The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Levi sat at the kitchen table, trying to study while Alina combed out and styled Dolly’s candy cane hair up into long schoolgirl pigtails across from him.

Textbooks and notepads lay open on the tabletop as he splintered his third ballpoint pen that hour between a massive thumb and forefinger. For the first time in his studious life, Levi couldn’t focus and that fact alone was frustrating.

And it wasn’t Alina’s cheerful humming or the ditzy little giggles that burbled up like hiccups from the Asian fuckdoll’s ginormous chest that was distracting him. But the seductive knowledge that none of it needed to matter anymore, with a garage full of mind-bending, body-warping gizmos in this very house.

…That and wet slurping noises of Kitten trying to suffocate herself on his giant member under the table as she diddled her sloppy pink slit silly.

“What’s the point of it all?” He growled at the world in general, casting the ruined pen aside. “Why would anyone put in the time and effort to succeed at anything when they can simply wave a magical doodad around and immediately have their every wish granted?”

“Is that what you want, Darling?” Alina asked nonchalantly, not looking up from where she was tying a pink bow in Dolly’s hair. “To throw away all the hard work and diligence that made you the man you are today? Say the word and I’ll gladly furnish you with any number of powerful objects to fulfill your every desire.”

The gorgeous blonde was dressed in a backless lace chemise in ivory silk that flowed over her big buoyant breasts like purest liquid silver and wafted like a fluffy twill cloud around her narrow waist. A matching white shoestring thong rode high over her lush hips before getting lost in the valley of a heart-shaped ass so wondrously round and firm, a thousand ghetto booty shakers would have sold their souls for a butt that merely imitated Alina’s juicy perfection.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Levi grumped, raising his voice to be heard over Kitten’s happy mewls and gurgles. “I may be flawed as a person but I’ve studied and struggled enough to be proud of what I have achieved in my life so far—”

He was cut off by an especially enthusiastic glorping sound as the bimbofied Latina maid took his immense manhood to the base and gagged loudly…

“Oh for fucks sake, Alina, tell her to take it down a notch or three. Kitten won’t listen to me when she’s like this and I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

“The poor girl is only trying to get your attention. My Lion.” Alina replied, giving him one of her dazzling thousand-watt smiles. “Just give her what she wants and I am certain she will quiet down soon.”

With a grunt from Levi and a joyful squeal from the jizzhound in question, he dragged the olive-skinned bombshell up by the hair and bent her over the kitchen table. Plentiful pliable sideboob pressed out on either side of her slim torso as Levi let his unmanageable hugeness smack between the bubbly butt cheeks that burst out from under the tiny flaring skirts of her french maid costume.

It looked like a supersized bratwurst in a tanned fleshy bun.

“Please, please, please…” Kitten begged as he smoothly slid his saliva-slicked length along the thick crease of her spankable ass-cleavage. “Use me, Master. I can’t get enough of feeling your hard Master dick against my skin. The heat of it scorches me—”

“I don’t know if this is any better, Love, but as I was saying…” Levi said, thrusting and watching Alina turn Dolly’s empty head to lay a fond peck on her cheek as she slipped a comically large pacifier past the moaning girl’s perpetually pouty purple lips. “I earned who I am today, recent changes withstanding, and isn’t that mankind’s greatest driving factor? Striving to be better, surpassing our limits and overcoming the impossible. All that stuff in the garage makes anything else seem cheap and cosmetic in comparison. Like getting plastic surgery or taking a shortcut, you know?”

His urgently erect and leaking monster cock threatened to make a liar of him, as constant spurts of pearly precum lubed the sinful passage between the curvy young maid’s jiggling glutes. Levi sank his clawing fingers into her generous rump anyway, squeezing firm handfuls around his pistoning shaft as Kitten gleefully clapped her fat ass back into him.

“I see you comprehend completely, Darling. I would expect nothing less from a great man such as yourself.” Alina purred, patting the vapidly smiling Dolly on the head before rising to saunter seductively around the long kitchen table on her five inch knife heels. “You hold no desire for those paltry offerings. There is no avarice in your gentle soul to take or possess that which you have not won through force of will or keen intellect. I say to myself… ‘See, Alina? Your trust and faith in this handsome young Lion is vindicated. He will not abuse that which you entrusted to his care’ and I know this thing to be true.”

She clicked up to Levi and pressed herself into his humping side, big creamy tits docking into his ripped bicep as the exotic Russian goddess leaned in to run her moist pink tongue across his chiseled jawline. It rasped along the rough stubble there and made him growl with animal arousal.

“...but what if you could?” Alina whispered, her hot breath curling around his earlobe as her soft questing hands snaked down over his rock-hard abs and fixed onto the base of his steely girth where it lurched under her buttery soft touch. “What if you acknowledged that you are a true Lion, deserving of adoration and affirmation? A king in all but name. As you say, my darling Levi, you have fought and struggled enough.

“Now is the time to throw caution to the wind and claim your fate, rain righteous retribution upon those who stymied your strength and be the man you were born to be!”

On a particularly energetic hotdogging back-thrust she dragged Levi’s tumescent tip lower and fed his spearing length into Kitten’s sodden pussy.

“Aaaiyeee~!”

