﻿Tattooed Ladies

by Pan



Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2024-02-16 23:02:21
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,365
Publisher: mcstories.com
Story URL: https://mcstories.com/TattooedLadies/index.html
Author URL: https://mcstories.com/Authors/Pan.html
Summary: Various women have run-ins with a mild-mannered man named Rob who has a penchant for tattoos and piercings.
Erotica Tags: be, ex, ff, gr, in, mc, md, mf





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Chapter 1: Abby (Desire Dating)

Chapter 2: Amber

Chapter 3: Annie

Chapter 4: Dakota (Happy)

Chapter 5: Heather, Brittany, Kelsey (Halloween Costumes)

That Can’t Be Right

Night and Day



	Chapter 1: Abby (Desire Dating)

Abigail winced as the artist went to work—her newest ink, she knew, would be her masterpiece. She’d been nervous about getting such a large tattoo, but as soon as the idea popped into her head, she couldn’t resist...

She couldn’t resist.

This would be the piece that truly got her the attention she so desperately craved. The piece that finally put her above the rest of those sluts. This would, finally, make her stand out more than anyone and everyone else.

This tattoo would complete her.

* * *

“FW: fw: re re RE: Looking for luv? Sin up NOW!”

Despite the fact that no, she wasn’t looking for ‘luv’, Abigail found herself opening the email.

It was idle curiosity, she told herself—her interest had been piqued by the fact that the piece of obvious spam had come from her co-worker Rob. She didn’t know Rob particularly well—they’d never exchanged more than idle chatter, the occasional conversation over the water cooler.

He’d either thought she looked lonely and forwarded her the email, or (much more likely) he’d been caught out by some kind of dating site virus. Abigail was happy to find a distraction from her monotonous day-job, however, and so she opened the email and clicked through to DesireDating dot com.

A smile crept over her face as she browsed the site. No matter what she clicked, she could only find female profiles—it seemed more like a catalogue than a match-making site. After a few minutes of reading about the site’s members, she realized how it worked—girls could make a profile for free, but only guys could message...for a price.

Some of the profiles were obviously fake—porn star-esque models with albums full of lewd pictures, and self-descriptions that read like advertisements for hookers.

“Want 2 take ur cock in evry hol”—probably, Abigail smirked, written by the same person who composed the site’s spam email headlines. They must have filled the site up with these fake women to convince men to join, force them to spend $5 a message to attempt to pick up clearly made-up “easy women”.

The ridiculousness of the fake profiles made her laugh, and after a few minutes, she closed the site and continued calculating the estimated annual percentage increase of inner-city mortgages.

That night, after half a glass of wine, Abigail found herself opening up her laptop and typing in the URL once more—just to have another laugh, she told herself, but after reading through a few dozen profiles, she had to admit that it was something more than that.

It _had_ been a while since she’d dated...work was so draining, and it took all of her energy just to organize a weekly meal with friends, let alone go to all the effort of putting herself out there, meeting men, dealing with rejection, creeps, the whole scene...

If the site only let men contact women, all she’d have to do was upload a few photos, a bit of information about herself. Surely there were a few nice, normal men on the internet—looking for someone like her, not just a “hot milf ready 4 ur cum”.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Abigail finished her glass, and clicked the big, glowing “sign up now!” button. Within a minute she was typing out information about herself, picking the most attractive shots she could find of herself, and trying to work out if the user-name “officechick” was going to put people off.

After she finished, she sat back, lips pursed, and tried to work out what was wrong.

_Play to your audience_ , she thought with a cheeky grin, adding a “sexy” to the beginning of her user-name.

If that was what men came to the website to find, it couldn’t hurt to play along, just a little bit. Maybe this would be good for her—a chance to let her flirty side out. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d dressed for men, instead of comfort.

A few minutes later she closed her laptop, having uploaded a slightly saucy picture of herself in a bikini, added a few sultry phrases to her self-description, and quickly taken a self-shot showing off her cleavage.

That night, Abigail’s dreams were consumed by the scrolling, glowing, blinking logo of the site. “Desire Dating”—it drew her in, enthralled her, and when she woke up, she was slightly embarrassed with the speed which she logged into her email, keen to see if anyone had selected her, to see if anyone had sent her a message.

She had no new emails. Even her spam folder was empty.

Trying not to be disappointed, to tell herself that it was just a stupid site, and that it was unlikely that anyone would even have had a chance to notice her profile overnight, Abigail saw a button that she hadn’t seen before—“top girls.”

_Why,_ she wondered, _would a site want to highlight the most-messaged girls? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a dating site? Once a girl’s taken, she’ll surely delete her profile…_

Clicking through, her confusion grew. The list closer resembled a “top 10 porn stars”—it was made up of all the profiles that Abigail had pegged as obviously fake. Artificially enhanced breasts, profiles that could have been sex phone-line transcripts, women with piercings and tattoos and dresses so short they could have been worn as belts.

Still, if this was what the guys of Desire Dating wanted, Abigail knew that she would have to adapt. She could feel her competitive side coming out, and after scrolling through a few of the most popular profiles, she knew exactly what she had to do.

An hour later, Abigail glanced at the clock, and was shocked to see how much time she’d spent re-doing her photos and profile. If she didn’t run, she was going to be late to work.

Only once she was on the train did it occurred to her she probably should have changed—she’d picked out her most revealing clothes to take some new shots, and while it would still pass her office’s dress-code, her outfit showed much more skin than she was used to.

_Perhaps_ , she reflected, _perhaps that’s not a bad thing. I am sick of being single, after all…_

Abigail was cute—not stunning, but certainly a looker. Her real strength was her curves, which she normally kept buried under as many layers as she could get away with. If she was serious about finding a man, perhaps it was time to stop hiding her body away.

She reached up and let her hair down, crossed her legs, and let her short skirt ride up slightly. The approving glances of the man across the aisle from her caused her to feel strangely warm, and when Abigail thrust her shoulders back to emphasize her cleavage, the warmth increased.

She felt good.

* * *

Two days later, on the same train to work, Abigail didn’t even notice the attention her outfit drew. She was too focussed on her smart-phone— _Why,_ she thought in irritation, _does the reception drop out as soon as we get into a tunnel? We’re living in the 21st century, for Christ’s sake._

Checking for new messages had become an obsession, and every day that her inbox remained empty seemed to double her frustration. As soon as she’d entered the office, she’d had the bright idea of updating her profile to reflect how men’s attention had made her feel.

“I just love making heads turn,” she’d written, smiling with the knowledge that this was sure to garner her at least a few more vistors, and—ideally—a message. “Nothing makes me happier than knowing a man is checking me out, imagining all the dirty things he could do to me.”

As the day had passed, the men she worked with had started to notice the change in her wardrobe, and her head had filled with more fantasies...which she’d dutifully typed out, in the hopes that the men of Desire Dating would enjoy them.

“I normally look so innocent, but inside, I’m thinking so many dirty thoughts. I want every man who passes by my desk to bend me over it, and fill me up. I fight the urge to jump on the desk and strip, every time we have a meeting. All I want is to be noticed, to be desired...”

A part of her had wondered if she was perhaps being too explicit, but she’d found the area of the site that listed your number of visitors, and discovered that the dirtier her writing, the more hits her profile got.

Still no messages, however.

As she’d wondered why she even wasn’t worth the $5 it cost to send a message, she grew more determined to crack it. That night, she’d stopped off to buy some more revealing clothes—as she’d called a taxi to help her take the twenty-odd bags home, Abigail had to admit that she may have gone a tiny bit overboard...

It had been easy to talk herself into new underwear—she was long overdue. The two bags full of lacy, skimpy, sexy lingerie meant that she could throw out all of her old, dowdy panties and bras. The short skirts had been harder to justify, but she’d remembered how many of the “top girls” had been wearing short skirts. And corsets. And yoga pants...

With her new outfits, she’d spent a few hours with her new DSLR. Posing for increasingly naughty pictures, only stopping to jot down the erotic thoughts that taking the photos inspired in her. When she was done, the young woman was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.

That night in bed, her fingers slipped between her slick folds, and got herself off twice. She’d masturbated before, of course, but never twice in one evening. As she drifted off, her last thought was how she should update her profile to add details about how much she loved getting herself off, about the dirty images that raced through her mind as she did, about how she’d love to have an audience some time...some time soon.

She dreamt of the logo again. This time, it wasn’t just scrolling and blinking, it seemed to be throbbing, as well. Throbbing. And though the site had no sound, in her mind, the logo had its own...’song’ wasn’t the right word for it. It was more like an audible energy, a buzzing, a pulsing sound that slipped into the cracks of her mind and rewired her thoughts...

The next morning, she’d checked her email before she’d even fully woken up, desperate to find that someone— _anyone_ —had found her worthy of messaging, hoping that the dam of silence had broken, and she’d find her inbox overflowing with horny guys, wanting to meet her, wanting to fuck...

Nothing.

Glancing at the clock, Abigail was thankful that she’d woken up with enough time to really do some research, find out what made the top profiles so popular. After half an hour putting on some of the new make-up that she’d bought, she opened 20 new tabs, one for each of Desire Dating’s top women.

Since the last time she’d checked, a new batch of women had cracked the top twenty. It gave her a lot of hope—if she could just take the right pictures, show herself off as well as these women did, she could make the list too. She could find herself swimming in male attention. She could be fucked every night of the week if she wanted.

Abigail couldn’t think of anything more appealing.

While the naked woman clicked from picture to picture, she found her hand wandering to her snatch—although she couldn’t remember her dreams, she’d woken up horny, and looking at the sexiest girls she’d ever seen just turned her on more. Scantily-clad woman after scantily-clad woman appeared on her screen, and imagining men looking at her like they did these women turned her on so much that she couldn’t help but play with herself.

She was on the 17th women when the recurring theme finally occurred to her, and she slipped a fourth finger into her sopping hole when she realized what men on Desire Dating were looking for.

Tattoos.

All of the women in the top 20 had at least one tattoo, and the higher up the list you went, the more tattoos they had. She closed her eyes and imagined herself covered in ink, every inch of her tattooed with messages proclaiming her to be a slut, a whore, a piece of meat for men to fuck.

As she came around her hand, a slow smile spread across Abigail’s face. She had a plan.

* * *

Her first tattoo idea had been small. Classy. She’d always liked bluebirds, and the image of one permanently on her shoulder made her smile.

On the way to the parlour, however, her mind had started wandering. She wasn’t just getting the tattoo for her, after all...she was getting it for men to look at.

And so when she got off the bus, her small, simple idea had turned into a list. A list that would turn her body into an advertisement for sex.

The tattoo artist raised one eyebrow when she saw the list.

“Are you sure?” she asked, and when Abigail just stared at her scathingly, shrugged. “It’s your body...”

_Not for much longer,_ Abigail thought, a smile upon her face.

* * *

Eyebrows were raised as Abigail entered work the next morning.

The second she arrived home from the parlour, she’d removed the plastic wrap to admire her new ink. It had only taken a few moments for her to realize that none of her new clothes would completely cover the work that she’d had done—some of the worst of it, sure, but for the most part...

_Oh, wow,_ she thought. _The legs came out even better than I thought they would…_

Under Abigail’s right arm and going down her side were a pair of spread, pantihosed legs. They met at her underarm—if she decided to grow out her underarm hair, it would instantly remind people of pubic hair. As it was, the resemblance was closer to a shaved snatch.

On her left side, she’d had a bimboized version of her face added—with poutier, fuller lips, and heavy make-up, it wasn’t explicitly sexual, but at a glance, it certainly suggested it.

Her favourite, however, was the silhouette she’d had inked onto her back—it was an exaggerated version of the female form, clearly naked, on all fours. Anyone behind her would instantly get the message—this was how Abigail wanted to be. On all fours, and ready to fuck.

For a second, her enthusiasm wavered. _Have I gone too far?_ she wondered. _These are much cruder than I wanted. Maybe I...maybe I’ve made a mistake…_

But before her mind could continue down that path, she remembered the new light she’d bought, for the express purpose of taking better photos. Her face lit up with excitement as she thought of all the photos she could take, all the new angles she could show off...

The next morning, before work, she’d found a new tattoo parlour and added some more. Every patch of bare skin seemed like an insult to the potential tattoo that she could place there, and so when she’d entered work, a slight consternation was caused by the presence of plastic wrap around both her arms and legs, as well as her midriff.

She just gave anyone who looked at her a saucy wink. Wait until they saw what the plastic wrap was covering.

* * *

Abigail craned her neck back. It was a tricky shot—she was simultaneously trying to show off the tattoo she’d just added to her collarbone, the piercing in her right nipple, and her shaved pussy.

The top twenty had updated again, but this time, the trend was nude photos. Undaunted, Abigail had matched them, and when she’d noticed that their clothes had been hiding piercings, she’d immediately gone out to get one of her own. She’d quickly found a tattoo parlour that offered nipple-rings, and while she was there, had them add a few more tatts as well.

She’d started to think of her body as a canvas...no, not a canvas. A billboard. A big, beautiful, blank billboard, that she could use to advertise herself on. And she knew exactly what the men of Desire Dating were looking for—sex.

“For a good time,” her new tattoo read, “call me.” Adding her phone number had been a unique touch, she thought. She certainly wouldn’t object to getting a call or two—maybe if she removed the $5 barrier, she’d get a bit more attention.

On the inside of her left thigh, she’d added the word “Christmas”, and on her right thigh, “Thanksgiving.” _I want you to come between the holidays_ was written directly above her pussy mound, and while it had made her smile at the time, she was starting to worry that it was too complex. Perhaps an arrow, with “insert cock here” would have worked better...

Ah well, there was always room for that above her ass.

She reached down and stroked her wet pussy, as the camera took shot after shot. A few of the girls had been doing that—playing with themselves in their pictures. She wasn’t sure if it was allowed, but had also realized that if she wanted to get ahead, she had to start taking risks. As long as she was following the crowd, she’d never have a chance.

Abigail had missed work that day. She’d spent so much time on the tattoo artist’s chair that by the time they were done, she figured she may as well not go in. Besides, her boss had been looking at her strangely—it could have something to do with the ring of dicks that Abigail had tattooed around her neck, like a collar of cock, or the foul language that she’d started using around the office, but who knew?

Not that she cared much. Time spent at work was time that she couldn’t spend taking photos of herself for the website, and until she got that first message, nothing else mattered to her. Abigail was getting closer, she could feel it—her hits had started to increase by leaps and bounds, especially since she’d found the “what I’m willing to do” area of her profile.

Tempting though it was to enter one word—“anything”—Abigail had (correctly) guessed that specificity was the key, and had made a long, long list of the sexual acts that she was excited about.

It was several times longer than the rest of her profile put together, especially since she’d been unable to resist adding description to some of her suggestions. “You can choke me” could easily have stood alone, but she’d almost immediately gone back and added how hot it got her when her vision started to go black, how helpless she felt being fucked by a man who could literally kill her, and how much she craved the feeling of rough hands around her neck while being pounded from both sides at once...

The rest of the list similarly got out of hand pretty quickly. “Spank me” was now followed by “until my ass is red and raw, and I’ve cried so hard that you can use my tears and snot as lube.” An offer to “bring your brother around and do me from both sides” was accompanied by pictures of her masturbating at the idea, filling her pussy and rear entrance with her fingers, telling her potential suitors that she was thinking about them while she did. “Will roleplay anything” and a list of her costumes should certainly have been sufficient, but she couldn’t resist telling some of her fantasies—being kidnapped and used as a sex slave, or having to sell her body to feed her children, and constantly being knocked up in the process, causing an endless loop of sex and childbirth...

It had quickly paid off, however, and Abigail was finally in the top hundred women of the site—against some pretty stiff competition.

_This should help_ , she thought, reaching behind herself and spreading her ass-cheeks wide. On her left cheek were the letters “W” and “H”, and on her right, “R” and “E”.

Even if they didn’t get quite what she was going for, she knew that they’d enjoy the view.

* * *

A small, small part of Abigail wondered how she was going to pay rent that month. A tiny part of her was concerned about the fact that she’d maxed out all of her credit cards. A minuscule section of her brain realized that the tattoos she’d planned cost almost as much as her entire savings.

But most of her was simply furious.

“Whores!” she yelled at her computer. “Those stupid, stupid whores...”

What was particularly infuriating was that it wasn’t even a particularly clever idea. It was one that she could have implemented any time in the past week—taking photos of herself for men to stare at, the looks of arousal she got when walking down the street...her libido had skyrocketed, and she’d started building a collection of toys to help her deal with the need.

Her email inbox was empty, her phone hadn’t so much as received a text message all day, and so the only way that she could get the cock that she so desperately craved was by using the rubber ones that her newest tattoo parlour sold.

She had all the materials. But taking photos of herself using them hadn’t even occurred to her, not until she’d seen the top girls doing it. One of them had even included a video!

“God damn it,” she muttered under her breath, before picking up her camera and deciding to make up for lost time.

She thought she’d been horny when she’d photographed her fingers entering her pussy—it didn’t even compare to the feeling of her largest red dildo sliding in between her lips.

_Good_ , she thought. _Maybe it’ll come across in the pictures…_

She was more than an hour into the photo session when she came up with the idea of using two at once. At first, she stuck to one in each hole, but as her arousal grew and intensified, she was able to fit both of them into her pussy at once.

* * *

The silhouetted woman was no longer alone. As well as the silhouetted man that Abby had asked her newest artist to find, there was a long line of men behind her, a queue of horny silhouettes travelling right around to her front, waiting their turn.

“Insert cock here” hadn’t been quite as funny as Abby had hoped, and so she’d had an “s” added to the end of “cock”. Fortunately, her anus was loose enough that the message was clear.

She’d had a red ring placed around each nipple, making them look like little targets—and just in case, the words “titty targets” were printed up one breast, and “shoot & score” down the other.

Abby had added some spurting cocks, just to make sure that there was no ambiguity.

She lay naked in her apartment as the Brandon added what she knew would be her masterpiece. When her funds had run out, she’d been forced to approach amateurs, new tattoo artists who needed skin to practice on. The young man in her room couldn’t be any older than eighteen, and when she’d told him what she wanted, he’d started stammering, and told her that he wasn’t sure if he could do it.

It wasn’t until she’d ridden him to orgasm thrice that he’d finally agreed. He probably would have agreed after the first time, but the feeling of cum splashing into her increasingly-loose pussy was so nice that Abby just had to feel it again, and again. It had been so long since she’d gotten laid, and since she’d slipped back into triple figures on Desire Dating, she wasn’t holding out hope of getting a message from there any time soon.

She’d considered filling the large gap on her back for a while, but once she came up with this tattoo idea, realized exactly why she’d been leaving it bare. Almost every other inch of her was inked—the sole of her left foot read “if you can see this, someone has stolen my high heels”, and on her right was simply a detailed sketch of her pussy. She’d had slutty make-up permanently tattooed on her face—it saved her that hour and a half every day, and the only downside that she could see was that it wouldn’t run when a man came on her face.

On her left knuckles she’d had “C.U.M. S.L.U.T.” tattooed, and on her right, “D.O. M.E. N.O.W.” The back of her legs were covered in the faces and bodies of her favorite porn stars—on her right was James Deen, cumming on Alexis Texas’s body, and on her left was Stoya having her ass filled by both Manuel Ferrara and Evan Stone at once. Starting on her left shoulder ran a series of pink cunts, each one slightly different to the next, until by the time it reached her right shoulder, they’d turned into spurting cocks.

And on her left ankle, she’d gotten the bluebird that she’d wanted in the first place. She didn’t remember whether or not it had a huge erection in her original vision, but she was too happy with it to care.

Brandon started work, using the photo she’d taken as a reference. It was her favourite shot—in her ass were the three dildos that had become standard. It was rare to find a profile that didn’t have the three-dildos-in-ass shot, but Abby was particularly proud of the two-litre bottle of coke that she’d managed to fit into her ass.

Her ass now read “whOre”, but she didn’t mind. It sort of helped emphasize the point.

She’d asked him to take a bit of artistic license—as well as the dildos in her pussy, she’d asked him to add a real cock or three (in reality, five was her limit, but she figured most advertisements lied a little) and she wanted him to replace the corded shutter release in her hand with another cock.

And, of course, she’d asked if he could cover her in as much cum as possible, without masking any of the tattoos.

Brendon had spent the day doing some reading to make sure he could fulfil her last request as accurately as possible—she’d asked him to make her pregnant. The photo was fairly slutty as it was, but pregnant? She knew that it would be enough to make a saint hard.

A tattoo of herself, pregnant, covered in tattoos, full of cock, doused in semen, on her back for any man fucking her to look at. It was her masterpiece, and with it, she’d be complete. She wouldn’t be able to get any more tattoos unless she started getting them on her face.

And that would be ridiculous, of course. What kind of businesswoman would get a tattoo on her face?

* * *

As she pressed “record” on the video camera that one of the men had brought, Abigail smiled in triumph.

This was it. This had to be it. She was, at long last, ahead of the trend.

This was her trump card. It was going to work.

When women on the site had started recording themselves having sex with men, staring into the camera and mouthing stuff like “You could be next”, or “I wish this was you,” Abigail had been worried.

A few people had even taken video of themselves with another woman—a few profiles had become joint accounts, advertising two women simultaneously. Abigail suspected it was against the site’s terms and conditions, but since they stayed up, figured that the owners must have just been turning a blind eye to it.

Cum-shots had long been the norm (it was rare to find a default picture that wasn’t a heavily made-up woman’s face covered in cum) and that had been fine—she’d taken a few after Brandon had finished her tattoo, without even thinking about using them on the site. When the latest trend had begun,

Abigail had considered calling Brandon back, recording herself blowing him, or having him fuck her ass. But when she’d picked up the phone, an even better idea had come to her, one that would put her so far ahead of the pack it was impossible that she wouldn’t hit the top 20...if not the number one slot.

It had been surprisingly easy to set up. An ad on craigslist, a few phone calls to guys she’d gone to highschool or college with, and the stage was set.

She was going to have the first DesireDating profile that featured a gangbang video.

As the first three men slid into her, Abigail’s eyes rolled back with pleasure.

This was going to look so hot, she was sure to get her first message. Surely at least one guy on the website would see the video and be interested in going on a date with her.

* * *

It was 2am, and Abby was utterly exhausted—each of the ten men who had shown up had cum on her face at least twice each (she’d known at the time how great it would look on camera) and once they’d left, she’d spent a few hours uploading highlights from the video and updating her profile pic to a screenshot.

She’d been unable to sleep until she knew the video was uploaded, and as soon as it informed her that her gangbang vid was online, she’d collapsed into bed, convinced that she’d be able to sleep for a week. She didn’t see how many hits her video got, or watch her rank on the site rise until she finally got to number one, she just slept, dreaming of the website’s throbbing, glowing, pulsing logo.

But the second she heard the sound informing her that she had a new email, Abby was up, dashing straight to the computer to see who had contacted her.

“Dildocumslut,” the subject line read (Abby had changed her username a few times, before settling on the one that she thought best described what she wanted from the site), “you have one new message.”

Abby begun to laugh, accidentally spurting cum onto her bedsheets as she did. (she’d taken to sleeping with multiple dildos in each of her holes, but the slickness of her own juices and the sheer amount of cum inside her had caused them to slide out during the night, leaving nothing but huge, gaping holes.)

It had happened! It had finally happened! All of her hard work, all of the money she’d spent, all of the tattoos that she’d gotten...it had all paid off.

“OfficeRob69” wanted to meet her, and Abby couldn’t wait. Ignoring her hunger (she hadn’t had the time or money to go grocery-shopping in a few days; if she hadn’t swallowed more than twenty loads of cum, she didn’t know what she would have done) and her aching muscles, Abby cleaned herself off, put on her sexiest outfit (little more than a miniskirt and a bra), inserted her favourite XXL butt plug, and set off for the address that she’d been messaged.

She was going to make sure that OfficeRob69 got his five dollars worth, that was for sure.


	Chapter 2: Amber

### Chapter 1:

Amber had picked out her shortest skirt that day—she’d known it would draw a lot of attention, and though she had a large collection of slutty outfits, she’d really wanted to make an impression at the party.

Of course, the skirt wasn’t drawing nearly as much attention as the three cocks she was alternately sucking, or her EE breasts (which had been bared as soon as she’d arrived at the party) or even the presence of Cathy, the young mousey-looking freshman who was kneeling between her legs, licking her out as she fellated the three strangers.

But just in case someone didn’t notice any of that, the short skirt was sure to impress them.

The cock in Amber’s mouth suddenly exploded, causing her to cough and splutter on its offering. A line of cum dripped down the side of her face, and she tapped Cathy, gesturing for her to lick it off.

The lick quickly turned into a passionate kiss, which in turn quickly became a session of snowballing, and the sight of the two college girls passing cum back and forth between their mouths caused the second cock to erupt, dousing both the girls in a fresh load.

“Well,” Amber said, smiling, to the owner of cock number three. “I guess that makes you the winner...”

Amber quickly rearranged herself, and it was only a minute before Cathy was eagerly guiding the cock into Amber’s well-lubricated pussy, then sitting on on Amber’s face as the man fucked her.

_I knew this skirt was the right choice,_ Amber mused, as her tongue reached out and made contact with Cathy’s virgin pussy.

* * *

### One month earlier…

Rob stormed up to his room. His bitch of a sister was leaving in two days, and he couldn’t wait.

Until she’d left for college two years ago, he’d never really understood what an unpleasant human she was. As soon as she’d moved out, it was like his whole family had breathed a sigh of relief. 

Her presence was practically toxic—it wasn’t even that she _tried_ to be horrible (most of the time)—she was just so used to getting what she wanted that she couldn’t handle anything less. If anything went even slightly wrong, her smiling face would suddenly turn stormy, and the rest of the house would suffer her temper.

The main cause of the problem was her looks—Amber was drop-dead gorgeous. She had an athletic build that she didn’t even have to work for—long, dirty-blonde hair, a perfectly proportioned face, freckles lightly dusted across her nose, and huge, blue eyes.

It was these eyes that had led to Rob’s parents spoiling her non-stop for the first sixteen years of her life. Everything she’d wanted, she’d been given immediately. Often before she even had to ask, they’d provide her with whatever her heart desired.

Not that they were the only ones, of course. Anyone, upon looking at the gorgeous child (who had grown into an even more gorgeous teen) would fulfil her request, often tripping over themselves in their hurry to do so.

When she’s turned sixteen, she’d asked her parents for a car. Rob’s family could easily have afforded it, but they’d noticed how often the young girl was getting her own way, and so they’d refused.

What had followed had been the temper tantrum of a lifetime. She’d refused to leave her room, refused to eat, told her entire family how much she hated them, threatened to leave home, threatened to kill herself...it went on and on, until finally, Rob’s father had given in, and taken her to the dealership.

They’d returned with the exact model and make that she’d wanted—it had cost almost twice the family’s main car, but not even Rob’s mother had said a word.

After that, although aware that they’d created a monster, there was nothing that her parents could do. They managed to avoid any more major incidents, made sure to raise their other two children well, and when Amber had graduated high-school and was accepted into a college halfway across the country, they’d paid the fees without hesitation, and waved goodbye a few months later.

