Factoid:

“All good things cum to those who wait.”

A variation to an Ord proverb attributed to an Ord, Violet Fane

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

Thank ‘Dess, it’s over ·

I’ve done it!

It’s been a grueling test thus far, across multiple disciplines. The mid-point specialties—which I’ve just completed—being mechanics and driving/maneuvering. My brother, when he was an Archários, was the last to take this exam, and I can only hope I’ve done it as well as him.

Sitting there a moment longer―

Waves of fatigue sweep over me.

I shouldn’t be feeling this tired.

Mom’s been helping me build up my endurance for this over the last few months, so I know this exhaustion isn’t physical. I think it’s because I eavesdropped on my parents’ conversation, and I now know that this test—though only at its halfway mark—is now over, and I’m feeling anxious.

That’s where this fatigue originates from ·

My fear ·

Fear of the real test that is to come in just a few short hours.

Unbuckling the harness, I push the door open.

I’d love to pull myself out through the windowless cavity for a ‘cool’ exit, but I have serious doubts that I wouldn’t get stuck.

Thanks again, ‘dessing big breasts and posterior.

Finally, standing after hours of driving feels glorious.

I pull off the helmet and balaclava,

shaking out my shoulder-length hair as the crisp early morning air bites my face and neck.

I don’t really like the cold, but my head feels good being newly freed from its helmet prison.

Bypassing the mannequin laying on the track in front of the ‘Cuda, striding up to my parents, “Sir, how did I go?”

But Dad doesn’t even look at me. He scowls at the stopwatch in my mom’s hand, muttering, “Dion did it faster.”

He adjusts his hat,

pulls a wooden pen from behind his ear,

and hands it to Mom

before walking off, readjusting his headwear as he goes.

He didn’t even acknowledge me ·

Can I ever do anything right?

I wear my heart on my sleeves, and Mom must sense my emotions―she’s good at that―as she comes over and gives me a big hug. “Ignore him,” she says warmly, “you were amazing. I’m so proud of you!”

Looking into my eyes, she hesitates. “Cely, ahhh—”

“I know, Mom” · Communicating with her, telepathically.

“They’re coming for me this morning.”

“Oh · You heard?”

“Yeah, I saw you and Dad talking · So, I zeroed-in to listen while I drove by · Then I read Dad’s thoughts.”

“You could read his thoughts? · And hear at a distance?”

“Been able to for a while, Mom · It’s getting clearer · Stronger.”

“Good,” she voices aloud, though there is a strain on her face.

She nods, “you know, then. No more of this sleep deprivation nonsense. Go,” playfully slapping my posterior, “and get cleaned up. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Before I move, though, Mom glances at Catriona—my five-year-old sister—who is already 5’5” and towers over me by a good five inches (when I’m not in platforms).

I’ve been this height since I was ten, and Mom insists I won’t grow any taller.

Height isn’t our only difference: My figure is curvy—big breasts, wide hips, and a big posterior—unlike Mom’s willowy frame.

I also inherited Dad’s dark copper skin and dirty-blond hair.

Cat has ultra-pale skin like my mom, but that’s the only similarity she shares.

Unlike both our parents, she has a tall, stringy, lanky body with long silvery-gray hair. I don’t know the basis for those genetics. She might only be five years old, but she behaves like a fifteen-year-old… and dresses like one too.

Today she’s wearing her preferred retailer: ’Be Juliet,’ wearing their ‘Devine Mock Neck’ long sleeve white T-shirt, ‘Bella Rhinestone’ straight jeans, and with her favorite ‘Denim Patch Sherpa’ vest coat.

‘Dess, don’t try to separate her from that denim coat!

“Cat?” Mom is waiting for her acknowledgement.

“Can you drive the car back to the garage?”

“Sure, Mom!” Cat exclaims, bounding toward the driver’s door.

“AND DON’T GO UP THAT RAMP!”

“Oh, Mom,” sighing, “oo-kaaay.”

I giggle to myself as I walk along the porch towards the back door.

I thought I was bad enough ·

But Cat ·

She’s even more of a rev-head than I am!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

My Story

“Naturally, Tommy was all over me like a nauseating rash—even with my cardigan still on. He wasn’t subtle about what he wanted. Knowing this, I promised him something he’d never refuse: a little ‘attention’ later that night. But there was a catch—he had to stay away from me for the next five hours. No eye contact, no conversation, no nothing. Any sign of him, and the deal was off.

With Tommy effectively out of the picture and Brin absent (her overbearing parents kept her home), I hunted for the right opportunity to corner Pastor Mike. The plan was simple: find the right moment to reveal my outfit and enjoy the inevitable reaction.

While most of the youth group crowded into the oversized Cinema Room to watch an early movie, the adults busied themselves preparing dinner outside. Pastor Mike popped in every so often to announce how close the meal was to being ready.

On his third announcement, the movie was ending, and the teens began trickling out, toward the outdoor tables. I hung back, waiting alone in the now-empty room. Sure enough, I overheard an Elder ask Pastor Mike to do a final sweep.

This is it!

Unbuttoning my cardigan, I yanked it off, standing there in my ensemble.

I unbuttoned my cardigan, yanking it off,” I say aloud, hoping to also keep my captive audience engaged.

“Twins?”

“Sorry??” Emy and Amy respond in unison, blinking.

Either I’m a spellbinding storyteller ·

Or they’re ditzy.

“You have to do as my character does in the story, remember?”

“Yessss…??”

“In the story, my character took off her cardigan. And look, I’m taking off my cardigan too. Now, you two are the only ones wearing a cardigan. So, you’ve got to take it off.

Like I have.

Now!”

“Off?? ··· B-but it’s cold,” Amy whines, echoing Emy’s pout.

“L, turn on the heater, will you?” I direct.

The reverse-cycle heater sputters to life before settling into silence. I grin inwardly.

Perfect ·

Just quiet enough for a little atmosphere ·

But cool enough for perky nips!

“Satisfied now, Amy and Emy?”

Mumbling to themselves, they reluctantly remove their cardigans, handing them over to Liz.

“Good.

Now, back to it:

Adjusting my white open-bust top, I bent over the coffee table, facing the darkened TV as if examining something. My bare booty with anal pussy tail exposed to the sliding door’s entrance. The tail butt-plug—

Dafuq! ·

Did I say their names out loud?

“D?” Liz’s voice cuts in, curious. “The tail butt-plug what?”

I blink, realizing I might’ve revealed their identities.

I didn’t catch the mistake fast enough ·

Their names are out in the world now ·

Oops!

“Sorry,” I mutter, trying to recover my rhythm. “Anyway:

The tail butt-plug had done its job—it kept me horny the entire time, but now the anticipation was all too much: I felt a tingling ‘down there’—those juices were flowing!”

“Were you going to use your clit ‘serum’ on him?” Tenille asks with mock innocence.

“Ha! No, T, it was just a statement of fact: I was getting wet! Now, don’t judge, Twins, we can’t all be prudes. Besides,” I smirk, glancing up at the ceiling camera, “I’m naturally horny,” looking directly at the foot-cam, “it’s a gift!”

I’ve got two audiences: my besties and ‘them’…

and I can’t afford to ignore either,

so, I’m telling my story to both.

Always give the audience what they came for ·

On both sides.

“Being wet was a plus, as I knew instinctively that it made my already sheer panties cling to my pussy, making it fully transparent—yet another weapon to lure him in.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

I grimace as I kick off my platform boots at the door. Shuffling into the house,

climbing the stairs to my third-floor bedroom.

It’s happening ·

Dess, it’s finally happening ·

And I’m not ready.

Stress.

Anxiety.

I feel the crushing walls around me.

Don’t panic, my mom’s voice echoes in my mind.

Keep calm, her words guide me.

I follow the steps she taught to combat fear:

two quick breaths, and a long exhale through the mouth.

Repeat.

And repeat.

Bit by bit, the storm inside begins to subside.

I feel myself calming down.

By the goddess ·

I’m tired ·

Exhausted.

Reaching my room…

head straight for the connected bathroom.

The heater lamps flicker on with a soft hum, bathing the space in warm light.

Slumping onto the short stool beside the bath,

letting my body sag with the weight of everything that’s led to this moment.

This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

A year ago, I had my life perfectly planned out.

I had hopes and dreams ·

Of living in Gadigal Land.

All of that shattered the moment Dad touched my right palm, activating the mark I didn’t even know was there.

He told me humanity wasn’t alone, that the ‘Unnatural’ were real and living among us.

He revealed the division I’d been blind to my entire life:

the Ords—ordinary humans—and us. Sentinels.

I am Homo secundii, descended from a long line of protectors whose duty is to shield the Ords from the Unnatural.

Our family names represent ancient Ord communities that our ancestors once protected.

My birthright, he said, is to defend this world.

Just the thought that a teenager like me could be a powerful woman, someone capable of protecting humanity—

It gives me goosebumps.

Even now.

But it also terrifies me.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

My Story

“Sure enough, Pastor Mike, walked in mid-conversation on his phone—

And stopped.

Bent over the coffee table pretending to look at something, I knew my bootylicious bum was staring at his face.

His voice trailed off. I heard a faint, female voice on the other side of the line, with a questioning tone—

He hung up.

This was it—my timing had to be flawless.

As he took in the vision of my beautiful round ass with tail, I counted two seconds:

Nips ‘n nobs and bits ‘n slits.

Then turned around to him, straightening up while thrusting out my boobs. ‘See anything you like?’ lifting the hem of my tartan miniskirt to reveal my wet panties, camel toe clearly visible, with a condom attached.

‘I-I s-s-sorry,’ he fumbled for words, his usual composed demeanor replaced with hesitation. ‘I… uh… needed to check the room,’ he stammered, taking a step back.

Too much?

I had to think fast—

‘OUCH!’—

Stumbled to the floor, clutching my ankle.

‘Oh no,’ I whimpered, my voice trembling with fabricated pain, ‘I think I twisted it.’

His concern was immediate, despite his earlier discomfort. ‘Are you okay? Do you need help?’

‘Could you help me get to the bathroom?’ I asked, my eyes and voice soft and pleading.

Pastor Mike hesitated for a moment.

‘Please?’ I begged.’”

“But can’t you make people do what you want?”

“Yeah, I can, T, but sex shouldn’t be like that.

Using ‘powers’ takes the fun out of a hook-up.

The build-up:

temptation,

tension,

anticipation,

foreplay.

That’s better than sex itself. Well, almost,” winking towards the ceiling.

“Anyway:

Nothing pulls the strings like a ‘damsel in distress,’ and my tears worked. He crouched down, offering his hand to help me stand. I leaned into him, feigning weakness, and let out a small pitiful sigh, as I pretended to struggle with every step.

‘It’s too painful,’ I cried, glancing up at him with wide, begging, glistening eyes.

He gave in and gingerly put his other arm at the back of my knees and lifted me up and carried me out, my barely covered nipples just under his chin.

As he carried me—”

“Carried you?” Grace interrupts, incredulously. “No way! You must weigh—”

“G! Dafuq?” In mock horror, “That’s really rude!”

Rude but true ·

He would have had to be a muscle man to carry me!

“It’s a stooory,” lengthening out the word for effect. “Now stop interrupting, G!

As he carried me out, I leaned my head close to his shoulder, my mouth near his ear, my voice barely a whisper. ‘Thank you,’ I murmured, letting the moment linger just a little longer than necessary.”

I release the clasp on my bra, opening the peep holes, showing my nipples to the ceiling cam before continuing:

“My mouth.

Near his ear.

I had him now!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

But it didn’t take long for me to realize that my so-called birthright was more of a birth-curse.

The night Dad activated the mark on my right palm, he explained that I had to receive the ‘nectar’ that makes it permanent: a twelve-month process, he said.

And then he took off his tie and shirt.

Apparently, unlike the Ords, male Secundii nipples are not just another vestigial organ.

I had to sit on his lap, our right hands held together (palm upon palm, Mark pressed upon Mark), and drink from his nipple.

The ‘nectar’ was intoxicating…

but combined with the whiff of male cologne, mixed with dad’s body odor, the stench was overpowering.

But worse than that was the mental anguish:

I was eighteen years old, sitting on my dad’s lap, suckling at his breast—

When I felt movement beneath me

OH MY GODDESS!

Dad’s erectile was thumping my inner thighs.

And to think I had to put up with that for a whole year.

Mercifully, I didn’t. The Council contacted dad and told him that he wasn’t allowed to continue the course of nectar suckling.

Not because they thought it inappropriate.

No.

For a reason far worse.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

My Story

“As he carried me down the hallway, I leaned in close, my voice soft but deliberate. ‘I’m not a member of your youth group,’ I whispered, ‘I’m just a person, and you’re just a person. And I’m legal, and so are you.’

He hesitated but kept moving, carrying me to the bathroom.

As we passed through the doorway, I pretended his movements caused me to bump my head, letting out a dramatic cry of pain followed by muffled moans.

Inside the bathroom, I shifted slightly in his arms, just enough to make him lose his balance and drop me.

I landed with a soft thud, prepared for the fall, and released a string of pained moans, my face contorted into an expression of discomfort.

Sitting awkwardly on the floor, I looked up at him with wide teary eyes, one hand reaching out for support, while the other covertly unlatching my mini skirt. I then offered both hands.

He hesitated for a moment before grasping my hands, gently pulling me to my feet. As he did, my tartan skirt slipped down, my backside and tail now hard against the bathroom sink-cabinet, pushing the butt-plug further in. The move was deliberate, timed perfectly.”

Transfixed by the story, are they?

“He-llo-ooo?

I unlatched my skirt!

And it slipped to the floor!”

In the sexiest way possible—both for the camera above me and for my friends watching me—I lift my ass off the bed, and shimmy my denim micro-shorts off, throwing them over the side of my bunk bed, stroking my mound on the outside of my blue panties.

“Come on, everybody, she’s done it,” Liz declares, her tone laced with playful encouragement. “Now it’s time for all of us to join in—off with the pajama bottoms!”

A mix of groans and laughter follows.

A few protests erupt, but they are half-hearted at best.

The dissent dies down as Tenille, back to being my bestie, is first to stand up, walking around the table to the ‘catwalk.’

‘They’ have three views of my friends on my website: above table, below table, and that of the ‘catwalk;’ and they can click any view to enlarge…

which I bet they’re doing right now.

She’s wearing a black mask, black stilettos, and black lace gloves… the only clue to what’s underneath.

The long pajama pants aren’t tapered, so Tenille simply drops them to the floor.

I’m gob smacked.

Perhaps everyone is.

Tenille’s wearing a gorgeous set of black fishnets. She lifts her pajama top above her stomach, just enough to show the connected lace garter belt, uniquely attached to the side of her thighs rather than the front.

And her panties?

I know this garter belt lace/fishnet set. Tenille got it from ‘Discreet Loving;’ and it doesn’t come with panties. The panties she is wearing are separate, a pink number with black lace edging and black transparent mesh…

crotchless.

Tenille twirls while still holding up her pajama top, before returning to her seated position.

Cross-legged.

Yes, Liz chose the right table!

How many of my clients are zooming in?·

I know am!

Not to be outdone by Tenille, Grace steps up to the plate, wearing red nails (The Nail Cartel) and those red stilettos. A sexy color to begin with. We can only imagine what’s beneath, but Grace doesn’t make us wait long as she drops those pajama pants in the sexiest way.

Following Tenille’s example, she too raises her pajama top giving us all a good look at that ‘Hello L.A. Girl’ red sensual embroidery set with garter belt and panties, spinning slowly around to give ‘them’ a good look at her perfect ass.

Rubes is perhaps the least exhibitionist among my core four and the only clue to what she could be wearing is found with her white lace eye band, her white lace gloves, and those plush white stilettos. But before Grace even sits, Rubes is up and going.

Black, red, and now white.

They could have chosen a range of differing colors. Fuq knows I’ve got plenty of colored lingerie in my extensive wardrobe. But they’ve gone for the traditional colors.

I wonder:

Is Rubes suggesting she’s more desirable than the others by choosing white?

She drops those pajama pants as fast as she can, as she pulls up her top.

It’s the prettiest set: the ‘Lorelie’ from ‘Dulce Store Paris.’ Those cute white sheer panties with floral detail with a chain and matching garter belt…

with lace stockings attached.

And as she goes to sit down, I just know that ‘they’ are all enlarging their view of the table…

or the view under the table, to be more accurate.

Basically, it’s a variation of up-skirt streaming, from what Liz calls her ‘pussy cam.’

The ‘pussy feed’ will be popular tonight ·

Or I don’t know my audience!

I’m half expecting Liz to go next.