The Latina maid quaked and quivered as he split her greedy cunt wide open. The backless cut of the frilly outfit gave Levi a show of her spinal muscles ripple and seize as she convulsed in an immediate climax from the sudden, brutal penetration. A thick french braid of lustrous midnight hung well past her narrow shoulders and he wrapped his fist around it to tug the gasping nymphet back into him like the reins of a bucking mare.

“I just finished saying… I. Don’t. Need. It.” He punctuated the last few huffed words with hammering thrusts into his joyfully yowling Kitten that shifted the heavy mahogany dining table a few inches across the tiled floor. “I have you, Alina and all the stories about magical lamps and wishes end as cautionary tales. You can’t tell me you aren’t a little scared of some of that shit back there, you have it all locked up good and tight.”

Hesitation loomed large in his lover’s brilliant emerald eyes for a fleeting moment before they flickered to a gunmetal gray and her dark lashes drooped with sultry desire.

“Bah, genies are troublesome spirits but the one in that lamp is long gone.” The sultry minx scoffed in dismissal before melting soulfully into his rocky side, pressing her supple womanly curves into his hard masculine angles. “I cannot lie to you, Darling. Much of what is in the garage would be dangerous in the wrong hands. Power and corruption are analogous—famously so…”

Her delicate hand—still glued to Levi’s girthy base—began to tease his thick shaft each time it pulled back, adding a fresh tactile element to his frantic plundering of Kitten’s velveteen depths. Her lacquered nails expertly traced throbbing veins and her fingers occasionally applied gripping pressure at the root to enhance his prurient pleasure.

“...but look at your big strong hands. So masterful in the way you grip our sweet little Kitten’s hips. Steering and guiding her fertile young body, owning your manly passion and gifting it to her in turn.” Alina murmured her ruby lips across his throat and nibbled on his collarbone. “Those are not wrong hands. You are mighty, my Lion. Righteous and just. Powerful—”

“Power is a word the meaning of which we do not understand,” Levi interjected gruffly between low grunts as he yanked the wailing olive-skinned maid’s head back by the hair to pound into her deeper. “It is merely the relation that exists between the expression of someone’s will and the execution of that will by others.”

Alina drew back her stunning face far enough to beam happy surprise up at him. Her beautiful, regal face flushed with pride and lustful longing. “My darling quotes Tolstoy! Any remaining doubts are instantly vanquished. Gone. Kaput. You may take any object you like from my late husband’s collection.”

”Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Kitten jubilantly agreed, arching her back as her small hands scrambled for purchase on the polished table top. “Fuck my naughty little pussy, Master. Teach me to crave the feeling of your huge, hunky dick stretching out my slutty insides!”

“I’ve read a few works of Russian philosophy, Alina.” Levi chortled fondly at his incorrigible lover’s melodramatic reaction as Kitten’s heavy, swinging breasts swept a stack of textbooks onto the kitchen floor. “But I need to know why you’ve had a sudden change of heart concerning the strange shit in the garage? It almost sounds like you want me to use it.”

The question sombered Alina, who buried her blonde head in the crook of his shoulder, even as she continued teasing and pumping his corpulent cock into the babbling Latina’s gaping slit.

“I cannot tell a lie, it is because you changed this poor widow’s heart, my Lion.” She whispered into the crisp white button-up she had laid out for him that morning. It was from someone called Tom Ford and fit his barrel chest as though it were the finest bespoke tailoring. “I fled my homeland and came to America to hide from my past sins, vanish forever and bury that ingenious man’s perilous research in obscurity.”

Salty tears dampened the cotton of Levi’s shirt and he slowed his rampant rutting to look tenderly down at his weeping goddess, waiting patiently for her to voice her truth.

“I told you once that he was a great man, Darling, but not a good one. He took a scared teenage girl off the streets of Vladivostok and used all the fruits of his intensive years of study to change her into the woman you see here today. He was a terrible, wonderful man who made me love him with all my being, and I worshiped him every day for it.”

“Oh, Alina…” Levi began.

“He married me, then made me do horrible things to further his research and secure his high rank within the Experimental Design Bureau. I perpetrated unspeakable crimes at my late husband’s behest and, may god forgive me, thanked him for the chance to do so when he wasn’t busy fucking my wicked mouth as a reward.”

Then she was staring up at Levi, bright emerald eyes swimming with tears as he grew still and wrapped a burly arm around her waist in silent support. Nobody dared breathe a word, or even twitch as Alina poured out the end of her mournful tale.

“When they finally killed him—assassinated my beloved husband—I thought I would go mad and die from a broken heart. Your unworthy Lioness did things she is not proud of in the weeks that followed. I stained my hands and immortal soul with the blood of many men.” She sobbed, jerking those same small hands away from Levi’s body as though she might somehow dirty him too. “But I was also free—as much as I didn’t wish to be—and knew what I needed to do…”

“You came here, to Springfield in the nowhere State of Illinois.” He said quietly, hugging her closer as he soothed the used and abused angel in his embrace. “And brought everything with you… to hide it from the people who killed him?”

“Da, Darling,” Alina nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Those corrupt government officials would have stolen the artifacts and used his life’s work with evil intent. They coveted the power my Master commanded and plotted against him to seize it for their own foul purposes. So I stole all of it away and was prepared to fade into insignificance… until the day you knocked on my door.”

Levi felt like a total cad. Listening to the emotional outpouring of that gorgeous, woeful woman who had endured so much—only to uplift his flagging spirits and raised him from anxiety-ridden unimportance to whatever he was today—with his rock-hard dick still buried in the tight cunt of a cum-hungry bimbo.

