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@stranger224
Getting Orginzied My own orignal writings:
#KinkyKaptions

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iCandy
A new store popped up at the mall and it caught Walter’s eye. It was a candy store not much different than any other candy store, except for one big difference, the help. The store was staffed with HOT chicks in skimpy uniforms. And here’s the best part, they were super friendly and talked to him real nice, even if it was obvious they were not very smart.
After graduation, Walter still kept his job at Pretzel Hut, but seemingly spent all his money in Mystic Sweets. He couldn’t justify the long conversations with Tawny or Danni without buying something while he tried to drink up their sexy cleavage.
Eventually his stockpile of candy out paced his earnings from Pretzel Hut. Dejected, Walter went into Mystic Sweets after his shift to talk to Tawny.
“Hey Sugar. Oooh, why you looking like you’re sad?” Tawny greeted Walter cheerfully.
Walter looked down embarrassed. Ruing the impending rejection. “I’m sorry Tawny, but I don’t have any money today. I keep buying candy in here to just talk to you, but I must talk a lot because I don’t have any money left AND they just cut my hours.”
Tawny gives Walter a genuine sympathetic pout and leans forward to pat his arm for comfort. Walter looks at her and can see right through her cleavage down to her skirt. OH GAWD! He LOVED this place! “Is there anything I could like do for you Sugar?”
“Oh I wish,” said Walter not taking his eyes off Tawny’s almost bare breasts. “I would do anything to work here. You guys are so nice and I love candy.”
Tawny giggled. “You sure Sugar?! Like that would be great!” Tawny stands and places Walter’s hand on her heart and hugs it while he gets a large handful of soft breast. “Danni and I are busy at the store, but we keep getting hounded for requests for deliveries. People seem excited about sampling our sweets at home. You can satisfy their sweet tooth! What do you say?” Tawny grabs Walter’s hands in both of her hands in a tight hug but waggles her half exposed breasts back and forth feeling herself up.
Walter almost creamed himself when Tawny ground his fingers into her hard nipple but did resist. “Yes. Please yes. Whatever you want. I promise.”
Tawny giggle again. “Oh that like totally makes my day, Sugar. Here.” Tawny retrieves a box of candy from the back room and hands it to Walter. “Sugar, you like need to take this home and familiarize yourself with each flavor. Your shift starts tomorrow.”
Walter was too shocked to say anything and left the store and went home. He set the orange and purple box on his bed then opened the lid. There were only a limited amount of candies in the box, buy the variety varied widely.
The first thing Walter picked up was a sour cherry ball. He popped it into his mouth and immediately his lips puckered. Eyes watered a bit but he kept the candy in his mouth like a trooper. The taste was very good, but the sourness puckered his lips terribly. They felt larger, almost swollen. Walter could even see the cherry color got all over his lips turning them a deep luscious red. Tired of the sourness and sucking, Walter tried to bite the candy. Severe pain coursed through his jaw, so he went back to sucking. The candy lasted for nearly 45 minutes with Walter sucking on it. Each suck became more and more pleasurable. Walter would never bite again if sucking was an option. When the candy was finally gone, Walter was sad to find out that was the only sour cherry ball in the box.
Next Walter chose a small wad of pink cotton candy. The sugar almost instantly dissolved on his tongue. The cotton candy tickled his brain, filled it with fun pink clouds. Thinking became difficult, but also unnecessary. Questions like ‘Who am I? Why am I doing this?’ became too difficult and frustrating to form, but other thoughts like ‘I like candy. Candy makes me happy.’ pushed its way to the forefront.
Next Walter grabbed the Milky White Chocolate Double-D-Light. He pushed the white treat past his cherry red lips only for him to clamp down on his own finger sucking both it and the chocolate sensually. The white milk chocolate melted slowly in his mouth. The sweet taste tingling his palate only to have that tingling sensation spread. The pleasure drove a b-line to his nipples as they grew hot and needy. Walter quickly shed his top and started rubbing circles around his hardening nipples. The pink cloud prevented Walter from questioning what’s happening, but encouraged him to enjoy it. Walter bit and sucked on his lip as he moaned and felt the weight of new soft fat filled flesh filling out on his hands. He cupped, pinched and tweaked his own titties turning himself on more and more.
The Milky White Chocolate Double-D-Light finally dissolved in his mouth leaving him hungry, but with two handfuls of perky Double D breasts. Walter quickly grabbed two pieces of candy, Cherry Pie and Black Cherry Pie Taffy. Two candies at once was too much for Walter and he came almost instantly while playing with his new soft titties. He took his gooey pants off just in time to see his flacid cock shrink down into a tiny little clitty, then in a quick burst, his hips flared out sexily and a hairless cleft cut though his crotch exposing his cherry pie. The thought was very exciting to her and she clenched her ass and that sent sexual thrills through the new candy girl.
Only one candy left, she grabs the Pink Passionfruit Gummi Bear. A sexual heat coursed through her body. She felt her hair grow and flow down her back. Her face softened and turned into that of a sexy model. Her ass filled out in all the right places and her legs smoothed out and gained sexy curves.
Unable to remember who she was, she struggled for her identity. The pink clouds fogging the new girl’s mind, she looked at her bed and saw what brought her such pleasure. Candy. “I am Candy!” With that epiphany, Candy dropped onto the bed. One hand on her tits and the other buried in her sweet, sweet pie.
At 11 am Candy woke up and showered. As she’s toweling off, Candy rubs herself to another sweet high. The doorbell rings and on the mat is a package from Tawny. Candy excitedly puts on her new uniform. It’s all in pink. Pink makes Candy happy. Pink makes Candy horny.
She feels ready for work when her phone pings. It is her iCandy App. She doesn’t know how it got on her phone, but such contemplation hurts her head. It is a cute fun app. All the letters seemed to be formed from candy and the boxes are all in pink. Pink makes Candy happy and horny. There is an address for a delivery.
Candy pouts her lips in confusion and texts Tawny.
Candy - “I like totes have a delivery, but I like don’t have anything to drop off.”
Tawny - “~Giggles~ Silly. He requested Candy. That’s totally you. Give him ALL your sweets!”
Candy is flush with excitement. - “Yes boss!”
Another amazing short story from @transfunmation. Especially good if you have a sweet tooth :p
MrGrey is one of the best bimbo authors imo.
An erotic fiction site I had not encountered… Puts the kettle on and settles down for a read…
Whoa whoa hold up is someone porting all of his old stories? He was one of the first authors I found doing bimbo transformation and I’d love a revisit for nostalgia purposes
You know...
When my husband first told me that he was into bigger girls, I thought that he was just body positive in a super cool accepting kinda way.
Gaining weight was easy but I was wasn't really into it at first. He sure as hell loved it though and before I knew it, I was up 30 pounds.
He said "It's *only* 30 pounds."
I was like nigga what kinda pork ass bitch you tryna turn me into?
A fat one. It turns out that 30 WAS a small number because after I pressured him about it I found out that he likes BIG girls. Like 600 pounds of couch filling lard mama. It was a thing I learned to work past.
Yeah, well fast the fuck forward 4 years and I'm a full blown feedee pushing 350 because what mister man didn't tell me was that he wasn't just making me bigger, he was turning my body into a giant tuning fork for sexual energy.
Now everything I do feels really wobbly and jiggly and my skin is SO fucking sensitive that if you squeeze my lower belly the right way I might have an orgasm. I'm food addicted as shit so I just wanna eat, and then it feels good so I get horny and ahhhhh what the fuck am I even gonna do with my life??
The descent into depravity is a slippery slope and there's none more emblematic of that, or of someone who embraced her corruption, like Stephanie. It's remarkable to go back and see how resistant she was to her change at the beginning. The boudoir photos were just for her, to help her feel sexy and confident in her skin. When she broke down and got her first implants, she swore up and down that it wouldn't change anything, that she was just doing it to even put her figure. But then the tops got tighter and lower cut, addicted to the rush of her views going up, the attention she got, finding herself embarrassingly and surprisingly aroused by the kinds of comments and attention her new tits were getting her. She had always gotten them to some degree, certainly; there isn't a woman on the internet who hasn't, but she had given them her tacit approval and as the necklines dropped and the CCs went up, there was no going back. It felt too good to be seen as what she was: an inflated fuckdoll, to be passed around at conventions and displayed for the pleasure of others.
One has to wonder if some small part of her knew at the very beginning, if she felt something awaken in her core that, deep down, she knew she'd never be able to resist. Another woman might have started more modestly, boosting her natural B cups to something at least somewhat reasonable, stopping at DDs and being satisfied. But Stephanie didn't. She went immediately for 700ccs, jumping six cup sizes to very obvious H cups. I wonder what her old self would think if she saw herself now, jiggling her tits for her adoring, masturbating fans, showing herself as an airheaded cocksucker. She's more than tripled the volume of her original set of implants, making them spherical and obviously fake to anyone who sees her. The overfilled, cocksucking lips let everyone know that her mouth is meant for sucking cock than it is for talking. It's already not enough for her. Her naturally wide and feminine hips, the ones her fake tits were meant to "balance out", are looking more and more like they'll be enhanced along with the rest of her.
And after that, who knows? Will she be able to stop her greed from dragging her deeper, the addicting thought of ever increasing volumes of silicone and saline? Can she find it in herself to stop craving the attention, the lust she's cultivated and made her career on, the feeling of being big, the intoxicating thought of countless fans touching themselves to her? Can she pull herself out of her descent into trading any semblance of normality for a life of pure porn?
And the real question: does she even want to?
I think @stephanies-huge-plastic-tits has found her purpose as porn tits and we should all be happy for her!

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Girl wakes up one morning as a fat bimbo and she fights so hard to hold on to the memories of her old self but she keeps getting distracted by thoughts of skimpy bikinis, ice cream and gangbangs.
Katrina’s eyes fluttered between wake and sleep as the alarm on her phone continued its dull chiming. She could just remember her dream. She was running on a beach like she normally did in the early mornings, she didn’t get this body by accident. She could almost feel the sand in-between her petite feet and the sweet intensity of her supple thighs as she ran. Like most of her dreams, she was naked, her slim figure had the beginnings of muscle underneath and her flat chest gave the impression of a young gymnast. She loved this kind of dream. She could run forever and never feel a burning in her legs or hear her lungs cry for air. The sun was setting to her left and save for her the beach was totally vacant. All was perfect.
