The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It amuses me from time to time to examine the personal diaries of the servants I keep. Abbey’s, in particular, is one that has provided me much joy and erotic inspiration over the course of her term in my employ. A mutual friend informed me that you take great pleasure in such writings—here it is now, arranged in the manner I have found most pleasing.

NOW:

Mister Castle has ordered me to write down my routine in my diary. I happily obey his instructions.

Every morning, I wake up and slip into my very best outfit. Mister Castle says he likes me best when I wear sexy high heels and tight, tiny lingerie, so that’s what I wear.

Sometimes my outfit consists of tight corsets with frilly garter belts and tight stockings. Sometimes it’s a sexy nightie, hanging down loose and held up purely by my big, buoyant titties. Sometimes it’s a hot little sheer lace slip that doesn’t hide in the slightest how erect and huge my nipples are all the time. No matter what, it’s always something that makes it easy to dispense the hot, delicious milk I make every day from my big, lactating breasts.

Basically, I’m only allowed to wear lingerie because I’m just a silly, sexy maid, and I have to act that way. My job depends on it. So does cumming. I’m not allowed to cum for Mister Castle at the end of the day unless I’ve been a very good maid. Sometimes Claudia or Terrance or even Lilah will come and play with me, and I’m allowed to cum then, but those are special occasions, and those cums aren’t ever as good as the ones Mister Castle gives me.

I’m not pregnant yet, but when I am, he says he’ll order me some new lingerie—or better yet, he’ll let me wear the stuff that belongs to Lilah and Claudia. They’re so sweet. I love them all so much.

When I wear tall, hot heels I can walk as sexy as any woman. My hips sway from side to side. I am confident, hot, and sexy, all the time when I wear heels. There’s nothing better, says Mister Castle, than a gorgeous woman wearing gorgeous heels to constrain the way she walks and moves—they show off what an ornament she really is.

I love being an ornament for Mister Castle.

My tight, heart-shaped ass looks so firm and sculpted when I wear heels—my legs acting as a perfect line up to the entrances of either hole between my cheeks—though with how much I want to get pregnant, I bet you can guess which entrance I want Mister Castle thinking about.

After getting dressed, I go downstairs and suck off whoever’s eating breakfast. Usually it’s Terrence. If Claudia or Lilah manage to make breakfast (often they don’t, poor dears. They sleep in quite a lot with their delivery dates so soon), then as they eat, I will lick their pussies or finger them if my mouth is otherwise occupied.

After breakfast, I step outside the kitchen and bend over at the table in the middle of the entryway. This is where Terrance or Elliot or Spoons can have their way with me—or where Claudia and Lilah can spank me silly.

I am a maid. I belong to the house. Everyone here is more important than me.

THEN:

Let’s get one thing straight right off the bat, here. Nobody on this planet is more important than me, all right?

I mean, look. I get it. There are people starving, and there are big bills being ed in Washington, and like, everything is going crazy in the Middle East—I get it. I get it. I don’t need a lecture from you. When I’m telling you nobody’s more important than me, I don’t mean like, you know, existentially, all right? I don’t mean that somehow the cosmos is in motion purely because I’m around to make it happen. That’s too much pressure. I don’t want that.

What I mean when I say I’m the most important person around is a declaration of practicality, okay?

Because practically speaking, I’m the most important person I know. Just like you’re the most important person you know. That’s just how it works. You’ve gotta look after yourself first. Anything good that happens has to come after that, right?

So anyway, being a maid doesn’t come natural to me. Looking after other people’s stuff and all. But whatever, it’s good money. And this latest job? Hoo boy. It’s damn good money. It’s great money. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a year of work? Are you kidding? Who do I have to blow to get that kind of deal all the time?

Well, nobody, apparently. They said the position was open continuously, just so long as I could stand the work.

Uh, yeah, a hundred fifty-thousand dollars? I can stand it. Trust me.

Not that this place—Mister Castle’s Estate, as it is constantly referred to—doesn’t have its weirdness.

Anyway, earlier today I arrived here. Mister Castle’s Estate, like I said. It’s a big, old place. You’ve seen the type—imagine any sort of rich person’s house from any movie ever—that’s this place now. It’s an amalgam of everything rich. Beautiful ceilings, beautiful floors, art everywhere and all of it very masculine and sexist. I’m sure Castle, if he were around, would say he’s “celebrating the female form” with all his portraits of big-titted women, but in all reality he’s just perpetuating the myth that women are property to be traded around, so long as they are gorgeous first.

Oh, side note: I got a ride to Mister Castle’s place with an old man. His name was Eduardo. He looked like an Eduardo—a scraggly beard that only really seemed to occupy one side of his face, and a scar sliding from his ear to his shoulder. The whole time, he was trying to warn me away from the Castle place. He kept saying how he would never let his daughters work there, not ever. I smiled and nodded, but still, I couldn’t wait to get out of the car.

Nobody tells me where I can and can’t work. I had enough of that from my parents, thank you.

I found this job through a random encounter on the street, believe it or not. I had been idling through a bulletin board at the laundry mat, looking for easy graphic design work. I’m no expert at graphic design, mind you, but I can handle photoshop and the like better than most of the population. I had put together a few jobs for doctor’s offices, stuff like that. The problem is that nobody really wants to hire you—or not for very long—if you don’t have a degree or any formal training. Just plopping together gif files on tumblr doesn’t really cut it as a resume, most of the time.

(Also, side note: I just found out there’s no internet here. What the hell, Castle?)

Anyway, this gorgeous Asian girl in a tight, tiny business suit asks to take me to coffee. I’m excited, right? I think she’s hitting on me—and I’m all for that because I haven’t eaten a quality pussy since Diana broke up with me like six months ago or however long it was.

Bummer news, she wasn’t hitting on me.

Awesome news—she thought I was perfect for a job her boss was putting together.

Anyway, so a week later after some interviews and blood tests, there I was, standing with my lone suitcase in front of this enormous manse.

(Mansion? Manse? Are those the same thing? Nobody ever told me and, like I said, there’s no internet here. Which is just SUPER, by the way.)

I knocked on the door, and out came the most enormous set of tits I’ve ever seen.

I normally dislike using the word “tits.” It’s sort of automatically degrading. But—you know this, I’m sure—for some pairs, there’s really nothing else that works as a descriptor. The mammaries on this beautiful, blond creature were not “breasts” or even “boobs.” They were crowd-pleasing, man-melting titties, and there was really no way around saying that. They were enormous, round, shiny, bouncy, sporting the sort of hot tanned skin that contrasts so brilliantly with perfectly arranged blond hair—which she also had.

This…was Claudette.

“Hi! I’m Claudette!” she bubbled. Everything she said could be alternately described as “bubbled” or “gushed” or “giggled” or “purred.” She was like sex incarnate.

Honest to god, I’m getting sort of turned on just ing seeing her for the first time. I thought I had stepped on the set of a porno. She had on a tight red dress that did nothing to hide the fact that she was positively exploding with fertility—the big baby bump on her body was like an extra set of curves for men to ire outside of her already generous hips and tits. Her face was completely beautiful—your poster-girl for any given bikini-blond-babe calendar.

“I’m Abbey. I’m the new—”

“—the new maid! I know! We’re so thrilled you’re here. Won’t you please come in?”

I followed her in, of course. Cue the images from earlier—huge, beautiful stuff and tall spaces. Lots of me making hopefully-subtle glances-of-disgust at the artwork.

“I’m the former maid,” said Claudette. “I would love to still be doing the work, but, well…”

She pointed to her fabulously pregnant belly.

“Mister Castle says it’s not proper for me to be doing Maid’s work while I’m as pregnant as I am.”

“That’s very…considerate.” I was trying to be diplomatic. “So, you’ve got maternal leave in your contract?”

“There’s no contract, per se. He just likes taking care of me, since I take such care of him, and his estate. That’s why I still have a room here.”

“You can leave, but…you’re staying?”

“Of course. I owe it to Mister Castle’s Estate to stay here. He deserves it. He’s just been too good to me for me to just up and leave!”

She laughed and grabbed my hand. My heart skipped a beat. Her touch was so soft, so inviting and friendly…like all of her. You got the feeling from looking at her that she wanted you to look…that she wanted you to touch her in all sorts of ways.

It’s terrible to write such things, I know. I’m sure plenty of sexist pigs over the years have thought the same things about her. She’s such a whore for putting those thoughts in my head.

She showed me around the house—a cursory examination of what it held. There were four different wings, each replete with enormous sitting rooms, game rooms, bed rooms, and more. If I didn’t know better, it seemed like Castle wanted enough room to host an entire army in his estate.

I was introduced to the rest of the staff: Spoons, the ornery old cook. Elliot, the ornery old groundskeeper. And then Terrence, who was something like Mister Castle’s steward. Claudette wouldn’t really describe his role, other than to say that he was “absolutely super duper and I’m so super duper in love with him, gosh. He’s so good at everything.”

So, coming from a bimbo like Claudette, I’m sure you can intuit what I think Terrence is actually good at.

Thing is, he sort of looks like the kind of guy who’s good at fucking. He’s got these sexy tattoos running up his arms and neck, and he’s lean and muscular, like a swimmer. Anyway, he didn’t have much to say to me. He and Claudette made out in the garage for a few minutes while I pretended to be interested in one of Mister Castle’s many cars.