“Alina, my Love, I’m sorry for what you suffered. I can’t—urp!” He made to pull out of Kitten, intending to comfort his lover, only to be fixed in place as Alina’s toned arms encircled him like the iron clamps of a bear trap.

She was surprisingly strong. For all his hulking height and muscle mass, Alina held Levi fast as though he were a willful child struggling in a loving parent’s embrace.

“You brought light and music back to this old Widow’s life, Darling. So giving and kind. You took fractured pieces of my broken heart and filled the cracks with something stronger… your selfless love.” Her watering eyes had dried and gone gunmetal gray again, staring wide and unblinking up at Levi. “You were hurting, like I was, and after you resisted the lure of supreme power without even trying, I saw you for what you were always meant to be… a true Lion!”

Alina slid her long smooth leg over his, wrapping her shapely calf around his knee and began grinding her wet womanhood against him, smearing the damp lace of her tiny thong along the hip of his open slacks. Her sculpted arms moved up to his shoulders, fingers entwining behind his thick throat as she leaned back to stare hungrily up at Levi, gnawing savagely on her plump bottom lip.

“I want to give you everything, Darling, simply because you would never ask me for it. Now give Kitten what she wants, she is such a good girl now and deserves your manly blessing. Then take Dolly or me. Take anything you want, my Lion, it’s yours, all yours.”

With her leg-lock on his muscular thigh, Alina began urging him forward into the quietly whimpering maid again. Her painted nails teased the short hairs on the back of his neck as she rolled her luscious hips and stropped his broad shoulders with her enchanting face as though scent marking him like an animal with her flawless cheeks and slick, heavenly cunt.

“All for you, Master, all for you.” Kitten vowed in reverent whispers. “This fertile young womb is yours to fuck and fill with a litter of my own to raise in your honor. Don’t you want me to swell large with your babies, Master? To see my fat titties growing even bigger with gallons of fresh milk just for you?”

“Aaaw~ fuck, that’s so goddamn hot!” Levi rumbled, quickly picking up the pace from where he left off. Plunging his adamantine enormousness into the squealing girl’s gushing snatch. “You better be ready. I’m going to pack that sweet little belly so full of my sticky cum, it might pop!”

“Yes, Master, pleeeease… yes!”

Honestly, the warning was probably unnecessary and too late by half. As the continuous small jets and bursts of his potent emissions had probably dumped over a pint of pearly impregnating seed into the ravenous raven-haired beauty already.

“Do it, my Lion! Claim her, make our Kitten indisputably and irrevocably yours forever.” Alina moaned, pawing at his stubbly jaw and rugged chest like a woman possessed as her perfect pink pussy left moist splotchy kisses on Levi’s loose belt line. “She will be your prize, a trophy to be displayed as living proof of your virile might and unassailable strength. Show the world how truly great you have become!”

An angry vein throbbed on his temple as Levi railed the bucking bimbo maid like a mega-busty chunk of fuck-meat upon his raging rigidity. He hoisted her bubbly tanned ass high into the air as Kitten’s wobbly arms gave out and her drool-covered chin landed with a splat into her expansively inflated cleavage where it was flattened against the polished table top.

“Dios mio~!” She wailed, her trembling legs kicking uselessly in mid-air. “Do it, Master, pump me full of your life-giving seed and make me your personal fucktoy for all time!”

Levi growled, baring his sharp canines and thrashing his tawny mane of hair about as Alina glued her glorious self to his side, pushing and encouraging him in hot breathy gasps of searing, dripping arousal.

He was riding a knife’s edge, wheelbarrow fucking Kitten into the table as though he wanted the break the furniture in twain and drill her spasming cunt into the tiled kitchen floor. Then a soft, cushiony sensation met his rocky underside where it ricocheted in and out of the howling Latina’s clutching, climaxing channel.

“The fuck?”

Leaning back, Levi looked down to see a previously forgotten Dolly kneeling between them, pressing her plush purple lips against the joining of his and Kitten’s spouting nethers.

Leopard print leggings were painted onto the candy-haired Asian fuckdoll’s trim butt and thighs, her pale rubbery tits propped far out in front of her by a neon pink demi bra covered in a long-sleeved fishnet top that was warped into new shapes by the extreme contours of her prodigious chest.

“Mmmmlurp~!” The vapid Korean bimbo gurgled her enjoyment, clearly trembling in carnal pleasure as the froth of Kitten’s cum-stuffed cunt coated her puckered mouthpussy and ran across her peachy upturned cheeks. “Mwore, Mwaster… Dolly wants mwore…“

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Levi roared, jacking the ecstatic maid on his goliath cock as his gorgeous Alina preened and writhed against his side, showering him in her intoxicating affection.

“That’s right, nothing can stop you, Darling. No man will dare stand against you. No woman would ever deny you again. That Britney girl will fall to her knees before you…” She panted into his ear. Hot breathy words that resonated deep inside Levi’s churning psyche. “No more fear, no more holding back. You are a true Lion now, MY Lion! A fearsome hunter and defender of your pride. Let the cruel, uncaring world know that you will not cower like a frightened rabbit any longer. Show them your fangs and claws!”

“Yes, Master, yesyesyesyesyes~!”

“Mwore, Mwaster, mwore…”

Levi was being bombarded on every sensual level.