The second she left, the whole house had noticeably relaxed…but every summer, she returned for a visit.

It was, without fail, the worst part of Rob’s year. Each and every year, Amber would return, take over the house, invite all of her equally-bitchy friends over, and relentlessly torture her younger brother. For some reason, their younger sister Annie was never the target—perhaps because they were both females, perhaps because Annie was equally gorgeous (but completely unspoiled) or perhaps simply because she knew exactly which of Rob’s buttons to press.

Rob wasn’t born with his sisters’ looks—he wasn’t unattractive, but he certainly wasn’t a head-turner like she was. At one point, he’d entered a local competition to see who could get the most Twitter subscribers—she’d heard about it, and entered as well, just to mess with him.

She’d never updated it, just changed the profile picture to a full-body shot, and emailed a few high-school friends. Word had spread that Amber had a Twitter account, and before long, she’d had over 500 followers, and won the competition without updating her feed even once.

Rob was fairly sure that she didn’t even know how to access her Twitter any more—except for when she’d signed up, she’d never even visited the site. And a year later, she still regularly got new followers—every notification email she received would be read out to the room, just to watch Rob’s face burn with fury.

She had a cruel streak, and it came out when she got bored.

That afternoon had been the worst. He didn’t know how she’d managed to find so many girls as bitchy as herself, but whenever she came back into town, they all assembled in the house, and seemingly dedicated their time to making his life a living hell. He’d been alone in the lounge-room, playing a video game. One of his sister’s hottest friends had wandered in, seemingly by mistake—he didn’t even know her name, but she’d sat next to him on the couch, and asked if she could join in.

A few minutes later, she’d put her arm around him, and started whispering in his ear. He should have seen what was coming—of _course_ he should have seen what was coming—but she was hot, and he was horny, and soon, at her instruction, he’d taken his pants off.

That was the moment when his sister and all her friends had come through the door to point and laugh at him. There had been a strange pause for a few seconds, but it was soon broken, and they’d all simultaneously burst into peals of laughter.

Rob, beet-red, had gone upstairs to masturbate and plot his revenge.

* * *

It was obvious, once he’d thought about it for a while. More than anything, more than even her car, his sister valued her reputation. And while he didn’t have the sway to affect her reputation at her new college, he knew a way that he could slowly and systematically destroy it back at home.

There were a few steps he had to take first. He’d managed to steal his sister’s phone while she was napping on the couch—a simple gmail filter was enough to ensure that if someone decided to email her and tell her what was happening, she wouldn’t receive it. Amber had been first in line to get the new google phone, but a quick glance at it confirmed what he’d suspected—she didn’t have a single app installed.

Then, he needed access to her unused Twitter account.

She’d bought a new phone since last logging into Twitter, so he couldn’t rely on the cookies to get him in. He returned the phone without her even noticing, and quickly put his google-fu to work.

Half an hour later, he had the program he was after—“Master Hacker”—a quick virus-scan didn’t show any malware, so he installed it, and followed the attached instructions. He entered his sister’s Twitter username, her date of birth, the name of their first dog, and all the other personal information he could find.

It was soon done, and he sat there, the empty field in front of him brimming with possibility. The program would remotely update Amber’s Twitter feed, and (he hoped) she’d be none the wiser.

Rob decided to wait until she was out of town—he didn’t want to risk anyone mentioning her feed’s sudden life—and then let the games begin.

### Chapter 2:

_August 18th:_ gr8 to be back at school—can’t stop checkin out all the hot guys, lol

_August 20th:_ oh god, homework is so hard. wish i could find a big smart man to do it for me!

_August 20th:_ tuesday night—time to get waaaaasted

_August 21st:_ ugh class on a hangover. not my idea of a good time! i’m too cute to think, right?

_August 21st:_ okay i have no idea what we’re meant to be learning today. checking out my classmates instead—even the girls look pretty sexy.

_August 21st:_ gonna try to convince one of the nerdy guys to run me through what we learned today...and maybe just run me through, lol. wish me luck! ;)

* * *

Steve’s eyes boggled, almost falling out of his head. The sight of Amber’s blonde hair as she bobbed up and down on his cock was almost more than he could cope with. He wasn’t the kind of guy who got head at all, let alone from a hottie like her...

When the blonde girl had walked up to him after class, Steve had looked around, confused. He’d never so much as spoken to Amber in his life—he knew her name, of course, everyone did. She considered herself the queen of the school, and...well, she wasn’t too far off. She ruled at every party, had her pick of men to date, and normally wouldn’t even deign to glance at a nerd like him...but there she was, making eye contact and walking straight toward him. Like he was…like he was a person or something.

“H-h-h...hi?” he stammered, but she just smiled in response, like she found his nervousness cute.

“Hey!”

A few minutes later, they were tumbling into an empty classroom. She’d asked if he could “drill her” on what they’d been learning that day, and though Steve was far from experienced, even he couldn’t misinterpret that. Within a minute she had his pants off, and within five he was cumming into her mouth.

“Wow...” he said, and Amber winked at him, opening her mouth to show him her cum before she swallowed it down.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” she said, a cheeky smile on her face, “and we might be able to do it again...”

Steve just nodded as she left. She was halfway to her next class when she realized that she’d completely forgotten to ask him for notes from class.

With a shrug, she decided not to worry about it. Worrying was for other people, and if she’d started there, she would have had to reflect on her uncharacteristic decision to drink the previous night (something she normally saved for weekends), or the hangover that had hit her so hard that morning (normally she was a girl who held her liquor extremely well.) 

Instead, Amber just ran to her next class, hoping she hadn’t missed too much...if she had, she might have to find another boy to “fill her in”. Or maybe even a girl...

* * *

Reading the replies that Amber was getting, Rob couldn’t help but chuckle. On some level, of course, he knew that his sister was hot, but he’d never been attracted to her. He’d seen guys drooling over her in the past, but he hadn’t realized how far-reaching the attraction was until the replies had started pouring in.

“@AmberPeach92 hey girl—I’d love to help out out with your homework. Let me know when and where!”

“@AmberPeach92 havin a crazy nite? me too! hey maybe we shoud get together some tuesday yeah?”

“@AmberPeach92 really ur into girls? lol i never knew! me too lol”

“@AmberPeach92 yeah babe u shudnt have to think if u dont want to...”

Even some of her girl friends were replying.

“@AmberPeach92 u go gurl!!”

“@AmberPeach92 good luck!”

“@AmberPeach92 oh my god I can’t believe it I wish I ha dyour guts!!!”

And best of all, no one thought that it was anyone but Amber writing the tweets...Rob smiled. He could easily turn it up a notch or two without anyone getting suspicious. By the time he was done, everyone was going to think his sister was nothing but a slut...when she next set foot in town, all of her girlfriends would have completely lost respect for her, and she’d be met by nothing but horny guys wanting to take advantage of her.

* * *

_August 23rd:_ things ive learned today: guys really like it when you dirty talk to them! take note, ladies.

_August 24th:_ best thing about living on campus is that if you stay the night after a hookup, its super easy to head home b4 class

_August 25th:_ oh my god its been hot lately. still, i guess it’s a good excuse to show some skin, hey? ;—)

_August 25th:_ mmmm, all those guys checking me out today got me so worked up. time for a glass of wine and a little “alone time”...

_August 26th:_ gawd panties can be a bitch. u no wat? im taking a stand—2morrow, no bra, no panties. who’s with me?

* * *

Professor Moore was halfway through a sentence when Amber flashed him.

A stalwart professional, he managed to finish the thought without hesitation, but his mind began racing immediately. He’d been lecturing for twenty years, and though he’d had his fair share of come-ons, none had been quite so brazen. It was surely deliberate—why else would she have sat in the second row, worn a short skirt and no panties, and spread her legs so far apart?

He made eye contact with her, but she just looked at him as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He continued lecturing, but his eyes were constantly drawn to his star student’s exposed pussy.

Moore had noticed that Amber had been acting differently recently. He normally wouldn’t have cared one way or another, but Amber was...well, she was the kind of girl that you couldn’t help but notice. And in the last week, she’d started coming to class later and later, wearing fewer and fewer clothes, and spending most of her time staring at the other students.

He’d even overheard her chatting up another of the students after class. Again, not something that would normally have stuck in his mind—two decades of teaching causes one to be exceedingly uninterested in the personal lives of students...but she’d been blatantly hitting on a boy who could only be described as a “nerd”.

And now this.

Tempting though it was, Professor Moore knew that he couldn’t respond in any way. Intimacy with a student was off-limits, and he certainly wasn’t interested in putting his job at risk.

Still, if he was ever going to do it, Amber would be the one to do it with...

He shook his head of the thoughts, and tried to avoid staring at Amber’s exposed pussy for the rest of the class.

* * *

The second she got back to her dorm, Amber’s fingers thrust into her soaked cunt. Her teacher was so dreamy, and she was certain that her escapades in class that morning had turned him on. God, she had no idea that showing off could be so _hot_. The feeling of all those eyes on her, the knowledge that every guy in school wanted to fuck her...

As she came around her hand, Amber grinned widely, a slightly manic look in her eyes. She had no idea she had this latent exhibitionist side, but it was definitely something she was interested in exploring...

* * *

_August 27th:_ oh god, theres nothing like waking up next to a man and having long, slow morning sex. until afternoon ;)

_August 28th:_ ok i’m looking at my wardrobe and i have no idea what i was thinking. god what boring clothes. shopping time!!

_August 29th:_ got some great new stuff! i swear, anyone who sees me in this will want to fuck me for sure.

_August 30th:_ what do u think of my new piercing? maybe i’m exploring my dyke side LOL.

As Rob uploaded the picture, he couldn’t help but be proud of his efforts. He’d had a pirated copy of photoshop for years, and finally found a compelling reason to learn how to use it. The piercing that he’d digitally added actually suited Amber—it was a simple septum piercing, with one end in the shape of a love-heart, and the other in the shape of a star. He was planning on adding a few more piercings over the coming weeks, and maybe even a tattoo or three.

Rob had been careful not to use any family photos. When she inevitably found out about the Twitter account, he wanted to make sure that there was no possible way it could be linked back to him. Master Hacker claimed to be untraceable, so he knew that if he got caught, it would be due to human error. To his surprise, the replies to his last few days of tweeting had continued to be positive, even from some of Amber’s more conservative friends.

“@AmberPeach92 haha, u kno wat? im going to join u! no more panties!”

“@AmberPeach92 holy shit amber id luv to see ur skin. pics plz!”

“@AmberPeach92 Dirty talk? I’ll try it on my husband! I’ll mention it was your idea—I’m sure he’ll love that. ;)”

Perhaps popularity was a self-fulfilling loop, Rob mused. He’d have to _really_ start pushing the boundaries if he wanted the reaction he was looking for...

### Chapter 3:

Amber panted with pleasure as Heather’s fingers plunged in and out of her. She’d never really had any interest in being with a woman, but the second she’d come home, the second Heather had laid eyes on her...

Without a word, they’d lunged at each other and attacked each other’s mouths. Heather’s lips were so soft, and her tongue was so insistent...Amber’s hands furiously ripped the girl’s clothes off, and dove straight for her roommate’s pussy.

“Oh, god...” Heather had moaned, as Amber tasted her sweet wetness. She couldn’t believe how turned on she was—they hadn’t even stopped to close the blinds, and the knowledge that anyone walking past could see her—see _them_ —just turned her on more.

Amber got her room-mate off with her mouth twice before Heather had insisted on returning the favour. Now, two hours later, they were just laying on the floor making out, while Heather fingered her. Amber loved that she could taste herself on Heather’s mouth, loved knowing that they’d left a wet patch on the carpet...she just loved everything about the situation.

As she came for the fifth time since returning home, Heather’s fingers withdrew, and they just held each other for a few minute.

“I didn’t know you were a lesbian...” Amber murmured, and Heather laughed.

“I’m not. I’ve got a boyfriend, actually...there was just something about you, something about those clothes. You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

“Yeah...” Amber said with a smile.

There was another long pause.

“So, are you?” Heather asked, and Amber shook her head in response.

“Nope,” she said. “I guess I’m just...exploring my dyke side a bit.”

To the dismay of the gaggle of boys who had gathered outside the window, Amber closed the blinds, and helped Heather get up.

“Oh dear...” she said, a pout appearing on her face. “You’ve gotten all...dirty. Join me in a shower?”

* * *

_August 31st:_ evry day i try to do something i havent done b4. #yolo

_October 1st:_ thinking of getting a tatt or two. tattwo. what do you think i should get?

_October 2nd:_ smile :)

_October 3rd:_ making a guy hard is the sexiest feeling. ive been so busy lately. you know what they say—cocks won’t suck themselves!

_October 4th:_ feeling adventurous! today im going to try 2 men at once. will let y’all kno how it goes ;)

Stalking the campus like a lioness, Amber’s eyes scanned over all the available men.

They just all seemed so...yummy.

Ever since she’d slept with her housemate, Amber’s life had suddenly gotten a lot more interesting. She didn’t know what had made her feel so adventurous recently, but almost every time she left her dorm, she found something new that she suddenly couldn’t resist doing. The groundskeeper, for instance.

Even within her dorm (on the nights she went home) Heather and her had become quite explorative. Amber had been introduced to a range of sexual activities that she’d never even heard of—scissoring, tribbing, rimming, and her new favorite, FISTING…and on the rare occasion that Heather was out and Amber wasn’t, she had been given free access to her dormmate’s large collection of toys, clamps and ropes.

It only took her a few minutes to find two suitable men—she didn’t know if there’d been a sudden influx of hotties to her campus, or if her increased libido just meant that she was suddenly noticing them, but there was no shortage of guys she was interested in exploring.

Rather than approach them directly, she posed and stretched in front of them. It couldn’t have gone better if she’d scripted it—they noticed her almost immediately, and after she’d “innocently” bent over and exposed her lack of panties, they got up and approached her.

“Oh hi!” she’d said with a giggle, and less than five minutes later, both of their cocks were inside of her.

The feeling of fullness, she decided. That was her favorite thing about being used by two men at once. Well, that and the delicious dirtiness of it—more and more, she was finding herself enjoying the feeling of being filthy, a dirty little slut, nothing but a whore designed to take men.

One of the men grunted as he filled her pussy with his seed. _I never learned their names…_ she reflected, before her eyes rolled back and she came. Even as she bucked in orgasm, her mouth never slowed down, and it wasn’t long before the other student was cumming as well.

He pulled out his phone as she opened her mouth to show him his own seed, and though she’d just cum, her pussy heated up at the idea of having the pictures distributed around campus.

_Everyone would know what a slut I was…_

She’d been planning on a quickie, but the thought of all those men distracted her, and it wasn’t until her nameless friends were cumming inside her for the third time before she remembered that she had a class to go to.

* * *

_October 6th:_ got my first tattoo 2day! and my second, 3rd and 4th. i may have gone a bit overboard ;)

_October 6th:_ check them out! and next time u see me in real life, if you want a look, all you have to do is ask...

The pussy-mound tattoo was Rob’s favorite. For obvious reasons, he didn’t actually have any pictures of his sister showing her pussy mound, but he’d put the effort into picking a girl with a similar skin-tone and build as Amber, and was close enough (he hoped) to fool the ever-increasing group of followers that his sister’s Twitter feed was amassing.

It was three love hearts of increasing size, but positioned as if they were floating out of his sister’s pussy. The accompanying caption was “overflowing with love”, which he was starting to consider photoshopping onto the photo itself, as a new tattoo. Perhaps after her next “visit”, he pondered.

The rest were good as well, but as he’d had to photoshop them onto an actual picture of his sister, the quality was a tiny bit lower. A busty, topless mermaid on her forearm (who bore quite a strong resemblance to Amber herself), a tongue cheekily poking out of full, ruby-red lips...and the words “bad girl” on a heart, tattooed onto her right boob.

No matter what he did, the (normally quite conservative) members of his hometown lapped it up. He’d thought that he would finally be able to shock them when he’d had Amber’s twitter feed announce that she was sucking cock and going to take on two men at once, but instead he’d been sent a huge number of “good luck” tweets, and stories of threesomes, as detailed as 140 characters would allow.

He wasn’t even sure that the shot of “her” pussy would be enough to offend anyone—judging by some of the PMs that he was seeing arrive in the inbox, it would possibly even be welcomed with open arms.

Rob made a mental note to sit down and come up with some stuff that was bound to make Amber’s army of followers look down on her. With a bit of effort, he was sure he’d be able to find something appropriately distasteful...

* * *

The artist raised one eyebrow when Amber showed him her requests.

“You’ve never had a tattoo before...and _these_ are what you want to start with?“

“Exactly,” Amber beamed, adjusting her top to show as much cleavage as possible. It was a trick she’d learned many years ago, but only in the last few weeks had she discovered that there was no need to be subtle about it.

She’d woken up that morning feeling...wrong. Like something was missing. Strangely uncomfortable in her own skin. She’d been halfway through giving the guy she’d brought home a blow-job when she’d realized exactly what it was—she was missing her tattoos.

The thought hadn’t really made sense at first—she’d never had any tattoos to miss—but by the time last night’s pick-up had unloaded into her mouth, and was positioning himself to enter her pussy, Amber had decided that she was overthinking it. It didn’t matter that she’d never had the tattoos, they were hers, and they were missing, and she was going to remedy that first thing in the morning.

Even if it did mean missing another class.

She’d been so excited that she hadn’t wasted time on a shower—the tattoo artist had given her another strange look when he’d gotten to the tattoo she was getting right above her mound—but Amber wasn’t bothered. The thrill she was getting from watching the needle permanently etch her skin with designs felt so good, so _right_ that it was hard to care about anything.

Finally the tattoos were done—the artist carefully put protective plastic over them, but Amber knew that the second she got home, she’d rip it off. She wanted...no, she _needed_ to see the designs that were going to be decorating her for the rest of her life. They were simultaneously comforting...and hot.

As she went to pay, a pang of doubt hit Amber for the first time. They weren’t cheap—she’d insisted on getting the best artist in town (her body deserved nothing less, she’d told herself) and they were going to eat into a significant chunk of her savings.

_Ah well,_ she thought, forcing the worries out of her mind. _I’d happily pay this twice over—if I had to choose, I’d rather have my precious tattoos back than eat!_

### Chapter 4:

_October 7th:_ hav decided to hold a cock-sucking comp with other girls on college—but can’t decide on prizes! isnt pleasing men its own reward? ;)

_October 8th:_ i won the competition. i think some of the other girls were annoyed with me. hey, no one ever said that boyfriends were off-limits!

_October 9th:_ i can’t even imagine starting the day without waking up to a cock or 2 inside of me

_October 10th:_ u no wat they say—blondes just wanna have anal sex!

Amber was glad to have Heather there, but also a tiny bit embarrassed. It was an awkward position, and while her dorm-mate’s words of enthusiasm and gentle hand-holding were helpful, Amber wanted to make sure that Heather wasn’t going to think any worse of her if she couldn’t go through with it.

On the other hand, of course, having Heather watch her own boyfriend take Amber’s anal virginity was one of the hottest things she could think of.

The topic of anal had come up over dinner—Amber had admitted that she was desperate to try it, and Heather had admitted that she didn’t like it, but her boyfriend bugged her for it all the time. The solution had been obvious.

At first, Graham had been slightly uncomfortable learning what the two dorm-mates had been up to, but when they started demonstrating some of their favourite positions, he’d warmed to the idea. And when the two girls had added that he was allowed to be the first to take Amber’s ass, he had quickly decided that he was okay with everything.

Now Heather was sitting and holding her dorm-mate’s hand as she bit down on a piece of rope, and Graham’s lubed-up cock slowly slid into her. She hadn’t questioned the urge to be fucked in the ass—she’d just accepted it as something that she wanted to do. And Amber prided herself on being the kind of girl who went out and did whatever she wanted to do.

Thirty minutes later, Graham was bucking into her with full force, and Amber was screaming out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Cum inside me!” she cried, simultaneously wanting him to cum so that it would be over, wanting him to cum because she loved nothing more than to bring men pleasure…and wanting it to go on for just a little longer, because she could feel her own orgasm approaching.

Graham obeyed her instructions, and the pair collapsed onto the ground, with Heather watching from the side, wide-eyed.

“Wow...” she said, and when Amber beckoned for her talented mouth to finish the job that her boyfriend had started, she obeyed without question.

* * *

_October 11th:_ all men want me, all women want to be me. its rough being this sexy ;)

_October 15th:_ sorry havent been on ehre much. has been a hell of a ride lately! just like me—check out my new round of tattoos

_October 15th:_ i decided that if ur body is a canvas, u mite as well go all out, hey?

_October 15th:_ also they had a sale where piercings were half price with evry tattoo. it wud hav bin stoopid not to, rite? ;)

This, Rob told himself, this would surely do it.

The images on his computer were no longer that of a Californian beach-babe. They looked like they were from the centrefold of an alternative magazine. He’d spent a few days learning more and more advanced photoshop techniques—it had become an obsession, and one that he’d allowed himself to indulge.

It had started as a fairly tame picture of Amber in a bikini. He’d altered everything except for her face—his sister’s bust-size had been significantly increased, the bikini had been digitally removed, and Rob had given her almost a dozen more tattoos. Above her ass was a pair of bike handlebar’s, inviting anyone who saw her appealing rear to go for a ride. Above that was a bold-type tattoo reading “Daddy’s Girl”, and below was a series of checkboxes with accompanying text: “is a slut”, “loves cum”, “does porn”, “sucks cock”, “is a bimbo”...

All of the boxes were checked.

On her washboard stomach was a tattoo of a centaur fucking a schoolgirl while she deep-throated the huge cock of a minotaur, and on her collarbone was a tattoo of her cunt, exactly to scale. He’d added more topless women, many of them making out, and a pair of kinky nuns—one of them wore a strap-on as big as her leg, and was plowing it in and out of the other’s gaping cunt. On her thigh, he’d given her a tattoo of a holster, carrying an enormous vibrator, and under each nipple was written “clamp me!”

What’s more, he’d altered all of the tattoos he’d added in the first round—the extended tongue was now pointing toward a cock, spraying cum in its direction. He’d followed his gut and included the words “overflowing with love”, but “love” was crossed out, and “cum” scrawled underneath. And the mermaid was now being roughly fucked in the ass, pulling its own nipples as hard as possible.

The piercings followed no particular pattern—she had at least five studs in each ear, an industrial in her left and an ear-cuff in her right. Her nose had one huge piercing, which was connected to her eyebrow ring with a chain. And her left nipple, belly-button, and clit had matching glitter studs.

The half-dozen photos finished uploading to Twitter, and Rob smiled with the knowledge that this would both serve to arouse his sister’s fan club, and destroy any chance she had of every being respected in their hometown again. Even if people knew it was fake, every time they looked at her, they’d secretly wonder if she was pierced, or if that was really what her genitals looked like...

Though he’d never even been remotely attracted to his sister, Rob had been unable to resist rubbing one out as he’d meticulously photoshopped his favourite porn-star’s huge, fake tits and well-fucked, gaping pussy onto the image. Looking at the final product, he reached out and grabbed his lube once more. He wondered how many other people would be getting themselves off, imagining his sister before them, begging for their cum...

* * *

Even after her bank-breaking visit to the tattoo parlour, Amber stood in front of the mirror, almost crying in frustration. She didn’t...she didn’t look right. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with _her_ , and she didn’t know what.

Much of her skin was red from the newly-applied tattoos, but that wasn’t it. That was a necessary side-effect of having the perfect images that she’d woke up suddenly needing, and Amber accepted that. One of her piercings already looked like it was infected—they’d warned her that it wasn’t wise to use anything but the stud for the first week or two, but she’d insisted…

That wasn’t it either. No, it was something else.

“You...ungh...look...oh!...gorgeous, babe...” Heather said, attempting to console her as Graham’s cock slid in and out of her ass. Ever since she’d dyed her hair blonde, in an attempt to emulate her dorm-mate, she’d been insatiable. Graham was barely able to keep up with her—and he didn’t know about the men that Heather and Amber shared on nights that he couldn’t stay over. “You’re so...oh yeah baby...fucking...keep going...hot!”

The sound of Heather’s orgasm made Amber smile briefly, but didn’t solve the problem at hand. She turned to the side, and the second she saw her profile, gasped.

That was it.

Until now, Amber had always been happy with what nature had given her—her breasts were perky, reasonably sized, and fit her lithe frame nicely. Now, suddenly, they were completely unacceptable.

Ignoring Heather’s pleas to her boyfriend for “just one more round”, Amber logged on to her internet banking, and looked at her account. The big zero stared at her—it had been sitting there since she and Heather had decided that two cupboards of lingerie just wasn’t enough, but until now, had never really bothered her. One of the various freshman that she’d recently begun to attract had always been able to pick up the tab when they went out—and she’d found a site that paid her just to leave her webcam on whenever she hooked up with Heather or brought a guy home.

Now, suddenly, the lack of funds was an immediate problem.

A quick phone-call to Katie, her latest follower, resulted in an email a few minutes later. A boob-job—a GOOD boob-job, that would make her tits the perky EE-cups that she knew they were meant to be—would cost more than she made in a year. It would cost almost as much as her college tuition for the next year...

Slumping back in her chair, Amber tried to imagine life without the big, round tits that she knew she had to have. It wouldn’t be worth it—guys would look at her face to talk to her, and her tit tatts wouldn’t be grotesquely stretched. What would be the point of living?

Almost as much as her college tuition...

Amber’s brain started ticking, and a few minutes later, she was logged into her parent’s account. She accessed the funds that they had set aside for her final year, and transferred it straight into the account of the surgeon that Katie had sent her. She’d have to reward that girl somehow—perhaps she could be the first to “try out” the new tits.

A few phone-calls later, and she was booked in. A wide, manic smile appeared on Amber’s face, and she turned on her webcam and jumped into bed with her dormmate. Despite Graham’s protests, watching the two young college girls make out for a few minutes managed to put a bit of life back into his dick, and it wasn’t long before Amber was on top of him, bouncing up and down...

Bouncing. After the surgery—that’s when she’d _really_ be bouncing. Amber shut her eyes and smiled at the idea...

### Chapter 5:

The first drink had been a bad idea. The second-through-fifth drinks had been a direct result of worsened judgement, caused by the first drink…and everything after that was a wash.

Rob sat up, his head throbbing. Glancing at the clock, he knew without looking that it was past 10. And that meant that Amber was home.

He’d been dreading the day so much that he’d decided to have one drink—just one, was the plan—to celebrate his last night of pleasantness. After the fourth drink, he’d come up with the idea of updating his sister’s Twitter account again...

Suddenly wide awake, headache forgotten, Rob’s mind started racing. The Twitter! What had he written? He’d remembered being frustrated—the pictures of his sister, covered in tattoos, completely naked, pierced almost everywhere one could be pierced...it had not only failed to cause shock and outrage, but everyone seemed to admire her.

