u/rose_nichols

Lily couldn’t sleep. She lay rigid atop the quilt, staring at the low ceiling, counting the minutes as the pale numbers on the bedside clock blinked sluggishly from 2:01 to 2:02. She’d pressed her palms so hard to her eyes the world shimmered green when she opened them. The echoes of her mother’s voice and the raw tremor of her own body still rang in her ears, unsettled and shivery.

She remembered her mother’s words: When it happens again, don’t touch yourself; come to me and I’ll help you. She rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. Maybe if she pressed hard enough, the feeling would flatten and die. Instead, it blossomed. She tried to count her breaths, then sheep, then seconds between the clock’s plastic ticks, but her thoughts always drifted back to the dark pulse that had taken over her body.

She whimpered, lips pressed tight to muffle the sound, and finally gave up. Her legs slid from under the covers and she padded to the door. The hallway was cold on her bare calves, the silence so thick that her own footsteps sounded like thunder. She hesitated outside her parents’ bedroom, palm flat against the door, the strange feeling surging in her stomach like she’d swallowed a living thing.

She knocked. It was a tiny sound, barely a tap, but her mother answered instantly.

“Come in, sweetheart.”

Lily opened the door, heart in her throat. The room was lit only by the amber glow of a salt lamp on the nightstand, washing everything in a thick, syrupy light. Her father was gone, off on another business trip, but her mother sat propped against a bank of pillows, a book resting on her lap. She was wearing a sheer white nightgown, and Lily could see the shadowy outline of her mother’s large breasts showing through. Elizabeth set the book aside, arms open in invitation. Lily crossed the thick carpet and climbed onto the bed, feeling her knees sink into the expensive mattress.

Elizabeth pulled her into a side hug, the heat of her body radiating through the thin cotton. “Is everything alright, baby?”

Lily nodded, lips trembling. “It’s… it’s worse, Mommy,” she whispered.

Her mother’s hand stroked the hair behind her ear, slow and methodical, like she was brushing out tangles invisible to everyone else. The touch was familiar, but Lily flinched anyway; her skin felt charged, hyper-alert.

Lily’s voice quivered when it finally arrived. “I can’t stop thinking about… last night.”

Elizabeth nodded as if this was the most natural confession in the world. “That’s very normal. It can be confusing the first time you see grown-ups being intimate.”

Lily flushed, the heat in her cheeks nearly painful. “It’s not that.” She looked away, ashamed to meet her mother’s eyes. “It’s what happened after. It’s still happening.” She tried to gesture at her body, but it just looked like she was hugging herself.

Elizabeth took Lily’s hand in hers. “You feel strange between your legs, yes?” she prompted, the question so direct that Lily jerked in surprise.

“I— yes. It’s like I have to pee, but not really. It’s itchy. I feel…” she trailed off, unable to find a word that wasn’t disgusting.

Her mother’s lips curled in sympathy. “That’s what I thought. It’s all right, honey. It happens to every girl eventually. That feeling is called arousal. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Lily’s voice was barely a squeak. “But you said not to touch it.”

“That’s right. Not by yourself. It’s important to wait for help, or you’ll teach your body the wrong lessons.” Elizabeth’s thumb stroked the back of Lily’s hand, slow and hypnotic. “That’s why you came to me. I’m proud of you for being so brave.”

Lily felt a warm glow from the praise, despite her mortification.

Her mother drew her closer, guiding Lily to sit between her legs on the bed. “Turn around, love. This is easier if you face away from me.” Elizabeth's fingers moved with gentle precision, deftly tugging at the hem of Lily's shirt. "Shh, darling," she murmured, her breath brushing against Lily's ear like a warm caress. "It's all right. Just trust me."

Lily squirmed slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features as her mother peeled away the fabric, exposing her skin to the cool air. "Mommy, I—" she began, but Elizabeth shushed her softly, cradling her daughter’s chin with a tender touch.

"You’re safe with me, sweetheart. This is just part of understanding your body," Elizabeth assured, her voice soothing and low. She continued to remove Lily's clothes, each tug met with a mix of hesitation and curiosity from Lily, who felt her cheeks flush with warmth. Lily's heart raced, a strange blend of embarrassment and anticipation coursing through her veins. She bit her lip, feeling the heat radiate from her face as she surrendered to her mother's guiding hands.

Elizabeth arranged her daughter like a delicate doll: spine pressed to her mother’s soft belly, legs together, hands folded neatly in her lap. As she settled Lily against her, Elizabeth spread her own legs, pinning Lily’s calves between her thick thighs, preventing her knees from closing. Lily could feel her mother's large breasts on either side of her head, warm and soft like pillows, enveloping her in a cocoon of maternal comfort.

Lily gasped at the sensation: safe in her mommy’s arms, but also trapped; her legs spread wide, and her private parts exposed to the air and her mother’s eyes. Elizabeth’s hands were soft, but they held Lily just firmly enough that she knew she couldn’t squirm away.