The taste of Alina’s ruby lips against his as she smashed her mouth into him with a single-minded passion. The feel of their supple, willing bodies and Kitten’s squeezing tightness wrapped around his surging shaft. The smell of hot sex and sweet feminine perfume pervaded his nostrils. The sight of three utterly devoted and porn-worthy knock-outs fawning over his tall, powerful, completely ripped physique. The sordid sounds of them pleading for him to cum and spray them—inside and out—with his boundless baby-making batter…

“Oh fuck, take it… take it all!” Levi bellowed, throwing his shaggy skull back as a jolt of searing pleasure lanced through him and he erupted explosively directly into Kitten’s thirsty womb.

“Yaasssss~!”

Pulse after heavy pulse of his molten seed burst from him like a celebratory cannonade. Levi’s head spun as he emptied his overactive balls into the shrilling lust-crazed Latina impaled upon his belly-bulging turgidity, until his ludicrous load ruptured the skin-tight seal of her stretched pussy lips and a river of their mixed juices cascaded over Dolly’s pretty, blissed-out face.

“Glmmnnff~!’

The candy-haired plaything glorped and gargled her sticky prize—visibly quaking in her own orgasmic throes—as the erotic excess dripped down in thick globules and pearly ropes into her shiny mountainous cleavage. Her glazed almond eyes crossed, her slobbering jaw sagged, and her little pink tongue lolled as the crotch of her sheer animal-print leggings slickened with a wet sheen from her own euphoric expulsions.

“That’s it, that’s it…” Alina crooned lovingly up at Levi. Her brilliant gunmetal gray eyes monopolizing his attention as she ground her achingly alluring, lingerie-clad figure against him. “Take what is yours. Take it all and never look back, my darling Lion.”

Finally finished and momentarily sated, Levi felt mildly woozy from the powerful sense of being utterly drained. Lowering a distinctly happier and fuller looking Kitten back down to the tabletop, he gave her big round ass a friendly swat and let his impressive length slide out of her puffy folds. Her ravaged slit gaped and a torrent of his steamy spunk started to bubble out before Dolly scrambled up to attach her purple face-pillows to the gushing source.

“Thank you for claiming my Kitten, Darling. She will be so much happier now knowing you have marked her with your virile seed.” Alina cooed, immediately running her manicured nails down his chest to languorously wrap her clever fingers around his nectar-soaked hardness. “You are going to be such a fierce protector and wonderful provider.”

His cock never really went limp anymore and the bewitching Goddess’s soft grip couldn’t entirely encircle the meaty width as she began to leisurely pump Levi again. She performed the action beautifully—just like everything else she did—at an easy, unhurried pace that seemed to say she could cheerfully stroke him for days on end without cease.

Levi didn’t doubt that she could, and would—without hesitation or reservation—if he asked it of his gorgeous Lioness. He smiled lovingly at her, then quirked a curious eyebrow as he looked down her lacy top.

“You are leaking, my Lioness.” He noted critically, staring at the decidedly dampened neckline of her tiny negligee. Creamy beads of white lactate formed and dripped through the thin lacy fabric. “Is that for me too?”

“All for you,” Alina moaned in avid anticipation, drawing back her slim shoulders and thrusting her perfect milky mounds up at him like twin offerings. “Every part of me is yours, Darling!”

Hooking a muscular arm around her lissome waist, Levi tugged his voluptuous lover closer, lowering his head to tear the slinky sleepwear away with his sharp teeth. Her perfect chest bounced bountifully free and her pointed pink nipples glistened with dribbling lines of rich milk.

Levi growled in satisfaction when his lips closed around a rosebud tip and the familiar flavor of vanilla flooded his taste buds. Sweet as a certain Russian dessert. Soft hands threaded through his dense russet mane and pulled him tighter into her deliciously flowing bosom.

“Drink deep, my mighty Lion.” Alina purred, intense desire heating her exotically accented words as he began to glut himself on her heavenly cream. “Afterwards I will show you some of the more interesting toys in the garage, and you can tell me how best to deal with that black-hearted harpy you call Britney.”

Then, soft as the beating of butterflies wings, she began to sing for Levi in a soulful coloratura soprano and somewhere in the far off distance, the ghost of an orchestra began to play…

Britney adjusted the rear vision mirror to check her makeup as she pulled into her personal parking space directly beside the University of Illinois-Springfield Athletics Center.

Was it unusual for a freshman student to have allocated parking on a college campus where most of the underpaid teaching staff had to squabble over the limited availability?

Certainly.

Were any of those dead-end faculty members up-and-coming cheers squad starlets with looks so killer they were practically genocidal and a horde of online devotees rabid enough to make the school board sweat?

Certainly not.

Her parking space was in the cool shade of a stately oak tree and was only a few feet from the side entrance to the building. It even had her name on a tin sign stuck in the adjacent lawn onto which one of Britney’s many, many admirers had doodled little love hearts in red marker.

But that was how it went for someone so beautifully young, achingly pretty and conspicuously superior to everyone else. Life just gave Britney whatever she wanted. It wasn’t entitlement… it was simply the natural way of the world.

Take her car for example.

It was a sporty little Audi coupe with a custom leather interior and a fold back soft top. Britney hadn’t asked for it per se, all she did was post a single instagram selfie posed beside the luxury vehicle (#socute #dreamcar #instagood) looking phenomenal in a sexy scarlet wrap-around club dress and racy sling-back heels, right there in the car yard.

