The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter One — Adopt, Don’t Shop

Piper’s been spending a lot of time thinking. She’s not good at it, nor does she do it often nowadays, but ever since her three best friends were adopted there’s been nothing to do at the shelter but to think—aside from the occasional walk outside. She’d sneak off the trail and go for a splash of skinny dipping in the big pond, but the caretakers would come and tell her to get out, though they’d never be too upset with her.

She’s a good girl.

Unlike Harley, who’s been a spoiled, entitled, unmanageable brat since before she started kindergarten. She’s had every opportunity and still has turned out completely rotten.

She always took after her mother, and now that she’s gone she’s always up in arms against her father, Hayden King, majority shareholder and CEO of a highly successful restructuring advisory firm on Bank Street in Fylth City, called King Better Business. No matter what he’d try or say or do, Harley rebels for the sake of rebelling, as being contrarian has become her whole identity.

He understands that it’s hard on her too, but every man’s got his limits. And she’s wrecked his home on several occasions by throwing wild parties and one time almost burning it to the ground, and vandalizing small businesses in the city and leaving her father to pick up the pieces and keep her out of jail.

Last week she broke into a neighbor’s car and took it for a joyride, and drove it into the wall of a strip club in the middle of the Fylth City harbor.

Enough is enough.

So today, just two days after Harley’s last big yelling frenzy at two in the morning, he wakes up early and gets a roll of duct tape. After a brief struggle on the couch, his bratty bitch of a daughter is in the trunk of his car, hogtied and gagged, screaming and squirming the whole way to the Landon Hamilton shelter for wayward girls up North.

The last time she was in her dad’s car she dared a junkie to take a shit on the back seat... and he did just that!

In Bleak End, time looks like it’s stood still. Most of it is doused in that charming quiet 18th century colonial style and exudes a sense of calm and safety. It’s about half an hour from Hidden Hills, reaching further into ‘rural’ Fylth—as the locals jokingly refer to it—which King remembers from his youth growing up.

So much has changed in his lifetime.Booms of industry and population, and infrastructure... Only now are things really settling down again. Peace has returned to the world... though it doesn’t look nearly the same.

And if the world can get some rest, so can he. He should no longer expose himself to this source of discontent to whom nothing is ever good enough. He’s earned his peace.

The shelter is made up of three noticeably different parts. The front building, which has large windows and bright paint, which allows a lot of natural light coming in through a sunroof and the front windows, and the large double doors that make up the entrance. Then, behind it, a large, wholly utilitarian block-shaped collection of corridors hidden behind the modern front, where all the girls are kept. Finally, large gated-off grounds which simulates a park of some sort, complete with paths, a little bridge, a small lake—all things good girls need to stay happy.

Harley’s still in the trunk as he gets out of his car to alert the mousy-looking woman sitting at the front desk of the shelter of his arrival.

“I’m Hayden King, I heard you take walk-ins?”

The absolutely tiny woman nods, her composure wholly unfazed as if she’d expected King to walk up and speak at that exact moment and say that exact thing, and had scheduled in the interruption two weeks ago. “Yes, sir. Are you here to adopt?”

“Here to surrender.” he replies. “My daughter.”

The consummate professional taps a few things quickly on her computer then turns to King. “Right. Do you have her with you?”

“She’s in my trunk.”

“We’ll need her ID, and some proof of guardianship like her birth certificate.” the woman goes on, ever the same expression on her face, having gone through moments just like this one countless times before. “Does she have a criminal record?”

“I have that with me.” King say, tapping his jacket pocket. “And, yes, she’s got a rather long one, 431 points if I’m not mistaken. Most counts are minor, some of fifteen are pretty serious, and they all add up.”

“Is she docile?” the woman asks. “I assume she won’t be, given the 431 points against her and the fact you’ve put her in the trunk. Or did you administer a tranquilizer?”

“Restrained with duct tape. And no, she’s not docile at all. Quite the opposite in fact.”

“Right.” the woman nods, and gets a red tag from a little box under the desk. “Will you help me load her into a cage?”

King sneaks a peek at her badge. Trainer Sara, it reads.

