The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Ohhhh, MA-SSSsssTERrrrrrr!”

It was the right way to wake up. Sydney put at least ten syllables into it, and each was more simpering and wet than the last. It had a hint of giggle to it, too, and was brainless and needy.

Just like his girls. His silly, stupid harem of slave-sluts.

Jeremy awoke to another day of being Master. The sun was just starting to show against the curtains.

“I saw an eye flicker! MA-SSSSsssTERrrrrrrrr, don’t you wanna see my pussy?”

They’d moved into the mansion just several months prior, and the mortgage made even a dominating king of whores blanch. But he’d needed the space. It had felt wrong to have a stable of devoted bimbos in a two-bedroom, where the windows had aluminum frames. Here the floors were walnut and there was wainscotting on the ceilings, and it just felt right.

If expensive.

“Master, I neeeeed to suck your dick! It’s another BIG DAY!” Sydney moan-talked.

“But... I need to suck his dick, as well!” Anna said, as usual, slightly confused. “And... and... there’s only one dick to suck! Wait, Sydney, math.”

“It’s okay pussywillow,” Sydney explained, ever patient. “It’s a BIG dick. We divide it in half! Lengthwise or something.”

“Ohhhh,” Anna said, with that usual added note of “huh?” “No, wait, do I get the bottom half or—I want the part with the tip in it!”

“It’s a good part, for sure,” Sydney said. Now she was on the bed. “Masssssterrrrr, I’m wearing the new shorts! Briefly! ’Cause they are BRIEFS!” Another inane giggle.

Had he slept? He’d gone to bed bone tired, and, manly as he was, his body insisted it was still Tuesday.

But there were bimbos to bang. His bimbos. And he had a fresh night of seed, for their mouths, their slits, and also retail.

Jeremy opened his eyes. Both girls clapped, and then pirouetted, in sync. To show off their new clothes.

The girls had many outfits—putting further strain on his bank —but Jeremy would not have had it any other way. After a month of scanty lingerie they were now in scanty atheleisure.

Sydney, his number one, his first transformed ditzy slut, his princess among princesses, was in dolphin shorts taut against her pussy, and a sort of tight top that was just there to be hapless. Her fat, fattening tits were on display, to be fondled, with a ton of creamy underboob. Anna wore even less—grey panties already damp with pussy juice, and her own big breasts in cleavage mode in a bra that was less sports and more bedroom.

“You smell very good this morning, Master,” Sydney observed. “It’s making me cream my new outfits and my mouth is super watery. Did you sleep okay?”

“I better’ve,” Jeremy said. He sat up, and wobbled. Anna was there with a full nalgene bottle—his line of work tended to dehydrate. They quietly let him drink. It helped. Somewhat. Jeremy surveyed his whores and ired their outfits. Such incredible curves he’d stuffed onto them.

Although. All new clothes. They looked like name brands. Having a bevy of bimbos was draining on the wallet.

“Is he awake too, Master?” Sydney said.

But the draining could be fun. Jeremy sat up, pulled down his shorts and let his cock spring out. The girls leaned forwards, and Anna drooled, into her own tits.

“Smell this,” Sydney said. She ed the kleenex over. Anna sniffed it at a cautious distance, and then closer. “Good, huh?”

“Great,” Anna agreed. Another whiff. “Oh man. What? What is this?”

“It’s JEREMY. You might Jeremy, if you really try,” Sydney said. “Maybe our most forgettable classmate. I said he was working there?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhh. Oh. Yeah. Yeah, there he is. Hey, good for my brain, finding him. Yeah. I think I signed his yearbook as, ‘It’s you!’” Anna said.

They sat, apart, on the bed of Sydney’s pickup. A turnoff that Sydney knew. Not quite all the way apart—Anna’s legs were on top of Sydney’s legs.

It was nice that it was cold out. That way they could feel each other’s warmth.

“Uh-huh. I walked in for my first day, and I’m like, HUH. It smells like our Chemistry class, and our History class. You how GOOD those rooms smelled? Those were Jeremy classes. And then I did a little math class, internally, and figured it out.”

“Yeahhhhhhhh,” Anna said. “Did we learn anything in those?”

“I didn’t learn anything anywhere. But after chemistry, god, I’d float out of there, all the girls did, it was like we were high. we’d—” Sydney paused.

we’d look at each other, our hands would touch, for a moment.

High School in their part of the country lacked only the barbed wire. And it had the floodlights. The guards came free, students and at least half the teachers.

Sydney’s parents would disown a gay daughter, and that was one thing.

Anna’s parents would kill one.

Anna took another whiff. “Shuts your brain off, doesn’t it?” Sydney said.

“Thank god,” Anna said.

“Masssssssterrrrrrr...” Sydney cooed. She put a pink-tipped fingertip to the top of his cock. “Is it even BIGGER today?”

“Bigger?” Anna said, bewildered. “Like, then before? Even bigger than BEFORE?”

Sydney gave a sober nod. Anna gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth.

Jeremy felt a little guilty, sometimes, that they only had two brain cells knocking around between them. And, honestly, Sydney had both of them.

While Sydney was a blonde bomb, shimmering with curves, she could still basically as—well, as a person. She was a sexpot, but the world had many sexpots.

Anna’s proportions had left behind reality awhile ago. Fantastic tits with spark plug nipples, bubble butt that ate thongs, lips made to slobber on big Jeremy cocks. That she’d kept her stark black hair just made her hotter, in Jeremy’s opinion. A severe start to a cartoonish body.

Sometimes Jeremy would find her just stroking her own nipples, in a mirror, humming something brainless and tuneless. And she LOVED to just stuff her head in his armpit, and sniff.

Jeremy stood up, and ignored the brief wave of dizziness. The truth was, he was still growing into his own body as well. He was being very diligent with adequate hydration and caloric intake. The girls had noted all his new hard lines and definition with reaffirming approval. And yet he wasn’t even exercising, except his cock.

His balls ached, they were so full. He needed to be drained. Well, that’s what the girls were for.

“Can I pretty, pretty, PLEASE drink all of Mr. Jeremy’s cummies?” Anna begged, on her knees already. “Out of his even bigger dick?” Her eyes widened, which scarcely seemed possible. “Wait, are his balls bigger TOO today? They are!”

They were. They had to be, with how much he was producing. It was a big responsibility, but one Jeremy was happy to shoulder. Provided that his jism was obtained by silky pussy, eager mouth, or similar ingenuity.

“I want to drink Jeremy’s yummy cum FIRST!” Sydney huffed to her friend.

“Girls,” Jeremy said, rousing himself for the first time, through the fog in his morning wood. “It’s ALRIGHT.” He let his cock waver in front of him.

He indulged in some mercy. It wouldn’t do to jam such a monster down their throats. “Mouths.”

They got in a row, without him even directing them to.

“I’ve been fishing his drinks out of the trash,” Sydney said. “Finishing them off. It produces a narcotic, euphoric effect, Anna. Super strong.”

She inhaled. It was difficult to a cigarette back and forth, but Anna and Sydney had gotten good at it. They didn’t even particularly like smoking, but the wet trace of Anna on the tip, wafted in on a wreath of smoke... it was worthwhile.

“You’re getting HIGH off him? Really?” Anna said. She rubbed her lips together, waiting. They were just two country girls bumming cigarettes off each other, sitting in a flatbed truck. Innocent behavior. Wallen could do a song about it.

Sydney watched her reapply lip gloss. She knew exactly what it tasted like.

“We’re building a more efficient Oklahoman,” Sydney announced. “He’s making the meth internally. It WRECKS you, Anna. I am a-float my entire shift, just from finishing his coffee. Which was in the trash. I am completely a-glow. I GIGGLE. I feel good about living here. That’s how high I get. And that’s not all it does.”

Sydney had found the most deserted road in the County, for this. For Anna. And still Sydney checked, and checked, for the sound of motors, or, worse, footsteps. Since she’d moved back Sydney had resumed the lookaround. Look left, and right, and feel for glances at the back of her neck.

The town checked on them. Pickups crept by.

Finally she ed the cigarette over. Anna closed her eyes when she puffed. Sydney’s lip gloss was melon-flavored.

“You know how all the girls in Chemistry class spent the year growing tits? Including Ms. Wright?” Enough preamble. Sydney pulled her shirt up. They were a full cup size larger.