Over the course of the tour, Claudette let me know that Mister Castle was away for the next couple of months. He owned—either in part or in whole—several businesses. These all had needs that needed his regular presence to ensure that they continued to operate in the fashion he desired. Every few years, apparently, because of the way his normal visits were spaced apart, these businesses would all need his attention all one right after another.

Still, even though he was not there, I could feel his presence in every action of every other person living there; I could feel his shadow dominating every room.

“Now,” said Claudette, after we had made the circuit. “Do you have any questions?”

I didn’t know how she was still standing. My feet were getting a little sore in my tennis shoes from all the walking. She was wearing high heels—and was thoroughly pregnant, besides! Aren’t sore feet something that happened to pregnant women? Maybe she just practices healthy living? Her skin and hair are so shiny and vibrant and glowing, I mean. It’s not out of the question that she’s just some super-vegan or something.

“Nope,” I shook my head. “Looks pretty straightforward to me.”

“Now, just from one maid to another, there are some things you’ll come across here that are…a little hard to accept.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “You’ll know them when you see them. Just know that none of that is out of the ordinary for this place. Rich people, you know…they have their tastes. They like things their way. Just go with the flow, and you should be fine.”

“…all right.”

That’s creepy as hell, right? How was I not freaking out? I have no idea.

No, I know why. It’s because she was pressing her tits up against my shoulder when she said it, and I was having trouble doing anything outside of feeling my pussy get progressively wetter.

Fuck, she turned me on so much, and it wouldn’t be so bad except for the way that she clearly seemed to know and enjoy that she was doing it…

God. I really need to masturbate. I’ll do it after I’m done with this. I’m wet as a hurricane just ing her—and Claudette made a point of saying how she wasn’t nearly as friendly as Lilah, Mister Castle’s wife. Good lord, what’s Lilah going to do—suck my toes the second she sees me?

“Anyway,” said Claudette. “I do hope we’ll get along.”

“Sure,” I said, barely hiding my sarcasm. “We’ll be the best of friends.”

Me and this girl, we had about as much in common as a tuba and a bag of rice. But, whatever—she seemed sincere enough. I made a mental note to tone down my hostility just a little bit. And goddamn, she was so hot.

“I just loving making new friends,” she gushed. “I was never much good at it in school, you see, and, well, living out here in Mister Castle’s Estate is delightful, but the choice of friends can be…limited.”

Oh yeah, I thought. I’m sure you had sooooo much trouble getting friends in high school.

Sure, I’m a little bitter. I’m no looker myself. I seem to be, in fact, everything that Castle doesn’t want in a woman—if I can judge by Claudette and the pictures of his wife everywhere (not to mention all that artwork). His wife and his maid—who he is almost certainly fucking—are both incredibly busty, with long gorgeous shiny hair and beautiful faces. I’m skinny as a rail, myself. I can hardly pack on the pounds if I try—which I do. I know there are girls out there who would apparently kill to have that problem, but let me just say that it’s no picnic having the frame of a twelve year-old boy, all right?

Practically no guys have ever hit on me, ever, not even at a bar. The one guy who did hit on me? He was gay. He thought I was a guy. Thanks, bro! My self-esteem needed that.

So, switching to ladies was almost a no-brainer…it’s just too bad I’m a bitch all the time. I’m literally never happy. I hate that about myself.

I hate lots of things about myself, actually.

This is getting depressing. I’m going to go masturbate to the thought of Claudette’s tits and dream about what I can do with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

NOW:

After my hour of bending—in which I am almost certainly fucked silly by someone in the Estate—I begin my circuit for cleaning. I wear my heels, still. You can hear them click-click-clicking in the spacious halls as I work.

If there is dust on the floor, I get down on my hands and knees and rub it out with a pair of panties. Any male who walks by know it is their privilege—even their duty—to fuck me as I work. Often, however, this doesn’t happen. They all have jobs to do, after all. The only people without active jobs are Lilah and Claudette, and of course, their whole existence is a sort of job, now that they are so very pregnant.

To my understanding, Claudette has triplets on the way, and Lilah has twins. Both of them have still, remarkably, kept most of their pre-pregnancy figures, just adding enormous baby bumps out in front. If anything, the pregnancy has just made them sexier—their hips are so wide now, their tits so incredibly ample and full of heavy, delicious cream.

Oh, yes, sometimes I taste the cream. They taste my own, as well. Mister Castle enjoys watching us do that. But that is later in the day! I must report my schedule.

I make my rounds through the wings. Typically, there is enough of my effort for one wing a day. I step up tiny ladders in my precarious heels, letting any ers-by look right up my incredibly short skirts and have a nice vision of my sexy panties.

It is so very good to clean for Mister Castle.

THEN:

Cleaning this place on the regular is going to suck. I work all day, and hardly anything seems to get done.

Also:

Ick. Ick. Ick, ick, ick!

You won’t believe what just happened. You really won’t.

I was hungry, okay? I get hungry. I don’t care how skinny you think I am. Sometimes a girl has to eat something in the middle of the night. I’d just finished my first day of real work, and I’d worked up an appetite, all right? Dusting and wiping and sweeping and vacuuming and dusting again—it’s tiring work. Anyone would get tired from it.

So, I went downstairs to the kitchen. Claudette was there too—on her way out. She wasn’t wearing anything but a completely hot set of violet lingerie—stockings, garters, corset—the works. She had a glazed, misty-eyed look on her face. There was some sort of gel or cream on her lips—she wiped it off and licked it up eagerly as she ed me, barely noticing I was there.

“’Scuse,” she said, wobbling along.

I was still rather impressed that she was able to maintain such a sexy, flirty gait in her preposterous heels so late at night. They sparkled as she slipped off into the darkness.

So—that was hot. And weird. Right? Her just walking around in sexy, violet lingerie. Apparently, it’s something I should get used to, as well, because she didn’t treat it like it was any big deal at all. Earlier today, she was walking around with Lilah—who I only have seen at a distance—in a neon pink minidress that was practically an apron.

Anyway. In the kitchen, also, was Terrence. His back was turned, and he was fixing something on his pants.

No, I still hadn’t figured it out by then what they were doing, okay? It took me a while. Besides, two hot people just engaging in nearly-public intercourse wasn’t something I was used to, okay? I was hungry and I was tired, all right?

All right.

So, I didn’t really have anything to say to him. I opened the fridge and pulled out a few slices of meat, eating them plain.

“You know, Spoons will make you something if you’re hungry in the middle of the night,” said Terrence.

“That’s all right. This is good.”

He smiled, eyeing me. I have to it, he’s a very handsome man. He’s almost as handsome as Mister Castle (his picture is all over this place)—but Mister Castle looks like some sexified combination of the type of stud on the covers of both bodybuilding and fashion magazines. Ripped, huge, and well-dressed.

Terrence was more of the type you might see on the cover of some auto shop magazine, or something advertising motorcycles. Those long barbed tattoos, sliding down his arms and up to his neck…

They were definitely cool. The ink meshed well with the dark stubble-beard on his chin and neck.

“Well…if you’re interested, I’ve got something that’ll fill up your stomach if you’re hungry in the middle of the night, too.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, totally naive. “What—”

I finally looked at him—and the look on his face. It was predatory. It was hungry.

I wasn’t dressed in anything sexy. Certainly not like how Claudette dresses. Just sweat pants and an over-sized shirt. And I know, that in that particular outfit, I don’t look anything like a sex object. My dirty blonde hair is chopped short—I cut it myself, most of the time, because I just don’t care how it ends up looking. I know my face isn’t up to snuff when it comes to like, magazine models or TV personalities. I’m just plain. My nose is sort of bent, and my teeth are too, and I’ve got freckles everywhere.

I am, like I said, “gifted” with the form of some sexless adolescent, even though I’m a nineteen year old woman.

I mean like, sure. Make-up is no mystery to me. Dres isn’t either. I know how to make myself look good, or at least, as good as I’m going to look. But I’m not a looker, is what I’m saying.

And yet, Terrence was looking at me.

Yes, like that.

“How about it?” he asked. “You still hungry…or is that all the meat you were looking for?”

He pointed at the deli slices in my hands. I cleared my throat.

“Fuck off.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Hey,” he laughed. “You don’t gotta be so hostile. I’m just laying out a friendly offer.”

“There’s nothing friendly about it. Go screw yourself, you’re so horny.”

“Fine.” He turned and then walked to the door. Then he stopped. “You know—there’s not a lot of people here. There’s ways to be polite about this sort of thing, you know?”

I wanted to scream at him—how polite was it to tell someone they could suck your dick? What a pig.

But he was gone.

I finished my meat and then I came back up here.

And now I’m horny as hell. I can’t even believe it. I was horny the whole time. I was horny from the second I saw Claudette walking out of the kitchen. I wanted to fall into her big, bouncing tits and lick her neck up and down…

Then, when Terrence hit on me? Oh, my god. He’s a stud, all right? Pure and simple. Of course I’d love to suck his cock. I’m completely bisexual. Men, women, I don’t really care. Everybody turns me on.

But I don’t let them know that. Then they would have power over me. If I’m turned on by someone and they’re not turned on by me, then I’m their slave—and I can’t live like that.

My pussy is still just blazing hot. I’m going to have to take care of it after writing this.

I’ll be imagining dropping to my knees the second that he propositioned me…demanding that he stuff my mouth full of his cock just immediately. I would love to be that kind of girl. To have that sort of easy, breezy confidence, knowing that no matter what, I would still be intact as a person. Knowing that the entirety of my self-worth wasn’t dependent on whether he still wanted me after the act.