Sara comes around the desk and brings a large cage on wheels with her. The handlebars at the back make it look like a shopping cart.

“Of course!” he nods, leading the woman towards his black luxury SUV, using his fob to unlock the trunk.

There she is. Harley King, hogtied and screaming. Red in the face, her mascara smeared down her cheeks from crying, her hair in a mess.

“She’s pretty.” Sara says, though it sounds more like shallow pleasantries than a statement of fact. She’s not wrong, though, Harley is very easy on the eyes.

“I’d leave the duct tape on. She’s bitten a cop for telling her she was trespassing once.” he informs the woman.

“Oh. Well, that’s not very good, is it?” Sara shrugs the comment off. “We get a lot of hopeless cases nowadays. Could you fit her into the cage, please?”

She comes around to open the cage, and peels the back off the red sticker tag, sticking it on top of the hard plastic cage shell to indicate the occupant is hostile.

King lifts his daughter up by an arm and a leg, and almost swings her into the open cage, whereupon Sara closes it shut and locks it in three places.

Harley’s bouncing around, screaming her head off into the gag, kicking against the door.

“Is she going to be okay in there?” King wonders out loud.

“Oh, these cages are pretty strong. We get a lot of unfriendly surrenders, we’re used to it.” Sara remarks in an unnervingly casual tone. “Best to let her tire herself out. Once she’s exhausted we’ll strap her to a bench and see if we can break that rebellious spirit. Do you want us to mail you back the clothes she’s wearing?”

King shakes his head in the most casual fashion, accompanied by a mild shrug. “No, I don’t care. I just need her out of my life.”

“Perhaps looking to trade up? We have a good selection of very lovely girls inside, and they’re quite well-behaved!” she tries. “I’m sure we have a few you’ll take a liking to!”

“No thank you, I’m just here to get rid of my horrible daughter.” King sighs. “Sorry. I’m not here to adopt.”

Just then, a beautiful young woman—can’t be a day over 19—walks up to them from the bus stop right outside the parking. Beautiful tanned skin, long dark hair, deep green eyes, and a wonderful set of perky round breasts.

“Hi.” she starts, looking a little nervous. “Do you, uh... Do I need a reservation?”

“Are you here to adopt?” Sara asks the anxious beauty.

“Here to surrender.” the woman replies. “Do you take walk-ins?”

“Well, I’m helping this gentlemen right now, but if you’ll come inside we’ll get you sorted as soon as we can, sweetheart.”

“Right.” she nods, and looks over at King. “It’s... normal to be nervous, right?”

“I guess.” King smiles. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” she lies in the most unconvincing manner, in a desperate attempt to convince herself. She even throws in a smile, but it’s overly forced and comes across as if she’s two seconds from bolting off the lot, screaming.

Sara carts off Harley, still kicking and screaming inside the cage. “We’ll need her identification and things at the front desk.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” King says and turns to the woman. “Friends call me King.”

“I’m Saige.” she replies, going a little pale.

He looks her up and down from up close. “I know you, don’t I? Saige Pruitt? Castor Pruitt’s daughter, CEO of the Pruitt & Pruitt investment firm?”

She bites her lip and nods weakly. “That’s me. At least, used to be, I guess.” Then she lets out a sigh. “I thought I’d come here and at least no-one would know me but... I can’t even get into the building without being recognized.”

Everyone who’s worked on Bank Street at any time in the last quarter century knows Castor Pruitt. He’s a hard but fair man... at least he used to be. Over the past few years he’s developed a real mean streak, and stocks for his company have been on the decline because of it, after a rather nasty public divorce. “I’m in corporate finance myself and worked for your father’s company for a few years. I’ve seen pictures of you on his desk.”

“Oh, those probably aren’t there anymore.” she sighs. “It’s... I’m sorry, you’re not here to listen to my sob story.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve got time if you want something off your chest.” he smiles. “Let’s go inside and talk about it.”

He walks towards the shelter, but she stays in place, as if frozen. Of course he notices right away.

“Coming?”

“Uh, yeah. Be there in a second.” she replies in the unconvincing tone from before, her sweet voice breaking from stress.

King stays calm, smiles and holds out a hand. “Don’t be scared. They’re not gonna hurt you.”