Liz already showing off her snake jewelry and transparent gold glitter high heels.

But she doesn’t, instead calling out the Twins.

But they’re unmoving, shaking their heads.

“You all agreed to my rules,” I remind them, trying to stifle a grin.

It’s going to take forever if those two keep this up.

But it is exactly what I hope for, though I can’t let the twins know this yet. I’ll just need to let it all ‘pan out’ and play along.

Giving in, Amy and Emy slowly make their way to the top of the catwalk.

Shyly removing their slippers,

taking off their pajama bottoms, I—and ‘they’—can partially see their solid-color hipster panties.

“What?” cries Liz, “That’s not good enough.”

Reaching ‘that’ bag,

she pulls out two pairs of pink lingerie sets.

“Oh!!” they proclaim. “So··· pretty···But??”

A sheet goes up, protecting their modesty, as they change.

Two sets of PJ tops and bottoms are thrown over the top of the sheet, held taut.

Now, two pairs of sport underwear are thrown to the side.

A bit of “Ooh-ing ··· Ahh-ing,” and low murmuring.

The pajamas are retrieved.

The curtains jostle with giggling behind…

and―

the sheets come down.

The Twins stand once again dressed fully in their PJs…

but wearing pretty pink stilettos, and fingernails with pink polish.

Slowly, timidly, they push their PJ pants down,

stepping out of them,

showing off their new Hello L.A. Girl’s panties from the ‘Pink Floral Embroidery Lingerie Set.’

They do a twirl.

“Oh ··· we ··· love it!!”

And so do ‘they’ judging by the emojis flying in…

especially as the twins return to their cross-legged positions.

Fuq! ·

The ‘Pussy Cam’ is on overdrive!

Last is Liz.

Ever the showstopper, she parades across the room, her confidence unshaken.

Standing at the start of the catwalk,

she turns her back to the camera,

slips out of her heels,

and slowly bends over…

as those ‘Yeoreo Lilliean Mini Flare Leggings’ come down,

revealing a golden waist chain.

Not surprising that she’s commando!

And, no doubt, ‘they’ are looking at her evenly tanned shapely bum…

tanned perfect thighs…

her sunkissed calves.

With hands virtually touching the carpet, Liz slips back into those sparkling heels…

but remaining bent over, she spreads her legs…

hands on each bum cheek, she pulls them apart…

showing us her sun-tanned a-hole,

and her sun-kissed pussy.

As she stands straight, she pivots, further revealing the piece I bought her, from ‘OzGaga’ last summer:

a daring golden waist chain connected to sparkling gem

which is hanging/swinging in front of her hairless clit:

the perfect accessory to her fully bronzed body.

That’s my girl! · I think, smirking ·

I wonder if I’ll see her wearing the second part of her outfit?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

To say I was angry at Dad—for opening my eyes to the real world—would be an understatement. So, despite my concise language, I started to replace ‘yes’ with ‘yeah,’ and ‘no’ with ‘nah.’ And it’s become such a habit that it’s just reflex now.

And, in a way, I’m still angry.

If I was in an Ord society, living as a Sapien in a developed country, I would have civil rights and liberties. Forced marriage is seen as a barbaric relic, akin to modern slavery.

But I’m Secundii.

If I were born 80,000 years ago, there would be no problem: in those days, Secundii mavens were powerful.

But in this so-called age of equality, my rights are almost nonexistent.

Our governing body, the Echelon, makes all the rules and controls everything. My dad says that once, many eons ago, the Echelon was run by Sentinels.

But today, Ords known as Acolytes or ‘ring bearers’—Auntle Blake calls them ‘pretenders’—are in control, and they’ve decreed that females born with the ‘mark’ can no longer become Sentinels…

only to be used for procreation purposes.

I’m just supposed to be a ‘dessing vessel for fertilization ·

Nothing more than a walking womb!

And no copulation with a fellow Secundii.

Never.

I don’t even have a choice over who my partner will be.

Girls born with the genetic ability to bear the ‘mark’ are forced to breed with a ‘Ringbearer.’

Traditionally, the Sentinels were divided into Secundii and Perfectios―separate human species.

I’m Secundii, while Auntle Blake is Perfectio.

But in more recent times, the Acolytes―who are Sapiens ―have also taken on the duties of ‘Sentinel.’

Auntle Blake believes that Echelon must be trying to create a hybrid version in the hopes of gaining the ‘mark’ on their own palms. Presumably, the Acolytes aren’t just interested in owning the Echelon—which they already do—they are hoping that they might also be able to claim the ‘mark’ upon their own palms.

That’s the reason they wear those rings:

Because they don’t bear the mark.

According to Auntle Blake, they’ve been pairing off Secundiis with Acolytes for years, but the offspring are never true hybrids. Secundii—no matter who they mate with—only ever produce pure Secundii.

In many ways, I wish that I was born like Auntle Blake; Perfectios don’t have to copulate—they only contain one already fertilized egg. Like a clone, I guess.

And if I was Perfectio, I wouldn’t have these oversized breasts or hips ·

Or these bug eyes for that matter ·

If.

So, the Echelon just wanted to marry me off.

Thankfully, my dad protested, based on a legal technicality:

my parents had promised, years before, that their next child would become a Sentinel, and the Echelon accepted that offer.

It’s just that nobody expected me to be female.

However, because they made the formal agreement, the Echelon had no choice but to let me try. If I passed the test when I was twenty-five, I could become a Sentinel, at which point the suckling process would be resumed.

If.

Unfortunately—for me—they only partially relented. I would still be forced to take on a ‘merge mate’, and one was already assigned to me. And when I failed—which they expected—I would be forced to breed with ‘him’.

For the last year, both mom and dad have put me through rigorous training. Dad is my Mentor, and I’m αρχάριος — an ‘Archários’―the label given to a trainee.

And when I pass the test, I become a Sentinel

And that test is tomorrow mornin—

‘Dutala!’

I’m an ‘Ozophile,’ and ‘Dutala’ is an Australian Aboriginal song that is the tone I chose for calls from Pedro—but I let it ring through without picking up

It’s typical that just the moment I’m thinking about him ·

He phones ·

Yet again.

Pedro was assigned to me by the Echelon, the same day that dad triggered the ‘mark’.

Even though the Echelon agreed to allow me to ‘try out,’ they always assumed that I would fail and therefore refused to rescind Pedro. He is my appointed ‘merge mate.’ Or my to-be merge mate, with our merging set to occur on the day I turn twenty-five.

If I fail—Dess! ·

It was supposed to be when I turned twenty-five ·

If they’ve reverted to the old system ·

OMDESS! ·

I would be expected to merge with him now ·

If I fail ·

‘Des-‘des-des—

Anxiety attack crashes over me like a tidal wave.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

My Story

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice low and deliberate.

“Sorry that—”

“Shh, no,” I interrupted, reaching for the zipper on his trousers, “let me thank you.”

He stiffened, attempting to step back,

“N-NO!” as he tried to pull away.

But I held firm, tugging at his trousers and pulling him closer, my earlier pretense of pain vanishing like smoke.

“Look at me,” I said, stroking his erection on the outside of his trousers, “you want it—you want me—and I want you.”

‘But—’

‘Sssh,’ I silenced him with a fingertip pressed gently to his lips, my eyes locking onto his.

With deliberate precision, I returned to the zipper, pulling it down. My hand slipped inside, meeting warmth and tension as I struggled to pull out the hardening cock—”

“COCK!”

Tenille’s shout rips through the air, shattering the intensity of the moment as we all burst into laughter, the girls each grabbing a shot glass, yelling the word, and throwing it back with triumphant cheer.

Fuq yeah ·

Tenille’s back!

“I couldn’t pull ‘it’ out.

So, I tugged off my crop top, tossing it aside with a grin.

That’s your next cue, BFFs, I’m topless in the story now, and”—I unhook my bra, releasing ‘the girls,’ dropping the blue fabric over the side of the top bunk bed— “in real time!”

The room buzzes with a mix of excitement and hesitation. I don’t have to guess which BFFs don’t have to be asked twice…

and which two procrastinate.

It’s going to be a fuqin long night!

Three of my core four―Tenille, Rubes, and Grace―are already unbuttoning their PJ tops

I know that they are already braless beneath

We made that agreement, months back.

Seeing them about to undo that last button,

Liz takes the limelight by ripping off her cropped t-shirt―

Fuqin Damn! ·

Always loved her tanned tits!

And, ‘they’ do too.

Realizing that they’ve been out-played, Tenille and Grace remove their PJ tops without any fanfare.

DaFuq? ·

What’s Rubes doing?

Nothing.

She left the last two buttons intact…

and waited.

Now, seeing the others topless, she continues her unbuttoning―

DaFuq?

She’s wearing the matching bra to her panty and garter set.

Cheeky vixen!

Instead of unfastening the bra, she pulls the mesh covering her nipples off.

She planned this ·

Premeditated ·

Perforated the mesh so she could seductively pull it off.

She’s smug,

knowing that the frame of her bra highlights her breasts over the others.

Rubes is getting bolder ·

More cunning ·

She outplayed Liz!

My core-four are causing a frenzy of emojis from my patrons,

the ‘over-the-top-of-the-table’ streaming becoming the ‘Booby Cam.’

I add a quick banner below the ‘Booby Cam’

Rate each set of Tits!

‘They’ don’t have to be asked twice!

But there’s only four sets of perky breasts in view.

If the twins had just ripped their tops off, like the others, this wouldn’t be so painful.

But they waited…

and I also know that the Twins are wearing those ‘Hello L.A. Girls’ embroidered underwire bras beneath their tops:

two barriers to remove.

Yet despite the fact that they are still wearing PJ tops, the twins are still scoring points on the ‘Boobymeter.’

“Now come on, birthday girls,” I coax, keeping my tone light,

“take off your pajama tops, please?

We’re all friends here,

and we’ve all seen each other’s bits before.

There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

The Twins murmur nervously as they slowly unbutton their tops…

partially revealing their pretty ‘Hello L.A. Girls’ bras…

unease painting their faces…

dropping their PJ tops fully.

“And now…

the bras?” I prompt.

Worry and fear mar their faces.

I need to coax them gently.

“A and E, what’s the problem? T, L, R, and G are topless.”

“Y-you-you’re all ··· b-buxom,” Emy stammering, her cheeks pink, and Amy completing, her stuttering voice barely a whisper.

Their insecurities hit me immediately.

What they are saying is not reality, but to them—being almost flat chested—even B cup tits must seem enormous.

But this isn’t the time for arguments;

I need to be supportive:

“Every body type is normal,” I say softly, meeting their eyes.

“You girls are Filipina.

You have slim bodies,

so, your breasts are naturally smaller…

but they perfectly complement your body.

And for the record:

small boobs?

Totally sexy, too.”

Their eyes widened, pink cheeks deepening to crimson.

“Really??” They both murmur, a flicker of belief creeping into their voices.

“Really,” I reply firmly, giving them a reassuring smile.

‘They’—my clients—like me because I have big boobs and a wide ass. But skinny girls like the twins, with their petite frames and tiny tits, are just as popular, since they give off a prepubescent ‘too young’ taboo vibe, even though they are adults.

My top subscribers love the scenes of the shy and reticent Twins that I’m giving them,

The ‘Boobymeter’ is on overdrive…

and the lower tier subscribers will be able to log in shortly,

and they’re in for a treat!

But first, I’ve got a bit of work—persuasion—to do, to get my besties ‘ready’ for when I go live to all my fans:

“Yep. To be braless—topless—that’s the ultimate expression of feminine positivity,” I say, flashing them a confident smile. “Isn’t that what your favorite celebs are always preaching?”

“Y-yes!!” they reply, almost in unison, though still hesitant.

“Well, then, release the girls!” I laugh lightly, trying to keep the mood upbeat.

But they’re still reluctant.

It’s time for a different type of coaxing.

“L?” I glance over at Liz, who catches my cue perfectly.

Liz and I have planned tonight perfectly, and she knows what to do. With a mischievous grin, Liz grabs ‘that’ bag from behind her, pulling out a sleek black box. She sets it down on the coffee table with a dramatic flourish, flipping the lid open.

“With the gifts in this box,” she says, emptying the contents onto the short-but-long coffee table in front of them, “you can be suitably clothed like the main character.”

Strewn across the coffee table, there is an assortment of nipple tyes, covers, pasties, rings, and clamps.

Liz swoops in, aiming for the matching ‘top’ to her waist chain, but Rubes is too quick.

“Hey!” Liz protests, “You know that’s mine!”

“Then you shouldn’t have added it with the rest. Everything was up for grabs…

and I grabbed.”

Liz is fuming.

But maintains her composure as Tenille and Grace each pick a pair of nipple clamps,

“Tell you what,” Rubes offers, “I’ll let you play for it. But if I win, I get to wear both your pieces, and you must ‘perform’ for us.”

“Oh?” Liz smiles, “Well, if it’s a bet you want, if I win you have to wear what I give you.”

“Okay,” Rubes agrees, “but only if I get to choose the game.”

“What game do you want?”

“I saw one on ‘LureVibe’—the ‘Cum Face’ party game.”

“Ah!” Liz exclaims, recognition registering over her face.

She closes her eyes for three moments,

and then reaches into that magic bag of hers…

pulling out the game.

“That’s it!”

Clearing the long table, Liz and Rubes kneel on the floor opposite each other, the game between them.

Grace holds the cellphone, relaying the footage back to my website, as Tenille counts down, “Three…

two…

Go!”

Both girls go at it, their right hands furiously rubbing the plastic cocks in front of them. Yeah, it’s clear Rubes has been practicing.

But Liz is the most experienced of my core four, and her cock spurts first, just a fraction of a second before fake jizz splatters Rubes’s face.

“Now, pass it over, bitch,” Liz chuckles.

“Fine,” handing it over, disappointed, but resigned, “what do you want me to wear?”

“You surprised me, Rubes. Perhaps you’re ready for the next level. In the meantime, you can wear this necklace.”

“This,” holding the pretty chain, “is my punishment?”

“It’s not punishment,” Liz corrects, helping Rubes put the chain around her neck. “Oh, you missed some,” her finger scooping fake jizz off Rubes’s breast. “I never noticed before, your nipples…

they’re quite pretty.”

“Th-thank you,” Rubes taken aback.

“And very erect,” massaging the fake jizz into the right nipple…

rubbing―up and down―the length of both nipples…

Rubes bites her lip.

“Ready for the next part?”

“The next?”

Liz’s hand goes into her bag…

pulling out a closed hand…

then revealing Lovense’s Ferri and Gemini bundle.

“Wow! You knew?”

“I listened. Here, hold this,” giving Rubes Lovense’s Ferri.

As Rubes clutches it with glee, Liz attaches the white body of Lovense’s Gemini to the necklace…

the pink clamps hanging down between Rubes’s boobs.

“Thank you,” plucking Lovense’s Ferri from Rubes’s hands,

pulls at Rubes’s panties…

pulling them open…

rubbing her pussy with lubricated fingers…

positioning Lovense’s Ferri perfectly,

securing it with the magnetic cap.

“Now attach them, Rubes…

at least you’ll get some enjoyment before the rest of us!”

As Rubes secures each clamp of Lovense’s Gemini to her nipples, Liz puts into place her own nipple clamps.

“Uh-ah!” clearing my throat. “Girls…

it’s topless time, not nipple-free time.”

“My nipples aren’t free,” Liz giggles, “they’re clamped.”

“I know, and there will be a time for that…

but right now, it’s nipple cover time!”

Moans erupt from my core four, who have already attached their favorite ornaments.

But ‘they’ don’t mind…

‘they,’ the Twins, and I, watch as my BFFs fiddle with their clamps and tyes…

reverting to their fully topless portraits.

“Damn,” Rubes mumbles, as she tries to remove the body of Lovence’s Gemini from the necklace, “I didn’t even get the chance―”

“You’re exempt,” Liz states.

“I am?”

This wasn’t part of the plan.

They’re all supposed to be wearing nipple covers.

But. it’s the nature of these events where scripts aren’t fully followed.

My core four know that I’m in charge…

when I’m with them.

But I’m not.

Liz and the girls are in Florida,

and I can’t undermine Liz.

I won’t undermine Liz.

“It’s okay Rubes,” I confirm, “Liz’s rules!”

Rubes is ecstatic, reattaching Lovense’s Gemini clamps to her nipples…

further realizing that the others want their nipples exposed and clamped…

that she’ll be unique on the website.

Plus, the body of the Gemini is white!

Rubes appears to enjoy her newfound attention.

The game leaves the table,

as the nipple decoration collection replaces it―

my topless core four (minus one) rush to pick their choices,

leaving just three pairs of adhesive nipple covers on the table.

