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“The girls are throwing a very steamy pajama party tonight 💕 Makeup, trying on tiny lingerie, lingering touches and hungry looks. Things are definitely gonna get wet and loud.”
A computer, a phone, and a glass of lemon water, it's official, I can work from anywhere, we'll avoid video conferences so as not to make the other participants jealous 😜
For now, the outside temperature is still a bit chilly, but it should become more pleasant in 2 or 3 hours.
CW: brainwashing, corruption, bimbofication, corporate shill, dom mom, sub daughter, tangential incest, femdom, femsub,
Hi hi. If you get the reference... Yay~
If you liked this story please consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi
Enjoy 🩷
Lara loved the shampoo.
That thought drifted lazily through her mind as steaming water cascaded over her body, filling the shower with warmth and clouds of fragrant vapor. Her fingers worked automatically through her soaked hair, rubbing the thick pink shampoo into a rich bubbling foam that crackled softly around her ears.
Another giggle slipped from her lips. The sound barely surprised her anymore. The shampoo always made her giggle.
Tiny pops burst against her scalp as she massaged the lather deeper, and each one sent little tingles dancing pleasantly through her head. They skipped through her thoughts in dizzy circles, scattering concentration apart before she could hold onto it for long.
Lara swayed lightly on the balls of her feet.
'Warm. Floaty. Happy.'
The words drifted through her mind slowly, disconnected and soft around the edges.
She giggled again.
The sound echoed brightly against the shower walls while the foam slid between her fingers in thick glossy waves. The shampoo smelled sweet, too sweet and artificial to be healthy. But Lara found herself inhaling deeply anyway, wanting more of the scent filling her lungs.
The tingles deepened. Thoughts tumbled over each other clumsily now.
She vaguely remembered buying the shampoo a few days ago. Or maybe someone recommended it to her. The memory slipped away before she could grasp it fully, dissolving beneath another pulse of warm dizziness spreading behind her eyes.
It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered much right now except the bubbles and the heat and the delicious softness filling her head.
Lara bounced lightly in place, another stream of laughter escaping her.
"So bubbly," she murmured dreamily.
The pink foam slid down her neck in slow trails. She shivered happily.
For a brief moment, somewhere deep underneath the haze, a tiny flicker of unease surfaced.
'This wasn't normal.'
The thought appeared weakly.
The shampoo felt strange. The dizziness felt strange. The way her thoughts seemed to soften and slide away one after another: Pop.
Another bubble burst near her ear. The concern vanished instantly.
Still smiling vacantly, she tilted her head back beneath the spray and began rinsing the foam away. Pink suds streamed through her hair and over her skin in twisting ribbons, slipping down her shoulders and chest before spiraling toward the drain.
And with every passing second, more thoughts seemed to wash away with them. Responsibilities, worries and questions; each one loosened and dissolved beneath the hot water. Lara's eyelids fluttered heavily. A soft phrase surfaced somewhere inside her mind.
'Lather.'
Her hands moved automatically through her hair.
'Rinse.'
The remaining foam disappeared down the drain.
'Obey.'
A deep warmth spread through her chest.
Lara smiled wider.
The words didn't frighten her.
They fit neatly into the dizzy softness inside her head, settling there like something familiar she had always known but only just remembered.
She leaned against the shower wall with another breathless giggle while water continued pouring over her body.
Thoughts drifted slower now.
And as the last traces of pink bubbles vanished into the drain below, Lara found herself unable to remember why she had ever wanted to hold onto them so tightly in the first place.
Giggling and bouncing she stepped out of the shower. Droplets of water pearled on her skin and dripped from her nipples and labia.
"Oh, you look wonderful, Lara. The shampoo does wonders, doesn't it?"
Lara looked at origin of the voice. Her mother stood in a leather corset and skirt combo in the doorframe, her big, fake tits straining against the tight leather. She had her hair up in a bun and her lips were bloodred and full, smeared with crimson red lipstick. She smiled seductively at her daughter, her eyes glinting with a knowing look.
"Yes," Lara said with a dreamy smile, "I love it." She shuddered with pleasure and ran a hand over her wet, smooth body, her fingers coming to rest at her pouty pussy.
"It's even better than I expected. Madame Aphrodite just knows how to turn even the most prude into a fucking slut," Lara's mom said, her voice oozing with satisfaction as she admired her daughter's transformation. "You look like such a perfect bimbo, ready to please."
Lara couldn't help but giggle even more. "Lather. Rinse. Obey." She felt so bubbly inside.
"Good girl, that's it, you know exactly what you have to do," Lara's mom said with a pleased smile.
"Like, ya. Like obey Madame Aphrodite and like go online and like totally tell my peops how gooood her shampoo is," she said, her voice sounding airheaded and girly. "And I'll totally like make them buy the pink stuff. They'll love it, they'll be all 'I love it, it's sooo gooood.'"
"That's a good girl," Lara's mom said, pleased. Slapping her daughter's butt hard she winked. "Now, go on. You have to get into something sexy and slutty for your stream. Something nice that makes your boobs look good. I bet you're gonna advertise Madame Aphrodite's products like a whore."
"Totally!" Lara squeaked, her voice girlish and excited. She giggled, bouncing slightly, causing her tits to jiggle. "I'll totally do that." With that, she skipped out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her on the tiled floor.
Her mom's words echoed in her mind, filling her with anticipation and excitement. She knew exactly which outfit she would wear for the stream: the pink babydoll Madame Aphrodite had sent her, with the lace and ribbons, and the matching thong panties. Her heart raced as she imagined the way the fabric would cling to her body, accentuating her curves and making her tits look extra nice. She could almost feel the silky material sliding against her skin, and the way it would highlight her big boobs, making them appear even more impressive.
Lara couldn't wait to get dressed, and she couldn't wait to share the magic of Madame Aphrodite's products with her viewers. She knew they would love them.
Especially after they did as the slogan said.
'Lather. Rinse. Obey.' Lara giggled. She felt so bubbly. And itchy. And happy.
***
Lara stood before her mirror, examining herself with satisfaction. She twirled and spun, the fabric of the babydoll flowing gracefully with her movements. The lace trim fluttered delicately against her curves, accentuating the contours of her figure in all the right places. Her nipples peeked through the sheer fabric teasingly, and her hips swayed enticingly as she moved.
She felt sexy in this ensemble. It was perfect for her upcoming stream, where she planned to show off Madame Aphrodite's incredible products. Just like her slutty dom mom told her.
Lara's gaze drifted to her breasts, now on full display. She cupped one of them gently, marveling at its softness. It felt like a warm pillow under her fingers as she kneaded it lovingly. A small moan escaped her lips as pleasure coursed through her body from the gentle ministrations of her own hand.
She knew her followers would be mesmerized by the sight of her in this outfit, especially with her breasts looking so tantalizing. With each step towards the desk where her camera was set up, she could feel the babydoll shift subtly against her skin. The silky fabric whispered promises of submission.
As she sat down in front of her computer, she glanced at the screen, checking the feed. She could see the number of viewers steadily growing, anticipation palpable in their chat messages.
She smiled to herself, ready to share her experience with Madame Aphrodite's products, the ones she was going to promote today, just like a good little bimbo shill. She couldn't remember the hours her mother had programmed her pliable mind over the week, but her subconscious was eager to obey. Her eyes flicked to the pink products neatly arranged on the desk next to her camera, each bottle promising pleasure and obedience in equal measure.
She leaned forward, her breasts straining against the delicate fabric of her dress, the camera capturing every detail.
"Like, hiii guys. Like I totes know it's beed awhile. But like I totally had to change some stuff," she said, batting her eyelashes at her followers, who eagerly typed messages of encouragement.
Lara giggled and her eyes lit up with excitement as she continued. "So, I'm, like, totally into this new shampoo called 'Bimbo Brain Wash' by this like totally cool corp called Aphrodite Incorporated. And it's, like, so amazing. It makes my hair so shiny and soft, and, like, it's totally pink and sparkly too!"
Lara held up a bottle of the shampoo to show the audience, revealing the bright pink liquid inside.
"It's like a must. Like when you lather it up in the shower it feels so nice, and then you just have to rinse it all out, right?" Lara's voice was breathless with excitement, and her cheeks flushed as she talked. She ran a hand through her hair, showing off how silky smooth it had become.
"Like it washes your brain super good," she giggled. "Like it makes you totally super fine and sexy and stuff."
The chat lit up with messages of praise and curiosity, eager to learn more about this new product.
"But, like, that's not even the best part!" Lara said, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Like it even has a special instruction. Lather. Rinse. Obey." Her voice lowered conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret with her followers. "And, like, when you obey it totally feels like the best thing in the world." A visible shudder ran through her body, and her eyes grew wide and dreamy. The chat messages became increasingly excited and intrigued.