Hesitantly she takes King’s hand and he walks her into the building.

As they pass through the doors, she slows down and squeezes his hand. Her breathing is heavy, and she’s doused in a light but noticeable amount of sweat.

“Come on. Tell me what’s on your mind.” he insists, keeping hold of her dainty hand as they sit down in the waiting room.

“It’s... a very long story. And you’d get bored.” she sighs.

“Try me.” he smiles, trying to show her some kindness to relax. “Does it have anything to do with your dad turning into a hard-ass?”

“A few years ago... my mom was caught cheating on my dad... it was a whole thing.” Saige explains. Just talking about it seems to leave the poor thing exhausted.

King nods. “I know. It made the papers.”

“Well, now that he’s with his new wife...” she says, taking a deep, troubled breath. “... my stepmother has decided she doesn’t want anything in the house that was my mother’s...”

“Including your mother’s daughter, I bet.”

“Right.” she nods. “I’ve not been kicked out just yet but... she has been doing everything in her power to get rid of me. Permanently.”

“You mean...?” he asks, gesturing a thumb along his neck.

“Oh, no. Not like that. I mean, it’d be easier if she was out to kill me, I’d go to the police. No, she’s more devious than that. For the past year and a half she’s made me persona-non-grata across the country. I’ve even tried to move to out West to Brielleburg or Bimbo Haven or go back to Daugherty but... well, she’s got people everywhere. She just wants me to disappear, and nowhere is far enough.”

“And now you’re disappearing.” King says. “That sucks, kid. Wish I could help you.”

“Yeah, well... if it’s good enough for runaways, it’s good enough for me, right?” she shrugs, defeated.

“What were you going to do in Daugherty?” he wonders. “Did you try out for Yondervale Farms? I know a lot of girls do, it’s kind of a big deal.”

“I studied at Vale University, actually, since I was sixteen, and graduated right before my eighteenth birthday. It’s a great place to study; the whole school is one big campus town that’s both University and College, with a high security zone on-campus that nobody’s supposed to know about but everyone does. There’s so much to do and see, and hang out with wonderful people...” she tells. “Everything was fine until I graduated and I returned home and now... now...”

“What should have been a triumphant return has been anything but.” he nods. “I know what it’s like to live for one thing and get the opposite in return. I’ve tried so hard every day to make life for my daughter the very best it could be and she’s been... well, very unappreciative, to say the least.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He puts up a polite but awkward smile. “What did you study?” he asks, trying to change the conversation.

“History, and business. At one point I was expected to take over my dad’s firm in the next few decades but... that’s not happening.” She looks like she could start crying at any moment. “My life’s over... it’s been over since I graduated. Everything made sense when I was at campus... Now everything’s just horrible.”

“You like history?”

“Yeah. Continental history mostly. Albion, Bathykolpian, Callipygian, Viragoan...” she nods. “I’ve been to dig sites in Virago and Bathykolpia and Callipygia where they excavated temples and shrines and studied the intricate wall and ceiling paintings depicting their religion. It always amazed me that such primitive people could paint with actual gold and silver and...”

The girl rattles on and on, and King lets her speak. It’s obvious she’s trying desperately to unwind. She talks, and talks, and talks, and King just sits there, listening, a slight smile on his face.

“Even now we’re not exactly sure how they did that! There’s ideas, of course, but no solid theory on how they did it with the tools available to them. Yet, the proof is there, they did manage to find a way...” she goes on, then catches herself. “... Sorry. I’m boring you.”

He chuckles. “So what exactly did they paint?”

For just a glorious moment, she feels like she’s back in her dorm room, reading through that massive history book in her bunk. The one with the thick, intimidating hardcover, that some students—after failing out of the course—propped up under some bricks and used as a coffee table.

All’s right in the world.

“Uh, well many temples were dedicated to the virgin princesses of life, fertility and health, which they saw as one and the same concept. Someone infertile was considered as already dead and was often made to serve the public, which was their only remaining value.”

She completely loses herself in her passion, having fully forgotten where she is and what she came here to do.