But one can’t have good dreams all the time. As her never-ending run continued she saw a woman laying on the beach in front of her. She looked so familiar but Katrina couldn’t place her. She was certainly distinctive enough. Her skin was tan but creamy and her dark hair looked as though it moved according to its own will, unfettered by any sort of wind or gravity. Her eyes drew the most attention though, she didn’t have any. The were no sockets with missing parts nor any horrible scars, her skin covered where they should be and her face seemed to just be without them. “I need to eyes to see one so obvious as you, I am only here to enjoy your beach,” she said Katrina couldn’t recall actually speaking anything but this figment seemed to need no such input. “Poor thing, your body may not be tired but your spirit is long broken, isn’t it? Such fragile things you humans are.” Katrina still recalled speaking no words, and it wasn’t often that her dreams were so vivid. “Loneliness seems to enjoy your kind very much. Well, in exchange for this loverly beach, why don’t I make a change? It’ll be up to you if you accept it or not though. Regardless, I don’t think you or I will meet again. Try to enjoy this little one.”
The beach had vanished and all that was around was darkness and the irritating chime of her alarm. She clumsily batted her hand about her nightstand. Her movements felt slower and more taxing than she remembered. The alarm quieted and her arm went limp as she rolled onto her back. It might have been the hefty weight she felt on her chest or how much further her arm was propped up on her stomach, but something felt familiarly different about herself. Her eyes were half-lidded as she turned her legs that should have been filled with corded muscle over the side of the mattress. She felt her skin give and tug and pinch in places it shouldn’t. Her eyes opened and she expected to see her little feet sitting coldly on the floor, but they were obstructed by a cavernous valley of cleavage and a hill of fat behind them.
She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she waddled into her bathroom. Her enlarged stomach was in knots and her fingers were pale as they missed the doorknob the first time. When the door was opened and the brightness of the bathroom light left her eyes and she saw herself in the mirror she could see that her mouth was open in a scream but she couldn’t hear any sound come out. She looked like a horrible, vapid monster. Her lovely brown hair had become blonde and much much longer than her normal shortcut. Her tits, they could hardly be called anything else now, were obscene. Her old chest wasn’t turning any heads but it was her chest and she liked it. These funbags were the size of watermelons and seemed to be unnaturally perky, almost gravity defyingly firm. She encased one of her tits in both of her hands and they truly felt real, how could they be real? she thought. Her hands dropped like stones and struck her ponderous belly. It was as big as both of her tits combined, maybe even larger, and just as soft. She ran her hands across it and watched in the mirror as her digits sunk into her skin. Her eyes watered as she thought about her old stomach, flat and with the beginnings of visible abs. All gone now.
Her ass, her formerly best feature in her humble opinion, wasn’t spared and she turned around to observe the damage. Best to get it all over with, like a band-aid she thought. She almost didn’t need to look as she felt her naked ass brush past her tools hung on the opposite wall. She took in a sharp breath as the twin globes came into view. It was massive, easily bigger than her belly. Each cheek was a perfect copy of the other, both the size of medicine balls leading into thighs that could start a fire with the amount of friction they could produce. Her eyes darted all over as she gripped the countertop. Her fat lips were pursed together her vision was tunneling.
“Oh fuck! Keep it together, keep it together. This is a dream, nothing more,” Katrina said in a breathier voice. “I just, like, need to calm down. I should use one of my butt plugs, that always calms me…what?” That wasn’t true. I don’t even own any sex toys. Exercise always calms me down. It always has. She said nothing as she continued to study her new face. She hadn’t noticed before, but she was wearing makeup. Her lips were a bright pink and her eyes were smokey, her brow was carefully trimmed and her cheeks had color to them. How can I have makeup on? I just got out of bed. She raised a pink fingernailed hand to her lips and brushed their plumpness but none of the lipstick came off. “Oh my God, oh my God! It’s fucking tattooed on! Only whores do that! Like, what the fuck is happening?! I need to get help, I need to, like, call the fire department or something!”
Katrina felt the heat in her thighs, and other places, as they rubbed together on her walk to her doctor. She made herculean efforts to look nonchalant but she couldn’t help feeling the eyes of every person undress her as she walked. Her clothing didn’t help at all. Whatever happened to her wasn’t just limited to her body. Her closet was filled with G-strings, tube tops, thongs, bikinis, daisy duke shorts. It was impossible to find anything that didn’t scream “open for business”, her top was a white t-shirt riddled with holes that had a fine mesh underlay covering the skin beneath. The shirt was a deep v-neck style that left virtually every inch of cleavage exposed to the dry summer air. The shirt did nothing to hide her smooth belly and it sloshed and aver with every step. Her ass was poured into a pair of daisy dukes, as worn out as her shirt but minus the protective mesh. Each artificial tear felt like it was a mile wide. She wore no panties and no bra, she hoped it was due to the fact that with tits like these it would be crazy expensive. Her feet were still small and petite and she marveled as the five-inch heels held her weight unwaveringly.
As she walked her nervous gaze refused to stay put. Her hands fiddled with each other under her udders, apparently this new her didn’t carry a purse that she could use to occupy them. Instead, she was forced to slip her cards and cash in-between her fat tits. She focused so much on her friction caused by her items hidden in her flesh and the heat coming from between her thighs that the loud rumbling of her stomach caused her to jump. ‘Calm down, just like, stay calm’ she told herself. “I totally shoulda put in my butt plug,” her hand clung to her mouth as a young couple turned their heads at her comment as she passed. ‘Stop thinking about that junk, those aren’t your thoughts. You’re just like, sick or something.’ Her stomach thundered again. ‘Maybe if I eat something I’ll feel better. Yeah, that can happen. I just need more food in my system then I’ll be fine.’
Ordinarily, Katrina never paid food vendor’s near the beach no mind. All they ever had was deep fried foods and sugary soda’s. But as her stomach began to painfully rumble she felt she had little choice. It was still fairly early but there was no shortage of vendors taking advantage and families and beachgoers enjoying the foods. The line was so thick that Katrina couldn’t even tell what stand she was headed for. The heat of the sun began to take its toll on her and her creamy skin developed a shine. She absentmindedly rubbed her belly as she stood, for the first time taking note of the smoothness her skin still had. Most overweight people she knew about didn’t look this good. She shook her head trying to chase the thought away. ‘I’m not fat, this all just some sorta allergic reaction to gluten or something. And the clothes are…uh, it must be laundry day.’
She looked around her and saw even more eyes on her fat tits and as she turned her head more still stared at her huge ass. Her eyes teared up again. ‘They all must think I’m so gross.’ She thought as much until she saw a young man beside her in another line staring. His gaze was focused solely on her rotund bottom. His skin was flushed and he was readjusting his shorts several times. ‘Was he getting off on my booty?’ she thought. How could anyone like her fat body? He was pretty cute though. She was always on the shy side of things and only ever had a couple of boyfriends. Then her insecurities kicked in and they never lasted long after that.
“Hey, hot stuff? What can I get ya?” she heard coming from her front. She blushed, how long was she staring at that hot guy? She quickly toddled up to the vendor, a young man who didn’t look so bad either. “Yeah, um…what do you sell again?” Katrina said blushing at not knowing what he sold. The young man smiled and looked her up and down, “hot dogs and ice cream sweetie.”“Oh! I love hot dogs! Do you have any cream filled ones?” Katrina exclaimed. She did like to indulge now and again and she did love cream cheese dogs.“Sorry Cutie, I’ve only got the one and it isn’t for sale.” Katrina blushed, she had been totally oblivious to her little language faux pas. “I’ll take two, and a vanilla cone please.”
Her stomach refused to stop growling after the first dog but seemed like it was sated a little as the second slid down her throat. The sun was high and she licked her ice cream diligently as she watched the beachgoers. Women in bikinis walked past her, why didn’t I wear mine? she thought. I look like such a prude, how can I expect to snare me a couple…No! No these thoughts aren’t mine! They’re not! But as she told herself this she felt the dripping of her cold ice cream snake its way into her cleavage. The tingling cold caused her to dance in place as she tried to massage the cold fluid out of her expanse of flesh.
This drew a sizable crowd of young men around her that she was oblivious to. One of the bolder men drew closer and began popping his hips in Katrina’s direction, another followed him and soon a dance party broke out around her. Men gyrated into her behind and thrust into her belly. She was assaulted by the sweet smell of sweaty young men and their subtle touches were driving her to distraction. There was so much going on around her, it was so hard to focus. She felt so hot. She felt so needy. A thrust from behind her caused her to fall to her knees. The smell was even stronger down here. She crawled trying to get away from the frenzy when her hand caught on a pair of swim trunks belonging to a young red-headed boy. He frantically tried to recover his nudity, but Katrina was mesmerized. She acted on instinct and swallowed the young man’s cock into her pink mouth. She bobbed her head so vigorously that her breasts, her belly, and her ass jiggled nonstop. The young man was not known for his stamina and he rapidly approached climax. As the first glob of delicious cum struck her throat and made its way into her stomach, Trina was just happy she finally got her cream filled sausage.
The end. Hope Y’all like it!
“Really, Caleigh? That’s what you’re going to wear to the most important dinner of my professional life?”
Caleigh sighed, “What’s wrong with this sweater? It’s cute”.
Nick was a little on edge to say the least. Tonight, Nick was able to schedule a dinner with Mr. Connor, the President of a booming robotics company. If this went well, he would be the front-runner for the Executive VP opening. Nick had heard the rumours about Mr. Connor; apparently, the guy fancied himself a player. He had no issues with flirting with the wives and girlfriends of his employees. A good looking girlfriend that isn’t opposed to a little flirting could go a long way toward helping someone get in Mr. Connor’s good graces.
Now, Caleigh was an attractive girl but being flirty wasn’t exactly her strong suit. Nick had explained the plan to her: look cute, be bubbly, show a little skin and giggle at Mr. Connor’s bad jokes and play into any advances he might make. Nick even bought Caleigh a new designer dress just for the occasion.
“Where’s the dress I got you?” Nick was trying not to lose his cool with his girlfriend, “I didn’t buy you a 600 dollar dress for it could sit in your closet.”
He has a point, Caleigh thought to herself as she took the dress out of the closet. She was beginning to wonder why she even agreed to go through with this, “It’s a little low-cut, don’t you think?” They both knew the answer. And short, she continued in her mind, and a little skanky.
“Just put it on, please,” Nick was really starting to lose his patience, “This is apparently the latest and greatest trend in fashion and technology.” Nick pulled out his phone to check the time, “We have less than an hour to get there. Just do this for me, okay?”
Caleigh relented and put the dress on, “Nick, this isn’t me at all. It’s too tight and skimpy. People are going to judge, “she paused for a second to try and adjust the dress, “and what the heck does technology have to do with this dress?” Caleigh tugged at the bottom of the dress in an attempt to cover herself up.