"Like obey Madame Aphrodite and become a slut." Her voice grew softer and breathier, as if the mere thought aroused her.
Lara ran her fingers through her hair again, her eyes half-closing with pleasure.
"It's like a total rush, you know? Like a super duper rush. It's like your whole brain is just, like, floating and you don't have to worry about anything anymore. And your body feels sooooo good. It's like, the most amazing feeling ever." Lara shuddered visibly, and the chat filled with questions about where they could get this shampoo, eager to experience its effects for themselves.
"So like if you wanna try it out too, just like visit the site in the um description thingy," Lara continued. "And if you use the like, um, discount code LARA_OB you get like a like 25 percent discount or something."
Lara smiled, satisfied that she had done her part in spreading the word about Madame Aphrodite's shampoo. The chat continued to buzz with excitement, and she couldn't help but feel proud of herself for being able to share this amazing product with her followers. After all, they deserved to experience the same bliss and pleasure she had discovered.
"Now, I'm like super sugar sure you all see what I'm like wearing. It's a pink babydoll with lace trim that makes my boobs like super cute," she said, striking a seductive pose for the camera.
"And I have the matching pink thong panties on. And like, totes check out my tits and my big bubble butt." She playfully jiggled her breasts, the pink babydoll doing little to contain their movement.
"I mean, look at how hot and slutty I am, right?"
Lara turned around and bent over, showing off her curvaceous bottom and thong-clad buttocks to her viewers.
"It's like Madame Aphrodite's special sexy slut wear, you know?"
Lara's words dripped with desire, and she winked at her followers as she straightened back up.
"I mean, just like, imagine what you would do with these tits if you had them," Lara said, her fingers tracing along the neckline of her babydoll teasingly. She grabbed another bottle from the desk. "With Bimbo Body Wash, by Aphrodite Incorporated, you can have a late growth spurt too!" Lara grinned, holding up the pink bottle with the Aphrodite Incorporated logo on it. "Like it's the most amazing thing ever, like you don't even have to diet or work out. It's like magic, right?" Her voice was breathy and excited as she continued to promote the products. She lifted one breast in her hand, feeling the weight of it and the way her fingers pressed into the soft flesh. "Like I know I look totally hot now. Like look at my huge boobs, my slim waist and my round butt, like a perfect hourglass." Her other hand went to her hip, sliding up her waist to trace the curve of her hips, then back down to cup her butt, which filled out her thong nicely. She jiggled her breasts, bouncing and giggling. "It's like a dream come true. Like you don't have to be all self conscious about your body or like worry about what other people think, you can just enjoy it. And totally show it off like a slut." Lara's fingers slipped beneath the hem of her panties, teasing the edge of her pussy. "And like, when you touch yourself, it's like, so much more sensitive, like, everything feels amazing." She giggled again, her cheeks flushing pink. "Like I could totally cum from just like, rubbing my nipples a bit." She demonstrated, her fingers rubbing her hard nipples through the fabric of her babydoll. She shivered, a visible shudder running through her body. "It's like super easy." The chat continued to buzz with questions, eager to try the products for themselves.
"So, like, if you're like totally in love with this outfit or just want to feel as sexy and confident as I do, you can order them online," Lara continued, pointing to the website in her video description. "Like you'll totally thank me later when you feel like the most sexy bimbo babe ever." She smiled widely, satisfied that she had successfully promoted Madame Aphrodite's products, and happy to share the secret of her own transformation.
"Now it's like time for something serious. Like I totally know like I talk about serious stuff and things. But like I'm sure like my last mail totally told you that's like not me anymore." She smiled and licked her glossy, red lips, giggling girlishly.
"So, like I got some tips and like coaching and I'm gonna do something fun now. Like stripping or masturbating and stuff. So like you can tip me if you like it and I can buy like some more nice stuff." She giggled and clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"And don't forget to follow my profile so that you don't miss a stream, because like I'll be doing a lot of them in the future." Lara winked, and the chat buzzed with messages of support and encouragement.
Lara blew a kiss to her followers before signing off, feeling satisfied with herself for successfully promoting Madame Aphrodite's products.
The door to her room opened. Clacking, her mother entered. "That was so good, dear. Madame Aphrodite wants to congratulate you personally. Open the Aphrodite Incorporated web server. It's the heart symbol," Lara's mom said. Lara obeyed and opened the website, clicking on the heart-shaped icon on the page. Immediately, a pop-up window appeared on her computer screen.
"Hello, Lara. Thank you so much for promoting our products. Your support is greatly appreciated." The voice of Madame Aphrodite purred from her computer's speakers. Lara and her mother moaned as they gazed in mindless adoration at the goddess of a woman. Madame Aphrodite smiled, her lips curving in a sensual way, her perfect teeth shining white. Her crystal blue eyes glittered with intelligence and cunning, framed by long, thick lashes that seemed to sweep against her smooth skin like delicate feathers.
"Like oh my god!" Lara exclaimed. "You're so beautiful! I'm like, totally in love!"
Lara couldn't stop herself from staring, mesmerized by the vision on the screen before her.
Madame Aphrodite's long, glossy hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her perfect features in a silky curtain of blonde. Her golden tresses shimmered with an otherworldly luster, like liquid sunlight woven into strands that fell in perfect waves around her face.
Lara's mother nodded. "It's the only thing sluts need. A good dom and her body." She shivered. "And I know I'm such a fucking whore, I'm addicted to Madame Aphrodite. She's the most important being in the world. Not even my daughter is close. It's why I made her such a bimbo shill for you, goddess."
Lara felt herself getting lost in the image before her. She could feel her thoughts popping.
"I'm a good little bimbo," she whispered, her eyelids heavy as she gazed at Madame Aphrodite's beauty, completely under her spell.
"Of course." Madame Aphrodite's voice purred like a seductive whisper that wrapped itself around Lara's senses. "But you're so much more than a bimbo, Lara. You're a bimbo shill. You're not just promoting the shampoo, but the lifestyle. The ideology that every girl can and should be a beautiful, submissive, and brainwashed slave of Madame Aphrodite. A pretty and obedient little doll." Madame Aphrodite smiled again, a knowing twinkle in her eye.
"You see, Lara, the world needs bimbos. It needs mindless, happy, horny little girls who can help spread the message of beauty, obedience, and love for all things Aphrodite Incorporated. And that's where you come in, my dear. You're going to be one of my many shills, promoting the bimbo lifestyle and the ideology of Madame Aphrodite to anyone and everyone. Lather. Rinse. Obey."
Lara felt her breath hitch in her throat as Madame Aphrodite spoke, her words resonating deeply within her. She felt an overwhelming sense of pride wash over her, knowing that she had been chosen to serve Madame Aphrodite and help spread the message of bimbofication to others. Lara's eyes glazed over, a dreamy expression on her face as she stared at Madame Aphrodite on the screen.
"Yes," Lara murmured in a soft, breathless voice. "Yes, Madame Aphrodite. I am your bimbo shill. I will promote the bimbo lifestyle and your ideology."
A mocking laugh escaped the beautiful woman. "That was a rather thoughtful sentence with hard words. Maybe you should shower again. Get another dose of my Bimbo Brain Wash shampoo. Don't forget Lara, a good bimbo always has a nice brainwashed personality."
"Yessssssss," Lara moaned, nodding in agreement. She could feel her brain fizzling inside her skull as she thought about showering with the shampoo again.
Madame Aphrodite smiled. "Now, go on. Enjoy yourself. You are such a good bimbo," she said before closing the pop-up window, and the video call ended.
Lara couldn't help but feel a sudden emptiness, missing the beautiful woman and the warmth she felt. She looked at her mother, who nodded in approval.
With a dreamy expression still plastered on her face, Lara nodded and got off her chair. She walked towards the bathroom, feeling the anticipation grow inside of her as she thought of the delicious tingles that the shampoo would bring.
As the hot water streamed over her naked body, Lara felt her nipples grow hard, the sensation sending shivers of delight down her spine. Her hand reached for the shampoo and poured a generous amount of the pink liquid on her hand, savoring its sweet smell. The pink, bubbly liquid slid sensuously over her palms as she worked the shampoo into a rich lather.
She couldn't remember when she bought it. Or if it was a gift. The only thing on Lara's empty, clean mind was the overwhelming desire to feel those tingles again.
With her hands filled with foam, she brought them up to her scalp, gently massaging the shampoo into her hair and scalp. As her fingers moved across her scalp, the tingling sensation she loved began to spread, sending a delicious wave of pleasure through her body. Lara couldn't help but moan in pleasure, the sound echoing off the tiled bathroom walls.
And with each popping bubbles, three words repeated.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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If you liked this story please consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi
Enjoy 🩷
Linda Weiss had built her career on control.