“First, you need to understand how your body works,” Elizabeth whispered. Her hands slid down Lily’s sides, gently kneading the flesh above her hips. “The feelings you’re having are normal, but if you try to take care of them yourself, you’ll always end up dissatisfied. That’s what makes girls and boys different. Boys get to finish. Girls are supposed to wait.”

Lily didn’t fully grasp what that meant, but she nodded anyway, not trusting her voice.

“This part of your body,” Elizabeth said, and cupped the mound with her palm, “is very sensitive. But that’s a good thing, if you treat it right.”

She started with the gentlest strokes, fingertips barely tracing the crease where Lily’s thigh met her hip. “You’re already so warm here,” her mother observed, voice proud and sad all at once. “That’s because your body wants to be close to someone. To be taken care of.”

Lily was breathing faster now, her head lolling back onto Elizabeth’s shoulder. She shut her eyes and tried to focus on the words, but every time her mother’s hand moved, it was as if her brain was being tickled from the inside.

Elizabeth’s touch became firmer, dragging the pads of her fingers along the outline of Lily’s underwear, then pressing down, flat and steady, right in the middle. “It’s ok to let yourself feel it,” she whispered, lips grazing the shell of Lily’s ear. “That’s the only way to learn control.”

Lily whimpered, and her mother shushed her gently, never stopping the motion of her hand.

For several minutes, Elizabeth did nothing more than stroke the outside of Lily’s labia, slow and steady, up and down, side to side. She explained, in a hush, that if you moved too fast, the feeling would fizzle out and leave you sad and empty. “It’s like blowing up a balloon,” she said, her voice dreamy. “If you go too quickly, it’ll pop before you’re ready.”

Lily’s legs were shaking uncontrollably now. She was dizzy, her entire world reduced to the small, hot point where her mother’s hand moved. She wanted to tell her mommy to stop, to go faster, to do anything, but she couldn’t get her mouth to work.

When her mommy finally dipped her fingers between the folds of Lily’s tiny pussy, she nearly screamed. The sensation was electric and sickening, nothing like what she’d felt when touching herself. Her mother’s fingers slid over the slick skin with practiced ease.

Elizabeth tutted softly. “Oh, you’re so wet, honey. Don’t be ashamed… it just means you’re healthy.”

She moved her hand in circles, sometimes pressing a finger right against the aching spot, sometimes drawing it away for long, torturous moments. Little whimpering moans were coming from Lily’s mouth as the itchy feeling grew and grew, just like the night before.

Elizabeth wrapped one arm around Lily’s chest, pinning her arms so she couldn’t move. The other hand kept working, two fingers now, fluttering over her clit and down, then back up, never quite in the same place twice. “Shhh, darling. It’s all right. You’re doing so well.”

Lily’s whole body tensed, her hips arching away from her mother’s lap. The balloon in her belly was about to burst. She felt the pressure build and build and—

Elizabeth’s hand vanished. She yanked her fingers free, clamping Lily’s thighs with her own to stop her from finishing. The absence of touch was worse than a slap. Lily wailed, “No! Please—” but her mother only rocked her gently, whispering, “Good girl, good girl, that’s enough.”

The ache in Lily’s body was so bad she thought she might die from it. She tried to claw at the heat between her legs, desperate to put her mother’s hand back where it belonged, but Elizabeth held her fast.

“You must never let yourself go all the way, Lily,” Elizabeth said, her voice firm and trembling at the same time. “That’s not for us. Orgasms don’t belong to women. Not unless a man says so.” She kissed the top of Lily’s head, her breath shaky. “That’s what makes you a good girl. Only bad girls finish themselves.”

Lily blinked through a haze of tears and sweat. “But… it hurts. I want to—” she stammered, her body still jerking with aftershocks of her denial. She wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, but she wanted more.

Her mother’s fingers, slick with Lily’s wetness, traced lazy patterns up and down her thigh, never quite returning to the source of her torment. “That’s the point,” Elizabeth murmured. “We get to feel everything, but we don’t get to finish. Not unless a man gives us permission. It’s how women keep their place. That’s why we stay on the edge; so we’re always wanting, always ready.”

Lily didn’t understand, but she nodded anyway. The pressure in her belly was slowly fading, replaced by a dull, bruised emptiness. Elizabeth cradled her close, rocking back and forth. For a long time, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the hum of the salt lamp and the sticky echo of their breaths.

Eventually, her mother helped Lily off her lap and tucked her nightgown back into place. She pulled the girl into her arms and stroked her hair, murmuring, “I’m so proud of you. You’re growing up so fast. Such a good girl, Lily.”

Lily clung to her mother, unsure whether she was grateful or furious or both. Her whole body was trembling, but her mother’s hands steadied her, rubbing gentle circles between her shoulder blades. When she finally found the courage to speak, her voice was small and desperate. “Does it always hurt like this?”

Elizabeth’s mouth twitched, an almost-smile. “It gets easier, sweetheart. But you must promise me you’ll never touch yourself alone. If you do, you’ll ruin everything Daddy and I have worked so hard to build.”

Lily promised, because there was nothing else she could do. Her mother kissed her forehead and whispered, “Go back to bed now. You’ll feel better in the morning. And if you ever need help again, just ask.”