So, of course I turned him down. I know he was just messing with me.

That’s what men do. That’s what everyone does. It’s no mystery to me. There are people who are allowed to be part of the pack of society, and people who aren’t. I definitely am not allowed. I never have been—not my whole life. I’ve never had a circle of friends wider than three or maybe sometimes four. But I can’t hold on to them. Everyone lets me down.

I thought Diane understood. I thought we were both outcasts, together. And then I found her in bed with that fucking man…

I still think about everything she said to me afterward, did you know that? I found her, in our bed, fucking some guy, and she twisted it around somehow and ended up blaming me. How screwed is that?

It’s ringing through my ears, now. Maybe it’ll be good for me to write it down.

Okay, okay. Here we go:

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just…I don’t find you attractive anymore. I really think it’s always been boys for me. I’m going to try being…try normal for a while, you know?”

Surely you can imagine my response. Anxiety. Depression. Gallons of ice cream every day, loaded on top of pizza sandwiches stuffed with extra cheese. Booze, too. Any old aide you could think of.

She hadn’t just replaced me, you understand? She sured me. She traded out her horse-and-buggy for a fucking spaceship. I hated her. I hate her.

I miss her.

She was like those girls who wouldn’t let me the art club in school. The art club! The place in my high school explicitly for all the people who didn’t fit in everywhere else! And of course, when I walked out, my head hanging down in shame, I heard their prissy laughter bouncing off the walls.

So, oh yeah, I know what you’re thinking. This poor girl is so convinced no one will like her that she won’t let anyone in.

Well…prove me wrong!

And trust me, it’s going to take more than some musclebound stud with sexy tattoos to make me think that somehow my entire worldview is mistaken. I just know that the second I gave in, the second I let him touch me or kiss me or even have me, eventually it would all backfire. It would all come crumbling down. I’d walk into the study one day and see him and Claudette laughing. Laughing so hard they were crying, in fact. And then as soon as they’d see me, they’d clam up, straighten up, and smile bright fake little smiles.

And what would they be talking about?

“Oh, nothing!”

Of course that’s what they’d say.

I just know it.

So they can keep their false-friendliness, their weird little games, and whatever else. I don’t want any part of it.

I’m here to work, and work for a lot of money. That’s it.

NOW:

In the middle of the afternoon, the other ladies and I make time for exercise. It’s very important to exercise. A maid like me wouldn’t be any good to the estate without being in tip-top shape.

The preferred form of exercise is yoga. It’s gentle, and that’s very important on delicate forms like Claudette and Lilah both have. Of course, if they weren’t pregnant, they could probably do whatever pilates body-weight cross-training super workout there was. But they had to take great caution for their engers. I’m sure you understand.

So, each of us undresses the other—as always. I do most of the work, I’m sure you can see why. I’m just more mobile, even if my figure is incredibly busty. It’s such a joy to caress the fertile, big-titted bodies of Lilah and Claudette. I forget myself sometimes, massaging their tits—and they forget too. Sometimes we have to have good, hot, sweet little cums before getting started with the workout.

After an hour of gentle touches and licks and adorations, we are dressed in tight tight spandex. We move as one—stretching forward, stretching back, stretching to the side. Twisting, rotating, undulating. Our tight, hot forms in those skintight outfits, our tits practically spilling out of the tops. Our sculpted asses looking carved and hot as we lean forward, as we kneel and squat. Our hair in thick pools beside us. Sometimes I land in Lilah’s hair, and I forget to breath. She smells best of all of us.

Of course, often we only last about half an hour—at most—before falling into the arms of one another and making out madly. We try to keep stretching, even as we begin to lick the pussies of one another. Twisting and rotating, legs far out or maybe pulled up so the knee touches our forehead—arranged in a triangle with me licking Claudette, Claudette licking Lilah, and Lilah licking Claudette.

The triangle is a perfect symbol of what we represent to Mister Castle. His trifecta of perfect, fertile girls, made just for his pleasure. It’s such a joy to be a servant of the Castle Estate.

THEN:

It’s really damn weird working at this estate.

A strange thing happened this morning.

Yes, stranger still than what happened a few days ago, with Terrence in the kitchen. Ever since then, he’s avoided me, sometimes casting me ugly looks. I’m beginning to think that somehow, I truly hurt his feelings by turning him down.

It’s a very odd thing to feel bad about not sucking his cock—but I do. I can’t help it. Claudette speaks often of what a perfectly nice man he is.

If he is, though, I haven’t seen it.

I mean, I’ve fantasized about it, sure. I’ve fantasized plenty. I imagine him coming up to my room, breaking the door down, completely naked. He demands that I suck his cock. I act like I’m unsure—and he tells me if I do it, then he’ll make Claudette eat my pussy. Of course I agree then—I would have agreed anyway! And then I slide down toward him, purring and begging, putting on my best Claudette impression...

Stupid fantasy. Never happen in a million years, right?

In any case, I was downstairs at seven in the morning to eat breakfast. Spoons was in there in the kitchen to serve me my plate, being laconic as what I think is usual. When I first met him, I thought he was in a bad mood. As it turns out, so far at least, his mood is just constantly that way.

I can relate. I don’t know that my mood has been any good since I arrived here either.

I ate in a breakfast room adjacent to the kitchen. It was, as I’ve found out over the last couple of days, the servants’ dining room. Just like the rest of the house, the ceilings were tall, the light fixtures were grandiose, and the floors were hard and wood. The table was a long, flat slab of dark cherry wood. On the wall was an enormous painting of a Rubenesque redheaded woman holding a jug of milk against her breasts. Little cherubs floated around her.

Lilah walked in, looking glamorous as ever. Up to this point, my interactions with her had been short, but courteous. She was the kind of woman who clearly knew how gorgeous she was, and adored reveling in it. Her entire wardrobe seemed to rotate around highlighting her every feature. I contrast her with Claudette in this way—who was gorgeous, clearly—but also something of a ditz. You could easily imagine Claudette being given a seat on a train or a drink in a bar, and just marveling at how nice people were. Meanwhile, the same seat or drink offered to Lilah would be seen—by Lilah, at the very least, if not everyone drooling at her gorgeous body—as her absolute divine right.

She had on a sexy, long wrapping gown with a wide, scooping v-neck. Sheer fabric clung over her pregnant belly, and tight leather high-heeled boots adorned her legs.

My pussy twitched at the sight of her. And then, it continued to do so, slowly moistening more and more as her scent filled my nostrils.

My instant, deeply-ground anger twitched as well, though—she was the kind of babe who would never have even recognized my existence in high school. Or, if she did, it would have been to make fun of me. Or worse, it would have been to offer me a sandwich because she thought I was homeless, from the state of the clothes I was wearing.

Yes, that happened. Shut up about it.

“Hello, Abbey,” she said, gliding into the seat next to mine. “How are we this morning?”

“Good,” I said. “I mean, well. Ma’am. Madam.”

I hated that I was stuttering around her, like some lovestruck fool. But god, to be so close to her…pregnancy suited her. She was positively glowing.

“That’s wonderful.” She slid closer, eyeing me up and down. Her eyes were green and must have been of made from some kind of laser-emitting emeralds. I melted in front of her. My thighs twitched constantly, wanting to open wider and wider, as I had to suppress the need to beg her to lick my pussy.

Her voice was accented lightly—Mister Castle found her in some Eastern European country when she was just barely eighteen, and promptly swept her off her feet. Even in that country, though, she must have known she was a tremendous beauty. The kind of hot, easy arrogance she had was cultivated with years of experience, not just wealth and status.

“I notice that you’re not wearing the uniforms we laid out for you?” She put a hand on my arm. I melted a little more. A candle sent to the sun.

“Oh, those. Yes…they…” I struggled for a lie. “…they didn’t fit.”

The clothes they had assigned for me were almost obscene. I woke this morning to see them hanging on the outside of my bedroom door. The hemlines were entirely too short, and they were designed to show off cleavage that I just didn’t have. They even gave me underwear—bras with push-up straps. I didn’t have anything to push up, dammit! The outfit was embarrassing. I refused to wear it.

“Oh, really?” Lilah raised an eyebrow. “I shall have the tailor fired, then. We supply over half of his business. I’m sure he’ll go under without us. And it will be hard to replace him…”

“Half his business?” I gulped.

“Oh yes. He’s got four or five children, I believe, all under the age of fifteen. No doubt they’ll go hungry. It’s a shame, really. But if he can’t make clothes that fit you…”

Panic struck me. “I didn’t put them on!”

“What?”

“I didn’t put them on. I’m sorry. I lied. I thought it was a white lie.”

Lilah stood up. She looked physically repulsed, her face becoming something twisted and wretched, even though it was still full of beauty. Terrible beauty, though. Dominating beauty.

“My dear, in this house, there is no such thing as a ‘white’ lie. Lies have no color. They do have a shape, however.”

“A shape?”

“Yes. They are wedges which drive people apart. Do not test me with one again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You shall wear the clothes we set out for you, yes? It is part of your employ.”

I gulped. “Yes, ma’am.”

I had thought the clothes were part of something Castle wanted—I was trying to will myself up to wearing them, over time, before his arrival. It had never even occurred to me that Lilah would want me objectified like that.

“Wonderful. You have perhaps an undesirable figure,” she said, clearly trying to be diplomatic, “but we shall make the best of it. I demand beauty in my household, Abbey. Beauty and health.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered.