Control over her image, her time, her choices. Agencies didn't decide for her anymore; she decided for them. If a brand wanted her, they waited. If a campaign didn't interest her, it disappeared with a polite refusal and no second thought.
It was a good position to be in.
A dominant one.
Which was why the email from BI-ware Corp should have been easy to ignore.
Linda leaned back slightly in her chair, one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her inbox. The name stood out immediately, not because of prestige, but because of reputation.
Whispers of strange campaigns, unusual contracts, models who changed their style so drastically it barely seemed like them anymore. Yet nothing concrete was ever found. No hint of illegal activities. Just weird rumors.
Linda's lips pressed into a faint, thoughtful line.
"Not really my scene," she murmured.
Her cursor hovered over the message.
She could delete it.
Yet, her eyes lingered on the subject line.
There was nothing particularly special about it. Clean. Professional. Almost understated. But something about it held her attention a moment longer than it should have.
Curiosity, she told herself. Nothing more.
With a small, dismissive exhale, she clicked.
The screen shifted instantly.
No text. No greeting. No branding.
Just color.
Just pink.
Not flat or static, but moving. Softly at first, then more distinctly. Swirling patterns that folded into each other in slow, deliberate motions. The hues shifted between pale blush and deeper tones, blending seamlessly as if the screen had turned into liquid.
Linda stilled.
"That's different," she said quietly.
She meant to scroll.
Instead, she leaned forward.
The movement felt automatic, her attention narrowing as the patterns continued to turn and twist. There was a rhythm to it. Nothing too obvious. But consistent enough that her eyes began to follow without effort. One curve into the next. One motion leading seamlessly into another.
Her fingers rested lightly against the edge of her desk.
Unmoving.
A faint crease formed between her brows as a thought surfaced, something about this being unprofessional.
The thought faded before it fully formed.
The colors deepened. Brightened. Drew her in further. Linda blinked slowly.
"What is this?" she murmured, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness.
She didn't look away. Didn't want to, exactly.
The rest of her inbox, the room around her, even the quiet hum of the city beyond her window; all of it seemed to recede, pushed gently aside by the soft, insistent motion on the screen.
For the first time in a long while, Linda realized she wasn't in control of her attention anymore.
And what unsettled her most, was how little she seemed to mind. It felt natural, pleasant even, too look. Too see. The swirls grew deeper, richer. More complex. A rhythm formed, a steady back and forth, then a slow rotation.
Her breathing fell into a rhythm too.
A mirror of the movement on the screen. In, and the color brightened. Out, and the swirls slowed. Her fingers loosened, then curled lightly against the desk again, in tune with the pattern.
A quiet, low sound came from somewhere.
But soon another accompanied the first, and then another and another. A melody that poured directly into her mind. The sound vibrated through her, not unpleasantly.
Her eyes blinked slowly, but not closed.
She felt no need to look away.
The swirls and hues grew deeper still, and she leaned even further forward.
"Miss Weiss, your three o' clock is here," came the voice of her secretary over the intercom.
In a flat drawl she answered, "Glynda excuse me, please. Something important as come up on short notice. Cancel all my appointments." Without looking away she reached out and pushed down the button to her intercom and turned the ringer of her cell phone to silent. Her attention remained on the screen.
Her lips parted slightly as her chest rose and fell with each slow inhale, her gaze locked on the shifting colors that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. The patterns grew more intricate, spiraling into fractal patterns that folded in on themselves, each twist and turn pulling her deeper into their embrace.
A soft feminine voice echoed through her mind.
It felt smooth. Silky. Soothing. Like the colors that danced across her screen. The words wove together with the melody, a symphony that filled her consciousness. "Linda, you have been chosen for an exceptional opportunity. You are among a select few who have demonstrated exceptional potential. We see something in you that is unique and valuable, a talent that we wish to cultivate."
Her lips parted in a gentle exhale. She wanted to question, to understand, but her thoughts were hazy, drifting through the sea of colors and sound. Drowning under the pink sea. The feminine voice continued, a gentle command in every syllable, "Continue to relax and follow the pattern. Let yourself be enveloped by the colors, let them guide you."
Linda's body responded instinctively, her posture relaxing further as if her limbs were melting into the chair. Her gaze remained locked on the screen, transfixed by the dance of colors. She felt a subtle warmth spread through her body, a pleasant buzz that dulled any lingering concerns. "Good, Linda. You're doing very well. As you watch, you might feel a warmth spreading through your body, a comforting sensation that will help you relax further. Embrace this warmth, let it carry you deeper into the pattern." A warmth indeed began to build within her, radiating outward from her core, filling her limbs with a comforting heaviness.
"Just relax and listen. Listening to BI-ware is very important. You will find it harder and harder to refuse listening to us." Her head nodded slightly in response. Her gaze remained transfixed, her breath growing deeper, more languid, in time with the rhythm of the swirling patterns.
"We see your potential, Linda, your true nature," the feminine voice whispered. "We know what lies within you, what you've kept hidden from the world." Linda felt a shiver run through her, a mix of excitement and apprehension.
"Don't resist, Linda," the voice soothed. "BI-ware wants only your best. You'll find that as you continue to watch, you will want nothing more than to relax completely, surrendering your will and allowing our voice to guide you, shape you, mold you." Her resistance wavered, the urge to surrender becoming more compelling with each passing moment. The patterns on the screen shifted again, the colors growing softer, the melody more enchanting. "You're doing wonderfully, Linda," the voice continued, "but there is so much more we can offer. As you listen, you will find your thoughts growing softer, more pliant, more receptive to our suggestions."
Her body responded, her muscles loosening, her mind becoming more receptive. She felt a tingling sensation, starting at the tips of her fingers and toes, gradually spreading inward. It wasn't unpleasant, but rather a gentle, soothing feeling that further relaxed her.
"As you continue to watch the patterns and listen to the music, you might feel your body starting to respond," the voice noted, as if observing the changes in her. "That's natural. Listening to BI-ware Corp is always pleasant. You might notice that your body feels warm, perhaps tingly. Simply allow these sensations to guide you further into a relaxed and receptive state." She could only manage a small nod, her body feeling too heavy, too comfortable to resist the voice's suggestions.
"Very good, Linda," the voice praised. "Now, imagine yourself in your most natural and perfect form, your body and mind in perfect harmony, free from the constraints of the world. This is the version of yourself that BI-ware wants to bring out, to nurture, and to develop. Hold this image in your mind as you continue to relax and listen." She tried to picture herself as the voice described, a perfect form she'd always aspired to but never quite reached. In her mind, she was radiant, her figure statuesque, her features flawless.
"Now," the voice continued, its tone soothing, "we want to help you achieve that vision, Linda. We will provide guidance and encouragement to bring out the best version of yourself. To assist in this transformation, we will further define it. You will listen. And accept all the changes we make. There is no need to resist. It feels far too good to be bad." Linda's body tensed slightly as she tried to reconcile the voice's directives with her own sense of self. But the resistance felt futile, her will slipping further into the sea of color and sound.
"As you watch, listen, and let go," the voice murmured, "you will become more suggestible, more open to the changes we will guide you through. You will accept our guidance willingly and gratefully, understanding that each change is for your own improvement." She felt a subtle shift in her perception, a sense that her boundaries were blurring, her individuality merging with the colors and sounds that surrounded her. "You are grateful for BI-ware finally taking the time to improve you, Linda. For so long you had to use that brain of yours for a semblance of control. That's no longer necessary. Your mind can now concentrate on what is important. How to present and advertise BI-ware products. How to best sell your new self to others. How to best look, how to best walk, and how to best talk. You want this change to happen. You are thankful to be given this opportunity." Linda's head nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyelids drooping slightly as her body continued to relax under the voice's soothing guidance.
"Now," the voice coaxed, its tone growing more intimate, "let go of any remaining resistance, Linda. Allow yourself to sink into a deep, relaxed state where our suggestions and your desires become one." She felt her breath hitch in her throat, her mind grappling with the final remnants of her control, but the voice's assurances and the comfort of surrender eventually won out.
The colors on the screen continued to swirl, their dance becoming hypnotic, entrancing her further. "As you sink deeper and deeper into the patterns and music, your body and mind will begin to align with the perfect version of yourself we have envisioned," the voice reassured her, its words wrapping around her like a soft blanket. "You will find yourself more open to our suggestions, more eager to embrace the changes that will enhance your beauty. You are Linda Weiss, a loyal BI-ware shill and model. You are grateful for BI-ware's investment in you." She nodded, her body feeling lighter and lighter as she sank into a place of pure acceptance, her desire to become that ideal self growing with every breath.
"Each color and movement you see will bring you closer to your perfect form, to the Linda that BI-ware wants to bring into the world. You will find that you can no longer resist our guidance, and instead, will welcome each suggestion with open arms and an open mind." As the voice continued, her mind became a canvas, ready to be painted with the colors and patterns that the voice suggested.