Lily staggered out of the room, legs weak and sticky, and made her way down the dark hallway. The ache that had kept her awake was worse than ever, and she wondered why her mother thought this was supposed to help. She finally collapsed into bed, and fell into a fitful sleep, pressing her thighs together to ease her desperation.

Every night after that, as the weather turned sticky and the sun hesitated just above the horizon, Lily lay awake in the deranged pulse of her own body, haunted by the memory of her mother’s hands and the sharp, malicious ache that followed. It was a feeling with no name, or maybe with too many, and it scorched her from the inside out. She tried to obey, clenching herself tight as she drifted off, but the need gnawed at her until she was raw.

The ritual became a rhythm. It was never spoken of during the day, but every few nights, when her father was gone, Lily would find herself hovering outside her mother’s door, the ache so familiar now it may as well have been a sixth sense. If she waited, the ache would only gnaw at her harder; if she knocked, her mother would be there instantly, as if she’d been expecting this exact collision of need and shame. Sometimes, Elizabeth’s voice would reach her before she could even rap her knuckle: “Come in, baby.” After the first few times, Lily stopped wearing pajamas to bed, the path from her own room to her mother’s a direct line, almost gravitational.

Elizabeth stopped wearing nightgowns to bed as well. Lily noticed the first time when she slipped into her mother’s room expecting the familiar cotton halo, and instead found her mother perched among pillows, her pale skin moonlit and unadorned, nipples shadowed against the slopes of her heavy breasts. Elizabeth didn’t acknowledge the change, but Lily’s eyes couldn’t look away. Each visit after that, her mother’s body became as familiar to Lily as her own reflection.

The lessons changed, too. Elizabeth tried new things, each night a different flavor of guidance. Sometimes she would warm a bottle of oil between her palms, then coat herself and Lily with it, their bodies sliding against each other with a frictionless, slippery warmth that left Lily gasping and giggling. Elizabeth would drizzle a ribbon down the line of Lily’s stomach, then push it into every crease, every dip, massaging it under her arms, behind her knees, between her toes. She’d cup Lily’s bottom in her hands and knead, rolling the flesh as if testing the ripeness of fruit. When she was finished, Lily glistened in the light like a newborn animal, sticky and impossible to hold onto.

On other nights, Elizabeth made Lily taste herself. She’d coax her daughter’s chin up, locking eyes, then slide two fingers into her mouth, slow and wet, and wait until Lily licked them clean. Sometimes Elizabeth would taste, too, sucking the glistening tips with a savoring, greedy hunger, as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks. The taste wasn’t what Lily had expected, but the thrill of watching her mother savor it was dizzying.

Elizabeth’s methods were devious and sometimes humiliating. One night, she produced a makeup brush from her vanity and explained, with a straight face, that “sensation is everything for a girl’s body.” She began with Lily’s face, stroking her cheeks and eyelids with the soft bristles, then trailed it down her neck, across her collarbone, pausing at every hollow. Lily moaned helplessly as the brush tip circled around her nipples, then lower, painting invisible trails down her belly. When Elizabeth finally let the brush skim over the top of Lily’s slit, it drove her wild with frustration; a touch so maddeningly light it made her want to scream. Elizabeth spent what felt like hours teasing her, drawing delicate lines up and down, skimming Lily’s trembling thighs, dipping just inside, and then pulling away the moment Lily’s hips jerked up in search of more. When the desperate trembling grew too much, Elizabeth would put the brush aside and use her mouth; tongue and teeth and lips everywhere, wet and questing, lapping at the sticky points where Lily’s arousal had begun to pool. Only then, at the very edge of a scream, would her mother withdraw, leaving Lily dangling and wild, her body fuzzed with electricity.

Elizabeth never let her finish. If Lily’s body went rigid, if she started to make the noises she’d heard from the hallway that first night, Elizabeth would stop cold and fold her in tight, arms squeezing all the movement out of her. A pillow pressed to Lily’s chest, a breathless “Shh, shh, it’s all right, let it pass,” her mother’s voice slipping into her ear and freezing the moment in place until the moment receded and left only the hungry, stupid ache. Lily hated her mother for it, sometimes. She wanted to scream, to punch, to slam her fists on the mattress and tell her to stop being so cruel. But even as the tears slid down her cheeks, even as she swore that this time would be the last, she found herself crawling back to that door, fists curled and thighs sticky, waiting for the ritual to begin anew.

On the days her father was home, Lily started to see him differently, to sense a gravitational force that pulled every moment in the house towards him, no matter how far she was from the center. It wasn’t just the way Elizabeth orbited William, never letting his glass go dry or his shirts come back from the laundry with a single loose thread. Lily found herself watching him with new attention: the way he used his steak knife, the steady click of his watch, the low, deliberate cadence of his voice. She began to anticipate his needs before he said a word.

She started by bringing him his slippers. He was always home by six, and by 5:45 Lily would sneak into the front closet, pluck the leather pair off the top shelf, and set them at the base of his favorite chair. Then she’d hover nearby, pretending to sort the mail or dust a table, waiting for him to see her work. He’d nod at her, and the acknowledgment sent a thrill through her chest, like a secret handshake.