How was Britney to know her army of fanatical TikTok followers and dedicated simps would immediately launch, then nearly crash, a GoFundMe page to deliver the five-figure purchase—gift wrapped in a giant blue ribbon—to her uptown address practically overnight? These things just happened all on their own.

The lighting hadn’t even been that good in the picture and Britney had hardly done anything with her hair…

Besides, the spectacularly stunning eighteen year-old cheerleader was already thinking about trading up for a newer model in a different color.

Honestly, sky magenta and gold rims were so five months ago.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like she discouraged the attention either. It felt good to be adored. To know through a numerically tangible system of ‘likes’ and ‘subscribes’ that she was quantifiably better than those around her, in both her local reality and the wider digital world.

With a minimum of effort and the latest release of high-res smartphone photo technology—paid for by someone other than herself—Britney had launched a skyrocketing social media profile that the yokels of this provincial Midwestern town couldn’t compete with or fully comprehend.

Like, how was any restaurant going to dare charge her for a meal when the threat of having their google rating sunk like the Bismark into the cold waters of one-star obscurity was only a few keystrokes away? Countless blue collar fanboys would review-bomb a local Springfield eatery they couldn’t ever hope to visit on their factory drone incomes, praying that she might grace their collective working-class asses with a throwaway wink.

Britney hadn’t paid to eat out in months

Not that she would eat half the carb-loaded crap most of the food joints in Springfield served anyway. Her viciously honed, ultra-fit body was a temple. An idol for everyone to worship at, though sometimes she still liked to order a banquet for four then stroll away under the impotent stares of the gawping servers once the food was brought out.

Just for kicks. A little bit of sport to remind everyone of their place below her on the ladder rungs of society.

Slipping out of the car, Britney donned her oversized Gucci couture sunglasses, tossed her wavy honey-blonde hair over a shoulder and took a moment to admire herself one more time in the driver’s side mirror. She was gorgeous, naturally, but her brilliance lay in knowing how to present her world-stage beauty to best nail-biting effect.

Today she had gone for preppy college coed.

A slim-fitting ruched blouse of purest white hugged her trim torso, cinched in about her lean waist and toned stomach but unbuttoned at the throat enough to hint at the firm swell of her perky young breasts. Her latest miniskirt—and Britney had quite the collection—was a cashmere wonder of scarlet plaid pleats that swished around the tops of her sculpted thighs and left her long high-kicking legs out to soak in the warm springtime sun.

The three-inch heels of her black buckle-up ankle boots—Britney loved ankle boots, knee high boots were for fashion-blind clods who didn’t have perfectly shaped calves and tight rears—clicked on the pavement as she paused a moment to let the world drink in her youthful magnificence then looked about in confusion…

The campus was quiet. Far too quiet for the midmorning hour.

She had been called in for a last minute exhibition of the UIS Prairie Stars by Coach Meadows. The refreshingly cut-throat championship-winning trainer had sounded unusually relaxed when she spoke to Britney over an hour earlier, waffling on about the importance of making it to the nationals and being oddly vague on any details concerning today’s impromptu meet-up.

…and that was after Britney had been puzzling over the weird staticy audio message Kimmy had sent her the day before which sounded like a poorly recorded porno followed by beautiful, if badly muffled, singing.

Though at least two of the dirty-talking voices did sound faintly familiar. Even if she couldn’t put her proverbial finger on where she recognized them from. Kimmy had been no help there either. All Britney’s responding texts went unanswered and her calls went straight to voicemail.

Whatever, she could lecture the prissy Korean prude later on proper Bad Bitch phone etiquette after finding out where the fuck everyone had gone.

Peering over the designer rims of her shades, Britney frowned and looked around.

It was after nine in the morning and the college grounds should have been abustle with students going to class, loafing off or generally doing whatever it was plebs did when they weren’t sending longing glances in her direction.

Instead, the stone sitting benches were vacant, the communal outdoor spaces were empty and there was nary a sign of a hacky sack circle to be seen anywhere. A cool breeze sent a tumble of dry leaves and several littered pamphlets down the cement sidewalk to swirl about Britney’s booted feet.

Tisking in irritation she stooped to pull away a scrap of yellow paper that clung to her shin and hesitated as the print attracted her attention. The font was bold, almost physically so, and the bordering was a swirling pattern of cross-hatched lines that seemed to loop constantly into themselves like an optical illusion.

At the head of the text was an intricate spiral motif that drew Britney’s eye like a bee to honey. It was shadowed in such a way that made it appear to sit just above the paper itself, twisting as her vision blurred in and out of focus trying to make it out in detail.

The springtime sun almost felt too hot all of a sudden and the breeze too chilly. The blonde freshman cheerleader shivered as she tore her watering gaze away from the spiral to read the inky lines of capitalized text below it:

UIS SCHOOL SPIRIT RALLY

09:30AM TODAY

IN THE RECREATION AND ATHLETICS CENTER

SPECIAL EVENT FEATURING THE UIS PRAIRIE STARS AND SPECIAL GUESTS

YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS IT!!

Those last six printed words seemed to leap out at Britney with far more gravitas than the default Times New Roman font should have ever been able to convey. Like a front page headline after a state of national emergency was declared or the death of one of her favorite Hollywood A-listers.