The girls had a number of inviting targets. Mouths obviously. Definitely. But it was also fun to rope big wads of his cum into their heavy curves, watch it spool down, drip. Hair, also, was inviting, crowning them with his fantastic and transformative fluids. Or whatever. They were a canvas, he was the painter.

Canvas One and Two already had hands all over each other, jostling for position. They were cheek by cheek. Anna and Sydney never shared lipstick, he vaguely noticed. Each had their own growing stash of the stuff, along with all the other pleasantly-scented products that arrived in jumbled piles on the doorstep. The delivery drivers probably jostled for the trip.

They did have matching credit cards. Sydney had found one with 3% cash back and even hunted and pecked her way through the application, bless her silly slut heart.

Typing in her zip code had fried her bimbo brain so bad that Anna had istered mouth-to-mouth, to frantically revive her. Jeremy did sympathize. He wasn’t feeling too intellectual lately either. Something about living life mostly through his cock.

A pearl of his cum formed at the tip. Both heavily-mascara’d eyes widened.

It never got old to be worshipped, even if his testicles used up most of his calories. Anna made a throaty noise of nervous anticipation, and Sydney licked her considerable lips.

Sydney, today. Jeremy motioned over to her, with his penis, and let the first droplet fall on to her tongue.

His girl closed her eyes and shivered with unrestrained bliss.

It was funny, Jeremy had gone through all of High School unawares of the happiness factory that he was. He’d only gone to public high school late, after the divorce had upended life, and had spent Senior year huddled in misery. He’d had no idea the girls would compete for his sperm, would run laps for it, empty their wallets, so that they’d have the honor to have their face cupped by his hand.

“No fair!” Anna groused. “You got it on—uhhh—that day of the week! Monderday!” She took matters into her own lips, taking a dazed Sydney and sticking her tongue right in her mouth. Despite her dazed, glassy eyes Sydney pushed back, equally full lips at the ready, and a tongue war broke out.

Jeremy almost laughed. All over each other, just over a single drop of jizz. Hands pulling at each other’s clothes, too.

“Girls, plenty more where that came from. Girls. Girls!”

Were they too dumb to even hear him?

Sydney had worked to awaken Jeremy to the effect his body had on girls.

This had started out as what she had assumed were broad and obvious hints—asking Jeremy if he was wearing cologne, talking up the glistening allure of his sweat, and half-jokingly asking if she could finish his drinks. Sydney was not practiced at talking to men, but surely, she’d felt, he’d respond to the conversational equivalent of hitting him with a hammer. She’d looked up lines on the internet.

And surely he’d realize she was nearly orgasming, from the dregs of his lattes. Ordinarily Sydney’s facial expression was made out of brick and rebar. For her to break into a florid, stupid grin—eh?

But no.

“I love your spit,” she’d tried. It was true and honest. She held his discarded cup up, and then glommed her mouth onto the straw.

He’d responded with his own persistently owlish, even peevish, expression. A mask of befuddlement behind his rimless glasses.

Afterwards Sydney had checked herself in the mirror. Cheeks flushed, eyes needy and open, yes. Head swirling with pleasure. Panting a little, mouth open. She looked like a dog in heat. Her voice came out in a mew. And he hadn’t picked up on it? Out of HER? Even her Yearbook photo had drilled contempt in it.

Sydney had tried not to let her opinion of men dip any lower.

The bar was already scraping paint off the floor. Perhaps, she’d reasoned, he’d always lived in a humid atmosphere of girls turning into big-boobed puddles around him. And she wanted to like the guy—he was filling her in with the leggy bombshell body of her dreams, and fueling numerous feverish Anna makeout sessions.

And, most of all, he was The Plan.

Eventually she’d ditched any semblance of subtle and started telling Jeremy the facts. Grabbing his shirt so he wouldn’t get away.

“Huh! My breasts are growing in exact proportion to how much I drink Jeremy drinks.” And “Wow, this butt of mine is extra wobbly, in a ratio that equates with when I wore your sweaty shirt.”

He had patiently explained to her that this was impossible.

At that point Sydney had grabbed the man and stuck her tongue in his mouth. She had no choice. The resulting chemical-hormonal euphoria had nearly, nearly offset her irritation.

And it wasn’t really a kiss, she told herself. It was more using him as a straw.

As usual Jeremy couldn’t stay mad at his bimbos. It was an endearing moment, the two of them lip-locked and eyes closed. They were even starting to writhe. He liked the writhing.

“Girls!” he tried, one last time, to get them to turn towards him. Ah well. Jeremy stroked his own cock. It wasn’t so bad. He enjoyed the heft of it, the control. And the girls gave him something sexy and soft to aim for, even if it was basically impossible to aim for one or the other. They were in a curvy pile now, enmeshed in each other, Sydney generally but not entirely on top.

His control was getting better. He gave a soft grunt and unloaded, shooting a long line of cum over the floor, most of Sydney’s ass, and then more floor. A warm, comforting scent filled the room. Jeremy felt a familiar, gauzy feeling. The first of many, every day. It was no wonder he was feeling so foggy, lately. So many cumshots.

“Anna! Master didn’t cum in our slutty mouths or pussies! Or our equally slutty butts!” Sydney said, severely. She broke the kiss, to Anna’s long whine. She fixed her big blue eyes on Jeremy. “We’re super sorry Master!”

“Forgiven,” Jeremy said, airily. He prided himself on good treatment of the girls. It was the least he could do. After all, he’d turned them from regular early-20s females into red-hot dumb sex objects, adorably dependent on him for everything.

He felt a little sheepish sometimes, that his masterhood had been so long delayed. Sydney had been something like eighty-three percent bimbo before he’d clocked what she was becoming, thanks to him. But he’d made up for lost time.

“Anna! Mop duty!” Sydney barked. She produced two small plastic shovels out of—somewhere. Unclear how they’d stayed concealed, after Anna had searched every inch of her body.

Anna reached out and grabbed Sydney’s tits, instead of the tools.

“Focus, slut!”

Jeremy had to laugh. They had their tremendous asses up in the air now, focusing on extracting all his semen from the floor. He was proud of those butts. He’d built them. The household food budget was another considerable strain. Sydney had explained that the girls needed expensive smoothies and the occasional rack of ribs—apparently it was an efficient protein.

“Sir, here you go, sir!” Sydney saluted him. In her dim-witted worship of him he rotated between being her king, her general, her captain, and her mayor. She’d collected all his spray into one of the many vials she kept around.

His cum was golden. The foundation of their prosperity was selling it around town and state to housewives.

“Missed a spot, Syd!” Anna exclaimed. Sure enough, a white streak had landed on the top of Sydney’s tits and was making its way for the safe shadow of her cleavage. True to form, Anna pounced, sinking her face into the soft, generous mounds of titty. Sydney let out a soft, satisfied moan.

“Girls!” Jeremy tried again, laughing. What a morning.

Anna’s house was the least sexy place in the world, even though it had Anna in it. Even the crosses were stark and bare and mean, and there were a lot of them. They stayed in the living room in case her room was bugged. The TV was way too big. It looked about to turn on, and yell at them.

“I kissed him,” Sydney reported. She examined Anna’s dark eyes very closely. “It turns out I’m straight. Super-sorry for leading you on.”

“Oh nooooo,” Anna exclaimed, in monotone.

“Yeah.” They talked in hushed tones. Anna’s parents were supposed to be gone for the weekend, and they desperately needed the privacy. Still. Sydney kept hearing a phantom key in a phantom lock. She’d climbed in through a window, to evade the Ring camera. And there were Anna’s cousins, somewhere in town.

“So what does he think?” Anna said. She kept touching herself, and Sydney was on fire from the view. Part of that was the growing sensitivity of her body-by-Jeremy. The other part was watching Anna cup the increasing heft of her tits. She was getting Jeremy fluids in small dribs and drabs, and was still getting bigger tits. What a full dose would do...

“I still don’t know what he thinks. I had to explain it to him. I did it by asking questions. Jeremy, are my boobs bigger? Jeremy, is my tush thicker? Do you think you’re DOING something to me, Jeremiah? Took him FOREVER. You know what he said after we kissed?”

“I thought you were gay?”

“He said, are you okay. I think he thought I had hit my head.”