At dinner, Lily made it her mission to refill his water glass before he asked. She watched for the moment when condensation beaded on his fingers, the glass half-empty and the ice already melted, and she’d leap up to the kitchen, return with a fresh one, and set it quietly by his right hand. William would barely look at her, but when he did, his eyes lingered a little longer than before. Lily glowed under the attention, even when it came in the form of silence.

Elizabeth noticed, of course. She watched the interplay with a satisfaction that bordered on smug. Once, when William was out late at a dinner meeting, she caught Lily at the kitchen table, arranging his morning vitamins into color-coded piles.

“You really do want to please him, don’t you?” Elizabeth asked, voice soft and conspiratorial.

Lily’s cheeks went hot. “I just want to help.”

Her mother beamed, brushing Lily’s hair back with a tenderness that was almost worshipful. “That’s my good girl.”

Some nights, after William had gone to bed, Lily would curl up on the living room sofa with her mother, TV flickering in the background. Elizabeth would stroke Lily’s hair and tell her stories about the old days, how she met William in college, how he used to show up at her apartment with a bottle of cheap wine and lecture her about politics, how he’d always had a vision for their future.

“He picked me, you know,” Elizabeth said once, her voice dreamy. “Out of all the girls in the city. He said I had the right temperament.” She stroked Lily’s cheek, a thumb grazing the curve of her jaw. “He was right.”

Lily wondered what her own “temperament” was. She wondered if William saw anything worth picking in her.

The next night, Lily awoke to the sound of her parents’ voices. Lily lay with her knees drawn up, covers bunched at her chest, listening to the hush and surge of her parents’ words. They weren’t fighting; the sound was more like a game of catch, words tossed and retrieved with a mutual glee. She could only catch fragments, but the rhythm was familiar: her father’s measured rumble, her mother’s breathless giggle. The air in Lily’s room felt thick, still buzzing with last week’s memory. She sat up, swung her feet to the floor, and pressed her ear to the wall.

She heard a high, staccato laugh, followed by a series of small, pleading noises that made Lily’s breath go sharp in her lungs. She hesitated, then crept into the hallway, heart knocking against her ribs. The carpet muffled her steps. This time, the door to her parents’ room was open just a sliver, and Lily’s feet moved before her mind had time to scold her for it. She leaned in, cheek pressed to the glossy paint, and peered through the gap.

The room was dim and glowing, light seeping out from behind heavy curtains. Her parents were on the bed, but not how she’d seen them last. Elizabeth was straddling her father this time, her wide hips rocking in slow, greedy circles. The sight should have made Lily’s insides knot with shame, but she felt the opposite: a wild, reckless curiosity, as if the ache in her core had grown eyes and was staring right back.

William’s hands gripped Elizabeth’s waist, his knuckles white, but her mother was the one making all the sounds, those same little yelps and whimpers, but now layered with words. “God, you’re so hard tonight, Sir,” Elizabeth panted, her voice high and frantic. “I can feel you everywhere inside me— oh God, I can feel you everywhere.” The rhythm of her hips changed, faster now, her voice rising in little increments, each moan sharper than the last. William’s hands left her waist and slid up to her chest, squeezing her breasts so hard Lily thought they might leave marks. Elizabeth shrieked, head thrown back, hair wild around her shoulders.

“Slow down,” William muttered, voice rough with effort. “You want to finish before me? Greedy girl.”

Elizabeth giggled, but the sound faltered into a whimper. She clung to his forearms, nails biting in, driving herself down harder on his cock. “I can’t help it,” she gasped. “You make me so fucking desperate. I’m going to make a mess all over you— look, I’m dripping! It’s everywhere.” Her words tangled into a stream, every sentence more frantic and needy.

Lily’s head swam; the air seemed thinner, the shadows on the walls flickering with each movement of her mother’s hips. Elizabeth was talking without thinking, the words tumbling out in a ragged, hungry string.

Elizabeth continued, voice raw and quivering, “You think I’m greedy? You should see Lily, oh my god. She’s so desperate for you, William. You don’t even notice; she walks around the house with her little nipples poking through her shirts, always staring at you, always wanting to make you proud.

William grunted, his rhythm breaking for a moment, but Elizabeth didn’t stop. “She wants it, too. I can tell. She’s so wet all the time, I can smell it on her when I tuck her in at night! She’s been dreaming about you, about this, I swear to god.” Her voice cracked like she might start sobbing, but she kept talking. “You should see her, William, she looks just like me at that age. Same mouth, same tits. All soft and pink and desperate and needy, juice running down her thighs. She can’t even hide it when she’s at the table; it leaks through her panties and onto her chair.”

William’s hands slowed, fingers digging into Elizabeth’s doughy hips. Lily could see the shudder in his arms, the falter in his breath. He didn’t say anything, but his jaw clenched, and the muscles along his shoulders flexed tight beneath the skin. Elizabeth rode him harder, planting her hands flat on his chest, nails splayed wide.