“What was that?”

It would have been easy to cover for my snotty remark. But, I don’t know. I just went with it. Sometimes I get angry, all right?

“I said, that’s easy for you to say. We weren’t all born like you were.”

“Yes,” she said, thinking a moment. “It’s rather worked out well for me, hasn’t it?”

She smiled—a joke. And there it was again—my desire instantly replacing all my anger. Her smile was as gorgeous as the rest of her. And then, her clear acceptance of her place as better, as hotter...that was hot all in itself.

I think maybe over time I’ve fetishized the “hottest girl in the world” effect on myself. Women who I want, who I really want, I put them on pedestals in my head higher than anyone else. They become all the beauties back home who never learned my name...only now they want me desperately. In my fantasies, I mean.

Excusing herself, Lilah left the room for a moment and then returned with a bottle of pills in her hand. She shook out four of them and placed them on the table next to my plate.

“If you’re going to work here,” she said to me, “then you need to be healthy. What if you take ill, and Claudette and I are incapacitated? Who will look after the house, one of the men? That would be entirely improper.”

“So…these are for that?”

“Yes. You must take them.”

I picked one pill up. It was heavy and wide, the size of a fingernail. “What will they…I mean, what are they for?”

“They are vitamins. They are good for a woman’s body. They help a woman achieve her natural potential much more readily.”

“I don’t know…I mean…I have my own vitamins that I take. A multi-vitamin.”

She scoffed. “You might as well be swallowing rocks. These,” she shook the bottle in her hand, “are financed by my husband. The best of the best. That is how much I care for you, despite your nasty comments and lies. Now, take them.”

She put her hands on her hips and waited.

“I really would rather not.”

“Very well,” she said, beginning to pick them up. “A pity. We shall have to find a new maid already.”

“You’re going to fire me if I don’t take these pills?”

She looked at me as if I was being stupid. “Of course. Didn’t I just say how important your health and beauty are to this household? And now, I assure you that these pills are what you need, forever, and you refuse. I cannot work with such stubbornness. You will have what pay you have earned so far, and—”

“No!” I took the pills from her hands.

For a moment, my hands slid over hers—they were so soft. So incredibly, deliriously warm and soft. My pussy called out again—those fingers, in here! Please, please!

I took the pills, then. Lilah seemed pleased, and left me. I went upstairs afterward, of course, and put on my uniform, feeling like a fool. The supposed-to-be-provocative clothing just looked strange on me. The strings and knobs of my body were ungainly inside of the tight clothing.

At first, I didn’t notice a difference from the pills. I merely accomplished work as usual. But then…then, I noticed that six hours had gone by—in a blaze of happy, peppy work!

I had been humming. Humming! Me!

Why would I hum? I never hum. It had to be those pills.

Lilah tried to serve them to me again, earlier tonight, at dinner. Next door, in the real dining room, I heard her and Terrence and Claudette laughing and cheering as they ate. I was left out, of course. I’m always left out.

When Lilah presented the pills to me, again, I shook my head.

“No way,” I said. “I don’t like those things. They made me…I mean, I didn’t lose time. I was really focused, actually. But I just…I don’t know. I feel like they were messing with me.”

“Nonsense,” said Lilah. “I would happily take them myself, except that I’m pregnant. Please, take the pills? It’s very important.”

“Lilah, please. Misses Castle, I mean. Madam. I really don’t want—”

“Must I remind you that your job is at stake?”

It was like that, then. I had hoped she was bluffing or stretching her will this morning—perhaps feeling hormonal from the pregnancy. But she really was that serious.

“Fine,” I said, swallowing them down. She watched me all the way—and then had me open my mouth to her.

“Good girl,” she said calmly, waiting for a response.

“I’m not a girl!”

“And neither are you good. We all say things we don’t mean, I suppose, in the quest for courtesy.”

She left the room, door swinging.

“Stuff it up your ass!” I said loudly.

Too loudly. Claudette and Terrence stopped laughing next door. The door still swinging, Lilah strutted back in. I struggled under her icy, laser gaze.

“I-I think you didn’t hear me right,” I said, fluttering. “I said—”

“I heard very well what you said.”

I waited, terrified. She made me sit down.

“You’re being quite rude, young lady. I’ve done nothing but show you respect and honor in this house—my house. You have a room to stay in, work to occupy your mind, and money sliding toward your bank. If you want to leave, you can do so at any time—and with the all the pay you’ve earned so far, as you well know. And now, you are upset with me because I wish for you to be as healthy as possible for the caretaking of myself and my children?”

I didn’t know what to say. I was ashamed.

She shook her head. “Mister Castle will not like to hear of this.”

I knew she was right. I had been a bitch.

“I’m…I’m really sorry.”

She kissed me on the cheek, her lips lingering there. Her bulging belly pushed against my knees. It was so warm. And I...I was turned on.

“All is forgiven, my dear. But let us try for more tact, in the future? No one enjoys a talking-to, not even the deliverer.”

I know you know what I need to do now. I’ve been needing to all day. All I can think about, even after that weird affair, is how fucking hot it is to look at Lilah when she talks. I want her to keep talking to me. I want her to keep smiling at me. I want to go cum, thinking about her smile.

In fact, that’s just what I’m gonna do.

NOW:

After exercising, we must bathe. Bathing is so important for hygiene.

Lilah leads us to the Master bath. It is enormous. The bathtub alone is the size of my bedroom. She stands tall and proud in the center, her huge bare belly so round and full of life. Her big, heavy tits usually are lactating already from all the exertion. I take care to slurp up every last bit that I can. Her milk is so sweet, so delicious.

Claudette bathes her first. She takes her time with the sponge, lovingly caressing it over every beautiful, shiny inch of Lilah’s body.

I do the same for Claudette. Soft moans and mews pour from my mouth like wine from a bottle. She is so very beautiful. All I want to do is hold her and lick her and kiss her when I am around her. When I am not around her, I want to do the same for Terrence, or Lilah, or especially Mister Castle.

After bathing, we dress again. Lilah dresses us, of course. Like gardens in Louie XIV’s Versailles, we are to constantly change our appearance so as to please the King we all adore.

I dress most often in lingerie, as I said. As it is close to the evening after we bathe, Lilah permits me usually to wear some manner of gown on top of the lingerie—but only so that it shows off my immense tits and my gloriously long blond hair. I look so fucking good.

I could lose weeks at a time, thinking of my reflection. Thinking of how lovely I look for Mister Castle and his estate.

THEN:

Sorry, it’s been a nutty few weeks since my last update. Lots to talk about, though!

I’ve got so much energy I think I could just write for weeks and weeks and weeks, you know? It’s fun to write.

Lots of things are fun, really. I’ve been looking over some previous entries here, and I’ve been a BIG downer. Focusing on Diane, or why I thought I was gross, or why I stunk as a person, all of that. It’s not good to be so negative. Claudette talks to me all the time about the power of positive thinking.

It’s definitely working for her! She’s happy all the time. I couldn’t imagine someone with a better life. So, I’m going to write up some of the good things happening!

First of all—all of a sudden, I’ve got tits. And an ass. And hips.

I mean, I was a skinny, string-bean pole sort of girl, like I’ve said before. And now, ever since I came to this place, all my body parts are getting really, really…well. Enhanced, I guess you could say.

My tits—and they are tits, like actual honest-to-god tits—are at a very substantial 36B cup right now. I think in a few days, they’ll be an easy C cup. I’ve been just blazing through bras—which is actually totally fine, because Lilah is super happy to just pay for any new ones that I need! She’s so much nicer than I gave her credit for. I was really acting like sort of a snob to her because of how pretty she was, and like, expecting her to be a snob—but that’s the snobbish thing you could possibly do! It’s so much easier to just open your heart up and like the people around you, you know?

So yes, I completely fill out my uniforms now—and they’ve had to be updated almost daily. I wouldn’t mind how my tits spill out of tiny, frilly maid’s outfits Lilah wants me in, but with how my hips keep getting wider and wider, it gets a bit hard to maneuver without ripping the poor dresses in half.

I’ve also...this is sort of weird. But I’ve gotten taller? I mean, I’ve always been kind of on the taller side...but now I’m approaching five foot eight, I think. So, my legs are just getting longer and longer, and at the same time, without even going outside or changing my diet much, my skin is getting more bronzed and healthy.

And my hair!

My goodness, my hair.

So, it’s always been short. I chop it short, with scissors of my own. I don’t care what it looks like, really. If I thought I could still get a job and not look like a cancer patient, I would have gone bald long ago.

But, a couple of weeks ago, I noticed one of my naturally dirty blonde locks had become bright, golden blond. It slid down over my eyes—and was eerily silky soft. I chopped it right off, as soon as I saw it. I thought I had, I don’t know, accidentally knocked some bleach into my hair or something.

The next morning, the lock had returned, and with company. There were three or four locks all blond, and all of them long. I chopped it all off again—and also trimmed down the rest of my hair. It had gone almost past my neck, which never happens.

This continued for a few days—with my hair steadily getting longer and blonder the whole time—until I just gave up.

Now, it’s comfortably right past my shoulders. I’m getting rather good at trimming it, I think—and Claudette even gave me a pair of real hairstyling scissors so that the cuts could be cleaner. The color is cheery, bright blond. And…I have to it, it really makes my whole demeanor much more cheerful and vibrant.