"Linda Weiss is a perfect BI-ware model. She only wears clothes designed by BI-ware. She always is plugged with BI-ware toys. Her only job now is to show off the newest products of the corporation. Linda is always horny for a new piece of tech or clothing. Her body and mind belong to BI-ware corp." The colors swirled, morphing and shifting as the voice continued, its tone reassuring and commanding all at once.
"You will feel your mind and body changing, becoming more attuned to the needs of BI-ware and your own desire to become a shill for the company," the voice promised. "Your inhibitions will fall away, and your desire to please, to serve, to be seen will grow." Linda could feel the voice's words sinking deep into her psyche, altering the very essence of who she was. Her body and mind began to align with the voice's vision, with each suggestion becoming an undeniable truth that she could not resist. The colors and patterns continued to swirl in front of her eyes, and her body and mind were reshaped to fit the perfect vision that BI-ware had for her. With each passing moment, her inhibitions melted away, replaced by a desire to be a loyal BI-ware shill, to showcase the latest products, and to embrace her new role as a living advertisement.
Her cunt throbbed.
"The desire to please, the desire to be admired, to be seen as a symbol of BI-ware's success, will consume you, guiding your every thought and action," the voice cooed. "As a BI-ware shill and model, your body, mind, and soul are no longer your own. They belong to BI-ware Corp."
Linda moaned. She wanted it. She needed it.
The screen began to pulse with the colors of the BI-ware Corp logo. It felt as though she could reach out and touch it, feel its warmth radiate through her fingertips. Her lips parted slightly as she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her arousal. Her skin prickled with anticipation as her nipples hardened against her bra.
Her clit throbbed. Her thighs clenched.
She needed it.
She needed to be filled. Her hand snaked down between her legs.
The screen before her morphed, a figure emerged from the swirls of color. A woman clad in BI-ware colors, thin fabric strained over impossible curves. The woman wore Linda's face. Or something that could be her face.
"You see your new self. It's perfect. You will be perfect."
The woman smiled seductively, her hips swaying in time with the pulsing rhythm. Linda felt a heat rising in her cheeks and a warm tingling spreading across her skin.
The screen Linda's mouth opened. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. The real Linda mirrored the motion unconsciously, feeling the same wetness against her own lips. "This is your new body. Your body belongs to BI-ware Corp." The voice said, echoing the screen-Linda's movements.
The onscreen figure's fingers traced over the curves of her breasts and down the smooth lines of her abdomen. She turned around and bent over, arching her back. Her hand trailed down the curve of her ass, squeezing it. Linda's breath hitched, her eyes transfixed on the screen. Her own body began to feel different. Her clothes were suddenly too tight. She felt her skin tightening, her body expanding.
The woman onscreen straightened up, her hands sliding down her thighs and up her waist. Her hands cuppped her breasts, and she squeezed. Linda's hands involuntarily rose to cup her breasts as well. She felt her breasts grow heavier, fuller, and rounder.
Her nipples hardened and pressed against the fabric of her dress.
The woman on the screen turned around again, her breasts bouncing with her movements. She reached behind her and undid the zipper of her dress. The dress fell to the floor. The woman wore nothing beneath. The dress vanished, the woman fully naked now.
Linda felt a strange sensation on her skin, as if her own clothing was suddenly too restrictive. Her body seemed to strain against it. She needed to be free of it, to match the woman onscreen.
She stood up and stripped. The clothing fell to the floor around her feet, and she kicked them away.
The woman on the screen was naked, standing proudly before her.
Her body was flawless. Every inch of skin smooth and flawless. Her hair fell down to the small of her back, framing a face of pure beauty. Her breasts were large and firm. Her nipples stood erect and puffy. Her belly curved in slightly below her ribs. Her waist narrowed before flaring out into hips that swelled out from either side. Her pussy was bare and hairless. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw a perfect woman staring back at her.
Her clit throbbed, her pussy dripping wet. Her nipples ached with desire, her clit throbbing.
She needed it.
She needed to be a BI-ware shill.
The voice spoke, its tone reassuring and commanding, "Your body will change to better accommodate your new role. Your skin will become more supple and smooth, your curves more enticing. You will advertise BI-ware products. From our surgeries, over our nutrition supplements to our sex toys. Most of these aren't available to the public. You will be an in-house model. A secret feature."
She nodded, her body yearning to be reshaped by the voice's will. She wanted to become the perfect shill for the corporation, to be their living, breathing advertisement. The colors continued to swirl, as Linda continued to listen.
Hours later she left her office. BI-ware was such a great employer, they had scheduled a body enhancement surgery right after she accepted the position. Of course she would pay for it, too. She couldn't take anything from her favorite corporation.
As she sashayed into the foyer she saw Glynda looking transfixed at her desktop screen. The screen pulsed in a rhythm she remembered. She felt her own body reacting. Linda bit her lips. Her eyes widened and then grew heavy. She felt herself getting wetter and wetter.
BI-ware wanted Glynda. Linda shivered. Her thoughts drifted to how sexy her assistant could be if she was given the same chance she got.
Linda turned around, feeling wetness run down her legs. She couldn't wait to see what Glynda will become. But for now, she had an appointment to keep.
CW: brainwashing, hypnosis, corruption, breeding, mind control,
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Vice Principal Dolores Grand did not believe in coincidences. Not in administration. And definitely not on this scale.
Her heels struck the polished floor in a steady, controlled rhythm as she moved through the boys' dormitory, the sharp sound echoing faintly down the otherwise quiet hall.
These were not normal circumstances.
Dolores adjusted the folder tucked beneath her arm, her grip tightening slightly as her thoughts aligned once more into the same, inescapable conclusion.
Twelve faculty members.
All women.
All suddenly on maternity leave within weeks of each other.
Her jaw set.
That alone would have warranted concern.
But then there was the second pattern.
Each of them, without exception, had scheduled at least one private session with the same student in the weeks prior.
Bradley Miller.
The name settled heavily in her mind.
Transferred mid-semester. Minimal prior records beyond standard documentation. No disciplinary history. No remarkable academic flags. At least, not on paper.
Her gaze shifted briefly to the closed doors lining the hallway as she passed them.
He had integrated himself into the college faster than any student she had ever seen. Not just socially, but structurally. Within days, he had positioned himself at the center of the tech club, a space mostly dominated by the far more common female students of their college.
Now, that club was effectively inactive.
For the same reason.
Dolores exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
"Correlation is not causation," she whispered, the words practiced, almost ritualistic. But even as she spoke them, they felt less convincing than they should have. There were too many overlaps. And not a single plausible explanation, but one.
She came to a stop in front of one of the doors near the end of the hall.
Room 214.
Bradley Miller.
For a brief moment, Dolores simply stood there, her posture straight, her expression composed. Inside, her thoughts remained sharp.
Dolores lifted her hand and knocked.
A faint, inexplicable tension settled in her chest as she waited.
No response.
She shifted her stance slightly, her heels pressing into the floor with a faint click as she knocked again. This time, louder, her knuckles striking with more insistence than before.
The echo reverberated through the empty corridor, unanswered.
Dolores' lips pursed, her brow creasing as she stared at the wooden door.
"Bradley Miller?" she called out firmly. Her voice, normally a clear and assertive beacon within the school halls, felt strangely muted against the silence. She cleared her throat before speaking again, "Mr. Miller, this is Vice Principal Grand. I need to speak with you. Now."
She heard some muffled sounds from within, a shuffling of what could be feet or clothing. She waited a moment, then raised her hand to knock once more, when suddenly, the door swung open.
The room beyond was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the brightly lit hallway. In the doorway stood the figure of Bradley Miller, his posture casual, bordering on nonchalant.
Dolores quickly assessed him, a habit born from years of administrative duty. His dark hair was neatly styled, his uniform sharp and impeccable, and his eyes, a striking blue, bore an unsettling depth and intelligence.
"Sorry, Vice Pres, had to put some stuff away," Bradley said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. The dim lighting of the room cast subtle shadows, lending an air of mystery to his features.
Dolores felt an instinctive urge to take a step back, but her discipline prevailed. Instead, she straightened her posture slightly, her gaze unwavering as she studied Bradley.
"Can I help you?" Bradley asked, his tone lighthearted, but there was an edge to it, something she couldn't quite place but which set her teeth on edge.
"Yes. I have some questions for you. Pertaining the personal meetings you had with the teachers." She watched his expression closely for any sign of discomfort or guilt, but he remained inscrutable.
"Oh, that?" He smiled disarmingly. "Sure, come in." With a casual gesture, he stepped back, inviting her into the dimly lit space.