Nick looked up from his phone, “This”. He hit a button on his phone and, all of a sudden, Caleigh was completely frozen in place as if she was put on pause. “I’m sorry to have to do this, babe, but you didn’t give me much of a choice. A guy in the R&D department at work showed me this and I had him put it into your dress. You see, there are nanites in the dress that allow me to use this app to make a whole bunch of modifications to both the item and the wearer.”
Looking back at app on his phone, Nick started to alter the dress. He made it even shorter than Caleigh would have ever allowed for the naughtiest of her lingerie; he then added halter straps and a figure-accentuating belt. He also gave Caleigh some large pink hoop earrings and a colourful bangle to show off her soon-to-be new-found playfulness.
“That outfit is perfect,” Nick said to his helpless girlfriend. “I’m not sure how aware you are of what’s happening but, if you are in there, I am really sorry for what I have to do next.”
Nick switched to the “Wearer” screen on the app and a small image of Caleigh came up along with some character traits. A small part of him felt guilty for this; he knew he could stop now and there would still be a chance that she’d forgive him but he really needed this dinner to go well. If nothing else, the increase in pay might be enough to buy Caleigh’s forgiveness.
Nick reasoned to himself that, if he made Caleigh’s mental changes first, she might not even remember the physical ones. With that, he began to make his adjustments. The first was to drop her IQ down to 88, which was his lucky number and made her dumb and ditzy enough to giggle at just about everything Mr. Connor said. He then doubled her sex drive and playfulness while also making her as flirtatious as the app would allow.
He took another look at Caleigh and was satisfied that, even if she was still in there, the new her would love what was about to happen. Switching over to the “Physical” portion of the app, Nick began transforming his naturally pretty girlfriend into a complete bimbo fuckdoll. He swelled her modest B-cup breasts to cartoonish H-cup tits. He proceeded to inflate her butt as well to give her that Jessica Rabbit-esque look on her already tiny waist.
He lengthened her hair enough to ensure it would go down to her ass and added some curls. He then plumped up her lips so much that he was sure she’d probably end up talking with a lisp. Finally, he changed her eyes to make them look large and vacant. Once he was content with her appearance, he used the app to reapply her make-up with a look fitting for a porn star.
Nick looked at the new and improved Caleigh; a version of her that was previously only possible in his dirtiest dreams and instantly felt the front of his pants tighten. He had fantasized about his somewhat-prudish girlfriend becoming a total bimbo, but now his dreams were a reality.
“I promise that I’ll fix everything once this is over. And, once I get this job, I owe you one very romantic vacation… but, in the meantime, we still have 20 minutes and,” Nick stepped toward the still-frozen-in-place bimbo in front of him, “I think I need to relax a bit before this dinner.”
Nick parted his girlfriend’s lips into an inviting O-shape. In her current state, Caleigh appeared as nothing more than a living blow-up doll. A thought popped into his head to use the app to change Caleigh’s name to something more suitable like Cici. He would do that but, first, there was a more pressing need. Nick undid his pants, lowered Cici onto her knees and used his new bimbo like the doll she was. After cumming all over Cici’s perfectly rounded mouth and wiping it clean, Nick grabbed his phone and unfroze Cici.
“Hi baby!! I’m like soooo excited to go to dinner with you. Do you want me to suck Mr. Connor’s cock? I bet he’d give you the job then!” Cici asked with so much enthusiasm that Nick couldn’t help but chuckle. It might not be the worst idea, he thought to himself.
On the way to dinner, Nick wondered what Mr. Connor would think of his girlfriend. If she was a hit at dinner, maybe he’d have to change her back like this again. Or, as he glanced at Cici fondling herself in the car, maybe he’d never change her back at all.
H- hi... Um... I'm a shy little mousy nerd girl, petite and flat, but I wanna be a sexy bimbo silicone queen so bad!! Big pumped up super fake tits- really huge round globes! Huge ass and hips that are obviously implants, some big fat cock sucking lips so pumped full of silicone that I can't close them all the way, facial fillers to become the ultimate walking personification of a really stupid vapid plastic bimbo... Your writing gets me so hot... Please please help me!! Please!
This is another mashup for Anon here and @maxamillionsaberhagen. Hope you two enjoy it.
Hmm, I’m not so sure I believe you, little one. Does my writing genuinely get you hot? That’s nice to hear but you never really know if a person means it. I could get any one of my compatriots to do this I suppose. Gale the Jinn would leap at the opportunity, but she would be a little too eager in breaking you in I think. I don’t think I even want Paprika hearing about this one. She’d change you and then it’ll take forever for her to rein it in. Saveta I don’t think is proactive enough for this, and with her sense of direction, she’d take forever to get there. You know what, I’ll just handle this one myself. It’s not like I don’t have the power. But still, I’m a bit of a self-deprecator and that bit about my writing making you hot just kind of bugs me. I’d love it if it were true. So I think before I start doing anything, you’re going to need to pass a little test.
So many people want things, it’s in our nature. But few are really willing to work for it. That’s what you’re going to do. I know you’re shy, I understand that very well, so this is going to be quite difficult for you. But nothing worth having is easy. I’ve taken the liberty of perusing your clothing selection, nothing to write home about I’d say. I mean you don’t even have racy underwear for God’s sake. Well here comes you’re first labor, throw it all out. Everything. I don’t want a single piece of your old wardrobe in your house in an hour, and yes that includes what you have on right now. I know going naked is terrifying, but you wont be that way for long. No I’m not going to magic clothes onto you, that would be too easy. You are going to walk, yes walk, to your nearest lingerie store. Of course people will see you, people are going to see that lean childish body of yours. Don’t worry though, no one will call the police or report you. The thought won’t even occur to them. But the will still see you, and that’s what matters. Do bimbos care if people see them naked? Of course they do! It’s the thing they love most. What is a bimbo if she covers herself? That’s right, nothing. That’s it, take it all off. Especially those granny panties, Jeez.
Alright you’re at the door. I can see the nerves bundling under your skin. I know it’s scary. Seeing all those eyes looking at you, but just remember what you’re doing this for. You’re doing this to finally be the real you. That’s it, grasp the knob. Both hands if you need it. Now pull, and feel that sweet breeze on your skin. That’s freedom, for the first time that body of yours can really taste it right? Those nips of yours? Hard enough to cut diamonds if I’m any judge. It aint even cold out. Oh look, your neighbor is out in the garden. How old is he again, sixty? Well why don’t you give him a wave? That’s it. Damn, you could see his eyes bug out from space. Now now, don’t start covering up. I know it’s embarrassing, but if you can’t be proud of your nakedness then there’s no point in continuing. Good, keep those arms at your side. It’s a good thing you live in the city, the shop is only about a mile away. Oh yes it is, you’ve just never been there before. Don’t worry, I think you’ll become a real regular. You’ll be on your own from here, I can’t hold your hand the whole way or it wouldn’t be a test would it? Just remember, one foot in front of the other and you’ll be there in no time.
****************************
One foot in front of the other. That’s what keeps playing in your mind as you walk. Ever single pace you hear people gasp, gawking at your gangly form. Every single inch fills your mind with second guesses. The concrete sidewalk freezes your feet in the shade and blisters them in the sun. You walk almost on auto-pilot, focused on the image of yourself as you hopefully go to meet your fate. So far what was promised held true. People gawked and stared, but none drew out their phones and took pictures nor called the police on you. But they can all see everything you had spent your life trying to hide.
There went the school bus. All the children had their faces fused to the glass taking in the full view of your scrawny form as you rounded the corner, finally coming face to face with the store. It was called Riské, of course it was. This was the one, the one place you tried to excise your inner bimbo on your own. It seemed like the perfect place, it only just clothing after all. But of course you were misinformed, the walls were coated in toy after toy and many outfits of the most extreme sexual nature. It, of course, resulted in miserable failure, you could barely speak a coherent sentence to the clerk, and you just left in tears. It’s even the same clerk, but things are different today aren’t they?
“Whoa! What are you doing lady? This might be a sex shop but you can’t just walk in her naked like that!” the young clerk says. She couldn’t be more than twenty-one. She certainly dresses like she works here. That skirt is so short it might as well be a frilled belt. Standing next to such a sexual woman before made you feel so intimidated, so small. But I am a writhing mass of tentacles from the darkest pit of the universe of my word, and before you can speak, a sensation comes over your skin and it feels as though cold needles are penetrating your brain. It feels like microscopic tendrils are digging underneath your skin, loosening it. Your thoughts of humiliation and embarrassment dissipate into thin air. Your face slackens and your eyes take on a content peace. The clerk grapes her counter, confused and fascinated as your eyes roll into the back of your head and the writhing under your skin intensifies.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think that this should hurt. It sounds like such a far away thought, you can barely hear it. There isn’t any pain though, consider it a gift. Every single nerve in your forming body now only serves one purpose. To give you pleasure. The weakest breeze feels like a finger in your twat. The sharpest pain feels like a lovers kiss on your clitoris. Your pathetic breasts begin to heat up and expand outward. The clerk observes with unblinking eyes as perfect globes of flesh push their way out of your pathetic A-cups, almost in defiance of your small frame. Your torso jumps forward as if you were being fucked from behind and more breast is released, then again. Your mouth hangs open. Any thoughts are driven away by the overdose of pleasure sensations every cell in your body is sending to your brain. Your breasts are huge, like two basketball halves, and they bare the same shape. Like perfect, firm bowls made of skin. They were not even attempting to appear real, though there were no visible scars to suggest surgery.
You start moaning, your tongue strikes about wildly unable to be contained by your slack jaw. Your hands grab your firm, rubbish feeling tits and your knees nearly collide with the dirty floor. The clerk rises just enough to keep your shifting body in view. Her hands practically wore the countertop through as she watches your next phase of your perfection. Your breasts, finally acceptable, freed up some of my tendrils. Now all your changes begin in earnest. Your hips are going to look fantastic. Even now they fill with silicone widening them in such a wonderfully unnatural fashion. And that boney ass of yours is the simplest of all. You reflexively begin twerking as your ass fills out and looks like a filled plastic bag. Your ass is far and away your most noticeable feature now, I wouldn’t be surprised if you caused a few heart attacks and car accidents. Now lets fix that face. Those lips aren’t suitable at all, it’s a good thing you can’t seem to keep that mouth closed. Your thin, unpainted lips surge with collagen. Permanent collagen, by the way. They plump up so much, I fear I may have gone to far. You seemed to have a problem keeping it closed before, but now I believe it’s physically impossible to keep that mouth closed with those lips. I’m sure you won’t mind though.