The Twins are obviously embarrassed by it all but are a little emboldened by their friends who are already wearing them. Encouraged, the Twins go to pick a matching pair of nipple covers—

“No,” Emy starts, “we need ··· the same color ··· and pink!!” their words flowing as if rehearsed, finishing seamlessly and in unison.

I raise an eyebrow, feigning exasperation.

“But there’s only three colors left: red, silver, and white,” I pretend to complain. “And how can ‘they’ tell you two apart? Honestly, you’re fuqin identical!”

The Twins exchange worried glances. “But ··· ??”

“How about we make a deal?” I offer.

They lean in cautiously. “What kind of deal??”

“You both wear different color nipple covers. Or…”

I pause for dramatic effects.

“… you share the colors…

and agree to have your pussy shaved.”

“What??” They exclaim, their voices a mix of shock and horror.

“No ··· way! ··· We can’t!!”

“Fine, then. E can have the—”

“No!” Amy cuts in, grabbing both sets of covers.

“We’ll ··· share!!” they agree together.

Amy hands a red and silver piece to her sister.

“But the wax ··· won’t it ··· hurt??”

“Not at all,” I assure them, keeping my tone light.

“It’s easy.

Trust me.”

“And we’ll be ··· the same?”

“Of course,” I lie.

Relieved, though still slightly awkward, the Twins fumble with the covers…

trying to attach them whilst still wearing their ‘Hello L.A. Girl’ pink lace underwire corsets.

Their cautious expressions soften as they finally manage to secure them in place.

Still very self-conscious ·

I can understand their insecurities.

Despite them having turned twenty-one years old, their AA cup titties have given them a complex about their bodies…

that can’t be overcome in one day…

but, today is as good as any day to make a start,

and hopefully my enthusiasm will help.

Perhaps they’ll even appreciate the attention they could receive with small tits that make them appear as prepubescent.

Especially with shaved cunts.

Or cunt.

Some guys like them hairy and I want my website to appeal to patrons of ‘differing tastes.’

It is taking a while, but they’re slowly getting ready for their ‘debut.’

Finally, those two bras drop—

Drawing a round of encouragement from the group.

And the emojis start flooding in,

thick and fast.

The twins ratings go through the roof!

Fuqin goldmine!

“He swallowed…

several times…

his Adam’s apple moving up and down.

The net was cast.

Now to draw him in.”

“Oh God!” Rubes squeals.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

The Echelon is an ancient society, predating—by a long way—even the most ancient of existing Sapien Ord cultures, the Australian Indigenous tribes. Thus, it makes sense that the Echelon would also be steeped in tradition.

One of those traditions is that of the ‘merge-mate’, our version of betrothals and arranged marriages. It has been called different names over multiple millennia: at times, the ‘meld’ or the ‘fusion,’ and probably many other names in languages long forgotten. But it’s been called the ‘merge’ for over a century.

The process itself doesn’t imply a union of hearts but rather a biological function. I am merely a vessel for fertilization, to bring about the next generation of Sentinels. It has nothing to do with love—it’s not romantic—merge-mates are expected to ‘perform the act’ at the Citadel, in full public view.

That said, it’s not forbidden for merge-mates to fall in love.

Many do.

But love is not the primary purpose.

Or so I’ve been told.

Within ten minutes of receiving that ‘Merge Notice,’ I got my first photo from him—a gym picture—wearing Skinzwear’s ‘Classic Physique Posing Trunks’ whilst showing off his muscles… and that golden bangle.

And yes, I was smitten.

Pedro, like my brother, is seven years older than me. And getting pictures—when I was eighteen—of this handsome and muscular twenty-five-year-old Archareos, I admit I was infatuated by him.

At least initially.

It became clear, very quickly, however, that he was a vacuous, self-centered idiot.

I tell him about my body image issues—

he sends me a dietary plan along with an attached fitness regime.

I tell him I’m asexual—

he sends me what he calls ‘dicpics.’

I express my need for a deeper emotional connection with him—

he starts talking about all the ways he will publicly breed with me on our ‘Merge Day.’

It’s a losing battle.

Though I have no libido or sexual drive of any sort—I never have—I offered coitus last year prior to the one week of the year when he was allowed to visit our home/compound. I prepared myself—physically and mentally—for the ordeal.

That week came.

And it went.

During the entire week he was in my home, he never approached me. Not a single rose or romantic gift. No ‘Let’s hold hands and get to know each other while we watch the sunset’; not even a simple ‘Hi, how are you?’

I never saw him.

For the entire week.

‘Des knows where he went, but it certainly wasn’t to my bed. I neither saw nor heard from him.

Then, once he left and went back to his home, he started sending me sexts all over again.

Like, ‘What the ‘dess is wrong with you?’

He has this twisted idea that my asexuality can be fixed.

‘Turned on’ is his exact phrase of words.

And thinks that sending me naked pictures of himself—with nothing but that golden bangle—will do it.

Recently, he’s been ramping it up, with numerous hand-held videos of himself in the gym:

Posing…

flexing…

in his metallic electric blue ‘Skinzwear’ micro fitted pouch;

Or those more explicit scenes:

Working out—

dropping his shorts—

walking naked with that gleaming golden bangle—

masturbating his semi-erect penis with Lovense’s Kraken—

fornicating with an unknown…

At least, an unknown to me.

In his most recent sext:

Pedro filmed his posing in a mirror,

wearing nothing more than Skinzwear’s ‘A14 splitting running shorts.’

“Is that for your girlfriend?”

his cell phone turns―

bringing into view a pretty brunette.

She smiles,

takes his cell phone from him.

She records his face,

cell phone travelling down to his shorts…

shorts she pulls down

Filming―

his soft penis;

his mouth receiving a piece of Coklitka.

She hands the cell back

His cell phone follows her.

Her hands―

offer him Lovense’s Diamo…

massaging his still drooping shaft, and scotum, with lubricant…

stretching the flexible ring over his ‘junk’…

positioning the Lovense’s Diamo motor on top of his penis…

rolling a condom over his cock…

showing him her cell phone…

turning on his vibrating Diamo!

He keeps recording.

She ―

touches straps of her blue green ‘Yeoreo Liza V-Back Romper’…

pulling them off her shoulders…

down to her hips.

He―

trains the cell phone onto her breasts;

utters profanities.

She―

turns her back to him…

bends forward…

pushes her ‘Yeoreo’ Romper downwards.

He―

“Fuck, yeah,”

zooming into her waxed genitalia.

She―

gets down on all fours…

head touching the yoga mat…

derriere raised and exposed…

legs spreading…

her hand appearing between her legs…

touching her own exposed and swollen genitalia…

a moist index finger gesturing him to come.

It’s clear that this was consensual:

his videography…

her invitation.

And there was no hesitation on his part:

He and his ever-hardening appendage approaches…

down on all fours…

licking her vulva…

his shaft fully stiff…

lining up his ….

to hers…

pushing the latex-covered head in slowly…

slamming himself into her.

And then sent it to me.

Unedited.

Unmuted.

In its entirety

Him grunting—

her moaning.

Her squishing—

his balls audibly slapping.

“Fuck!” as she orgasms first.

Twice, “God, that’s good!”

Thrice, “Damn it! More!

Oh?”

Body quivering.

“Cumming again!”

Quadrice.

“Fuckkkk!”

Her face twists around, “What’s taking so long? Fuck me, dammit! Pull it off! Give it to me!”

He swifly pulls out,

rips off the condom,

shoves himself in.

He drops the cell to hold her…

hands on her hips…

gripping her tightly…

securing her in place…

thrusting hard―

“Hurry,” she begs, “I’m about to―”

“God!!” juddering together.

And I watched it all.

Heard it all.

Why?

‘Des only knows.

Perhaps, deep down, I want that same orgasmic reaction.

On some level, I still want to scream for him.

But would I ever be enough for him?

Does he think this video will make him more appealing to me? ·

Am I supposed to become more endeared to him because of his penetratives with randoms? ·

Worse, that he didn’t have to be asked twice ·

He ejaculated into her without a second thought ·

What does that say about him? ·

And ·

How does he think I feel about myself, when he’s only engaging with skinny girls, and I’m so obviously the opposite of thin? ·

And now that I’m—

‘DUTALA!’

‘Des ·

He’s probably heard the news ·

And I can’t avoid him forever.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

My Story

“He was more than a head taller than me, gawking down at my breasts. I placed his right hand under my left boob, and looked up at his eyes, opened my mouth slightly, as I licked my lips. Then I looked down at my candy-swirl pastie covered nipple, and back up to his stare.

He took the bait, his head moving down, devouring my entire edible pastie covered nip and pepperoni in a glorious explosion of painful pleasure. I didn’t have long because he wasn’t being gentle; not at all. I could feel my nipples already dripping, making the pasties loose. If I wasn’t fast enough, he was going to get a good mouthful, and lose his will―”

“This is still just a ‘story’ ··· isn’t it?” Amy cutting in, with Emy finishing the question.

“Twins! That’s for you to decide at the end of the story. But do I have magic milk? I know it’s unbelievable, but I will confirm: a year back, I pulled out my boob, squeezed the nipple, and spiked P’s shake with my shimmering titty-juice. After she drank it, I commanded P to buy L a Tesla. Hey L, not my fault you’re a bad driver. What’s even funnier,” I giggle, “is that Tesla was computer driven. How could you possibly crash it?”

Liz laughs, head in her hands, the others laughing with her.

“Further proof Twins? Remember last summer’s holiday we had with both our parents? After they ate a small bowl of glimmering ice cream, I instructed them to get naked and do the Macarena—funny as fuq—but here’s the point: the ice cream was made from my breast milk.

My magical titty-shake.

Perhaps that’s why it was our one and only joint family holiday, and probably why your parents didn’t invite me to Florida!”

What I don’t tell Emy or Amy—or Rubes—is that on that same night, in the wee hours of the morning, I heard a noise—faint, even with my hearing—and I snuck out of the room I was sharing with them and followed the sound…

down to the basement…

to the MAGA den…

and found their step-dad―Rubes’s father―slapping his thick snake to some porno he had on.

Yeah, he’s a MAGA-dick,

but he had needs.

I could feel his frustration…

his desire for more.

And when I feel another’s sexual cravings…

it’s hard to resist.

I knew what he wanted:

I wasn’t his devoutly religious wife…

I could offer more than just ‘missionary.’

And seeing my three cock-holes that I paraded in front of him…

he accepted.

He pleasured me with his tongue…

licking…

tasting…

consuming….

and heard his confessions.

I aimed to give ‘Uncle Freddy’ my full multi-phase repertoire, starting with the obligatory head job. But I had only started phase two, reverse-cowgirl bouncing on his schlong a couple of times, as he pinched and slapped my phat ass―

when their mom—his wife—Viv (Aunty V) discovered us.

He was promptly ordered out, and was, literally, in the doghouse for the rest of the weekend.

And I thought that was the end of me getting some.

But the antics at dinner must have shaken her inhibitions, and what she did with me that night…

No, the Twins aren’t in a place to hear the truth about their ‘conservative’ mother ·

Nor Rubes about me with her dad.

And I can’t tell them, or the others, anyway, because…

Because I broke the rules.

Again.

Instead, I say, “There’s plenty more stories, and more erotic ones. So don’t fight it Twins, it is what it tits, sorry, ‘is.’

But it was the diversion I needed. As he ‘went at it’ I pushed his trousers down, and then freed his dick from his box—”

“Hey” Grace interrupts, “that was a dick opportunity.”

“Yep, and you missed it. Anyway, you’ve all had about five shots already, and we’re not even close to halfway thro—”

“Dick-dick-dick,” all chanting together, “dick-dick-dick-di―”

“Fine,” I give in, “they’re not full strength anyway!”

They all grab a shot glass, skoling.

“I then rubbed his throbbing cock—”

“COCK!!!!!!” laughing, high fiving, grabbing their shot glasses, skoling

That’s their seventh ·

Note to self ·

Start using ‘it’ ·

They’re getting too drunk.

“I rubbed ‘it’ up and down. He was super hard, and his teeth were about to chew off my nipple pastie—no time to lose.

‘Bite my neck.’

His greedy mouth went straight to my neck just as the luminous liquid started pouring down under both partially loosened nipple stickers.

Whew, BFF’s, it was close!

Moving his teeth to my neck brought his body a whole lot closer. As he kissed my neck between the choker and my left ear—

I unhooked the packet—

ripped the condom out—

rolled it over his pe—”

“PE-NIS!!!!!!” rocking into each other with unfettered hilarity, skoling.

Fuq!

“But his six-incher was—”

“SIX IN-CHER!!!!!!”

Dammit!

“What the Fuck?” Grace demands. “If this is a fictional story, why only make it six?”

“G, it’s a fiction with a touch of reality.”

“Fuck reality… give him a big one!”

“Yeah!!!!!”

Refilling their shot glasses in preparation.

“Fine!

But his twelve—”

“TWELVE IN-CHER!!!!!!”

“… was in line to jab my abs.

If I was half a foot shorter, I’d be giving him a tittyjob!

Hands on the sink bench, I pushed myself up, to sit on the edge of the countertop, my hot red taco now ‘level’ with his cockhead—”

“COCK!!!!!!” laughing, reaching for their shot glasses.

“No,” I correct them, “I said ‘cockhead!’ Put them back.”

Laughing and moaning, they begin to comply—

“COCK-HEAD!” yells Tenille

“COCK-HEAD!!!!!!”

Fuq ·

Tenille’s certainly back to normal!

“The action draws him closer as I spread my thighs.”

And I spread my thighs for the audience above.

“His wrapped purple-headed swollen—”

“COCK!!!!!!” grabbing shot glasses, swilling it down quickly, laughing and bumping each other.

FUQQQ!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

“Hey Pedro,” I say, trying to sound carefree and upbeat, “what’s up?”

“Hey, congrats.”

“What for?” I ask, though I already have a feeling.

If I act indifferent, perhaps he’ll leave me alone ·

Though that strategy never worked in the past.

“Your assessment! It means our Merge Day is just around the corner.”

But I know how the system works.

New Sentinel’s spend their first few decades in the field before they Merge.

I’ll have to let him down gently.

“Pedro” I sigh, “I’ll be on assignment for two decades at least be―”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Celia. Your brother failed and ran away. I failed, and now I’m just an Echelon guard. What makes you think you are better than us?”

He’s got a fair point. I’ve only been training for a year—since I was eighteen. Most Archarios train from the age of five, with their test at twenty-five, and many still fail. I’m way underprepared.

He takes a few seconds while I ponder my impending failure, before continuing, “So, now’s the time.”

“What?”

“It’s always a one-way street with you, isn’t it?

Silence

“I keep putting out, making myself vulnerable, and you leave me hanging.”

I think he means that I’m keeping his ‘dessing erectile ‘hanging’…

“For God’s sake, we’re about to fuck in public! Surely you can give me something in private! Can’t you?”

OMDESS ·

It always comes back to this!

“You keep promising!” he reminds, yet again.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

My Story

“‘It’ was knocking at the door of my ‘Skinzwear’ clad red-hot muffin, ‘Kiss me!’

He straightened up.

And as I reached my mouth to his, I entwined my legs around his backside and began to pull his body in…

as I pushed aside my panties…”

The golden hooks of my panties are released, showing my patrons—looking down—my own red-hot muffin, then continuing:

“guiding his throbbing rod—”

“ROD!” Grace blurts out.

They all look at each other.

“ROD!!!!!!” All laughing hysterically, grabbing their shot glasses, skoling before I can complain.

And I really don’t want to complain.

Having the Twins inebriated is all part of the plan; an essential step towards their 21st Birthday gift.

“Okay, settle down.”

Still giggling? ·

I need more composure.

“I said, ‘I pushed aside my panties!’ Hah!” giggling as I watch the Twins’ mouths open in disbelief, as they look around at their friends…

friends with hands under the table.

And ‘they’ see, too:

Black gloved hands going to Tenille’s panties, pulling the opening wider, giving a great view.

White dotted mesh gloves pull on Rube’s panties―and Lovense’s still-vibrating Ferri―pulling them aside, as a gloved index finger points to her glistening swollen slit.

Rubes isn’t shy today!

Fingers with red-colored nails expertly adjusts one of the belts on Grace’s panties, loosening them enough to pull the metal decorated pair to one side.

But the Twins’ hands cover their crotch.

That sobered them up a little.

“Not drunk enough yet, I see, E and A? I’ll let this one…

‘slide,’” roaring with laughter, “but that’s my only concession. Agreed?”

The Twins nod in sober agreement.