They both laughed.

“That’s good! That’s endearing,” Anna said. “DID you hit your head?”

“I might as well be,” Sydney said. She decided to heft her own rack. It was getting awfully large. Anna’s eyes traced underboob, and Sydney felt, once again, like she’d been smacked on the noggin by a hammer.

“And how is he, as a kisser?” Anna said, not lightly enough. The little flicker of jealousy was thrilling. Oh yes. Sydney had already played this moment in her head, and Anna was making it so very real. The spark in her eyes. The pout in her lips.

“You wanna find out?” Sydney said.

Sydney had it in a vial. A lot of Jeremy spit. She’d practically sucked it out of his mouth. And although she’d been floating in stupid bliss she’d diligently spit it out later. Jeremy had probably thought she had chipmunk cheeks.

Anna bit her lip as Sydney swirled it around. How big were her tits going to get? They both needed to know. God, did Sydney need to know.

“Sir, can we do the watch?” Sydney said. Her face was wet with Anna kisses, as were her mammoth tits, and most of the rest of her body. “Please please please-y please?”

“Oh, yes! The watch!” Anna chimed in.

Did he have time? Jeremy was working very long hours. He told himself that startup phases were the hardest part of any business, even one based on transformative jizz.

Eventually it would be time to lounge around in the mansion with his personal and devoted harem. Once he’d paid off the mortgage and was on top of the utilities and the grocery bill and the endless spending on necessities like cute tops, skimpy bottoms, and spangly bikinis.

The girls knelt in front of him...

“Oh, alllllllright, sure,” Jeremy said, to their immediate and joyful smiles. Such simple creatures. He occasionally felt a pang of guilt in that direction—these had been intelligent girls, before their devolution into his personal fuck pets. “You are getting, uh...”

“Sleepy, master,” Sydney prompted. “We’re getting super sleepy.”

They faced each other, and Jeremy dangled the watch in between. It had been—which girl? One of the girl’s idea. If he was going to be a masterful mind controller, he needed a full tool chest. Not just strong sweat. He had a hypno swirlie disc and a really long fake silver pendulum. But they most liked the watch.

“Wow, we’re already asleep and highly susceptible!” Anna exclaimed. Her eyes flickered between the spiraling pocket watch, on its faux-gold chain, and Sydney.

“Uhh—” Jeremy paused. What had—

“She MEANS our soft little girl brains are wide open to your masterful guidance,” Sydney said, in monotone. Even in trance, Jeremy thought, she was helping.

“Uhh- right. Okay, you girls,” Jeremy said.

“Okay, us girls,” they repeated back at him. And now what? His mind was still in that pleased, foggy post-cum state. As usual. “Uhhh—you will—will—”

“We’ll get those thigh-high black boots we found online yesterday,” Sydney said. “Master.”

“Oh—uh—”

“And the party girl bracelets that light up!” Anna added.

“Okay—good—that’s good—and—”

“Tell us that we’ll do anything to please you, master,” Sydney said, quietly. Her eyes slid over to Anna.

“You’ll do anything to please me,” Jeremy said, relieved. It was so hard to come up with good lines on the fly.

“I’ll do anything for you,” said Sydney. And Anna. Their eyes glassy and unblinking, on each other.

“Uh. Yeah. You are ever deeper in love. With me.”

“We are ever deeper in love,” Sydney and Anna said.

“With me.”

“With you,” they whispered, and Anna blinked, several times, and wiped at her eyes. There had to be something in her lashes, Jeremy figured. Probably cum.

“Maybe... her? Jeremy? Um, sorry! I mean, Jeremy, SIR?” Sydney said. She pointed a trembling finger at Anna.

The tremble was real. She was terrified. She’d never been more scared. The Plan was at its most precarious.

“Her?” Jeremy said, examining Anna.“The—what’s the word for black-haired girls?”

“Hmm?” Anna’s hair flowed in new, long waves. A side effect of Jeremy Shampoo was rapid hair growth. Sometimes she and Anna sat and brushed each other’s hair, laughing at how cliche it was, leaning back into—

“Like, Brunettes are brown hair. Blondes are, uh, blondes,” Jeremy said. His little mouth screwed up, in concentration. “What’re black haired girls?”

“Black hair,” Sydney said. She rubbed at her forehead with her pink-tipped nails. “It’s just, black hair.”

They were making out quite a bit. Jeremy didn’t seem to have an issue with Sydney routinely sucking the spit out of him. It wasn’t like he had other kissers, to compare Sydney to. She kept him hydrated with handy gatorade bottles, at his fingertips.

There was so much riding on this meeting, and Sydney needed to rush Jeremy along. The good news was, she had found a reliable way in to his affections, and it was careful measurements. Jeremy loved nothing so much as taking lengthy, thorough readings on her bust and butt, recording them in a black notebook with underlines and exclamation marks underneath the numbers. And he was enthralled with s of her increasing interest in flighty pop stars, celebrity trash, and smaller words.

Hopefully, enthralled enough. He’d brought up The Second Girl before Sydney had been quite ready. She’d had to bring Anna over unprepared, makeup minimally applied.

“How about THAT girl? The asian one? Oh—there’s another blonde! Matched blondes!”

“No no no!” Sydney said, too quickly. “Sir—just look at the—black-haired girl—look at her TITS, sir, they’re soooo mouthwatering. Mmmm, imagine my—imagine your lips all over those. And mine. I mean, your lips on my tits, and hers—”

Damn it, she was blowing it. And Anna needed out. Her household was not safe. Maybe her Dad had found something, maybe he was just generically loaded and enraged, but the aggression level in the household was purple.

Anna had packed a bag at Sydney’s call and gone out a back window, her brand new boobs wobbling in a light blue dress. Sydney had picked it out.

And still Jeremy’s eyes flickered across the coffee shop, at some rando asian girl, even at some Mom who got her blonde from a bottle.

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said, taking a step back. “I was just kind of joking. Bad enough what—I’m doing to you. Did you really forget what exponents are, yesterday? I mean—wow.”

Sydney made a decision. This was Jeremy. There was no concept of too direct. She rippled her fingers across Jeremy’s pants, and felt him stir.

“I think she’s perfect. You know what she makes me think of? Both of us, sucking your cock,” she whispered, in his ear. “Every morning. For the rest of our—your life.”

He quivered. It was time to drop the bomb. The bimbo bomb. She’d been working on her vocals. It helped that her voice had gotten more liquid and lazy.

“Master.”

“Girls, I really do need to get to work, time is money. Or is it the other way around? You know what I mean,” Jeremy said. When was the last time he’d had a quiet morning in, just getting his cock sucked?

Over the weekend he’d gone to Plano, to recruit for the newest branch of Sweat Equity LLC. True, the girls had gone with, taking turns talking filth into his ear, and trying to get him to crash into road signs. But it had been hardly relaxing, especially since he’d needed to produce semen on demand for an entire house of unconvinced Dallas housewives. Sydney had ended up driving back, he’d been so exhausted.

Come to think, when was the last time the girls had actually, ACTUALLY sucked—

“Master, pleeeease we just got our new outfits! Can we please please please show you PLEASE?” Sydney said. Anna was already pulling hers on.

“We have a whole cheerleading routine,” Anna said, in her pouty voice.

“Oh—” another pursed lip look from Sydney. “—kay. But this is 100% it, alright? I’m a busy man.”

He watched them cheerfully strip, overstuffed bodies bouncing around. Really there was no way he could turn down a cheerleading routine. It was an unending source of guilty, aching erections that these two had once been the sourest emo girls in Norman East High School. They’d worn ratty flannels and dangerously toxic scowls. And now they were vapid, pneumatic, and HIS.

“Give me a J!” Sydney said, raising her purple pom-poms. The outfits were mostly a vehicle for underboob. The shorts were matching, white, and very tight, and Jeremy had to imagine they were custom-ordered. The girls had butts that required special tailoring. There were rhinestones all over.

“E!” Anna answered.

“And then give me an R!”

“M-Y!”

“What’s that spell?” Sydney shouted, cheerfully.

“I don’t know!” Anna said.

“I don’t know either!” Sydney answered. They went back to back, asses colliding. Jeremy couldn’t hold a grin back. He was probably going to hell, for turning two sulky girls into empty-headed pets. But what a road to get there.