“She’ll be ready soon,” Elizabeth choked out, eyes wild and glassy. “You’ll be the first, William. I want you to fuck our baby just like you fuck me. I want to see her split open on your cock, crying for more, and I want to watch every second of it.” She was sobbing now, incoherent, her words tripping over each other in a fever dream of longing and humiliation.

William’s composure broke. The cool mask he wore with the world vanished, replaced by something raw and stunned and animal. His hands crushed her mother’s hips, making pink welts blossom above the bone; Elizabeth yelped, but she arched into it, her thighs trembling so hard she nearly lost her seat. “Say it again,” William growled. The words spat out, ragged and hoarse.

Elizabeth’s voice fell to a trembling, greedy whisper. “I want you to breed her, William. I want to see her heavy with your baby, our baby; see her belly swell, her little tits leak milk for you all night. I want her ruined for anyone else. Your little slut. Breed her, William. Please, please, please—"

William pulled her down by the hair, his voice a ragged snarl lost in Elizabeth’s neck. The thump and slap of their bodies blurred into a single, animal rhythm. Lily wanted to run, wanted to melt straight through the floor and never come back, but her toes curled into the carpet and she couldn’t move. Her own hips rocked unconsciously, in time with the violence inside the room. Her hands, tight at her sides, ached to press between her legs, to do anything to relieve the swelling, pulsing heat that was now as much a part of her as her own heartbeat.

Elizabeth’s sudden howl cut the rhythm, high and broken and then stifled as William shoved her face down into the mattress. His voice echoed, thick and final: “You’re fucking sick, baby. But you’re mine. All of you. Both of you. Forever.”

All characters are 18+.

Mark hoped that the rest of the day might proceed normally. Fetching a fresh mug of coffee, he moved to the living room and sat with a book in his leather armchair. He soon found himself lost in thought, and did not read a word.

After finding something else to eat for breakfast, Sophia padded into the living room as well. She curled up on the couch, and pulled her knees up to her chest, staring into the middle distance. Whenever Mark coughed or shifted in his seat, she would jerk to attention, as if bracing for a command. The room was filled with a species of silence that Mark was not used to living with.

After a half hour of this, Mark set his coffee down and cleared his throat. “I was thinking,” he began, “maybe we should see someone.”

A flash of fear twisted Sophia’s face. “No. Please,” She answered in a small voice.

Mark held up both hands in apology. “I mean, maybe there’s a specialist; someone who knows about this kind of thing. A psychologist, or some kind of therapy…” He had no idea if there was even a cure for whatever had happened to Sophia, but he had to try something.

Sophia shook her head violently. “No doctors. No lab coats. No white rooms.” she said, her voice trembling on the edge of remembered terror. “Please, Daddy. Please.”

He saw then that she was on the verge of tears again, the raw panic rolling off her in sheets. Mark made a mental facepalm. “Okay. No doctors. We’ll figure it out on our own. I’m retired now, so I’ve got all the time in the world to help you.”

The look of relief on Sophia’s face was obvious to Mark, so he tried another approach. “How about we just try… normal stuff,” he said. “Whatever you want. We could watch a movie, play board games, or just talk. You can practice being a regular person again.”

Sophia’s eyes brightened at the idea. “Do you really think that would help?” She asked.

“I’m not sure, but it’s worth a shot,” Mark replied honestly. “What do you want to do today, Soph?”

There was a long pause, a visible calculation in the way Sophia’s mouth worked around the question. She seemed to be searching for the right thing to say, as if the wrong one would bring punishment and pain. Finally, in a tentative voice, she asked, “What I want?”

“Of course! You can pick. Anything.”

It had been so long since Sophia had been given any agency in her daily life. After another pause, she came to a depressing answer. “I don’t know,” she admitted in confusion. “I don’t know what I want.”

“That’s okay,” Mark replied, trying to stay positive. “How about I beat your ass at chess like I used to? It’s been too long since we last played.”

Sophia’s cheeks turned red at his phrasing, but still let out a small giggle. “You must be getting dementia, old man! I always win at chess.”

Mark stood up and walked to the bookshelf, pulling the chess set down from where it had lain untouched for years. He grinned at Sophia, keeping the banter going. “Oh that’s right! I forgot that I always let you win, since you’re such a sore loser.”

Sophia started setting up the chess set. “Am not! You just don’t think far enough ahead; that’s why you always lose!”

“We’ll see about that, young lady!” With the game ready, Mark made the first move with a white piece to the center of the board. “Who dares challenge my pawn? Step forth!”

Sophia said nothing. Mark’s grin faded from his face, and he saw Sophia’s eyes flicking from piece to piece. Sophia’s hand hovered above the pieces, trembling faintly. She still knew the rules of the game, but she couldn’t make a move.

Her breath started coming more quickly. Why couldn’t she pick up a piece?

Mark watched in confusion at what was playing out before him. “Your move, Soph,” he prompted.