“That was a terrible pun, though,” Grace suggests.

“Dafuq G?”

But I love her involvement, and ‘they’ appreciate her playful fingers…

and Liz.

Liz—naturally—still outshines the others with her exposure,

undoing the chain around her waist…

gently dropping the chain and dangling gem onto the floor,

showing off her perfectly tanned pussy,

using her hands to open her pinkness to the unseen audience…

from her bag, extracts a giant pink and black cock,

“This is what a twelve-incher looks like,”

pushing the ‘LureVibe’ horse-shaped cock into her vagina,

pushing…

all the way,

making those ‘noises’ that turn ‘them’ on.

Grace is no prude, but she still can’t hold a light to Liz’s exhibition.

Yeah ·

Fuqin Pussy feed on overtime!

“I steered the bulbous tip into my swollen wetness.”

They all look at each other, giggling, reaching for their refilled glasses, holding them in the air, “TIP!!!!!!” laughing, skoling

I wait.

And wait.

And wait for the merriment to subside.

“Umm, carrying o—”

“TIP!!!! TIP!!!!”

I scrutinize the screen trying to work out what is happening.

Oh ·

Liz is happening.

Liz is sitting on the short coffee table, with her naked back to the camera–and my footage of her–but I can see that her legs are spread, and Tenille has her head in Liz’s crotch

Tenille really is back in the thick of things.

I don’t need to guess what Liz and Tenille are doing:

Liz probably pushed a full vertical shot glass into her slit, and Tenille has her mouth on the rim, pushing as she tips the glass, the glass slowly becoming horizontal as she pushes it into Liz’s vag as the vodka pours down Tenille’s throat.

I can guess what’s happening, because…

I taught them that.

And I smile proudly

FUQ! ·

I’m supposed to have it in my hand already.

There’s no need to panic though, and quickly grab my secondary cell phone—from the organizer hanging from the bed—and send Grace a text:

“Get them to do it again—this time for the footage!”

This will be a perfect addition to tonight’s performance and gives me the opportunity to prepare.

While the girls are going at it, I take ‘them’ from their hiding place under the blanket, setting ‘them’ beside me, to take my own ‘show and tell’ to the next level.

My attention switches back to the website, as I watch the spectacle repeated, and the emojis flooding in.

As things settle down, the girls are back in their cross-legged sitting positions on the carpet.

My girlfriends are watching me…

as are ‘they:’

me, holding a realistic, flesh-colored dildo.

I rip the condom package, showing my expertise as I roll the black latex—from ‘Love Aura―one handed, over the fake cock.

Penis in hand, I position the cockhead at the entrance of my vagina, pressed up against it:

“His hard mouth crushed my lips as my lips swallowed his shaft—”

“SHAFT!” yells Liz

“SHAFT!!!!!!” all laughing, raising their shot glasses, skoling

Fuq Liz ·

I need them to be at least a little coherent!

But I know that seeing six partially-dressed hotties getting drunk is great viewing, and the responses have been phenomenal. There is one audience—but three screens:

the booby view ‘above’ the table;

the naughty pussy cam ‘below’ the table;

and me, holding the realistic cock…

and shoving it in:

“Oh fuq it felt good!

Too good, coz instinctively, I used my hands to push my ass off the counter and push downwards, thrusting his dick—”

“DICK!!!!!!” grabbing their shot glasses, downing the fluid.

I’m not going to fuqin fight it!

“Oh, the condom’s mint cooling flooded me as the veined pulsating penis went in deep—and almost reached my aching spot…”

The cock’s inserted all the way in, but it’s only a small five inches insertable—and it’s fake—and non-vibrating. Though it’s not meant for extreme pleasure, it is hitting the other thing inside me, and that is making me horny…

but this isn’t meant for my gratification, but for that of my hedonistic voyeuristic audience.

“Almost.

It was so close.

I was desperate now.

I couldn’t wait for him.

I shoved my hole into him harder… deeper.”

I repeat the action, for my streaming audience, pulling it almost all the way out…

then shoving it in again…

“Impaling myself onto his thick johnson—”

“JOHN-SON!!!!!!”

impaling myself with the dildo…

“Hitting that G-spot.

Fuq, that felt good. I needed more.

I drove my pussy up and down his veined shaft—”

“SHAFT!!!!!!”

sliding the dildo in and out of my vagina…

“like a jackhammer.”

“JACK-HAM-MER!!!!!!”

like a jackhammer…

“Thumping my pleasure point again and again.”

thumping myself with the fake cock.

“Finally, he got the idea starting to thrust on his own.

‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,’ he chanted.

And in three thrusts, he came.

DAFUQ?

Still shuddering, he looked at me, eyes of horror, ‘Oh god.’

holding his shaft—”

“SHAFT!!!!!!”

“holding ‘it’ above the condom sheath”

I hold the fake cock, the shaft between the fake balls and the condom

“‘Oh god,’ jerking his pecker—”

“PEC-KER!!!!!!”

“jerking ‘it’ out as jizz spurted everywhere…”

I push the button on the shaft of the fake penis…

and rip it out―

its fake jizz—thick and opaque— is squirting over me…

into the air.

“‘Oh god,’ tugging up his trousers over the hard, spitting erection—”

“E-REC-TION!!!!!!”

“‘Oh god.’

turned

opened the door

and fled

Gone.

He left.

Left me.

Alone.

Proof,” I smile broadly at the group on my cell phone, holding up the fake cock—minus latex condom—covered in its own fake jizz, “that you can get to fourth base and still strike out.”

The girls laugh with me.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

Ahh ·

My promise.

I grimace.

I only promised to get him off my back because he keeps harassing me about sexting.

And ‘Des knows he’s sent a truck load to me…

and I’ve kept putting it off.

I’m not necessarily against sexuality or even sensual videos.

Mom—for the last six months—has been teaching me seduction techniques through her bizarre ‘mind-meld’ exercises: our minds melded with other people’s minds while they are being intimate.

Or, more accurately, I’m sure that my mind is only melded with one person:

a woman.

A young woman.

A very promiscuous young woman…

at least that’s what I glean from the amount of times mom has melded me to her mind.

I don’t know who she is, but her mannerisms, thought patterns… always the same.

Though not her techniques to seduce.

If it is one person I’m always melded to, she is very experienced.

But they have no effect on me because my body is sexually illiterate; nothing turns me on;

I have no feelings…

or desires.

I’ve tried to masturbate a few times, but I’m orgasmically barren;

there is a part of me that does desire intimacy—my mind—but my body feels nothing.

And I’ve told him that.

And I tell him again, “Pedro—nothing’s changed.”

“And I disagree. I think it is just about perspective.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like the Gym.”

This again?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Twins

“So ··· Is that it?” Emy and Amy equally dissatisfied and disappointed.

“No, Twins,” giggling, “how can it be? We’re only half-way through the story, ‘coz I had a condom full of jizz stuck in my vajayjay,” flicking the black latex still stuck in my vagina, “and my nipple pasties were peeling off!

Of course, I should have expected this, I thought, as I pulled off the ruined pasties, and wiped the dazzling milky residue from my nipples.

Heh-hum!

The pasties were ruined!

So, I took them off!”

I don’t have any nipple covers to remove―still wearing my nipple clamps―so I grab the ‘exhausted’ dildo and give it a good licking.

I notice some of the fake jizz on my hairless mound.

I scoop it with my index finger, showing it to my fans above…

put the edible cum on my extended tongue…

exaggerating my enjoyment!

My four unrepressed friends gleefully remove their nipple covers, replacing each with their favorite: Tneille with ‘Tyes by Tara,’ Grace opting for ‘Deegnx’ nipple clips, and Liz for that ‘Ozgaga’ companion nipple clamps…

The white Thyye clamps were originally for Rubes…

but she’s still loving Lovense’s Gemini!

Amy and Emy just look at each other, horrified.

But this is for their own growth, so I can’t relent.

“I gave you one concession, and you both accepted.

You’ve got used to the bare breasts with nipple pasties, now be brave:

time to take them off.

Remember, ‘Free the nipple’ is a movement for everyone.”

Even if those nipples are clamped · chuckling to myself.

But I see the reluctance in the Twins, in their faces, and they turn to each other whimpering, their hands covering each nipple cover.

DaFuq? ·

Are they seriously going to cry?

Lucky for me I’ve factored in all possible scenarios.

“Okay, Twins, how ‘bout I make things a little easier?”

There’s no point being draconian ·

Some things just take time.

Especially if you’ve grown up in a repressive, religious household like the Twins have been.

But like their mother, I am certain that underneath that façade of puritanism, there is a raging sexaholic, just waiting to be unleashed.

But for the moment, I choose to relent:

“Tell you what, you can leave them on, okay?” They nod.

“L?”

I see the leggy and tanned Liz—through the video feed—entering the bedroom from the master bathroom, and showing plenty of skin as she wears her open crotch jewelry—with that pretty clit gem, her serpent jewelry, ornamental face mask and heels—while carrying two bowls of water…

and at the sight of her, the emojis are going crazy.

Liz places the bowls on the short-but-long coffee table and then resumes her place, legs crossed, sitting on the carpet next to the others.

“Birthday girls,” I address them, “it’s almost time. The story isn’t finished, and we’re about to go live.”

I glance up at the camera mounted on the ceiling, offering a playful smile, a thumbs up, blowing a kiss.

“Th-that’s a camera??” The Twins stammer in unison.

I can hear the fear in their voices.

“I said this would happen if I was interrupted too often.”

“Oh god!!”

“Don’t worry, Twins, that’s what the mask is for: to hide your identity. Sometimes anonymity is empowering.”

And lowers inhibitions.

“Please make sure your masks are fastened well.”

“W-why??” they stutter.

“Because in the story I’m not wearing panties…

and you are…

and because we’re going live…

and there are spectators…

and they’ve paid good money…

to see your pussy!”

“We thought you were ··· only joking ··· about that??”

“No.”

“OMG!! ··· She’s filming a Porno ··· starring us ··· with our parents ··· in the next ··· room!!”

“L? Perhaps you can help them relax?”

“Relax??” retort the Twins together. “We’re going ··· to see ··· our Mom!!”

They try to rise, but there are solid hands on their shoulders stopping them from getting up.

“HEY!! THAT’S N—”

Cock gag forces into Amy’s mouth―

Lips gag shoves into Emy’s―

“MMMPH!” as Amy tries to shout.

“MY M―”

the stopper closing the hole.

Liz grabs her bag,

pulls out a blister pack,

pops two pills each into two shot glasses,

filling them with vodka,

stirs each,

and then turns to the Twins who have been forced to lay on their back:

“This is your Birthday celebration.

It was supposed to be fun.

It can still be fun,” showing them the two shot glasses.

“You can have these…

if you promise not to scream when I take off the gag.”

They both nod.

I watch the website on my widescreen:

The Twins are laying back on the cushions wearing nothing but bunny face masks, gags, nipple covers, and those ‘Hello L.A. Girls’ pink lace panties, not to mention cute socks and pink stilettos.

Their slim Filipina bodies being held down by two topless busty hotties, while another two practically naked college girls hold a shot glass each—my website is going wild with emojis flying off the keyboards.

The gags are removed, but they don’t scream,

accepting the glasses,

skolling the shots, “Oooh!!···Aaah!!”

“How do you feel, now?” I ask them.

Both are smiling from ear to ear, replying “Sooooo ··· gooood! Did we ··· act ··· well??”

“Sshhhush!” Liz whispering, “we’re still acting!”

“Oh??” whispering back, “Sorry!!”

Fuqin Dammit ·

Stupid sluts ·

Couldn’t even keep a roleplay gangbang going.

But I am pleased:

they followed the script pretty well, and they behaved as Liz and I expected in the places they were required to ad-lib.

At least up to this point.

Note to myself ·

More violent role plays are in order ·

With better actors than the Twins.

While my fans thought the violence was real, the emojis went through the roof.

But the revelation that it was all an act instantly brings an immediate reduction of emoji reaction…

and an increase of negative posts.

I must win them back.

“As I was saying Twins, I wasn’t wearing any pan—”

Raising their bottoms off the floor, they pull off their panties.

DaFuq? ·

That was quick.

The ‘forcing’ was an act.

The relaxants given, were not.

And the effects of the alcohol—and they’ve had a lot—combined with the relaxants, have quickly turned their inhibitions off, no longer trying to hide their bits.

One of my core four—I don’t know who—has placed a small heater fan between each Twin’s legs, the fans blowing their pubes.

The Twins—loving the heat—have spread their legs a little wider.

As if on cue, Tenille grabs the cellphone and zooms the camera in, to see a closeup of the swaying pubic ‘forest’ hiding their sex.

Fuqin hell they’re hairy!

And this footage—the Twins’s hairy cunts on full close-up display—is restoring ‘their’ interest.

‘They’ may have been little upset discovering that most of what has occurred was scripted, but seeing their renewed interest, I know I can make it up to them.

“Twins?”

“Yes??”
“In the story I had a waxed pussy! It’s time, Twins.”

“Thank fucking god!!”

Dafuq? ·

Swearing? ·

That’s a first ·

Wanting to get shaved? ·

That’s not like them at all!

I grab my cell phone, and text Liz:

“What DaFuq did you give them?”

“Nothing—I just put sugar tablets in their drinks.”

Fuqin hell ·

Freud would have a field day with that!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

Pedro’s a gym junkie.

No matter the discussion—whether personal, political, or any other subject—he can always bring it back to some ‘gym lesson.’

I hate it.

But, as much as I do, I don’t tell him.

“Sometimes you gotta fake it before you make it.”

‘Dessing ‘Gymdom’ ·

Nah ·

Gymsplaining ·

I’ll pretend I’m clueless.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, sometimes in the gym I don’t feel like going in, but I go in anyway. And when I start lifting those weights, and visualizing the muscles, I want to be there!”

“And how is that like coition?”

“Why do you always have to use fancy words? It’s just sex, Cely. But sure, I don’t always feel like having sex.

The other night I was doing a 2 am sesh, and I was there alone, or I thought I was, and this chick interrupted me. Asked if I wanted some. Right then and there I wasn’t horny—plus I was dehydrated—but she wasn’t ugly. So, I told her I needed a drink first. I thought she was going to offer me her bottle, instead she took off her tight, ocean blue, ‘Yeoreo Clorisy High Waist Impact Shorts,’ laid down on an inclined sit-up bench, and spread her legs, showing me her dripping cunt, and said, ‘Drink’.

And you know, Cely, once I started licking her bits it didn’t take long to get a hard-on, and to fuck her up real good.

Dirty ‘dessing acolyte ·

I’m his betrothed ·

Does he have no decency?

“Don’t you see, Cely?

I want a relationship where I’m his first choice.

“‘If you don’t use it, you lose it!’”

Hate his gymsplain—’DES! ·

Did he? ·

I need to clarify.

“Does that mean if she was ugly you wouldn’t have, ah, urgh,”

I’ll use his lingo:

“fucked her up?”

“Cely! Even I have standards.”

And I see the plan unfold in my mind:

He wants to see what I’ve always chosen to hide ·

My disgusting body.

In the Echelon, the male has the prerogative to refuse a Merge-mate, the equivalent of an Ord divorce

Why didn’t I think of it sooner?

“Fine,” I say, pretending that I feel backed into a corner with no escape, “give me five tics and I’ll send you a video.”

“Thanks, Cely. Start the video from the top, with commentary about how you feel. The whole you this time, and sexy-like. Like you’ve been promising for years.”

“Commentary, eh? Impressive for this time of night.”

“I’m learning from you—now you need to start learning from me.”

“Okay, okay, don’t nag. Will send it when I’m finished.”

“See you soon!”

‘Click!’

That’s a terrible pun ·

But if he wants to see my body ·

That’s what I’m going to show him ·

And let’s watch him annul our Merge before it even happens!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Shave

My website is split three ways:

There is me on the left, where ‘they’ can see me ‘playing’ with the black latex condom still stuck in my cunt;

On the right side are the Twins—side-by-side—on the cushy yoga mats. But the vision of the Twins is divided between two overhead feeds: the top is the new ‘Booby vision’ and features both the Twins from the waist up, each head resting in a crotch: Amy on the left, her head in Rube’s lap, with Emy’s head in Tenille’s crotch.

The new ‘Pussy Cam’ features the pussies of both Twins as they lay side-by-side, Emy’s hairy pussy being prepped by Liz, while Grace is preparing the forest of a cunt that is Amy’s.

The two views of the Twins come from two different cellphones, each on a tripod posed at the perfect angle, with auto zooming.

I’m watching them with interest: since the blurting about the script, things have gone entirely pear-shaped.