“Do you think we’re getting dumber?” Sydney said.

“Hmmmm,” Anna said, through her new lips. Anna had a slight lisp, just like Sydney. They had the heaviest cockpillows in town, these days. “I mean, maybe? It’s doing a LOT to us. Like, we definitely sound dumber.”

“We do,” Sydney agreed. “I told Jeremy I forgot about South America. But I don’t know. I haven’t looked at a map lately. Maybe I did. And I’m a lot hornier. Anna, are you a lot hornier?”

“Oh definitely. Very definitely,” Anna assured her. “I’m turning into a plaything, after all! For men!”

“Yeah, for men,” Sydney said.

They sat in Jeremy’s truck, a 1987 Toyota pickup. Anna pretty much had to sit in Sydney’s lap for all three of them to fit.

“So what do we do if we hear a gunshot?” Sydney said.

They were outside of Anna’s house. Former house.

They’d sent in Jeremy to deliver the news that Anna was moving in, with him. She was his girlfriend, and if anyone asked, they were having ionate missionary sex a lot.

“Dad won’t,” Anna said, firmly. Sydney kept her opinions to herself on that. “I think Jeremy’s whatever-he-does, his scent, I think it calms men down. And I’ve been spitting in Mom’s diet cokes for awhile. She’s lost some mean bitch, for sure. I hate to give her great tits, but hell.”

“Maybe she’s getting stupid, just like us,” Sydney mused. “I mean, I’m calling him Master. I collect his semen for resale. I’m spending a lot of time looking at cute outfits on the internet.”

“WE call him Master, and WE collect his boy juice,” Anna said. “And lets be NICE to my boyfriend, dummy.”

“OUR boyfriend, stupid,” Sydney said. “And... you know we’re not done. I’ve been texting with Kayla.”

“Kayla is in Chicago.”

“Nope.”

They both tensed as the door slammed open. But it was a happy slam—Anna’s Dad had his arm around Jeremy, who looked reassuringly masculine. Even from a distance the girls could see his relief, and delight, that his daughter was straight. He was thrilled.

“Here we go. I’ll simper around him a lot better if you stick three fingers in me real quick,” Anna said. She cocked her head. “Is THAT stupid? I’m really horny and stuff.” Sydney’s pussy pulsed. She added a fourth finger.

“Oh no, Master needs to cum again!” Sydney exclaimed. She held up a finger, and then nearly pirouetted on her long legs into the walk-in closet. The real estate agent hadn’t known it, but it was the walk-in that had sold the house. Sydney emerged with a white doctor coat over her luscious body.

“Yep. Severe case of Needs To Cum,” she said, mock serious. “Alright, Master. You need to fuck a pussy real bad. It is the only treatment shown to work by the FBI. Please come with Doctor Pussy and Nurse Titties.”

“Oh, is that me?” Anna said, happily. “Nurse Titties?” She grabbed her chest, only partially able to grip her breasts. They were just that big. “Oh, right!”

Jeremy allowed them to stand him up and walk him forwards. He tried to make a contribution. “Are you girls doing the flashcards I ordered? And the—How To Read book?” He yo-yo’d between guilt over their intellectual degradation, and intense sexual satisfaction in it. Often at the same time.

“We’re TRYING, Master,” Sydney said. “But its the vowels. They’re giving us a lot of trouble.” His cock led the way, through the polished oak corridors of the upper level. The bank had only given him the mortgage after he’d run a full 5K and sweated his way to approval by a glassy-eyed lady banker. But then he still had to pay it.

“Because I feel—I mean—I want you girls to read. Uh. I guess. Sydney you were an Honors Student, ? And Anna, weren’t you in Drama Club and—a whole bunch of clubs?”

“Only through Sophomore year, then Mom saw me in Rent and—” Anna blinked. “Umm. I mean. Wasn’t I ALWAYS a sexy, slutty cheerleader bimbo slut, Master?”

“Maaaaassssterrrrr,” Sydney corrected. She had it so perfect. Drawn out, half-whispered, needy and wet. Jeremy’s cock twitched. “Shhhhhh, Anna. And how would you like Kayla today, Master? Can I make a suggestion?”

He had a meeting at eight, another at nine, and he was going to be late. The girls really needed a firm spanking. He hadn’t built up the nerve to suggest it, but—

“Yes, you can make a suggestion, Sydney,” he said, masterly.

“I think that since we made you so late, you should fuck Kayla from behind as hard and fast as you want, while Anna and I kneel underneath you to catch what cum droplets fall our way, as punishment.”

How did a girl that dumb always know what he wanted? “Sydney, are you the mind controller?” he said. She beamed.

“What—what the HELL happened to you two?” Kayla said.

“A lot,” Sydney said. “A lot lot.” She caught sight of herself in Kayla’s toothpaste-stained mirror, and primped, reflexively. Her makeup wasn’t perfect—the ruby red lipstick was askew, and her hair could use some combing.

There was no denying that Jeremy had changed her. For one thing, she had the sweet-acid taste of pussy in her mouth, pretty much all the time. When it wasn’t cum. And she did spend long hours on her hair, that was new.

Also the tripled-in-size tits. The important thing was her nipples were big and long and stuck out into her paper-thin gauze dress, and had been recently sucked by the girl standing next to her. Whose teats had been in her mouth. Her eyes DID look pretty vacant, but then, Anna’s tits were getting pretty huge.

Kayla hugged a stuffie, one of dozens on her bed, and scooted back from the two bimbos that had invaded her room.

“Those can’t possibly be real,” she said, examining Anna and Sydney’s tits.

Kayla had been the success story in their misfit toy high school friend group. The one who had soaked up all the thin intellectual gruel the town had to offer, and gotten into a real University. She’d escaped. It SHOULD have been her Sophomore year at U Chicago.

Except she was home, wearing sweatpants and a tanktop, and the bags under her eyes extended nearly past her nose. She smelled very bad. Her skin was waxed and sallow. She’d been skinny in high school. She was alarmingly thin now. Just the spokes peeking out below her pajama bottoms were enough to cause concern.

“You two look like—I mean, I don’t know. I can’t tell anymore,” Kayla said. “Maybe I look like shit and you girls are normal.”

“You look fucking TERRIBLE,” Anna said.

Kayla’s eyes sought Sydney for confirmation.

“Yeah. You look like an air mattress that got rolled out,” Sydney said. “And you stink,” She sat on the bed. Her generous new thighs rubbed against each other. She’d spent most of her meager savings on dolphin shorts and other sexy-but-cheap outfits, to fit her brand new ass. An investment, she’d told herself, and known it was a lie.

She needed to be hot now. She was trying to hold on to the hottest slut in town. Anna unleashed was a full-time job to please.

“YOU two look like—oh shit, did you two GET TOGETHER?” Kayla said. A dim light showed in her eyes. “Really? Wow! Oh my god, Anna, your parents—”

“Kayla, how many pills are you taking every day?” Sydney said. It was funny, Jeremy liked to tease her about her vapid, flittering attention span. And yet she’d never felt more focused.

“Eight,” Kayla said, deflating again. “Ten when it’s bad.”

“How often is it bad?”

“It’s bad.”

“And yet you feel...?”

“I’m not supposed to say it, my therapist said don’t say it to friends, just to her,” Kayla said, with mottled brightness.

She drew a line across her throat, still smiling.

Sydney put an arm around her. “I didn’t notice. In High School. I’m sorry. No excuse, I was way smarter than.”

“Oh, I held it together then. I thought being in a different geographic location would change me. And then it didn’t.” Kayla said. She cautiously put down her big blue star stuffie. There were two oversized plush stuffies on either side of her, pressing into her rib cage. Foam and nylon felt unnecessary, suddenly.

“Yeah, I’ve been there. So, we have a plan. We figured it out. For all of us. And it’ll only mean one drug and a few injections,” Sydney said.

“And then—what? The boob fairy visits you?” Kayla’s voice shook.

“And then, even though we live here, and even though we are who we are, and were who we were,” Sydney said. She gave Kayla a serious look. Hopefully it was serious, behind the mascara and powder and puff. “We’ll be happy.”

“What’s the catch?” Kayla said, with that same light, shaking voice. She was unsure where to put her hands. Anna and Sydney loomed in, from either side. If she cried, it would be on to a perfect rack. “It’s a suppository? Up the butt?”