“They saw slavery as an honor rather than oppression, and many volunteered for the chance to be owned by someone they perceived as better than them. Being a slave meant belonging to something better than yourself, greater than yourself... it’s how they valued life’s purpose. There’s even countless records of people becoming severely depressed when being turned down when offering themselves to be property.” she goes on. “There were young women, referred to as ‘princesses’, who did nothing all day except being bred by fertile young men, and were tended to in their every need.”

“Anything you want to add for bonus points?” he chuckles.

She puts on a smile. “Thanks for trying to distract me. I feel better.”

“Alright then.” he chuckles. “Full marks.”

She looks relieved, somehow. At least she’s no longer trembling.

“Sorry about that. I just... get nervous. School made sense to me and where I am right now in life... doesn’t.” she sighs. “I just wanna be somewhere where I’m wanted... and I don’t know where to go. I mean, who’ll take me in?”

Then a light goes off in his head.

“Actually... I have a friend who worked for your dad until he fired him over in-office politics. My buddy’s a good guy, though, and he’s pretty well-off. If you want, I can give him a call, I’m sure he’d pay whatever it takes to own you, and not just to get back at your old man. He’s got pet bimbo already and I know he’s looking to get his little Yana a friend.” King goes, his mind churning on his realization. “His name’s Joe. Joseph Bennett. I’m confident he’d treat you like a princess, and at least you wouldn’t need to stay at the shelter for very long—not beyond your mandatory low-level bimbofication at least.”

“You mean that?” she asks, the color coming back to her beautiful face.

“I’ll give him a call, it’s no trouble. He’s gonna be really thrilled, I’m sure.”

She’s experiencing the kind of relief people feel when they get their first big payday after a long rut of living paycheck to paycheck.

Saige cracks a smile and a few tears drip down her flush cheeks. “Yeah. I’d love that, thank you so much.”

“No trouble.” King smiles back. “If I see you again, I hope you’ll remember me!”

He snaps a picture of her with his phone, and sends it with a message to his friend.

‘Urgent! Do you want to own Saige Pruitt? This is not a hypothetical.’ he asks in a message.

‘What do you mean?’ the reply follows quickly.

‘She’s surrendering herself at the Landon Hamilton shelter for wayward girls right off the 202 in Bleak End. Get over here and adopt her before someone scoops her up!’

‘Give her my number. Have her call me.’

King chuckles. “Got your phone with you?”

“No. Sorry, I left everything I had, except my ID and whatever cash I could get out of my dad’s home office.” she shrugs. “I’m probably reported as a thief right now.”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. Once you’re surrendered as a bimbo your criminal record is expunged.” he winks, and hands her his phone. “Here, talk to my friend.”

She takes a moment to try and mentally prepare before taking the phone, and pushing the call button.

“Mister...?” the member of the shelter staff asks, calling King over and waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Hayden King.” King says, walking up to the front desk and extending his hand to shake. “Harley’s dad. At least, I used to be, I guess.”

“Good morning, mister King, I’m Rick. I’ve got some documents for you to sign for your voluntary surrender, and I’ll need her ID and proof of your guardian status.” the man says, handing over a clipboard with a pen fixed to it via a thin plastic chain.

King puts Harley’s ID and birth certificate on the counter, and Rick takes them to enter into her file.

“Just sign the boxes at the bottom of each page, write your name above it with the date. We’ll take good care of your girl. Though, I must remind you that this process is permanent, you cannot come back to reclaim the girl after you’ve signed these papers and given her up...”

“Oh, I should have done this years ago!” he chuckles, signing his daughter over to the shelter. “I’m just really, really glad to be finally rid of her.”

“Still, sir, we get a lot of people who rethink their situation mere days later...”

“Don’t you worry! I’m never coming back for this girl.” he chuckles, smiling. He’s so glad to finally have her out of his life, the ungrateful brat. Relief washes over him.

“Whatever you say, sir.” Rick shrugs. “But you wouldn’t be the first, or the last who has a change of heart on the way home.”

“Do you think Harley’s gonna be okay?”

“I dunno, she’s really bossy and headstrong.” he shrugs. “We’ll probably put her on a strong course of MC drugs to soften her up for rehabilitation and try zapping the disobedience out of her but if she can’t be trained to be more agreeable and servile then I’m afraid she’ll end up on a quicklist to be put down.”