You don’t want to miss it…

Prairie Stars, that meant her! The “and special guests” part was mysterious and unhelpful. But with less than thirty minutes until showtime Britney needed to hustle and get her game face on.

People would be filling the stands already and it wouldn’t do her bid for cheer captain next year any favors to be seen arriving late.

With that in mind Britney started to briskly walk, then broke into a jog to reach the back entrance to the women’s locker room.

The back entrance to the locker room was actually a heavy set of metal fire doors.

They weren’t supposed to be opened from the outside and a sign above the doorway warned that an alarm would sound in the event it happened. That may well have been the case when the seventy-two thousand square foot sporting arena was first built in the late naughties, but since the all-female cheer squad had claimed the women’s locker rooms as their eminent domain, certain changes had been necessitated.

Important safety and security concerns had been bypassed, simply so the members—each of them exclusively young, stunningly attractive and superbly fit—had a discreet means of egress to and from their private clubhouse.

Britney heaved her way through those same doors, prepared to snap at anyone—short of Coach Meadows or the soon to be deposed Cheer Captain Ellory—who dared to shoot her a dirty look or snide remark.

Those were her personal prerogative after all.

But the changing room was surprisingly still, and worryingly underpopulated by the chattering forms of sixteen college-aged coeds getting ready in the woefully underutilized space designed to accommodate twenty times their number.

The deliberate display of wastefulness just added to the cheer squad’s mystique and social stature. A sign of sinful excess that could be flaunted in the faces of the other women’s intercollegiate sports teams who had to undress in the more public campus restrooms, or worse, in their shitbox cars.

That little reminder would usually buoy up Britney’s anxious spirits and fortify the impenetrable armor of her haughty demeanor but she didn’t have time to indulge in petty spite today. If her squad mates weren’t there then they must have taken to the stage without her.

Unacceptable. Inauspicious! She didn’t want to miss it…

Seething like an angry thundercloud through the rows and banks of boringly beige storage and timber benches, Britney rounded a corner only to stop dead in her stalking steps at the sight of two feminine figures struggling together on the tiled floor right in front of an open locker.

Tessa and Farah, her two newest squad-mates and minions, appeared to be… wrestling in a large slick puddle of what looked like vanilla pudding. Smelled like it too, if Britney’s twitching nose didn’t deceive her.

“What the…”

Her ocean-blue eyes trailed up the thick lines of white gloop coating the banks of lockers to the source of the pungent mess.

It was her very own locker.

The simple fastening bolt had been bent to a useless angle and the thin aluminum door was buckled where it had been wrenched open to spill the creamy slime everywhere. The interior and her skimpy cheer uniform oozed as though the boxy space had been piped full to the brim with the foul stuff. The rage and dismay Britney felt at the horrifying discovery was only partially eclipsed by the wet squelching noises of the two barely-legal freshmen rolling around at her feet.

“Get away! Is mine…”

“Hey, I got the door open, back off!”

The mocha-skinned knockout and the athletic brunette snarled insults at each other as they fought over a sodden white sneaker—Britney’s sneaker—filled with the pearly gunk. They were only dressed in plain cotton bras and panties, as though they had been distracted mid-wardrobe change, and their slim young bodies glistened wetly like professional jello wrestlers.

“Don’t be such a greedy bitch, Tara!”

“You’re the one oinking like a piggy, slut!”

Britney could only watch in spell-bound confusion as Farah yanked the dripping footwear free of the other girl’s grasp with a victorious cry, then buried her pretty face into it with a loud series of happy slurps.

“Fuck!” Tara swore, her carob-coloured curls were a soaked matted tangle that stuck to her heated cheeks like grade school glue. “Gimme that damn skirt—”

Then she snatched Britney’s drenched blue and white cheer uniform off the hanger, held it in both hands over her upturned face and twisted it like a wet towel. Beads and strings of the vanilla goo were wrung out of the soiled spandex, splattering down onto Tara’s outstretched tongue and drooling chin. One especially fat glob pasted a fluttering eyelid shut before the hungrily moaning coed began to suck the remaining pearly fluid out of the knotted-up skirt.

“Mmmwah! Tastes sooo~ good!” Farah slurred around her sloppy mouthful, her dusky lips and skin glossy with smeared cream.

“Glooormph~!” Tara agreed, much of her pungent prize running down her gulping neck to gather in the valley of her swollen tanned cleavage.

Blinking rapidly, Britney shook her head to clear the cloyingly sweet clouds from her mind. Since when did little Tara have cleavage? The girl was short and lean with a gymnasts lithe build, lacking an ounce of excess weight and—more notably—was flat as an ironing board. It made her the perfect candidate for basket tosses and one-armed lifts.

Farah was much the same. Britney had previously declared them the founding co-chairs of the itty-bitty committee during the standard hazing initiations that inducted them as full-blooded members of the UIS Prairie Stars.

She had been quite proud of that cutting quip at the time. All the rookies had to strip in the showers under the jeers and catcalls of the rest of the squad. An indignity Britney herself had been spared by means of implied threats and not-inconsiderable financial gratuities. All paid from the deep wallets of her countless online cucks of course.

What could they have possibly found to mock her nakedness anyway?

Her perfect tits, taut figure and tight butt? Ridiculous. Unnecessary.