I thought I would hate that—being forced to be cheery…but you know what? I sort of like it. It’s kind of like being dropped off at summer camp, you know? All of a sudden, because you’re in an environment where you can’t help but meet new people, you actually start to meet new people? The same deal with…whatever’s happening with me now. Because I look friendlier and sexier, I feel friendlier and sexier.

I smiled in the mirror just now, giggling at the ridiculous thought of comparing my changing body to a summer camp. I could hardly believe it was me. The girl in the mirror just looks so pleased. I want to be her friend. I want to fucking go out with that girl...and that girl is me.

I blame the pills for all the changes, of course. I know, I know—probably you do too. You’re not dumb. You probably caught right on—maybe you caught on even before I did!

But like…well, it’s not as if any of these changes are making me look bad. Or feel bad. In fact, I’ve had nothing but good consequences from them. Claudette won’t stop complimenting me. Neither will Lilah.

“You just look like an angel on Earth,” Claudette said just today, kissing me on the cheek.

And Lilah, as she slid her hands down my back: “You’re an absolute knock-out, girl. Look at you.”

Stuff like that. I know it’s cheesy, but…I can’t help but like it. It feels so good to be noticed for a change. Can’t I enjoy it, just a little?

I feel like I deserve it.

I don’t even mind that Claudette and Lilah have been touching me so much. God, who would? They’re so hot. Something about the way their hormones hit them means they love touching and being touched. Lilah made it clear it was part of my job to cooperate with their desires when it came to touching, and you know what? I’m fine with it.

I get to touch Lilah’s body whenever I want. The hottest babe around. And when I’m not touching her, I’m touching Claudette. And they want me to. It’s so invigorating.

Also, they’ve gotten very strict about the dress code. It seems that—after I capitulated to Lilah when it came to the pills and the one uniform, they knew they had all the power.

It all culminated one day when Claudette cornered me as I was cleaning Mister Castle’s enormous vacant study.

I heard her before I saw her, of course. By this time, I was wearing rather elaborate three-inch heels. They had leather straps that slid across the tops of my feet and up around my ankles. But even those didn’t compete with Claudette’s awe-inspiring six-inch heel gladiator style-sandals. The heels were solid steel.

She slid down across from me on the long leather couch in front of the fire place, her long legs in the air. She stroked the leather for some time, erotically almost. I watched as she leaned over, her heavy tits pressing hard against the cushions, and took in a deep breath. I could see that her nipples were dripping small amounts of milk through the tight confines of her clothing.

“Can I help you find something?” I asked.

“Oh, no, thank you!”

She stood up, as if this was the first she had noticed me. Perhaps it was. A tight yellow minidress clung to her bodaciously busty form. Her baby bump was more than evident—it was on display. The trio of hot, round bulges protruding from her bod—two boobs and a bump—were impossible to ignore in the skin-baring cloth of the dress.

“I like to come in here and just…inhale his scent, sometimes.”

“His scent?” I asked. “The scent of…Mister Castle?”

“Of course. Can’t you smell him?”

She took in a deep breath, rotating her fingers around her incredibly erect nipples.

I really couldn’t.

I couldn’t, in fact, truly fathom the way these women talked about Mister Castle at all. She and Lilah treated him in conversations as if everything he said was the word of God. They spoke of him with enormous reverence, and anything that was contrary to even the tiniest bit of his will was not allowed.

Their incredibly high-heeled footwear was a great example of this. The last day they saw him, he had asked for six-inch heels, apparently. And, as he had not returned since that time to tell them any different, they continued to only wear six-inch heels. Again and again they stressed to me the importance of building up my tolerance for heels—they were so important for Mister Castle’s needs, they said. He loved a woman in heels. A woman in heels was really working to the best of her ability. A man couldn’t possibly be pregnant, busty, and clean and cook like a woman could, all the while wearing sexy heels to showcase her appearance. It was important to distinguish herself in this way, to display what power the feminine body had.

It was a crock of shit, if you asked me—but they didn’t ask me. They just told me.

And I did what they said—they were paying my bills, and…you know what? These pills are making it easier and easier to wear more and more outlandish footwear. It was fun, like they said. I enjoy it more and more every day.

Claudette stood up and guided me over to the couch. “Come now. Breath in. I know you can smell his musk.”

The top of her tits pressed hard against my naked arm. I tried to pull away.

“No, thank you.”

“Come on.” She grabbed me again. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

I shook her off. “Leave me alone, all right?”

She smiled. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“I don’t want to be friendly with you, okay? Get it through your head. I’m here to work.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Claudette.

“Well, believe it, all right? I’m a bitch. I don’t like you.”

I was really, really convinced of this. At this time, I just...I didn’t trust them. Any of them. They were always so friendly. So happy. So welcoming. They were up to something!

She clasped her hands together. I noticed for the first time how they had little lace gloves on them—see through and yellow, the same color as her dress. Cute bows decorated with canaries topped her wrists.

“No, I don’t think you’re a bitch,” she said. “I think you’re scared.”

“Scared?” I scoffed. “What could I possibly be scared of from you?”

“You’re scared I won’t like you. I think you’re scared everyone won’t like you. So you want to control them by not giving them a choice. You act awful on purpose so that you can pretend like it’s your decision when someone doesn’t want to be your friend. You can pretend like you forced them to that. But you can’t control other people, dearie. You’re not the type.”

“…Then who is?” I had become very withdrawn. Very quiet.

“Mister Castle, of course. But don’t worry about that. He’s away for a while, yet. Listen.”

She slipped forward and took my hands into her chest—between her cleavage. It was so warm there. So inviting.

“I think you’re really smart and lovely. I wish we didn’t have to be so hostile toward one another. And you’re looking so very…scrumptious, lately.”

Her eyes had become predatory.

“Our family here could really use someone like you. Someone who has so much to learn. Lilah and I…we have much to teach.”

I gulped. She drew me in closer to her body. Her breaths were so warm on my face.

“N-no. Hey. I’m not…I don’t…”

“Of course you are. Of course you do.”

Her breasts were soft. Really, really soft. I sank my hands into them, soft little mews tumbling out from my mouth. Animal sounds, she had reduced me to.

She pulled me in for a kiss. My own tits—my new tits—pressed hard against hers. Bonfires of delight spread out from my nipples, setting my whole tinderbox body ablaze.

“C-Claudette…”

Shushing softly, she slipped her hands around my neck and guided me downward. I did not resist. She was so pretty.

Soon, my mouth slid over her nipple—the same milk-heavy nipple I had noticed before. I can’t tell you why—I just lapped it up. There was not much, but I took all that was there. It was so sweet, so heavy and delicious. I could have sucked on her all night long.

I wanted to go deeper, lower. I wanted to lick this pregnant woman’s pussy!

But she pulled my head up and stopped me.

Then, grinning, she slipped down to her knees before me. She pushed me back onto the couch until I lay down. And then, pushing my legs apart, she started licking my pussy instead.

Her tongue was...god, I can hardly even describe it. It was magic. Pure magic. She slipped it over the hot bud of my clit, licking me gingerly at first.

“Oh, Claudette!” I moaned. “Oh, my god!”

Encouraged now, she licked faster and faster. My legs squirmed around her beautiful head. Her long hair spilled all over my lap and thighs. I could feel milk from her nipples sliding out from her dress and onto the backs of my legs, sliding down toward my pussy.

“I’m gonna...I’m g-gonna...”

An explosion of pleasure swept over me. I squeezed my legs tight around Claudette’s head, and she moaned as she licked harder and harder.

I came. Hard. I came so hard. Her tongue was magic, pure magic.

“There,” said Claudette, sliding up. Warm milk dripped down the front of her dress. “Now, don’t you feel friendlier now?”

I definitely did.

I definitely do.

I know there’s something fishy here…but god, if she keeps licking me like that, I’m not sure I’ll ever work up the will to care that much.

NOW:

There is time allotted to me to ire the perfection of my reflection. I spent twenty minutes simply looking at my hair. How long and thick it has become since I began my service for Mister Castle.

Another thirty minutes are devoted to my breasts. So big. So heavy and full of milk. They are easily 36E cups, perhaps bigger. I have stopped keeping track. Each bra has to be custom made. All I know for certain is that they are bigger even than Claudette’s or Lilah’s. I mash them together. If I am feeling frisky, I slide my mouth down and lick my own nipples. It’s very easy for me to do. My tongue is long, pink, and always wet. My lips are similarly situated—pink and wet, almost always, just in case Mister Castle might want to enter me.. Both sets of lips, mind you, top and bottom.

The next twenty minutes, I ire my ass and legs. My legs are so very long and shiny. They look almost as if they are covered in nylons, the skin is so sleek and smooth. And my ass? A fetching bubble, made to be slapped and grabbed. A perfect handle for Mister Castle’s grip.

For the last ten minutes of my beauty break, I stare deep into my eyes, iring my own gorgeous face. My eyes are so blue, so clear. I am everything I ever wanted to be. I am popular here. I am beloved. I am beautiful. I never thought life could be so good.

THEN:

I’ve been feeling good for the past few weeks. Sorry for the slow updates.

There’s something really terrible and crazy I want to talk about, but first I have to explain what’s been going on.

