“The Secret of Brookrose College”
By Templeton Rose
They had entered the secret passage from which Bethany-2 and Maggie-6 had first emerged. The corridor had been narrow, and Alisha had followed Sister Maggie’s lead as the older woman held her opal necklace up. Its glow increase, acting as both a lantern and the hypnotic by which the nun continued to entrance the young student.
Following behind Alisha single file were Sisters Bethany and Rachael, and the clones. Taking up the column’s tail end was Bethany-2, who carried the unconscious Julie over her shoulder effortlessly.
The secret corridor came to a descending staircase, which the line of nude women followed down. It exited onto a larger chamber, built of brick, with various other passages spoking off from it.
Sister Maggie spoke, the campus tour only victims ever received. “You’ve no doubt heard the legends of Brookrose, the secret passages which weave their way through the dorms and classroom buildings. But rather than for ghosts or mad scientists experimenting on girls or whatever the villain of the story is these days, these were originally meant to protect the school’s students. They were constructed when the campus was first founded in the 1850s, when anti-Catholic sentiment was high and civil war looming. It’s hard to imagine now, but there was real fear that some group or another would come out here to the middle of nowhere, and try to kidnap the school’s girls. So in addition to the passageways, large storage areas—we’d think of them as bunkers now—were also constructed so all the students could hide in safety for days or even weeks if necessary.”
They continued to walk, Sisters Rachael’s and Maggie’s shoes clicking against the stone floor, Alisha’s bare feet growing cold against it. She was calmed by Maggie’s opal, made compliant with simple commands, but she was still herself. Her rational mind, terrified despite her body being rendered calm, was still looking for a way to escape, and hopefully save Julie too.
Maggie continued: “The school never acknowledged the secret passages, no one but the college’s chancellors typically being aware of them. But it was as if the students, in a form of mass feminine intuition, always knew. The stories grew from their intuition, populating with villains that would kidnap and rape them, the cast changing with the times.
“In the 1880s as Victorian spiritualism was coming into vogue, the story was ghosts of lustful women taking possessing of living girls’ bodies.
“In the 1910s, it was the Kaiser’s agents supposedly turning students into hypnotized wives for German soldiers. In the ’20s, the villains became mobsters, the story becoming that entranced women were being sold into white slavery.
“On and on it went. In the 1950s, the villains were communists conducting mind control experiments. In the 1980s, satanists. In the 1990s, it was aliens, no doubt because of The X-Files. Yet whoever the antagonists of the story, the overall theme was always the same: young women being taken against their will, and transformed into sex slaves. Such an interesting, subconscious blend of both what women fear, and what they secretly yearn for.”
Maggie went on: “Imagine that fear and desire being felt by generation upon generation of young women. Now, imagine that these fears and desires aren’t just ephemera as we tend to think of thoughts. What if instead they’re a kind psychic energy that, like radiation, can soak into the physical environment, growing and growing in time?”
Maggie’s commentary gave Alisha something sane to focus on. It made her think of the quantum physics they’d discussed with Julie while studying physics one night. It was known that certain particles didn’t have a set position in space and time until they were observed. What if it was less that observation gave an existing particle a set position in space-time, and more that observation—and the observer’s expectation of what would be seen—actually conjured the particle itself into reality?
The deeper they went, the passageways became more lived-in. Rather than bare, stonewalls, sheets had been hung in several of the chambers they passed. Along with the satin-covered bedding and pillows covering their entire floors, it gave these chambers the impression of a sultan’s harem tent. The light in these harem chambers was soft as watercolor, coming as it did from opals like Maggie’s that that were suspended from the room’s ceilings.
Sister Maggie continued speaking as they walked down a passageway leading to a particularly brightly lit chamber. “If we think of psychic energy as a kind of radiation, might it not be possible that after enough time the very stones of this school might become so enriched with that power that they will become critical? A self-replicating reactor powerful enough to give that feminine fear and lust actual physical form? Even self-awareness?”
They came to the chamber’s entrance. Maggie stepped out of the way, compelling Alisha to walk into the glowing chamber first. “That’s precisely what happened here at Brookrose,” Sister Maggie said. “Allow me to introduce you to it, our master: Lord Foeto.”
The chamber was circular, and the largest Alisha had seen on her tour of the Brookrose underground. View of the entire space was blocked, however, as the entrance was crowded by the other Brookrose nuns that had supposedly left for Christmas break.
No older than Maggie and some as young as Rachael, they were all nude except for their heels and stockings—evidently, the cult’s uniform. Seeing them dressed like that and revealed as part of this twisted group wasn’t the most shocking part of it for Alisha, however.
No, the most shocking thing was that each of them appeared to be six or even seven months pregnant now. It was impossible, though. Alisha seen most of them as Christmas break was beginning just a few days earlier, and they had all been as trim as Maggie, Bethany, and Rachael.