Only now, midnight-haired Farah was bent double at hips that had grown thick with new muscle with her visibly rounder ass waggling high in the air as she glutted herself from Britney’s shoe. She was even forming that mouthwatering crease at the summit of her fleshier thighs where her smooth pelvis kissed the tips of her meaty quads, kneeling in the stinky spill and gorging herself on vanilla-scented goop.

Tara was similarly changed, except where the Bedouin beauty sported fresh childbearing hips and an ass that would put the ripest Georgia peach to shame… the trim brunette was all inflating tits.

They bubbled and bulged from within her small training bra, rising like two oven baked buns from the pinching cups of her ill-equipped chest support. Underboob, sideboob and pushed-up cleavage burst from every side of the overwrought undergarment—warping and distending around the biting straps—as the otherwise petite brunette started licking up the sweet-smelling white muck off the locker room floor. Her chin was basically couched in her expansive tits as she tongue-bathed the tiles clean.

This was all wrong. Something had gone terribly awry and Britney wondered if she had strayed into some bizarro world alternate universe. A twisted twilight zone episode where good, compliant waifs guzzled tasty-looking slop off the ground and saliva flooded her own pretty mouth at the sweet temptation of sampling the flavor.

Just one small lick would be enough…

“No… no…” Britney groaned, feeling a strong magnetic pull towards the two girls and whatever the scrumptious-smelling hell they were wallowing in. Her booted feet stumbled forward on their own volition. “I—I can’t, not me. Not like this...”

There was something powerful at work here. An abstract, indescribable weight pushed down on her thoughts and senses with all the sinister appeal of an addictive drug. If she accepted it, the immediate rewards would be exquisite, ecstatic bliss and Britney would be lost to it forever.

Deep down she recognized this. Didn’t she peddle her own enchanting good-looks in a vaguely similar fashion. Trapping and ensnaring weak-willed losers in her complex web of false promises and erotic insinuation?

“Not me, never.” She groaned, forcing her disobedient feet to take a single, painful step back. “Never me.”

Then the college PA System hummed to life and an exotically accented feminine voice purred through the campus-wide speakers. It sounded musically melodic, full of eastern european soft vowels and had a husky seductive quality.

“Welcome prestigious faculty members and honored students.” The faceless but undoubtedly gorgeous woman—judging by the rich timbre of her voice—announced. “We thank you all for attending the UIS School Spirit Rally today. The celebration will commence with a performance from your very own Prairie Stars Cheer Squad. Please come on me in giving them a rousing round of applause…”

Britney tore herself away from Tara and Farah who had begun to lick and caress each other’s newly bodacious bodies, slurping the scrummy sludge off their growing curves with increasingly amorous moans of gastronomic gusto.

She didn’t want to miss it!

Still clutching the forgotten scrap of yellow paper in hand and dismissing any thoughts of getting changed into her ruined uniform, Britney fled for the large doors leading out to the main arena, her booted heels skidding precariously on the tiled floor as she went.

Britney crashed through the double doors and immediately tripped over a coiling trail of power cables running the length of the arena’s back wall. Her golden hair flew and her little plait skirt fluttered as she toppled ass over tea kettle onto the polished wooden floor.

“Who the fuck left those there?” She groaned, pulling herself up onto hands and knees, “If I get a bruise, some asshole is going to pay!”

In a way she was grateful. The pain and consequent anger took precedent over the anxiety and confusion that had so recently pervaded her hard outer shell. Britney was all sugar and spice and everything nice on the surface, strategically so, but the moment someone dared cross her… the claws were always ready to come out.

“Are you okay, Miss?”

Schooling her expression to something approaching neutral, Britney looked up into a massive pair of tanned boobs stuffed into a slutty french maids costume—of all things. A smokey pair of concerned eyes under a thick head of voluminous midnight hair was just visible peeking over the circumference of the jutting hemispheres that otherwise obscured the rest of the young woman’s face.

She was carrying a metallic briefcase in each hand, sealed tight with heavy locks like something out of a cold-war era spy movie and was wearing the tallest pair of heeled mary-janes Britney had ever seen.

There had to be five goddamn inches on the ridiculous footwear.

Sensing a soft squishy target for her boiling ire, Britney lashed out.

“Do I look fucking okay, bitch? Did all the nutrients meant for your brain growing up drain into your tits instead? Don’t just stand there, help me up!”

The worry in the dark eyes watching her cooled considerably and the chesty tramp seemed to consider for a moment before carefully placing her burdens on the ground and quickly hoisting Britney to her feet by her shoulders.

The rapid motion set the olive-skinned girl’s immense bosoms to bouncing about in braless fashion.

“You really should speak nicer to people. You never know who you might be talking to,” She said, straightening the short sleeves of Britney’s white blouse. “The old me might have taken exception to your tone but she’s gone now and Mistress says anger is a wasted emotion.”

The cheer squad starlet didn’t have time to listen to insipid drivel and was turning back towards the basketball courts where rallies were usually held, when her left ankle wobbled and a shot of pain lanced up her entire leg.

“Shit! Not now…” She snarled, latching onto the other girl for abrupt support. The high tempo dance music of the Prairie Stars signature cheer routine had started blaring through the stadium speakers and she could see the corner of audience-packed stands only a few dozen feet away. “I need to get out there, I’m on the squad! I don’t—”

“—want to miss it, I know. It’s going to be amazing.” The curvaceous Latina finished for her as though reading her thoughts, looping an arm around Britney’s narrow waist to hold her upright. “But your ankle is twisted pretty badly, I can see that clear as day and I should know. Don’t worry though, Britney, I know just the person to fix you properly.”

