it right here!” Bob nearly flew out a side door. In his hand he held a syringe filled to the brim with a bright, nearly glowing pink fluid. Or was it actually glowing? Yumi wasn’t sure. Bob’s hands were shaking. “Take your shirt off and—pick an arm. Lets go! Lets fucking go! Number Twenty-Four! We’re doing this!”

“Y-yeah!” Liza said. They both beheld the syringe. It was undeniably female. “This is—this is the stuff? The—the girl juice? There’s no label or...”

“Oh, you better believe it,” Peter said. He had his phone out, and was filming. Liza slowly took her shirt off. “Lots of late nights on this one. This is the absolute, purest shit. Thank you SO MUCH for stopping by. This is Serum Twenty-Four, we drank so much coffee, we worked SO hard—Shoot, I—Bob, let me get you in frame. Twenty-three just made the test subjects cum out of their mouths.”

“And this will—“ Yumi and Liza shot glances at each other. “This will... what? Is this gonna make me more... womanly? That came out wrong. You know what I want.”

“You want the girl juice,” Bob said.

“Yes. And no—no fooling,” Liza said.

“It’s pink,” Yumi said, helpfully.

“It... it sure is,” Liza looked at Peter.

“Miss Liza,” Peter said, sincerely. “This is gonna make you the hottest, most fuckable womanly woman that ever femaled. One hundred and ten percent pure-strain lady.”

Liza took a deep breath. She paused, and waited for Yumi’s nod. “Then jam that fucker in me,” she said. Bob didn’t hesitate another moment. The needle disappeared deep inside of her arm.

“Did I really just do that?” Liza said, not long afterwards.

The men had put a pink bandaid on her shoulder, after plunging a big needle full of fuschia goo into her. They’d each thanked her, and taken pictures. Peter looked a little tearful, sniffling into the arm of his lab coat. And then they’d headed back behind the counter, where they were clearly banging the hell out of some girl. Her shrieks were very audible. Even by Stork standards they were railing her hard—from where they sat the couple could see bits of fluid flying around, and the occasional male bestial roar.

Finally Yumi got up—not super easy with a dump truck butt—and closed the pharmacy door.

“That’s not what you normally get, huh?” she said, uneasy. Liza sat, stock still, on the floral-themed couch. “This is all kinda new to me. I tried to be supportive?”

“Uh, that’s a big no on what’s normal,,” Liza said. Her eyes were wide. She sat with her hands in her lap, waiting. “I get some pills. Not a... not a big ’ol syringe of.. did they call it girl juice? They didn’t even give me a receipt. Holy shit, are they gonna charge me for this? Like, money?”

A girl bellowed, deep in a mating rut..

“Probably not,” Yumi hazarded.

“I should call my brother and... well, whatever,” Liza said. She sidled her hand over, and Yumi took it.

“Feel anything?”

“Yeah... good question. Do you ever feel like a fraud as a girl?”

Yumi scratched her hair with her free hand. “Not really?”

“I guess no then. Was it glowing? The stuff? Why did I do it?”

Yumi blinked. Wasn’t it obvious. “A man said so,” she said, deliberately.

“Well, I mean, of course,” Liza said. She bit her lower lip. “I mean, if a man says to do it its not like you can, you know, disobey.”

“Right,” Yumi said. She blinked. No, was that right? But hadn’t she brought it up? “Girls smile and nod, men point and shoot.”

“Smile and nod,” Liza echoed. “Right. Girls giggle and wiggle and stroke and suck. Duh. Alright. That makes me feel better. Or... what? What did I just say?”

“Girls suck and fuck, girls...” Yumi trailed off. There was a scent in the air. Something... different. “Ummm. Liza, I’ve been having some kinda weird future-maybe-dreams I wanted to... mention. Just some... strange stuff about, you know, breeding a little.”

Liza sat up straight and let go of her hand, and rubbed at her eyes. Her voice, which, if she was distracted, was a little husky, had gone up a full octave. “Yumi, what’re we... I just got that shot because a man wanted me to. I did that. Because... men are strong and girls are wrong, and boys are fun to listen to.”