There had been the expected lewd replies, but nothing else. No expressions of disgust, no judgemental messages, nothing.

And so Rob had decided to destroy his sister’s reputation as much as he could.

_October 18th:_ i am a dirty slut who only exists for men to cum in LOL ;)

_October 18th:_ dirty mind, dirty cunt, dirty ass, dirty mouth...that’s me! i guess im just dirty

_October 18th:_ god i love being used and abused. if i could b raped for a living i would!

That had gotten a few replies, but the one that had really set Rob off had been from a girl he’d always remembered as being sweet and kind—her only fault was being a little bit too religious. She’d simply said

@AmberPeach92: haha, isn’t that the dream?

He’d taken a huge swig of the port that he was drinking, and really let loose.

_October 18th:_ can’t wait to go home—daddy’s a ex-pornstar, and he says he’s going to teach me how to fuck like a pro

_October 18th:_ mom was a stripper for so long she sometimes forgets to keep her clothes on LOL—guess thats where i get it from!

_October 18th:_ god i hope daddy fucks me in the ass. its been so long...

_October 18th:_ the hardest quesiotna ne1s ever assed me is whos da betta fuck—mom or dad

_October 18th:_ on one hand dad is ENORMUS but mom’s got such a long tung

_October 18th:_ n boy does she know how to use it

_October 18th:_ i guess ull get 2 see! dad has organised a film shoot to celebrate my return

_October 18th:_ ,aybe ill finally have a film that outsells 1 of daddys...

_October 18th:_ itll b a reel famil

He’d stopped typing halfway through that Tweet, but the damage was done. What was worse, he’d fallen asleep with Master Hacker still open...if Amber had come in, she would have seen exactly who’d been spreading rumours about her.

Rob gulped. The fact that he was still alive was the only evidence he had that suggested he hadn’t yet been found out—he decided that he should go downstairs and face the music.

* * *

The plane-ride home had been good. As Amber had sat back in her seat and relaxed, she’d really had time to do some self-reflection. When she was at college, it was just sex, sex, sex...there was never any time to think.

Not, of course, that she was complaining. In fact, she thought, sex was really when she felt happiest. It was fun, she was good at it...and best of all, she got to get men off.

Amber loved getting men off.

She hadn’t really thought about it like that before—she’d been pursuing sex out of an inner drive, a desire to get fucked, but that wasn’t what it was all about. It was about getting men off.

And who was best at getting men off? Not good girls, that was for sure. Sluts. Sluts were good at getting men off, and since Amber was the best at it, that made her a slut. Nothing but a filthy slut. Her new breasts, her long legs, her toned body...it all existed for getting men hard, and then her mouth, her ass, her cunt...they existed for getting men off. _She_ existed for getting men off.

Since that was why she existed, they were really all the body parts that mattered. Her mouth, ass and cunt. The rest of her existed to support them, and (as an added bonus) to turn men on.

Amber was suddenly aware of the other men on the plane. How rude of her! She’d been in their presence for almost 10 minutes now, and she hadn’t offered to get any—or all—of them off.

Well, she could certainly make up for lost time...

* * *

Rob nervously walked downstairs, and was shocked by what he saw.

Lights. Cameras. A director. Boom mikes, a few crew-members bustling around...one of them was holding a clapperboard.

Had his parents decided to let someone film a movie in their house?

Just as his brain was processing the sights before him, Rob saw what all the cameras were pointing at. His father, completely naked, having sex with some tattooed teenager, naked except for her heels, while his mother stood to the side in a short skirt, forcing a large toy into her cunt.

What had happened to his parents??

Rob’s hangover completely cleared as the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. As his father pulled the girl’s hair, her face came into view, and he realized that it was...it was...

It was Amber.

She was covered in tattoos—the tattoos that he’d designed and digitally added to her body—and her breasts were enormous. Rob just stood there, open-mouthed, and stared as his father plunged his enormous cock into Amber one more time, and bellowed as he came. She smiled like a cat with milk, and flipped Rob off as her own orgasm approached.

Rob staggered back upstairs, unable to cope with what he’d just seen. Even one storey up, he could still hear the sounds of his family copulating for the cameras, and he sat on his bed and tried to process what he’d just seen.

Amber had...she was...his parents...

Everything he’d written on his Twitter had come true.

The thought took a few minutes to form, several more to gestate, and almost an hour to finally sink in.

When it did, he gave it another ten minutes, just in case he’d missed something. He went downstairs and peeked at the new scene that they were filming—his father was roughly fucking Amber’s face, while his mother pounded her ass with a strap-on—and went back upstairs.

_Everything he’d written on this Twitter had come true._

He spent a few minutes reading over his tweets of the last few months—the images he’d uploaded, the off-hand comments that he’d made, the drunken posts of the previous night. Once he’d read all of his posts, he sat on his bed for a while longer, thinking.

Finally, he stood up, opened Master Hacker, and typed one final tweet.

_October 19th:_ dont think ill be going back to college next year! need brother’s huge cock too much...can’t imagine going a day without it inside me!

As he hit “submit”, Rob smiled. He listened as there was a brief argument downstairs, followed by the sounds of his sister’s six-inch heels on the staircase. His door opened slowly.

“Rob?”

“Come on in, sis.”


	Chapter 3: Annie

### Chapter 1:

Annie looked around the campus with a smile. She’d enjoyed her last year of high-school much, much more than the rest put together. Like a switch inside of her, she’d suddenly been aware of how hot the other students were…and more importantly, how hot _she_ was. Everywhere she looked, she was hit with eye-candy beyond her wildest desires. The overweight guy in the sweatshirt, poring over a chemistry textbook...she wanted nothing more than to crawl over to him, and beg to suck his cock. The rake-thin hunk with braces and acne? If he’d thrown a look her way, she’d lay down and let him fuck her right there.

She staggered toward her next class. Her head was spinning—perhaps it was the overwhelming scent of man that surrounded her, or the fact that her pussy was crying out for attention, or even the fact that she’d stayed up all night making out with her older sister…whatever it was, she’d found herself recently struggling with the course-work that she’d always found so easy. Not that it bothered her.

As she turned the corner, she heard a wolf-whistle. Behind her, a filthy-haired janitor was leering at her rear. She made eye contact with her, and he winked.

She approached him slowly, putting one heel in front of the other, ensuring that her hips swayed with every step. Her many earrings swung from side to side, matching the motion of her full breasts.

“Is there, like, a closet around here that you can show me?” she asked seductively.

It seemed she was going to be missing another class.

* * *

### One year earlier…

Rob awoke to the feeling of both his sisters’ mouths on his hard 12-inch cock.

He’d been surprised to discover that he was exceptionally well-endowed: it was apparently inherited from his father. He’d seen similarly-sized cocks in porn all his life, and just assumed he was normal.

He loved the sight of Amber licking up and down one side of his thick, veiny cock, and his younger sister Annie licking the other. But most of all, he loved the gaping, well-fucked look that their pussies got when he was done—he was lucky enough to have a member that served his fetish perfectly. At first, his siblings had hardly been able to walk after he fucked them. They’d leave the room bow-legged and dripping, their holes stretched so wide that you could fit several fingers inside of them, barely touching their cunts’ walls.

After he’d tweeted from his bitchy older sister’s account, declaring her love for his cock, she’d come straight up to his room and he’d ridden her for a few hours straight. He’d photoshopped her to look like his fantasy woman, and it felt like he was unloading a year’s worth of cum inside his college sister slut.

His father had stormed upstairs, mad that he was hogging all the young pussy, but one Twitter update later, his father was more than content to spend the rest of the day fucking his (now ex-stripper) wife, leaving Amber to be exclusively explored and used for Rob’s pleasure.

He’d been so focussed on stretching his sister that he’d forgotten about Annie—she was only a year younger than Rob, and when she returned from school, hadn’t been expecting to find her lounge-room replaced by a porn studio, filming a movie starring her parents.

The sound of her shriek had managed to penetrate Rob’s lustful haze, but before he could stop penetrating Amber, she’d stormed upstairs and walked in on her brother and sister’s incestuous tryst.

“ _Rob_!” she’d screamed, but before she could say anything else, Rob had withdrawn from his older sister, run over to the computer and started typing.+

_Amberpeach92:_ if u think im slutty, u shud see my sister! Lol srsly—next to her im lyk a virgin

For the first time, Rob watched the effects of one of his tweets—his sister’s shocked gaze slowly morphed into a look of lust.

“ _Rob_ ,” she said again, equally disapprovingly. “I can’t believe it’s taken you so long to share that monster with _me_ …”

Annie had dropped to her knees, opened her mouth, and kept eye contact with her brother as she slowly slid his huge horse-cock into her mouth. It had only softened slightly, but it immediately plumped up again as Annie’s eyes told Rob just how much she enjoyed licking her own sister’s juices off his member.

On the bed, Amber’s just played with herself as she watched Annie take a cock for the first time. Despite already cumming in each of his older sister’s holes, Rob had plenty of energy left for Annie—he was delighted to find that, true to his words, Annie managed to outpace her sister every step of the way. She was hungrier for his cum, happier to degrade herself—she even got off easier, screaming loudly about how wrong it was to fuck her own brother, about how sick it would be if he knocked her up, showed the world that she was his bitch…

Hours later, as his sisters napped on the bed, Rob smiled and opened up Master Hacker once more. He knew that Annie would get expelled if she came to school with as many tattoos and piercings as Amber had…but there were many, many places she could get inked that wouldn’t be visible to anyone in authority.

Unless, of course, his sister was naked. But if she was naked in front of them, he suspected that they wouldn’t be in a position to complain…

* * *

Over the course of the weekend, Rob explored every inch of his sisters’ bodies. It took two full days before he was finally spent, unable to get another erection no matter how hard he tried, and ordered his (still-horny, to his amazement) sisters to take some naked photos of each other while he recovered.

As Amber photographed Annie, legs spread, hands pulling her nipples and looking at the camera lustfully, Rob went online and found some tattoos that he thought would suit his younger sister’s more wild personality. He also interrupted his parents’ surprisingly acrobatic love-making session to borrow his father’s credit card. He knew that Annie would need it to get the ink she’d so soon desire, and he wanted to get the girls some toys while he was at it…

Rob’s mother barely noticed her son entering and briefly talking to his father. She’d been in a sexual haze for the entire weekend—she loved to fuck, she’d always loved to fuck…but there was something about being _watched_ while she rode her husband’s cock, or flashed her pussy for the camera. She’d not felt like this since…well, since she’d last stripped so many years ago.

Standing on-stage, watching the men in the audience get hard, knowing that they were all there to watch her, that each and every one of them wanted her…it turned her on more than anything she’d ever experienced. As soon as Rob left, she grabbed her husband’s torso once more, and pulled his huge cock into her. She’d struggled, in the past, to take the entirety of her husband’s girth, and a few years ago their sex life had dropped off for some reason, but now she wanted, with every fibre of her being, to feel her husband’s massive erection slam into her, over and over.

She wanted to be stretched out. She wanted to get back on-stage, and show the world that she could take anything and everything up any hole. She wanted the world to see what a well-fucked bitch she was…

“Yes,” she moaned lewdly, licking her lips and staring straight down the lens of the camera. “Use my dirty cunt. Fill me up, big boy!”

When Rob returned upstairs, he picked up the camera, laying forgotten by the side of the bed. Apparently the photoshoot had worked his sisters up, and they’d taken a break to get to know each other as intimately as possible. Exhausted though he was, watching young Annie lick out her older sister’s asshole was enough to make Rob’s cock twitch slightly.

“Call me a slut,” Annie cried, and Amber pulled her hair roughly and obliged.

“You dirty little fuck,” she spat. “You’ve been wanting this for years, haven’t you? Every time you’ve seen me, you’ve just wanted to rip my skirt off and stick your tongue as far up my ass as you can…”

Annie just nodded, unable (or unwilling) to pull her head away from Amber’s perfectly-formed ass. Tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks, and Rob was unsurprised to find that her pussy was practically dripping. He didn’t hesitate, immediately ramming his cock inside of his little sister as hard as he could, enjoying the twitches of pleasure his rough treatment provoked.

Photoshop would have to wait.

* * *

Annie woke up abruptly. As she sat up, she smiled to see her brother and sister still sleeping on the bed beside her.

Just two days ago, she knew, the idea of having wild, unrestrained sex with either one of her siblings would have been disgusting to her. But now, suddenly, the idea was not only attractive…she was practically dripping at the thought of waking them up and going again. There were so many positions she wanted to try…she wanted to lick Amber out while Rob’s cock slid in and out of her asshole. She wanted to see if Amber could get an entire fist into Annie’s stretched cunt, and another into her ass while she sucked Rob’s cock.

She wanted to show her parents what a dirty, dirty little slut she was.

But she also knew that her siblings needed their sleep. While they snoozed, she got up, sat in Rob’s computer chair, and turned on his PC to see if he had any porn.

When the computer loaded, however, a program called “Master Hacker” caught her eye. She clicked on the icon, and as it loaded up, she smiled.

It seemed to link to Amber’s twitter account, where she’d been boasting about her sexual exploits. Amber scrolled to the top, and started to read.

“No bra, no panties…” she murmured as she read what her sister had been doing for the past several months. When she got to the bottom, her brow furrowed.

“My sister?” How had Amber known that underneath, Annie was a latent slut. How did she know that she was even more perverted, when until a few days ago, Annie hadn’t known herself?

It wasn’t until her eyes caught the timestamp that Annie put it all together. The update about her had been typed just after Annie got home. That was what Rob had been typing when she’d walked in on Amber’s lips wrapped around his cock! That was why she hadn’t cared. That was the only reason she’d been turned on by her siblings taboo acts…

This program had somehow turned her into a slut. If Rob hadn’t typed that one little sentence, she’d still be a nice, normal girl…she certainly wouldn’t have spent the last few days doing the most perverted things she could think of.

After quickly glancing over to her brother’s still-sleeping form, Annie smiled and began typing.

She knew exactly how she could thank him for opening her eyes and giving her the best weekend of her life…

### Chapter 2:

Rob yawned, and rolled over to the increasingly-familiar sight of his older sister’s tattoo-covered boobs, and pierced nipples. He decided to wake her up by sliding his thick, veiny cock inside of her, while pulling on her piercings and—just to make sure she was awake—slapping her on the ass. As soon as he inserted the tip of his cock, however, she moaned loudly, and opened her eyes.

“Oh, _Rob_ ,” she moaned, and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in as far as he could go. “Stretch me out!”

After just a few pumps, Amber was screaming in pleasure. Rob decided to join her in orgasm—he wasn’t used to having quite this much control over his load, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was able to really let loose, filling his sister’s wet cunt with wave after wave of his semen.

“Mmmm,” he said, lay back, his sister joining him.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that he remembered Annie. Forcing himself out of bed, he wandered downstairs, to find her sitting at breakfast with their father.

“Hey Dad,” he said with a yawn. Both he and his father were completely naked, but for some reason it neither of them seemed bothered.

“Did you get off inside your sister already?” his father asked, as casually as one would enquire about the weather. Rob just answered with a grin, accepted the toast his father offered him, and sat down to eat while Annie slithered under the table to pleasure him.

A few minutes later, his mother entered, wearing her now-standard slutty make-up, and seeing what Annie was up to, joined her. The pair of tongues going up and down his cock would normally have set him off after ten minutes, but the unusual control he’d felt earlier in the day was still present, and he easily held off until he’d finished another two slices of toast (served to him, once more, by his father) and leisurely enjoyed a cup of coffee as well.

Neither his sister nor his mother showed any signs of growing weary, but remembering what today was, Rob decided not to hold back any longer, and came over both of their faces.

“Enjoy!” he said, skipping upstairs to where he knew Amber would be waiting for him.

“Hold it right there!” Rob’s father said to the cum-drenched pair, pulling out a camera. “This one’s going on the home page!”

Upstairs, Amber was laying on the bed, seeing if she could fit both fists into her stretched-out pussy. She couldn’t, not yet, but even as Rob watched, he saw that she was making progress.

“Save that one, sis…” he said, after a few minutes of watching her. “You know what today is!”

* * *

Downstairs, Annie enjoyed the feeling of her father slowly entering her wet, sloppy cunt for the first time. _But certainly not the last,_ she thought with a cheeky grin. _That Hacker program really works…I’ll have to jump on again next time I’m in Rob’s room._

She lay back as her father grunted, pounding in and out of her pussy. Across the kitchen, her mother was sitting on the kitchen bench, trying to see if she could get a rolling pin up her tight ass.

“Come on Mom, you can do it,” she said, before her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her father’s cock hit a new depth.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she replied with a grin, coating the pin with another layer of lube and trying again.

Annie shuddered in a small orgasm, but didn’t even particularly care—just the knowledge that she was the kind of dirty slut who let her Daddy fuck her bareback was enough to make her happy. Cumming was just the cream on the cake.

Less than a minute later, her father filled her with cream, the pair of them panting with exertion as he came inside his daughter for the first time. She’d started goading him just a few seconds before he came, warning him that she wasn’t on the pill.

“Do you want to knock me up?” she asked, her bright, innocent eyes shining up at him. “Do you want to put a bun in your daughter’s oven?”

That seemed to be what pushed him over the edge, and she mentally filed the information away, before getting up, admiring her mother’s efforts, and heading upstairs to join her siblings.

“Rob!” she admonished, walking in on Rob fucking Amber’s face so hard it looked like there was serious risk of her losing an eye. “Did you forget what today is?”

“No,” Rob groaned. “Of course not, Annie. I was just…finishing.”

He gave one more big, final thrust, splattering the back of Amber’s throat with cum. He pulled out, and gave Annie a hug.

“Now, let’s go get that tattoo!”

* * *

It wasn’t until they were in the car on the way to the tattoo parlour that Rob realized something was wrong. He’d never updated the twitter about a tattoo with his sister, wanting to wait until he got the photos that Amber had taken, and finished the Photoshop. And he’d certainly never discussed the idea with Annie…so how did she know?

His eyes widened as he realized what must have happened, and as soon as they pulled into the parking lot, he opened up his phone and checked Twitter.

Someone had been updating Amber’s account.

_October 21st:_ my little sister is so hot. she’s getting her first tattoo today—everyone is excited

_October 21st:_ she’s come up with a system—after her 1st tattoo, she’s going to fuck 1 guy. after her 2nd, 2…such a great idea

_October 21st:_ and now that we’re all involved, everyone has agreed—our whole family can be naked and fuck in every room. every1 is so chill abt it

_October 21st:_ i have the best fam eva!

_October 21st:_ dads gonna start up a family website 2 pay the bills so all we have to do is tape the fucking and we’ll neva have to wrry about money again!

_October 21st:_ and rob is da best lova eva. he can control his orgasms and make girls cum just by having them touch his dick. every1 thinks hes the sexiest

Rob sat back with a puzzled look on his face.

“Come on girls, get dressed,” he said without even looking at the back seat of the car. As soon as his sisters had gotten in, they’d stripped off and started making out. He didn’t know who was updating the Twitter, but whoever it was, they seemed to think well of him.

A pair of girls passed the car, and stopped for a second as soon as they saw Rob. He winked at them, and their giggle was only cut short when they noticed the two girls getting dressed in the back.

They stormed off, but Rob still mentally thanked the mystery updater. He would never have thought of making himself irresistible to strangers—in the unlikely event that he tired of his sisters, it meant that he could go out and find someone else to keep him company without effort…

On the way home, Rob had to keep telling Amber not to touch the plastic on Annie’s arm.

“She _just_ got it,” he snapped. “Here, come and hold my penis.”

With a thought, he was able to make Amber cum. It distracted her for long enough to get them home, where the whole family gathered around to admire Annie’s new ink (her father with camera in hand.)

It was a simple pink rose. Hidden in the petals was a drawing of Annie’s own little pink cunt, and underneath it simply read “open for business.”

“So who’s going to be the lucky man?” her father asked, and Annie rolled her eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want Rob’s magic cock to really start work on stretching out my asshole.”

“Do you mind if I film it, sweetie?”

“Of course not, Daddy.”

### Chapter 3:

After Annie’s second tattoo a few days later (a ring of boobs around her belly-button) Annie’s mother had to hold the camera, so that the two men taking her could be her brother and father. They bellowed as they came, Rob timing his orgasm to match his father’s, and when they were done, sat down, panting next to her.

“Who are you going to get in for number 3?” her father eventually asked, and Annie smiled in response.

“I’ve got a few ideas, Dad…”

As their father ran off to edit the recording (he’d fallen in love with the “home video” look, though was still planning on getting a crew in for special occasions) and update the website, Amber followed after him. (“He works faster when he’s being blown!”)

Annie jumped back onto Rob’s cock, and slowly slid her body up and down. She wasn’t horny, but until their extra-large toys arrived, there was no other way that she could think of stretching herself out. Her mother had a monopoly on household items—she was currently walking around with a bottle of coke sticking out of her ass, and what looked like the family’s flashlight shoved into her pussy.

There was just something about being stretched that really appealed to her—she suspected that it had something to do with Amber’s twitter account, but since Rob had caught her sneaking on (to try to give herself the world’s most sensitive nipples) he’d forbidden her from going near it again, and just to be safe, typed an entry to that effect.

If they hadn’t determined the first time a special occasion worthy of getting the film crew in, she would have suggested that Rob fuck his mother, but for now, she was happy to just sit and watch the woman desperately try to stretch out her holes, while she bounced up and down on her brother’s cock. Small orgasms rippled through her body, and when she shut her eyes, she could see herself in a few months time—stretched, loose, covered in tatts, and being gangbanged by ten, twelve, fifteen men…

* * *

Annie woke up with a smile. She loved her new life—she knew that at least part of that love was artificial, but no part of her cared. Before her brother’s meddling, she’d only ever cum a few times a week, and even then only by her own hand. Now, it was rare for her to go more than an hour without an orgasm or five—and most of them were accompanied by the delicious feeling of being stretched out by her brother. Her life had turned into a constant sexual haze, constantly pleasuring men and being pleasured…

She’d never been so happy.

Slipping out of bed, careful not to wake her mother, father or brother, Annie looked at her naked body in the mirror.

Her tits were plump and obviously fake—she’d begged to get implants for her birthday, just like her sister. Finally, after his fifth orgasm of the night, her father had agreed. She’d grinned up at him, his cum spilling out of her mouth and landing on the floor.

“See, Daddy,” she’d said seductively, “once I have the operation, I won’t make such a mess on the carpet…”

The mental image of his youngest daughter dribbling cum onto large implants was enough to get her father hard again, and Annie’s eyes had lit up at the sight of her father’s huge cock thickening once more…

Turning around in front of the mirror, Annie couldn’t help but be proud of her progress. Her asshole gaped invitingly, and she reached around, just to watch her entire hand fit into her rear cavity.

When she withdrew her hand, it was slimy, and Annie smiled. She was so frequently pumped full of cum that she was constantly lubricated, ready for whatever cock wanted to take her next.

Her tattoos had been slowly growing in number—she was up to number eight now, which meant that next time she got inked, she’d have to find nine men that she could service. Her eighth tattoo was a fierce dragon, with a ferocious look on its face, and a huge, fiery, threatening cock. It was aiming it toward a young fairy that looked like a combination of Annie and her equally-slutter older sister, dressed like Tinkerbell, bent over to expose a huge, red, ass. The fairy was reaching behind herself, opening her hole up for the dragon’s huge member, a look of fear and lust on her face…

It had been expensive, but Annie and her sister had received a half-price deal in exchange for going around to the tattoo artist’s house for the weekend and sericing his every need…

A noise behind her made her start, but it was just her brother, slowly sliding into their mother’s sleeping form.

Annie would never forget the day that Rob had first taken his mother—it had been a huge occasion, and when Annie had seen Rob typing at his computer directly beforehand, she’d known that he had something up his sleeve…

_September 20th:_ gawd my mother can squirt

_September 20th_ whenever she cums its like a flood. delicious tho! ;) my sis and I can never resist it…

When Rob’s cock had come out, his mother had stared at it, entranced, practically drooling. She’d tasted it before, but she’d yet to be fucked by his beautifully huge member…and it was becoming rare to enter any room of the house without seeing Rob screwing someone, whether it was one of his sisters, the neighbour, or even a random woman he’d picked up on the street. Ever since Annie had made him irresistible to women, he’d been taking full advantage of it…and them.

But knowing that at last she’d be fucked by her own son, the boy that she’d given birth to…Rob’s mother had seen how much pleasure he brought other women, and she was practically trembling with anticipation.

Annie and Amber had sat to the side as Rob’s father had directed the scene, running the crew approximately through what was going to happen, where to focus the cameras when, and making sure that Rob and his mother knew their roles.

They’d nodded along, but Rob had glanced at Annie, and she suspected that they’d both known that nothing was going to go as planned…

As soon as Rob had slid inside his mother’s mouth, her orgasms had started, and—just as Rob’s tweets had instructed—juices gushed out of her so quickly that Annie’s last rational thought was that her mother ran a serious risk of being dehydrated.

The fluids started flying, however, and Annie and Amber ran forward in delight, desperately keen to taste the delicious liquid, touch it, bathe in it…

Rob’s father had improvised, as necessary, and the home video of Rob taking his mother for the first time had earned a subtitle—“Sister Sluts Love Mother’s Squirts”.

Watching her mother and Rob now, Annie took the opportunity to play with herself. She knew that she didn’t have long to make herself cum—as soon as her mother did, her mind would go blank, and all she’d be able to think about would be getting her mother’s sweet pussy juice in her mouth, gulping it down as fast as it could be produced.

With a grin, her brother watched her desperately play with herself. He had complete control, she knew—with a thought, she could make their mother cum, and Annie getting her orgasm before then relied entirely on Rob’s goodwill.

As Annie forced an entire fist into her own cunt, her eyes widened. She watched Rob pull out his cell-phone, where she knew he’d recently installed the portable version of Master Hacker. She wanted to cum, but more urgently than that…she had to know what he was writing.

_February 3rd:_ Luv my sis’ pussy. As much as she stretches it, its tight again the next day. Wassup wit dat??

_February 3rd:_ Unlike my cunt wich gapes more every day—LOL

Rob watched as his sister glared, while her pussy lips began to tighten. She’d spent so long, used so many large toys…and he’d undone all of her hard work in less than a minute. He smiled, knowing that his latest updates would drive Annie crazy—Annie had become obsessed with being stretched out, and his wording had ensured that no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t be able to loosen herself as much as Amber.

Before she could say anything, he mentally willed his mother to cum, and watched as Annie’s eyes glazed over and she ran forward, desperate to taste the liquid gushing from his mother’s cunt.

The abrupt arrival of another body on the bed woke their father up, and he scowled at the sight.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me you were starting already? I would have turned the camera on…”

* * *

Meanwhile, in the room next door, Amber was awake. She’d been awake for almost 36 hours straight now—her brother had set her a challenge. She was to watch every one of the family’s DVD releases in a row, and come up with some ideas for more. Beside her was a notepad with dozens of ideas scrawled upon it, and on the other side was an industrial-sized tin of lube, the largest sex toys that the family could find, and a pile of bottled water, to prevent dehydration.