That makes King gasp. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the sad reality of things.” Rick nods. “We just don’t have the manpower and resources to devote too long to any one girl. We run on contributions from the province, we gotta run an efficient ship if we wanna stay on that taxpayer payroll. We were getting monthly donations from the Landon group but he died a few weeks ago and we’re getting cut off, I’m afraid. We’re a protected service so we’ll get some money from the government every month either way but without the Landon Hamilton Foundation we’re looking to cut three out of five jobs...”

King nods along, not really sure how he can help with this. The man’s dead, and it seems like the well’s dried up. Nothing lasts forever... so he just tries to change the topic. “So, uh, give it to me straight. You see any hope for her?”

“Girl like that...” Rick starts, then sucks some air audibly through clenched teeth. “I can tell, I can almost guarantee she’s going to end up on the list sooner rather than later. She’s got an awful lot of fight in her and girls like that just aren’t... economically viable.”

King nods his head, somberly. “I understand. Well, it’s her own fault she is where she is... If she wants to make something of herself she’ll get her last chance here.”

“We’ll give her a fair shot, sir, but it’s completely up to her whether or not she takes it.”

King finishes signing the documents, and hands the clipboard back.

“Will that be everything?”

“Well, sir, could you do me a favor? Just walk through the back, look at some girls, see if there’s any you wanna take home. I mean, now that Harley’s gone I assume you got room for at least one, right?” Rick tries. “You might get lonely living by yourself... just think about it.”

“I dunno...” King replies, groaning slightly. “Harley was a handful and...”

“Oh, but we got a lot of really good girls! We’re the finest girl shelter in the whole state of Fylth, we don’t deal in lemons here.” Rick insists, interrupting. “Come on, we got a lot of really sweet girls here and they’re dying for just a chance. They just wanna make people happy!”

King’s not sold just yet.

“I’ll do you one better. Just go and take a look, and—if—you find a girl you wanna take home I’ll waive the administration fee of a hundred and fifty bucks for both the surrender and the adoption.”

“And what if I do and I don’t find any girl I wanna take home?” King asks.

Rick immediately points to a vending machine in the waiting room and says “I’ll buy you two instant noodle cups, any flavor you want. No questions asked.”

King bursts out laughing. “Well, sure. If it’d mean that much to you, I’ll take a look in the back.”

Sara returns to the waiting room and calls out. “Miss? We’re ready for your surrender.”

Saige gets up and comes by to hand King his phone back, then takes a deep breath. “Here I go!”

“Good luck!” King chuckles, and smacks her on her ass, making it jiggle. “You’re gonna do great, kid!”

She giggles. “I’ll do my very best!”

Saige is smiling, though still quite nervous she’s doing much better than before. Having something to look forward to rather than staring into the dark unknown must have taken away a large amount of stress.

He’s happy for her.

King gets a peck on the cheek before Sara leads young Saige away, and it puts a big goofy smile on his face.

When checking his phone, he sees a new message.

‘Thanks, King, I owe you one.’

He writes down Joseph Bennett’s name and number on a sticky note. “Do yourself a favor, call this guy and get that new girl’s adoption process going. She’ll be out of your hair the second she’s done being processed.”

Rick chuckles. “Oh, fun. Made-to-order, huh?” He picks up the phone to call as he buzzes King through the large doors to the kennels.

Immediately he’s at the start of a long corridor with cages on either side, each with a bimbo and a comfy bunk, and some colorful magazines and toys to keep them busy, along with televisions for them to watch on the back wall. All in all not bad for a bimbo.

They stand up and look at this new man wandering about their kennel.

One reaches out through the gap between the door and the wire fence wall to try and grab his arm, but he stays out of the way.

“Someone’s frisky.” he chuckles at the redhead trying for his attention, but walks on by.

“Sir?” she calls out. “Come back, please...”

He returns, and grins. “You can talk.”

“I’m a Type 1.” she smiles, blushing nervously. “I’d like to go home with you...”