“Probably occasionally.”

Kayla’s work to present Jeremy with the perfect pussy didn’t go unappreciated.

He’d been learning how to compliment his girls, which had turned out to be pretty challenging. Even though they were his affectionate and devoted slaves, they were still women, Jeremy had learned. Women were women, even when addicted to his jizz. So there was a time to compliment Kayla on her “hairless slave twat” but not all the time. There was a lot of finesse to it.

“Is my pink princess pussy wonderfully wet for you, Master?” Kayla cooed. Befitting her status in harem hierarchy she had waited for him outside the main bedroom. She had an ottoman she liked to fuck on. It was bright white, and part of the game they played was avoiding stains. Which meant she had to take every droplet.

But Kayla was up for it. She wiggled her rear end at him. Everything was plump, prepared, and fuckable. Her ass filled the couch, it nearly filled the room.

Where Sydney was blonde and bountiful, and Anna the walking wet dream, Kayla was plump, plush, and endlessly huggable. She had a cute upturned nose and preferred pigtails. She liked getting smacked on the ass, and Jeremy liked watching it jiggle. She was just so grippable.

His cock was surprisingly tense, despite getting his cock diligently sucked by his star sluts. Or—no, they hadn’t sucked it, had they, but at any rate, there was a dewy wet snatch ready for him, and Jeremy sank in to it, grateful. Kayle wore white thigh-highs that matched the ottoman.

“Master’s cock is DEFINITELY bigger,” Sydney said, seriously. She knelt underneath him. “Mm-hmm. And these balls. May I cup them, Master?”

“That’s—okay—Syd,” Jeremy wheezed. He took hold of Kayla’s ass. It still seemed to be getting bigger. He would tell her when to start. Probably never.

“Master, would you like to practice your dirty talk?” Kayla said, between delighted moans.

“I would, my—uhhh—Sinophone Slut?” He’d looked that one up. He’d struck out with Oriental Whore and Mandarin Pet and pretty much any reference to her skin color didn’t go over well. “No? It’s—it’s actually a reference to—”

Total silence from Kayla.

“My... fortune cookie?”

The temperature dropped. Which was good. Cooling the mansion was costing him a fortune.

“Tell her you don’t even what her face looks like,” Sydney whispered. “She’s just a pussy to you. Tell her that.”

“Ooh, tell her your dreams only had space for one of her ass cheeks,” Anna suggested, on the other side. They’d kept the cheerleader outfits on.

“I don’t even what your fucking face looks like, butt slut!” Jeremy tried, and was rewarded with a warm, welcome squeeze from Kayla’s pussy. He had to struggle to stay upright.

“That’s so NICE of you, Master!” Kayla said. Even her voice was overstuffed. Relieved, he reached around to maul her breasts. They were uncomplicated, beach ball titties, and his hands could get lost in them. “Are you gonna cum in my pussy or my ass today?”

“So, it’s semen, we’ve been drugging you with semen,” Sydney said. They were at the Dungeon’s Android, which had been pressed into service as the only gay-ish spot in town. It sold the occasional baseball card as a cover.

Kayla made a little cute gasp, and put her hands to her lips. “That’s—disgusting!” She took a huge gulp of boba tea. It was her second cup. Her cheeks had filled out right away, which had relieved Sydney no small amount.

“Oh, don’t be upset,” Anna said, peevish. “Sydney and I haven’t gotten our spunk all week, thanks to you.”

Kayla had definitely taken to the stuff. Her figure had thickened and broadened into sprouting new curves in just the last week. All three of them now had tits that nearly touched the formica table, and if Kayla’s lips weren’t the same sugar-bow perfection as the other two, they were definitely looking puffy, wrapped around a straw.

“That’s—so disgusting,” Kayla said. “So, so disgusting. And it’s like, magic boob cum? God!”

“Kayla, you’ve been guzzling it all week, no questions asked,” Sydney said. Kayla let a little smile peek through, and only slowly squashed it. “Look what its doing to your body. And mind. And libido. And personality. It being cum is like, a lower concern.”

“It does... taste.. prettttttty good,” Kayla itted. She finished her boba, and shifted her shoulders. Already, she was jiggling.

“Anyway. So it’s magic boob cum. Are you still trying to wear a bra? We told you?”

“I like how tight it feels,” Kayle said. She picked them up. Kayle wore a white tanktop that showcased how rounded she was getting, fast. The bags under her eyes were gone. They’d been replaced with the funbags on her chest. She wore bright pastel colors and gold hoop earrings. Kayla settled herself, and forced her face into seriousness.

“Alright, girls. Let me recap. You picked a super sad suicide girl who was willing to swallow anything, why not, you pumped her full of addictive—is it addictive? It—yeah. I need more. I’m addicted to semen, huh?”

“Oh, definitely,” Anna nodded. “Definitely.”

“Okay. Addictive mystical cum that would give her Double-D titties and an ass to match in about a week, peach her pussy into a constantly juicy flower, make her so horny she’d cum riding her bike—I’m riding my bike a lot—and so wet she has to towel down her thighs. Also my acne cleared up. That’s what happened?”

“Yes,” Sydney said. The store proprietor, Holly, was peering at them, frowning. “So, how do you feel about it?”

“I feel AMAZING,” Kayle said. She giggled, and the other two ed in. The toes of all three of them were intertwined, underneath the table. “I feel sooooo good. Oh my gawwwwd. Yesterday I ate three boxes of cheerios and then sat on top of the dryer. It was the best afternoon I’ve ever had. What’re you girls planning with me, now that I’m your cum-addled dope girl? Rent me out?” Another brainless giggle. Kayla had gotten a lot of cum, very quickly. Sydney had deliberated on that, but the situation had seemed dire.

“That’s not The Plan, no,” Sydney said. She tilted her head forward. Three pairs of nearly latex lips met, at the center of the table.

“So, what? Prostitution? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to keep feeling like this.”

“Easy, girl. Easy. You’re ing our harem, Kayla. Because here’s the thing,” Sydney whispered. “We really need one person who actually wants to be penetrated by a dick.”

“Is it a really big dick?” Kayla said, hopefully.

“Ohhhh, please cum in me! Please please please please please please!” Kayla begged. She’d lost her always limited composure, and was madly humping back at him, squeezing whenever whatever she was feeling let her.

The world’s best pussy had him in its grip, and would not let go.

Jeremy badly wanted to, but first he made sure to glance at Sydney. It was her responsibility to keep track of every ounce of his cum. And although it was doubtlessly hard on her empty girl head, he’d offloaded the ing and taxes on her silly shoulders as well. She’d reassured him—it was called MALE LEADERSHIP. He just needed to point, and shoot. She’d handle the rest.

Sydney gave a tiny nod.

Relieved, Jeremy shot his wad. “Here you go, cum slut! Klitty Kayla!” Cum slut was always safe, as dirty talk went. They all agreed—whatever else they were, they were cum sluts.

Kayla made a difficult vocalization, possibly from her lungs. It sounded like an elephant giving birth. She also briefly cried, into the ottoman. It nearly put Jeremy off his stroke, but the girls had reassured him that Kayla was just unusually sensitive.

She definitely did like the nickname Klitty Kayla—she showed it with her pussy squeeze.

Kayla was supposed to be the maid, but mostly she was responsible for keeping Jeremy’s cum off the floor, and furniture, and walls, and safely inside of her. At that she was extremely diligent. Everything else about cleaning floors and dusting and making beds, she wasn’t very good at. But that was okay. Especially when she squeezed.

“Good boy, good boy,” Sydney said, in her singsong voice, watching him grunt out a final squirt. As he pulled out the other two, giggling, were right there, attacking Kayla’s pussy with their ever-ready tongues. And Sydney had one of her ever-present cups, good to go.

Sure enough, the ottoman was still perfectly spotless.

Jeremy withdrew. His mouth hung open, and the clutch of his mind took awhile to engage a flywheel. He needed to—needed to—what? Make money. Yes. Fuck his girls. He was the master. The—mayor or something.

He was sort of foggy where Kayla had come from. Apparently they’d gone to high school together, but Kayla had been in the AP track, college-bound, and Jeremy had had no at all with that crowd.