A lift there, a tuck here, and I dare say you look positively adorable. I hope you don’t mind that I used Barbie as a model, but then again I don’t think you mind anything anymore. Your tongue enthusiastically licks your permanently pink lips, your welcome, and your hands busy themselves supporting your new weight as your grind your fat ass into the ground. I’d be careful; if you don’t play your cards right, you might overdose on pleasure. If such a thing was possible. That clerk is turned on you know. She’s a kinky little mink. Pity she can’t see me, I so rarely get to play with my creations. Well, I held up my promise, I do hope you enjoy yourself. Not that you can do otherwise anymore. Ta ta.
*********************
The clerk stared at the crazy exhibitionist, wracking her brain trying to find an explanation for what she just saw. She must’ve been a witch or a magician or something. Yeah, that makes just about enough sense. She must’ve had a camera on her, and she was naked so people couldn’t claim it was a suit or something. “Hey, uh…that was a cool trick and all, but you can’t just hang around naked. Not that I mind or anything, but unless you’re gonna buy something—”“OMG! Like tots! I wanna buy clothes and junk! Got any rubber stuffs? I got rid of all my boring junk and shit. Can I get a rubber tube top? Prettyprettyprettyprettypretty please?? I don’t got like, any money, but you can totally use any of these cool toys on me until I work it off. Like, waitaminute! We should tots do that instead! Pretty please fuck me silly? Pretty please?”
The End. Hope Y’all like it!
daddied in public
We were waiting for the train and I was being incessantly pouty because he wouldn’t let me go to the other side of the city to retrieve a pair of boots I keep at the office. They’re super sexy and I wanted to wear them, but we had plans and no time to rearrange our commute. His logic was sound, but being told no still made me feel a wee bit petulant.
He tolerated it for a bit, but then he gave me The Look. You know the look I’m talking about. It’s also called the Careful, Young Lady look, or the You’re Pushing It look. Whenever I’m on the receiving end of it, I get squirmy and immediately feel tiny. I buried my face into his chest. I do that a lot when I’m in trouble or being chastised; I leaned into him as if snuggles were going to save me from a spanking. I mumbled sorry into his shirt and he said, “sorry, what?” I hesitated, not expecting him to prompt me in public, even though the subway platform was mostly empty. “Sorry daddy,” I said. I felt myself starting to throb.
On another day, we were in Zara and I couldn’t decide between two tops. I really wanted them both. I help one up, stared at it longingly, and looked at him. “I can have both?” I asked. I expected either a yes or no, but he said, “How do you ask permission for something?” My eyes widened. The store was busy enough that it would’ve been easy to be overheard. People pushed past us every couple seconds.
“But we’re in public,” I protested.
The look on his face made it very clear that he didn’t care.
“May I have both, please?” I whispered. He didn’t make me call him ‘sir’ or ‘daddy’, but I still felt like I’d been reminded of my place.
I got to have both tops.
When he daddies me in public like that, it’s always a pleasant surprise. It pulls me out of whatever distracted headspace I’m in and anchors me. Goes without saying that it’s hot as hell, too. I’m still getting used to being mindful of my behavior outside of the bedroom. It’s not that I forget I’m his submissive when we’re out and about; I just don’t usually make a conscious effort to behave like his submissive when we’re not behind closed doors.
It’s a good thing, then, that he’s there to remind me of exactly who and what I am.
He’s there to remind me that, no matter where we are, I remain firmly under his thumb.
Love this
Omg this is wonderful 💖💗💖
Let's play a game where you get to feed me as many drinks and gummies as you want, and all I have to do is act sober. That's it. If I can make it the night without anybody figuring out how fucked up I am, I win! But if someone suspects, then you win. But I'm warning you now, I'm really good at this game. Sure, I can't always quite remember how it ends, but I know I always win!
You shove a glass into my hand. “Drink.”
I do. I drain the glass, hand it back over to you, and rejoin the party.
“Drink,” you say some time later, handing me a shot.
And I do.
“Here,” you say later still, handing me a gummy. I pop it into my mouth before returning to my friends.
I’m relaxed and floaty. Sure, conversation may be flowing more easily than when I’m sober, but everyone’s drinking; surely no one suspects anything out of the ordinary.
You wordlessly hand me a glass as I pass by. I drink it quickly, eager to get back to my friends. Wow, that was strong.
I giggle. I’m having so much fun! You come over to check on me. Maybe I lean against you a bit too much, but nobody says anything. You drop another gummy in the palm of my hand, and I’m sooooo stealthy when I pop it in my mouth.
I’m feeling kinda spinny, but I play it cool. My friends are so awesome; have I told them how awesome they are? You hand me another shot on my way to the bathroom, and I have to pee so bad that I slam it back. Wow, that was really strong! And much bigger than I was expecting. I stumble off to the bathroom and have to hold onto the wall on the way back. I have a massive smile plastered on my face, and I can’t seem to wipe it off. I’m just having such a great time, you know? Nothing to see here!
Words are getting hard, but if I speak slowly and don’t talk that much, nobody will notice. See, my friends don’t suspect a thing. They’re tipsy, too, and we’re all having fun!
We’re sitting on the sofa now. Why? Well, we were getting tired of standing. It’s definitely not because I was having trouble staying upright. Sure, I don’t quite remember how we got here, but I know there’s no way I needed help.
You come back over to check on my again. I missed you! We’re having a great time! You tell me that people are talking about me, saying that I might have overindulged just a little...but there's no way! I haven’t had that much to drink…I’m practically sober! If I seem giggly, it's just because I'm having fun with my friends!
You give me another drink, right in front of all my friends. I'm a bit shocked--I thought the whole point was that all these drinks were supposed to be a secret--but hey, since I'm practically sober anyway, I'm sure no one will think twice of it.
It's a super yummy drink, too. I must have drunk it too fast, though, because now I have the hiccups. I'm not drunk, though! You don't have to be drunk to have the hiccups. Well...maybe I'm a little tipsy. Hey, why don't we cuddle a little? Not because my head's spinning or anything, just because...well, I like you.
Suddenly, everyone around us is laughing. I'm not quite sure why, but you tell me that they're laughing at...me? Why would they be laughing at me? I'm stone-cold sober. Yes, even despite the hiccups...and the giggling. I've only had one drink! Ok, maybe two. But that's it!
You tell me that I should prove that I'm sober by going around and convincing everybody. What a great idea! And if the room spins when I stand up, well, that's just because I've been sitting too long.
You take me around to all the guests so I can chat with them. And you know what? They all agree that I'm sh-sober! That means I'm still winning!
I giggle as I bump into a wall. Whoopsie! Was that wall always there?
You hand me another drink because I'm just so sober. It goes down so easy. You always take such good care of me...
Time passes. I'm sitting on the floor. My tits are out. I'm not sure how I got here. Suddenly, you’re standing over me, and I’m so happy to see you. You help me up, telling me it’s time to go home. You say that there’s a prize waiting for me for doing such a good job with our little game. I giggle again. I can’t wait!

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Real life intox scenario 22 (THE LAST ONE):
I told this story before on my last intox blog, but it’s a doozy, so I’ll tell it again.
I traveled to the Caribbean not quite 10 years ago with my mom and a group of her friends. One of her friends owned a house out there, and she was “married” (legally but I think not romantically) to a citizen, so she had a whole network of friends and cousins and friends of cousins out there.
This particular friend of my mom’s is a wild one. Even though she was in her 50s, she wanted to go out to the club one night. Of course I wanted to go with, but none of the other moms did. So it ended up being me and her and her husbands cousin and one of his friends, Giovanni.
Giovanni was a hot as FUCK Caribbean dude oh my god, so tanned and muscular. And I was a shy little gringa, but my mom’s friend bought me mojitos and got me to turn around and grind on him when we were dancing and cheered me on.
Like five mojitos later, we left the club. My memory is hazy but I know we stopped by a gas station on the way to the beach to buy a bottle of rum. Giovani was driving, I don’t think he was sober but I didn’t care. We sat on the beach and drank rum and tried to chat but I spoke like 10 words of Spanish and him 10 words of English so we couldn’t say much, not to mention we were both drunk. So of course we ended up just making out on the beach while swigging from little plastic cups of rum. Meanwhile my mom’s friend was making out with her husband’s cousin right next to us.
After a while Giovani took me back to his car, I was nonstop giggling and could barely walk. He threw me down in the backseat and started feeling me up. He wanted to get at my tits but couldn’t reach up my dress because it was tight. I was too drunk and laughing too hard to explain there was a zipper on the back of my dress.
He fucked me really hard while I giggled like a drunk maniac. I’ve never been stretched like that, it was like eight inches long and thick as fuck. When he was about to cum he pulled out (smart, I had no way of telling him I was on birth control because we didn’t share a language, but extremely stupid that I let him fuck me raw no condom like six hours after meeting him).
When he pulled out I immediately slid out of the car and dropped to my knees in the sand to slobber all over his cock sloppy style. He let me finish him that way.
He dropped me off at my Airbnb at like 5am. My mom didn’t say anything so I thought I was slick—like five years later she told me she heard me come in but didn’t want to give me a hard time while on vacation. The next day we all went on a hike and I had to pretend not to be still super drunk/hungover. Then we ran into the cousin and Giovani on the trail and we had to smile and exchange pleasantries as though he hadn’t turned my drunk pussy inside out for hours the night before.
I still felt the stretch in my cunt two days later when we boarded the plane home.
Most effective "first assignment" you've been given by a Dom/Domme?
Actually a good question… Really, I’m a sucker for even very simple things that show that I’m not in charge anymore - it doesn’t have to be some crazy task, it can be as simple as being told what to wear and how to behave. I have very fond memories of a former partner giving me a task that was actually fairly simple, if something I hated the thought of: He would come over that evening. I would be kneeling by the door, in this tight little skirt and top. I would be in stockings and heels. I would not be wearing any knickers. Red lips, dark eyes. I would not say anything when he came in - I would crawl behind him until he sat down. Then, I would get up, fetch him a drink (slowly, mind you - so he could enjoy the sight). I would bring it back, and my first words of the evening would be:May your slut sit in your lap, Sir?And my reward for this - which I was not told in advance - was the ‘privilege’ of sucking him off.I’m sure that’s actually fairly tame by Tumblr’s standards, but for me, it was a wonderful start to the evening. I do enjoy a good struggle, so to start the evening by being reduced to basically… A dressed-up tart of a plaything meant that there was just nowhere to go but deeper down. As far as your question of ‘effective’ goes, I’d put it pretty high up there, despite its relative simplicity.…And yes, we did go deeper down. But those details are secret for now.
Katherine had been a new hire at some blink-and-you'll-forget-it new age spiritualist shop, Magical Journeys. One dedicated to things like mystic herbs, potioncraft, and magic crystals; things that the bespectacled redhead didn't put any weight in. She was only there because it was simply the only place to respond to her application.