King’s only encountered a Type 1 bimbo once before. It was in PosiPharma headquarters during a meeting where he served as an adviser. It stood out to him a little, because PosiPharma advertised their ‘ethical research facilities’, meaning they don’t experiment on poor, helpless animals—they experiment on bimbos. Types 4 and 5—though the latter are nothing more than living breathing sex dolls fully reliant on some form of remote controlled brain implant to be honest—with the occasional Type 1 and 2 doing busywork around the office like working reception, and cooking and cleaning.

“I’m sorry, little one. I’m not here to adopt. Just... browsing.”

She pouts. “That’s cruel. You got my hopes up.”

“I’m sorry.” King offers.

They’re all cute and all, but he’s really not here to shop. In fact, he feels a little uneasy checking out these girls like they’re on display in a zoo. Still, no harm in just looking around.

He’s sauntering around slow, hands in his pockets, looking over the girls as the corridor takes a right corner and continues on with four more corridors full of girls on either side, each in a cage.

They’re all clean and active and well taken care of, and they seem friendly enough. But still, King’s not looking to take home a girl.

Then he bumps into one, rounding the corner.

“Oops. Sorry about that.” he offers, looking down at this adorably tiny young woman walking around. She has long, straight black hair that’s obviously dyed and—especially relative to her size—absolutely massive, round breasts that are so perfect and plush they make her look even smaller.

Big brown doe eyes, a little button nose and tiny pink lips. King towers over this beauty in scrubs.

She’s eyeing him up just like he’s checking her out, and it’s obvious to him.

“No trouble.” she says. She’s thin and slender with wide hips, but in terrific shape. “Looking to adopt?”

“You’re not one of the options, are you?” he smiles. “I’d love to have three of you...”

She puts on a playful but forced smile. “I’m pretty sure you couldn’t handle just—one—of me... but if you’re just looking for a quick blowjob, I could do with fifty bucks.” she replies, trailing her index finger up and down his tight abs.

“Fifty bucks for a quickie with you? Sounds like I’m getting away with daylight robbery, but, won’t the bimbos get too excited?” he chuckles.

“We can have some privacy in the back.” she teases. “I’m half serious, by the way. Us bimbo technicians are the first who’re gonna get fired when the funding runs out so a little extra will do me good.”

“Bimbo technicians? What do they do...” he asks, looking down at her tag hanging off her left breast. “...Skylar?”

“We work one-on-one with the bimbos, usually in either kennels or care wards. We monitor and maintain the health of the bimbos under our care and assist with receiving and processing new bimbos, cleaning and changing cages and providing food and drink.”

“And when do the blowjobs come into it?”

“Well, so far they haven’t but, with our main benefactor dying a girl’s gotta keep her options open.” she shrugs. “I was mostly joking, though. Except if you’d have agreed. Then I would have been serious.” she winks, patting him on the chest. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Your friend Rick wanted me to at least look at the girls.” he explains, smiling. “Hopes I’ll find one I really like. But right now all I got eyes for is you.”

She rolls her eyes but blushes all the same. “Well, since you’re going to be that way, let me just tell you... if you ask me out for dinner or drinks, I’m absolutely gonna say yes.”

“What if I don’t ask?” he asks, reaching out slowly to rub his thumb down her soft cheek and his fingers through her long hair. “What if I just tell you to meet me for dinner?”

“Well...” she says, biting her lip, looking up at him, “... that’s not leaving me any choice then, is it?” She reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone, typing her number in there.

“So you like forward guys, huh?” he chuckles.

“Not into most guys to be honest. Just brick shithouses like you. Guys who make me feel tiny...” she winks. “I gotta get back to work. You’ll... text me?”

“You can bet your ass I will.” he smiles. “I just gotta know one thing... Are they...?”

“Real?” she grins, and bounces in place to make her large, prominent breasts jiggle. “Yeah they are! Take me somewhere fancy and you might even get to find that out for yourself!”

“I look forward to seeing more of you.” he winks. “And the twins too, of course.”

“Wait... I didn’t even get your name.” she blinks. “I’m Skylar Pinke.”

“Hayden King. Friends call me King.”

He shakes her hand, and she smiles.

“What do your dates call you?”

A smile back. “Your pick.”