There had been more to Rob’s challenge than had met the eye.

_January 29th:_ god i luv my fam’s porn. i can never get through a whole one without having to get myself off…

As the sixtieth consecutive porno started (“Fucked and Fisted by Father”), Amber’s glassy eyes stared at the screen, and her hands automatically reached for two of the largest sex-toys: a large black dildo, and a toy that looked like a man’s fist. Since the twenty-four hour mark, she’d been exactly duplicating the action on-screen, and cumming at the same time as the women in the film (often herself) did. It saved her brain from having to think.

The large pile of watched DVDs included “DP My Mom and Me”, in which Annie and her mother had simultaneously been double penetrated (Amber had used two thick vibrating dildos for that one), “Size-queen Sis” (a video of Amber taking the “American Challenge”, a feat that she’d replicated while watching the video) and “Sis’ Gangbang Birthday”—it had only been Annie’s birthday, but for the sake of the film, Amber had joined in, and managed to take two cocks in her ass at once for the first time.

There were only a handful to go, unless her father had managed to release some more while she’d been watching. Through the entire twenty-four hours, a webcam in the corner had been live-streaming Amber’s efforts, and every now and again a family member had wandered in with suggestions from the chat.

“Mike from Michigan wants you to use a ballgag for the next few,” her father had suggested, tying it on before she’d had a chance to object.

“Some guy named Harold wants to see you do that thing with your feet behind your back,” Annie had piped in at one point.

“A chick called Geraldine thinks you should wear nipple clamps while you watch Daddy Gapes Me Best, because you were in the video,” her mother had added, a few videos later.

When Rob had come in, he hadn’t made any suggestions, just slowly fucked her ass while “Tattooed Anal Sister Slut” played in the background. When he’d cum, he’d pulled out without a word, and left to see what his other sister was up to.

Amber looked at the small pile of DVDs left to go. Every part of her ached with exhaustion, her mind was fried, and she knew that cumming through the last few DVDs would be a struggle…but she felt a strange feeling of pride.

She turned and winked at the webcam, before turning back to the screen, and slowly sliding the fist into her loose ass. She shuddered with pleasure at the feelings coursing through her body…she loved being stretched, it gave her more pleasure than anything she’d ever imagined. And with her well-hung brother and father regularly taking her, not to mention her sister’s penchant for huge toys…well, she was constantly presented with opportunities to feel her gaping pussy expand, and hang loosely.

Amber loved her new life.

### Chapter 4:

_April 29th:_ finally found a way to loosen up my virgin-cunt sis

_April 29th:_ 20 horse cocks will get that gash gapin. n a monster dildo stuck up the slots hole overnight LOL

Annie stared in awe at the present that her parents had gotten her. It was her final day of school, and—coincidentally—the day of her 20th tattoo.

It had been a big year—she’d methodically fucked half the school, her cunt growing tight again the next morning, each and every morning. By the time she seduced the last of the freshmen, she’d been delighted to find one with a cock that almost matched her brother’s—it meant that she was painfully stretched out every time, a sensation that she enjoyed more than anything.

Amber, meanwhile, had fucked around just as much, and the phrase “throwing a sausage down a corridor” had sprung to mind as she did. Amber was hugely envious of her retightening younger sister—when Annie was heartily fucked by Rob, it was like taking her virginity each time. “Stretch me!” she’d yell in ecstasy as he filled her up to an almost unbearable point.

Of course, Amber wouldn’t trade her loose gash for anything. To compensate for her own stretched-out hole, she begun taking the boys two at a time...in each hole.

At first, a few of the boys had felt iffy about it, thinking it ‘gay’, but it hadn’t taken long for her to persuade them. Amber still had the following she’d had before Rob had started the series of tweets—other than her sexy younger sister, no one else in town was considered half as sexy. If her enormous breasts and slutty attire weren’t enough, the way that she begged (as though a girl as attractive as her needed to beg) gave the men of her choosing such a surge of power that they were often, ironically, unable to resist her.

And so as she’d gotten accustomed to the feeling of two cocks sliding into the one hole at once, Amber had grown more and more explorative—she’d started sucking one guy, fucking another, and filling the rest of her holes with toys. Two in her ass, another joining the man in her cunt…at times, she cursed her small mouth—if she had the naturally wide smile of her sister, she might have even been able to take two cocks in her mouth at the same time as well.

As it was, she could only suck one, but if they had a wide enough girth, it made her lips stretch out obscenely, and her cheeks gape.

Meanwhile, the closer Annie had gotten to the end of the school year, the less worried she’d been about them being seen. Her second-most-recent tattoo was a huge snake-cock, coiled around her arm, its head forever frozen in the act of pumping out a huge load of seed into Annie’s hand.

But on this, the day of her twentieth tattoo, it was her latest ink that Annie was truly proudest of.

The artist had been extremely reluctant to do it, even after Amber and Annie had “persuaded him” as well as they were able. No matter how many times he pumped his load down their throats, no matter how perverse the acts they performed on each other while he took them from behind, he’d kept on refusing…

“You’ll regret it some day,” he’d said as Annie sucked his cum out of her sister’s ass, while she milked his cock between her huge, fake tits. “I can’t be responsible for making you walk around with _that_ for the rest of your life.“

It was only when Rob himself had intervened, using Amber’s twitter account to get the artist his ex-wife back (and giving her a perpetual hunger for his cum) that he’d given in.

The tattoo had taken almost twenty hours straight, and so when Annie had returned home, she certainly hadn’t expected the reception that was waiting for her...

“Surprise!” her father had called, before his jaw had dropped in awe at Annie’s new, elaborate face-tattoo.

Truthfully, it started well below her face—like the tan one would get from wearing a low-cut shirt in the sun, it began between her breasts and bloomed outward from there. The lowest part of the tattoo was a rose-stem, but instead of a single flower, it led to a garden of filthy body-parts, sex toys, and ropes of white cum.

At a glance, the lower half of the tattoo could almost be mistaken for a bunch of flowers, but as the tattoo rose past her breasts and onto her collar-bone, it got dirtier and dirtier...lines of cum twisted into naked people doing unspeakable acts to each other, cocks spelled out lewd swearwords, and boobs were pierced with the outlines of cunts.

It had taken Annie and Amber the better part of a week to design its intricacies, and the artist had recreated it flawlessly.

Rising up her neck, the tatt sprouted animals committing buggery on each other and on representations of Annie and her sister. But when it reached her chin, the tattoo became less abstract, simulating a drop of cum dribbling down the side of her mouth, and—the piece de resistance—spelling the word “SLUT” in large, unmistakable letters across Annie’s face, with “SL” on one cheek and “UT” on the other.

“Oh, baby...” Annie’s father said with pride. “It...you’re so beautiful.”

A tear trickled down the side of her father’s face, but Annie barely noticed—she was staring in shock at the gift that her parents had decided to surprise her with on this important milestone of a day.

* * *

The back yard had been carefully arranged—the grass was mowed, the fence was nice and high, and in the centre, where there had been a tire swing for Annie’s youth, there was now a sex swing.

But that wasn’t what caught her eye—instead, it was the twenty horses that were arranged in a semi-circle.

Annie stepped forward in grateful shock. “Oh, Mom…Dad…

“Thank you…”

She stepped forward, tearing off her clothes as she did. Her gait turned into a run as she exposed her naked body to the twenty horses. She’d wanted to fuck a horse for as long as she could remember (as Rob had been surprised to discover—he hadn’t even implanted that desire—it had been a repressed desire of hers her whole life, brought out and amplified by her need to be the biggest slut she could imagine) and now it was coming true…twenty times over.

By the time she got to the sex-swing, she was completely nude, and she strapped herself in with glee, her hands shaking with anticipation. She had never been so excited in her life. Her mother and father had already begun to lead the horses toward her, while Rob held the video camera steady, zooming in on her tight young cunt.

The first horse stood behind her, and after a gentle massage from her mother’s hand, hardened quickly. She guided it her youngest daughter’s pink tightness, and as her mouth opened in shock at the size of the phallus entering her, Annie’s father used the opportunity to insert a cock into the young girl’s mouth, this one belonging to a huge, black horse.

Annie’s body was already shuddering with joy as the horse behind her worked out what was happening, and began to thrust, enjoying the sensation of the teenage girl’s wetness as its huge genitalia slid in and out. It was operating purely on animal need, not unlike Annie herself.

The teen girl was conflicted—on one hand, she wanted to shut her eyes so she could wholeheartedly focus on fellating the huge member that was currently trying to make its way down her throat, but if she did that, she wouldn’t be able to see the black, hairy legs of the horse that stood in front of her, and maintain full awareness of what she was doing.

She was fucking a horse. No, she was being fucked by _two_ horses. She was performing acts so taboo that they were not only illegal, but most people wouldn’t even talk to her after learning what she’d done.

And she was loving every second of it. More than that—she was happier than she’d ever, ever been. Her transformation was complete: she truly was the biggest slut conceivable.

Out of the corner of her eye, Annie noticed some movement, and looked over to see where her sister was—she was acting as a horse “fluffer”, going from beast to beast to ensure that they were all constantly erect.

After making sure that the stallion humping Annie was firmly in place, their mother joined Amber in preparing the horses, and getting them excited.

Meanwhile, the girls’ father had been coating another horse’s cock with copious amounts of lubricant, and though it took some awkward shuffling, finally managed to get it into position. Annie’s eyes widened and she began to choke on the horse’s cock as in a position that she would have assumed to be impossible, her father managed to slowly start inching a third horse’s cock into her puckered asshole.

Rob smiled from behind the camera. He’d spent the morning on Twitter, ensuring that this wouldn’t cause any serious damage to the young girl, and doing what he could to make this as pleasurable as possible for Annie—even now, he could see her nipples were so ripe and plump that they practically threatened to explode, and in a few minutes, he knew that he’d be putting the camera on a tripod, and joining his family in helping their youngest member get heartily fucked by horses.

Annie’s eyes had rolled back into her head, and she’d begun to cry with happiness as the three horses abusing her body got a rhythm going, and started treating her like a mare they wanted to breed with. She was getting pounded so hard from every side that she was briefly worried about tearing, before just sinking into her own mind and enjoying the sensations.

The cock in her mouth was ready to cum, and as it thrust down into her throat, what felt like a gallon of horse-cum began to shoot directly into her belly. Her wild movements provoked another orgasm or two, and Rob made sure to zoom right in on her holes as the horses came, filling her up and then some. The camera captured some of the horse’s seed overflowing from her genitals, as the schoolgirl began to shake in powerful orgasm after powerful orgasm.

Finally, Rob couldn’t take it any longer. He waited while his parents and sister replaced the horse’s cocks, taking the opportunity to slip in and suck on his sister’s nipples. She opened her eyes in confusion, before smiling down at her brother, and then laughing at the sight of her sister—Amber had gotten a bit overexcited, watching her sister get fucked, and had stimulated a horse to orgasm. She was covered in horse-cum, and Annie knew that as soon as the second round of horses began to take her body, her mother would be rushing over to excitedly suck and lick it off her sister’s body.

“Thanks, Rob…” she said, while her sister got a horse cock hard and ready to slip into her mouth. “Not just for this…for everything. For Amber’s account.”

They’d never spoken about it directly, but Rob smiled in response to his sister’s words.

“I love you, Annie,” he said, but her mouth was too full of horse to respond.

Rob gestured for Amber to start sucking him off, as he watched Annie take the fourth, fifth and sixth horse-cocks into her small body. Her cunt would join her sister’s after this, perpetually stretched, loose and gaping.

It was going to be a long night, but he knew that the family would be closer yet by the time it was done.


	Chapter 4: Dakota (Happy)

### Chapter 1:

Dakota hated her job.

It was only ever meant to be a temporary position—reception work for a few months after college finished, then onto her _real_ career. But she was good at her job, and so when she’d informed them of her intention to quit, they’d offered her a raise. The next time she’d warned them she was moving on, she’d been swayed by the offer of a promotion.

Six years later, she was still there. Still pushing paper, still intending to move on, slowly accepting the fact that she’d probably be in this job until she died, slowly working her way higher up a chain she didn’t care about in the slightest.

Just recently, for some reason, it had been worse than ever. She didn’t just hate her job, she was struggling to find _any_ kind of joy in life—she had almost started to worry that she might be depressed, until she’d spoken about it with Holly, another one of the girls in the office.

Dakota had no idea how the conversation had even started. She and Holly were as different as cheese and chalk—where Holly was brash and outspoken, Dakota was shy, avoiding attention whenever possible. Her accounting job, as much as she’d grown to despise it, suited her down to the ground; she could hide away in her office, alone with just her numbers.

They even stood in stark contrast to each other physically. Both were gorgeous (though Dakota would never, ever describe herself that way) but Holly was more than six feet tall, with red hair that went all the way down to her butt, and a curvaceous body…which she had no compunctions about showing off. In contrast, Dakota had a petite build, standing only 5′3 and weighing just more than 100 pounds. She had short, dirty-blonde hair, and always dressed as professionally as possible, wearing suit pants and (when she felt she could get away with it) flats.

The two of them had never gotten along, but last week they’d somehow struck up a conversation, and Holly had shared that she too had been feeling extremely down—as had many of the other women in the office.

“Maybe it’s the new air conditioners they’ve installed,” Dakota suggested, making a mental note to go and talk to Rob (the office administrator) about it.

“It’s probably just the work,” Holly said with a snort, and Dakota had smiled politely. She didn’t think it was very professional to openly disparage their place of employment like that, but she certainly wasn’t going to pick a fight with a co-worker.

She sighed with relief as Holly walked away, and sat at her desk, wishing it was Friday.

_Only four days to go,_ she told herself, her heart sinking at the prospect of the week ahead. At least on the weekend she could get high—she’d broken up with Skye because he seemed to do nothing but smoke weed all day, but recently Dakota had found herself turning to pot more and more, especially after the soul-crushing depression that she felt like she was experiencing.

Sitting down at her desk, the young woman checked her calendar. Nothing scheduled—just paperwork. Mounds and mounds of paperwork.

“Four more days,” she said out loud. “Come on, girl—you can do this.”

* * *

The clock had just turned to 10am when Dakota heard an unusual sound. Something she felt hadn’t been heard in the office for a very, very long time.

It was the sound of a woman laughing.

Curious, she got out of her chair and followed the sound. It was coming from a cubicle on the other side of the room—Rob’s! Peeking around the corner of the flimsy wall separating him from the rest of the office, Dakota was surprised to find Holly leaning against the accountant’s desk, her laugh coming in snorts as she flirted with the young man. He had one hand casually stroking her hair, following it all the way down her back.

Dakota realized that her peeking mustn’t have been as subtle as she’d thought, because Rob glanced up at her, and she was surprised to find herself getting warm.

Her eyes widened. Her face flushed. She felt something new, something exciting. Something she barely remembered.

She felt…happy.

Without a word, she left the (comparatively) raucous two, and headed back to her own desk. She felt strange…shaken. A smile slowly spread across her face.

She felt good.

* * *

The next day, Dakota came into work early. Her good mood had lasted the rest of the work day: a part of her wanted to question why she’d felt that sudden burst of happiness, but she somehow felt like examining it too closely could potentially make it disappear, and so instead she just basked in the warm feeling, enjoying the sensation of joy— _joy_!—as it coursed through her body.

It finally faded only when she got home to her drab apartment. Moving a basket of laundry out of the way, she’d sunk into her chair and spent the night watching reality TV, reminiscing about how good she’d felt that day as she filed reports and faxed photocopies of emails. Normally getting home was what she lived for, but for the first time that she could recall, she’d wished that she was back at work.

For the first time, she allowed herself to wonder—why had Rob’s glance given her so much joy? It didn’t make sense. _It must have just been a coincidence,_ Dakota told herself, and realized that there was only one way to be sure.

Getting into work earlier than normal, her first visit had been to Rob’s cubicle. He’d smiled at the sight of her, and that warm feeling had filled her body again—she’d enthusiastically returned his smile, and spent the next few minutes chatting about inanities, enjoying the small burst of pleasure that she felt every time Rob made eye-contact.

Again, questioning it felt dangerous, like trying to grip a small animal too tightly. The best way to keep it alive was to give it room, let it grow. With a smile, she dismissed any worries from her head.

Her morning had continued in much the same manner as the entire previous day, but to her dismay, her feeling of joy started to fade right before lunch, and when her break-time came about, she could hardly muster up the energy to go across the road and pick up a wrap.

_What’s wrong with me?_ she thought, sitting in her chair, barely able to move. She knew that it wasn’t normal, getting so much happiness from her co-worker’s gaze, but she couldn’t even be bothered wondering why it was happening. In that moment, nothing mattered.

The thought that maybe Rob would want something too managed to perk her up enough to pay him a visit, but she was disappointed to find that he wasn’t alone—Holly was there, leaning on his desk, taking up his time. Dakota hovered nearby for a few minutes, but Rob’s attention was clearly elsewhere—Holly was wearing a particularly revealing top (even for her) and his eyes seemed to be unable to leave her bare skin, especially the prominent cleavage that the redhead was showing off.

* * *

Blushing with embarrassment, Dakota got onto the train. She was wearing skimpier clothes than she’d worn in a long, long while. Nothing particularly scandalous, but for the modest young woman, she was exposing far more of herself than she was comfortable with.

She knew it was stupid. She knew it was wrong. But in that moment, she just didn’t care—she needed to feel Rob’s eyes on her again, to give her that feeling of happiness that she was suddenly craving so much.

Dakota’s jeans were skin-tight, and her black top showed off her midriff. She knew her carefully-positioned necklace would draw attention to the cleavage that she’d made sure her push-up bra highlighted.

Dakota’s face was bright red right as she walked into the office, right until she attracted Rob’s attention.

His smile and adoring made all her worries float away.

…at least, until Holly walked past in a red tubetop dress that didn’t even reach halfway down to her knees. Dakota wasn’t interested in competing with the voluptuous older woman, and so she slinked off quietly, holding onto the last remnants of warmth caused by Rob’s gaze.

* * *

At lunch that day, Dakota went to visit Rob, but was surprised to find a crowd of women surrounding him. Even Holly looked perturbed by the competition—she sat on his desk, her legs showing off her long, toned legs, but Rob didn’t seem to care—he was too busy laughing and flirting with the other women of the office.

Dakota could feel the depression threatening to overwhelm her—even though she had no idea why Rob’s attention was so important to her, she needed it. She needed to feel joy, to stop herself from falling back into the pit of despair. She’d do anything to feel those sharp spikes of joy once more, and so Dakota returned to her desk and started googling. She had something over the other women, and she planned to use it to full advantage.

She knew Rob’s secret.

One quick phone-call later, and Dakota’s appointment was set. She’d managed to convince him to squeeze her in at the last moment, and just the knowledge that Rob’s attention would soon be firmly on her was enough to get her through the day.

Even though Rob didn’t come near her once, a small smile was on the front of Dakota’s pixie-like face until she left work that evening.

* * *

The second Dakota saw the look on Rob’s face, she knew the pain had been completely worth it. His eyes positively lit up as she strolled casually into work the next day (well, as casually as one can stroll when they’re unused to wearing three-inch heels). She hadn’t even needed to draw his attention to it, his eyes had immediately locked on, and he couldn’t look away.

Dakota was so happy, she felt like she could burst.

A year and a half ago, Dakota’s cousin had visited the office. Only briefly, to pick her up for lunch, but Rob had followed her around like a schoolboy with a crush, discussing her various tattoos.

It was clear that he was an aficionado.

Dakota knew that she didn’t have the body to compete with Holly, or most of the other women in the office. But she knew that by getting inked, she could stay one step ahead. And so she’d found the artist who had done such great work on her cousin, and gone into his studio the previous night, ready to pay top dollar to get a piece of art tattooed somewhere visible, somewhere obvious.

The idea of getting a tattoo had never really appealed to her before, but she knew that if it would draw Rob’s gaze away from the other women and onto her, it would be worth every penny. And so Dakota (who wouldn’t normally show off so much as an ankle) had come into work the next day in a floral shirt that left her newly-tattooed shoulders bare, as well as showing off a significant part of her midriff.

She almost needn’t have bothered trying with the rest of her outfit—the second Rob saw her tattoo, it was all that he could look at. She hadn’t even thought about what she wanted her tattoo to be until she’d been sitting in the chair and the well-groomed man with a needle had asked. Her mind had blanked, and so she’d pointed to the wall, and simply said “That.”

As a result, Dakota now had a gorgeous tattoo of a black flower on her shoulder. It wasn’t until he’d finished that Dakota realized why he’d given her such a strange look—the flower’s petals were drawn to resemble pussy-lips. It was subtle, but once you noticed there was no way to see it as anything other than a black pussy.

Dakota’s eyes widened in shock when she realized: she’d just had cunt-lips permanently tattooed onto her shoulder. She’d been up half the night crying about what she’d done, but the second Rob saw it, all her worries and concerns had melted away.

He liked it, and that just made her so happy. She couldn’t be sad about anything while Rob was smiling at her. She knew she should be worried about how much stock she was putting into one man’s attention, but it just didn’t matter.

When Rob was looking at her, nothing mattered.

### Chapter 2:

It was clear that Holly was furious. She’d pulled out all the stops—when the older redhead had arrived at work, she’d been wearing a form-fitting lycra dress. It was completely unsuitable for the office, but Dakota knew that was irrelevant—all that was important was whether Rob liked it.

The red latex showed off her thin waist and wide hips, but it was so tight around her legs that she couldn’t keep up with Rob, following Dakota around the office as she completed her morning tasks.

He obviously loved her tattoo. Dakota basked in Rob’s gaze—she couldn’t ever remember feeling this happy. A part of her knew it was unhealthy, a part of her knew it wouldn’t last, and a huge part of her knew that she certainly shouldn’t have gotten a depiction of pussy-lips tattooed in such an obviously visible area, but at that moment, she didn’t care.

She didn’t care about anything except Rob’s eyes on her.

Dakota couldn’t help an excited squeal escaping her lips when Rob asked her to lunch, and (ignoring Holly’s death-glare) she excitedly accepted.

Lunch with Rob—a full half-hour of his attention on her.

She couldn’t wait.

* * *

It was 2am when Dakota’s high began to wear off. She was still up—she felt so full of _energy_ : she cleaned her entire apartment, finally got around to filing her taxes, and when there was nothing left to do, just flitted around the apartment, still buzzing.

Lunch had been amazing. She couldn’t even remember what they’d talked about—her head had been so clouded with pleasure. Rob had asked her a lot of questions about her tattoos, and told her how much he admired it—how lewd it was, the way that she wasn’t afraid to wear something so overtly sexual on her skin, like a badge of pride.

Dakota had mostly just smiled and nodded in reply, which Rob had been satisfied with. He’d paid for lunch, which had made her swoon, and when they got back to the office, explained that he had a full day ahead of him.

In a desperate attempt to attract his attention, Holly had been waiting by his cubicle, running her hands over the smooth latex of her dress, but Rob barely even seemed to notice.

Again, Holly stared at her with narrow eyes—if looks could kill, even her bubble of happiness wouldn’t have been enough to save Dakota, but she didn’t care.

She didn’t care about anything.

In the early hours of the morning, however, a sudden deep exhaustion hit Dakota, and she fell straight into a deep slumber. Her alarm barely managed to wake her—the positive glow that had enveloped her the previous day was completely gone, and she felt worse than she had in weeks.

With a great amount of effort, she began getting ready, the only thing keeping her going was the knowledge that Rob would be at work. She hated how much his attention seemed to mean to her, but at the same time she knew that if she didn’t do something to make herself feel better, she’d never get out of bed again.

In an attempt to play it cool, Dakota strolled by Rob’s cubicle, hoping he’d notice and call her over. When nothing happened, she turned back, and was shocked to see what was distracting her co-worker:

Holly had apparently decided to try to steal Dakota’s thunder—the tall woman was wearing what looked like a slutty evening-gown. Like the latex dress of the previous day, it hugged her waist and hips tightly, but Rob’s eyes were firmly locked on the impressive amount of cleavage it showed.

And for good reason—Holly had gotten the top of each boob tattooed. The tattoos were a string of pin-up girls: above Holly’s left breast, one was showing cleavage of her own, the next was bent over, exposing white panties, and the next was leaning back with her legs spread, showing off a patch of pubic hair.

On the right breast, the first girl was topless, the second was naked and spanking herself, and the third appeared to be touching herself and winking.

If she didn’t feel so flat, Dakota would have been furious. Holly had flagrantly stolen her idea, and taken all of their colleague’s attention for herself.

“Rob?” Dakota asked softly.

“Mmm? Oh, hey Dakota.” Rob replied, without even looking up.

Dakota’s heart sank. With her flat chest, she knew she couldn’t compete with Holly’s cleavage, and there was no way she could find a tattoo artist and get a new tattoo over lunch. And if she had to spend the next eight hours at work hearing Holly laugh at Rob’s jokes, she’d end up killing herself—literally.

An possible solution struck Dakota, and while it didn’t penetrate the fog enough to allow smile to appear, a close observer would have seen the hint of a twinkle in her eye as the cloud of depression lifted ever-so-slightly.

* * *

“Rob?” Dakota said again, as she returned from her emergency appointment at lunch. He was still staring admiringly at Holly’s pale chest, marvelling at the way the woman’s tattoos contrasted with the smattering of freckles on her cleavage.

“Hmmmm?”

“Sorry to disturb—I can see you’re busy…”

“What is it, Dakot—…”

Holly’s voice trailed off as she looked up and saw the new additions to Dakota’s face.

The young woman had remembered that just a few doors down, there was a place that offered—among other services—facial piercings. She didn’t know whether Rob had an appreciation of piercings to match his love of tattoos, but she was desperate, and willing to take the risk.

It seemed that her gamble had paid off—at the sound of Holly’s surprise, Rob had turned to see what she was looking at, and Dakota felt her heart fill with joy the second Rob’s smile appeared.

Grinning in reply, Dakota was surprised to feel a new sensation—she could feel the anti-eyebrow piercing beside her left eye shifting as she smiled. It stung slightly, but she barely felt it as endorphins began to flood her body.

“You like?” she said shyly, and as Rob nodded in response, she felt a small shiver of pleasure go down her spine.

Why did his approval feel so _good_? What was happening—it was obvious that Holly felt it too, and some of the other women in the office. When she walked by the others’ cubicles, they were hunched over their computers, miserable. The only smiles she’d seen recently were Rob’s and Holly’s, everyone else looked like they felt as bad as she had, just a few minutes ago.

As well as the piercing to the side of her eye, Dakota had stretchers put in her ears, and a tongue-piercing as well. As she mumbled that information to Rob, his eyes widened with joy.

“That is so _hot_!” he said, “Stick your tongue out—let me see!”

Dakota obeyed, and her heart leapt again at Rob’s reaction. He was like a kid in a candy-store, and it just made her feel so content, so excited, so…happy.

Again, Holly looked furious, and just for a second, Dakota felt a little sorry for her. Until the redheaded woman reached out and literally pulled Rob’s face until his attention was on her again.