Okay, like, first of all, Mister Castle? Still not the fuck around. Where the hell are you, bro? Get in the picture already. This is your show, isn’t it? Claudette keeps fingering my pussy and whispering how much she loves him in my ears, and that’s…I mean, you know how it is. That’s really, really hot, isn’t it? That she would love him so much that she can’t help but touch my body because of her affection? That’s just…fuck. I want to touch myself right now thinking about that, and I know I shouldn’t.

I know I shouldn’t because it’s getting harder and harder all the time not to touch myself.

I’m starting to want Mister Castle too. I can’t help it. I know that I shouldn’t—I mean, I haven’t even ever been laid, really! Not completely. I mean to get laid, truly, means you have to give as well as receive, I think, so like, what Claudette’s done to me doesn’t count. Right?

Anyway I definitely haven’t been laid like, with a man. Terrence—he won’t even offer anymore to let me suck his cock. Sometimes I’m happy about that. I don’t think I’d be able to turn him down. The rest of the time, I’m trying to restrain myself

And like…god. With as much as she wants him, I just…whenever she mentions his name I get all googly-eyed. I just want to see this stud for myself, you know? I’m sort of…sort of excited by it. Claudette says I won’t be able to help myself when I’m finally in front of him. She says I won’t be able to stop myself from sucking his cock like, right away. She says I’ll see him and drop to my knees and beg to wrap my big tits around his cock and have him spray my pretty face with his cum and then suck him until he’s hard again and—

Whoa.

Okay, girl. Calm down. Take a breath.

Some of that, I should probably explain, huh? The whole “big tits and pretty face” thing. I mean, that wasn’t totally true during my last update, right?

There’s been some more…changes, lately, to my body. And I don’t care how many times Lilah or Claudette tell me I look totally fucking hot, or how many times Terrance says that it’s just a late-stage growth spurt, something weird is happening.

My hair won’t stop growing, for one. And I mean, it’s growing a lot. Normally, I would get a haircut like maybe once a month to keep it as short as I like it. I thought that it had settled into a blond mess around my shoulders.

Now, though? I have to keep chopping it down. The shit is like bamboo. It’s all the way down to my ass, and thick. It takes me several seconds to slip my hand through my hot, long silky locks now. And god, I can’t even talk about them any other way other than as hot, long silky locks! That’s what they are!

I would think I was becoming some total bimbo, except that, outside of thinking about sex all the time, my intelligence seems unfazed. I can read the books I brought here with me and understand them perfectly well. I just have to, you know, take a break every half-hour or so and cum so that I can concentrate, or else I start daydreaming about something big and perfect and veiny and huge sliding up inside of my hot little cunt and fucking me so hard I’ll never walk again…

’Scuse me.

Okay. I’m back. I’m calm again. I can think. You see? I’m perfectly smart. I just have to take care of things pretty often. “Things” meaning “cum harder than hell.” It’s not easy to write with sticky, pussy-juice covered fingers, but I make do.

God, I just came thinking about cock. Mister Castle’s cock, no less, and I haven’t even seen him in person. Claudette’s been moaning his name to me as she cums in my ear, as she fingers my pussy. Yeah, she cums when I cum. She says she can’t help it—she’s all attuned to my pheromones or something.

Fuck, she’s so fucking hot. Anyway, I think because she’s been moaning his name so much, I’ve started to just on instinct.

Anyway, tits.

(How’s that for a segue?)

And you see, it’s really my tits that I wanted to talk about to begin with. Because, yes, okay, they’re huge now. I mean, they’re not huge—not like Claudette huge, or Lilah huge, but they’re fully-fledged tits when they used to be fully-fledged nipples-and-not-much-else. I have tits, now. Big, honking 36D titties, and they just seem to be growing more and more by the day.

Like, I love them. I really do. They’re just…they look amazing, and they make my body look terrific, and they feel great (ohmygod so good. I can’t touch them or else I’ll have to go cum again), and I honestly don’t have any complaints.

Except, well.

Earlier today, just before sitting down to write this, as a matter of fact, I found out why they were so big.

There’s milk coming out of my body. Like, fertile milk. The kind moms give out, only I’m not a mom. I’m not even pregnant. But it doesn’t matter because…my tits.

My tits are lactating.

And by that, I don’t mean just a little. They are gushing out milk like crazy. Like, maybe even more than Claudette and Lilah. They’re creating so much milk that I...well. I...um...

I had to take care of it myself. Understand?

God, you might not understand. I don’t even know anymore.

I’ve had to lick some of it up myself.

It tasted...

This is embarrassing. But it tasted really, really good. Like, arousingly good. Like, I licked up a dollop of it, and I had to cum almost immediately.

Obviously, I had to do some detective work. That’s what I worked on today. And hoo boy, I found out quite a lot more than I would have thought possible!

My first thought was, obviously, that I needed to find out what the name of the pills were. They had no identifying features—on the pills themselves there was just a “44DD” on it.

Oh…Oh, I get it.

Oh, that’s gross if that’s what that means. Forty-four double dees indeed!

Lying in advertising too! Mine are only at 36D. You’d think the pills would at least have the decency to do what they said if they were going to put it on the pill.

Although…I’m still taking them every day. And I seem to keep growing outward. Sexier and sexier, every day.

I should stop. I know I should. But…it’s just…

I was never popular, okay? I was never pretty. No one ever thought anything of me. And here, in this place, they’re complimenting me all the time—and even if they weren’t? I can see myself. I know I look hot. Yesterday, I came just from looking at my body in the mirror!

I mean, how could I not cum from looking at myself in a mirror? I look like a fucking sex goddess. I’m like some super sexified version of a porn star. My tits are enormous, my skin is shiny and bronze (I’m not even going outside!!!), and my hair just keeps getting longer and sexier and more blonde…

God…I mean…look at me. Right there. In the mirror across from my desk. I’m just, like, sitting, and it’s totally the sexiest thing anyone has ever done. Nobody’s ever sat sexier than I sit. I just, sit there, and look all concentrate-y, and my lips are so plump, and my face is so sculpted and hot, and my tits are just falling out of my tiny little lingerie, and I…I….I…

—okay, I’m back. A good cum to clear my thoughts. All cleared! Also, I put a blanket over the mirror. It’s important to put this stuff to paper, you know?

Anyway.

The straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak, was that one day, I had a spare water glass in my room. Without knowing I had emptied it already, I picked it up and drank what was inside. Only, my tits were lactating again (I was turned on. It seems to happen when I’m turned on, like now), and so…yeah. I drank my own milk.

And like I said, it was fucking magical.

It was like, the most delicious thing I could have ever possibly imagined. It was not like what I imagine regular breast milk tastes like at all. No, mine was sweet, and thick, and warm and delicious and made me just want to out from arousal.

Yeah…it turned me on. So like…I produce my own aphrodisiac, now.

Don’t ask me how I walk around without finger-fucking my hot blond body every second of every day. I don’t even know anymore.

But still, I knew something was off.

I searched around. I found the pills in a bathroom deep in the East Wing, where Mister Castle’s bedroom is. When I was there, I strutted by the bedroom—trying not to make my high heels click—and I overheard Claudette and Lilah talking. They were on the bed—I could see them through the crack of a door. Each wore heels—as always—and hot tight lingerie.

“Did you see her today?” Lilah asked.

Claudette nodded. “Oh yes. She looked perfect.”

“She’s really just being a doll.”

“Oh, truly. I can’t believe how well she’s conformed.”

“All women conform to Mister Castle’s will eventually.”

“Oh yes,” said Claudette, kissing Lilah fiercely on the lips. “All the good ones, anyway.”

In front of the bed was an enormous screen. Apropos of nothing, it flickered on. Displaying then was the video feed of a gorgeously handsome man—Mister Castle. I lost myself for several moments, staring into his deep dark eyes.

“Hello, girls.”

“Hello, Sir,” they sang together.

“How are you today?”

“Perfect, Sir.” They held hands intimately, touching bumps and breasts together.

I whispered silently along with them. Perfect, Sir.

“And the newest acquisition? How is she?”

“Wonderful, Sir,” said Lilah. “We were just saying how taken we were with her.”

“Terrific. I’ll be home tomorrow to inspect her myself. Now…”

He stood up and unzipped his pants. His cock was in front of the screen. It was so...so very huge.

“You know what I want to see. Show me.”

“Yes, Sir!” they moaned together.

And then they were making out ionately…making out while Castle stroked his cock in front of the screen. Their milk poured out from their tits, soaking their pregnant bodies. It splattered as they lunged into one another, kissing with so much fire and vigor.

Soon, Castle ordered them to switch. They sat together, in front of the screen, while Castle continued to stroke his cock. Lilah and Claudette finger-fucked one another. All three of them masturbating to what they saw on their respective screens. Their milk and precum flying out of their bodies.

Oh yes. I was too—of course. I could hardly help myself. His cock…god, his cock! It was enormous. It was so fucking big and perfect and veiny. It was everything I didn’t know I always needed to fill up my life.

“I’m going to cum, girls.”

His strokes were getting faster and faster. I felt my own orgasm approaching. To add to it, I slid up droplets of milk to my mouth, sucking it down while I fucked my pussy even harder.

“Please, Sir!” they chanted, finger fucking one another harder.. “Please!”

“Please!” I moaned under my breath, barely able to control the volume of my voice.

His cum splattered against his camera—and so against the screen. Lilah and Claudette came as it did, and I did as well. I almost collapsed from the force of my orgasm—the milk had really increased the potency. Lilah and Claudette giggled happily, saying good night to their Man as he turned off the screen.

Before they noticed me, I managed to slink away back to my room.