All the pregnant nuns leered at Alisha. She could feel their hungry gazes on her young body. Several of them started to leak milk from their heavy tits.
The nude, pregnant nuns weren’t the only ones to greet Alisha and the others as they entered. Interspersed among the pregnant nuns were more slick-skinned clones.
There were more editions not just of Maggie and Bethany, but also Rachael and the other nuns. Alisha was horrified to see that there were clones of upperclassmen too, as well as other women who Alisha didn’t recognize but suspected were mothers of current students. With large tits and long hair, each clone was hyper-feminine… except for the erect cock bobbing between their legs.
The clones and impregnated nuns together numbering almost fifty, the combined heat of their lustful bodies made the chamber humid as a rain forest. Alisha’s bare feet had been growing cold, but the stone beneath her feet now radiated a throbbing warmth.
The watercolor, rainbow light that danced over all of them came from a source at the chamber center. Maggie ordered the crowd to part, and they did like a prophet commanding a sea. The feminine bodies formed a path, and Alisha finally saw the light’s source.
It was a being of solid light whose body, though bright, somehow did not harm Alisha’s eyes. Indeed, it was pleasant to look at it, as it was pleasant to look at the Maggie’ glowing opal. It was male in form, shaped like a bodybuilder, and naked with a dozen tendrils extending from where an ordinary cock would be. These glowing tendrils were thick, yet moved about him as lightly as jellyfish’s tentacles in a calm ocean. From each tendril’s tip dripped a liquid viscous as oil, yet shimmering a deep violet.
This was Lord Foeto, what generations of Brookrose women had subconsciously birthed.
Two, red satin mattresses had been placed before Brookrose’s king. Bethany-2 laid Julie on the one to the left, while Alisha was directed to kneel on the one to the right.
Julie began to stir, the stunning blast she had received finally wearing off. Her eyes fluttered as she propped herself up on the mattress, then snapped wide open as she saw Lord Foeto, the naked and pregnant nuns, the dickgirl clones, and her best friend made to kneel naked beside her.
The insanity of it all made Julie’s scream too large to escape her throat. “Wha-what?”
Lord Foeto voice was deep, resonating, and commanding, as all women secretly wish their mate to speak to them: “No need for questions. It’s enough that you know you’re being used as you were always meant to be.”
Then quick as striking vipers, two of his light tendrils extended, their tips opening, and latched onto Julie’s nipples.
The Asian girl started to scream, but the pleasure she felt washing over her transformed it to a moan. Light from the tentacle cocks pulsed into Julie. Her body relaxed as her eyes began to glow blue.
If Lord Foeto was the quantum embodiment of women’s desires, he reflected that back by making them into what men desire.
What little body hair Julie had evaporated from her like water dripped onto the logs of a roaring fire. Her tits, tiny enough that she’d worn padded bras, swelled to C-cups. As they grew, their veins glowed dimly as they rapidly filled with milk. At a cellular level, her body’s healing process sped up ensuring she would stay young and nubile.
From ten feet away, Alisha watched her friend’s enslavement in silent, enforced terror. So shocked was she by Julie’s transformation, Alisha didn’t notice two tentacles approaching her until they latched onto her own nipples.
She wasn’t even aware of her own body as it began the same changes Julie just underwent. In her mind, time seemed to stop. All the shackles that society and proper upbringing had placed on her female Id were unlocked.
The darkest parts of her subconscious flowed into her psyche like a river merging into a stream. Its currents were often contradictory: to be a slut and to be a mother, to be controlled and to control others; yearn for domination by a cock, yet craving the softness only a woman’s body can offer; to have a sisterhood with other women, and yet to see those same women be enslaved; for her family to be happy, yet be as depraved as she was becoming.
She understood that it was a good thing, being a slave with these other women. That Sister Maggie bringing her and her friend here to be transformed was an act of love. Alisha somehow now understood too how this love would play out: she would be made pregnant like the nuns in the crowd, and give birth in a matter of weeks to what would grow in a matter of hours into a beautiful dickgirl clone of herself.
But she wouldn’t be bred by Lord Foeto. No, he could transform a woman with those cocks of light, pleasure and enslave her with them, but it still took biological cum to conceive.
The transformation of her body complete, the tentacles withdrew from Alisha’s tits, newly swelled. She leaned back onto the satin mattress, as Julie already had, and like her friend spread her legs, proudly exposing for her fellow Brookrose sisters her slick, ready pussy.
Touching her swollen clit, Alisha wondered who would breed them. Among the futa clones, there was certainly no shortage of prime cum. She hoped, though, it would be a clone of Sister Maggie. The school’s chancellor being a mother figure, it somehow felt right for Alisha to breed with a piece of her.