She didn’t say anything, just stuck her tongue out…and out…and out…

Rob gaped at the sight, and Dakota couldn’t blame him. Holly’s tongue looked almost inhumanly long—Dakota had never seen anyone’s tongue stick out that far before.

Almost immediately Dakota felt the joy she’d been experiencing just a few seconds ago start to fade, and panicked.

“Rob!” she said, and when he didn’t seem to hear her, impulsively stepped forward, and—standing on the tips of her toes—pressed her body against Holly’s, and poked her tongue out to meet hers.

Her action took the older woman by surprise, but upon hearing the excited sound that Rob made, Holly immediately leaned forward and pressed her lips against Dakota’s.

Aside from an extremely brief experimental period in high-school (lasting less than a few days) Dakota had never had had any interest in women. Even as she accepted Holly’s freakishly-long tongue into her mouth, the petite woman didn’t get any particular joy from the act…but Rob’s enjoyment of it caused a warm flush to spread throughout her whole body.

The two stood there for more than ten minutes, passionately kissing. Dakota didn’t know whose hands started roaming over whose body first, but Rob seemed to like it, so it wasn’t long before they were caressing and petting each other over their work clothes, fueled by the sound of Rob’s heavy breathing.

“Wow,” Rob said, stunned, as the gorgeous pair finally broke apart. “That was…wow.”

With a smile, Dakota left in an effort to get some work done before the pleasant feelings wore off. As she did, she noticed a small gaggle of women at the entrance to Rob’s cubicle—they must have heard something and come to investigate.

Rob stared after her in shock, and when Dakota looked back, she saw the other women of the office beginning to pair off, clearly trying to recreate the reaction that her session with Holly had caused.

_Good luck,_ she thought with a broad smile. Many of the women were wearing short skirts, boob tubes, and other outfits clearly chosen to get Rob’s attention, but no one else had worked out his penchant for tattoos yet…and none of them had the contrasting body-types of Holly and herself.

She felt so good. She felt _so_ good.

And she’d stopped caring why—now all that mattered was making sure she held onto that feeling.

* * *

Dakota’s sudden focus meant that she finished off the day’s work in less than an hour. She spent the rest of the hours until closing time working on new tattoo designs—she knew that Holly would be getting piercings in response to hers, and she needed to stay one step ahead.

When it was finally time to pack up and head home—she’d found a late-night tattoo artist willing to put the hours in that she required—Dakota was surprised to feel her happy haze starting to fade.

_So soon?_ she thought with a panicked sadness, before a strange sound caught her attention.

Tip-toeing over to Rob’s cubicle, she peeked around the corner to see something she never imagined she’d encounter at work.

Holly was on her knees, that long tongue of hers travelling up and down Rob’s exposed erection.

_No!_ Dakota thought to herself, and then realized she’d said it out loud. Rob’s eyes opened in shock.

“Dakota!” he said. “Oh god, I…it…it’s not what it looks like!”

“Sure it is, honey,” Holly said with a sultry pout. “Come, no need to stop…it’s not like no-tits over there is going to tell.”

If the risk of sinking back into a pit of despair hadn’t been enough, Holly’s comment would have pushed Dakota over the edge. Just a few days ago, she’d never even have considered giving head to a co-worker. Now that she’d known the pleasure of Rob’s undivided attention, however…

“Come on,” Holly said, turning her attention back to Rob’s cock. “Let’s see what this tongue can do…”

Even Dakota was impressed by the speed with which Holly managed to take Rob’s entire erection into her throat. She didn’t say anything in response, however…she just started tapping her teeth with the piercing through her tongue.

Click. Click. Click.

Rob’s eyes had fluttered shut as his cock disappeared into Holly’s mouth, but the sound of the clicking caused them to open again.

“Oh god…” he said, and as Dakota stuck out her tongue, his body twitched, and she felt the joy starting to return. “Holly…”

“Mmmm?” she said, not stopping her administrations for a second.

“I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like, getting head from someone with…y’know.”

“What?” Holly said in angry shock, as she came up for air.

“I mean…you don’t mind sharing, do you?”

There was a long pause, as Dakota stared into Holly’s eyes challengingly. At the start of the week, she’d never have had the confidence to assert herself like this. Something about getting a tattoo was so liberating, and her tongue piercing gave her a strange sense of power.

“Of course not,” Holly replied through gritted teeth, and Rob looked like a man who’d won the lottery without ever buying a ticket.

“Thanks so much. I can’t express…I can’t….oh!” he said, as Dakota sunk to her knees, and the two women took turns at pleasuring him.

### Chapter 3:

Dakota got stares the next morning. From people on public transport, from people in the elevator…even from her co-workers.

Even from the women who knew what was at stake.

For a moment, she wondered if she’d gone too far. But in her heart, she knew she was doing the right thing. She wouldn’t be able to see Rob for the weekend, and if she wanted to survive the weekend without his gaze, she had to give a show he wouldn’t forget.

She’d been up all night. After going down on Rob with Holly the previous night, she’d been so happy, so full of energy…she felt like it would never stop.

But it would. She knew it would.

And so she’d waited until Holly had left, and then called Rob, asking him to come back to the office. Telling him it was urgent.

When he’d returned, she hadn’t even said anything—she’d just waited for him, naked, and when he’d come through the office door, thrown herself at him.

Fortunately, Rob was a good catch.

Within a minute he was naked, and just a few seconds after that, he was pumping in and out her her—the first cock she’d had inside her since breaking up with Skye, she realized halfway through.

Dakota had been sure to put on a show. Moans, huffs, pants. He’d stared, transfixed, at her tattoo as she lay naked on the reception desk, spread-eagled, doing all she could to give the impression she was over-the-moon at the feeling of his cock pounding into her.

He wasn’t bad, but Dakota had no sexual interest in Rob. What she wanted was the feeling of bliss that his attention inexplicably provided.

The longer he fucked her, the better she felt—and, after letting him cum on her face just ten minutes earlier, Dakota had been feeling pretty good going in.

She wondered if Holly, driving home, was slowly feeling worse. Every time Rob’s attention had shifted to their co-worker, Dakota had found her own joy lessening, but now…now, it seemed that he was fully focussed on her, as though nothing could ever distract him again.

But it would. She knew it would.

And so she’d come up with a plan. _Stay one step ahead,_ she’d told herself. Seducing Rob—that was the first part of the plan. She needed to go all night, or at least as long as she could, and that meant she needed as much of a hit as she could get.

When she could feel Rob’s orgasm approaching, she begged him to pull out.

“Come on my face,” she said, a desperate tone in her voice. “Please, Rob…I need it.”

He’d been more than happy to oblige. When he was done, Dakota felt so happy that bursting suddenly seemed like a serious risk.

“I’ve got to go,” she said with a smile. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Rob said contentedly as he began pulling his pants up. “Whatever you say…”

Leaving Rob her panties (to further ensure her presence in his thoughts) Dakota dashed to the tattoo parlour, where the artist was waiting.

“What do you want to do first?” he’d said, unable to resist returning her radiant smile, and trying to stop herself from shaking with joy, Dakota told him exactly where to start.

* * *

The face tattoos didn’t seem to be the first thing that people noticed.

Probably because they were white. If you were looking at Dakota’s face, they were obvious, but as she caught the train in that morning, her face was the last thing they were looking at.

The tattoo artist had been extremely reluctant to tattoo her face at all, but Dakota had quickly learned that her enthusiasm was difficult to resist. It had only taken a few minutes of cheerful cajoling to convince him, and he’d tattooed the patterns she’d instructed.

To most people, they looked like white camouflage patterns, or the speckled skin of a cow. But to those with a dirty mind, they had the exact effect she’d intended—the tattoos looked like the bursts of cum that Rob had twice splattered her face with the previous day.

No, the first thing that people noticed was either her outfit, or the tattoos on her exposed stomach and back.

Remembering what Rob had said about enjoying the trampiness of her cunt-tattoo, Dakota hadn’t held back in the slightest. Across her midriff, in a huge loopy font, she had the words “Slutty whore” tattooed, and on her back it simply read “Pee on me”, with an arrow pointing to her rear said “grab me spank me touch me fuck me”.

To Dakota’s surprise, a few people had taken her up on the written offer, and during the crowded train-ride, she got groped more than a few times.

It didn’t bother her. She was still glowing from the previous night’s escapades—she just hoped that she could give Rob enough pleasure to get her through the whole weekend.

She was wearing a set of green panties and a matching bra…and nothing else. Her nipples were clearly visible through the bra, but it didn’t bother her.

Nothing bothered her. She was slowly turning herself into Rob’s fantasy fuck-toy, and if that meant he’d keep on paying attention to her, she knew she’d never want for anything else.

As she disembarked from the train, her feeling of joy started to slip away. _Holly must be in,_ she thought—she wasn’t worried. She knew that no matter what the redhead had done, Dakota would be able to compete.

When she arrived at the office, once she’d walked past the stunned stares of her co-workers, Dakota was surprised that it wasn’t Holly who’d drawn Rob’s attention…well, it wasn’t _only_ Holly.

_She must have made some phone-calls,_ Dakota thought. In front of her was what could only be described as a minor orgy. Holly and four of the other women from the office had managed to cram themselves into Rob’s studio.

They were all dressed in matching slutty schoolgirl outfits—white blouses that barely hid anything, pleated skirts that covered only a few inches of skin. A few of the women had obviously started to pick up some tricks—they had small tattoos on their ankles or shoulders. Mild things, that looked nothing compared to Dakota’s new gallery.

Holly, however, had gone all out as well. She’d continued to go down the pictorial route, with thick, muscular cocks tattooed on both cheeks and thighs, pictured shooting cum at her holes. On her arms were women obscenely pulling their pussy-lips apart, to reveal wide, gaping holes dripping with cum.

Her back was covered with women getting heartily fucked—a nun getting taken by a priest, an angel being anally penetrated by Satan, and what looked like Daphne from Scooby Doo being shared by Freddy and Shaggy while going going down on a squirting Velma.

A stunned Rob was situated in the middle of the five women—four of them had paired off and were passionately making out, while Holly was again showing off her deep-throating skills.

_Wonder how she convinced them to let her be the one to take care of them,_ Holly briefly wondered, before coughing loudly and getting everyone’s attention.

“Wow.” Rob said flatly, and the miniscule amount of joy that Dakota had felt escaping returned in full force. Throwing her shoulders back, and sticking her flat chest out, she gestured with her thumb.

“Out,” she said, and to her surprise, she was instantly obeyed. Her ability to assert herself had started to surprise even her.

Bending over Rob’s desk, she allowed him to fuck her. Mentally she was feeling better than she’d ever felt in her life—better, she suspected, than anyone had ever felt—but her body was exhausted. She hadn’t rested since the previous night, and so she completely zonked out as a grunting Rob rutted away at her newly-pierced pussy.

“Don’t stop,” she murmured as sleep overtook her. “No matter what…don’t stop.”

When she woke up, it was after lunch. Rob looked like he was trying to get some work done, though through half-closed eyes, she noticed that every few seconds, he couldn’t seem to resisst glancing over at her exposed pussy, and the cum seeping out of it.

“Hey,” she said drowsily, and smiled as Rob’s adoring look of shock sent another wave of pleasure throughout her body. “You stopped?”

“I had to,” he said with a sheepish grin. “After the second time, I remembered that the Greyson account is due today.”

“Fuck it,” Dakota said, sitting up and stretching, enjoying another jolt of pleasure as Rob’s eyes drifted across her petite body. “Get one of the women to take care of that. I want you to cum on my face again…”

He seemed to like that, Dakota noted, as her feeling of joy intensified.

“Baby,” she said, running her hands over her body as she spoke, “I don’t know if you understand. You can do anything you like to me.

“Anything…”

“I really shouldn’t…”

With a smile, Dakota leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

“You see these tattoos? Don’t make the mistake of thinking they’re random. When you came on me last night, it felt so good—I remembered exactly where each drop of cum landed, and I got them permanently etched on my body. I never want to forget what it felt like to have you cum on my face.”

That was a lie—Dakota only cared about Rob coming on her face as much as it seemed to appeal to him—but it didn’t seem to matter. Her words had the desired effect, and she could tell that Rob was close to giving in.

“Come on, baby. Come on me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Dakota could see Holly lurking at the entrance to Rob’s cubicle. A sudden feeling of goodwill came across her, and she decided to throw the other woman a bone.

“And when you’re done…maybe you could tell Holly to lick it off?”

* * *

The weekend was hard. Dakota had made a big show of going home with Rob—it was a clear message of ownership, warning the other women to stay off her turf. But when she left for the hospital early on Saturday morning—after a long night of being fucked in every position imaginable, and then a few hours of taking care of his housework—she knew that there was a risk of someone else swooping in.

_Just until the weekend is over,_ she reminded herself. _After this, I’m never letting him out of my sight again._

The surgery was a simple process. Just like the tattoo artist, the surgeon had expressed some complaints, but Dakota discovered she was able to sweet-talk her way through almost anything. It wasn’t long before he agreed to the implants, and that night, Dakota went home with absurdly large tits, especially when contrasted with her petite frame.

To her surprise, during the entire surgery, her feeling of joy didn’t diminish at all. It wasn’t until the next day, when she was wondering if she even needed to take her first batch of pain medications—the unnatural joy she got from being the attention of Rob’s desires seemed to do the job just fine—that it happened.

“Oh, shit…” she exclaimed. She had no idea what Holly had done, but clearly it was working—suddenly, she was acutely aware of her pain and almost too depressed to lift the bottle of pills.

Her Sunday and Monday continued in the same vein—she’d known going in that the two-day recovery period would be horrible, but she’d figured that it wouldn’t really hit her until she didn’t turn up to work on Monday, and the other women made their moves.

Too depressed to eat, in too much pain to think, and too weak to do anything about it, Dakota barely left her bed until Tuesday morning, when she dragged herself into a flouncy yellow skirt and tank-top that she knew would show off her new D-cup boobs.

“God,” she whimpered as she managed to force a piece of toast down. “I hope this works…”


	Chapter 5: Heather, Brittany, Kelsey (Halloween Costumes)

### Chapter 1:

The girls were speechless for a few seconds when Kelsey brought up the idea.

“Are you kidding?” Heather finally asked, as Brittany resumed filing her nails and staring at Kelsey with one eyebrow raised.

“Hey,” Kelsey said in response, “I didn’t have to cut you guys in on this. But there’s three prizes, so I figure why not share it around?”

“But…Rob?” Heather shook her head in disbelief. “He’s a creep!”

“Exactly,” Kelsey said. “No one can stand him—so no one else from work will be there.”

Brittany leaned in to have a closer look at the flyer. It was inviting them to their workmate’s annual Halloween party that Saturday night—in big bright letters, it proclaimed “PRIZES FOR SEXIEST COSTUME!”

“So what?” Brittany said. “I don’t care how much the prize is. I’ve got plans.”

“Look closer,” Kelsey said, gesturing to the bottom of the invitation, and smiling as Brittany’s eyes widened in shock.

There was a long pause, as the girls processed the information in front of them. The flyer was offering more than ten thousand dollars worth of prizes for “the most erotic costumes”.

“Is this for real?” Heather said, and Kelsey earnestly nodded in response.

The three girls had worked together for almost two years, in a company that was now openly being referred to as a sinking ship, even by its employees. Their three largest clients, who collectively made up more than 60% of the firm’s income, had recently gone bankrupt, and the economic downturn had meant that they were unable to find business to replace them.

Within six months, the vast majority of employees would be terminated, and no one realistically expected the company to survive more than a year.

“You remember when Rob was trying to talk to us about his grandma?”

“I thought that was just an excuse to cry on our boobs…”

“Nope,” Kelsey said. “Turns out the old lady was loaded—he’s a millionaire now, at least. And the party’s apparently going to be pretty great.”

“Yeah, but still…”

Kelsey rolled her eyes at Heather’s hesitancy. She gestured at the young woman’s outfit—Heather was a stunning redhead, who went to the gym daily and didn’t want her efforts to go to waste. That morning, she was dressed in a tight skirt that emphasized her firm butt and long, toned legs. Her ensemble was topped off with a button-up blouse that didn’t show any cleavage, but still accentuated the shape of her pert B-cup breasts.

“Oh come on,” Heather said. “You want to pick on what I’m wearing? Look at Britt!”

Instead of being insulted, Brittany just slowly smiled, and leaned further forward. As the company’s secretary, she often joked that she was the first thing that prospective clients saw, and that she should “put on a good front”. Her dirty-blonde, teased hair was always loose, framing her face and resting gently on her ever-exposed DD cleavage.

When Brittany had started working with Kelsey and Heather, they’d been wary of her showy looks and flirty attitude, but they quickly learned that there was a genuinely sweet and kind girl behind it. And while she wasn’t above showing off her assets and teasing their male co-workers, she never let it go any further than that.

“I could just wear this,” she drawled.

“No,” Kelsey said firmly. “That’s the thing—with these kinds of prizes, everyone is going to be dressing a little bit slutty. If we want the money, we have to go all out…”

* * *

Two days later, Kelsey was pulling up outside Brittany’s house in her car, praying it would last long enough to get them to the party. She looked down at her costume and gulped—the others had asked several times if she was sure she knew what she was doing. She wasn’t, but she’d faked a grin, and nodded in response.

In truth, Kelsey was extraordinarily uncomfortable with any kind of public exposure. She had a nice figure, but had always covered it up at the office—and, truth be told, everywhere else that she went. In high school she’d been a shy and nerdy girl, and she’d never really grown out of it—the idea of showing up to a party dressed like a skank was one of the most terrifying things she could imagine.

But she needed the money. Urgently. As soon as she’d finished high school, the brunette had been accepted into a prestigious graphic design college, and while scholarship had helped with part of the payment, she was now swimming in student loans. She’d never been good with money, and had spent the last five years relying on credit cards—interest had started coming out of her ears, and even with her well-paying job, she was so deep in debt that she could barely even afford to eat.

Kelsey had offered to drive everyone to the party in the hope that her friends would offer to chip in for petrol, so she could use the money to get a decent meal. She had good reason to want the prize money so desperately—it wouldn’t solve her problems, but it would definitely help—and so the normally-conservative dresser had really pulled out all the stops.

On the walk to Brittany’s front door, Kelsey silently prayed that no one was watching. She had no idea how she was going to survive the party long enough to win the prize.

Heather answered Kelsey’s knock—she’d gone around earlier that day to get help with her costume.

“Oh, god…” Kelsey said in response to Heather’s shocked stare. “Is it that bad?”

“Girl…” Heather answered. “I had no idea…you are HOT!”

Kelsey was wearing nothing but a nude-colored body stocking, and had used her artistic skills to draw tattoos all over it. She’d been working with Rob for a few years and felt that she knew his type: a mailbox mix-up six months earlier had revealed that he subscribed to a number of magazines with nude, heavily-tattooed women on the front.

She was covered with lewd words, illustrations of graphic sex acts, and the most perverted images she could think of. Her arms were covered in spiderwebs, dripping with what she hoped would be interpreted not as dew, but droplets of cum—to emphasize the imagery, the spiders that covered her thin arms were creatively-drawn cocks with legs. On her chest were interracial couples in various sexual positions—her nipples were covered with the blonde white girl getting a facial, and a black girl taking it up the ass from a huge, muscular white man.

Her back was covered with one huge art-work: a naked demon priestess, oozing cum out of every orifice. Her naked red breasts were pierced, a black bar through each nipple, and she was reaching down to spread her pussy-lips, a hungry look on her face.

Kelsey’s legs were lined with drawings of hard cocks, spurting their seed triumphantly. On each foot was an image of a woman, naked except her high heels, and on her ass was a sailor princess flashing her butt to anyone who would see.

To top it all off, on each of her nipples, her belly button and her pussy, she’d drawn a piercing, using a 3D effect that she was quite proud of, and on her head Kelsey was wearing a bald-cap, also covered in lewd tattoos. Except for her face, every inch of Kelsey’s body was covered in the most offensive and sexual tattoos she could imagine.

Heather’s comment was not referring to Kelsey’s tattoos, however, but the girl’s figure—Heather had never seen her workmate in anything more revealing than a thick woolen sweater, and for the first time she realized that Kelsey was just as fit as the two girls that she called friends.

_I might actually have some competition for this thing,_ she thought, before inviting Kelsey inside.

“Where’s yours?” Kelsey asked, and Heather laughed.

“Just putting the last touches on it now. Hey, can you help me with my make-up? Yours is fantastic.”

“Of course.”

Kelsey had covered her face in the heaviest, sluttiest make-up she could manage. Normally not one to wear more than a dab of concealer, she’d had to spend almost an hour online, watching tutorials.

“Kelsey!” Brittany squealed as the two entered the room, and now it was Kelsey’s turn to gawk.

The receptionist had really taken the suggestion to “go all out” onboard. She towered over the graphic designer, having forced her feet into six-inch heels. Her skirt was so short that with every step, her ass-cheeks were exposed to anyone standing behind her, and her legs were covered with the criss-cross of fishnet stockings.

Her top half, however, was what had drawn Kelsey’s attention. Brittany was obviously not wearing a bra, and had a white T-shirt on so tightly that her nipples were clearly visible. On the front, in big back letters, was written “Gangbang Queen”—though it was hard to read, as the entire front of the T-shirt—and Brittany’s face—was coated in what looked like cum.

“Jesus, Britt…” Kelsey said, her eyes boggling.

“You like?” Brittany said with a grin. Kelsey had known that her friend had slight exhibitionist tendencies, but she hadn’t expected something as extreme as this… _Of course,_ she reflected, _considering what I’m wearing, who am I to judge?_

“I figure when the company starts downsizing, the receptionist isn’t going to be a high priority—I might as well make money while I can, right?”

“I guess…” Kelsey replied, suddenly regretting her decision to invite her friends to the party. She’d expected to be a shoe-in for the prize, but even though Kelsey had no interest in women, even she couldn’t take her eyes off Britt’s chest.

“Besides,” Brittany said with a cheeky grin, “I’ve had this shirt forever and never had a chance to wear it before. Check it out!”

Brittany did a spin—an impressive feat, considering her heels—and Kelsey read the back of the shirt—“Cumslut”.

She threw a look at Heather, who rolled her eyes and smiled.

“She’s kidding. We made the shirt today.”

“And the…”

“It’s icing sugar,” Brittany said, scraping a tiny part out and moving it to her mouth with a smile. “The heels are mine though, and I really never do get to wear them. We just finished Heather’s costume—you’re never going to believe it.”

“I’m sure I won’t,” Kelsey replied.

* * *

Kelsey’s chances of winning the prize seemed to move even further away as she helped Heather get ready. The saleswoman, counting on none of her other workmates being there, had pushed the limits as far as she was able. To compensate for her relatively small breasts, she’d made a fake pair that were bigger than her head, and looked even larger on her fit frame.

Underneath her dress, she was wearing a pair of latex shorts, with a photo crudely attached to the front and back. Whenever she lifted up her dress, it looked as though she was exposing herself—but instead of a normal set of genitals, the photos were of stretched, gaping orifices—an already-wide pussy that she’d photoshopped to look as though you could drive a car through, complete with pussy-rings. Similarly, on her ass she wore a photo of a asshole that looked like it had taken an entire midget inside of it.

If you stared at it for too long it was obviously a photo, but as long as Heather never let anyone see the images for more than a second, it appeared that she was the ultimate size-queen.

“I considered making a shirt saying “I like ’em big”, but I didn’t want steal Brittany’s schtick, y’know?”

“Uh huh,” Kelsey replied, carefully adding the last of Heather’s make-up. “Okay, you’re all done.”

“This is the last one,” Brittany said, moving her mouth back to the over-sized blow-up dildo. Heather picked up the other six enormous fake dildos and butt-plugs laying around the floor, and put them in a basket.

“Let’s go!”

As the three moved toward the door, Brittany added the final touch to her outfit—a SLUT choker—and the trio were soon in Kelsey’s car, on their way to the party..

“I’ve got to ask,” Kelsey to Brittany, the blonde’s skirt riding up so high that it exposed her underwear. “Where did you get that skirt?”

“What are you talking about?” Brittany replied, a confused look upon her face. “This is just my clubbing outfit…”

* * *

The drive to the party started awkwardly, as each of the girls suddenly became aware of the outfits that they were wearing in public. Soon, though, they began to gossip about their management’s latest terrible decisions, and the rumours flying around that they might not even have their jobs for six more weeks, let alone six more months, and as they were reminded of why they were doing what they were doing, they relaxed and began to look forward to the party.

### Chapter 2:

A look of awe spread across the faces of all three girls as they entered the party. Rob really had spared no expense—the room was well-decorated, there was Halloween-themed finger-food everywhere, and he’d even splashed out for an open bar. If she wasn’t dressed as a grotesque parody of a sexual fetish she found repugnant, Kelsey may have even been able to enjoy herself.

But she’d volunteered to drive, so couldn’t even get drunk.

“Well,” Brittany said, clearly unperturbed by the stares she was getting for her slutty outfit, “we’re here! May as well enjoy ourselves!”

“You go on ahead,” Heather said. “I’m going to hang back with Kels for a while.”

As the bubbly blonde bounced her way into the party, Heather turned to Kelsey.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Kelsey replied, forcing a grin onto her face. “Just a bit—well, y’know.”

“Shy?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause, as the two girls watched the throbbing mass of bodies in front of them, occasionally spotting Brittany’s blonde hair popping up above the crowd.

“Do you think I went overboard?” Kelsey suddenly asked, and Heather shook her head.

“Look at me,” she said, flashing Kelsey and getting a laugh in response. “Besides, check out the competition—one of us is a shoe-in. That money is as good as ours.”

Heather was right. The party was full of sexy nurses, teachers, students, cat-girls…even a few whores, bimbos and Playboy Bunnies. But no one had gone to the efforts of Kelsey and her co-workers, and their extreme outfits were even earning them a few dirty looks.

Kelsey relaxed slightly, and Heather put her arm around her.

“You look great, seriously. Have you ever considered getting inked for real?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Kelsey answered. “But I’m terrified of needles. Oh, god…”

The graphic designer went white as a familiar face approached, a huge grin on his face.

“Heather! Kathy! You made it!!”

“It’s Kelsey,” she murmured in response, but the music was too loud for Rob to hear her.

“These costumes…wow. Just…wow. You guys are…yeah, there’s no other word for it: wow.”

“Brittany’s here too,” Heather replied, as coolly as she could.

“Yeah I saw! Good to see that she’s finally embracing her true self, hey Kathy?” Rob said with a broad wink.

“When are the prizes being announced?”

“At midnight, of course! Check out the trophies—I got them from this cool occult store downtown!”

Kelsey looked at where Rob was pointing, and saw three trophies standing on a pedestal in the centre of the room. The way the disco light shone onto them gave them a strange glow, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, a chill ran down her back at the sight of them.

“Wow,” she said flatly in response, getting another laugh out of Rob.

“Anyway, I’ll see you guys later! Enjoy the party!”