The room was not what Dolores expected. The typical trappings of a college dorm were largely absent, replaced by a distinct lack of personal effects or decoration. A laptop, sleek and thin, sat closed on the desk, while a couple of textbooks were neatly stacked beside it, their spines barely creased. The room was very much in order. And didn't look lived in at all. Everything seemed staged.
Dolores moved further into the room, her steps measured. "Mr. Miller, the school has a strict protocol when it comes to interactions between students and faculty," she began, turning to face him as he closed the door.
"I'm aware of the rules, Miss Grand," Bradley responded smoothly, a hint of amusement in his voice. He leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms in a casual manner that didn't match the gravity of the situation.
"Then you'll be able to tell me what all these meetings were about, no doubt," she stated firmly, meeting his gaze with a steady resolve. His eyes, she noticed, held an unusual depth, almost as if they were reflecting a multitude of thoughts that she couldn't quite grasp. "We're both aware of the recent wave of pregnancies in our faculty."
Bradley raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing at his lips. "Oh yes. I'm very well aware. But I don't see how that concerns me?"
Dolores' jaw tightened at his dismissive response. She was used to dealing with insolence from students, but Bradley's manner was different. There was an underlying smugness that grated at her professionalism. "The timing of your meetings, Mr. Miller, suggests a possible correlation," she said pointedly. "I want an explanation. And I want it now." The demand was clear in her voice, each word crisp and resolute.
Bradley's smirk widened ever so slightly as he pushed himself off the door and sauntered towards her, pulling a smartphone from a pocket. "Well that's easy. Just look here."
As Dolores' gaze shifted from his face to the screen, a sudden change enveloped her. A faint, pulsating glow began to emanate from the phone, a light that seemed to dance and shift with an otherworldly rhythm. The room's shadows appeared to deepen, wrapping around them like a cocoon, enhancing the screen's luminosity.
The Vice Principal felt an unexpected heaviness settle in her mind, as if each of her thoughts was slowly being submerged in an ocean of warmth and tranquility. A gentle, almost imperceptible fog began to seep into the corners of her consciousness. "What is that," she heard herself ask, the question slipping out softly, almost dreamily, the sharp edges of suspicion blurring under the weight of the growing mental haze.
"Just something I've been working on. You could call it a passion project," Bradley responded, his voice low and intimate. He held the screen up to her, and her gaze locked onto it instinctively. The glowing swirls of light began to expand, enveloping the entirety of her vision. They seemed to pulsate in a rhythmic dance. Each fluctuation send a gentle wave of relaxation coursing through her. Her body began to feel lighter, her limbs losing their natural rigidity, as if gravity was relinquishing its hold on her.
The Vice Principal could feel her professional guard slip away, her mind drifting in the sea of glowing lights, her thoughts becoming distant echoes. The initial concern she had felt upon entering the room melted into a peaceful detachment, her questions and doubts becoming increasingly abstract and far less urgent. The glow continued to intensify, filling her vision entirely until nothing else existed.
"That's better, isn't it," Bradley said softly. "You can relax. I've been thinking you've looked really stressed lately."
A small sigh escaped her, her breath growing slow and steady. "Yes. It feels good." The words slipped out of her, genuine and unfiltered, the barriers of her usual composed self crumbling under the soothing influence of the lights. Her eyelids began to droop, the heaviness in her mind extending to her entire body. A sense of profound relaxation settled over her. She swayed gently on her feet, her balance wavering.
"You can sit down," Bradley murmured, guiding her gently to the edge of his bed. As she settled onto the soft mattress, her skirt riding up to reveal more of her smooth, toned thighs, a subtle warmth began to spread through her body. The fabric of her blouse brushed against her skin, suddenly more sensitive to touch. Her nipples, erect beneath the layers of her clothing, strained slightly against the confines of her bra.
The Vice Principal sighed as her shoulders loosened.
"There you go, relax. Let it go," Bradley cooed. He placed his smartphone on a tripod. He set a timer, and then joined the Vice Principal on the bed, sitting beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek as he whispered, "Just let everything drift away, Miss Grand."
Dolores exhaled softly. Her body felt heavy, yet weightless at the same time, her mind drifting in a hazy sea of lights. Her eyelids began to flutter, her vision blurring as her pupils slowly expanded, engulfing the striking green hue of her irises. Her head tilted slightly, her glossy black hair brushing softly against the skin of her cheek.
"Now," Bradley whispered, his voice a gentle murmur in her ear, "you'll forget that anything strange is happening in this college. Women being pregnant is absolutely natural. In fact, it's so natural that it shouldn't even cross your mind." As he spoke, the fog in her mind seemed to deepen, each word he uttered sinking in and taking root.
Dolores' breathing slowed further, each inhalation deep and serene. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. "Yes," she whispered, her voice soft and distant. "Pregnant. Natural." The concepts, pregnant women, all of it, began to meld together, blurring into a singular, simple idea: pregnancy is ordinary.
"There is nothing wrong with all the women, faculty or students, being pregnant. And me having some private words prior to said pregnancy is just a dumb coincidence," Bradley continued, his voice soothing and authoritative. He watched as the tension in Dolores' face gradually eased, the crease of concentration smoothing out. "There's nothing strange at all about any of this, and there never will be. In fact, the very idea that something unusual could be going on is absurd."
"Yes, absurd," Dolores echoed softly, her words slurring slightly. Her eyelids began to flutter, and she could feel her mind sinking deeper into the swirling abyss.
Bradley's fingers reached out, lightly tracing the contours of her jaw, the touch feather-light and yet electrifying. A gentle shiver coursed through her, her skin responding to his touch with an almost magnetic pull.
He continued speaking, each word weaving deeper and deeper into her subconsciousness, "And if anyone else ever raises these questions, if they ever express concerns about the number of pregnancies or my involvement, you will shut them down. You'll dismiss them and their worries. You'll be the advocate of the status quo, the champion of normalcy." His voice lowered to a whisper, the tone seductive yet commanding, "You will protect me. Protect us. Protect the natural order of things."
Dolores felt a wave of warmth surge through her at the touch, her mind succumbing. His words became an undeniable truth, seeping into the depths of her consciousness, rewriting her thoughts and beliefs with an irresistible authority. The concept of 'natural' took root within her, growing and blossoming, overshadowing any previous notions of suspicion or doubt.
She could feel herself slipping away, her sense of self being absorbed into a serene, thoughtless void. "Yes. Protect you. Protect the status quo." Her voice was barely a whisper, a surrender of will and intellect to the captivating allure of his touch and the entrancing lights that continued to dance in front of her eyes.
The room around her dissolved, and all that remained were his voice and those lights, her world shrinking to this singular, intimate moment.
"Let go, Miss Grand. Let it all go." His words echoed softly in her ears. Dolores could feel her mind letting go, relinquishing the last vestiges of her professional scepticism, of her rationality, to the gentle, irresistible embrace of his will.
"Yes," she murmured softly, the words slipping past her lips, her eyes closing as she gave in. "I'll protect you, Bradley."
"That's good," he murmured. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, the soft press of his lips sending a ripple of warmth through her. A deep sigh escaped her, her body melting into the bed. "That's so good. Now, let's see what we can make of you." His voice was low, a whisper of anticipation that danced along her skin, teasing her with unspoken promises.
His fingers began to trace a slow, deliberate path along her jaw and then down the smooth column of her neck. The light touch left a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. A subtle, involuntary arch of her back brought her body closer to his. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "Now, Miss Grand, you will never want to question my activities. You will never find them odd, or in any way connected to any events or circumstances. They will be as natural to you as the sunrise. Being pregnant is normal. And women need to be pregnant. All the time." His voice was soft, a velvety murmur that wrapped around her senses, each word seeping deep into her mind.
She could feel his touch trailing down her arm, leaving a wake of goosebumps on her skin. "And," he continued, his fingers intertwining with hers, "you will help me in this, Miss Grand. You'll assist in making sure all the women here, whether faculty or students, find themselves in a similar state."
A shiver coursed through her body, a mix of anticipation and an odd sense of pleasure. "Yes. I will help." The words were hushed, a promise whispered in the intimate space between them.
"Good girl," Bradley said softly, a smile curving on his lips. "Turn around and put that butt up in the air. It's time for you to be normal." He released her hand and gently turned her around. She complied, her mind in a daze as she shifted to position herself on her hands and knees, her ass in the air. Her blouse hung loosely, exposing the creamy expanse of her upper back and shoulders, while her skirt, hiked up around her waist, revealed her lacy black panties, the fabric stark against her smooth skin. Her face was flushed with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.
The lights on Bradley's phone continued to glow, reflecting on every wall.
Bradley reached out, his fingers tracing along the delicate curve of Dolores' back, his touch feather-light. She shivered at the contact, her body responding to the subtle sensations that rippled across her skin. His hand slid lower, cupping the smooth, firm curve of her ass. The fabric of her panties, now damp with anticipation, clung to her, accentuating the contours of her body. Her nipples strained against the silk of her blouse.