The two bowls Liz bought out were supposed to be for the next scene:

the ‘wet panties’ incident.

Following the story where I take off my cum splattered panties, and wash them, and put them on again, Liz was supposed to give all the girls a pair of transparent panties, each dropping them in the bowls of water, wringing them out, and pulling them on: the wet panties, sticking—translucent—to their skin.

But that probably won’t happen now ·

Pear-shaped is the wrong word ·

We’re off script ·

But in a good way.

The bowls of water will now be used for shaving, and Liz produces two shavers from ‘that’ bag, handing one to Grace, who sits between Amy’s legs, while Liz goes to Emy.

They whisper to each other…

then get to work.

Tenille’s hands move from Emy’s face to her head, producing a brush…

attacking her mid-length hair.

Rubes copies, playing with Amy’s hair, also.

Liz briefly pauses…

mouths something to Tenille and Rubes…

reaches into ‘that’ bag…

pulls out two simple eye masks―red and silver…

handing to the ‘hairdressers’…

who seamlessly swap the bunny masks the new ones,

the Twins’s facial features―and their pretty Filipina coloring―more visible.

Since we’re off-script anyway…

“L? Perhaps we can have the presents today instead of tomorrow?”

“That is such a great idea.”

Of course it is ·

It’s my idea.

“Twins, would you like to choose your presents now?”

“Goooooody!!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

I promptly zip off my red driving jacket…

and now the heated vest…

unzip my blue greasy overalls…

pull my arms out of the long sleeves…

drop the overalls to my waist.

I reverse the cell phone camera so I can see myself.

But before I start the video, I’m conscious that I’m not going to be able to video myself while I’m trying to pull off my t-shirt, so I take that off first.

This won’t be a sexting video in the true sense of it, not like the ones he’s sent me, and not like he’s expecting: I’m not going to do anything erotic; I don’t want to turn him on. I’ll just show him my extreme body just as it is. I know he has a fixation for fitness, and my body is the opposite of everyone he is attracted to. So, my body should be a complete ‘turn-off’ for him.

With my T-shirt off, I push the recording button on the cell phone.

C’mon Celia ·

Make him despise you.

“So, Ped, from the top down, I have these ridiculously massively wide doe-eyes.”

That should be enough by themselves for him to dump me!

“But these,” one pull of my hand unknotting my ‘Yeoreo Dagnuy Ballet Wrap Sports Bra’

unwrapping it with one hand,

“these are bizarre silicon-like enhanced breasts, ugly fake-looking boobs…

with these wide deep red areolas and erect nipples, which makes everything about my top half ludicrous.

It’s just not normal, Ped, and makes being a mechanic really ‘dessing hard. I don’t care what you say about acceptance—as soon as I’m old enough I’m getting a breast reduction and plastic surgery.

Now,” unstrapping the padding around my midsection,

letting it fall to the floor,

“I have been working out, and sure, I love my abs, but this twenty-inch waist makes me look like a cartoon character, because,”

pushing down my overalls to the floor,

stepping out of them,

“I’m so ‘dessing wide. Ped, no matter how much I exercise, these hips never change. I even wear sauna suits! I know what you’re doing works for you but, honestly, I exercise all the time, and I’m dieting to the extreme—just an apple a day―nothing works!”

Oh ‘dess ·

Here it goes:

“Yeah, I know you keep sending me yours,” I pretend cough, “dicpics,” sighing loudly, “fine.”

I position the phone towards my panties.

“See the problem? Even if we could go to a beach? Nah! Do you think I would want you to see this?

Or your friends?

It’s just too embarrassing.”

Be brave Celia ·

It won’t be sensual to Ped.

I drop my panties to the floor, wearing nothing now but the eight golden bangles on my right wrist.

“I have, Pedro, the misfortune to have a puffy Labia Majora, with a clit hood erection and engorged Labia Minor hanging out… and they’re all crimson!

And…”

I make the angle of the phone more acute.

“no amount of exercise and dieting has altered my thick thighs.

Not one iota.

Now you know why I haven’t wanted to show you.

‘Dess, Pedro, I hate my body:

to have such extremes; this short frame with all these exaggerations of curves, topped with these bug eyes. I’m an ugly human platypus put together by some sick Dr Frakenpedo with a weird fetish for certain body parts” shaking my head.

“There!”

I send off the video.

But I don’t want to hear his excuses…

his lies.

I turn off the cell phone,

dropping it into the clothes basket,

confident:

That should do it ·

I’ll never hear from Pedro again!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The ‘Hair’

I think my patrons are forgiving me for the previous script-play, because it is quite clear that the twins have lost their shyness entirely

But I’ve ‘been’ with their mother ·

I know what happens when Viv is free ·

Seen it ·

Experienced her ·

Perhaps I should have expected this ·

Afterall, I have read their secret desires.

They don’t fight their hair being restyled, or their pussy being shaved…

they’re too busy, each fiddling with a tablet, choosing the outfits they want. The tablets have a protector screen on top, so neither Twin can see what the other is choosing.

We’ve all pitched in some money:

the girls get to choose five sets each―only one of which can be the soft pink color they love.

This might be boring for some.

I force-start the screensaver from its paused position,

adding a fourth view, a window below my top bunk bed-scene.

I’m on the pole,

going through my routine…

the camera pans out—

A subtle shift into a similar, but different imagery

the camera view concentrates on the base of the pole…

zooming in…

focusing on a pumping, vibrating, dildo attached to the floor.

Rubes brushing Amy’s hair, dividing it into two portions, while Tenille appears to be transforming Emy’s into…

I’m not sure what she’s doing.

Meanwhile, Grace is still shaving Amy with that tool…

though Liz is faster, giving the finishing touches to Emy, making her cunt ‘brazilian’ with a cute landing strip.

The buckle-bra has been pulled down under my exposed boobs, and I’m wearing a black mini fringe skirt with pole-dancing heels, as I pirouette around the pole, transitioning into a twisted grip squat (with the pole behind my body) positioned directly over the pumping dildo

The operation is nearing the end;

Rubes has given Amy cute ‘school-girl’ ‘pigtails,’ while Tenille has transformed Emy’s into a ‘sky high ponytail.’

And Grace is giving the finishing touches to Amy’s ‘hollywood’ mound.

Fuqin hell they were hairy!

And those bowls of warm water are a mess of floating dark pubic hairs

Who knew their slits were so cute under that forest?

Both girls look down, hands reaching down to touch their sister’s ‘differences’…

hands being slapped away as Liz and Grace massage soothing cream into the blushing shaven parts.

I squat lower…

slower…

descending upon the pumping machine,

the fringes of my skirt now billowing,

showing my pussy a bare inch from the thrusting cock…

then dropping down two inches—

“Oh Fuqqqq!”

Liz activates the camera on top of their widescreen.

The Twins―22 year old Filipinas― stand up,

hand in hand,

fully nude but for simple masks, nipple covers, and stilettos,

moving to stand in front of it,

watching themselves on my website…

admiring…

and so do ‘they.’

Instinctively the Twin’s gladly swap one nipple cover for the other, now wearing different colors.

Didn’t expect that!

Their feed is reduced to one:

Liz leads them to the top of the catwalk, outside the bathroom door…

Holding hands, side-by-side, they face the active catwalk cam, and

there are now obvious differences between the two:

Amy has pigtails, wears a silver mask, silver tassels over her nipples, has a fully shaved cunt, and wears silver stilettos.

Emy’s accessories are all red: mask, nipple covers, and stilletos. While her hair is styled into a ‘sky-high’ ponytail, and has a ‘landing strip’ above her shaved mound…

and they ‘do’ the walk.

“D??”

Oh?

“Yes, Twins?”

“We want to model ··· our birthday gifts ··· now!!”

DaFuq? ·

I’ve just got them to the point where they don’t care about being naked ·

And now they want to put clothes on? ·

Fuq ·

Double Fuq!

“Okay,” I relent, “but can I finish this section of the story first?”

Everyone agrees, all going back to their positions, sitting cross-legged at the coffee table, their side of the website reverting to the ‘Booby vision’ and the ‘Pussy feed’ streaming…

the Twins the only ones not wearing some form of panties.

I grab my cell phone controlling the feeds and add a thin line under the ‘Pussy feed,’ asking my fans to choose which of the twins is their favorite.

“L?”

Liz knows exactly where we are—in the planned schedule—and picks up the pube-infested bowls of water, taking them away.

“Now, where was I?” speaking to the remaining five cross-legged besties.

“Just taken your nipple covers off!!”

Liz returns with two new bowls of fresh water, sitting down in her place with the others, winking at me.

“Yes, you’re right, A and E. Okay, um….

why are you still wearing yours?”

“Oh??” They laugh together, and remove the offending nipple covers—

My patrons are going crazy!

Liz attends to each Twin, adding decoration to their nipples:

Thyye’s ‘Silver Blossom Tiered Torso Chain to Amy’s;

Tyes by Taras’s red velvet niptyes to Emy’s…

and ‘they’re’ loving it!”

I continue:

“What was I thinking?

A highly repressed Baptist minister was bound to spill his load way too quickly. If he had sucked my nipple nectar, I could have replaced his insecurity with confidence.

I felt pretty pissed off as I shoved my fingers up my slit, trying to grab the elusive latex to pull it out.”

In the story the condom was fully lost within my vagina, but the condom I used on the fake cock was deliberately too big…

for visual effect:

the black latex is still visibly hanging out of my cunt, so it’s much easier for ‘them’ to see…

and for me to pull out.

And pull it out I do,

as slowly as I can for my voyeurs,

tipping the contents down my throat, “Ahhh!

And his man-cream was everywhere. My stockings had to be thrown out. And I had to wash the jizz out of my panties.”

I cough. “I said,” raising my voice a bit louder, “I had to wash the jizz out of my panties!”

“Oh,” exclaims Liz, “sorry!”

She reaches for ‘that’ bag,

pulling out six new pairs of clear transparent panties.

Checking the initials on each, Liz hands one to each of the young adults.

Promptly, Liz drops her new panties in the water,

takes off her own risqué golden jeweled set,

squeezes the water out of the soaked panties,

and pulls the wet pair on, the clear glistening material sticking to her skin, becoming fully translucent.

“Come on, everyone” Liz encourages, “I’ve done it, while y’all watched! Now, it’s your turn.”

The other four gather around the bowl and follow Liz’s example as the emojis are going fanatical.

“And you too, Rubes.”

“But I―”

“I know you love it, but no exceptions.”

Resignation plastered over her face, Rubes begins removing Lovense’s Ferri.

It’s the only protest.

And for once, the Twins aren’t complaining.

Maybe they’ve grown up ·

Maybe I’ve helped them grow up!

Pleased with myself, I continue with the tale:

“I was pretty disappointed with Pastor Mike… ‘til I remembered that I still had Tomm—”

“Oh ··· it’s clammy!!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

I reach into the shower, turning the hot faucet on.

Then to the bath, making sure that it’s running hot before shoving the plug in,

and returning to a steaming spray from the showerhead.

I have a shower before the bath, since I use the shower to exfoliate, and properly clean myself…

so that I can enjoy a hot soaking bath.

I know that this is a waste of water—compared to third world economies where clean water of any sort is a luxury most don’t have—but it’s not like I can give them my water.

If I want to change the situation—and there is enough food and water in the world for everyone to share—I would have to be in charge.

But that’s unlikely to happen.

That’s something for the ‘dessing Sapiens to sort out for themselves.

As if.

I close my eyes as my head bears the brunt of the scorching deluge ‘Dess that’s good!

The steam flushes my face

Today was glorious.

The heat is stinging my whole body

But I’m so exhausted ·

I could stay here for hours.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Competition

The ceiling camera and foot-cam are for subscribers on the highest tier: they are on 24/7 and in their night vision mode, my patrons can see me as I sleep. Or touch myself when I sleep. They can see this live footage of me by logging onto my website.

There’s got to be some perks for my highest paying customers, and now, that ‘perk’ is my practically naked BFFs on the right half of the website. In fact, they have been able to see my BFFs since our video chat first began, and they’ve been very appreciative: a lot of emojis when the girls were drinking. The highest emojis spike events, so far: when the girls remove bits of clothing; the shaving scenes, and the ‘damp cotton panties’ moment.

They’re sure getting their money’s worth tonight!

And it’s going to get better…

‘coz Liz and Tenille are in the bathroom with the Twins, getting them ready for that fashion show.

With four of the girls missing from the streaming, it’s just Grace and Rubes on one feed, and me on the other.

Grace and Rubes? ·

Together? ·

By themselves? ·

Boring!

I set up a new feed between the view of me (on the left) and the far right footage of Grace and Rubes…

and force-start the screensaver from its paused position:

Rowing on a canoe

pulling on the oars,

going under the Bow Bridge.

wearing a ‘Yeoreo’ set,

the drone flies above me, the view of me from directly beneath

the drone―and the feed―circumnavigates the vessel…

then coming beside me…

focusing on the action of my arms as I row…

I hope those girls are going to do something.

I’m still rowing…

my surrounds morph into a gym…

but rowing on a machine…

The feed is hand-held, watching my arms in action…

the footage turns towards my face…

then slowly pivots downwards…

same Yeoreo top…

bare abs with navel sticker…

no panties…

the camera focuses on my pussy,

as my rowing action moves my cunt towards the camera…

then away from the camera…

to the camera…

away…

to…

away….

“Fuqin ridiculous!”

Picking up my cell phone, to text Grace:

“Don’t just fuqin sit there, do something!”

She looks at the streaming cam and shrugs her shoulders.

“DaFuq?”

The camera pivots again…

the footage showing a long, thumping dildo hitched onto the rowing machine

the video angles out…

as I row longer, the seat action lengthens…

my pussy getting closer…

closer…

lips almost touching the dildo…

full arm action—

“Oh Fuqqqq!”

“You seem a bit different, Rubes,” Grace comments, “uneasy. Is it the family dynamics of living with a new stepmom and the Twins?”

DaFuq? ·

Psychoanalysis? ·

Sheesh ·

This is supposed to be a sex show!

I’m riding a bike in Central Park,

surrounded by trees,

the skyline of Manhattan in the visible distance.

“Yeah,” Rubes responds, “I—”

“You’re too nice to be a part of this group.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Grace?”

Racing fast on the cycle path

wind ripping through my long, red, wavy hair.

“You’re not sexy enough.”

“No,” Rubes insists, “I love sex.”

“Yes, but to you it’s about meaningful relationships.”

“No—”

“I’ve seen you, Rubes…”

I reach a huge wide tree

raising my arms in the air, in victory

“… hook-ups in the toilets are supposed to be casual.

You’re not supposed to walk away with their number!”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

I yank off my yeoreo top,

enjoying the fresh breeze engulfing my bare torso

“Nothing…

except it’s difficult for you to have sex for the sake of sex.

That’s why you’ve been given ‘that’ role tonight.”

The camera focuses on my bare breasts

the background changes

the camera pulls back—

I’m on an exercise bike

topless with only a pair of crotchless panties on,

pedaling fast with my bum in the air,

“They are my stepsisters!”

“That’s my point Rubes: this would violate your family relationships. Relationships which you hold to be so important. But who are the Twins? They’re only step! Not your real family. Not blood.”

“You think I can’t? You act so high and mighty. Just because you ‘think’ you’re a writer doesn’t mean you’re better than me. Take any sex tool… I bet I can out—”

“What the hell?” Liz interrupting them. “Rubes, why are you fighting about sex?”

Grace grins.

Bum in the air,

there’s movement in the saddle…

as a dildo emerges.

“Rubes,” Liz admonishes, “Grace is just trying to get a rise from you.”

“And I haven’t been given a lesser role at the end?”

I keep cycling, but lower my ass

as the cock-in-the-seat rises to greet me,

the dildo agonizingly close to my cunt,

as the camera angles around for a better view

“If you want to do it…

you’ll have to prove that you can outmatch Grace.”

“So, I do have to prove myself?”

The Screen-saver footage pauses…

disappears…

“Everyone does, Rubes.

Tell you what:

‘They’re’ waiting for a show, let’s give ‘them’ one, before the fashion exhibition. And if you can outlast Grace, you can take her place… and I’ll give you that gift I promised earlier.”

“What is it?”

“A surprise.

Now,” going to ‘that’ bag, pulling out the ‘LureVibe’ long ’wine-red’ colored dildo, “take off those damp panties!”

Wearing nothing but face masks, nipple decorations, jewelry, their stilettos―and the last remnants of lingerie―the three, in the catwalk footage, gather around the double ended vibrating dildo.

Liz lays down a gym mat, “Now… Grace, you’re on my right, Rubes… my left,” positioning the tripod so the camera feed is positioned perfectly.