* * *

For Kelsey, the two hours she had to wait until midnight seemed to last a thousand years. Worst of all, while she’d been correct in her prediction that no other females from the office would be there, she hadn’t realized that a party with free booze and “prizes for most erotic costume” would be a beacon to the males in her office.

Within the first half-hour, she managed to narrowly avoid being seen by five different co-workers. Unfortunately, after that, Brittany came to find her—and Brittany had no compunctions about being spotted.

“Kels!” she cried out from across the room. “Look who’s here! It’s Mark from accounting!”

“Kelsey??” Mark said, staring at her in shock. “Kelsey…is that really you??”

“Hi Mark,” Kelsey said, avoiding eye contact. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, I…wow. Can I get you a drink?”

“It’s an open bar,” Kelsey said flatly.

“I’ll take one! Just a beer, thanks Mark,” Brittany interrupted, and grinned through her mock-cum at Kelsey. “Always let them buy you a drink, even if it’s free—it’s habit-forming.”

“I thought you didn’t date co-workers.”

“I don’t…that doesn’t mean I don’t let them buy me drinks. I haven’t paid for a drink in over a year now.”

Mark returned and accepted Brittany’s offer to dance, leaving Kelsey alone with the finger-food once more. Her skull-cap was itchy, her legs were tired, and her co-workers hadn’t offered to chip in for petrol, so she leaned on the table and ate as many of the snacks as she could stomach. Finally midnight rolled around, and a clearly inebriated Rob stood up to announce the winners.

“First of all,” he slurred, “I want to have everyone for coming. We should thank one of these every year!”

The crowd was, on average, just as drunk as Rob, and they cheered at the suggestion, growing silent once more as he prepared to read out the winners.

“In third place, for creativity, boldness and being fucking sexy, it’s my dear friend and co-worker…Heather!”

The girls had reconvened near the stage, in preparation for the prizes that they knew were theirs. Kelsey and Brittany congratulated Heather as she got pulled up on-stage by Rob, who handed her the mike.

“Free dildos for everyone!” she cried, throwing her basket of inflatables into the crowd. Heather wasn’t the most drunk person there, but she certainly wasn’t dragging down the average.

As Heather clutched the trophy to her chest, a strange sense of unease came across Kelsey once more. A part of her wanted to shout out a warning, to say “don’t touch it!”, but the rational side of her brain silenced the impulse, and she listened closely as Rob announced second place.

“This one was tricky, I’m not going to lie. But she let me taste it and it was delicious and so I’m giving her second place! Brittany!!”

Brittany managed to stumble her way on-stage, and gave Rob a big kiss as a thanks—this would normally have been incredibly out of character for Britt, but as she pulled away, Kelsey had to work to stifle a laugh—Rob’s face looked like it was covered in dried semen, and he was too drunk to notice.

She was so busy staring at the amusing sight that she almost missed what Rob said next.

“Kathy! Is Kathy here?”

Kelsey was tired and cranky and disappointed, and if Heather hadn’t leaned over to correct the host of the party, she may not have registered that she, in fact, was the “Kathy” that Rob was referring to.

“Kelsey!” Rob corrected with a hiccup, and Kelsey walked on-stage to collect her prize, a huge grin on her face.

* * *

The next morning, Kelsey awoke with a spring in her step. It wasn’t only the fact that she was many thousands of dollars richer, it was something else, something indefinable. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d come up with a plan, followed through, and it had paid off. Perhaps it was the cheers from the crowd as she’d stood up to collect her trophy. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d worn slutty outfits for a whole night—in front of at least a dozen people she knew—and lived to tell the tale.

Not, of course, that it was a tale she’d ever be telling.

As she looked around the room, she almost jumped at the sight of her trophy. She didn’t know why it gave her the creeps, still, but it did. Even now, gleaming in the morning light, something about it didn’t seem right.

She wanted to throw it out and never look at it again, but she forced herself to quash the instinct. If she’d been listening to her fears she never would have dressed up, gone to the party, and won the better part of ten thousand dollars. The pile of cash was sitting on the chair next to the trophy, and Kelsey looked at it and smiled.

Sure, the majority of it would have to go to paying off debt, but she could afford to treat herself, just a little. What could she do to reward herself for her bravery?

A tattoo. The idea popped into her brain with such immediate clarity and conviction that she was dressed and on her way to the tattoo parlor before she even questioned it. Yes, a tattoo—she’d always wanted one, and if last night had taught her anything, it was that overcoming fears could lead to great rewards.

She was going to get a tattoo. And to commemorate last night, she was going to get a slutty one.

* * *

Across town, at the same time that Kelsey was stepping into the tattoo parlor, Brittany was waking up to an unusual sight: there was a strange man in her bed. She didn’t normally go home with people, especially not someone she didn’t know, but apparently the drinks and the thrill of having won had gone to her head, and so the blonde had broken her own rule and had a one-night stand.

_Not a bad-looking one, either,_ she mused. _Maybe that’s a rule that needs to be broken more often…_

Sunday morning meant church, and so Brittany got up without waking her houseguest, got dressed, and left the house. She was almost out the door before she remembered to attach a note for the stranger, taping it to the trophy that sat next to her bed, glowing slightly.

* * *

Unlike her two co-workers, Heather didn’t leap out of bed on that Sunday morning. She woke up full of energy, just as Brittany and Kelsey had, but instead of getting up and putting that energy toward something productive, she decided to reward herself with a lay-in. She’d only won a bit over a thousand dollars, but—she told herself—that wasn’t too bad for a night’s work.

She glanced over at her prize and wondered what she was going to do with the ugly thing. She’d never been much for competitive sports, and so there wasn’t a cabinet or trophy-room it could be added to. Until she found a place for it, she supposed she’d have to just leave it there, beside the bed.

Glimpses of the party came back to her—how drunk had she gotten? She remembered Kelsey driving them home, exuberant about her win, but most of the night was a blur…

As she pondered, she noticed that her right hand had drifted to her pussy, and was slowly stroking up and down her sensitive lips.

_Well,_ she thought to herself, _I’ve got no other plans for the morning…_

Five hours and six powerful orgasms later, Heather finally got out of bed. She got herself a glass of water, and returned for another play-session.

### Chapter 3:

### Monday:

As Kelsey walked into work the next day, she was met with raised eyebrows and huge smiles.

The raised eyebrows were from those who hadn’t been at the party. They were wondering what small, shy Kelsey was doing, walking so confidently, dressed uncharacteristically in such a a short skirt. The huge smiles were from the men who had seen her faux-naked, and welcomed any change in her wardrobe that brought her closer to that state.

It wasn’t until lunch, however, when she got a chance to sit down and spend time with her two best friends that Kelsey was truly able to show off.

“Wow!” Brittany said, huge smile upon her face.

“Really?” Heather asked, her eyebrows conveying her disapproval.

“Oh come on,” Brittany said, playfully slapping Heather on the arm. “Don’t be like that—it’s about time that Kelsey loosened up a bit! I think this is a good start!”

The two girls were reacting to their workmate’s new tattoo—the one she had shown them, anyway. Once she had reached the tattoo parlor and discovered that they had a two-for-one deal for tattoos above a certain price, she’d been unable to resist the temptation of spending the entire fistful of cash she’d hastily grabbed on the way out.

A pair of new tattoos later, she was walking out of the small shop with a smile on her face and a new confidence in her stride. On her left ankle she’d gotten a simple tattoo of a balloon—she’d wanted something simple and playful, something she wouldn’t be ashamed to show her friends.

Something to contrast her other tattoo.

It was the balloon that Brittany was gushing over, while Heather made her reservations clear. Kelsey wasn’t sure how they’d react if they saw the pair of boobs she’d gotten tattooed on her lower back.

She wasn’t even sure why she’d done it—Kelsey wasn’t a boob girl particularly, and whenever she’d imagined getting tattoos, it had never been something so crude, so…silly.

That was it. It was silly. She enjoyed the humor of it, but more than that…the fact that it was so out-of-character. Getting a tattoo at all made her feel free, like she was someone else—getting one of a pair of tits? That just proved that she wasn’t boxed into her life as a graphic designer at a failing company.

She was more than that, she was free. It made her forget that she was swimming in debt…it told her that she could do whatever she wanted.

In fact, she might even get another. Soon.

* * *

Once lunch was over, and the girls made their way back to their various workstations, Heather breathed a huge sigh of relief. She was fairly sure she’d managed to hide it from her workmates—she’d perhaps been a bit harsher than necessary on poor Kelsey, but honestly, Heather had welcomed the distraction.

Ever since she’d arrived at work that morning, she’d just felt so…horny.

It was just an after-effect from the day before, she told herself. Uncharacteristically, Heather had stayed in bed all day—from shortly after she’d wokem up, right through until she’d drifted back to sleep that night, Heather had only gotten up for food and to go to the toilet.

The rest of the time, she’d been masturbating.

It had been fun, Heather was forced to admit. It was so unlike her—she’d always had a strong sex-drive, but she never had _time_ to indulge herself like that.

Yes, that was it. It was an indulgence. And when was the last time she’d had one of those? She’d been battling with guilt all morning—she’d promised her neighbor that she’d pop around and help out with her garden, she’d taken some work home with her over the weekend, and her house was a mess.

But sometimes, you just needed to treat yourself, and that was all it had been. A lovely, relaxing weekend—a party, a few more drinks than were strictly necessary, a bit of prize money, and then a day of self-pleasure. It was out of her system now, and she could go back to being her normal go-getter self.

So why was she still so turned on?

All day Heather had felt like she was battling her own hormones. It wasn’t anything in particular—there were no guys in the office that Heather was particularly attracted to (no women either, for that matter) and her computer monitor had shown nothing more erotic than a spreadsheet all day. Other than a few calls to clients, there had been nothing particularly out of the ordinary about Heather’s day, certainly nothing erotic, and there was no reason for her to want to get off that one last time.

_One last time…_

The idea was so tempting that Heather decided that the best thing to do, to clear her head, would be simply to head into the ladies’ bathroom, get herself off, and return to work energized and ready to go.

_I wish I had a toy here,_ she thought as she slipped into her work’s restroom. _But I suppose fingers will have to do…_

* * *

Jerry smiled broadly at Brittany as he left for the day. He was half in love with their bombshell of a receptionist—every man in the building was—but there was something particularly appealing about her that day. Her smile seemed wider, her skirt seemed tighter, her top seemed even more low-cut…

No, that wasn’t it. It was her attitude. She was always bubbly and personable—it was what Brittany was known for. But today she somehow seemed extra friendly, extra chirpy.

“I’m here to please,” her body seemed to be screaming—Jerry could have sworn she was pushing her chest forward slightly, trying to emphasize her (already impressive) cleavage, but he didn’t want to stare.

“Good night, Brittany,” he said as he left.

“Good night, sir,” she replied, and something about the way she purred the last word had him erect before he could even hit the back door.

* * *

### Tuesday:

_This is wrong_ , Heather told herself. _I shouldn’t be doing this…not at work._

The thought ran through her mind again and again, but it somehow just managed to add to the heat she felt between her legs. After jilling off in the bathroom the day before, she’d barely managed to get through the rest of the day. Finally, knocking off time arrived, and she all but ran home, collapsed straight onto her bed, and got herself off over and over and over again before falling into a blissful sleep.

She’d had a date, the saleswoman remembered the next morning. She’d been looking forward to it for a week—Tim, his name was, or Tom. Something short. But she’d been so obsessed by the idea of getting home and getting her favorite vibrator between her legs, she’d completely blanked on seeing…was it Todd?…until she’d noticed three missed calls and two messages on her phone.

A second date was looking unlikely, but that was okay. _Who needs men,_ she told herself, _when you’ve got friends like these?_

As she was leaving for work, she’d fished one of her smallest sex toys out of the trophy (where it had somehow landed after Sunday’s session) and then—completely on impulse—slipped it into her work bag.

The idea of sneaking into the bathroom again consumed her, and it was all she could think about during her commute. _So naughty,_ she told herself— _so deliciously wicked._

Once Heather arrived at work, she’d made small talk with her supervisor, and then fled to the bathroom, plunging her tiny toy deep into her wetness, and rubbing at her nipples with her other hand.

_Oh god,_ she thought as an orgasm swept her body. _This is so wrong…_

_I’ve got to do this again some time._

* * *

As Heather left the ladies’ room, her route back to her desk brought her past reception. Brittany didn’t notice, however—one of the young interns was at her desk, and she was flirting outrageously with him.

_Typical Brittany,_ Heather thought with a smile, enjoying her post-orgasm glow. _She doesn’t even mind that he hasn’t looked at her face once…_

* * *

### Wednesday:

Kelsey arrived at work an hour late, and threw an apologetic glance at Brittany as she entered the room.

“Don’t worry about it girl,” Brittany said, casually tossing her long blonde hair behind her. “I covered for you—where’ve you been?”

“I got another tattoo,” Kelsey said proudly. A week ago, she would have blushed and stared at the floor as she did, but she found the process of getting inked to be surprisingly empowering. After getting dressed that morning, she’d caught a glimpse of her reflection in the creepy trophy that she still hadn’t had a chance to get rid of.

_What am I wearing?_ she’d asked herself, and resolved to go clothes shopping that night. The clothes she was wearing were that of a timid, shrinking violet. They weren’t representative of the new Kelsey, the Kelsey who wasn’t afraid to dress however she liked.

The Kelsey who wasn’t afraid of her own turn-ons.

As she’d gone to the tattoo parlor that morning, she made a small confession to herself—her new tattoos were…hot. They made her feel sexy. The feeling had been there, simmering under the surface since she’d first gotten the pair of boobs, but she’d been unable to admit it even to herself.

They were more than just hot. They turned her on. There was just something so deeply erotic about looking down at her skin, and seeing a lewd tattoo. It was affecting her more than she’d like to admit, but as she’d looked at herself in her rear-view mirror, she’d vowed not to be afraid of it.

In fact, that morning, she’d gotten another two tattoos—one that she could show people, and one that was just for her. One for her friends to see, and one for her to think about when she played with herself. She didn’t know why it was so sexy to see the ink, know that it was a permanent mark on her body, but it was.

“No way!” Brittany said with a huge grin. “I guess it’s true what they say—you can’t just stop at one! Can I see?”

“Of course,” Kelsey said, and rolled up her sleeve. On her right shoulder she’d gotten a mermaid—now that she looked at it, it faintly resembled Brittany, with its long hair and prominent bust. She didn’t show her friend the matching tattoo on her left shoulder—it, too, was a mermaid, but this one was topless, proudly positioned to emphasize its enormous chest and erect nipples.

“Wow!” Brittany said. “I might have to get one myself. What’s the name of your guy?”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll write it down,” Kelsey replied, suddenly flustered. If Brittany went to her tattoo artist, he might mention something about her secret tattoos, and they were just for her.

As Heather began to approach, Kelsey hastily covered her arm up. She didn’t want her new feeling of power to be diminished by a cruel comment or two, and Heather wasn’t one to hold her tongue. A part of her hated her fear, but she knew that change took time.

Kelsey’s surge of fear was for nothing, however—the saleswoman didn’t stop, just flashed her friends a huge grin and continued walking.

“Is she okay?” Kelsey asked, and Brittany just shrugged.

“I think she’s coming down with something—that’s the third time I’ve seen her leave the restroom today, and it’s not even ten thirty yet.”

* * *

### Thursday:

The next day, Brittany was too distracted to keep a count of Heather’s toilet visits. She didn’t even notice when Kelsey walked in, wearing a skirt almost as short as Brittany’s and a form-fitting sweater that jiggled as she walked. Kelsey’s shyness had completely disappeared, and she was taking full advantage of it.

No, Brittany’s attention was on the men in the office. So many men! Brittany had always enjoyed the company of males—Kelsey and Heather were two of the first truly close female friends she’d had—but her religious upbringing had meant that she’d never let herself go any further than teasing, unless of course she knew it was serious.

And this week, she’d spontaneously decided to take teasing to a new level. After waking up with company on Sunday morning, and listening to a particularly moving sermon about using the gifts that God gives you, Brittany had resolved to do exactly that.

Her best assets were her looks, she knew. She’d always known that. And sure, perhaps the company was going under and there was nothing she could do about…on the other hand, perhaps there was.

Brittany had never been the smartest book on the shelf, but it had never bothered her—bring bright and bubbly were her strengths, and after spending Sunday night musing about what she could do to best make use of her talents, she’d decided to go ahead and play to her strengths.

Her company had a huge motivation problem, that was obvious. And it was her job to be the face of the company—but she could do more than that, she could work on lifting spirits from within.

And so she had.

Any time a man was within a few feet of her, Brittany made sure that there was a smile on his face, and ample eye-candy for him to look at. Her skirt-hems had grown higher, her cleavage had—against all odds—gotten more prominent, and she considered it a personal challenge to cause a visible erection on every man she came into contact with.

Her efforts had worked, but an unexpected side-effect had occurred. The more attention she got from the men of her office, the more she enjoyed it…craved it, even. Thursday morning was the start of a big conference—one of the few efforts the company had left to pull itself out of the hole and get more clients—and most of the office was out.

For the first time since starting her new project, Brittany wasn’t surrounded by men. She hadn’t expected to miss the constant attention, but she did, and the feeling had put her in a real funk.

She filled her morning with busywork, and decorating her desk—she’d decided earlier in the week to brighten up her workspace as well, and had even brought in the trophy she’d won at the Halloween party. She was just putting it on a shelf behind her, trying to work out whether it dominated the space too much, when the sound of the company intern’s voice behind her made her smile with joy.

“Eli!” she said, putting so much enthusiasm into her greeting that he blinked twice and stepped backwards in shock.

“Uh, yes,” he stammered. “Hi. I, uh, was just…”

The sight of documents in his hand made it obvious what Eli was after, and Brittany shot her widest grin at him.

“Can’t get the copy machine to work?”

“No,” he replied. “I, uh, you…”

“Here,” she said, stalking towards him. “Let me show you.”

* * *

Alone in the copy room with Eli, Brittany’s heart was racing. She didn’t know why—she’d known the boy for almost two months now, and she’d never reacted like this before. He was just so cute…so young…

There was something about the way that he stared at her breasts while talking to her that just got her so hot and bothered. He could barely get a few words out without blushing, and from the second she walked into the building each morning, she knew he was hard.

So hard. So hard…for her…

It must be frustrating, she pondered, not even aware that she was now blatantly staring at his pants. Being hard all day, no one to relieve the tension…it must be so…demoralizing.

And to think, she was the one who had caused it. Here she was, trying to motivate the office, and all she was doing was getting them all hot and bothered, cocks hard, no way to take care of it…

With one smooth movement, Brittany closed the copy room door, got down on her knees, and unbuckled Eli’s pants.

“Let me take care of this for you,” she asked, but he just responded by widening his eyes so far they threatened to bulge out of his head.

“Please…” she said, in her sultry voice of silk, and when Eli nodded frantically in response, Brittany smiled, and moved her mouth over his cock.

### Chapter 4:

_This is too much,_ Heather told herself as she added three more toys to her bag. It now consisted of more sex toys than anything else, but she figured that wasn’t worth worrying about—after all, she was hardly getting anything done any more, at work OR at home. All of her spare time was spent masturbating, and more than half of her time at work was spent doing the same.

_This is too much,_ Kelsey told herself as she sketched out her latest tattoo idea. The parlor had told her that they were ending the 2-for-1 discount, and so she wanted to make the most of it while she could. The piece of paper in front of her held the image of an Elven Princess, naked and on all fours, positioned in such a way to draw attention to her smoothly-shaved pussy. Something about the lewd emphasis of the fictional creature’s genitals turned Kelsey on, and her hand had slipped between her legs as she’d been drawing.

_This is too much,_ Brittany told herself, as she bounced up and down on Eli’s cock. After pleasuring him in the copy room, he’d kept staring at her all day, and on a whim she’d invited him home with her. They’d been inseparable since then, which knew was simply unprofessional. Work should stay at work…of course, she told herself, getting it out of his system would mean that he could stop staring at her all day and focus on the tasks at hand…

_This is too much,_ the three women thought simultaneously…but not one of them showed any sign of slowing down.

### Friday:

Brittany arrived to work late. She had tried to insist that Eli come in separately, but then she’d noticed his erection and gotten distracted. Fifteen seconds later, she was bent over the kitchen table as he repeatedly pounded into her ass, and by the time they were done they didn’t have time to do anything but bolt to the car and get to work as quickly as possible.

One of Brittany’s jobs was to open the building up in the morning, but she was delighted to discover that it had already been done when she got there—as she entered in a fluster, she found Kelsey standing next to her desk, a friendly grin on her face.

“Let’s call it quits,” she said, waving off Brittany’s thanks. The two chatted briefly, Kelsey showed off her latest “safe” tattoo—a naked lady from the back, bending over and lightly spanking herself—and failed to notice Brittany’s somewhat bewildered reaction.

Before Kelsey could draw attention to her knuckles, their conversation was interrupted once more by Heather’s approaching grin. She practically floated around the office these days, as if sitting on a happy cloud.

No one had noticed the slight changes to Heather’s gait—while using toys to penetrate both her holes in the restroom stall the previous day, she’d been hit with the idea of not taking them out when she was done.

Her panties ensured that they didn’t just slip out, but the feeling of constant penetration made her wetter than she could ever remember being, and with a slight adjustment to her walk, she was occasionally hit with a wave of pleasure.

Walking slightly strangely had become the new norm for Kelsey, and as well as the constant after-glow her toys were providing, she was now experience occasional orgasms from just sitting at her desk, or walking from one end of the office to the other.

“Is she okay?” Kelsey asked, but her query fell on deaf ears—a man had approached Brittany’s desk, and she suddenly didn’t have time for anyone else.

“Yes, Jerry?” Brittany asked, the new shade of lipstick she’d put on that morning accentuating her smile even more than usual. “How’s the conference going?”

“Oh, it’s brutal. Everyone’s exhausted…still, only two days left to go. I’ll tell you what, we could use a friendly face like yours there.”

“Oh really?” Brittany asked, an idea ticking over in her brain. “Here, let me walk you to your office—there’s something I want to discuss with you…”

* * *

As soon as she was alone in her cubicle, Kelsey rolled up her skirt to look at her new tattoo once more. It was beautifully subtle—she’d gotten a seamline tattooed down her left leg. At a glance, it just looked like she was wearing stockings, but in fact her legs were bare.

Kelsey was enjoying wearing bare legs to the office. The only disadvantage was that it added another place where she couldn’t get tattoos, and she was starting to feel overly limited in that regard already. Each night, Kelsey went home and sat on her bed, designing new tattoos that she wanted. Without her consciously noticing, they’d begun to grow more and more lewd—cunts filled with cum, busty women with a cock in each hole, nipples squirting milk and rude words written across tits.

The more she thought about her tattoos, the more turned on she got, and the more turned on she got, the more erotically-themed her sketches grew…

The idea of all her workmates staring at her, the shock that they’d get at seeing the ink that she was covered with…every time she so much as glanced at one of her tattoos, Kelsey got wet. She found the idea of her body becoming a lewd, obscene canvas so _hot_ , and after a particularly shocked stare, or a raised eyebrow, Kelsey’s knees would get weak with arousal.

She’d become obsessed with her tattoos having an overarching motif, and (inspired by the solitary balloon that still sat on her ankle) decided to go with a circus/carnival theme. Female lion-tamers, being roughly taken by their lions…curvy clowns being spanked by rough ringmasters…above her pussy, she intended to get the word “FUNHOUSE” written in curvy circus script.

Next to her bed, as she drew, sat the trophy. Beside it was the ever-dwindling pile of money. Her debts hadn’t abated—so far all the money she’d won from Rob’s party had gone to paying her tattoo artist.

It was impossible, she knew, to get every tattoo that she wanted _and_ hide it from her co-workers. So the night before, she’d added a pair of knuckle tatts—one reading “BORN”, and one reading “FREE”. They were simple, inoffensive, and would serve as a barometer to see if anyone at work minded her showing up inked.

She liked the idea of people seeing them. They were art, after all, and they represented the new her. She liked that—people would see the _real_ her. Not the Kelsey she’d hidden beneath clothes for all these years, shy and nervous and afraid to live.

No, she wanted to show everyone who she really was.

* * *

### Saturday:

Heather woke up with a huge smile on her face, and dildos sticking out of her front and rear. She’d been looking forward to this all week—two days where she could do nothing but lay around playing with herself. Two days where she didn’t have to worry about co-workers, or being interrupted, or getting caught. Two days where she didn’t have to think about anything but herself.

Her glee began to fade, however, as she began slowly pumping the toys in and out. Something had changed. Her desire was still there—she wanted to get off, more than anything…every fibre of her being craved the feeling of fullness that she’d recently managed to get only from her toys, but for the first time, they weren’t providing it.

They were…unsatisfying, somehow. The room was filled with the wet sound of her toys pumping in and out, but where the squelching sound would normally be accompanied by her moans, instead they were met with silence.

In frustration, Heather withdrew her toys and threw them across the room. A dull “clang” sounded as they bounced off her trophy, and her eyes widened as she suddenly realized what the problem was.

She wasn’t feeling fulfilled, because she wasn’t feeling full. The solution was obvious:

Bigger toys.

* * *

Every eye in the conference turned as Brittany click-clacked her way down the hall. Part of it was her ensemble—she wore a short, tight, black skirt, and a blouse to match. The four top buttons were undone, showing off the peaks of her breasts, and a sizable portion of her pink push-up bra as well.

Her long blonde hair flowed down her back, and legs were covered with fishnet stockings. On her feet were six-inch heels, and with every step, her ass swished back and forth. She’d finally managed to convince Heather to share the details of her tattoo artist, and on her left tit a small arrow could be seen, while her right arm was freshly inked with the company’s logo.

But what really caught the attendee’s eyes was the look on her face. She was wearing thick eye-liner, ruby-red lipstick to accentuate her (naturally large) lips, and the sultry, determined look on her face told everyone what she was there for.

She was there to make men happy.

After Jerry had cum in her mouth once and pussy twice the previous day, he’d agreed that she would provide a real burst of motivation to the rest of the team, and so Brittany marched down the hall until she found the company’s booth.

“Brittany!” Rob greeted her. She just smiled, beckoned for him to follow, and without a word he did.

She’d scoped the area out, and found an unused supply closet—normally full of chairs, for her purposes it would do perfectly. No sooner did Rob enter than her lips were upon his, her hands urgently unbuckling his pants, and rejoicing when they found his hard cock.

“Touch me,” she moaned. “I want to make you happy…”

“Okay,” Rob obliged, and for the next twenty minutes, she showed him just how much pleasure she could provide.

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” the tattoo artist asked. Kelsey had just handed him almost four thousand dollars in cash.

“Please,” she said with a smile. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

It was true. She’d woken up that morning with conviction in her heart. She was a free spirit, and nothing could stand in her way.

After waking up, she’d done some housecleaning. Any piece of clothing that the “old” Kelsey would have worn was the first thing to go, and then she’d gone to throw out the trophy…but found herself somehow unable to. Any time she approached it, she’d see the tattoos adorning her naked body, and Kelsey found herself stopping to play with herself instead.