Most days, it was effectively dead, leaving Katherine time to rest by the register. Another day, another eight hours of boredom, the redhead mused as she lit a joint and took a long draft from it. "Who knew being a witch would be so boring!" She quietly grumbled to herself. "Certainly doesn't help that most people know magic isn't real." She said as she held a fistful of crystals in the palm of her hand.
As Katherine released the plume of weed smoke, the crystals in her hand instantly grew warm. Her eyes fluttered as her body felt like she was being bathed in sunlight while her mind felt fuzzy, like her very thoughts became TV static. When she had the strength to open her eyes, the rake-thin redhead saw how her body had changed. She had grown and ballooned outwards:
Her thighs had softened and thickened to nearly three times reducing her flowing skirt into a microskirt that barely covered her ass. Speaking of which, her asscheeks were bigger than basketballs, effortlessly swallowing and turning her lace panties into a thong. Her belly was soft and fat, spilling over her waistband, filling her lap, and giving her a set of plump lovehandles. Finally, her cute green top was stretched beyond all measure as her tiny B cups swelled to what had to, at least, be the size of a HH cup. HOLY SHIT!!! I'M LIKE, A TOTAL FUCKING BABE! Katherine mused as she squeezed her breasts together.
She stared at her reflection, tracing her tongue over her glossy, pink, plump cockpillows as tingling pleasure slowly faded from her mind. A part of Katherine knew she should tell someone to get help and transform back to her real self. But a bigger, louder, hornier part of her made her hold onto the gems in her hand and take another drag of the shop's unique and proprietary blend. If for no other reason than to see if she'd grow again.
Not like I was, like, y'know using my silly brain. Big boys totally, like, like slutty girls with a fat ass and juicy tits! Katie mused as she felt that same heat rush through her as her mind was pulled deeper into the fuzzy static than before.
Be the good little pet your owner would be proud off to show off to his wealthy high educated friends.
You used to be so proud of yourself… So proud, and so smart, and so clever, but that doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters, now. It doesn’t matter what he tells you to call him, call his friends, call yourself. You can hear your silly, slutty mouth say the words before your little brain can catch up through the fog. You can hear the submission. It doesn’t matter what he tells you to wear. You can see how they’re all dressed, how you’re dressed, how silly you look in front of them, but you put on your little pink tutu and followed him. You can see your humiliation. It doesn’t matter what he tells you to do. You can feel your body move without your brain, feel it pose and prance, feel it sit and suck, a pretty trophy and a pretty toy rolled into one. You can feel your degradation. He touches you, gropes you, treats you like a thing, and you drip. He sits you in his lap, tells them what you were, recounts what he did, and you drip. He makes you thank him, and you drip. Makes you admit your helplessness, and you drip. Makes you beg, you drip. You can’t tell whether you love it or hate it. All you can tell is how wet you are, how needy, how broken. All those things you used to be… Those things don’t matter now. Why be proud when you can be submissive? Why be smart when you can be dumb and humiliated? Why be clever when you can be a degraded bimbo? A doll? A wet, needy, broken doll? It doesn’t matter. None of the questions matter, because you don’t need to answer them. All you need to say is what he tells you to say. All you need to be is what he tells you to be. Hate it. Love it. Say it. Be it.
As she saw the little video of the shameless woman, A’s face burned. Her jeans were suddenly soaked at the crotch. She squeezed her thighs together and felt her clit pulse.
She looked around the quiet office. She leanet down and unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk. Inside were the heavy dildo and the pink collar. She grabbed both, shoved them into her tote and stood, legs shaking with need.
The executive bathroom lock clicked. She set the pink BIMBO collar on the edge of the sink, kicked off her shoes, shoved her jeans and panties down to her ankles, and leaned back against the cool wall. She'd been so good at resisting. She could stop now, but she picked up the collar. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle for a second, then it clicked shut around her neck. It was so easy once she was collared. She spat on the fat head of the toy, lined it up, and pushed the thick length straight into her dripping pussy in one long, greedy thrust.
The stretch made her eyes roll. She started fucking herself hard, angling so the head dragged over that perfect spot with every stroke.
Her face smoothed. The lines around her eyes faded. She looked younger, fresher. Her hair slipped out of its clip and fell longer, shinier. Her mind fogged at the edges; what she’d been researching simply vanished.
She didn’t stop.
Her ass rounded out , hips widening with a soft, wet pop.
The buttons on her blouse pulled tight. The blouse gaped, fabric stretched by her new curves. She caught her reflection in the mirror and froze for a second.
She looked… incredible. A hot, busty MILF version of herself. Mature, sexy, the kind of woman who made people stare in meetings. The blouse framed her massive tits perfectly. A much rounder, juicier ass. She could stop here. Pull down the blouse so it was less obscene, pull her jeans back up, walk back to her desk looking like this.
Her pussy clenched hard around the dildo without her permission.
The pleasure spiked white-hot and the thought dissolved.
“Fuck… just… a little more,” she whimpered, and kept thrusting. She wanted to be trashy. Obscene. Perfect.
Her mind was slowing down fast. Big words were slipping away. She couldn’t remember why any of this had seemed important. The buttons on her blouse then popped open one by one with soft ping sounds. Heavy, round tits spilled forward, now easily E-cups and still growing.
She was so wet now the dildo made loud, messy sounds every time she slammed it home. Her new huge tits bounced and swayed with every thrust, nipples fat and aching.
Her tits surged again, blowing past any reasonable size into full, heavy, natural H-cups that dominated her chest. Her waist cinched in dramatically. Her ass ballooned into a perfect, wobbling bubble butt just like in the video, as her jeans on the floor shrank to a tiny trashy denim thong. Her legs lengthened and toned. Her shoes lifted into towering clear platform stripper heels that forced her into an exaggerated arch. Her hair turned platinum blonde and exploded into thick, glossy waves. Her face shifted dumber, sluttier: big vacant eyes, high cheekbones, lips that looked injected and permanently glossy. Heavy makeup appeared like it had been painted on by invisible hands. The pink BIMBO collar sat proudly around her throat like it had always belonged there.
Her thoughts emptied out completely. Everything that had made her A — the career, the sharpness, the deadlines, the reputation — was fucked out. Replaced by pink static and one single, overwhelming need.
She came with a broken, high-pitched moan, squirting around the dildo so hard it splashed the floor. Her new bimbo body shook and trembled through the orgasm, the collar tight around her throat.
When the aftershocks faded, A was gone.
B stared back from the mirror on wobbly platform heels. She was built like pure sex, and wearing nothing but towering clear platforms, and the bright pink collar that said BIMBO in bold letters.
She slowly pulled the dripping toy from her still-twitching cunt, licked it clean without thinking, then touched the collar at her throat and giggled.
“Like… omigod,” she breathed, voice pure bubblegum and sex. “It’s so perfect. I got dumber and hotter and now I’m, like, totally B. Teehee!”
She turned sideways, stuck her tongue out, and took a selfie in the mirror — collar visible, one hand squeezing her own massive tit.
Then she dropped the dildo back into her sparkly pink bag and headed for the door on those impossible heels.
She didn’t remember her old name. She didn’t remember her job. She only knew she was B now — the busty sexy bimboslut in the pink BIMBO collar — and that she needed to find a real cock to finish what the toy had started.
Maybe Joe was still online.
B was ready to play.
Oh you know exactly how to get under my skin! ❤️🔥
I still have one more busy week in front of me, then hopefully I’ll have some time to write you back properly. I love your story above and one detail (that is in most of your stories) just hit me differently today and struck a nerve and inspired me to do a modern twist on an old classic. Hopefully in a week I will remember and can get you a fun story to push your buttons too.
Thank you A/B. 💖

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CW / AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Please please for Christ's sake don't skip this section, I'm begging you.
This story is obviously fiction. It is *very dark* fiction. Our lead character, Julia, is a VILLAIN PROTAGONIST. She's a sadist and a sociopath. Just because she is mostly the point of view character it does NOT mean she somehow represents the author. Depiction and approval are different things.
It might seem obvious but I've seen too many people idolizing Patrick Bateman after reading / watching American Psycho to leave what I feel should be clear unsaid.
If you feel in any way that reading this text might have any negative impact on your emotions or mental health, please skip this one. There's plenty of other stories here.
CW: Noncon, corruption, psychological and physical sadism, anal, betrayal.
I - Emptiness
For as long as she could remember, Julia knew there was something missing inside her. What that was, she couldn’t rightfully say. It didn’t even bother her that much most of the time- hell, if anything, it had helped her career immensely, showering her with promotion after promotion even at her relatively young age.
Julia had gained a reputation for being able to make the tough calls, for efficiently breaking the bad news. She was aware there was an undercurrent of judgement behind those corporate terms. The tough calls were invariably cutting this or that department, eliminating these redundant positions, downsizing that sector. The stated reasons changed: a merger, a refocusing of the company’s efforts, a streamlining of the workflow. The effects were always the same, as was the ultimate goal. The line had to go up. If it went up, that was acceptable. If it went up faster than the previous fiscal year, that was good. If it went up by a record amount, that was great. She knew, of course, that the line left scores of bodies in its wake, tossing workers into the ranks of the unemployed; but the line also gave her perks, privileges, fat bonuses. Almost no one in the boardroom felt guilty about it, despite what they may say in P.R. statements, so why should she feel bad?
Maybe it was just… evolution, Julia thought. Her missing part made her exquisitely suited for her environment, and so she thrived. Did a shark feel remorse for being able to hunt?
There was, however, a tradeoff, and this Julia did mind. That lack of… whatever it was she was supposed to have, came with a rather annoying side effect. As far as she could tell, Julia was significantly less interested in sex than her peers. Certainly less interested in the topic than her best friend Claudia, and Claudia was considered a prude by most people.
Sure, Julia masturbated every now and then. But she did it with the same spirit and intent that she applied to going to the gym, or trying new attractive looks, or lasering off her body hair. It was maintenance. Simply an annoying task to keep her body fit for purpose and her mind free of distractions. She wished she could reach orgasm quicker, efficiently. That would free up time for more valuable matters.
Relationships had been tricky, of course. Julia had learned quite quickly to mirror her partners and their particular sexual interests, and that had provided some temporary entertainment. She had been with men, women, non binary partners. She had been with cis partners and trans partners. She had performed the role of the loving, tender, nurturing figure and of the wild party girl; she had been the willing slut and the passive, almost virginal trad girl. She had taken part in threesomes and swap parties and… and it was all so exhausting. Inevitably she got bored. Inevitably her partners noticed the cracks in her facade. After that, everything always went downhill, sometimes in a quick and explosive way, sometimes in an extended agony.
What was, then, the point? Relationships were too much of a hassle for too small and temporary a reward.