“Oh shit,” Yumi whispered. She had a brief moment of clarity, from the uncertainty and nerves. What the hell were they doing? She’d sucked cock, and grown a heifer ass in a day, and let her girlfriend get injected with super slut serum or something. “Liza, we should... go or something?”

“Yumi?” Liza said. Her pitch kept going up. She sounded like a complete airhead.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I think it might be kicking in. I... I kinda... kinda feel like a dumb bimbo-brained girly fuck-slut?” Liza shivered. “Is that normal, for you?”

“Liza, are you...?”

The shivering picked up. Yumi wasn’t even touching her. Liza was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. Her boobs quivered and shook, and her hips bucked back and forth. “It feels good...” she said, teeth gritted. “It feels... oh god... Yumi... it feels...” She was full-body shaking now. “Yumi. Oh god. Yumi...”

“Liza!” Yumi stood up, alarmed. “What is it?”

“It feels like a... really good girl cum,” Liza said, and moaned.

High-pitched and flighty, matching the bimbo getting her brains fucked out, one room over.

And then she passed out entirely.

“Liza,” Jerry growled, across the phone line. In spite of the fact that her girlfriend was curled up in a ball, unconscious, her forehead oven hot, a male growl sent a nice little tingle through Yumi. Her knees, already having a tough time with her new butt, felt even weaker. “I’ve called and called. What kind of trouble are—”

“It’s Yumi,” Yumi cut in. “Liza got some sort of... I don’t know... woman injection and she’s passed out and everyone at the pharmacy has their dick in something and she said...”

“Whoa,” Jerry said. “Calm down. Slow down. Alright. Start over.”

Yumi felt an instant surge of relaxing bliss. She was becoming aware that being bi, in this town, was going to make it difficult to get through regular conversations without creaming herself. Was there anyone she wasn’t willing to bang?

“Alright.. so... the bastards got to Liza,” Jerry said, catching up. “I figured they’d leave her... well. Alright. Where are you?”

“The supermarket! Where the pharmacy is!” Yumi reported. She touched at Liza’s sizzling forehead. Just as concerning, her girlfriend appeared to be leaking. She was wrapped up tight, and Yumi had put her shirt over her, out of concern. But there was way too much fluid dripping down off the couch.

Pink fluid, it seemed to be.

“Really? Hannah and I are in Aisle 17. We’ll be right there.”

Hannah was the first one to show.

She was a half-foot taller than Jerry, and wore a lycra tube top with a matching pair of volleyball shorts. Her hair was a stark blonde, and all of her seemed to be bulked and muscular, excepting the usual pair of Stork-style boobs. They defied her steel-cord body, just as wobbly as everyone else’s, even pulled down in the top.

Jerry was—Yumi swallowed—a lot. She tingled for him even before his scent reached her—so much like Liza’s that she was dizzy, her brain parsing out who to lust after. Inevitably it decided: everyone. The remaining boyishness had been chopped and sieved, and he was all shoulders and chest and energy.

He was pushing a shopping cart filled up to the top with items, and then topped up again. There was a layer of milk products, snack cakes in a strata, and what looked like an entire butcher’s spread of different meats. House brand canned goods, various crunchies, and even a big pallet of water underneath. All of it not quite adequately sealed, so everyone could get a good whiff in.

Hannah had a full set of sausages around her neck, and was gnawing on one.

“Damn it,” Jerry said, seeing his sister. Yumi tried to cross her legs. She had to find a way to remind herself: she was only going to fuck the one running a high fever. But there was too much shared DNA. “They INJECTED her?”

“Pink goo,” Yumi said. She resorted to pinching her nose. It helped. Jerry was surrounded by a thick fog of sandalwood and smoked tea. And hadn’t Nami fallen head over heels for this man?

Liza. She had to concentrate all remaining brain cells on Liza.

“Ugh,” Jerry fixed eyes on her. “This whole town is some sort of semi-religious breeding pit. We’re barely ahead of it, everyone in town with the will to resist is escaping this morning. Our contact on the inside gave us a trail that leads out.”