Her body was obscene. Her body was porn, more so than any other female body. Anyone looking at her nude form would see how disgusting, how _wrong_ her tattoos were…

She loved it.

Kelsey’s eyes rolled back with excitement each time she tried to dispose of the trophy, images running through her head of standing naked in an art gallery, having thousands of people take pictures of her tattoos. She fell back on her bed, thrust her fingers into her hungry cunt, and got off at the idea of how perverse her skin was.

And so the trophy stayed.

Instead of disposing of it, Kelsey had taken the pile of cash, all of her sketches, and gone straight to the tattoo parlor.

“All of it,” she said. “I want it all.”

“I’m not sure if this will cover _all_ of this,” her artist asked, and she threw him a credit card—the last one that she knew she could still put money on.

“Whatever that doesn’t cover, put on this.”

She had some more shopping to do—she wanted short skirts, tube tops, anything that would show off her body. No, it wasn’t really her body any more—it was a piece of controversial art, and she wanted the whole world to see it. No one at work had commented on her knuckle tattoos yesterday, and that was all the permission she needed.

Kelsey was going to be a walking, talking work of art, and she couldn’t wait. The idea of the shocked stares she’d soon receive made her wet in anticipation.

“Okay,” the man shrugged, getting ready for the first piece—an extension of her stocking seams to make a full garter belt. “If this is what you really want…”

### Chapter 5:

### Chapter 5—Sunday:

As soon as Heather appeared to post bail, Kelsey headed straight back to the tattoo parlor.

“Thanks for fetching me,” she said. “But if I don’t get there soon, I won’t be able to get everything finished today…and I need it. I really do.”

“Wait!” Heather tried to call after her, but as Kelsey left, she shrugged. She wasn’t going to turn down the ability to go straight back to bed and continue testing her new purchases.

Heather had practically cleared out the adult store—she’d used all of her prize money and more, collecting the largest toys she could find. She hadn’t been able to wait until she took them home, opening one in the store and asking to use the bathroom.

“I guess…” the pierced girl behind the counter had said doubtfully, obviously unable to believe that someone as respectable-looking as Heather would ever take their largest dildo to the bathroom and test it out.

She’d been so turned on at the sight of it—nine inches long, with a six-inch circumference. It didn’t even make sense that a girl Heather’s size would be able to use such a monster, but she’d managed to insert it with only the smallest amount of pain.

As it began to enter her, it was like a flood had been released—it had been almost twelve hours since she’d last cum, a number so high that felt like an impossible nightmare. The dam was broken, and she began to scream out in pleasure, cumming over and over again, until after almost fifteen minutes of pure pleasure, she noticed that the shop-girl was rapping at the restroom door.

“Miss?” she was asking, “are you alright??”

“I’m fiiiine,” Heather had replied with a long sigh. “Oh, I’m so good.”

There was a pause.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, sweetie,” Heather responded, her eyes rolling back in her head with pleasure. “Oh, hon—just one question. Where did you get your piercings done?”

* * *

Brittany staggered out of the hotel bedroom, her legs bow-legged and every inch of her covered in cum. She’d pleasured each of the company men at the stall, and word had started to get around. The idea of limiting her stress relief to her direct colleagues seemed cruel, somehow, and so she’d offered a deal—anyone who did business with her company would get a chance to enjoy her unique skills.

The demand had been overwhelming, and soon she’d had to start taking two men at a time in the tiny room. The day had passed in a blur, and when the conference began to close, Brittany had discovered there was a long list of new clients who hadn’t gotten a chance to enjoy the new benefits of the deal they’d struck.

And so she’d rented a hotel room—the company had offered to pay, but she knew what dire straits they were in, and covered the costs herself. To ensure that there was enough room for everyone who wanted a turn, she’d taken the penthouse suite—her Halloween money was just enough to cover it.

All night, Brittany had been taking clients, three at a time. And when she was too sore to be penetrated, she started jerking them off, taking load after load on her face, her back, her tits—anywhere that they wanted to aim, she was happy to take a load.

Finally, around 5am, she’d collapsed, exhausted, and let the men know that they could fuck her in her sleep if they wanted. She’d woken up alone, coated in cum, and more sore than she could ever remember being.

_What have I done?_ she thought in shock, feeling slightly ill. _What…why would I do that?_

As she took a shower, more and more images from the previous night flashed into her head. At one point, she’d let her boss cum in her ass, and then sucked his dick clean. At another point, she could have sworn there’d been a video camera…or two, or three.

What would she find when she googled her name? How had she allow herself to become so degenerate, such a slut?

As she got out of the shower and toweled herself off, Brittany realized that she didn’t have any clothes she could wear. The outfit she’d arrived in was so matted with cum that she thought it would probably be easier to burn it than clean it off, and so she was left with the heavy bath robe that the hotel provided.

Brittany got in the elevator, her head spinning with what she’d done. It was Sunday, and she had to go to church—but before she could, she’d have to change. She couldn’t show up to church in a bath robe.

* * *

Kelsey sat in the tattoo artist’s chair, wondering if she could get away with touching herself as they tattooed her. The idea of a line of cocks pointing to her pussy, clarifying that it was the “funhouse”—she couldn’t think of anything that could possibly turn her on more. Surely the artist was able to smell her wetness, surely the stench of her arousal was filling the small parlor…

Her back was about to play host to a collection of naked fortune-tellers, one trying to insert an entire crystal ball into herself. She was adding “SLUT” and “FUCK” to her knuckle tattoos, and altering “BORN” to read “PORN”—for the rest of her life, Kelsey’s hands would advertise her as a “PORN SLUT” and “FREE FUCK”.

The previous day, with her credit cards maxed out, Kelsey had resorted to shoplifting all of the new clothes that she wanted. And while once upon a time, Kelsey had been inconspicuous, the girl with a million tattoos was not—she’d managed to smuggle quite a collection of clothes out before she’d felt the security guard’s hand come down on her shoulder, and though she’d struggled and fought, he’d managed to hold her without effort until the police came.

A small part of Kelsey was beginning to doubt what she was doing. Did she really want these grotesque images adorning her skin for the rest of her life? Did she really want her entire self to be defined by the tattoos?

The only thing that distracted her from the self-doubt was the persistent arousal that she felt from seeing her tattoos, watching the new ones be added. They were somehow soothing, and even the fact that she was starting to realize just how _wrong_ they were was somehow a turn-on in itself.

It had been almost thirty hours since Kelsey had last been home. Finally, at 6pm, she was done. She managed to get a “thanks” out, before walking home, a part of her wishing that she hadn’t offered her car up in trade for the tattoo that she simply _had_ to have the previous day—a depiction of herself, naked, holding the balloon on her ankle, which had been altered to include the word “FUCKTOY”.

She tried to ignore the feeling of illness that was overcoming her at what she’d done, instead taking deep breaths, thinking about how hot her tattoos looked. She would rather have her new tattoo than a car, of course, but a small part of her was annoyed that she couldn’t get home any faster.

On the way home, just to distract herself from the panic attack that threatened to overcome her, Kelsey was forced to slip into an alley-way and get herself off.

* * *

### Friday:

“Bye guys! Remember, I’m not in next week—medical reasons.”

“Sure thing, Heather,” Jerry replied, but he wasn’t really listening. He, like the rest of the company, was just waiting for his female colleagues to leave. Brittany had promised them something special that night, and they couldn’t wait to see what it was.

Brittany had come into work that Monday morning with every intention of quitting. She couldn’t believe how she’d acted, and her day at church had simply confirmed the sinful nature of what she’d done. But when she’d sat down at her desk and begun to draft her resignation letter, she’d been unable to concentrate.

Part of it had been her trophy, annoyingly reflecting the sunlight straight into her eyes, but the real reason that the letter never got finished was that a strange change of heart had come across her. Sure, what she’d done had been _sinful_ …but that was what made it fun! Besides, how sinful could saving the company really be? Now everyone got to keep their jobs…and, best of all, she was the most popular person in the office.

Guys kept on coming to her desk to congratulate her, and while at first she’d been offended by their thanks, as the day progressed she’d realized that they were just being nice. No, more than that—they were congratulating her for her unique talents, and that was something she should be proud of.

In fact, by the end of the day, she’d insisted on thanking them for their thanks the best way she knew how—by slipping into the janitor’s closet, and giving them their choice of holes to fuck.

On Thursday, her boss had called her into his office, and told her that it had to stop—by being so generous during work hours, she was preventing people from meeting their maximum potential each day. Brittany had been shocked—her intention had only ever been to increase productivity, but they quickly worked out a solution.

During the day, she’d let people work. But after hours, every male in the building would meet her in the conference room, and she could make sure that they were all satisfied with the quality of their jobs.

* * *

When Kelsey had walked in that morning, and seen the look of shock on her colleagues faces, a huge grin had formed on her face, and it hadn’t left since. She had considered slipping off and masturbating in the restroom, but quickly realized that it was practically impossible to shock her colleagues more than she already had, and taken to spreading her legs—and her pussy-lips—in front of them, and openly playing with herself, getting off at the looks of confusion and disgust on their faces.

After she’d gotten herself off in the alley, she’d been overcome with self-loathing. On top of that, she’d been shocked by what she was wearing—she’d been practically naked, in the middle of the street. She’d begun to sob, and run home as quickly as she could.

As soon as she got to her bedroom, she threw herself down on her bed, and burst into tears. As she’d heaved with anguish, however, she’d suddenly started to feel much better. She wasn’t sure exactly why—perhaps it had been when she’d looked into the trophy and seen the tattoos on the soles of her feet that she’d almost forgotten getting, or perhaps it was just the comfortable feeling of being home.

She’d given herself a few hours to calm down, and then stood up and appraised herself.

“Is it too far?” she’d asked herself out loud, and almost laughed at the ludicrous question. Too far? How could it be too far! She was still clothed!

Stripping off her clothes so she could truly admire all the tattoos she’d acquired, Kelsey had breathed a huge sigh of relief. Every inch of her was covered in ink, and it served as a sort of armor from the outside world. She was protected by crudity, by the obscene images scrawled all over her own skin.

And so Kelsey had taken a pair of scissors, and ensured that every piece of clothing she wore showed as much skin as was humanly possible. It would be a crime, she reasoned, to hide any more of her tattoos than strictly necessary.

Brittany had been shocked by the sight herself, but quickly realized how she could use her friends’ new attitude to her advantage.

“But I’m not a lesbian?” Kelsey had said, in answer to Brittany’s offer.

“Neither am I,” the secretary had giggled. “But there’s money in it for you—I know you’re broke, sweetie, and this way you keep your job, make a bit of extra cash on the side…”

“And there will be people watching?” Kelsey asked, her eyes lighting up at the idea of more people being affected by her tattoos.

“Of course,” Brittany said with a grin. “That’s the whole point.”

The money and keeping her job should have had more sway in Kelsey’s decision, but the once-shy made up her mind almost entirely based on the idea of reaching a wider audience.

### Epilogue:

Brittany couldn’t help but snake a hand down to between her legs as she watched the latest video. She was unsurprised to find Kelsey doing the same thing as she sat behind her, the pair watching the footage together for the first time.

It was rare to find Kelsey without a hand between her legs. If there was a chance of someone watching, she had her pussy-lips spread wide, her fingers performing obscene acts, and a string of filthy words coming out of her mouth. She lived to shock, she realized that now—without her making sure that people were being pushed out of their comfort zones, no one would ever grow as a person.

That was what she told herself, anyway.

In the video, man after man came all over her colorful tattoos. She was clearly having the time of her life, being coated in cum as Brittany ate her out. Of course, the blonde receptionist looked to be having a good time as well, as she took a cock in her cunt and another in her ass.

It had been a massively profitable enterprise for the company, especially since Kelsey had been the only one asking to get paid. Even she, since finally getting out of debt, had been asking for less and less each shoot.

The biggest hits were the videos starring both of them—Kelsey hadn’t fucked a guy on camera yet, but she had no problem doing anything and everything with Brittany, and actually seemed to get off on having cum splash onto her skin. She was almost always naked around the office these days, and all her co-workers had to do was ask for her to stay still so they could jerk off on her.

But Heather’s solo series did quite well too—since she’d gotten out of hospital, her new huge implants had grown famous. The “Heather’s Hooters” series were formulaic, but no one was complaining—her new tits were obviously fake, but many men found that a turn-on. Ever since getting her eighth piercing, Heather had discovered how much she liked having complete control over her body, and getting the bigger tits she’d always wanted had seemed like the obvious first step.

She’d gone for the biggest possible option, and whenever they entered her field of vision (which was almost constantly) she would grow wet knowing how disproportionate they looked on her slight frame.

As Brittany and Kelsey finished getting off to their latest production, Heather waddled in the room. Since leaving hospital, she’d never gone more than a few minutes without being stuffed full of the largest dildos she could find—the minimum she needed to feel full was a pair of two-litre bottle-sized sex toys.

“You ready, guys?” she said brightly, even as her eyes twitched with pleasure. She came just from walking, and while it had been a bit strange at first, the office had quickly gotten used to it.

“Let’s go,” Brittany said, standing up and moving into the studio. She was in charge of making sure the studios ran smoothly—though when she’d taken the role, she’d made it very clear that it wasn’t going to interfere with her receptionist position. She took her role very seriously, and only left the desk once the day’s work was complete.

Heather’s eyes lit up with excitement at the machine in front of her. It was a prototype that she’d found online—a mechanical fucking machine with dildos that were slightly larger than the ones inside of her, that could fuck her as fast and deeply as she wanted.

She was practically drooling with anticipation as she pulled the toys out of her body. Despite the beautiful contraption in front of her, she was still distracted—as always—by the sight of her two gaping holes. They were large enough to fit a leg of ham into, and the sight of her inner walls dripping with anticipation never failed to send a thrill through her body.

“Let’s do this,” she said with a grin. Instead of payment, she’d asked that her share of the proceeds go to buying larger and larger toys, and anything else that struck her fancy. This was the piece de resistance of the studio’s collection.

Brittany got behind the controls of the machine, and tentatively pressed a few buttons. The original pitch for the videos had been ‘motivational speeches’, but after a few brainstorming sessions at her desk with the CEO, they’d realized that nothing had motivated the company like sex, and so the videos had quickly become extremely specific and focused.

For a second, Brittany wondered exactly how a video of Heather get pounded from both ends by a machine would be ‘motivational’, but it didn’t take long for her to wave the thought off. It must have been working, because companies kept buying them—hell, even individual people had started ordering them from the company website.

“Okay,” Brittany said, turning the machine on. “Get ready!”

“Oh I’m ready,” Heather said, as the toys began slowly—agonizingly slowly—entering her holes and filling her up. “I was born ready…”

She gasped with shock at the feeling of them pushing into her, but managed to hold it together and turn her attention to Brittany.

“Turn the dial,” she moaned.

“What?” Brittany asked. “Why? What does it do?”

“Makes them…expand…” Heather said, as another orgasm began wracking her body.

“Oh,” Brittany said, and turned the dial. Her friend had two of the largest sex-toys she’d ever seen inside her, and as the blonde receptionist watch, they began slowly expanding.

“Yessss…” Heather said, cumming over and over again. She’d never felt so full in her life.

Brittany and Kelsey smiled as they watched their friend’s body repeatedly explode with pleasure. They were happier than they could ever remember being.


	That Can’t Be Right

Inspired by [Kris P. Kreme](https://mcstories.com/TattooedLadies/../Authors/Kris-P-Kreme.html)’s [“My, How You’ve Changed”](https://mcstories.com/TattooedLadies/../MyHowYouveChanged/index.html). Extended by special request.

### Chapter 1:

“Meg? Meg Fortescue? Is that you?”

“Rob?”

“Oh my god! It’s been so long.”

“I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen you since…god, highschool?”

“Graduation day! I remember, you gave me a quick blowjob with your robes on. One of my fondest memories.”

“What?? I did no such thing.”

“Whoa! Calm down, Meg—it’s okay. I never told anyone about it.”

“But…I didn’t do that. I’ve never done anything _like_ that. I didn’t even lose my virginity until my second year of college.”

“Megan, I don’t want to argue, but you definitely did. You were known all over school as the Queen of BJs.”

“I most certainly was not! I only went down on you that one time, it wasn’t like it was something I did for everyone. It was…it was a special occasion.”

“Haha, it sure was.”

“It was fun, but I have no idea where you got the idea that I was the…the ‘queen of blowjobs’.”

“Well, I mean…that’s what your flyers used to say.”

“Flyers?”

“Oh yeah. It’s only been five years—I’m surprised you don’t remember. You were so proud of your oral skills, you made those flyers and distributed them all around the school.”

“Rob, I did no such thing! What an insane suggestion. I was the Queen of Blowjobs—I didn’t need to advertise. Everyone _knew_ that if they came to me, I’d go down on them, no questions asked. Why would I bother putting time and money into printing flyers?”

“I did wonder that. I always guessed it was to attract teachers—god, was there a single teacher at that school you didn’t blow?”

“Rob, I know it’s been a while, but I’m really worried about your memory. You know I would never perform oral sex on a teacher—it was clearly marked at the top of my flyers. ‘Queen of BJs: Students only’. There wasn’t a single student I wouldn’t go down on, but a teacher? Ew. That’s just gross.”

“I guess we’re remembering it differently.”

“I suppose. What have you been up to since school?”

“Well, after walking on you fucking our math teacher, I realized how much potential there was in education. I’m a professor now, over at the local college.”

“Oh that’s great! Although I’m afraid you must be misremembering—I would never fuck a teacher. Like I said, it wasn’t until college that I lost my virginity. No, I just used to blow them.”

“For better grades?”

“No, just for fun. My grades were already pretty good.”

“Really? I always thought…”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t want to say it.”

“Go on. I promise I won’t be offended.”

“Well, I remember you being…a bit dumb, I guess. You were always giggling and playing with your hair, and it was obvious that you cared way more about your social life than you did about school.”

“Wow.”

“You did promise not to be offended.”

“Well, apparently my mouth wrote a check that the rest of me won’t cash. That’s a pretty fucking insulting thing to say.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“God, what a shitty thing to say. I’m really annoyed about this—you were probably just jealous that I only ever fucked our math teacher, and not _you_.”

“What? Meg, we used to fuck all the time.”

“Oh! Did we? That’s…that’s not what I remember. Sorry! (giggle) I get confused sometimes.”

“Aw, I can’t stay mad at you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a phrase, Meg.”

“Oh! (giggle)”

“Anyway, I promise I’m not mad.”

“That’s okay! It’s so weird that I can’t remember fucking you. I remember fucking the math guy. We used to fuck all the time. He taught numbers!”

“He sure did.”

“I was never good at numbers, but I’m real good at fucking!”

“I know you are. You used to fuck everyone in school.”

“No way!”

“Yes way.”

“No way!”

“I promise, you did.”

“That can’t be right! I only remember fucking you.”

“And the math teacher.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot about him. (giggle)”

“Oh yeah, you were a total slut. You used to fuck anyone who wanted it—guy or girl.”

“Ewww! (giggle)”

“What?”

“I would never fuck a _girl_ , silly! How would that even work? I don’t have a…you know. A thingy.”

“Haha, you definitely used to make it work.”

“No waaaay. I only fucked guys. I was real good at fucking! I fucked every guy in the school.”

“And the girls.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah.”

“Huh! I know I’m not the brightest…thing. In the thing. But I reckon you mighta got something mixed up there, mister!”

“No, I distinctly remember. For my birthday one year, you organized a threesome with you and your best friend.”

“Cyndi?”

“That’s right!”

“Well now I _know_ you’re wrong, because Cyndi doesn’t even like boys. She’s a total gay! She was the first girl I fucked, and she was sooooo good at it that I didn’t stop. Cyndi is real good at fucking girls. Just like me!”

“That must be why you guys moved in together after high school.”

“Wrongggg! You’re such a dummy, dummy. After high school I went to college, and then I moved in with my husband! It was tough giving up the threesomes but Cyndi understood.”

“Think about what you’re saying, Meg.”

“What?”

“You? At college? Does that sound right?”

“Ummmmm…”

“And you definitely don’t have a husband. If you did, why would you be meeting me here for a date?”

“Okay maybe I was lying about college, but I definitely have a husband. Don’t I?”

“Nope.”

“But…but…”

“It’s okay, Meg. It seems like Cyndi is running late for our threesome. Do you have her number?”

“Ummmm…I think I have it somewhere.”

“Here, why don’t you give me your phone?”

“Okay! Phones are hard. (giggle)”

“Hello, Cyndi? It’s Rob—from school. I know, it’s Meg’s phone. We’re catching up—we were just talking about you, and she suggested I give you a call. You should come down to the bar on fifth, we’re sort of having an impromptu reunion of sorts.

“Well heck, of course you can bring your girlfriend…”

### Chapter 2:

“Cyndi!”

“Oh my god, Rob. And Meg! I can’t believe you two still keep in touch.”

“(giggle) We don’t, really! We just ran into each other in the, um…in the food thingy.”

“The store?”

“Yeah! Yeah, the food store thingy. (giggle)”

“Wow. Meg. You’ve, uh…you’re different than I remembered.”

“And you are different than I remembered! Of course, I always remembered you naked.”

“What??”

“C’m’ere for a kiss.”

“I don’t want a…mmmph! Meg! What are you doing?”

“Come on, Cyndi. Don’t you remember what a great kisser Meg was?”

“No! Of course I don’t.”

“Ah, yes. You were probably too distracted by the taste of her pussy.”

“What are you even talking about!? We never went past kissing. I didn’t lose my virginity until college.”

“Course you did, babes! Remember all those threesomes? We were always getting threesomed!”

“No we weren’t! The only sex I had in high-school was going down on you.”

“That’s not what your tattoo says.”

“Well, jokes on you. I don’t even _have_ a tattoo. And I certainly didn’t have one in high-school! I was too busy sharing other women with Meg.”

“Not just women, surely.”

“Of _course_ just women. I’m _gay_!”

“That’s not what your tattoo says! (giggle)”

“Meg, what are you talking about? My tatt just says ‘high school slut’, it doesn’t say anything about gender. See?”

“That is a nice tattoo. It really matches your clit piercing.”

“Oh god, I would _never_ get a piercing. Guys don’t like them!”

“Well, they’re probably distracted. You really love showing off your tattoos, don’t you?”

“Tattoos? What? I only have the one. One tattoo, one piercing.”

“Do you two still hold a lottery to choose your new tattoo after each gangbang?”

“What? (giggle)”

“Gangbang? What are you talking about? Look at my tattoos—do _any_ of them say gangbang? No!”

“Well, not yet. I was thinking that could be your next one.”

“I don’t have gangbangs! I haven’t even seen Meg since high-school.”

“But honey, what about our date with Rob? We have threesomes all the time!”

“Meg, what on earth is wrong with you? And Rob, seriously—what the hell??”

“She’s right, Cyndi. We’re here for a threesome.”

“No we’re not, Rob! I don’t _do_ threesomes, only gangbangs. If you don’t have a room full of guys to pound me and Meg, I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

“Meg, which one of Cyndi’s tattoos is your favorite?”

“Oh! Hmmm. Hmmmmmmm. I like the one on her neck that measures how good she’s blowjobbing! Or the one on her wrist that looks like rope made out of cock. Or the one of a schoolgirl being fucked by a dog. Or the one on her ankle that tells you to treat her like a whore.”

“Why do you like that one?”

“’Cos the ‘o’ in ‘whore’ is a butthole! (giggle)”

“You two are so competitive, Meg. Is that why you get an even more lewd tattoo every time Cyndi gets inked?”

“(giggle) Don’t be silly! I don’t have any tattoos. That’s Cyndi’s thingy!”

“Come on, you two. Are we here to discuss my tattoos all day, or are we here to have a threesome?”

“All in good time, Cyndi. Which one of Meg’s tattoos do you think is the best?”

“Meg doesn’t have any tattoos. I should know; I’ve seen her naked more than enough times.”

“Well then, which of her piercings do you like best?”

“Ugh, _fine_. I’ll pick a tattoo. I like…probably the one of her putting a traffic cone up her cunt.”

“Why’s that?”

“I like a girl with ambition. Plus it’s a really good likeness.”

“Second choice?”

“The one on her back. So much cum dripping off her face, it looks kind of like she’s melting.”

“Good choice.”

“Thanks. Are we going to fuck now?”

“Yeah, Robbie! I wanna fuck! (giggle)”

“All in good time. For now, I want to talk about Cyndi’s girlfriend…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry she couldn’t make it. Still, I’m not sure she’d be into the threesome, so maybe that’s for the best.”

“What are you talking about? She’s basically your pimp.”

“What? Suzanna? Ha!”

“Robbieeeeee…I wanna _fuck_ …don’t you want to pull on my nippy rings?”

“We’ll get there, Meg. For now I want to talk about Suzanna.”

“I don’t know what you’ve been drinking, but you’re barking up the wrong tree there. Suzanna is the straightest gay I’ve ever met.”

“Then how does she make a living from whoring out you and Meg?”

“Rob, seriously. It’s not a _living_. It’s like, a few times a month at best.”

“That can’t be right. You two are out at least once a day, often more.”

“Ugh, no. You’ve gotten your wires crossed. Suzanna makes a living from pimping us out, but that’s only because we’re not cheap. The stuff we do costs a lot of dough. Perverts like you will pay big bucks to watch us go down on each other, after a roomful of men has pounded us all day.”

“Really? Because this whole afternoon is only costing me fifty bucks.”

“What!?”

“It’s true.”

“That can’t be right! Fifty bucks? Come on, Rob, don’t be ridiculous.”

“That’s the price your pimp set.”

“Bull. Shit.”

“Robbie, hurry upppp. We got another appointment straight after you!”

“Patience, sweet Meg. We need to make sure that everything is in order here.”

“Damn right we do! I’m calling Suzanna and getting her down here _right now_.”

“I thought she was busy?”

“She was. But knowing that you’re stiffing us…Meg, stop giggling. Not like that…and only paying fifty for the whole evening: I’m sure that’ll get her attention.”

“Meg, what does this tattoo say?”

“Ch…cheee…cheaap…whore! Cheap whore!”

“That’s just a tattoo, jackass. Suzanna! It’s Cyndi. Get down to the cafe, pronto. We’re in the back room. Yes, it’s an emergency. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

### Chapter 3:

“Oh my god, Cyndi!? What happened to you??”

“What’s up, babe?”

“You’re…you’re covered in tattoos! And is that…is that a piercing?”

“One of many, my love.”

“What _happened_?? Who are these people?”

“Are you kidding, hon? You know Rob. He’s a regular.”

“A regular what?”

“Sweetie, we don’t have time for jokes. Rob’s claiming that you quoted fifty bucks. For the whole afternoon!”

“Fifty bucks for _what_?”

“Allow me to introduce myself. Rob. I know your girlfriend from high school.”

“Is this true!?”

“Of course it is, love.”

“I think the last time we met, you were off your head on coke. You probably don’t remember.”