The words tripped a cascade of panic. “Yes, Daddy!” Sophia’s hand trembled, still hovering above the pawns. Sweat burst along her brow, and she let out a high, animal whimper as her fingertips grazed the cool plastic. She could not move it. Her brain screamed at her body to just grab the piece and put it down, but the command stopped at the wrist like a roadblock. Sophia started hyperventilating; she could not even twitch a pawn without explicit direction. She was a passenger in her own meat, helpless save for the hot, sick pulse between her legs.

“Which piece do I move?” she blurted, her voice louder than intended. “What’s the right move, Daddy?”

Mark instantly regretted not thinking this through. Sophia’s eyes were wide and pleading as she waited for instructions, and Mark quickly moved to hold her.

“Shhh, it’s alright, baby. You’re okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and tried to make her feel safe. Sophia instinctively nuzzled against Mark’s flannel-covered chest, inhaling deeply. He smelled like whiskey and firewood. He smelled like a man, and she clawed at his shirt and squeezed her thighs together instinctively. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” she whispered into his chest.

Mark rocked her gently, trying not to notice the rigid press of her nipples against his arm, or the way she seemed to melt and harden at the same time in his grip. He squeezed her shoulders, then let go, and made his voice calm and measured. “Sophia. It’s all right. There’s no wrong move. You can play however you want.” He reached over and nudged a black pawn forward himself, making the choice for her.

The effect was immediate. The tension in Sophia’s shoulders vanished, and she exhaled in a rush, relief flooding her body. She looked up with her clear blue eyes, and smiled adoringly at her father. Mark gave a hollow smile in return, and sighed heavily, frustrated at the outcome of the game.

“Maybe we’ll skip chess for now, Soph.”

---

Mark waited until Sophia had righted herself and her breath had steadied before speaking again. “How about you give me a hand with some chores? This place is a disaster.”

Sophia perked up at once, the flash of new purpose overriding her residual embarrassment. “Of course! What should I do?” Her voice was bright and eager, as if she were a child again, desperate for a gold star.

Mark allowed himself a moment to appreciate her enthusiasm, even as the context made his stomach sour. He used to have to bribe her to take out the garbage; now she was practically vibrating with anticipation. “Let’s start simple,” he said. “You can sweep the living room; the broom’s in the closet by the kitchen.”

Darting to her feet, Sophia padded off toward the kitchen, her exaggerated curves jostling with every step, and was back in seconds with the broom. She moved with a quick, mechanical efficiency, clearly relishing the task. Mark moved to the kitchen, not wanting to dwell on this new side of his daughter. He opened the dishwasher, intent on emptying it before the stack of plates in the sink grew insurmountable. He was only three cups deep when Sophia appeared at his elbow, hands fluttering with an anxious energy.

“I can do that for you,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush.

“It’s fine, Soph. I’ve got this.”

But she hovered, arms tensed awkwardly at her sides, as if waiting for a more direct answer. Her gaze flickered from Mark’s face to the half-full dishwasher to the broom she’d left propped against the fridge. “I should be the one cleaning up.” There was a tremor in her voice. “That’s my job.”

Mark clenched his jaw. “Sophia. You don’t have a job here, baby. You’re not a maid or anything like that. You just live here, like you used to.”

She flinched, the wordless instinct to self-flagellate tripping her into a small, frantic bow. “Sorry, Daddy! You’re right. I’ll just… sweep the living room,” she said, and retreated from the kitchen. Mark watched her unconscious submission, realizing how much he’d already failed her without even trying.

The rest of the day unfolded in uneasy intervals. Sophia swept every corner of the house, her diligence bordering on obsessive. Dust bunnies cowered beneath the couch until she rooted them out; stray crumbs vanished from the baseboards. Her movements were methodical and efficient, but whenever Mark walked by, he noticed her posture would shift, breath catching, hips twisting, lips parting slightly. At first Mark dismissed it as fatigue, or nerves, but as he passed her again on his way to his office, he noticed a peculiar smell; sweet and musky, and vaguely familiar.

As he collected half empty cups from his desk, he tried to place it. It wasn't perfume; Sophia never wore perfume, not even in high school, when the other girls doused themselves in cloying floral clouds. The scent tugged at some old, animal part of his brain, and for a beat he was lost in the memory of his late wife, the way she would press herself against him at the end of the day, the way her sweat would mingle with the heady perfume of arousal. The memory flashed, unwanted, and he recoiled.

It was the smell of sex. Of pussy.

He braced himself against his desk and squeezed his eyes shut. What had happened to his daughter? He had to find a way to fix this.

Returning to the kitchen with his arms full of dirty dishes, he found Sophia on all fours in the hallway, scrubbing at a stain with an old washcloth. With each motion, the hem of her shirt would rise, bunching around her ribs, briefly exposing the undercurve of her swollen breasts. Then he saw the dark bloom spreading between her legs, the fabric at her crotch turning two shades darker as the shorts wicked up her fluids. For a moment Mark thought she’d pissed herself, but it was too viscous. The moisture outlined her sex in perfect, obscene detail. Every plush fold, every cleft and contour, every shadow of her labia was glued to the fabric so closely that Mark could see it as clearly as if she were naked.