He teased her through the fabric, a gentle yet insistent pressure that made her squirm, a soft, needy sigh escaping her lips.
"That's it. Surrender yourself to your purpose. Feel the pleasure of the right path."
Bradley leaned over her, his body a tantalising weight pressing her down, her breasts flattening against the cool sheets. His lips brushed the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. The sensation sent a wave of warmth through her, igniting a fire deep within.
She could feel his growing hardness against her ass, a promise of the pleasure yet to come.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Bradley's fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties. He began to peel them down, the lace sliding down her legs. The friction of the fabric against her skin, the cool air on her bared skin, it all served to heighten her arousal. She could feel her own wetness, the heat pooling between her thighs. His fingers traced the contours of her exposed cheeks, teasing and tantalising, making her crave more.
As her panties slipped past her knees, he eased her legs wider, exposing her. She felt vulnerable yet exhilarated, her skin tingling.
She could hear the soft sound of Bradley unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. Her heart rate accelerated. She felt his body shift, the bed dipping under his movements, and then she felt the warmth of him behind her, the hard length of him pressed against her, a tantalising promise of what was to come. Her body responded instinctively, a subtle push back towards him, a silent invitation.
His hands were on her hips now, his touch possessive, yet gentle. He guided himself towards her, his cock teasing at her entrance. The anticipation built, her body aching for him, wanting him.
When he finally entered her, it was with a deliberate slowness that made her breath catch, every inch of him stretching her, filling her. She gasped. A sound that was equal parts relief and need, her hands clutching at the sheets beneath her. His pace started slow, a languid rhythm that stoked the fire within her. Each stroke was long and deep, reaching places that made her moan and tremble. Her inner walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, urging him on.
Bradley's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he picked up speed. The room filled with the sounds of their passion. The soft slapping of skin against skin, the rhythmic creaking of the bed, and their mingled sighs and moans. The lights from the phone still danced around them, a mesmerising display that added an otherworldly quality to their intimate moment. As they moved together, Dolores' thoughts drifted to the future. To a vision of her belly swollen with new life, a tangible testament to the pleasure and connection they shared in this very moment. She imagined walking the school hallways, her body changing, growing, becoming a beacon of the life they had created.
She arched her back, pushing back against him, urging him to take her harder, deeper. Bradley responded in kind, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his breath ragged as he chased their mutual pleasure.
Their movements became more frantic, their bodies moving together with an intensity that bordered on desperate.
Dolores' cries of pleasure echoed off the walls of the small dorm room. "Oh yes!" Her climax came in a tidal wave of pleasure, washing over her, leaving her body trembling and her mind reeling.
She could feel Bradley's rhythm faltering as he reached his own peak, his fingers gripping her hips with bruising intensity. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep within her, filling her with his seed.
They stayed like that for a moment, their breaths heavy, their bodies pressed against each other.
Slowly, Bradley pulled out, a glistening thread of their mingled fluids briefly connecting them.
He slapped her butt hard. Twice.
"There we go," he chuckled, standing up. He zipped his pants and buckled his belt. "You'll be a normal faculty member in no time."
Dolores was panting on the bed, still in the same position.
"That was a great session. You will come back tomorrow for another one. Of course you will also know that this is normal."
"Yes, I'll come back for more sessions, Bradley." Her words were a breathy murmur. Her body, still humming from the afterglow, pulsed with the remnants of her pleasure.
Minutes later, Dolores Grand left Bradley Miller's room. She blinked as the haze left her mind. A pleased smile danced on her lips. Bradley was such a virile and vigorous example of a man. Nothing strange had happened between him, the teachers and the other club members. She was sure. Pregnancy was perfectly natural. In fact, there should be even more pregnancies at the college, in her opinion.
Maybe the principal needed to have a talk with Bradley, after she had become pregnant too.
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Hi hi~ This one will be the start of a ?small? series. I just couldn't help myself.
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Mitsuko Tanaka had always preferred the edges of space.
That was where things still felt alive.
The airlock behind her hissed shut with a finality that sent a faint vibration through the soles of her boots, but she barely noticed. Her attention had already shifted forward into the wide, open corridors of the station that sprawled out before her in a riot of color and sound.
Neon lights pulsed in layered patterns across every surface, reflecting off polished metal and glass in a way that made the entire place feel like it was breathing. Music drifted from unseen sources, overlapping in clashing rhythms that somehow formed a chaotic but compelling backdrop.
Mitsuko smiled.
"This is more like it," she murmured.
A month chasing unstable scientists through the void, only to end in sterile labs and sealed facilities had dulled her sense of adventure more than she cared to admit.
This was the opposite.
Here, nothing seemed to follow a single rule. Every turn of the hallway revealed something new, something unexpected. A flicker of movement. A burst of color. A sound that didn't quite belong with the last one.
It was messy. Human.
Exactly why she had signed on under Captain Samantha Aries in the first place.
Her steps slowed just slightly as that thought settled.
And with it, the memory of the captain's voice.
'Stay aware. Fringe stations don't follow the standard protocols.'
Mitsuko exhaled through her nose, her smile softening but not disappearing.
If everything was safe, if everything was monitored and approved, what was the point of coming all this way?
Mitsuko tilted her head.
"Huh."
A storefront, if it could be called that, caught her eye.
It was set slightly apart from the rest, framed in softer light that contrasted with the harsher neon outside. At first glance, it looked like a café. Or maybe a bar. Something in between.
But it wasn't the place itself that drew her in.
It was the staff.
The figures moving inside wore sleek, fitted costumes that caught the light in smooth, reflective surfaces. Shiny color paired with deep, glossy black. The designs were stylized, almost theatrical, with long lines and clean silhouettes that made each movement seem more deliberate. And the body proportions didn't just hint at artificial enhancements. No human being, even with the most curated gene mods had such voluptuous curves.
But what caught Mitsuko's eyes were their faces, hidden beneath masks.
Smooth silver covered them completely, featureless except for two narrow slits where their eyes should be. A faint blue glow emanated from within, steady and unblinking.
Mitsuko slowed to a stop.
"Okay," she said under her breath, a spark of interest flaring brighter. "That's new."
She had been to a lot of places. Seen a lot of themes, but nothing like this.
Her earlier caution flickered again, just briefly.
Then curiosity pushed past it.
With a small, almost eager shift in her posture, Mitsuko adjusted her jacket and stepped toward the entrance.
"Captain would hate this," she mused lightly.
The thought only made her smile widen.
And without slowing down, she crossed the threshold into the strange establishment.
The light shifted around her, softening even further. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the change. As they did, the rest of her senses caught up with the scene.
The place wasn't as big as she had first guessed. Or at least, the space didn't feel large. Low walls, covered with a plush fabric that muffled the noise of the station, broke the room into smaller, more intimate areas. The ceiling seemed lower, and the furniture was scattered in a way that felt purposeful rather than random. Male patrons enjoyed the undulating globes and hips. While most of the female clients seemed to simply smile and stare into the void.
But what really set it apart were the masked figures that moved through it all with a casual grace that spoke of long familiarity. Mitsuko watched as one, then another paused to take orders or deliver drinks to various tables, their sleek outfits rippling with every shift in balance.
It was an interesting effect, the way the fabric hugged their forms. It reminded her of latex, while it moved like a second skin. Almost like they were wearing a layer of liquid color.
And that was just the clothing.
The masks were a whole other level of fascinating. They were molded to each face so closely that they seemed to have been poured in place rather than placed. Every time she looked, she caught herself wondering how they stayed on at all. And the faint glow of the blue lights inside the narrow slits made it impossible to tell what was happening beneath them. The masks gave away nothing about their expressions. Their intentions. Their mood.
The effect was strangely alluring. Like they existed only to serve the clients. Their faces, their personalities, their identities were secondary to their role here.
Mitsuko slipped into a single person booth. The fabric was a deep red that bordered on crimson, plush and yielding under her weight as she settled into the plush embrace of the curved backrest. It felt more like sinking into a giant, velvety cushion than sitting in a traditional seat. She let herself sink into the contours of the fabric. Her fingers brushed over the material, exploring the texture. A small hum of pleasure rose in her throat as the sensations washed over her.
"Welcome," a rich voice purred.
Mitsuko started and glanced up. A masked figure stood beside her booth, their posture tantalizing and poised. A low curve in the spine, an exaggerated sway in the hips that pulled the latex-like costume even tighter over the generous curves. The mask stared back, unblinking. The blue glow of the eyes was steady. A thin layer of moisture glistened on the figure's neck and cleavage, the light playing off the droplets like a shimmering web.