Sydney and Anna had delivered her as a birthday present, tied in white ribbons and already needy for his cock. Apparently they’d conceived it as some sort of harebrained revenge scheme on local girls too good for him, turning them from co-eds to cumsluts. Without asking his permission first.

Jeremy had lectured both of them, and made them spank each other, while he grimly watched. It had been his first venture into real discipline. If he was being honest with himself, he kinda would’ve liked to watch her climb down the GPA ladder. By the time she’d showed up, she was already a straight DD student.

He’d even tried to detox Kayla, one difficult morning, until she’d climbed on to his rod and cummed herself unconscious. After that, well, the perfect pussy didn’t show up every day.

He left the girls to the job of licking his cum out of Kayla’s painted, oozing slit, and walked into the shower. The water helped with the post-cum fog, but also reminded him of the water bill. The acreage of girl beauty products along the far wall each popped up in dollar signs as he examined them, one by one. The mortgage was due in four days, and the electricity bill was surprisingly high.

He slumped underneath the weight of it, briefly, and then turned the water off, so it wouldn’t cost him any more money. Jeremy closed his eyes. He’d been a nobody. And now he was a somebody, but the weight of it—

The water turned back on.

When he opened his eyes Sydney was there, still in her cheerleading outfit, luxuriating under the warm waves of hot water. Her hair glowed, deliciously damp.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“For what?” Jeremy said.

“Oh, gosh, everything!” his brainless bimbo gushed. She rubbed affectionately at his chest. “How does it feel to be the manliest man that ever manned?”

She was right. Of course. Sydney was always right. He was a MAN. He had the bitches to prove it. It was his job to square up his manly shoulders and face a world, and its bills. His hands had to look like THIS so her hands could look like THIS. Although his hands were actually pruney and soft, since his manual labor was primarily dick-focused. Mostly he either sat there or gamely thrust back and forth.

“HURRY, Master, Hole needs you, and I know she’s made a big breakfast for a big man,” Sydney said. “Although....”

She made to kneel, eyes locked on his dick, which was returning to full mast. His bimbos just couldn’t help themselves. But he had responsibilities. Manly ones.

“Not now,” Jeremy said, to her mewing disappointment. “Hole needs every drop she can get.”

“Whatever the FUCK happened to you three, I want IN,” Holly said.

“Ohhhh my gawwwwwwdddd.” Kayla said, dreamily. “Fucking. Ohhhh fucking.” She looked at Holly without seeing her.

Kayla had climbed Mount Jeremy for the first time the previous day, and was still very out of it. The direct seminal transmission had added extra curvature to her newly generous ass, and the Dungeon’s Android chairs now squeaked beneath her.

“Uhh—sorry?” Sydney said, distracted. She’d been summing up on a pad of paper, no calculator, in part to test Jeremy’s theory that they were all becoming his soft-headed fuck sluts. It WAS hard to do the math, but this might’ve been because Anna, next to her, was running a very distracting finger up and down the back of her neck.

“I WANT IN,’ Holly said, taking the fourth seat.

She swept chestnut hair back and regarded the three plush bimbos with her famously fierce eyes.

Holly wasn’t part of The Plan, but she was also not to be disregarded.

She, herself, had been a one-girl Pride March, and had ended up wielding her I WILL ALWAYS BE A GIRL sign like Donatello’s bo staff. She had fought cops. And she WAS a friend. Sydney owed her, they all did.

Still. If Sydney’s math was right, even with Jeremy’s recently increased production they were only netting 12 oz of nut butter a day, Too much of it was going into Kayla’s ass and pussy, and they were just starting to get resale traction among the local Mom book clubs.

“Nothing happened. We’re just getting fat,” Sydney said, keeping her eyes down. “We’re eating a lot of pies. There’s nothing else to do here.”

“Fuck off. You girls even smell different. And let me be blunt, ladies. You’re making my chairs greasy. What the FUCK is going on?”

“Nn—”

Anna gave Sydney’s hand a squeeze, and that was enough.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Sydney conceded. The store was empty—it was mid-day, and Jeremy was off at their new office. “We grew huge tits through illegal and insane medication.”

“Yeah? I tried that too,” Holly said. She pulled off her Iron Maiden shirt, to demonstrate. There were breasts there, Sydney conceded, but not the helium balloons she now sported. “I’ve injected estradiol that came in overseas mail inside of washed out beer bottles. MAYBE washed out. I’ve had FDA agents leave me threatening voicemails. I nearly started boiling down horse urine. So you girls need to tell me how the FUCK you went from plywood to plush in, what, a month? Good GOD Kayla those are enormous.”

Kayla giggled, wetly, and did not put them away. She was really proud of her new boobs. It didn’t seem likely she was going back to U Chicago. If she did, she’d need a new Student ID picture.

“I’ll do whatever I have to do,” Holly said, leaning across the table. “I’ll do, anything. Anything.”

Hole was waiting, as usual, under the table. It was where she lived, at least when Jeremy was around.

On top of it, breakfast was magnificent.

The theme of the day was clearly cinnamon—three homemade yeast-risen buns but also a dusting on the fat slabs of bacon, and another on the spanish latte. There was a bowl near by piled high with muffins.

And underneath the table, dessert.

Jeremy’s stomach roared. He was starving nearly all the time. He was somewhat aware that his calories were being converted to semen production. He ate with both hands, face close to the plate. He automatically pulled his chair close to the table, mostly for eating purposes.

In his more intellectual moments, increasingly rare, he wondered what else his overactive balls were burning, to raise quota.

A very gentle set of hands sidled his shorts down, and steadied his cock as it wobbled around. Jeremy didn’t even break stride, feeding himself an assembly line of bacon.

A very luscious pair of lips engulfed the head of his cock, and from there, steadily shifted downwards.

Hole started to suck.

She was an amazing cocksucker. Talented, efficient, caring. One had on his balls, neatly cradling them, the other toying with the base of his shaft. And she never even missed a suck when he shifted, to get a spoon. Even with multiple orgasms under his belt, his cock responded vigorously.

“MMmmmmm,” Hole said, the vibration rippling up and down his shaft. She would suck as long as he let her, all under the table.

Jeremy rarely even saw Hole. Bits and pieces. Fat, plump lips, wrapped around his cock. Hair that hid her face, very long bangs and the rest sideswept.

It gave a very real impression that her plump, smiling, cock-sucker lips were all she was.

Jeremy finished the muffins and grabbed the enormous bowl of oatmeal always cooling on the side of the table. He just needed the calories, even if it was comparatively tame porridge. But getting his dick sucked was always good flavoring. Plus Hole had thoughtfully added an extra handful of golden raisins.

Jeremy had no idea where Hole had arrived from. And by the time she’d shown up, his imagination had gotten thinner. He’d rolled into breakfast one morning, cautious and feeling vulnerable in the new mansion, only for her mouth to greet him. Her blowjobs were just a touch beneath Sydney’s, perhaps because they arrived like clockwork twice a day, while Sydney’s were—

Jeremy paused—were... when was the last time....

Hole did a special move with her tongue, that made it feel like she had it wrapped all the way around, prehensile. Jeremy grunted. With Hole there was no need to mention imminent orgasms. The needy girl engulfed him to the base.

“Good Hole,” he said. Who knew where she slept. He figured some sort of kennel.

“This is cum,” Holly remarked, sliding it around. “Not even with any special colors or, I don’t know, a foam.”

“Mmmmmmm, I’ll have what she’s having,” Kayla said, around another set of giggles. She had an everlasting supply of those. Kayla had thrown away all her old clothes that morning, vowing never to let her legs be covered past the thigh ever again. Maybe, maybe to the knee, during heavy snowfall.

“It’s cum,” Sydney confirmed. “It does all the work. It came out of a cock, and then into Kayla, and then into Anna’s mouth, and then my mouth, and then that vial.”

Holly held it up. Little bubbles fizzed. “I’m not gonna ask what part of Kayla,” she remarked.

“We don’t know if—” Sydney started.

“OBVIOUSLY,” Holly said, and shook her head. “Bottoms up, ladies.” She threw it back with one quick motion. Her ponytail bobbed. “How will I know if it’s working?”

Sydney and Anna exchanged a look. The store was fairly busy. A lot of nerds had realized that a trio of busty, scantily-clad girls were spending their early afternoons playing magic the gathering at the Dungeon’s Android, and also kissing and stroking each other.