“Hayden.” she winks. “I gotta go... don’t keep me waiting for that text, okay?”

“Oh, I won’t!” he chuckles, waiting for her to turn her back and walk away, watching those large round buns fill up those scrubs as he sends her a text. ‘This soon enough?’

She checks her phone immediately and turns, smiling a blush. Then she types something and texts back. ‘I get off at five.’

“Bye, Skylar.” he offers with a grin.

She puts on the sweetest voice to keep him tempted. “Bye, Hayden.” As she walks off she smacks her round butt at him, giggling audibly.

Fuck, King thinks to himself, she got me all hard. I hope it doesn’t set off any of the girls here.

He remembers reading that people’s natural pheromones can set off bimbos, especially the ones further down the scale of intelligence. Hopefully his rather demanding erection won’t—pardon the phrase—arouse any chaos.

With his little—though not that little—buddy at attention in his pants, he makes is way down the last three corridors. Row after row of bimbo hanging out, all of them just looking at him, because they’re each aware—perhaps from the earlier conversation out loud—that he’s someone new walking around. Well, they are all cute and all but, still—and he must remind himself—he’s not here to adopt any of these girls.

That is, of course, until the very last cage.

When King gets to cage 14 at the end of the last corridor, he’s almost nose to nose with the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Dark blue eyes showing a playful nature with a deep mysterious core. Long white-blonde hair like lace, and thin black eyebrows. Long dark lashes, big soft lips. The most adorable little nose on this doll of a girl.

She’s a head shorter than him, with a massive pair of breasts on her, soft and warm, pressing against the wire fence, making little diamond shaped bulges in the side of the cage, and her slender fingers cling to the frame of it.

The beauty’s in a grey zip-up workout hoodie that she’ll never be able to close—not with how top-heavy she is—and a black rimmed blue sports bra pulling double duty on those massive mounds. Her waist is bare, and she’s showing an incredible amount of cleavage, though it doesn’t seem to bother her in the least. In fact, the way she slowly squirms in place seems to show she’s very, very comfortable.

That round, plump bubble butt and those long, slender legs are squeezed into a very tight set of light grey yoga pants, and her tiny feet are snug in a set of dark pink ballet slippers. Her nails are done in white, and she’s very well maintained...

... it seems this place may indeed be the best girl shelter in the state.

The girl in cage 14 looks at him, taking him in, as if she’s studying him. There’s a bunch of girls standing right at the cage to get a good look at this new man walking around, but none are looking at him like the girl in cage 14 is.

Then she leans in, pressing her chest further into the wire fence, and puckers those big soft lips up between, wordlessly begging for a kiss.

No, not begging. She wanted it, but she wasn’t begging. She was offering, perhaps to see if he’s as interested in her like she’s interested in him.

Slowly King leans in, careful not to spook the girl, and pecks her on the lips. she doesn’t let off, resting against the fence, waiting for another kiss.

And he gives her another, a good two seconds worth. Those lips are so soft... and the feeling of their noses rubbing together was so... intimate.

His hands come up as he gets eager for this girl. Sparks travel back and forth between their lips, though she does notice him move.

King branches out his fingers towards her, and she takes a step back as he slips them slowly through the wire fence.

Then, cautiously and gently, she leans in again, rubbing those large, round, perfect breasts up and down against the fingertips, making her smile at him, and her breathing picks up.

Now it was King puckering up his lips through the fence, and she gave him a little kiss, before jumping back into the cage, giggling, as if expecting him to open the door and get in there with her.

Part of him just wanted to stick his throbbing erection through the fence to see if she’d suck it...

... but he’s too smitten with her for that.

He’s dying for some relief though, and it may be affecting his decision-making process.

For now, he just puts his fingers through the fence, and she comes up and rubs her soft cheek against then, before sucking on his index finger, her beautiful eyes locked on his as she bobs back and forth diligently like a good girl.

“Wait right here, okay? I’ll be back...” he winks, and returns to the front desk to ask about her. The whole walk back he’s got a big, goofy smile on his face.

In fact, he walks as fast as he can so he can get back to the girl quicker.

“What can you tell me about the girl in cage 14?” King asks, leaning over the front desk to get the attendant’s attention.