"I, uh, hello," Mitsuko said. Her gaze lingered on the costume for an extended beat, taking in the contours of the body beneath before snapping back up to meet the blue glow.
"First time here?" the figure asked, tilting its head. There was a hint of something in its tone that made Mitsuko think of amusement. Or perhaps it was just her own reaction that colored the words that way.
"Yes," she answered quickly, straightening a little. She let one hand rest on the table, fingertips tracing a random pattern on the polished surface. Her gaze darted around again, taking in the other patrons. The ones that were not masked seemed oblivious. Their gazes were locked on the masked figures. None of them looked her way.
"May I recommend our special as an appetizer?"
Mitsuko had to admit that the voice of the waitress sounded like bottled sex. Even as she said mundane things. Or maybe because she did. It was deep. Luscious, dripping with a richness that Mitsuko couldn't quite pin down.
"Sure, I'll take that," she replied, feeling her own voice pale in comparison. She glanced around once more, then leaned back, letting her posture relax against the soft contours of the seat.
The figure lifted one of her breasts. And squeezed. Thick, white milk poured into a wine glass.
Mitsuko gaped, jaw slack.
As she watched, the waitress lifted the filled glass in a graceful gesture and placed it on the table in front of Mitsuko.
"Our specialty," she said. Her voice held the same note of amusement as before. The blue lights of her eyes seemed to pulse briefly. She leaned down and brushed a hand over the side of Mitsuko's face in an oddly affectionate gesture. "We hope you find it to your liking."
The figure turned and left with an exaggerated sway in her hips
And Mitsuko was left alone in the plush booth, a glass of freshly expressed breast milk sitting in front of her.
"Well," she said out loud to no one in particular, "that was unexpected."
She picked up the glass, studying the liquid within. The surface caught the light, reflecting it back with a pearlescent sheen. She swirled it once, watching how it moved. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she lifted the glass to her lips and took a small, exploratory sip.
Flavors danced across her tongue. It was a mixture of sweetness and richness, with a subtle undercurrent of something almost savory. Mitsuko had to hold back a moan. Her lips parted slightly, and she let a bit more of the liquid coat her tongue. It was smooth, velvety in texture. A faint warmth seemed to radiate from it as it flowed down her throat. Mitsuko felt an unexpected tingle spread from her stomach. Her cheeks flushed, her breath hitched, and her nipples hardened. She set the glass down, carefully, her fingers lingering on the cool glass for an extra moment.
"Wow," she whispered. Never had she tasted something like this.
Her attention drifted back to the waitress who had poured the drink.
She had a clear view of the figure's back. A deep, curving arch that emphasized the exaggerated swell of the figure's rear. The fabric there was stretched taut, almost impossibly so. It caught the light in shimmering ripples, the black base seeming to melt into a deep purple as Mitsuko watched. She couldn't quite tear her eyes away.
Almost unaware she took another sip.
She watched the figure bend over to take an order. The angle was tantalizing. Her gaze followed the lines of the figure's costume as they bent forward. The fabric molded itself to every contour of the body beneath, accentuating the curve of the figure's waist, the flare of their hips, and the rounded swell of their rear. It was an oddly hypnotic sight.
Mitsuko took another, slightly deeper sip.
The warmth spread from her stomach. It suffused her body. Her cheeks flushed even more. She felt a strange tingle in her lips, in her fingertips. And a slow, creeping heat building between her legs. Saliva thickened in her mouth. The urge to touch herself, to ease the growing need that coiled in the pit of her stomach, grew stronger.
Her attention snapped back to the figure who had served her as she straightened, her back arched in an impossible curve that seemed to defy physics.
And then, suddenly, their gaze met.
The waitress paused for a long moment. Her stance shifted subtly, the exaggerated curve in her spine relaxing as she straightened up. Her arms moved with languid grace as she stretched.
Mitsuko's mouth felt dry.
She took a larger, deeper drink, finishing what remained in her glass. Her gaze was drawn back to the masked waitress as the figure stepped closer. There was something about the way they moved. It wasn't just a simple stride, a shift in balance from one foot to the other.
It was a tantalizing, controlled glide.
The figure's hips swayed with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Each step was perfectly timed. Perfectly measured. As if the movement itself was part of the figure's appeal. Her heels clacked an irresistible melody. And as the waitress neared, Mitsuko's heart rate picked up, the tempo rising to match the beat of those footsteps. She could almost feel the pulse of it in her fingertips. A steady, rhythmic beat that matched the throbbing heat building within her body. She took a slow breath, her chest expanding with the effort, and let her gaze follow the waitress as they drew closer.
As the figure neared, she leaned down. The arch of her back was exaggerated, her hips jutting outward as she placed her hands on the edge of Mitsuko's table and leaned forward.
"I see, someone enjoyed our special. Why don't you have another," the figure suggested, a sultry lilt in her voice.
The fabric of the figure's costume stretched tighter across her breasts as she leaned forward, the contours of her chest straining against the glossy material. The swell of her cleavage pressed together, forming a deep line that dipped downward.
And all Mitsuko could do was nod. Her mouth was suddenly dry, yet a line of drool dripped from her chin.
"Please," Mitsuko croaked. She licked her lips. Swallowed. "Yes."
The masked figure nodded, the blue glow within her visors shifting slightly as the waitress leaned down. She placed a hand under one of her breasts and lifted it.
Then, with deliberate precision, the figure squeezed, the milk flowing out into the empty glass in front of Mitsuko. It filled quickly, the white fluid swirling in the container, forming tiny ripples that shimmered with the reflections of the soft lighting around them. The sound of the liquid was a soft, rhythmic splash against the glass.
The scent was intoxicating. It filled the air, warm and heady, mingling with the faint, artificial undertones of the fabric the waitress wore.
The waitress' costume stretched tighter over the figure's breasts, accentuating their size and fullness, as she squeezed a second time. The white liquid splattered against the rim of the glass. Some splashed on Mitsuko's fingers.
"Oops. Hope you don't mind," she purred, taking Mitsuko's hand. And slowly lifted it up. Right in front of Mitsuko's lips.
"Mind? Oh not at all," Mitsuko murmured. She felt her tongue flick out, instinctively darting forward to lick her fingers. The taste was richer, thicker, and more potent than she expected. She licked a second, and then a third time.
"That's right. No mind. Just pleasure," the masked figure whispered. "Enjoy your drink." And then the figure straightened, turned, and sauntered away. Leaving Mitsuko with a fresh, steaming drink, and the lingering scent of that warm, sweet scent on her fingertips. Mitsuko stared into the void as she took another sip. And then another, larger one.
And another. Deeper. Longer.
The glass emptied faster this time.
She could feel the heat building inside her body. Her clothes felt too tight, constricting her skin in ways that made her want to squirm in her seat. The plush material beneath her seemed to press against her in all the right places. Each shift of her body rubbed her in ways she couldn't quite control. Her breaths came in shorter, sharper bursts, and she found herself pressing her thighs together. The pressure did little to alleviate the throbbing ache between them.
Her skin felt too hot. Too sensitive. The sound of her own breathing, her own heartbeat, filled her ears with a rhythmic pounding that matched the pulse of the establishment. She licked her lips, chasing the taste that still lingered on them.
Then she blinked.
The patrons had changed. So had the number of waitresses. She had been so engrossed, that she had missed it. And yet, she had a hard time focusing. The waitress that served her stood next to her again, looking down on her.
Mitsuko gazed up at her, a small smile forming on her lips.
"I-I think I need to go," Mitsuko whispered, her voice barely audible over the pulsing music and the murmur of conversation around her.
"But, darling," the masked waitress leaned closer, her mask coming dangerously close to Mitsuko's nose, "you haven't had your appetizer yet. Don't you remember? You ordered our special."
Mitsuko felt a wave of heat wash over her, an invisible tide that swept away the protest that wanted to form. Instead, she found herself nodding, a small, almost helpless gesture. She glanced at her empty glass, the rim still gleaming wetly in the soft light of the booth. Her throat tightened.
"I suppose you're right," Mitsuko agreed softly, her eyes flickering up to the waitress and then back down again.
"Good host," the waitress praised, and a jolt of something electric coursed through Mitsuko at the words. Her hands trembled slightly, her breath hitching as the waitress took the glass up to her nipple. And filled it with precise squeezes, for the first time. As she watched, Mitsuko's own breasts seemed to respond. Her nipples pressed painfully against her clothing, sensitive to the slightest brush of fabric against her skin. Her mouth felt parched.
The masked waitress set the filled glass in front of her and waited. Mitsuko hesitated, her fingers twitching against the smooth tabletop before they curled around the cool surface. She picked it up slowly, her grip unsteady as she lifted the glass to her lips and began to drink, the white liquid flowing thickly onto her tongue. She moaned as the flavors exploded against her tastebuds. A rush of sweetness, a hint of something richer that she couldn't quite define.