“We weren’t expecting you to immediately drink the vial of mystery cum,” Sydney said. “We were gonna say, lets go into the back. And cautiously dose you. That was.... a lot. All at once.”

“For TITS? I’d do a quart! I’d chug a milk gallon! So, now what?” Holly said.

“Uh. Well. With that much? All at once? You’ll cum. Really, really, really hard,” Anna said, leaning forward. “REALLY hard.”

Holly was expressionless, for a moment.

Her fists balled up. A hint of pink showed across her cheeks.

Then she said, her vocal training cracking, “Ohyeahitsstartingtodo—”

The store patrons, covertly watching by the Catans, were treated to Holly having a sweaty, noisy orgasm at the gaming tables.

The girls dragged her to the backroom and waited patiently while Holly had a lengthy orgasmic experience, followed by an equally long gender euphoria cry.

“I KNEW it was in there,” she said, eventually, voice still shaky, but, Sydney noticed, back at her usual , maybe even up a notch. “I knew I could girl cum like that. I can feel it in my TOES. So what do I owe you? Deed to the store? Sex slavery? It’s sex slavery.”

“I thought it would be sex slavery too!” Kayla chimed in. She’d gotten obviously excited, watching Holly thrash around, and was sitting on her legs. Not that it took much to get Kayla randy, now.

“Holly, if you want to be part of The Plan, you need to do three things,” Sydney said. As usual when she was making decisions she took Anna’s hand. It was very warm. Sydney was feeling very wet, herself.

“Anything. I’ll do—anything.”

“First, you have to become the world’s best cocksucker.”

“Done. Months ago,” Holly said, dreamily.

“Second, you’re going to move in with us. And we’ll have to come up with some reason you’re mouth-only. At least, you know. To start.”

“Is he...? This guy..?”

“He’ll come around. We’ll think of something. It’ll help if you drain his dick a lot.”

“Easy. Because I’m the world’s best cocksucker. Done.”

“Third, you’re going to be the cook. You have to learn to cook.”

“Oooooooooooh damn,” Holly said. She sucked in a breath. “Actual cooking. Damn. That’s a big ask of a t-girl. But, you know what, I’ll do it, if it means huge titties and cock in my mouth.”

It had been a long, hard day at the office. Very literally.

Jeremy made an effort to stay on top of the arms of his growing empire—logistics, ing, production, packaging. JAS Serum Incorporated was, much like his cock, getting very big very quickly. At a 1/100 dilute his cum improved mood, complexion, sexual responsiveness, energy, and much more. There were gentle but real long-term effects on breast size and clit sensitivity.

They’d avoided retail and sold directly through word of mouth, often actual mouth-to-mouth.

Sydney had set the whole thing up, bless her, and staffed it with local librarians she apparently knew. Who knew other librarians, who knew other librarians.

He’d stopped trying to learn the names of the long line of girls coaxing more jizz out of him. Often it was the same girl, just steely gray hair now youthened into a bountiful blonde, wholly transformed into a buxom, giggling, but determined cum pump.

Still, he’d noticed they kept a certain maternal attitude, even when whispering filthy encouragement into a tired ear. “I know you’ve got more in those big, heavy balls, for me,” his VP of ing had whispered, one slick hand stroking sympathetically on his towering cock. “Did you know my pussy hair fell out this morning? Do you want to—ohhhh here it comes. Gooooood boyyyyyyyyy.”

Every morning he woke up determined to take the reins of his business, and by noon—or earlier—or earlier and earlier—he was lost in a muggy sex haze, squirting on command to so many busty librarians. He’d barely been able to process that they’d cracked ten million in sales, even with the girls cheering and clapping. He’d just had a big, dopey grin on.

Home at the manor he stared, blankly, at his keys, for some time. It was dark out. He probably should’ve told the girls when he was getting home. He probably—should’ve—

He’d cum—thirty times? Forty? And yet his balls didn’t even ache. He wanted more. To sit and eat and let his girls stroke him and call him a good boy and he wouldn’t worry about money. Or even think. He’d just be the Master—or Owner—or Mayor—or—

Or something? He could barely think.

The door was flanked by deliveries—cardboard boxes filled with expensive, cute outfits, no doubt. He was too tired to count the expense, or even count the boxes. He needed—needed—

“KEYS,” he said out loud, and slapped himself. His cock shook, from the impact. It was poking out of his basketball shorts, lately. The girls had lined up to kiss it goodnight, when he’d finally left. He opened the door.

His harem wasn’t lined up, like they should’ve been.

The hallway was littered with pricey shoes and was empty. Dumbfounded, jaw slack, Jeremy kicked his sandals off and made his way inside, blinking. No girls, he thought, through a cum-addled head. Where were the girls? Cool Sydney and shy Anna and giggling Kayla and quiet Hole.

Distantly he heard them. The basement.

He padded onwards.

Girls. His girls. They could feed him and pleasure him and put him to bed. He was their—what was it? He was so—cum-foggy.

Jeremy stepped heavily down the stairs and pushed the door open.

Inside were—his girls? No. Yes?

He gaped at them, mouth open.

All four of them were around the card table, playing—some sort of game? Or at least there were lots of cards with colored borders in neat rows and columns, and dice and all sorts of things on the green felt. The air smelled—not like perfume? It had an orange, acrid stink to it, and there were metal cans with edgy designs that Jeremy felt too dull to read.

The girls themselves wore pajamas and loose tanktops, with their hair down.

Even—was that HOLE? Had he—ever—really seen her, outside of her table? Hole was scowling, and had her hair swept back, to reveal a heart-shaped face with a cute button nose. Sydney wore a t-shirt that read—he struggled to manage it—WOMEN WANT ME FISH FEAR ME and Anna wore a shirt that said I COME IN PEACE. Only Kayla had her tits out, and she’d stuck a can between them, for ease of access.

Sydney was—saying something. Jeremy had to re-engage the language parts of his brain, and it was getting harder, every day. Yes. Sydney. His queen. She would explain—what was happening. Put it in little words he could process.

“And Kayla, your fucking WHORE of a mill deck sucks and if you play it one more time I’m going to write COCK GOES HERE over your asshole with a permanent marker, and Jeremy will forget your pussy even EXISTS, so—”

At that point Sydney finally saw what the other three were pointing at, and turned around.

“Girls?” Jeremy said, his lower lip quivering.

“You GOT OUT,” Anna said. “You should still be driving. Just fucking GO. You GOT OUT Sydney, it was—I was happy, because you got out, and—”

Here you are, she didn’t say. You came back to me, she didn’t say.

They sat in the back of Anna’s truck and didn’t say a lot of things. Sydney wore a t-shirt she’d gotten in New York, and felt like it was a mistake. She’d worn it because it was cute, and she had driven a thousand miles wanting to be cute for Anna. The problem was, they were a thousand miles, in a circle.

“The check engine light came on, and there’s a good mechanic here. We do know how to fix cars,” Sydney said. She lit a cigarette. Hand it to Anna? No, it was too soon.

She’d have to be patient.

But that was okay. Sydney was very good at patient. She’d spent two years getting Anna to it that she liked girls. She could spend another patient year getting her to it that Sydney was the girl. Patient, long-term, she could do that. She was good at coming up with plans.

“Once its fixed—” Sydney said. No. Damn it. Anna’s eyes sparkled with tears immediately, and she huddled into herself. Sydney had right away clocked Anna’s long sleeve shirt, despite the heat, the shaky voice. She let herself trail off.

“You need to leave,” Anna said, again. “I could just—imagine you out there. I saw that you’d cut your hair and I was—it made me so happy, Sydney.”

Patience, patience, patience, Sydney counseled herself. Don’t say it. Don’t say what the guilt felt like, knowing you were too far away to intervene. Every trip had you as a destination. Don’t say how often you sat up at night, wondering how you’d learn it, if she died.

And definitely don’t mention the other girls with dark black hair that you cried on in bed, Sydney.

“I’m just too country, it turns out,” Sydney said. She even turned the drawl on, and felt a glow when Anna laughed, shakily. She pulled hard on the cigarette, and risked puffing it in Anna’s direction. Anna inhaled hard. Pointedly.

The familiar stars twinkled overhead. They stared at those, because it was easier.