“What on _earth_ are you talking about? I’ve never done coke in my life!”

“Suzanna, you’re drunk.”

“I am _not_ drunk! I only do coke, and only on special occasions!”

“I think getting smashed is the only way you can deal with what you’ve done to your girlfriend. And Meg.”

“Guys, is _someone_ gonna fuck me soon?”

“All in good time, Meg.”

“(hic) Thatsh not why I drink, sholdier. Thatsh not why I do any drugsh…”

“Babe, are you okay?”

“Shut up! I’m talkin’. (hic)”

“It’s become a vicious circle, hasn’t it? You drink to cope with what you’ve done to the people you love most in the world, and then you need to keep doing it to support your habit.”

“Thatsh not true! Shure, I shometimesh feel bad about what I’ve done! (hic) But I’m independ…indep…I’ve got plenny of wealth of my own, shee! (hic)”

“You did, Suzanna. But that was before you blew it all on plastic surgery. Your tits, your face, your ass…there isn’t a single inch of you that hasn’t gone under the knife.”

“Liesh! (hic) This is all me, baby. Have a look and shee…”

“Yay! Suzanna’s getting naked! Wheeee!”

“Hon, what’re you doing?”

“Shut up!”

“Let your girlfriend strip, Cyndi. That’s how you two met, isn’t it?”

“What? No! We met in college. That was before she had all this…work done, of course.”

“You’re telling me that an ex-stripper and a whore met in _college_?”

“Yes!”

“Shut up, whore. Mamma’s dancin’!”

“Yay! I love it when Suzanna dances.”

“Shut up!”

“Come on, Cyndi. There shouldn’t be any lies between old friends. She was your favorite stripper, and she let you take her out for expensive meals. She got more and more used to being spoiled, which is why you and Meg became whores in the first place. Now she’s your pimp, selling your bodies for $50 a pop, using the money on drink, drugs…and plastic surgery.”

“That…that can’t be right.”

“It’s a good thing that all three of you have a day job at a sex store. Otherwise I have no idea how you’d be able to afford your collection of toys.”

“Rob, you’re not making sense. We do this full-time. How on earth would we have time for anything else?”

“You know, I have no idea how you make the time. Between the whoring, the sex store, and the camming…”

“Camming?? What are you talking about? We just whore at night and work in the sex store during the day.”

“Speaking of whoring, can someone _please_ fuck me? Pleeaaaase?”

“Just watch Suzanna dance, honey.”

“Fiiiiiine.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. And yet, somehow, you find the time to put on at least three shows a week. The three of you, playing with each other, showing off the latest toys you’ve gotten…”

“Three times a week? C’mon, Rob. It’s like, twice a month _tops_.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure Meg got the schedule tattooed on her left ass-cheek.”

“Joke’s on you, smartass. Meg doesn’t have any tattoos on her butt. She likes to keep it blank, so she can see the marks when Suzanna spanks her.”

“Of course, now that you’ve been kicked off all the main camming sites, only the specialty ones will take you. Shows on the deep web aren’t as popular, but I’m sure they’re much more profitable.”

“Rob, I don’t even know what the deep web is. Look at Meg’s butt—does it list any shows on the deep web?”

“Of course you don’t know what it is. Suzanna’s the brains of the operation.”

“Suzanna? Ha! Look at that drug-addled bitch. Do you think she’s the brains of anything? No, I’m the one who set us up on the deep web, I’m the one who made sure to get the schedule inked on Meg’s butt so she wouldn’t forget it…”

“Oh, I’m not saying she’s smart. But compared to you and Meg, she’s practically a genius.”

“Meg, maybe. But me? You can’t say I’m stupid.”

“Not all the time, no. But you’re always thinking with your pussy.”

“That’s not true!”

“All you care about is getting your holes stuffed, with larger and larger toys. That’s all you ever do at the store; research the newest, biggest toys. That’s all you do on cam—stretch out your holes. It’s all you can think about.”

“No…”

“Even when Suzanna and Meg are licking you out, even when you’re getting pounded by five guys at once. You’re just thinking about the new XXXXL Dragon toys, and how you can special order them in.”

“No…I…”

“You can’t even string a sentence together unless it’s about getting filled up by a larger toy, can you?”

“I…I…”

“Rob! (hic) Leave the poor bitch alone.”

“Suzanna…”

“Come here, pet. You know we have another appointment shtraight after thish.”

“But…I…”

“Unlesh Rob wantsh to fuck you one more time before we go, of course.”

“That’s very kind of you, but no thank you. I’m quite happy with today’s session. How much do I owe you, again?”

“Fifty dollarsh, love. And tip.”

“But Suzaaaannaaaa, I didn’t even get fucked!”

“Shut up, bitch. When we get home, Cydi will lick you out. Won’t you?”

“Mmmm…”

“(hic) And then what’ll we do, pet?”

“Go online and order a new toy?”

“That’sh right. And maybe get a new tattoo for Meg, while we’re at it. (hic)”

“Hooray!”


	Night and Day

### Chapter 1

“Are you okay, Jackie? You look a mess.”

There was a brief pause, as the young woman tried to think of a suitably cutting comeback. After a few seconds, it became clear that her brain was completely incapable of wit, and the young woman replied with a simple sarcastic “Thanks.”

Jackie knew she looked a mess. Her face was puffy, her hair was full of knots, and the bags under her eyes were large enough to carry groceries in.

It hadn’t always been like this. Just a few weeks ago, Jackie had been in good shape. Trim and attractive, with flawless skin (none of the pimples that she’d started to find on her forehead and around her nose) and enough time in the morning to accentuate her features with a dab of makeup.

But just a few days ago when she’d tried wearing eyeliner, she’d totally forgotten to take it off before collapsing into bed, and woken up to extreme panda eyes. Panda eyes that she hadn’t had time to deal with before rushing off to class...

Jackie didn’t just look a mess; she was a mess. She’d thought she would be able to juggle work and study, but as soon as the semester had started up again, it had hit her like a train. Classes at eight or nine in the morning, and then work until well after midnight.

By the time she caught the bus home, she was so wiped that all she could think about was sleep.

“I’m serious,” her workmate Rob said, a concerned look on his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to wave him off, but the motion was enough to make her head spin. What was wrong with her? She’d worked like this last semester without a problem; perhaps it was the extra unit of math she was doing, but for some reason she was really struggling this year.

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Not really,” she mumbled. That was the other problem—some nights she’d collapse into bed and drift off straight away, but on other nights the stress was keeping her up for a few hours.

Even when she did sleep, it wasn’t the deep sleep that her body obviously needed.

There was a pause as Rob eyed her off. Jackie knew that he’d always had a crush on her—one time she’d heard him describing her to a friend on the phone.

“She looks like a young Mila Kunis,” he’d said, and the comparison wasn’t inaccurate. Jackie had the same short build, the same long brown hair, and while her face didn’t exactly resemble the film star’s, it matched her in cuteness.

Jackie had a button nose and sparkling blue eyes. Her Mediterranean heritage had given her olive skin and thick lips. Lately she’d been too run down, but normally she jogged to work, and so she was in good shape.

She knew she was attractive, and had used it to her advantage. In the bar at night, she’d flirt for tips; at school, she’d wear skirts and shirts for her male teachers that maybe showed a little more skin than they should.

And when she’d learned that Rob was in charge of the roster, he’d been the target of her charms. She’d really wanted to make sure that she got as many hours as possible at the bar without having to miss school.

The flip side, of course, was that Rob had made sure to always schedule himself onto her shifts. Once the roster had been locked in, right before school started, she’d made it very clear that nothing was going to happen between them. He’d seemed hurt, but neither of them had never brought it up again, and Jackie had been relieved that their relationship had stayed friendly.

“Look,” Rob eventually said, breaking the silence. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but I have some spare sleeping pills. They’re great—they totally knock you out, but they only last a few hours. You’ll wake up as soon as your alarm rings, a totally new person.”

“Oh my god, for real?”

“For real,” Rob said. “Hang on, they’re in the office. I’ll grab them for you now.” “Oh my god Rob, you’re a life-saver.”

“Not a problem,” the young manager replied with a grin. Jackie attempted a smile in

return, but before she could get the muscles working, Rob had headed upstairs.

“Hey!” a customer called out, and Jackie realized that she’d been pouring a beer for that

entire conversation, and it was starting to splash onto her shoes.

“Whoops!” she said, and after serving the beer, dropped down to clean up the mess. God, she thought wearily. I could fall asleep right here...

* * *

When Jackie got home that night, her head was buzzing. Of course. All day when she was on her feet, she was exhausted; the moment she was actually able to just lay down and sleep, her mind wouldn’t turn off.

Going into the bathroom to brush her teeth, she flinched at the sight of herself in the mirror.

“God,” she muttered. “No wonder Rob said something...”

Her face was blotchy, her eyes were blood-shot, and it looked like there was something black in her teeth. Poking at it with her tongue, it was clear that it was licorice...the licorice that she’d had at 10 that morning.

“Ugh.”

She’d hoped that brushing and flossing would calm her mind down, but no luck—it didn’t take long for Jackie to decide to open up her bag and found the sheet of tablets that Rob had brought down for her.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, throwing two in her mouth and swallowing them down. To her surprise, they took effect almost immediately, and the moment she managed to stagger into bed, she’d fallen into a deep, deep sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Jackie jumped out of bed with a spring in her step. For the first time since the semester had started, she felt good.

No; she felt great.

As she showered, it was impossible for her to wipe a smile off her face. Whatever was in those pills, they were worth it. She’d slept solidly, better than she had in weeks, and to top it off, she’d had some pretty fun dreams as well.

The details were a bit vague, but she remembered dreaming that she’d called Rob and finally agreed to a date. In the dream, he’d been excited but not surprised—even when she’d told him that he had to come around immediately. A lot of the dream had been about preparing for his arrival. Cleaning her room, shaving her legs, even trimming her pussy-hair (which had gotten a bit wild over the last month or so).

Glancing between her legs, Jackie’s brow furrowed in confusion. Why had she dreamt that her pussy-hair had gotten long? Looking at it now, it was nicely trimmed, just as it had been in her reverie last night.

Ah well, she thought to herself, the smile returning to her face. The rest of the dream—everything after Rob had arrived—had been pretty wild. It was strange that her subconscious had focused on her manager; he wasn’t the kind of guy that she went for at all.

Dreams don’t mean anything, Jackie reminded herself, and didn’t think about the strange nighttime fantasies she’d had for the rest of the day.

* * *

“How’d the pills go?” Rob asked with a leer, and Jackie couldn’t help but blush at the way that he blatantly checked her out. Had he always been this unsubtle, or was she just more aware of it after their odd encounter from her dream last night?

“I didn’t try them,” she lied. She wasn’t quite sure what Rob’s game was; perhaps he thought if she “owed” him, she’d have to finally agree to a date.

Of course, before his flagrant ogling, Jackie had been getting closer to considering a date with him. If she had half as much fun as the dream version of her the previous night...

“Oh,” he said, unperturbed. “Sure thing.”

The rest of the shift passed uneventfully; the bar was fairly busy, and so she and Rob didn’t have time to talk again all evening. At a few points, she thought she saw him pointing her out to various patrons, but she soon decided that she was probably imagining it.

Real-life Rob is a bit of a creep, Jackie thought to herself as they were closing down the till. But if dream Rob were to visit again tonight, that’s something I certainly wouldn’t object to...

* * *

That night, dream Rob didn’t visit again. After the restful sleep she’d had the previous night, Jackie actually had the mental energy to do a bit of tidying before falling into bed. There was less needing doing than she’d thought; over the past few weeks of utter exhaustion, she’d managed to actually keep her room quite tidy.

When it hit 2:14am, she took two pills, and immediately fell asleep.

This time, she dreamt that some guys from the bar—two, three, maybe even four—knocked on her door an hour after she went to sleep, and she stripped off her nightclothes and let them all in, totally naked.

Before long, they’d taken their clothes off as well, and they all fell into bed together.

The next morning, Jackie didn’t spring out of bed with quite the enthusiasm she had the previous night. For the most part, she still felt great; better than she had in weeks, excepting the previous day. But as she staggered towards the kitchen, she realized she felt extremely sore.

Sore, and slightly sticky.

Jackie’s time had been split evenly between work and school for several years now, with no time to date. She’d had a few brief summer flings, and when the need really got to her, had even been known to pick someone up from the bar. And so it took her a few minutes to realize what the feeling of soreness was.

She felt fucked.

Really, really well fucked. In the dream, the guys had been rough and relentless, and she’d loved every minute of it. But now, in the morning, it almost felt as if her late-night company had been real.

As Jackie stepped into the shower, she shook the whole idea off. It had just been a dream.

She must have just slept funny.

Washing off the sticky sweat which coated her entire body, Jackie heard her alarm go off in the other room. She’d actually managed to wake up before it startled her into consciousness. That was something she hadn’t done for years now.

“These little pills of Rob’s are great,” she muttered to herself, before another thought hit her. She’d woken up before her alarm, gaining a head-start of at least fifteen minutes on her standard day.

Just enough time to get off in the shower, reliving the hot fantasy that she’d concocted for herself the previous night...

* * *

That night, at the bar, she blushed at the sight of the men she’d dreamed about. She’d thought about the dreams several times throughout the day. It had really been quite hot, and she hadn’t realized that her subconscious was so wicked. But it wasn’t until she saw their faces at the bar that Jackie remembered exactly who the dream had been about.

It hadn’t been two guys, or even three. It had been four big, rough-looking cowboys, and as soon as they saw her, a lustful look spread across all of their faces.

Jackie blushed, and hoped that a similarly lustful look wasn’t visible on hers. She had a good job, and a good reputation, and deciding to play out some kind of strange fantasy that her unconscious had dreamed up for her was not a good idea.

Still, she couldn’t help but think to herself. Wouldn’t it be fun...

### Chapter 2

“You sleeping any better?” Rob asked.

“Sure am,” Jackie said, shooting him a grin. He raised one eyebrow, and she realized that it must have come across as more flirtatious than she’d intended.

“So the pills are working?”

Jackie hesitated. She had been using his pills, but admitting that to him felt like a bad idea. A few nights ago, she wouldn’t have had the mental energy to come up with a lie, but the new, well-rested Jackie had an answer in no time.

“Nope!” she said brightly. “Thanks though, but I’ve been drinking some herbal tea. That stuff is amazing!”

“It sure is,” he replied, and turned to serve a customer—one of the cowboys who had featured so prominently in Jackie’s dream the previous night.

At around eleven, things started to slow down, and Jackie found herself in another conversation with Rob.

“Doesn’t it ever bother you?” he asked with a drawl, and the young woman shot him a questioning look.

“What?”

“Being so flat-chested.”

Jackie drew breath sharply. She didn’t know whether to slap him or blush. A part of her

was tempted to say “You didn’t seem to mind the other night!”, but she knew that she would sound crazy. Of course he hadn’t minded in her dream—he’d been her dream version of him. A totally different creature from the rude, leering, downright cruel version standing in front of her now.

Well, actually, he’d acted much the same in her dream. But in her dream, for whatever reason, Jackie had actually enjoyed it when he treated her like shit.

But that was a conversation for a later time. Probably with a therapist. Instead, she just glared at him and turned back to the bar.

* * *

Rob’s comments must have really bothered her, because that night in her dream, she was still thinking about them.

And him.

She dreamed of getting up, just a few minutes after taking her pill and going to sleep, and walking over to the door to find him there with a smile on his face.

It was just as much of a leer as it had been in real life, but while asleep that didn’t bother her—she loved it. She loved the way he looked at her body, only occasionally glancing at her face (she had answered the door naked, of course). She loved the way that he roughly threw her against the wall and began having his way with her.

And when he pulled a strange ointment out of his pocket and began rubbing it on her chest, she loved the cruel insults that he whispered in her ear.

“That’s right, tiny-tits. We’re going to grow you some boobs. You ready to be my big- titted little slut? Yeah you are.”

In response, she’d just nodded and moaned (she never spoke in her dreams, not unless a guy obviously wanted a response) and watched, fascinated, as her tits began to slowly balloon out.

They’d started as a small B-cup. Not nothing, but certainly not huge. Not as large as Rob would have liked, that much was clear.

As she watched, they grew—Jackie didn’t know a whole bunch about cup-sizes larger than her own, but she guessed that they ended up as a large C, possibly even a D.

“There we go,” Rob said with an evil grin. “Now the guys will have something to hold onto.”

* * *

Jackie missed classes the next morning.

As soon as she woke up, she knew something was wrong. There was a weight on her chest that hadn’t been there before—not metaphorically, she could literally feel an unfamiliar weight.

The second she’d seen her new tits, she’d started screaming.

It’s all real, she’d thought to herself in a panic. It’s all real! How is this happening to me? It hadn’t taken her long to come up with a theory.

The pills.

She’d immediately run into the bathroom and flushed the pills Rob had given her down

the toilet. Then she’d spent almost forty minutes poking and prodding at her new tits, during which she’d learned:

a) They were definitely, definitely real, and

b) They were extremely sensitive.

After the fourth time she’d tugged on her nipples desperately trying to prove that they

were a figment of her imagination, or some kind of prosthetic, or anything that wasn’t a real pair of tits sitting on the front of her chest, she’d been unable to hold back a moan.

In her dream, every time Rob had even brushed a hand against her tits, she’d almost cum. Jackie had hoped that this was just a part of the fantasy, or the dream state, or whatever one could call it...but it seemed to be true in real life as well.

Damn it, she’d thought, stumbling back towards the bed. I am not going to be able to concentrate until this is taken care of...

Two quick orgasms later, Jackie was much more clear-headed. She carefully got dressed, making sure not to stimulate her ultra-sensitive tits any more than she had to. None of her bras fit, of course, and the only tops that she could get to close were an unattractive hoodie and a white button-up shirt.

She wore them both.

* * *

“Miss Night, I’m not sure what you want me to tell you,” the doctor said, looking at her quizzically.

“I want you to explain how I got to be like this,” Jackie said through gritted teeth, gesturing at her newly-protruding chest.

It never used to protrude.

“It’s perfectly natural,” he said, trying to maintain eye-contact. “All women go through growth spurts—it seems that yours has just happened later in life.” “Overnight?”

“Mmmm,” he said noncommittally. “No, but—if I’m being honest—it’s much more likely that this has been happening over several weeks, and you only noticed it today.”

“And the dreams?”

“I’m not a psychiatrist,” the older man said, finally failing at his attempts, and talking directly to her boobs. “But I would guess that you subconsciously noticed what was happening, and have been processing it while unconscious.”

“And...the pills?”

“Based on your description, they sound like normal sleeping pills. I can’t speak for your dreams, but I can assure you that I don’t know of any pills that can...what did you say they do? Control what you dream?”

“Yes,” Jackie muttered, defeated. She felt so stupid—everything that the doctor had said made total sense. She’d made a fool out of herself...and, worst of all, she’d flushed those great sleeping pills down the toilet.

She felt too embarrassed to even ask the doctor for a new prescription.

* * *

Jackie avoided Rob’s eyes all night at work. He had no idea what she’d suspected, how illogical it all was, but she still felt ashamed of herself. Fortunately, avoiding eye-contact was easy; he spent most of the night looking directly down her top.

Finally, she got home. Even without the pills, she fell straight into bed...and, to her surprise, into a completely dreamless sleep.

When she woke up the next morning, she felt good. Not great—there was no spring in her step, and she felt extremely sore—but certainly well-rested.

The soreness was more evenly spread around her body this time. Some was between her legs, a little was in her head...and a surprising amount was located on her upper back.

Playing with herself in the shower helped with some of the soreness, but as she stepped out and began drying herself, the feeling of the towel on the small of her back made her cry out with pain.

“What the...”

* * *

Rob still wasn’t making eye-contact, just staring at her tits as the small woman yelled at him.

“I don’t know how you’ve done it,” she shrieked, “but you are NOT going to get away with this!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied calmly, but the arrogant sneer on his face gave him away.

“Oh you son-of-a-bitch,” she said. “The tattoo! I know you’re the one behind it!” “What tattoo?” he asked, and there it was again—that slight gloating tone in his voice. Looking in the mirror that morning, Jackie had discovered the source of her pain—a

small tattoo, a tramp stamp.

It simply read “SLUT”.

Well, perhaps not “simply”. It read “SLUT”, with the last three letters spelled out in hard cocks, and the “S” a spurt of cum, shooting from the top of the L. It was unambiguous in its message, and Jackie hadn’t been able to stop crying since she saw it. Jackie had gone straight to the bar, found Rob’s contact details, and met him at home.

She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting—she’d hoped he would confess, or inadvertently reveal how she could stop what he was doing to her.

Instead, he’d just smiled and stared down her top as she yelled at him, until eventually she’d run out of steam. He’d tilted his head to the side, daring her to continue, and so she’d stormed back home and packed her bag.

Jackie wasn’t sure how Rob was doing what he was doing, but she absolutely wasn’t going to take it—she called her mother (who lived on the other side of town) and told her that she was coming to stay for a few weeks, until she could sort this out.

* * *

“I’m sorry Jackie,” her mother said—although there wasn’t a millimeter of sympathy in her icy tone. “After what you did last night, you must know that I can’t have you stay here any longer.”

“But mom,” Jackie said, trying to stay calm, trying not to sound like a whining teenager, “Nothing happened last night! I slept the whole night through.”

In response, Jackie’s mother simply raised one eyebrow and looked firmly at Jackie’s ear.

The confused young woman reached up, and gasped with pain and shock at what she found. Her left ear was pierced—not just the lobe (which she’d had done when she was a teenager) but the auricle, the conch, the tragus and the helix as well.

Her entire ear was covered in metal. When Jackie raised her other hand, she wasn’t surprised to find that it had been done as well.

“Oh god...” Jackie whimpered, and her mother just scowled at her in response.

With nowhere else to go, Jackie quickly made her way back home. Looking at herself in the mirror, she discovered that her nose and eyebrow had also been pierced.

As soon as she sat down on the bed, Jackie’s phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number—it showed her laying on her mother’s bed with her legs spread, as two guys she didn’t know penetrated her.

The huge grin on Jackie’s face clearly conveyed what a good time she was having.

* * *

“Okay Rob,” she said “What do you want?”

Jackie had cried for close to twenty minutes after getting the photo. Then she’d accidentally brushed up against her sensitive nipple, and gotten turned on enough to get herself off a few times.

Then she’d cried again.

After she ran out of tears, the young bartender made her way to the bar. Rob had been waiting for her, that familiar leer on his face.

“Wrong question,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her tits through her shirt. She didn’t even have the energy to stop him...plus, she had to admit, it felt pretty good. “The question is—what do you want?”

“I want this to all go away,” she whispered. “I want everything to be like it was before... before it all happened.”

“Wrong answer,” he said, one hand moving up from her boob to grab her chin and tilt it towards him. “Think harder. What do you want?”

Jackie stared into her manager’s eyes, confused. There was a long silence as she processed what he’d said, during which he never stopped playing with her nipple. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter as he did, and with a gasp, the answer suddenly came to her.

“I want...I want to enjoy it. Like she did.”

“Like who did?”

Jackie shut her eyes with pleasure and pulled her phone out of her pocket. On the screen

was her nighttime self, sandwiched between two guys, being treated like a worthless slut... and clearly loving every minute of it.”

“Like her.”

There was a pause, and Rob’s eyes gleamed with pleasure as she put it together. “...like me.”

“Good girl,” he said, and Jackie obediently opened her mouth to swallow the two blue

pills he held in his hand.

### Epilogue:

### 6 months later...

Jackie’s regular customers didn’t even recognize her. No one did. As far as the bar was concerned, the Jackie currently dancing on stage was a whole new person—a tattooed slut who’d moved to the city to become a dancer.

Piercings aside, her face hadn’t changed. But even when she was fully dressed (at least, as fully as Jackie dressed these days) no one looked at Jackie’s face.

They were either checking out her enormous rack, her new butt (another little gift from Rob) or—most commonly—the tattoos that covered every inch of her body.

Her arms had full sleeves—different characters from cartoons, innocent sweet and naive...pulling their pussy-lips apart, with the text “WRECK ME” in huge letters. Her thighs and calves were covered in ornate drawings of Jackie’s own face, being blasted with cum or with her tongue deep in pussy.

(Jackie had never so much as made out with another girl, but the image of her expertly going down on another woman made men hard, and that was all she cared about any more.)

As she stripped—which she did almost every night, now—she revealed more and more tattoos. “Cockwich” was printed on her flat stomach, with a figure of her being penetrated by three men simultaneously (in case anyone struggled to work out what it meant).

The small of her back was covered with her most “innocent” tattoo—from a distance, it looked like a fractal or some kind of mathematical pattern, but when you looked at it up- close, it turned into a collection of cocks, cunts, and people fucking in all positions.

But her favorite ink was written over her new, enormous tits. It simply read “Any time, any where” and had her phone number printed below it.

Ever since a photo of her stripping had gone wild, she’d gotten near-constant calls. It was almost peaceful, knowing that being treated like a slut was just a phone call away. She could answer it anytime and get dirty talk, insults, or an address that she could head to and be fucked until she couldn’t work.

Not that there was really a shortage at work—ever since Rob had given her the two blue pills, she’d been acting more and more provocatively at work. After taking a week off to get the majority of her tattoos off, she’d been delighted to return and find that Rob had turned the bar into a strip club...and made her the headlining act.

For a moment, a fragment of the old Jackie had resurfaced and wondered what had happened to the bar’s previous owner...but then she’d stepped out on-stage, wearing an exaggerated version of her old outfits, and all Jackie’s questions had been answered.

Since that night, Jackie had spent practically every night on-stage, stripping for the patrons and raking in the tips. Rob’s pills had expanded her bust, exaggerated the curves of her ass (which now had a “W” on each cheek—her set ended by her “WOW”ing the audience) and ensured that she had the stamina to keep up with her libido.

When she wasn’t stripping or making money for Rob, Jackie was fucking. All day, every day—if she was awake, she had a cock in her somewhere, and if she was asleep she often had two.

After getting her pussy-lips and nipples pierced, she’d had to be gentle for a while. It had been the hardest week of her life—okay, she could still take cocks in her ass and mouth, but her pussy ached to be filled.

“Never again,” she’d sworn. And sure enough, since that week she’d made sure to have

her pussy pumped full of cum by at least three or four guys a day...more, if Rob had a list of guys to be serviced.

She loved Rob’s lists. They always ensured such a variety of guys filling her up. Young, old, all different races...

Rob didn’t fuck her himself any more. Ever since he’d had to admonish her for trying to suck a customer off in the bar, she suspected that he looked at her differently—for the first few months, his cock had been in her almost as much as everyone else put together.

Nowadays, he seemed to enjoy himself more fucking his old boss, the club’s owner. He’d still occasionally get a blow-job from Jackie, but only if she begged him.

Still, Jackie couldn’t complain. All things considered, she basically had a perfect life. A job she loved, no shortage of friends, a fulfilling sex life.

And she never, ever had trouble sleeping.


End file.