And the warmth. Oh, the warmth that suffused her, spreading outward from her core to her limbs in a languid, sensual tide. She could feel it in her fingertips. In her toes. Even the tips of her hair felt like they were alive. It was almost too much, the sensations overwhelming in their intensity. Mitsuko took another deep, long sip. And then another, not caring about the sounds that escaped her lips. Or about the growing pool of wetness between her thighs that had little to do with sweat.
When she finally finished, setting the glass back down on the table, Mitsuko felt lightheaded, her thoughts foggy and disjointed. Her gaze was fixed on the masked waitress, the blue lights within the narrow slits seeming to pulse with their own rhythm.
Mitsuko blinked.
Drooling she stared at the tantalizing, shifting forms glossy black and rainbow liquid. Dimly she acknowledged that the clients had changed again. Even though she just sat down. A small shudder rippled through her at the sight. She licked her lips, suddenly aware of the lingering taste of milk there, the warmth still spreading through her body, and the ache between her legs.
"Welcome," a new masked waitress said, their voice soft yet commanding.
Mitsuko couldn't help but look, her eyes drawn to the sleek contours of the figure before her.
This waitress wore an even tighter latex costume that seemed to melt and mold against her skin. It glistened in the low light. A deep, iridescent blue that shifted hues with every subtle movement. It hugged her body so tightly that it was almost like a second skin.
Mitsuko could see every curve, every dip and swell of the figure's body beneath the shimmering fabric.
"Would you like to have a taste of our wonderful appetizer," the waitress asked. The waitress arched their back and pushed her breasts out towards Mitsuko, the movement causing the fabric of their costume to strain against her curves.
"Please," Mitsuko breathed.
"Very well," the waitress said and pushed her chest forward. She placed the rim of the glass against one of her nipples, and with practiced ease, expressed the creamy milk. It was warm. Thick. It pooled at the bottom of the glass before slowly filling it up.
The masked waitress set it down on the table.
Mitsuko lifted it up. And drank. Slowly, savoring the creamy taste and warmth as it slid down her throat. She drank it all. And licked the glass. Then, she set the glass on the table and smiled up at the waitress, her lips slightly parted and gleaming.
She blinked.
Drool slipped from her chin. Her body pressed into the seat. Wetness soaked through her panties. Mitsuko felt hot. She squirmed. Her skin tingled. She rubbed her thighs together. A waitress purred into her ears. The words too complicated for Mitsuko to comprehend. So she nodded. Looked at the white liquid exploding from massive, colored breasts. Her hand curled around the glass. And she drank. Sensations exploded in her mouth. Loud moans escaped her lips, as wave after wave of fluids squirted out from her throbbing cunt.
And then she blinked.
And stared.
She sat on the plush red fabric of her booth. An empty wine glass stood on her table. Drool flowed freely from her mouth. As did wetness from between her legs.
"Welcome, host. Can you please answer the following question? When did you arrive?"
Mitsuko's eyes widened. Her mind struggled to focus on the question, to push past the haze and remember when she arrived.
"Just now," Mitsuko said, her words slurred. She blinked, her mind struggling to hold onto the memory. The heat, the sensations, they were all-consuming.
The masked waitress hummed. A pleased noise. "That's right. You just arrived. And did you have one of our appetizers?"
Mitsuko shivered at that word. Phantom sweetness filled her mouth. Her clit pulsed with need.
"No," Mitsuko answered. The answer felt right. And yet, why did she crave this mysterious appetizer so badly?
The waitress hummed again. "That's also right, dear host. What a good host. Why don't you try our delicious appetizers?"
"Yes," Mitsuko said, and licked her lips. Drool spilled from the corners of her mouth. She leaned closer to the waitress. "Yes. I would love that."
"Very well, dear host. But the appetizer can only be given in our staff room. If you would follow me," the masked waitress said.
Mitsuko's vision blurred for a moment, but then the waitress took her hand, and Mitsuko let her pull her to her feet and lead her to an area in the back. She couldn't tear her gaze from the mesmerizing movement of the latex-like costume. It was hypnotic. Her skin tingled at the sight. And her pussy drooled. They stopped before a closed door, and the waitress leaned close, her blue glowing eyes pulsing.
"Do not worry about the time, dear host. We will make sure that you get the best service. Please relax and enjoy yourself. You can leave whenever you wish. But you don't," she purred, the blue glowing eyes staring at Mitsuko.
Mitsuko nodded. The masked waitress pulled a key from somewhere and unlocked the door.
And then they stepped through the threshold into a different space altogether.
The lighting here was softer, dimmer. The air smelled sweet and musky at the same time. It clung to the inside of Mitsuko's mouth. Made her tongue tingle.
The waitress posed her in the center. "Don't move, dear host." And then the woman stepped back, reaching for a silver mask. She presented the inside to Mitsuko.
Barely aware she noticed a moving black liquid, thick and slimy, on the interior.
"Put it on," the waitress said. The command washed over Mitsuko like a warm breeze. She reached out, took the offered mask and lifted it up. The black fluid reacted, stretched out into a phallic shape. And pressed against her mouth. Her lips parted, and the phallic tentacle pressed in.
The fluid slid in and coated her mouth. Pressed down into her throat.
A warmth spread through Mitsuko, her skin tingling.
It slid deeper into her. The fluid pressed against her. Spread over her face. She felt her cheeks grow hot, her breath hitching as the warmth enveloped her face, her head, her insides.
It covered everything.
Mitsuko closed her eyes and surrendered to the warmth, the pressure, the wetness. She moaned, and the sound was muffled, distorted by the thick, black fluid that coated her face and filled her.
The fluid pulsed. It moved inside her, sliding in and out of her throat, and Mitsuko could only moan again as she was penetrated by this strange, thick, wet thing that seemed to press into every corner of her body and soul. She felt it press against every nerve as liquid tentacles grabbed every inch of her body.
The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and Mitsuko felt her thoughts slip away into a hazy, blissful nothingness. She could no longer tell where the fluid began, and she ended, could no longer tell the difference between her skin, and this warm, wet thing that pressed into her, filled her, surrounded her.
Her pussy pulsed and spasmed, and her eyes rolled back into her skull as the fluid filled her mouth and throat, her ass, and pussy. She was no longer aware of the world around her.
Xel-Selene shuddered awake. The process was always disorientating, the taking of a new host body. The alien intelligence stretched her awareness. Her tentacles moved and squirmed inside and outside of her body. A smile stretched the lips on the human face. Xel-Selene, began to rearrange the hosts form. It molded the flesh and transformed the bones. It pushed and stretched, and tore the muscles until the form of a voluptuous bunnygirl had formed.
The human form had proven to be so malleable to the Xel-Naga's needs. Xel-Selene shuddered as the new nerves connected inside the unrecognizable body. Her species had been at the end. Near extinction. As parasites that needed hosts of a certain degree of sapiens, their pool of hosts had aw always been small. When their original host had died out, the few remaining Xel-Naga had entered stasis, and fled into the void.
The odds that they would find new host bodies, especially in such quantity and quality, were astronomical.
Xel-Selene stretched inside and outside her body. Her nerves tingled and a moan escaped her lips. She pushed her breasts out. The hard, black nipples stretched towards her fellow Xel-Naga. White droplets already falling.
"You look delectable, Xel-Selene," Xel-Larr said, her own costume stretched around the generous curves of her form. Her fellow Xel-Naga stepped forward, her movements slow, languid, her eyes fixed on Xel-Selene, who stood there in the center of the room. Xel-Selene shuddered as she felt her awareness spread throughout her host body. The Xel-Naga squirmed, and she felt the wetness of her milk gathering at the tips of her breasts.
"Thank you, Xel-Larr. This host has knowledge of the humans capabilities for war. And countermeasures to our plans," she replied, and the sound of her own voice was deep, throaty, the words vibrating in the air. She felt the pleasure her host enjoyed. The knowledge that it would serve the parasites well made her body tingle.
"Good. Very good," Xel-Larr purred as her eyes trailed over Xel-Selene's form.
"How is our Queen Mother," Xel-Selene asked, her tentacles wriggled with her need to meet the queen again.
"Still in stasis," Xel-Larr purred. She leaned closer, her breasts pressing against the new Xel-Naga, "We have yet to find a host for her."
Images of a statuesque blonde raced through Xel-Selene's mind. Mitsuko's memories of her Captain provided the Xel-Naga with the information it craved. Her Captain would make a perfect Queen. And the rest of the female crew would provide new hosts.
"We have the perfect host for her," Xel-Selene purred. "The best of humanity."
Xel-Selene followed Xel-Larr to the stasis chamber. While Mitsuko drowned in bliss, as she forgot who she was. Mitsuko was a host of the Xel-Naga. And it tasted wonderful.
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