But it wasn’t Maggie’s or another other nuns’ clone that approached the spread coeds. From the back of the crowd approached two futas, one Asian, the other White.
Alisha had thought that with everything she had seen this evening that she would have been beyond surprising. How wrong she was. To her astonishment, the approaching futas with their precum-dripping cocks were familiar: clones of her and Julie’s mothers.
They appeared to be in their mid-20s, younger, tighter versions of the women that had birthed them. They were dressed in thigh highs stockings and heels, and nothing else. They looked at the ready coeds with a lust so intense that it seemed to make the chamber’s moist warmth even hotter. Their tight bodies glistened with a moist sheen.
The clone of Julie’s mother fell on her daughter without word, kissing her intensely as she jammed her dick into Julie’s pussy.
Alisha’s mother’s clone, JoAnn-1, crept over her mate more deliberately.
“Mom?” Alisha whispered.
“A piece of her,” JoAnn-1 whispered. “But I would love it if you called me that.”
Alisha felt the clone’s heavy, slick, and warm tits press against her own. “Mom,” Alisha said again tentatively, still unused to using the word with a lover, “it means that she was taken by Lord Foeto? All this time she’s been a slave too?”
“Yes, and she was bred, and had to hide her two-week pregnancy before she had me. Now you’re going to be bred.” The clone kissed Alisha as her cockhead pressed against the girl’s wet opening. “Being pregnant. What a wonderful way to spend winter break, isn’t it?”
“Is it,” Alisha groaned. “Christmas is about giving birth, after all.”
The clone smiled, then pressed her dick in.
The futa’s cock was big, and it was a strange cocktail of pain and pleasure as it entered her. But the clone was slow, loving as a mother should be, allowing Alisha’s body to adapt.
“My little girl’s pussy is so wet,” JoAnn-1 breathed into Alisha’s ear.
Alisha groaned, “Only for you, mommy. This is your pussy now. Mommy can fuck it whenever she wants.”
It had seemed impossible, but the futa’s dick was becoming harder and bigger. “Mommy is going to want to fuck you so much when you’re big and pregnant.”
The thought of herself pregnant excited Alisha more than she imagined possible. Both her, and her best friend nice and big…so hot.
She glanced over at Julie. Obviously close to cumming, her mother-clone was pumping Julie’s pussy like it was a race. The Asian coed’s face was slick with sweat, her only words a begging moan to be filled with hot seed.
Around them, Alisha suddenly saw that the chamber had descended into an orgy. Heavily pregnant nuns being fucked by their own clones. Clones fucking or sucking off one another.
In the chamber’s center, Alisha saw Sisters Maggie, Bethany, and Rachael on all-fours before Lord Foeto, a cock of light lancing each woman’s pussy and ass. They screamed their god’s name, every thrust their reward for capturing Julie and Alisha.
Alisha turned back to the lust-crazed face of her mother-clone. “Good,” Alisha said, “because your little girl is going to need so much dick when she’s pregnant. Going to need you to help drain her milky tits too.”
JoAnn-1, still fucking Alisha, leaned in and took one of the college girl’s thick nipples into her mouth.
Her breasts so new to the heaviness inside them, Alisha felt relief at the pressure being drained. It also made Alisha cum then and there, so intense and close was the feeling. The clone fed lustfully, the sweetness of Alisha’s tits sending JoAnn-1 into a frenzy, making her thrust harder into the girl.
Alisha hadn’t any conscious thought at that moment, but instinctively she knew all was right in the world. This was natural. To provide milk, and to receive cum. To feed offspring, and to make them. This was her purpose.
JoAnn-1’s let go of Alisha’s hard nipple, pressed her milk-covered lips onto Alisha’s mouth. Alisha tasted her own sweetness, and at her core wanted to drink from the other Brookrose mothers, like Sisters Maggie and Bethany, and her fellow mother-to-be Julie.
Milk now coating both women’s lips, the clone groaned: “Fuck, I’m so close, you’re going to make me cum, you’re going to make mommy’s girldick cum so hard!”
Alisha grabbed onto the clone’s ass, her nails digging in. “Fucking cum in me! Fuck me pregnant!”
The clone-mother cried out as she drove her body as deeply into Alisha’s as she could, “Oh god, I’m cumming, I’m going to breed my little girl! Fucking take mommy’s cum!”
Alisha felt the warmth of JoAnn-1’s seed rush into her. This was the first time she’d ever given her pussy to a unprotected cock, and the sensation of being filled overwhelmed her: “I want both of you and my dickgirl clone sucking my tits! I want to watch my clone daughter fuck your ass! I want—oh fuck, I’m cumming, mommy is making my pussy cummmmm!”