The use of her name snapped Britney’s attention back to the strange girl’s serenely smiling face as she tried to place when they might have met before. She had an excellent head for names—if only because it was good business to remember who your friends and enemies were—but the far reaching nature of her online media presence had led to mostly friendly run-ins with total strangers before.

It was simply another perk of the game but it paid to be careful. Some fans got… pushy and had to be reminded of their place with a publicly humiliating tongue lashing. It rarely happened twice.

“Have we met?” She asked, wincing and limping as they moved away from the packed stands filled with curiously quiet spectators. “You seem familiar but I can’t quite place where I know you from. Are you related to my friend Carmen?”

“You may call me Kitten and yes, I am distantly related to that awful young hellion you used to know. Mind your step now, we don’t have far to go, Britney. Soon you’ll be better, you will see.”

For some reason, those soft words of reassurance only sparked off warning flares in Britney’s sharp social instincts. She feebly attempted to pull away from the so-called Kitten but her injured foot couldn’t hold much weight and the surprisingly strong grip around her waist pulled her further into the shadowy wings of the large sport arena.

“Dolly… no! You are supposed to be getting everything ready for the main event!”

Britney blinked spots of pain out of her vision as she hung from Kitten’s arm and stared at a strange scene that just added to the unsettling weirdness of her day so far.

They were in the athletic center’s AV control room. Britney had never been here herself but knew the computer nerds needed somewhere to do their necessary work of teeing up the tunes for the cheer squad’s routines. Switch-covered sound boards and consoles with blinking digital displays lined the the four walls of the small room as Jock Jam’s “Y’all ready for this” blasted through heavy bass speakers.

…and squatting on the floor moaning happily with her plush purple lips pressed to one such throbbing speaker was the most outrageous Asian barbie bimbo Britney had ever seen.

“Dolly is sowwy Kitten.” The startled slut lisped over the pounding beat. Her fat drooling lips were pumped fuller than a suckerfish on collagen injections. “Got howny and distwacted…”

Her hair was long, straight and almost white blonde, shot through with streaks of bubblegum pink where it hung thickly down past her slim waist. Dolly was short and trim, almost petite until it came to her monstrous tits which looked like they had been attached to an industrial air pump and grossly overinflated.

Despite that, they shone like polished ivory under the harsh fluorescent lighting, bubbling up out of the low spaghetti neckline of an audaciously small tiger print micro-dress with so many revealing cut-outs she would have been spilling out of the undersized clubwear, if not for the black fishnet bodysuit holding everything together beneath.

“That’s no excuse,” Kitten scolded, dropping Britney none-too-gently into one of the two desk chairs. “This is why Master only uses you as his personal mouth-whore cumdumpster and hasn’t fucked you properly yet.”

“Nooo~ don’t say that, Dolly will be good! She pwomises…”

“Then act like you want it! Prove to him that you’re more than a cum-hungry cocksleeve and actually be useful. Then you might be worthy enough to ride his incredible Lion dick every day like Mistress and I.”

Britney gaped as she tried to follow the frankly unbelievable exchange. Dolly looked like she had been physically slapped and on the verge of tears, while Kitten growled and stalked around the cramped space flicking switches and adjusting different incomprehensible settings on the complicated sound equipment.

Through it all the young social media diva couldn’t shake the horrible feeling she knew these two lusty lunatics from somewhere. Their voices, if not their appearances, were dreadfully familiar…

“Um, my ankle?” Britney ventured, more timidly than she would have liked but the growing heat and tension in the room was oppressive. “You said someone could fix—”

“At least you remembered the record player.” Kitten hissed down at the despondent Dolly—who was sucking petulantly on her thumb and pulling at a pointed, barely concealed nipple with ass-wriggling excitement. “Seems like you got that much right.”

“Mmmhmm!” The peppermint-haired bimbo nodded in avid agreement, clearly appeased by the back-handed recognition.

Britney craned her neck to see the curvy Latina maid arranging an old-timey gramophone complete with a conical brass horn beside a desk-mounted microphone.

It looked antique in design but lacked any signs of the wear and tear of age. Where there might once have been a crank handle was a black plastic box with colorful wires looping up to the tone arm and needle. Otherwise a small toggle switch in the upward ‘off’ position was the only other modernizing feature.

With reverence, Kitten blew the dust off an ancient record sleeve then gently slid out the vinyl disk to rest upon the turntable. Nodding in appreciation, the raven-haired maid turned back to Britney, reaching under her skirts to tear free a length of her layered petticoats.

“You’re both lucky I’m Mistress’ good girl now.” She muttered, bending at the waist and exposing acres of swaying tanned cleavage as she began to wrap the blonde cheerleader’s ankle tightly. “This is gossamer not gauze but it will have to do for now. You’re wanted out there for the main attraction.”

Britney hardly registered the grumbled words as she stared at the many monitors showing video feeds of the sporting arena. The Prairie Stars were putting on a good show—flipping and spinning—shaking their fluffy pom poms, happy tits and cheeky asses for the home crowd.

But why were they doing it all topless?

“Yes…” She said in a confused daze. “I don’t want to miss it.”