Julia pushed such thoughts down as she opened her laptop, comfortable between her expensive sheets. She wasn’t exactly sure why she looked at porn when she felt she had to masturbate, except that she knew others masturbated to porn. It did nothing for her. She usually picked a video at random from the biggest porn site and got to work, but she might as well masturbate to a nature documentary. Seeing others having sex didn’t inflame any passion in her, and neither did the often ludicrous scenarios the films presented, when they bothered to present any narrative at all. Julia sighed. Better to get it over with.
Yeah, sure, schoolgirl needs better grades. Whatever. It would do, Julia figured. A part of her wondered about the school’s dress code, while another noticed the three token seats that were meant to evoke “a classroom” in the scene. Clearly the budget for the production had gone somewhere else, presumably the post-filming cleanup. Shit. This would not do. There was nothing remotely erotic about the whole thing… not that she was a good measure of what was erotic, anyway. She absentmindedly clicked on another video, lamenting the fact that her pussy was informing her in a rather annoying way that yes, it needed attention and no, Julia couldn’t just skip this particular rubbing session. She let her hand wander between her legs with something akin to resignation.
With porn in the background, Julia tried to relax. She closed her eyes, desperate to let herself be in the moment, to focus on the sensations of her body, to finally fucking cum and move on. Then something caught her attention. She looked at the screen.
Huh. A… japanese scene? Sure, why not. But there was something strange in the way the actress moaned, the expression of her face. Julia sat up. She could feel something new, something unknown stirring inside her body. She stared at the screen, enraptured. This scene had something different, something she couldn’t pinpoint at first, something that made her unconsciously rub herself faster and faster…
It dawned on her as she looked at the actress’ eyes. She was not enjoying a single second of it. She was not acting disgusted or humiliated. She was genuinely ashamed of herself, of her actions, of every choice in her life that had led her to the moment when the camera had been turned on. The tears in her eyes were not fake, the yelps of pain and discomfort were not an act. The whole story was there, written in her every expression for Julia to read. This woman’s dignity, forever gone. The moment she knew she would have no prospects for a normal life was right there, immortalized by a digital recording, to be replayed over and over for the enjoyment of people who couldn’t give less of a shit who this person was. The deep, intimate pain of her failure, exposed for the world to see. The utter humiliation of her body betraying her when a pang of pleasure made her twitch.
This woman had never desired to be a porn star. Need and desperation had led her down that path, and now she realized, too late, that the price she was paying was far too steep. This woman had a family, Julia imagined, who would never talk to her again. This woman would never hold a job that didn’t involve spreading her legs like a whore. Her scene partner didn’t give a fuck about her pleasure, her comfort, her well-being. He just used her body like it was a ragdoll, grabbing her and moving her from position to position while the light in her gradually dimmed to nothing.
Right there, on the screen, was a life being utterly ruined.
With a scream, Julia came like she had never cum before.
II - Simulacra
“I’m so sorry. I was looking forward to going down there! It’s just… you know, when it rains it pours and work is pummeling me right now. I’ll make it up to you, love… I promise.”
“It’s okay. I know how your bosses are. I’ll just have to miss you for a little bit more. I love you”, said Tim.
“I love you too”, lied Julia before hanging up.
She took a deep breath. It took effort to sound like a good girlfriend. She reminded herself that Tim, dear, poor Tim, was her best choice. She was even fond of him in some strange way, a bit like someone might care for a cherished pet. Having a boyfriend -on paper- was useful. It kept unwanted advances at bay and projected an image of someone that had it all figured out, had a solid life: that was crucial in business.
She went over her mental checklist of the reasons she should keep Tim around. First, he lived out of town. That was a big plus. She could mentally prepare to see him, brace herself for the work of playing a role she didn’t particularly enjoy, and there were no surprise “dropping by”, no expectation of spending quality time together every day, or even every week. Then there was the way Tim adored her. He felt he had struck gold with Julia, that for some reason he had landed someone absolutely out of his league- which wasn’t wrong, but wasn’t as extreme as he thought, either. His self-image was a distorted mess, which came in handy to Julia. He would endure and go along with anything she desired, and she knew exactly how to measure affection to provoke the desired effects. Just a vaguest hint that she might not be happy with him was enough to turn Tim into a desperate mess, eager to please her.
Julia had pondered, a bit as an academic exercise, why Tim felt so inferior. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he wasn’t bad-looking either; in fact, he had poured his insecurities into a very strict gym regimen, so his physique could probably land him a few girls, if he didn’t insist on constantly underestimating himself. He was self-employed, and wealthy enough to live in his own house by a lake seventy miles outside the city; that would be another plus should he choose to enter the dating game. And he was kind, which apparently was valuable to some people.
Julia had her own pet theory about where the trauma that characterized her beloved little ball of insecurities had originated. It seemed silly, but she had a feeling it was right, or at least in the right ballpark, and it came down to the simple fact that Tim was not, in fact, called Tim; Tim was not short for Timothy- hell, it wasn’t short for anything. His real name was Tiberius.
Now one could imagine a couple of history professors naming their kid that, and while it wouldn’t make the playground taunts go down any easier, it would have at least some sort of dignity. The fact was that Tim’s parents were most definitely not history buffs. They were Trekkies, and had named their only child in honor of their favorite fictional spaceship captain. Why they hadn’t gone with “James” was anyone’s guess. Julia didn’t really care about the adventures of some made up, stupid, space hero. But Tim did, on a deep level. It was as if his parents had engraved the label of “nerd” on his DNA, and no matter how successful he got, he could never shake the feeling that he was an outcast, a pariah, and he didn’t deserve the attention of any woman, let alone one like Julia.
Well, whatever it was, it worked for her. Tim hadn’t pushed back when she canceled her trip to see him. She knew he wouldn’t. She stretched and got ready for a weekend of exploration.
After her sudden discovery two nights before, Julia had gone on a ravenous search for more. She found that japanese porn tended to be more palatable to her, the girls in it often pretending to hate every act they were engaged in- but all too often, Julia could see that they were just acting. Sure, every now and then she would get to experience the last, dim, lights of dignity and self worth die in front of a camera, but she sadly found these were the exception, rather than the rule. It was then that she had broadened the search, like a bloodhound honed in on a particular scent.
She discovered a few delightful things. The first was a psychological phenomenon commonly known as sexualization of trauma. Julia didn’t give a fuck about the psychological underpinnings or emotional quandaries of the phenomenon, only the end result; that end result being a community of victims willing to not only recount their experiences for the pleasure of others but getting off on their own victimization as well. And, of course, there were legions of anonymous posters cheering them on. Now this was something she could enjoy.
She was aware that a lot of it, perhaps most of it, was pretend. After all, there was no way of knowing or verifying anything at all- for all she knew, the texts posted by these women were written by random men playing out their own fantasies; or the videos of women rubbing and begging to be raped again were performances by otherwise vanilla girls with a rape kink. She didn’t truly care as long as the simulacra felt real enough, as long as it scratched that itch inside her. For too long she had been looking for something that made her feel real, primal passion. Now the answer stared at her in the face, simple and undeniable: it was pain. Not the pain of whips and spankings. The pain that made her blood run hot was deep, scarring psychological pain. And now that she knew what she desired, she couldn’t get enough.
The event that would change her life came, as such things often do, by complete happenstance. Julia was enjoying her fourth hour of Saturday debauchery, looking deep into the eyes of some slut fucking herself with a hairbrush while begging to be used like a cumdump and discarded in some alley when a notification popped up on her phone. A simple text message from her friend Claudia.
“Hey, what you up to?”
Somehow, her mind fused everything together. Suddenly, the girl ravaging herself with a brush, tears in her eyes, was Claudia. Suddenly, the person begging to be made to feel less than human, was Claudia. Suddenly, the woman thanking random internet strangers calling her a worthless cunt, was Claudia. And Julia came with a scream.
The notion took root instantly. Still panting, the idea was undeniable, solid as steel, inevitable.
Claudia. Julia would watch Claudia be broken.
III - Such a Good Person, Such a Good Friend
While they didn’t truly understand, Julia’s sudden change in the way she approached certain aspects of her job was welcomed by the higher ups. Having someone other than HR take the time to do in-person meetings when a position was terminated sure looked better than sending an email, and Julia was able to explain, with a face of absolute sadness, the reasons why someone was fired. The way she had explained it had been so noble, too. “I make the choice, I have to at least be decent enough to look people in the eye while I let them know.”
Not that it mattered a whole lot in that environment, but a few people started gossiping that maybe Julia was not just ruthlessly efficient: she was, deep down, a good person.
Most employees -or rather, former employees- appreciated the gesture, even as the news wrecked them. That someone from the executive levels had deigned to come down, to talk to them and explain to them as people the situation made them feel seen as more than mere cogs in a machine. It made them feel like at least there was some humanity there, in the middle of all that pain.
And there was pain. Julia pretended to be saddened, to understand their concerns, to listen to their pleas. Meanwhile, she did her best not to let her arousal show, fighting against a pussy that got soaked watching someone’s entire life plan crumble, taking in the way the light reflected on their tearful eyes, the delightful melody of their voices breaking. Every distraught face she saved in her memory, etched in her mind for later enjoyment. There was something marvelous in knowing these losers thought they were being treated like proper people, when they were simply being made into porn.
Often, when there was a big round of layoffs, Julia couldn’t even make it home. She just locked her office and let her fingers play with savage intensity, reveling in what she had caused. Had she recommended more “streamlining” as of late? Certainly. And it was worth it, just for the sensations her body rewarded her with.
Ah yes, she was such a good person, watching dreams crack. Mid-masturbation she sent Claudia a text, reminding her of their upcoming night out. Her plan was in full swing.
“I’m not sure, Jules…”, said Claudia. Only she called Julia “Jules”, a privilege earned from their shared highschool years, long before. Claudia took another look in the mirror.
“Come on, girl! What’s the harm? You have a great body, so might as well show it off a bit! Maybe get a few free drinks and everything. I mean, how long has it been since…”
Julia didn’t have to finish that sentence. The answer was implicit, as was the rest of the question. Claudia had not gotten laid since her fiancee had dumped her, eighteen months before. She wasn’t ready to date yet, or even to have some casual fling… but Jules had a point, in a bit of a twisted way. Some male attention might be just what she needed to boost her confidence, maybe get her back in the game. Eventually. Still, the outfit Julia had suggested was a bit much, hugging her body tight, giving onlookers a rather generous view of her cleavage.
Then again, Julia herself was wearing a pretty revealing outfit. It was unlike her. Then the thought occurred to Claudia that Jules was dressed that way for her. To make her feel more at ease being a bit sexier. To help her reclaim some sort of power, rather than moping around her apartment. Jules was such a good friend…
That settled it. Fine, time to play the sexy minx for a night at the club.