“Lay on your backs…

head away from me…

and spread your legs…

full splits…

now move towards each other…

this dual beauty has to reach you both.”

Awkwardly, they use their hands to push their bodies towards each other.

“That’s it.”

My website now has only two streams:

On the left side is me;

on the right, the close-up footage of Grace and Rubes,

their thighs in a full split,

their waxed pussies just four inches apart…

and the emojis come in, thick and fast.

I grab a new toy from under my blanket: OzGaga’s electric wand―just to add to their choices―bringing it to a nipple.

Liz holds the dual-headed dildo just above their hairless cunts, “First one to make a noise…

loses!”

She inserts the heads at the same time, and while they initially grimace, neither says a thing.

There’s an extra part to the dildo. Liz turns it on, as the dildo heads vibrate within both girls.

Liz squats near them…

adding the ‘rose’ into her own.

Three for the price of one ·

Four if you include me.

bringing the spark to my own pussy.

Liz has that dual-dildo going as fast as it can ·

Rubes is still holding out against Grace.

I watch the feed as Liz reaches for ‘her’ bag and puts her hand in.

A circular hole materializes by my hand—

“DaFuq?—”

Liz’s hand reaches through…

snatches the wand from me…

vanishing back inside the circle which disappears.

“What DaFuq?”

I glance up to the screen as Liz pulls my wand out of her bag…

So that’s how my stuff goes fuqin missing! ·

Cheeky Fuq!

… and touches Grace’s pussy—

“Ouch!”

“Ha,” Liz exudes, “Rubes wins!”

“Hey,” the dildo still vibrating in her, “that’s not fair.”

“Management’s decision is final,” Liz laughs, “and for the winner,”

Liz’s hand going into her bag.

“Before I offer it, Rubes…

You won the game to swap places with Grace.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But, Amy…

she is still your step-sister, Rubes…

will you be able to, when the time comes?”

“I will…

I can…

I want to.”

“Well, Rubes,” pulling her enclosed hand out of the bag, “welcome to the club.”

Liz drops it into Rubes’s outstretched palms…

Svacom’s ‘Braceleta.’

“It’s already charged. But only yours when―”

“I know. When I’ve used it online.”

“Don’t worry Rubes,” Grace touching her hand, “it’ll be fun… Sister!”

“Quickly then,” Liz orders, “places…

the shows about to start!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

I can’t stay here forever ·

And I need to exfoliate.

I soap the body scourer

And I am not sure what tomorrow will bring.

Scrubbing my back, I contemplate:

My earliest recollection ·

Walking to the garage to work on a car ·

I don’t remember anything of my life before that point ·

Nothing ·

All I know was that I was about 10 years old.

I mull over the questions this raises:

Was I adopted?

Doubtful, since I share many characteristics with my dad.

Was there some chaotic event that wiped my memory?

I don’t know.

No one talks about any incident—or accident—that might have happened. And there are no scars on my body from any traumatic event.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Parade

All their gifts—chosen by the Twins, individually—are clothes, of different varieties…

and not soft pink.

At least they’re not supposed to be pink.

Free from their religious constraints, the Twins have volunteered to model their birthday gifts that they’ve chosen on the tablets.

Clothes that Liz got via ‘that’ bag while they were in the bathroom.

I have no idea what they’ve chosen.

But Liz is in charge…

she won’t be letting them wear conservative shit….

Diminutive, Filipina chicks ·

Wearing risqué clothing ·

I hope.

Liz stands in the circle of the runway, wearing just her mask, body chain with clit decoration, and stilettos—and her snake jewelry—“The first set is… Pajamas!”

Liz joins the other ‘judges’—Grace and Rubes, also clad in minimal wear sitting on top of the long table, parallel with the ‘runway,’ their thighs spread, with Svacom’s ‘Braceleta’ clearly visible between their pussy lips―

turns on some music…

and the bathroom door opens:

The Twins at the top of the ‘runway,’ both wearing those long ‘Alya’ pajamas, with their differing colored stilettos.

Amy goes first, and as she reaches the turn, Emy starts…

both passing each other in the middle―where the thigh-spread judges are sitting…

reaching the runway’s start position (outside the powder room), Amy pulls off her top—wearing a soft pink number—and waits for Emy.

I knew she couldn’t choose a different color!

Emy joins her sister and pulls off her top, revealing a pretty red piece.

Both girls are wearing mesh off-shoulder numbers…

obviously supported by unseen push-up bras…

and they drop their pajama pants.

Holding hands, they do the ‘walk’, each twirling at the turn, before standing in front of the judging table:

“We’re ··· wearing ··· Dulce Store Paris!!··· This is the ‘Fanny’···And I’m wearing ‘Jayde.’”

“E!”

“Oh??”

“You go ahead, A,” Liz in charge, “get ready for your next set.”

“Okay!” heading back up the runway to the changerooms.

“Is there a problem?” Emy asks.

“Those aren’t pajamas, they’re just crotchless ling―”

“They’re my pajamas.”

“Okay. Well, we’d love to see you do the runway again,” as Liz sets up another window on my website, via her cellphone.

“Oh,” shrugging…

strutting…

posing at the turn…

sashaying—

A small cube rolls between her legs…

stopping behind her.

“Can you pick it up, please?”

Emy turns around, reaching—

“No,” Liz orders, “don’t turn around…

that’s better,” the camera focusing on Emy’s back,

“just bend over…

Freeze!”

Emy stays in that position: her back to the camera, bent over, hands two inches above the die on the floor.

“What does it say, E?”

“KissOh!—”

Another die rolling under her legs…

stopping next to the other cube.

“And that one?”

“Ass.”

“No…

stay in your position…

do you want your ass kissed?

“Um?”

“For some chocolate and a shot? This chocolate is special. Do you want bigger boobs?”

“Of course.”

“This chocolate will give you bigger boobs!”

“Okay!”

And just like that she spreads her legs.

Liz winks to a smirking Grace, handing her the cellphone.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

The scorching water from the shower-head flushes over me, but I can’t relax, my mind flooded with questions I’ve never been able to solve, or gain answers to:

I know I’m a Secundii ·

But why am I only 5’ 0”?

It is common knowledge—in the Echelon—that all Secundii look the same. But that includes being 5’7”. I’m the same as Dad and Auntle Blake—except I’m far too short

And it’s not that I don’t want to be ·

I would dearly love to be that height ·

And the most disturbing conundrum:

How can I have been this height since I was ten?

I consider the most disturbing question:

Why, at the age of ten, did I have the body—short 5’0” body—of an adult?

I look like an adult. And have done since I was ten.

This is the only body I have ever known, fully formed, and I haven’t grown or changed in appearance since then.

Like I’ve been frozen in time ·

It’s supposed to be my nineteenth birthday on Saturday ·

But I look more like twenty-two ·

What the ‘dess is that about? ·

How is any of this possible?

I’ve tried to get answers, but my primary care givers are less than helpful:

Mom just says that I’m an ‘early bloomer.’

Dad and Auntle Blake—they both have a more confusing answer—they look at me as if I am normal; as if they cannot see the changes that affect my body.

What is that about?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Catwalk

Yes, I have been forgiven.

The hand-held streaming had zoomed in, on Emy’s cute a-hole and pussy…

and ‘they’ watched as Liz briefly tongued her a-hole,

licked her pussy,

and then gave both a cute kiss.

Liz just needed to have the Twins alternating.

Holding Emy back, briefly, was just the ticket to do that.

What’s not to love? ·

Rim and clit job ·

Necessary? ·

No ·

Perfect? ·

Abso-Fuqing-lutely!

And ‘they’ loved it too.

And Emy?

She smiled, skoled, and took her two pieces of ‘Coklitka’ to the change rooms…

with instructions to share with her sister.

But it is taking too long ·

I’ll call Tenille to instruct the Twins to give the runway a miss.

“It’s beach time!” Liz announces to ‘them’ and into her cellphone, to Tenille.

Amy is first, exiting the bathroom while nibbling on something,

barefooted wearing a bikini set with wrap, as she traipses the runway…

poses…

and approaches the ‘desk.’

“And you’re wearing?”

“This is Dulce’s ‘Kalya’ bikini set.”

“They’re watching, you know. Perhaps no eating, next time.”

“I know, I know… but it’s so yummy!”

Returning, Amy crosses paths with Emy…

both briefly checking each other out.

Emy wears heels, and an ensemble from ‘NaughtyGirlShop’ including a rhinestone fringe skirt.

She stops at the posing zone,

walks over to where the judges are sitting…

but she ignores Rubes and Grace…

going straight to Liz…

and parts the fringes of her skirt…

showing off her spikey gold bikini bottom,

and walks back up the runway…

passing Amy at the top….

Amy wearing a colorful swimwear set.

More here

“Shopping time!” Liz yells out to Tenille.

Amy walks the runaway,

“Hey, I’m wearing ‘Dulce’s’ lantern short dress,” she states to the judges.

“You’re shopping in that orange number?”

“Sure, it matches the scrunchies on my ponytails.”

“Um,” Grace starts, “I think you’re colorblind Amy, that’s―”

Amy reaches under her short dress,

pulls down her orange panties,

stepping out of them…

and uses her panties to tie the two ends of her ponytails together.

“Now it does!”

Swiftly she turns her back on them,

walking back up the runway—

“Oh! A coin,”

bending over…

letting the camera get a good view of her round bottom…

and more…

then continuing up the runway to the powder room.

“What the fuck?” comments Liz. “Have any of you seen Amy like that before?”

“No,” offers Rubes, “but perhaps that chocolate?”

“Maybe,” Grace suggests, “it is an aphrodisiac…so, there could be follow-on effects.”

“Like?”

“Like Liz alluded to previously… when you’re horny, blood rushes to your erogenous areas… particularly your boobs and vagina… I mean you saw her cunt after she was shaved… and you saw it just a few seconds ago.”

“Yeah,” Rubes agrees, “plumper. But that wouldn’t explain her acting that way… would it?”

“Perhaps—”

“Or perhaps,” interjects Liz, “they decided to make a competition of it.”

“You think?”

“If they’ve lost all their restraints and inhibitions… sure—

Here comes Emy!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

All these thoughts overwhelm me…

but I’m learning to catch it in time.

I carefully sit in the corner of the shower,

allowing the water to deluge over me,

as I try to control my breathing…

and bring the attack under control.

And I’ll be here as long as it takes.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Liz

“So, who are you wearing, Emy?”

“I haven’t even finished my walk, let alone the posing. What’s the rush?”

“D says we’re taking too long.”

“Okay,” stopping in the middle and facing the three,” this is from ‘LCP’―’Life Changing Products’―and it’s a jumper dress.”

“And…?”

“I’m interested in contrasts…

So, this is knitted,

and I love the feel of these red ‘insert brand here’ tights.

My boots are, well, boot material,

and my bag is different again.

So, yeah, contrasts.”

“And bra?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’m young enough, and they’re small enough that they’re not going to sag…

so, I’m not wearing any…

and, besides, I like the feel of knitted clothes on my bare boobs.”

“You haven’t mentioned your panties…?”

“Ahh,” lifting up the hem of her jumper-dress, “I also like the feel of these tights on my bare pussy!”

“Damn girl, when did you get so brazen? Okay…

get ready for the gym—

Oh! D must have sent T a message…

here comes A now…

better go, E.”

They pass each other on the runway.

Liz begins her announcement, “And—”

Amy goes straight to the three ‘judges’—

“I’m wearing, of course, ‘Yeoreo’… this is the ‘Belle’. It’s fleecy and warm.”

“Okay, get ready for dinner.”

“This isn’t fun,” Grace quips as Amy departs.

“I know,” shrugs Rubes, “but what can we do?”

“We’re going to force D to slow down. After,” Liz nudging them towards Emy already coming down the runway, “we see what E is wearing.”

“I know, I know… be quick,” coming straight to the judges, “this is Yeoreo’s crop top tennis set… thank you,” heading back to the change rooms.

“Hold on, where are you going? We have questions.”

“Getting ready for dinner, Liz,” winking.

The three quickly make preparations,

and Liz calls out, “Dinner time!”

Amy starts down the runway…

and stops—

A chair and a table sitting in the middle of the runway.

“Take a seat, A,” insists Liz.

“Oh? Okay.”

The new window on my screen is streaming from under the table.

Another pussy feed? ·

You’re devilishly naughty, Liz ·

This whole night is sexy enough ·

I don’t think more upskirt images are necessary.

But Liz is in charge at that end.

And those live emojis suggest that it is necessary!

“And you’re wearing?”

“The entire outfit is from ‘Dulce Store Paris,’” flicking at the metallic skirt.

“You’re wearing that to dinner?”

“I wasn’t told what type of restaurant it was.”

“And beneath?” inquires Rubes

“A cute number with blue stones!”

“And what if your date wanted to get under the table and eat you out? Can it come off?”

“No… please… not the scissors… it’s toooo pretty.”

“If you can unhook it, you can have some of ‘that’ chocolate.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” offering her a piece of normal chocolate.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

I soap the shower glove…

bringing it to a full lather…

srubbing my face…

neck…

and arms…

trying to concentrate on the exfoliating process…

trying…

trying to ignore all the questions that have plagued me for years.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Liz & Emy

She’s obviously been told, and goes straight for the chair, mischievousness in her grin.

“And you’re wearing?” quizzes Liz.

“A little black dress!”

“I can see that!”

“This is the ‘Lila’ dress from ‘Cappella Intimo’… and I’m wearing their ‘Astra’ stockings… and they’re sheer, because I know that’s what you really care about,” grinning from ear-to-ear, “you just want what’s underneath!”

Liz stands up, sucking a lollipop…

walking to Emy’s table, “You’re getting really cheeky!”

“Em-I?” giggling.

Emi spreads her legs, “I thought I was getting lippy!”

Once again, the emojis and comments are flooding in…

coz that view is abso-fuqin-tastic

They’re flirting!

“What do you want to do this time?” Emi daring Liz, who’s still standing at the table.

“What any good dinner companion would do!”

Liz goes underneath the table,

but stays low enough so that our ‘view’ is not impacted…

so we can see her crotchless tights.

Taking the lollipop out of her mouth…

she places the vibrating pop at the surface of Emy’s puffy pussy—

“OH!—”

Her whole face wide with surprise.

It pushes further in—

Hands gripping the edge of the seat―

“Ow!”

“Now,” Liz smirks, “you’re ready for the nightclub!”

Emi pops her little finger in her mouth.

“What’s wrong, E?”

“Gripped the seat too hard…” showing her little finger,

“bust a nail.”

“Oh, you poor thing, E,” Liz’s voice dripping in pretend mockery, “I’ve got just the thing for that,” kissing―ever so gently―the tip of her finger…

the finger disappearing into Liz’s mouth.

“Ummm,” changing her voice to a whisper, “I’ve just changed my name Liz. It ends with an ‘i’ and you pronounce it ‘Em-I.’”

Extracting the finger, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m ‘Em-I!’ From now on!”

“Okay, Emi,” pronouncing her name the right way…

kissing her little broken nail.

Amy

Amy strolls down the runway, confidence exuding from every pore.

“Well, this category,” Liz drawls, is “night club…

categorized by skimpy clothes, and easy access…

so, who are you wearing?”

“This is from ‘Deegnx’ but it’s not real leather, so D doesn’t have to worry.”

“A?” Liz asks, “you’ve worn lots of different colors tonight. How do you feel about pink now?”

She points downwards towards her black stilettos, “I’m warming up to other colors.”

“Oh?” Grace being impertinent, “Is black a color?”

“Maybe it’s my color, now!”

“What’s under that flap?” Rubes asks.

Amy lifts it, “Strap panties”

“And under that nipple buckle?” questions Rubes

Amy lifts it up, revealing her ‘Rivet Nipple’ covers.

“Done well” Liz states, “can’t wait to see your lingerie!”

We watch as heads back up the runway…

disappearing through the bathroom doors…

and wait…

wait…

still waiting.

“Shouldn’t Emi be here now?”

“Look! The door’s opening!”

DaFuq?

Amy struts down the catwalk.

“Um,” fumbles Liz, “where’s E? And why are you wearing pink?”

“She’s arguing with T…

and this is Bésame’s ‘Kiss Me Kimono in red satin.”

“I thought black was your color?”

“Surprise!” ripping off the kimono, revealing her sexy black ‘Bésame’s Kiss Me Swiss bodysuit.’

Amy twirls on her black heels, giving everyone…

including ‘them,’

a good gawking look.

“Very pretty!

Take your seat, A, and have a nice neck massage…

with more chocolate!”