The realization made him dizzy. His daughter was leaking.

She didn’t seem to notice, and Mark didn’t dare to bring it to her attention. Eventually, the house was as clean as Sophia could make it, and Mark called her into the kitchen to help prep dinner.

Cooking actually went fairly well, to Mark’s pleasant surprise. He chopped vegetables while Sophia read aloud the recipe, meticulous in her measurements, careful to check each instruction twice. Sophia kept a running tally of ingredients, her hands always in motion, fetching salt or flour or a fresh paper towel before Mark finished asking. She smiled when the first pan began to sizzle, and for a few moments, father and daughter were just two people cooking together on a rainy Saturday. Mark found himself relaxing; the kitchen felt less like a crash site and more like the beating heart of a home.

When the meal was ready, Mark set the table and gestured for Sophia to sit. He didn’t want to hover, or make her feel surveilled, so he forced himself to move with deliberate slowness. He poured them both glasses of water, then took a seat at the head of the table, watching Sophia through the steam rising off the casserole dish.

Sophia attacked the meal with a hungry precision Mark had not seen since she was a growing teenager. She chewed thoughtfully, and when she finished a mouthful, she dabbed the corners of her mouth and folded her hands on her lap. Mark realized, with a hot flush of embarrassment, that he was waiting for her to do something strange or animalistic, but there was only calm, focused eating.

Maybe this could work, Mark thought. If they just kept doing normal things, if he modeled being a regular person for Sophia, maybe she could find herself again.

"You seem a bit more yourself tonight," Mark said, choosing his words carefully. "Is the practice helping, do you think? Doing normal things?"

Sophia looked down at her plate. “I don’t know,” she said. “It helps to have something to do. Even if it’s silly, or small.”

Mark nodded, uncertain how to offer more encouragement in the face of her caution.

When dinner was over, Mark got up to do the dishes. Sophia, realizing where he was going, immediately asked if she could do them instead. Mark decided to pick his battles this time, and let her win this one. Sophia started washing the plates, and Mark moved to his armchair with a glass of whiskey and an old paperback. He felt like he should give his daughter some space after such a rough day.

As he continued his book, Mark listened to the domestic sounds of clinking plates and running water from the kitchen. It almost felt normal, and he could almost believe the house contained a functioning family again. He closed his eyes, book forgotten, and drifted into a nap.

---

When he woke up a half hour later, something had changed. He pondered for a minute, and then realized that the kitchen sounds had stopped. Mark glanced at the doorway, alarmed first by the stillness and then by the fact that Sophia had not emerged. Then, from the kitchen, he heard a faint, high whimper.

Standing up, Mark walked toward the kitchen to make sure Sophia was alright. The sounds became clearer as he approached; a rhythmic squelching sound layered over the moans. He stopped at the threshold, his hand hovering over the doorframe, afraid of what he might find.

Sophia was sitting on the floor with her back to the sink, legs drawn up and spread, shorts and panties strewn across the tile floor. One hand was buried between her thighs, working in frantic, spastic jerks; the other was clamped over her mouth, unsuccessfully attempting to stifle the pathetic whimpers. Her face was flushed, eyes red and glassy, and tears leaked down her cheeks in twin tracks.

He watched, paralyzed by shock, as Sophia’s hand worked with increasing desperation. Sophia’s fingers plunged in and out of her slit with a violence that spoke of months of frustration. Her palm smeared the slick all over her mound, her knuckles shining with mucus-like strings that stretched and broke with each frantic thrust. The room echoed with the slap of palm on flesh, the wet squelch of juices, the mewling whines that spiraled up in pitch as she chased her need.

When she finally noticed Mark in the doorway, she didn’t stop. Instead, she looked directly at him, the panic in her eyes softened by a plea for mercy. “I couldn’t help it,” she choked out, her breath hitching around the words. “I can’t stop it. And I can’t—” Her voice broke completely. “I can’t cum! I can’t! They won’t let me!”

The hand between her legs stuttered, then pressed harder, fingers shaking. Sophia sobbed, the sound raw and animal, then slumped onto the floor in a fetal position. Her whole body trembled, the violence of the effort leaving her limp and spent. She curled in on herself, eyes shut tight as if refusing the horror of her own body’s betrayal, apologizing through her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Mark finally snapped out of it, and he rushed over to her side to comfort her. Kneeling beside her half-naked body, he grabbed her shoulders and tried to find the right words.

“Sophia. It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. You don’t have to be ashamed.” He gathered her up into his arms, and pulled Sophia’s hand out from where it was still stuck between her legs. Mark cringed at the horrible sucking sound, and the strings of her arousal that broke and spattered his forearm. It didn’t matter. His daughter needed him.

She whimpered again as he did so, and then burrowed her face into his chest, fingers clawing the fabric of his shirt, and Mark felt her heart thundering through both their ribs. He carried her to the living room, settling onto the old couch with Sophia curled in his arms. Her bare ass was naked and squirming against his lap, and her whole body trembled with little spasms. He shushed her, murmuring softly to her, the way he’d done when she was a feverish child.