The girls came back to the apartment wasted. To be more precise, Claudia was wasted. Julia had measured her drinking with clinical precision. They laughed and giggled as they collapsed on the couch.
“...and the blonde guy! He so had the hots for you!”
“Me? Claudia, the guy was drooling all over you! And don’t pretend you didn’t tease him like a little slut, you heartbreaker!”
Claudia couldn’t help but explode in joyful laughter. It was true. She had flirted with that guy. A lot. That guy and several other guys, and fuck it, it had felt great. She had even felt one man’s boner while they danced and damn it, knowing she could still get someone hard had been such a relief and a source of happiness. It was silly, but after the last year and a half…
Suddenly, Julia leapt out of the couch. She opened Claudia’s laptop and put on some old school dance music. Nostalgia filled the air. It was the soundtrack to their adolescence, their early adventures.
“Come here!”, shouted Julia. With great effort, Claudia peeled herself off the couch. There was a website open on the laptop.
“What is that?”
“I say we use the wonders of the Internet to have some more fun! Just play along!”, said Julia before clicking something.
Soon a man’s poorly lit, grainy face was on the screen. Claudia, dizzy, tried to make sense of it.
“Dance with me”, said Julia. “Let’s put on a show for this rando!”
It felt naughty. It felt a bit wicked. But after a night of feeling sexier than ever, the idea of cockteasing people who could never touch her felt fun to Claudia. She tried to forget that the camera was there, to move the way her body wanted her to, the way the music demanded her to. Then, Claudia looked at the screen and shrieked. There was a cock there. The man was jerking off furiously. Claudia leapt out of frame, paused and broke out in giggles.
“What the fuck?”, she said between laughs.
“Well, I can’t say I blame the guy!” said Julia. “Two hot girls like us dancing? I take what he did as a compliment!”
“We are not, like… hot girls, Jules. At least I’m not.”
Julia went silent. With a serious look on her face, she took her friend’s hands.
“Claudia. Look at me. You. Are. A. Sexy. Woman.”
“Jules, I’m not…”
“Stop that. You are sexy, end of discussion. And that you can’t see it breaks my fucking heart. You had guys fawning over you left and right tonight, and now, without even trying, you got a guy so hot and bothered he had to jerk it on camera!”
“I guess…”
“No, no guessing. It’s a fact. You are hot. And you like to tease men. And that’s okay! It’s fucking fun! You deserve to have some fucking fun!”
“I’m not, like, a cocktease…”
“Yes you are! Yes, you are. And that’s perfectly fine. It’s fun, it’s harmless and it makes you happy. So stop running away from it!”
“I… I don’t know”, mumbled Claudia, making her way back to the couch. Julia sat next to her, and together they stared at the ceiling.
“I guess… maybe it did feel kinda good”, confessed Claudia.
“I know”, said Julia.
She let a moment pass. Let that admission sink in. Then she added, with a devious smile: “You know what would be fun?”
“What?”
“Well, my boyfriend has a house by a lake, did I tell you that?”
“Yep.”
“Well… lake, bikinis for a splash, you, me, him…”
“I’m… not following, Jules.”
“You like to tease, and he’s a little kitten of a guy. To be honest, to see his face all flustered if you flirt with him, and he knows he can’t do anything, and I’m there… God, that would be so funny!”
“Wait. Bitch, you want me to turn your boyfriend on?!”
“Yes! Come on… just as, like, a prank.”
The idea started swimming in Claudia’s head. It wouldn’t be wrong, if Jules was up for it… and having a guy wanting her for an entire weekend… the concept was at the very least intriguing.
Julia looked at her friend’s eyes. She had her.
For some reason, Julia closed her eyes, and the image of a snake coiling around its prey came to her mind.
IV - Fun in the Sun
“She looks great, doesn’t she? I mean, considering she’s been depressed for like, almost two years… I guess she managed to keep hitting the gym”
“Uh-huh”, mumbled Tim.
Julia was barely holding it together. Her mind raced with expectation, with fantasies, with the simple delight of watching her boyfriend squirm. Poor man. So simple. So good hearted. So ashamed.
The shopping trip had most certainly been worth it. Sure, Claudia had gotten cold feet, as Julia knew she would, but a little prodding, teasing, and a lot of love bombing her with how amazing she looked in micro bikinis and tight shorts had swayed the tide. In the end, Claudia had bought something that could be called a swimsuit in only the most generous use of the term, which covered just enough to avoid an indecent exposure charge. Paired with a top which left her midriff exposed and the shorts that let her toned legs in the open… well, the effect had been immediate.
How Tim had avoided staring! So cute. Adorable, in a pathetic sort of way. He had welcomed the girls into his home with a stammer that had bordered on incomprehensibility. Claudia had noticed it too, of course, and the women had shared a mischievous smile. When they declared that it was so hot and so sunny out, and that they should take a nice splash in the lake, Tim had tried to look for an excuse to, simply, not be there. He had come up with nothing, and the girls cast their clothes aside right there, in his living room. Suddenly Tim became incredibly invested in the little crumbs on his table. He looked at them as if they held the secret to the Universe, grasping at straws to avoid being swept in the torrent of desire that he could almost smell in the room. Of course, Julia had made sure there was no escape. With a simple “Honey, look how cute these are! We bought them yesterday”, she forced Tim to confront the simple fact that this girl, her beloved girlfriend’s best friend, was objectively, mathematically, and empirically hot as fuck.
He waited for them to return, steeling himself, stewed in guilt. He loved Julia, he reminded himself. Julia. The woman he didn’t deserve, who due to a fluke error in some celestial paperwork loved him back. How could he do this to her? Even when not acting on it, he felt the desire itself was a form of treason. And now, Julia prompted him to look at Claudia again, glistening and wet, fresh from their lake adventure.
“Are you listening to me?”, said Julia.
“I am! I am. Sorry”, said Tim. That tone of voice, that hint of displeasure was all he needed to know he had to be better. Do better. But what did “better” mean in this context? Looking at Claudia more? Managing to expunge his thoughts about her before Julia realized?
“Whatever. I’m taking a shower”, said Julia, making sure to pour a substantial dose of disappointment in her voice. Better to keep his man nice and servile.
Claudia struggled for a second, but only for a second. After all, Julia had come up with the plan, it was just harmless fun, and god damnit, it felt so fucking good to be desired again. As soon as her friend left the room, she sat next to poor, shrinking Tim. The man seemed to be trying to disappear into the couch. Claudia gave him her best smile.
“What’s up with her?”, asked Claudia.
“Nothing! She, huh, just wanted to, you know… shower. Get the lake water off her skin, I guess. I… yeah.”
It was just too cute. Claudia leaned over Tim to grab a beer, letting her breasts brush against his lap. Could she have gone around the table? Sure. But where was the fun in that?
“If you ask me, Jules has been a bit weird lately. Guess it’s because she hasn’t been able to come down here for a while, you know what I mean?”
“I… yeah. This place is really nice to relax, and, well, the lake and the trees and…”
“I meant, you know, she might be needing some fun.”
“Yeah, work has been rough with her, so resting up will be nice for her.”
“Tim. Look at me. I’m saying Jules needs to get some good cock.”
Tim’s face went from red to bright neon. To hear that word, spoken so casually by the woman next to him… he forced himself not to pay attention to the tension growing in his pants.
“Anyway”, continued Claudia, “I guess she’ll get some soon, right, Tim? I don’t mean to cockblock her by being here, so… you do what you gotta do, you know? I don’t mind. And if you two happen to be loud… well, that wouldn’t bother me one bit.”
“I… if we… we’ll keep it down.”
“Don’t! Come on, Tim. You know I haven’t gotten a good fuck for months! So at least listening in would be something… and I’m sure you can make Jules scream. You have that look in you. All proper and polite in public but a beast in the sack, right? Oh, I envy her…”
Tim was about to mumble something, anything, when he saw Julia walk back into the living room. Hallelujah! Saved by his own personal angel.
“Julia! How was the shower?”
“Quite nice, actually. Hey Claudia, let me show you my favorite spot in the yard!”
The women left. Tim breathed again.
Outside, the girls laughed.
“You really told him that?”, giggled Julia.
“Yeah! You should have seen his face!”
“We need to step it up a notch!”
“I… I don’t know, Jules. Feels a bit cruel, you know?”
“What, getting him all hot and bothered? I’ll make sure he gets some proper release for that. And after dinner, when it’s all dark and in a good mood, you can lay it on thick, you know? So I can see his reaction. Plus, don’t pretend you aren’t having fun.”
“Fine, I am having fun toying with him. A lot of fun, actually!”
“That’s my girl! And tonight we’ll have so much more fun!”
Claudia agreed with a smile.
She would regret that smile, come night time.
V - White Wine Under the Moon
The night was warm, and the wine abundant- none of these things helped Tim, who was trying desperately not to sweat too much. In fact, he was soaked. Claudia, downing glass after glass, had become anything but subtle. She laughed and winked at him as she put her hand on his knee. She hugged him tight, declaring him to be “adorable” after some mumbled comment uttered by the poor man. She whispered in his ear, letting her warm breath tickle him, sending shivers down his spine. Even Tim, who assumed by default that no woman was interested in him, ever, had to admit that Claudia’s interest was rather obvious. But that wasn’t the worst part.
He shot a glance at Julia. Surely she had noticed everything too. Tim tried to be polite, to remain calm, to go to his girlfriend; but every time he attempted to pull away from the drunk temptress, she found some excuse to keep him by her side. It was, he felt, like sitting down for a nice evening with a fully armed nuclear device. Julia would explode sooner or later. Oh, he could imagine it so clearly… the screaming, the tears, perhaps even the damning evidence of his traitorous erection being levied against him. He didn’t want to lose her, not ever- but especially not like this. He felt guilty, as if his body and mind had cheated on Julia, in front of Julia, despite his titanic effort to do absolutely nothing with Claudia. He wasn’t quite sure what crime he had committed in a past life to deserve this hell, but it must have been nothing less than murder. Maybe he had been Jack the Ripper?
He tried to distract his mind with such musings, to ignore the heat coming from Claudia’s legs, now comfortably set on his lap, to let her comments (“wine always makes me horny…”, “I’ll just be in my bikini, it’s so hot here!”) slide. Then, the dreaded moment came.
“Honey, can I talk to you for a sec?”, said Julia, her face a mask of absolute seriousness.
“Oh, Jules, but I’m so comfy!”, objected Claudia. Tim, for his part, leapt up, ready to accept his sentence. What defense could he possibly offer? Blame Claudia? No, Claudia had not put those fantasies in his head. And he had been the one unable to stop her, to set the proper boundaries. If a head had to roll, it would be his. But maybe, just maybe, he could salvage his relationship with Julia…
Without a word, they walked outside, leaving Claudia to pour herself yet another glass.