“Breeding pit?” Yumi said. She touched at Liza’s stomach. Another fantasy knocked on the door. The two of them, in the hot tub, giggling as they let their protruding bellies surface above the water. Not too hot, of course. The band’s running joke was that Yumi was going to be in labor for about a minute, given the reconfigured and fully-featured chute that was her new butt. But no reason to count out Liza...

She blinked. “I think maybe that makes sense?” she ventured.

“Well, yeah, look at you. You’re Nami’s sister?” Was there a hint of wistfulness? And why ask that of a TWIN? “Is she—is she alright?”

“No, some jerk broke her heart,” Yumi said. Hannah snorted. Jerry had the grace to flush, at least.

“I don’t—I don’t,” Jerry squeezed his eyes shut. “Ugh. Look, they’ve.. they’ve gotten to all of us. Maybe I.. but every decision is just so... so HARD... Hannah?”

“On it!” Hannah barked.

She put the sausages down, and washed it away with an open container of something labeled “GIRL NOG”, with a spray of evergreen on it. Jerry wore an oversized belt on darkwash jeans, and a western shirt. Hannah pulled it apart, fell expertly onto her knees, and pulled out his cock. She started to suck immediately—Yumi only caught a glimpse of it, and then it was all the way down her throat.

“We—we have to,” Jerry said, breathing hard. “It—it’s the only thing—god, my sister is right here. This damn town.” That didn’t stop him from grabbing Hannah’s head and using it roughly. The girl didn’t seem to mind, shifting her stance so her mouth was more perfectly aligned.

That’d be them, once they were on tour, Yumi thought. So many men to see. Every dick changed by the experience, once it was inside her perfectly prepared mouth. She could carry a tune and suck a mean cock. They emerged longer, thicker, heavier, a little gift from the Rainbows to their male fans. Between the two of them, she and Liza could leave an entire auditorium with nice new penises...

“Mmgh,” Hannah said, the only reaction she made to Jerry cumming in her mouth. He popped free, panting, and put his dick back in with shaking hands. The insecurity was gone as soon as he zipped up: he was all man, all action. “Okay. Sorry you had to see that. Liza can come with us, I’ll carry her. We’re getting out. Escaping.”

“Liza’s DRIPPING GOO,” Yumi said. She reached underneath her partner, pulled a sticky hand out. It looked faintly pink in the overhead light. “We need to get her to a bed!” It was hard to contradict a man, so hard. But this was Liza. “She’s burning up!”

“It’s not safe in this town, and we are on a time table. We have two dozen escapees ready to go, and we have Yum-Yum Snax and Happy Water for all of them. And we found a package of condoms.” Hannah, unperturbed by having to quickly swallow a mouthful of semen, held it up proudly. It was labeled “NOVELTY CONDOMS: FOR DECORATIVE USE ONLY.”

“Fine,” Yumi said.

She stood up, put her arms underneath Liza, and tried to pull her up. She’d been pretty strong in High School, priding herself on her pull-ups. But she was all tits and ass now. “I’ll lay her across my ass. Plenty of room. Have fun escaping.”

“You and your sister are the most—” Jerry shook his head. He sniffed: Yumi could only wonder what it was.

“She’s at our house,” Yumi said, quietly. “Her tits got even bigger.”

Jerry looked at her, hard.

“Yeah. They make milk now. Look, just drop me and Liza off. I’m going to take care of her.”

“With what? Your ass? I’m her brother, who the heck are YOU?” Jerry scoffed, but his voice had dropped. He was eyeing her tits, now.

He had to be thinking: this, but even bigger?

“Yes! I will! Look, I know what you mean about this being—I’m having some really fucked up fantasies right now.” She could see them, just by squeezing her eyes shut. They’d put her and Liza in first class on the plane. There was a co-ed sitting between them, a college girl at Dartmouth, and she was breathing hard already. The race was on between her and Liza—who could get the girl sucking titty before the plane touched tarmac? “But you know what I’m noticing? No matter what?”

“What?” Jerry crossed his arms.

“Liza’s in ALL of them. Even the ones where we’re moo cows. Now pick up your sister and lets get the hell out of here!”