The bastard would be here tomorrow. Then I’d really suck him. Show him, I mean. I’ll really show him. God, I wrote that. I don’t have to write that I’ll suck him. Suck him really, really good. Suck that big beautiful cock until he can’t…

Um.

Show him. I’m going to show him who’s in charge.

Yup.

NOW:

At times, I reflect. I had such silly thoughts. Desires like being in charge, making decisions in my life. Wanting money.

I never wanted any of those things. Once you have true bliss, how can you possibly want anything else?

I do not want to be in charge.

I do not want to make decisions.

I do not want money.

I want to obey orders.

I want to be property.

I want to be a good maid for the Castle Estate.

My life is so simple and easy. All I have to do is be who I am. What could be better than that?

THEN:

Just as promised, I showed Mister Castle what I was made of.

He arrived home late in the evening. His first order of business was to fuck his wife—I could hear her moans all the way in my room, and they were fucking in the entry, and my room is in the back of the estate, so this was no small order.

An hour later, though, he ordered me to his office.

You could say I went obediently—but I wanted to confront him.

I didn’t think about the fact, however, until I was more than halfway there, that I was confronting him in my ridiculously sexy maid’s uniform, though.

In person, he was even more of a stud than I could have ever imagined. Everything Claudette said—that I would love his smell, that I would need to suck him off the second I saw him, that I would be blown away by how large and muscular and masculine he was in real life—that was all so fucking true.

And yet somehow, through the force of sheer will alone, I managed to defy him.

“Hello, Abbey,” he held out a hand. “It’s so very nice to finally meet you.”

Willing to appear deferential, I shook his hand. He took it though, and spun me around as if were on a ballroom, dancing. He had a good look at me. He looked at me the way you might examine a piece of meat at the butcher’s. This infuriated me; this turned me on; this infuriated me that it turned me on.

“The same,” I said. My voice was breathy and soft.

Oh yes, that’s another change. My voice. It used to be sort of shrill and biting. Now, everything I say is laced with sweetness. I like it, most of the time. When I cum, it makes me want to cum again, how sweet it sounds when I scream out.

“How do you like it here?”

“How do you think I like it here?”

He looked genuinely surprised. “I’m sorry?”

“You’ve got some weird damn stuff happening here, Mister! Your wife is a nymphomaniac. Your old maid is just as bad. I can’t stop taking these big-booby bimbo pills, and my tits are lactating!”

At that last part, his eyes flashed. Was it…arousal, I saw?”

He sat down at his desk. “You seem upset, Abbey.”

“I am upset!”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I had very much been looking forward to meeting you.”

“I don’t—wait, what?”

“Lilah and Claudette have been calling me every night. They do that anyway—such good girls. They show me how they use their bodies to honor me. But always, they talk about you. They even moan your name sometimes when they cum.”

I knew they did this at the least on the night that I saw them do it. But I didn’t know it was regular. And a part of me still suspected that it was all part of a plot. That they knew I was there—how could they have missed the clicking of my heels, after all? And so they knew to say nice things about me when I “wasn’t supposed to be around.” Very likely indeed!

“They do…they what?” I asked.

“They like you. And so, I like you. You’ve become someone very close to my heart.”

“Well…I don’t care!”

I got right in his face, waving my finger under his nose. I didn’t think about how my lactating tits were right under his face.

“You’ve been…you’ve been changing me! Somehow! I don’t know!

He smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “Yes. I have.”

“W-what?”

“Or, I haven’t. Not personally. But a drug funded by me has, yes. Very much so.”

I noticed, for the first time, how his gaze was glued to my lactating tits. My tight little dress was soaked through around my breasts. His bulge, already substantial between his legs, grew and grew.

“I don’t…you’re just itting it?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Nothing to hide?”

I could hardly believe my ears.

“You’ve got everything to hide! You’ve been drugging me!”

“I’m going to tell you all about it, if you’ll be quiet for a moment.”

He spoke to me as if I were a child. Well, I’d show him! I’d listen attentively while he explained!

Who’s a child now, Mister Castle?

“The drug is, at its base, a fertility drug. It’s designed to make women more…fertile. And more likely to be fertilized. And thus the larger breasts for matronly duty. The shinier hair to attract a mate. The wider hips to showcase birthing aptitude. You were a natural. Most women, even if they’re compatible, only show thirty to forty percent compatibility. Even Claudette, the very model of a compatible case with an earlier version of the drug, showed forty-five percent. You’re at ninety-seven percent compatibility, Abbey.”

I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of pride. Better than Claudette? Better than Lilah?

“What does that mean?”

“It means you were made to be this way…and I’m just correcting nature’s error in not making it so already.”

I gulped.

“Why not Claudette and Lilah? Why not experiment on them?”

“They’re pregnant, of course. I’m not risking the lives and well-being of my progeny on experimental drugs. It’s not for them.”

“But…you’ve already got them,” I protested still. “Why do this to me?”

His bulge pulsed and grew again.

“It’s simple, really. I’ve found out something about myself.” He reached up, touching my wet, milky nipples. I did nothing to stop him. “I love women are lactating. I love the feel of their milk on my body and my cock. It makes me feel alive.”

“W-what?”

“Their milk. It’s just a liquid, like any other. It’s a lubricant. Lilah and Claudette, the two of them, their sexy bodies pushing up against each other while they service my cock? Their milk-heavy tits leaking out cream on my stiff, erect penis? It’s a sight to behold. I can see you agree.”

“N-no I don’t?”

“Then why are your fingers sliding around your pussy?”

“B-because…shut up! This isn’t about me.”

“It very much is, Abbey. You’re special. We’re so glad you’re here. Do you know how many candidates we had to reject? Their bodies wouldn’t conform to the pills properly. Nothing bad, I assure you. The pills just…didn’t take. And then, there were the ones who took them, but rejected our lifestyle. They wanted to leave.”

“I want to leave!”

“Do you, really?”

To my surprise, he looked almost hurt. His hand drifted away from my nipples and down to my hip, trying to tug me in.

“We’ll take care of you, Abbey.”

I put my hands to my head.

“Even if you leave…we’ll pay you what you’ve earned. But without the full treatment, the effects of 44DD will dissipate. You’ll no longer have that figure.”

“I don’t care about this figure!”

“Truly?” He reached up and grabbed my breast, harder than he had before. I moaned, my knees buckling. “You don’t like any of what it gives you?”

“Don’t…don’t…you’re doing…oh god that feels good.”

“I’m very hard, Abbey. My cock is totally erect. Look at how it’s straining my pants. That’s your doing. Have you ever made a man hard before?”

“T-Terrance. He says…”

“Mm, of course. Have you sucked his cock?”

“No…he wouldn’t let…I mean…I just didn’t want to…”

“You want to suck mine?”

Tribulation time. I gathered up every ounce of will that I had.

“No,” I said solemnly.

And then I turned and walked to the door. I couldn’t believe it. I had done it. I had won! I would be out of this place!

“Abbey,” he called.

And, just like an idiot, I turned.

He had dropped his pants. His cock—his bare, unprotected cock—was there. I could see every veiny, hot inch.

I gathered up every ounce of will that I had.

And then I promptly sank to my knees. I couldn’t help myself anymore.

I crawled to him, waving my hips sexily as I did. I wanted to present to him what a good, feminine fuckpet I could be.

“Come on,” he said. “Be my good girl. Be part of the family. Take my cock.”

Moaning with need, I wrapped my lips over the edge of his meat.

It tasted.

So.

Good!

I was lost the second I let him into my mouth. Right after that, I was happily sucking him all the way down—and I mean all the way down, no gag reflex at all.

Yeah, apparently all those physical changes? Well, they accommodated his cock stuffing down my throat as well.

As such, he was able to fuck my throat thoroughly. My pussy got something of a preview of what it might be like to be filled—as I’m sure he was pumping into my throat with the same vigor that he would show when drilling into a hot babe’s cunt.

He grabbed me by the thick, shiny locks of my golden mass of hair, pistoning harder and harder into my mouth. He fucked me deeply, thoroughly. He violated me.

I loved it. Without even fingering my pussy, I felt like I was going to cum. Meanwhile, he was thrusting me back and forth on his cock so hard that I had ripped my tiny outfit down. My tits sprayed milk everywhere. Absolutely everywhere.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “That’s so fucking hot. You’re so good, Abbey. You’re so good. So...s-so...”

He came deep into my belly. It was so warm and hot and good, splashing down my throat, through my mouth. It flowed outward, staining down my uniform. I came with him, staring up at him with deep, happy, soulfully loving eyes.

In that moment, I really did love him.

But then my senses returned to me.

“Thank you,” I said, wiping my mouth and getting up off the floor. “But that’s really it for me.”

But I really, really am getting out of here. There’s something rotten about all this. I don’t care if I lose this fabulous body. I don’t care if I never taste Mister Castle’s cum again.

I don’t.

I don’t, okay? Really.

I’m leaving, and I’m getting my money, and they can’t stop me.

NOW:

In the evening is dinner.

I attend to the Master and Mistress of the household, kneeling before them under the dinner table. Mostly, I begin with Lilah; over time, however, Claudette slides her fingers into Lilah’s cunt and takes over. That is my signal to switch over to Mister Castle. I take his enormity down my throat, all the while silently begging and pleading for my meal.

If I do well enough, he cums in my belly, giving me my dinner. This is so gracious of him. By letting me eat his cum for my meals, he doesn’t have to pay for my food—and so he can increase my pay!