“So?”, said Julia.
“I… look, I tried to… I don’t know, to be a good host, I guess. And your friend, she’s very… friendly? Look, I know you’re upset with me and you have every right to be, but…”
“But what? But what, Tim? Are you going to let the little slut just get away with it?”
“The… what? Julia, I don’t…”
“You fucking pussy. You pathetic little excuse for a man.”
“Why… what the hell are you talking about?”
“What I’m saying, Tiberius, is that you have a little piece of cockteasing meat right there in your living room and you’re letting her walk all over you! She has been toying with you since the moment she got here and you… what? You are just going to let her? You expect me to deal with your cock after she has been teasing it all day? What am I, your relief maid because you’re too much of a fucking coward to do what you know you have to do? What you know you want to do? Any real man would have bent that cunt over five hours ago! And you stammer and talk about being polite? You expect me to stay with a weak, feeble little manlet because he’s oh so polite? I am a woman. I want a man! That thing inside is a little slut that needs to be taught some fucking manners.”
“Julia, what the fuck? That’s your best friend!”
“Yes. And even I, her best friend, can see that she’s asking for it and I’m disgusted that you don’t have the balls to punish her!”
Julia took a step forward, whispering in Tim’s ear.
“Come on. I know you like her. She has been slutting it up all day. I don’t blame you for wanting to fuck the living shit out of her. The way she has been rubbing against you… showing off her skin… and you know why she does it? Because she thinks you’re a pussy. Because she thinks you’re a little pathetic nerd that won’t do anything about it. Because she thinks she can get away with using you for entertainment and then find a real man to fuck her. Well, is she right? Are you going to be a coward or are you going to go in and use the slut for the one thing sluts are meant to be used? Am I with a boy or a man?”
Claudia had to admit she was having a bit too much fun, but Julia hadn’t objected. Maybe she had crossed the line a bit, she couldn’t be sure; but even if she had, Claudia was sure Jules and herself could talk it out. She stretched on the sofa and watched the couple walk back in. Jules was smiling, so clearly everything was fine. Tim, on the other hand, seemed a bit… weird. Not shook, not exactly, but a tad… out of it. Maybe the wine had finally gone to his head? That certainly could make things more fun…
Suddenly, she was on the floor. Her mind caught up with the moment a second too late, the shock and the wine making her head feel as if underwater. Then, the conclusion: Tim pushed me down.
“Dude, what the f-”
Her statement was cut short by a strong, authoritative slap in the face. She looked at her best friend, who had just sat down and watched the scene with enraptured attention.
“Jules, fuck! What are you…?”
Hands on her wrists, pinning her to the floor. The entire weight of Tim’s body on her back, paralyzing her. His cock rubbing between her asscheeks, like some animal in the middle of mating season.
“Well, play with fire and you’re going to get burned, you fucking whore.”, smiled Julia.
Teeth biting down on her shoulder. Tears pooling in her eyes.
“Jules…”, she pleaded.
Julia leapt up.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want it, you cunt. You’ve been acting like a complete slut lately, haven’t you? Then you get to be treated like a slut. It’s that simple. You did this to yourself, my wonderful friend.”
Julia’s words wormed their way in Claudia’s head. She knew they weren’t true. She knew she didn’t deserve… whatever it was that was going to happen. And still, somewhere deep inside her, a tiny voice echoed in her brain. It’s my fault. This is all my fault. I deserve this. I’ve been a slut and I deserve this.
Julia went on one knee and caressed her friend’s face. “Pay close attention, now. I want you to feel everything.”
A sound, strange, incongruous. Just a little snap. Scissors cutting her tiny bikini bottom. Had Julia been carrying scissors around all day?
Then, pain. Searing, mind-breaking pain. Claudia screamed as Tim, in his frenzy of revenge, shoved his cock inside her with no mercy, no concern for her feelings. It stretched her and made her feel invaded, under attack in the most intimate way. Tim felt as if he was finally doing what he should have done so long ago, to so many bitches who had treated him like dirt. Julia simply opened her legs, pulled her bottom aside and rubbed her pussy, inches away from her friend. Yes, this was it. This was what all had been leading up to. Every scream was a melody. Every futile attempt at struggling, a delicious treat. She took it all in, the way Tim mercilessly bounced on Claudia’s toned buttcheeks; the expressions on Claudia’s face, the pain, the shame, the little traitorous needles of pleasure. Yes, by teasing Tim, Claudia had set herself up, made herself horny and needy, and now it all came together in a beautiful agony of contradictions. Oh, how Claudia would hate herself, thought Julia.
Claudia screamed and begged in half-formed, desperate pleas, her mind twisting to the point of feeling it would tear itself apart.
My fault. I deserve this. The words tormented Claudia even more than her body. Horror grew inside her as her own pussy betrayed her, as her screams mixed with moans, as her breathing grew quick and ragged, and not from pain. It was as if her body was doing its best to confirm what she feared the most. I’ve been a slut. I am a slut. This is what I get.
Julia pulled out her phone, making sure to keep Tim’s face out of the frame. Insurance and a nice memento. Besides, she wanted to make a certain moment live forever, and she could tell it was close.
“Please… Julia… please make him stop… why…?”, mumbled Claudia between panting in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
Julia got closer to Claudia, and licked a tear off her face.
“Why? Aside from the fact that you deserve it for being such a huge slut? Well… because I want it to happen. That’s simply it. Because it makes me fucking wet. No other reason. How does it feel, to know your pain is just my porn?”
Porn? The humiliation felt so deep, so personal. Claudia was just a spectacle. Her suffering, just entertainment. Her mind felt overwhelmed, repeating words like poison. I’m just porn. I’m a slut. I deserve this.
Then, it came. The surrender. The moment Claudia went limp, accepting her fate. Julia bit her lip. Yes, this was perfect. All fight gone. The light fading from her friend’s eyes. A wound opening deep in her soul. One that would never heal.
An orgasm caught Julia almost by surprise. It was heaven. She laughed and moaned and screamed, her hips bucking wildly, hitting Claudia in the face. She had never felt anything as strong as the orgasm wracking her body. Julia howled as, for the first time in her life, she experienced something she had only seen in videos and had never even considered a possibility. She squirted her brains out, soaking her friend’s tearful face with her juices. As the sensation subsided, she looked at the denigrated, humiliated face of her dear friend, stared deep into Claudia’s green eyes. Julia could read the struggle inside them.
“Come on, you fucking whore. You know you want to cum. You need to cum because you wanted this. You are going to cum because this is what you really are. Just a fuckhole, a slut, a worthless cocksocket. Stop fighting it.”
In the end, Claudia gave in. Maybe it was exhaustion, and maybe it was Julia’s words, and maybe it was just that she felt so helpless, so ashamed, so useless… but she simply stopped trying to fight it. She screamed, her orgasm an ultimate hymn of defeat. She collapsed, physically and mentally. Sluts cum. I’m a slut. I deserve this.
Julia giggled, every moment captured on her phone. But she wasn’t done.
“Tim, this slut is enjoying it way too much. I say her tight asshole needs some of your tender care.”
And so, the pain returned. Claudia had always been terrified of it, denying everyone who proposed to try anal, no matter how much they pleaded. It had always seemed to her to be degrading, humiliating. Now, she had no choice, no chance to say no. And the pain was worse than anything she had ever feared. She cried with each thrust, feeling as if she was being split in half. She wanted her mind to somehow fly away, to disassociate, to experience that sort of out of body phenomenon she had sometimes read about. Her mind didn’t give her that mercy. It was as if Julia’s words had anchored her in a way she couldn’t fight. Feel everything.
It hurt so bad. Claudia could only mutter the words through gritted teeth. “Stop… stop… stop…”
Claudia blinked away tears. Julia wasn’t there anymore. For some reason, the full extent of her betrayal hadn’t fully sunk in until the moment she felt fingers skillfully playing with her pussy. Julia. Her friend. Her support. Her found sister, linked not by blood but by love. Had she ever loved her? Had Julia ever cared for her? Did she even know the real Julia?
As the pain dulled a bit, horror took over. Julia’s fingers. Claudia could feel her own body responding to them, to the way they teased, the way they moved, their deliberate speed, the calculated way they applied pressure and relief… No. Not like this. Not with a cock in her ass. No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She…
She had no chance. She felt something new, something hot flooding her. The sensation, along with the realization pushed her over the edge. He came in my ass. My ass. Used it like his cumdump.
Julia laughed as Claudia's dignity melted away in one overwhelming orgasm..
Epilogue - Shopping
If you were to come across them, say, at a mall, you’d probably think a few things. Maybe you’d be struck by their beauty, both women irrefutably fair. Maybe you’d envy them their shared laughter, the complicity born from years of close friendship. Maybe you’d notice them going into a lingerie store, and your mind would imagine them in provocative garments before a night of passion.
You would never know the truth. You’d never guess one of them had been broken by the other. You’d never divine the humiliation of being forced to pretend they were still just the best of friends. You’d never fathom how, night after night, one of them became less and less of a person. You’d never suspect the gigabytes of videos stored in one of their phones.
And you’d never assume the real reason these two beauties were at the mall was to scout the next victim. You’d see them walk up to the cute salesgirl, all smiles and banter, and think nothing of it- besides, maybe, such good friends.
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I wish I was sucking cock right now
just putting it out there…
What is it? Tell me little bimbo… Is it the feeling of utter submission? Feeling his hands on your head as he pumps all the silly thoughts out of your cock obsessed, bimbo brain? Or is it realizing that your mouth is doing what it’s meant to do? Not talking of course. Being a walking pair of silicone stuffed tits and cock sucking lips, it’s not like anyone will listen to anything you have to say. No, just get on your knees and give in to the delicious feeling of realizing you’re nothing more then a pair of fake tits and three holes for getting as much cum as possible.
It’s true. I have a body designed for sex and it’s a shame I’m not using it to satisfy a man.
I should be on my knees right now, bobbing my head up and down on a hard cock. Listening to him moan as I suck on his balls. Feeling his hand on my head, pushing me down on his cock. Wondering where he’s going to cum and realizing that it’s entirely up to him.
It’s true. You are designed for sex. That’s all you’re good for. And if you’re not mindlessly being stuffed with cock every night then you have no one else to blame but yourself you stupid bimbo. Get out there! Stick those fake tits out! Go to a club and and “not realize” your nipple is hanging out of your slutty top. You’re only thought when you go out should be “Will the sight of me get cocks hard?” If yes, then you’re doing it right. Now get out there, find a man (any man, they all have cocks silly girl) and get on your knees where you belong!