“I’m thirsty too,” complaining, while walking to the yoga mat.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

My body

That is the other issue that keeps plaguing me, and it keeps me up at night;

it makes me depressed.

Every girly magazine or website that I have visited suggests that my engorged genitalia are the markers of someone who is at the height of Climax.

I take off the shower glove…

and touch my nipples

My nipples are erect and hard.

My hand goes down ‘there,’ and my fingers explore

My clit protruding ·

Labia enlarged ·

Vagina muscles I can feel are expanded ·

Yet I feel nothing ·

No desire at all ·

Can’t even conjure up a horny thought ·

Even with all those sexual mind-links that mom made me endure ·

Pedro would just say that I’m ‘fucking horny.’

But I am not normal.

Despite these ‘indicators’ I am not a sexual person.

I can’t orgasm even if I wanted to.

And I’ve tried.

Yeah ·

I am definitely asexual!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Emi & Liz

“DaFuq?”

Emi enters topless, wearing a wet look two-tone skirt, and ‘Coco’ fishnet socks with stilettos.

“I’m wearing,” announcing loudly, “a skirt from ‘3Wishes,’” already doing the walk, grinning wickedly.

“You’re clubbing… where’s the rest of it?”

“Don’t like it, Grace?”

Tenille interjects before Grace can answer, “And underneath?”

“Fuck underneath. If I’m going to get laid…”

she zips off her skirt—

‘Besame’s white garter belt with attached garters, all set with rhinestones…

and no panties.

Then pulls off her mask—

“DaFuq?—”

Quickly pushing the button to pause

Thank Fuq for the delay!

I pause all the feeds,

now texting Liz to get some clothes on that girl…

and the mask.

“No!” fighting off Liz.

No!

NO!

It’s my RIGHT!

I don’t want the mask, and I’m not putting on panties…

and you can’t make me.”

Liz calls …

asks me what I want to do.

It’s the first time, tonight, that Liz has wavered.

As for Emi, I don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking, or not, but during this ‘fashion show’ she has revealed more of herself…

different to her Twin.

Can I argue with her wishes?

“As long as she’s still wearing her mask, let her do as she pleases,” I tell Liz on the cellphone.

“But she doesn’t want it, D.”

“Make a deal with her.”

Liz blocks my view of Emi,

What is she up to? ·

She’s whispering in Emi’s ear ·

Whatever Liz has offered ·

It’s worked ·

She’s accepting her mask.

I allow the feeds to continue:

Emi stands directly in front of the camera,

mask on,

wearing the prettiest blue butterfly Thyye nipple rings…

Ah, that’s what she offered!

and zips off her skirt:

nothing but her ‘Bésame’ rhinestone embedded garter set, fishnet socks, and heels, proudly standing, the stilettos doing their bit to thrust out her plump pussy.

Yes ·

Her boobs and clit are visibly plumper ·

That horny chocolate has done its work.

Emi twists to watch her Twin laying on the yoga mat, breasts bared but nipples still covered by that thin band, eating chocolate, her collar partially zipped down as she receives a neck massage from Grace, with Rubes at her feet.

Emi smiles…

and takes her place on the yoga mat next to her identical sister—nestling her head in the lap of Tenille (back from the change rooms)—completely nude…

but for her mask, nipple rings, socks, and heels…

And for once they are not matching:

hairstyles

clothing

heels

nipple adornments

one broken nail

and…

their shaved pussies.

Everything different.

For once they are their own person, not tied to the other.

Lying next to each other on separate yoga mats, they have different identities.

Separate ·

Finally different individuals.

They reach out and hold hands.

FUQ!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

I know what I really need.

I’ve read plenty of magazines, enough to know that Sapiens masturbate to get relief.

I only have one sex toy: a compact vibrator from ‘Ozgaga’ and it’s stuck to a tile on my shower wall.

I remove it from its base and try again, desperate to feel something.

Anything.

I try again, my erogenous zones.

I know what my mind fights to desire…

My body…

it’s just unwilling.

If I could only masturbate.

I connect the suction base to a tile on the floor,

set the machine on the fastest setting.

With the scorching water cascading over me, I squat on the penetrating machine…

bouncing…

as hard as I can…

as deep as it can go…

but nothing.

There must be something wrong with me ·

I need to relieve stress ·

Why can’t I achieve orgasmic relief?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

With the fashion show over, everyone has started settling down again, though the long table has been moved out of sight, giving ‘them’ an unrestricted view of the twins laying on the yoga mats, eating their chocolate while receiving neck massages… and the story continues:

“I went back to the Cinema room, buttoned up my cardigan, and then joined the rest of the teenagers—and the preachy adults—for the alfresco meal. Pastor Mike was absent, but I was still horny—the leopard tail butt-plug was still in my ass, but now I also had the cold damp panties clinging to my hairless pussy, which only enhanced my desires… and hoped that Pastor Mike would reappear. Then I heard it—that voice—the female voice that Pastor Mike was talking to earlier before he cut the call.

The voice belonged to a petite woman wearing a ‘Runwayfashionista’ midi multi-colored dress.

She was whispering into her cell in hushed tones, but I could hear her loud and clear—and talking to Pastor Mike on the other end of the line.

I listened to the end part of the conversation: her name—Kylie…

and she was…

was…

his wife?

DAFUQ?

What had he told her?

I turned to scrutinize her, from head-to-toe:

pretty face—light brown complexion…

medium length black hair—hanging in ringlets…

the material around the bust of her dress was not expansive—suggesting small breasts…

but it was taut with perky nipples. So… no bra? I’ll have to come back to that!

My eyes continued their downwards examination:

her floral printed dress reached just below her knees—legs the same tone as her face…

open sandals on tan feet—with perfect toes—toenails painted soft pink…

must be around five foot-five…

My inspection returned upwards:

That hemline: a bit short for a religious-type person?

yes—no mistake—braless…

But isn’t she the Pastor’s wife? I thought.

Her eye colo—

the fuqin bitch stared back at me with demon eyes.

If a stare could kill, I’d be dead—instead, the fuqin thot stormed back into the house.

FUUUUUUQ!

That’s truly the end of my Mikefest—and maybe my entire night if she got me kicked out. If I was going to get any satisfaction, I needed to work fast—Tommy!

So, I started flirting with Tommy, and, over Sloppy Joes—

“We thought ··· you didn’t ··· eat meat??”

“You’re right, Twins, I don’t eat animals. Though I won’t say no to a nice meaty sausage!

“SAU-SAGE!!!!!!”

Liz and Rubes hand out the shot glasses to the others, the twins coughing as they try to skol with chocolate in their mouths.

“Over Sloppy Joes I amended our deal, forming a cum pact. This evening wouldn’t be a complete waste: I was getting dessert—a nice hard lollipop!

“LOL-LI-POP!!!!!!”

“With the sky turning dark, we all gradually made our way back inside, and into the air-conditioned Cinema room—refreshingly cold.

We began to set up our sleeping bags, with the five-seater sofa now positioned directly facing the screen, it’s back to the sliding door. A large rectangle coffee table was positioned directly in line with the middle of the sofa and the large screen TV, piled high with snacks and drinks. Sleeping bags were laid out on either side of the table: the boys to the left and girls to the right.

Tommy loudly objected to the next movie to be streamed: a ‘Horror’ flick. He was, of course, derided by the others, but the adult overseer allowed him to hide his sleeping bag under a small rectangular table—housing some vases and photos—at the back wall near the sliding door, in the corner. He could still see the screen from his position but was well away from the group.

Clever Boy!

The lights went out as the movie started…

and I waited…

waited for my opportunity…

waited for the grisly movie to pull them in, with its gruesome violence and high-pitched screaming.

When all eyes were on the glow emitting from the TV, I made my move and crawled around the back of the blue couch—parallel with the entrance’s sliding door—to Tommy’s hidden cavity.

Tommy welcomed me under the table into his sleeping bag. As I got in, I unbuttoned and took off my cardigan, and Tommy got an eye-full of my milk-stained, transparent open-bust t-shirt, and went straight for my fun bags.

But I wanted him to want me for me, not because he lost his will. Impossible to whisper over the din coming from the movie, I mouthed “No” and motioned to him to get off and give me space.

Tommy was offended, but ‘No meaning No’, he behaved like a gentleman and moved off—though his face reflected rejection.

I got out of the sleeping bag, and unzipped it, spreading it out like a blanket. Then, I pulled off my t-shirt—his eyes as wide as golf balls, hope restored in him—laid on my back, tail between my legs, lifted my bum off the floor—pushed my G-string part-way down to my calf muscles—and indicated that he could remove them.

A wicked smile crossed his face, as he pulled them off, staring greedily at my waxed pussy.

It was a risky move.

one: because some males are put off by my dark red ‘button’. But not Tommy, who was gleefully ravenous.

two: the hidden cavity wasn’t ‘hidden’; the lace tablecloth only draped over the lip of the cavity slightly—if any of the other boys chose to look backwards, we would have been seen (albeit as shadows in a darkened room)—but still, the potential of being caught only added to eroticism.

three: it was my clit ‘truth serum’ he was slurping. The whites of his eyes glazed blue, and he looked at me, about to blurt out some truth about himself.

But I didn’t want that noise, putting my hand over his mouth, directing that tongue back to my waxed pussy.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

What if I try to ‘re-live’ those mind links?

Over the past few months Mom has been creating ‘mind-melds’ as she calls it, linking our minds with others.

I don’t know how she does it, but we sit on a mat in her den, hold hands, close our eyes…

and she ‘transports’ us into the mind of another person.

Actually, we only go into one mind.

I can hear her thoughts,

feel her,

see through her eyes.

So, I know it’s the same person, every time.

But she’s…

promiscuous…

has many partners…

men and women…

and through her, I learnt the techniques for seduction.

I remember every one of her conquests…

and the differing ways that she seduces.

The last vision I had ·

as I continue to bounce on the dildo

She was with Mikhail.

“S-sorry,” he clamors, “I don’t know what happened.”

“Silly billy,” she replies, wearing EKNA Intimates ‘Nocturnal Edge Set’―the panties long gone―

“you’re not a spring chicken. I can get you hard…

do you want to be hard?”

“Y-yes?

“Get on your back.”

I’m ahead of her, pounding my vagina on the dildo that is on its fastest setting…

still desperately trying to find relief.

She crawls under the sheets…

attaching Lurevibes red ‘penis ring tongue’ onto his withered cock,

over his balls…

the tongue touching his anus…

pushes the butt—

“OHGOD!”

“Silly billy! It’s ‘goddess’ to you!”

She climbs on top…

straddles him…

“I want you to see me,” reaching over to his bedside table,

picking up his glasses,

placing them on his nose-bridge,

the arms secure on his ears…

“There…

take a good look…

I want you to perve,”

as she sloowwwllllyyyyyy removes her EKNA Intimates Trangle EDGE Bralette

“Fuck me!”

“That I will…

but at my pace.”

Positions herself over his erect cock

Sloowwwllllyyyyyy

Sinking

Down….

pulls her vagina

and down

and down his erect member.

I have perfect recall,

I look at his glasses,

looking for ‘her’ reflection in them…

but all I see are her cute tiny boobs

Typical male

she continues her unhurried pace, gliding upon his member

I slow down too…

using her rhythm to guide me.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

The Twins are laying on their back, each head resting in a crotch:

Emi—fully naked bar her mask, and Thyye nipple clips—has her head in Tenille’s lap;

Amy—wearing her one-piece EKNA Intimates—has her head resting in Grace’s lap;

their necks being massaged as the Twins eat ‘that’ chocolate.

Well, they think it is ‘Coklitka,’ but they’ve only had one piece! The rest of the chocolate has been normal chocolate. Liz figured that the Twins are susceptible to the ‘placebo effect.’

Their heels and socks are off too, as Liz and Rubes are massaging the Twins’s feet.

I continue:

“Naked as the day I was born—except for my ears, my ‘belly button’ pastie, and the tail in my ass—I lifted my legs overhead, wrapped my feet behind my head, and crossed my ankles together.

Can you do that, Twins?”

“We’re ··· lying ··· down!!”

“But can you put your legs over your heads?”

“NOOOO!!”

Just because they are more compliant ·

Doesn’t mean they’re any more flexible.

“How about just spread your legs apart?

A bit more?

Yep.

That’s okay.”

And ‘they’ think it’s more than okay!

“I was in my ‘sleep position’ with my tail and puffy cunt right in front of Tommy’s face, offering ‘third base’ off the bat. Tits forgotten, Tommy’s hands went two ways: one to my enlarged taco, the other to my freckle, where he jiggled the tail a bit, and then yanked it out—putting his tongue to good use.

And what a

talented tongue!

I completely underestimated him, cumming two times as he ate my pussy and rimmed me. Knowing that Tommy’s cock…”

I wait.

Expecting them to shout in unison.

Looking up at my website:

the Twins are softly moaning as their shoulders are massaged.

Amy’s shoulder wrapping unzipped and removed.

and their two masseuses are concentrating,

as are Liz and Rubes, who are now rubbing their calf muscles.

“Knowing that Tommy’s cock was as hard as a rock, and about to burst.

I released my position, did a one-eighty…

He got the idea and straddled me, gently…

I pushed my body under him, so my head was beneath his thick stick…

his tongue going back to my honeypot.

In the sixty-nine, my mouth took him of over the edge, as I came again—and we both sucked each other clean.

“Twins?”

“Yeah??” they reply sleepishly.

“I’ve got a tongue in my taco.”

“Oh?”

“And a cock’s in my mouth. Liz?”

“I’ve got it covered, D.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

I don’t know how long I’ve been ‘at it’.

Though the memory is fresh in my brain…

and though I know I’m somewhat ‘attracted’ to this girl

Or at least to her mind

and though her actions turned Mikhail on…

I’m still dry

The mechanical penis is wet―but not from me―just because I’m in the shower.

Surely having ‘it’ wet should have done something for me, anyway.

I’m disillusioned with what I thought would work but didn’t.

I put the dildo back into its base,

turning off the shower,

and drip along the white tiled floor to the bath—

“What the ‘dess?”

I’ve had such a long shower, this bath should be almost overflowing.

But the taps have been turned off.

Did I turn it off? ·

I don’t think so ·

Then whom? ·

Don’t be ridiculous · I tell myself ·

There’s no one here ·

I just don’t remember ·

But obviously I must have turned it off!

Reaching down to test the temperature—

“Uck!”

It’s ‘dessing freezing.

I can’t stand the cold, but at least the air is warm, courtesy of the heating lamps.

I empty the bath…

and start the water again…

waiting for the hot water to come out the faucet…

and plug it.

Climbing into the bath—the water still pouring out the tap at full force—my toes feel the water, “Ahhhhh.” I slouch down into it, but the water barely covers the bottom’s surface—it’s a long, deep, and wide ceramic bath—and my body is fully exposed.

A bath meant for two not one ·

Dess ·

Glad the air is warm.

The water is filling up quickly…

though the level is still quite low, it’s now just lapping my genitalia…

and covering the lower jets, which converts the bath into a spa, and I turn them on, so the hot water swirls.

It’s still not bubbly enough, so I reach for the small bathroom cabinet (it’s in arms reach and facing me), opening the doors—

“What the Dess?”

My mom often puts things in here that she thinks I want—or need—but this is bizarre

Why would she place a box of nursing pads here? ·

And ·

What is that?

“Period panties?”

‘Des, Mom, I’m not an Ord!

Sometimes, I just don’t understand that woman. There are times that we have a real connection, and other times when I really question whether she’s my mother.

Going to have to speak to her about these random selections!

I find what I’m looking for, pulling out three spheres.

They used to be called ‘bath bombs,’ but I wouldn’t be surprised if that label is considered unethical in the worldwide Ord community

And I once thought of myself as one of them ·

And not that long ago.

I’ve got to get over it

Reliving what I lost

That’s only going to make me feel depressed.

I throw the three balls halfway down the bath—being careful to make sure my leg isn’t in the way—so that the hot water sloshing out of the tap will hit it directly, dissolving them as fast as possible.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

My Story

“Tommy went to sleep with a smile on his face, and as the hours progressed, so did everyone else. Through the glow of the TV piercing the darkness, I could faintly make out bodies of slumbering teenagers, and some in strange and contorted positions—like the dead, apart from the occasional, grunting, farting, and snoring—everybody but me. Insomnia—frustration—still not wholly satisfied.

Unfulfilled.

Yes, Tommy held up his side of the bargain: I had cum—but I also assumed it would include a good hard banging.

DaFuq?

Wasn’t my open pussy enough?

But no P in V.

Wasn’t my booty in his face the invitation to shove it in?