Of course, mostly I just donate my paychecks directly back to him. I want for so little, and he pays me so much! As I said, I don’t want any money from him.

I only want to serve.

THEN:

I’m not a virgin anymore.

I’m not a virgin anymore, and I’m still here.

I know. I know.

I know, okay?

I know what I said. I know that I was leaving. And I know that I said I didn’t care about what Mister Castle said, or about this incredible body, or anything like that. I know!

But, um, well. Here’s what happened:

They convinced me.

Not Castle, no. Or at least not by himself. And not Terrence, either, though I could see he was let down when I refused to even speak with him when he swung by my room to talk. I was too busy packing, I insisted, and he had better scoot on along.

An hour after I finished my last entry about sucking Castle’s cock, Claudette and Lilah appeared in my doorway.

“Knock, knock,” said Lilah.

You should have seen them. Both of them, leaning up against opposite frames—framing the doorway themselves with their busty, pregnant bodies. Their immense, milk-heavy tits just nearly touching at the nipple. They each wore tight stockings, sexy high heels, barely-there sheer panties, and gorgeous push-up bras. Lilah was in black, and Claudette was in white.

I wanted them, both, so bad. I forced myself to look away.

“Knock, knock,” Claudette said, echoing Lilah.

“Please, leave me be,” I said, trying to pack my suitcase. “I made my choice, okay? I’m going.”

“We know,” they said. “But we don’t want you to go.”

“Too bad.”

Claudette stepped inside and pressed against me, then.

“Please don’t go, Abbey.”

Lilah pressed hard against my body, too. “Yes, dear. Please? We like you so much.”

Lilah took the shoes out from my hand and placed them down on the bed. Claudette started emptying out the suitcase—I tried to grab the clothes she grabbed, but Lilah kept kissing my shoulder and arm, distracting me.

“N-no you don’t,” I said. “You’re just saying that. You’re just saying it because you want to keep me around to make fun of me. You’re just saying it because Mister Castle made you.”

“Oh, dear. He’s already given up. You said you wanted to go. He believed you. We’re here on our own accord. We’re desperate to see you stay with us. We like you, Abbey.”

“Yes,” said Claudette. “Truly. It’s so wonderful having a good friend like you here.”

“You don’t…you don’t mean that. You just want…”

“What?” said Lilah. “What is it you think we want?”

“You just want to mock me. You want someone to feel you’re better than.”

Lilah and Claudette exchanged a long, sad look. “Oh, no!” they said in unison.

“We would never—”

“—You’re far too lovely to think—”

“—really? Us? We love you, Abbey, and we couldn’t possibly—”

“It’s just impossible to think—”

“—Please take it back? You don’t truly think we dislike you that much, do you?”

I could see that I really had hurt them. That all my walls built up to keep people out had kept out these two gorgeous, wonderful women who only ever had given me their full love and .

It was hard not to cry.

I held my head down. My golden hair puddled in my overwhelming cleavage. Looking down, I could see their big, hot, lactating tits pressing against my own.

“I’m so sorry,” I sniffed. “I just…I’ve never really had friends before.”

“You have some now,” said Lilah, putting her hand high on my ass. Her fingers floated toward the crack between my cheeks.

“Yes,” said Claudette. “Very good friends indeed.”

“You promise? Truly? You’re not just…this isn’t some big mocking plan?”

They both shook their heads, smiling slyly. Claudette came forward and kissed me on the cheek.

“I promise,” she whispered.

Lilah pushed forward as well, except she kissed me right below my ear. “I promise.”

They were both so close now. Their breasts crushing on my body.

“Girls, you are…I mean you are both…”

Claudette had started to kiss my neck. Soft moans escaped my throat. Lilah mirrored her on the other side, kissing in rhythm with the thunderously beautiful blonde. They were impossible to resist.

I wanted to believe them so bad. I wanted to believe them more than anything in the world.

Claudette’s fingers came up to my clit, rubbing down.

Lilah’s fingers, in turn, entered my sopping wet pussy. I moaned.

“Oh, fuck!”

“You won’t leave, will you, baby girl?” asked Lilah.

“We need our best friend here with us.”

“Yes,” cooed Lilah. “Our very best friend. You complete the trifecta. You wouldn’t leave us alone, would you?”

“Oh god,” I moaned. “Oh fuck, oh god, oh fuck! Please! Pleaaaase!”

“You’re not answering the question,” Claudette purred. “Say you’ll stay.”

How could I possibly refuse? I didn’t want to anymore. I don’t know that I ever did. I was happy to be there.

“I’ll stay! I’ll stay!”

With ferocious intensity, Lilah kissed me then. She pushed me back down on the bed. Claudette found her place between my legs, licking me like she always licked me. God, her tongue! It was so, so good!

“Please, Lilah?” I asked. “Please, can I lick you?”

She nodded, of course. After she repositioned herself quickly, I was soon able to stick my tongue against her hot, soft little clit. It smelled just as good, if not better, than I had imagined. It tasted delicious. It tasted almost like the way her milk tasted.

We would have all cum like that...except then Mister Castle and Terrence arrived. Both of them naked. Those two enormous studs, looking at the three of us with clear lust. Their cocks were long and horizontal in front of them, fully erect.

Us girls moaned as one, sitting up.

“Please,” we all said collectively. “Please, fuck us?”

Castle approached me first, wrapping my head around his cock right away. He seemed to miss my lips on his meat.

“You’ll stay, huh?”

I moaned an affirmative as I sucked more and more. Lilah, smiling happily, slid up next to me and licked the length of his shaft as I worked around his balls.

“The milk,” said Castle. “Let me feel your milk.”

We nodded eagerly, and soon we had his gigantic, thick cock positioned between our incredible, lactating breasts. Four milk-spurting tits pushed on his huge rod, wetting it down with perfect hot lubricant. Precum spurted out and mixed with the mess. I scooped some of the combination up, licking it down.

At Castle’s behest, Claudette ed us, pushing her gushing, milk-spouting tits onto Mister Castle’s cock as well. Each of us took turns sliding our mouths around his enormous rod, licking up our milk and the milk of the other girls. As Claudette pushed her tits up down his shaft, Terrence approached her from behind and started drilling into her dripping wet pussy. I was jealous as I watched this—I still hadn’t been fucked.

“You like that?” Lilah asked. “You like what Terrence is doing to Claudette’s pregnant body?”

I moaned out an affirmative. Lilah kissed me across from Master’s cock—our mouths melded up and down his precious, hot cockhead for several seconds as we traded tongues. Finally, though, she pulled away.

“Won’t you fuck her, Sir?” Lilah begged. “She needs your cock so badly. And just look at her…she’ll be such a fertile fuckpet for you. Her body has changed for you, Sir. Won’t you fuck her?”

“Please, Sir?” I begged, finally popping my mouth off his cock. I kept stroking him though. “Please won’t you fuck me? I need your cock. I truly do. I need it inside me. I need that bareback cock filling me up!”

Finally, thankfully, he slipped his enormous cock inside of my virgin pussy. There was just a half-second of hesitation from my body as he pushed through my natural resistance, and then thankfully it was gone—and I was drowning in pleasure. He was so fucking huge! His cock filled my love canal up so deep. I didn’t know anyone could feel so fucking full.

As he pounded into me, Lilah cheered him on.

“Fuck her, husband! Oh, husband! Fuck your little milkmaid cunt!”

Her lactating tits leaked out milk onto his body and mine as she shouted and cheered.

Claudette, fucked viciously from behind by Terrence, was shaking as she latched her mouth on to my milk-dripping tit. Her own bouncing tits let milk fly all over my body. Lilah, when she wasn’t urging her Man on, happily licked up whatever she could.

He fucked me so hard. There was milk everywhere. We were all covered in it completely.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking tight,” moaned Castle.

“Yes!” I shouted. “Just for you! My pussy belongs to you!”

“That’s right. I’m gonna cum in your fertile pussy. I’m gonna get you pregnant. You’re gonna take it, cunt. You’re gonna...you’re gonna...”

I could feel his thick, huge balls ten for an enormous load. My own orgasm was in the wings, just waiting for the say-so from his body to let loose.

He did.

His glorious cock filled me up, spurting load after load into my sweet, willing, hot pussy. As he came, it was a chain reaction. Terrence came into Claudette’s hot pussy. She moaned with orgasm as she swallowed more and more of my milk. Lilah, fingering herself next to us, came as well. And of course I orgasmed so hard, more full than ever.

I just can’t wait to be pregnant for him.

NOW:

At the end of the day, I attend myself to the room of the Master and Mistress of the Estate. Normally, Claudette s us; however, as of late, Terrence has become more and more possessive of her. That is his right, after all; and it’s not as though Lilah and Mister Castle are at a deficit of attention. I take care of them very well.

Often, the night begins with Lilah’s dressing of me. She adores to put me in her newest lingerie and heels. She says I am her perfect little dress-up doll. My proportions are so perfect.

But last night, we celebrated. I was fucked all night long to commemorate the occasion.

Last night, I found out I was just as pregnant as Claudette and Lilah.

Oh yes, they are further along than me. But I shall be ing them soon, giving Mister Castle even more heirs. It is such an honor to be a maid for this glorious estate.

And, I suppose, we’ll be needing a new maid soon to take care of the rest of us while we’re busy being good mothers for Mister Castle’s heirs…