“What is it you want out of life, Anna?” Sydney said. “Given...” she waved her hand at the world.

Another shaky laugh. “Big, big fuckin house,” Anna said.

“Ohhhhh, really?” Sydney said, surprised.

“Big house. Big fucking house. Huge. So huge. Yeah, its materialism, but you know what, I don’t fucking care. I want it. Big!” Anna stood up on the flatbed. Sydney’s eyes traced her thighs. Anna had lost a lot of weight.

“Big ass house,” Sydney echoed.

“Huge! With six bedrooms! And you know what, I want a maid. Maids! I want—MAIDS and a COOK and like—a staff and I want to wear new clothes every day with my hair up, and fuckin JEWELS Sydney, I want all that, I want to be a LUXURY BITCH, Syd!” Anna stamped on the truck bed, hard. She waved her arms around, at the whole world.

“A luxury bitch,” Sydney said. “It’d be nice to be... luxury bitches.”

“I fuckin deserve it! I fucking—I deserve it, Sydney I deserve this I deserve something I just—I’ve eaten so much shit it should be house, maid, cook, bed, clothes, jewels, makeup, every fucking day until I DIE.”

Big ugly tears rolling down Anna’s face, and it was a guilty pleasure for Sydney to it how hot Anna was, right then. A powerful, overwhelming urge to take this woman and kiss the salt right off her face, and hold her incredibly tight, a hug that protected her arms and legs at all angles, that had pulled her all the way back from Seattle.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Sydney said, and waited until Anna had pulled it back in, and sat back down, and then, deliberately, Sydney put her legs on top of Anna’s legs.

“After you get the truck fixed,” Anna said.

“Well, yeah, that’s part one to the plan,” Sydney said. “We’ll have you in the house by part four. The cook and the maid, I’ll have to think about that. But I got a job, you know. You know that shitty coffee shop that’s like, worse than Starbucks, downtown?”

“You got a JOB?” Anna said. You’re saying, she didn’t say. But she started crying again.

“Yeah! I got a fuckin job! And you know who my fuckin Supervisor is is that guy Jeremy, from Chemistry class.”

“MmmmmmmmMmmmasssstterrrrrrRRRrrrrr!” Sydney cooed. “Oh, oh, you’re finally home! We missed you!”

“Did you?” Jeremy mumbled, confused, aggravated. They should’ve been—the images floated in his head, but it was hard to get the words across. He’d done nothing but grunt, all day. The girls should’ve been in a row, at his feet. Waiting with steaks and blowjobs, or something like that.

He was the man, and he’d earned—lots of big money all day.

“Oh my gosh we were worried! I wanted to call you but there’s SO many numbers on a phone and the only ones I could think of were 911! And I was like, I don’t think being super horny for master’s cock is a medical emergency, although, I don’t know, maybe!”

Sydney steadily approached. She made eye . Her makeup was perfect, and she pulled her t-shirt off as she approached.

Jeremy found himself unably backing up, despite being for certain her master. He was very tired. And when his legs hit the chair it felt right to sit down, especially when Sydney smothered his face in tits right away.

“You look TIRED, Master!” Sydney chirped. “Ohhh you’ve been working so hard today, I bet. Anna, rub Master’s shoulders. Kayla, you sit in Master’s lap. And Master, you just rest your head in these nice fat tits, alright?”

“Alright,” Jeremy murmured. They were very warm. And—was that oil, on them? He closed his eyes, and then popped them open. “What were... you girls doing? I—I command you to tell me.”

“Of course, Master! I was—” Sydney paused for just a moment. “...uh. Teaching the girls to read! Especially Hole, you know she even has trouble with the alphabet, everything past Q is just—well. Master’s cum is very strong and very tasty.”

“Very strong,” Jeremy agreed. Sydney shifted to the side, allowing Kayla to launch her big white ass onto Jeremy’s lap, while still maintaining total tit with his face. He reached up, to roughly cup them.

These were HIS. He owned them. He owned lots of stuff.

Or, anyway, he’d signed a lot of paperwork.

“Those cards are—flashcards. Yeah,” Sydney said. “The different colors are—reminders. White for—vowels, red and green are—uhh—the nouns, and blue is for the stupidest girls, right Kayla?”

“Ummm, right!” Kayla said. Her thighs nestled his cock, which was, impossibly, fully erect. What little blood Jeremy had accumulated rushed out of his head again. But that was okay—he was feeling warm. Anna’s skillful hands were working the knots out of his shoulders.

“Hungry,” he said.

“Holly—Hole made kebabs!” Sydney said. “She ran upstairs to get them! But here, this should help tide you over.” She stuck a nipple in his mouth. After a moment of surprise, he started to nuzzle and suck. His eyelids drooped.

“You girls are—the best,” he said, around a mouthful of titflesh. What had he been worried about? It was fading away. Even concerns about money, mortgages, business, were hard to summon up. His job was to cum, and he was getting really good at that. Really really good, especially with Kayla handling him between her creamy thighs. “What about the—drinks—”

“Oh, those are energy drinks, Master!” Sydney said. Anna’s hands were digging into his shoulders, finding tension he hadn’t known about. He hadn’t realized who Anna’s Dad was until he was in the house, asking for his daughter’s hand. The scariest moment of his life.

“Uhh—energy drinks?”

“We need LOTS of energy to pleasure you. Plus we need to wash the taste of cum out of our mouths so that we can get the taste of more cum in our mouths. You’re such a PRODUCER, master! You’re our—wolf!”

Wolf. He was their wolf. Jeremy liked that. It felt right. He was their big, strong, alpha wolf.

“Your wolf,” he muttered.

“Yeahhhhh,” Sydney cooed. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “That’s—nice.”

“And we’ll feed you big steaks, and you’ll sleep in a big bed, the biggest bed,” Sydney said, rubbing his shoulders.

“BIG bed,” Jeremy agreed.

“And of course you’ll play with your toys,” she whispered, right into his ear.

Okay, my wolf, enjoy dinner!”

Two wonderful, teardrop tits were removed from his field of vision, and were replaced by kebabs on a bed of white rice.

And—Hole. She hadn’t had time to duck underneath her table. She was tall, unfolded. And where his other girls were toy-coded, grippable and pliable, she was voluptuous, sporting curves that were almost parabolas. There was so much to her, and it was hard for Jeremy to believe it had all been stuck underneath a table, diligently sucking at his dick. The Mommy part of his brain was furiously pinging, and he liked it.

“You’re...” he squinted. “You’re Hole.”

“Y-yes?” was this even his first time hearing her voice? It was a voice made for lullabies. She’d been wasted, as just a mouth. Hole looked nervous. She played with her hair. “I—made dinner.”

“You can talk,” Jeremy pointed out. “You have really big tits.”

“Yeahhhh,” Hole sighed, cradling them. The other girls paused what they were doing, eyeing each other.

“You’re—” where was the WORD? He gaped for it.

“Beautiful,” Sydney supplied, behind him.

“You’re beau-ti-ful,” Jeremy said.

Hole had found time to put out a complete table setting and also sweep the—strange flashcards—onto the floor. The kebabs were in a mountain. Hole backed away, grinning. Meat, he did need the meat. And he was very thirsty. Jeremy stood up, displacing Kayla, who fell on her padded ass.

He lumbered to the table and bent over it, too hungry to bother with a chair.

A moment later a very familiar mouth started to nuzzle. After the first kebab it was ed by a second mouth, eager but unusual. Jeremy glanced down. Hole and Kayla, working together. Good girls.

“Good fuck sluts,” he said. “Good fuck toys.”

No, he could do better. Sydney and Anna behind him, rubbing his neck. Kayla and Hole at his feet, servicing him. Meat.

“Bitches,” he said. Yes, the girls liked that. He could tell from their mouths. “Good bitches,” he said, trying it out again, feeling their delight against his cock. Yes. He was the alpha wolf, and these were his bitches. He was SO alpha.

“We’ll go make the bed. Right to bed after dinner,” Sydney reminded him.

Yes, of course. He was very tired. She was correct as usual. His cook did something special with her tongue, while his maid handled his balls. He didn’t notice Sydney pulling Anna upstairs, hand in hand.

“Bitches,” Jeremy said, around a mouthful of kebab meat. “My bitches.” He swallowed, and came.