No such luck.

Why?

Well, Tommy consumed so much of my cunt juice that he talked in his sleep! Apparently, Tommy had sworn a ‘virginity pledge’. Shoving his tongue up my yoni didn’t count as sex, nor did squirting his baby batter in my mouth, but thrusting his cock—”

I wait.

Look up at the screen:

Heads in their massager’s laps, their mouth’s full, sucking on a penis-shaped alcoholic treat as some hands are rubbing the area just under their collarbone, while other hands have graduated up to their thighs.

“But shoving his cock in my vagina or ass—well, that was out of the question. I was beginning to rue this ‘taking the moral high ground.’ If he had sucked my tits—still full of milk from my failed rendezvous with Pastor Mike—I would have been fully satisfied. Instead, with Tommy—and everyone else—asleep, I was wide awake with an itch that was left unscratched.

I exited the cavity, wearing only my cardigan and ears—in the darkness, I couldn’t find my skimpy t-shirt, mini skirt, panties, cum-splatted choker, or even my tail—and sat in the middle of the five-seater sofa. With utter boredom creeping in, I grabbed the remote, hoisted my feet on the sofa cushion, and pulled my cardigan over my knees and legs. Still horny and irritated by it all, I gently stroked my muffin as I channel-surfed. It was then I heard Pastor Mick’s footsteps in the corridor approaching the room.

“E and A? Are you still awake?”

“Yeah” in unison, sucking between talking, “we’re listening.”

“Good, coz in the story, I’m stroking my muffin…

just as I’m doing right now.”

“Ur… ??”

“Just relax. Liz and Rubes will help.”

“Mmmmm!!”

Amy lays back, closing her eyes, her head resting in the crotch of Grace, who unbuckles the dress’s breast buckles, and strokes Amy’s boobs, her nipples still obscured by those rivet nipple covers.

Rube’s hands unbuckle the waist belt,

unzips her groin covering,

cuts off her panties,

fingers going to her hairless vulva, tentatively touching her—

Amy gently moans.

Emi—fully naked, bar her pink bunny mask and blue butterfly Thyye nipple rings—lays between Tenille’s legs, her head resting on Tenille’s cunt, as Tenille traces small circles around Emy’s nipples… and Liz gently and softly rubs that soft pubes landing strip…

and her pussy lips.

Again, the emojis come, thick and fast.

The Twins, independently of each other, squirm a bit.

I smile, “Just relax, you two.”

As hands fully massage the Twins’ boobs,

other hands massage more exploratively…

and their thighs slightly spread.

“See? That’s not too bad, nice even, eh?”

And they fully open up.

“Keep going”

Got to time the countdown perfectly

“We’re going live in 5…

4,” taking a remote control from my bed caddy,

“3,” turning on the video camera at the foot of my bed,

silently mouthing “2,”

1—”

I push the streaming button for those in the lower tiers, and my website once again opens up a third window, my widescreen now divided into three footages.

“Hiya peeps,” looking directly at the camera at the base of my bed, “thanx for being my fans. The fun stuff you’ve been waiting for is just about to begin! As a special, you can also see my six friends: just a bonus extra for you, my fans.

So,” announcing to the expanded live feed “as promised to you, we have two winners from last week: Kylie and Mike, I’m telling my BFFs a story, with your names in it!

If you want to hear the full story and see all the video sign up to the Gold Tier…

we’re nearing the end!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

A hot bath is conducive to meditation.

Or sleeping.

Or allowing my brain to ramble on.

I don’t know anyone who’s asexual ·

I know that Auntle Blake is intersex ·

But they are definitely not asexual.

I know because I can hear them despite their noise-insulated bedroom.

Or used to ·

So, it’s not a ‘Sentinel thing’ ·

Neither Perfectio, nor Secundii ·

From what Dad tells me, though the Sapiens can be asexual, that is not part of the Acolyte make-up ·

They obviously get ‘turned on’ by seeing sex.

In Ord society, sex is a big deal—as is finding a life partner—but in the Echelon, sex is meaningless. Proof being the public viewing of the mating rituals. I shudder as I think about what I’ll be expected to endure when I mate Pedro.

I hope Pedro cancels ‘us’ ·

I don’t think I could bear to be with someone who humps anyone at the drop of a pair of panties ·

Apparently ‘loyalty’ means nothing to these Sapien Acolytes ·

Not like the love Mom, Dad, and Auntle Blake share ·

Or, at least, used to.

But there’s a more immediate issue at hand:

I wanted ·

No, I want ·

My first time to be with someone I like ·

Instead, I’m going to be on show ·

To the Echelon world ·

In just a few hours ·

And that sexual liaison will be… ·

Devoid of all emotion ·

‘Dess ·

Is there any way to avoid it?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

My Story

“It was then I heard Pastor Mick’s footsteps in the corridor approaching the room.

Hey Twins, don’t ask me how I heard, and knew. I just did!

And I wondered what kind of state he would be in?

I listened:

he was being followed…

followed by another set of footsteps…

a lighter pair!

I figured I would pretend not to hear them enter…

and let the dice fall where they may.

The sliding door opened slowly; he was trying to be quiet. Climbing over the sofa, he flopped beside me, on my right side.

“Ahhh!” I feigned a quiet surprise, then whispered, “You scared me!”

Pastor Mike put his index finger to my lips, “Ssshhhh—”

‘Plopp!―’

The cushions on my left depressed, and a body nestled right into me―

“Oh?”—

“Ssshhhhh,” came the female voice—Kylie’s voice—taking the remote control from me, she turned the TV off.

Darkness

And then I felt a pair of hands reach for each of my shoulders, both fumbling for my cardigan buttons

I helped.

Those fingers groped for my breasts

as two sets of teeth found their way to my neck.

I was horny as hell,

and in the darkness, my nipples released their glowing milk…

two mouths latched onto my tits

engorging themselves on my magic milkshake.

Hey, I was beyond taking the moral high ground.

I had needs too.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

Perhaps I can back out ·

A life to be had amongst the Ords.

Without the full course of suckling on the nectar, the mark would gradually disappear. Yes, I would lose the health and long life associated with it

‘Dess ·

I’m addicted to the nectar ·

Every time I see Dad ·

I can smell it ·

I want it ·

Just want to rip off his shirt and suck on his nipple.

I feel disgusted and desperate at the same time ·

But it is the closet I’ve come to experiencing desire…

could I give that up?

But, ‘dess ·

The freedom to live ·

To love ·

To be truly loved ·

If that is ever in my future, it would be with the Ords, not this—

“It’s time!”―

What the Dess? Frantically covering my nipples―with my soapy hands―still exposed in the half-filled-up bath.

Who said that?

“Who’s there?” Trying to sound brave to the intruder, frantically covering my nipples—with my soapy hands—still exposed in the half-filled-up bath.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

I blow a kiss in the direction of the ceiling camera, raise the cell phone up in the air, sing “Candid camera time,” and take a top-half sexy selfie.

“Hah! Beat that sugar pic, BFF’s—I’m the insta hottie!”

Looking up towards the 360°-night vision, motion-activated, ceiling camera, I seductively smile, giving it the ‘thumbs up.’

I gave the lower tiers a ‘free pass’ to all of my live feeds for a restricted time: thirty minutes, starting now.

Normally their access only features me clothed―more or less―but tonight, they can see everything.

The feeds featuring my six nude friends…

and my ceiling cam…

and access to my foot-cam attached to the foot-rail on my bunkbed, aimed directly at my panty-less cunt.

I give a thumbs-up in front of my hairless vagina for these potential top-tier customers.

For both my patrons, I need to give my best performance.

I can’t be worried about what is happening with my BFFs. Liz is in charge there, and she knows what to do!

I resume caressing my high-set, ample, ball-like, gravity-defying breasts, fingers from both hands tracing each dark-colored areola encircling their one-inch diameters―over the clamp that is still there―twirling towards the prominent one-inch erect nipples, rubbing and pulling both nipples, gently moaning as the tall, firm, dark red nipples begin seeping a liquid, leaking an opaque fluid, squirting radiant milk.

As the fingers of my right hand continue to grope my right nipple, my left-hand moves down,

fingers walking through the upper abs over the ‘X’ pastie,

and lower abs,

and begin gently stroking the top of my protruding clit erection, brushing over my red and swollen horse-shoe vulva,

penetrating.

“As they were sucking my titties,

my hands went to two crotches and both hands got busy:

the right to trousers,

the left to a dress,

But there was no material to be stroked—

no fabric to be patted—

His were pushed down.

Hers were pulled up.

I stroked his veiny cock—

Fondled her smooth pussy—

Hard and erect, I massaged up and down;

Like braille, I felt its form: a cute lily shape… and moist;

his needing lubrication, I spat into my hand then firmly pumped;

her thighs spread, and my finger entered her wetness;

twisting as I went down, harder, faster;

three fingers searching, massaging;

Their hands got busy too…

lips fell upon my lips…

we…”

I’ve worked myself into a horny slut.

I still have my faculties—but just barely.

I grab the dual-head vibrator, turning it on, and place the quivering heads onto my bellybutton sticker, then pushing the two-heads downwards towards my clit.

I pause.

Then lift my legs overhead—with supple flexibility—and wrap both my feet behind my head, crossing my ankles, giving the three cameras a perfect view:

And the two-headed vibrator continues south:

One small rubber head touches my clit erection…

teasingly passing over it …

the big head resting upon it.

“Ummmm, Kylie,” as the vibrating head rubs up and down my horseshoe pussy. The thinner vibrating head touches my butthole

My breathing falters “Mmmm, Mike?”

Both heads are pulsating…

entering both holes

moaning

legs quivering

body shuddering

pelvis rocking

“OHHHH FUUUUUQQ!”

nipples and vagina squirt together

rhythmic movement slows

I smile

glowing foam bubbles up from my swollen clit folds,

slowly seeping down towards my tummy ripples

I pull out of the yogic sleep pose,

throwing the dual vibrator to the far side of my top bunk bed, concentrating on the camera at the far end of the bed.

Moving my thighs into ‘spread eagle’

“Help me finish off, Kylie and Mike,”

As fingers from both my hands going to my slit, furiously rubbing, slapping, “Touch me!” vigorously fingering myself

“FFUUUUUQ—”

Voluminous liquid squirts from my red, swollen, hairless vagina, splattering the camera squarely in the middle

“Fuq, yep—”

The second stream only just hits the camera

Third, reaches just half-way spraying the waterproof blanket

the last, is merely a tiny spurt.

I rest my head on the pillow, still panting,

“Thanks Mike and Kylie,” sighing as I look directly at the cam at the end of the bed, “I’ve cum four times with barely any penetration—that’s how horny I am!

I could do this all night, but,” launching myself towards the cam and landing on my front so that my face is just a few inches from the cam, looking straight into it, “What I really want is a hard, cheesy sausage! Hope you enjoyed it,” grabbing the remote control.

“That’s the type of content you’ll receive when you sign-up to the highest tiers. So what are you waiting for? I’m waiting for you,” blowing them a kiss.

Pushing a few buttons, the light from the cam at the foot of the bed extinguishes,

the website reducing to two scenes: the ceiling cam, and my BFFs in Florida

I got so carried away that I forgot about them ·

Got caught up in my own role.

I look in interest at the Twins, their noisy scene still live-feeding to my website’s audience:

Emi is on her back, her head in Tenille’s lap, her ankles held wide apart in Tenille’s hands, her vagina being wrecked by Liz’s strapless dildo, as Emy rubs her tits, groaning and moaning…

and Tenille awkwardly leans into upside-down kiss her.

Amy is on all fours, her torso slanted downwards, her mouth eating Grace’s muffin, backside in the air, both holes being drilled by Rubes wearing that dildo panties, with a secondary ass dildo added to it, and a pair of black vibrating balls which are audibly slapping Amy, as Rubes—grunting loudly—violently gives her all.

DaFuq, Rubes? ·

So unlike you ·

I think you need therapy ·

Or perhaps this is therapy.

I smile

Tonight they are having very different experiences ·

Finally.

Emi rips off her mask, “Kiss me Liz, you promised!”

“DaFuq?”

Nevermind.

“HAPPY 21st BIRTHDAY, TWINS!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

Is that my voice in my head? ·

Sounds like my voice ·

And where is that noise coming from? ·

What’s that humming?

Your bangles · the invisible voice that sounds like me, mutters quietly in my head.

Yes · Agreeing to myself ·

They’re humming ·

Because—

Because they’re enchanted! · murmurs my susurrating internal voice.

Who are you? ·

Perhaps I’m talking to myself ·

Yet, I know it to be true! ·

Need to take them off ·

Huh, no clasps ·

And each is too small to pull my hand through! ·

How can—

Use your mind · my soft head-voice hints.

How?

Concentrate! · my thought-voice hisses.

I look at the eight solid bands around my right wrist.

Close my eyes in concentration

then open them, glaring at the eight golden bangles bunched together.

“Ngggh” raising my eyebrow in expectat—

They break open, falling to the floor—

‘Clunk’—

Tingling in my clitoris and nipples—

“‘DESS?—”

Muscles tightening—

“HEYA?—“

Shortness of breath—

“OH!—”

Waves upon waves of orgasms—

I try to stop from screaming, using one hand to plug my mouth and the other plugging my vagina

But I can’t stop the orgas—

“DIINNNNEERRRR!”

That’s Mom ·

Oh ‘dess ·

Can’t hold the shriek any long—

Both hands hanging on to the side of the bath for dear life,

the uncontrollable orgasms shuddering my very core,

tears running down my face,

screaming:

“CUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMINGGGGGGGG!”

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Uncle Fred and Aunty V

“Viv,” irritably frowning at his wife, “they’ve been noisy all night! Tell them to settle down,” starting to get angry, “you know we have an early start tomorrow!”

Vivian sighs, “Okay,” pulling herself out of bed, “but you can’t be too hard on them Fred, this is meant to be fun for them.”

She opens their bedroom door, “At least,” continuing to talk, “you put your foot down about that slut coming,”

walking down the corridor, “their birthday is the start…”

reaching the girl’s room, “of a year with more…”

turning the knob, “positive and wholesome…”

pushing the door open, “influ—OHSWEETJESUS! FRED!”

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The Red-haired One

“Fuq, that was a good sesh,” I say to no one, to myself, to my highest-level patrons still watching me in the shadows.

Although I’ve turned off the widescreen, I know that my website is still receiving the live feed of the Twins in that Florida hotel…

and will continue until Liz finally closes it down…

which could still be hours away.

Can’t wait to see the ending of that session!

As for me, in my studio-bedroom there’s no ambient glow from any of my devices, and all the other cameras are turned off, except for the movement-activated night vision ceiling camera. It is pitch black—or it would be except for my luminous juices—and I’m lying on my back, as I feel it: those tiny talons on my shoulder.

“Hey, Sparkles!”

The bird’s talons travel downwards, as I feel sharp pricks racing along my right boob, the pricks heading towards the areola, as I begin to see her shadow.

I can feel what I know is her tiny tongue, licking the shimmering residue from around the nipple. It tickles, and I move my hand towards her, but she jumps—flapping her wings—and lands on my abdomen, scratching those little talons towards my vag.

I’m not having her accidentally nip me down there.

I jerk.

“Sparkles,” rebuking, “Stop It!”

The bird launches off my body, and flaps away.

I pick up my cell phone, fingers from both hands vigorously shuffling:

FRP o RL? weL BFFs I’m goin 2 hav 2 finish DIS story later, coz I’m fkn “E now, & az I sed before, sumtimz a Vbr8or simply isn’t a substitute 4 a gud hard ==B – so I’m goin out 2 git one!

c Ya’s

MESSAGE POSTED

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Pedro

“Alrighty,” Pedro talks to himself, laying naked on his bed, back against the bedhead, slowly rubbing his flaccid penis, trying desperately to arouse it, “it’s time to fuck Cely!”

He grabs his cell with one hand while wanking with the bangled one,

“Ah, there it is!”

Pedro, clicks on the video, and maximizes it,

“Yea—What the fuck?

Who is this?

That’s not Cely—Urgh,” dropping the cell, rubbing the skin under his bangle.

“Urgh….

What was I saying?

Oh, yeah, Cely’s looking good…

What the hell?

Why is she saying she’s short?

I know she’s 5’7”…

she doesn’t have big tits or a wide ass…

she’s a Beta…

why would she say that?

I don’t know what’s she’s saying…

she’s got a skinny, rocking body, and I’ll fuck that any day!”

Pedro maximizes the video again, attaching his cellphone to the penis stroker, grabs the handles with both hands and…

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Liz

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The Red-haired One

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Pedro

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