“It’s okay baby, it’s alright. Daddy’s got you.” He tried to calm her, hoping desperately that she couldn’t feel his throbbing erection through his pants. Sophia’s tears soaked his shirt as she hyperventilated, still apologizing between gulps of air. The shame and panic started to bleed out of her, replaced by a bruised exhaustion.

When her breathing finally slowed, she lay limp against him, eyes squeezed shut, her cheek mashed into his collarbone. Mark tucked her hair behind her ear and let his hand rest in the space between her shoulder blades, attempting to broadcast only the calm, platonic care she needed.

After sitting with Sophia for some time, he noticed that she had fallen asleep. Mark carefully stood up, maneuvering her so she was facing him with her head lolling on his shoulder, and took her up the stairs. She felt so small in his arms, even after all these years. He tried to ignore the way her skin squished slick against his forearms, or the way the soft, smooth flesh of her ass jiggled as he adjusted her weight. Her shorts and panties, abandoned in the kitchen, had left her exposed, and as Mark mounted the stairs, a hot stripe of Sophia’s arousal traced down his arm to the crook of his elbow.

Upon reaching the top, he shouldered open the door to her childhood room, but stopped short at the sight of the dog bed in the corner. No. Not tonight. She deserved better than to sleep on the floor again.

Instead, trying not to think about it too much, he turned around and carried her to his own bedroom. He laid Sophia down as gently as he could, untangling her limp limbs from his grip, and drew the comforter up to her chin.

He lingered for a moment at the side of the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. The sight of his daughter, her face slack and peaceful at last, should have brought solace. Instead it filled him with something that hovered between grief and rage.

He thought about going downstairs and pouring another drink, but the idea of leaving her alone felt wrong, given the terrible end to the day. He quietly undressed down to his boxers, and climbed into the other side of the bed.

Sleep did not come easy. He lay on his back, staring at the knots in the wood paneling on the ceiling, listening to the sounds of Sophia’s breathing and his own thundering pulse. So many thoughts kept running through his head. He tried to imagine a world where things returned to normal, a world in which Sophia’s conditioning could be cured, but Mark was not a man accustomed to optimism. Eventually, however, exhaustion took him as well, and he slept.

The familiar sound of the front door opening and the accompanying jingle of keys brought a mixture of excitement and nervousness to Lily’s heart. Her father had just returned from his day at the office, and she never knew what to expect from him. As she pulled some roasted vegetables from the oven, her mother let out a tiny, involuntary gasp.

Elizabeth’s cheeks blushed a feverish pink, a sly smile blooming across her lips. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and whispered to her daughter, “Your daddy’s home,” as if it were a secret just for the two of them.

William appeared in the doorway, a statue in business-casual: baby blue shirt, sleeves rolled, the day’s tie still knotted at his throat. He scanned the counter, then the stove, then the two women in their aprons. His gaze lingered on Lily, just long enough to make her shiver, then moved to Elizabeth, who beamed up at him with adoration.

“Dinner smells wonderful,” William said with approval. He dropped his black leather briefcase on the island and loosened his tie with a single finger. The movement was so clean, so practiced, Lily was certain he’d rehearsed it for years in boardrooms and family living rooms, always keeping the audience on edge.

Elizabeth set down the tongs with a clatter and crossed the kitchen with an excitement that made Lily’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. Her mother rose onto her tiptoes, her chubby frame pressing against William as she kissed him fervently. With her mouth pressed to his, Elizabeth released a small, needy whimper that seemed to resonate through the tiled floor beneath them. William’s hand found the back of her neck, his thumb gliding over her softened jawline as he kissed her again, deeper this time, while his other hand slid around to rest possessively below the small of her back, drawing her closer.

Lily looked away, her cheeks prickling with heat, and focused her attention on scraping sweet potato off the baking sheet. She tried not to listen to the kissing, but the sounds kept happening, wet and insistent, as if her parents were determined to swallow each other whole before dinner. After a long, syrupy moment, her father’s voice cut the silence again.

“Have you been good today?”

“Yes, Sir,” her mother whispered. Lily remembered when she’d asked her mother years ago why she called him Sir. Elizabeth had smiled in a way that wasn’t quite a smile, saying, “Some wives call their husbands darling, or baby. I just like calling him sir. It’s old-fashioned, isn’t it?” She’d ruffled Lily’s hair as if to erase the question from the air.

William’s gaze shifted, finally, to Lily. The air seemed to contract around her. He let go of Elizabeth but kept a hand on her hip, as if she were a personal belonging he’d set down for just a moment. Lily’s fingers tightened around the spatula.

“Did you help your mother with dinner, Lily?” he asked in a serious tone.

“Yes, Daddy,” she managed, the words slipping out in a whisper.

Her father smiled. “Good girl.” William stepped towards her, and Lily saw the shadow of his arm before she felt the weight of his fingers against her jaw, callused and warm, pulling her gently but inescapably into his orbit. She barely registered her mother stepping aside, melting away into the background, eyes glazed and lips parted.

A thumb swept along Lily’s chin, tilting her face up, and her pulse thudded in her ears. Her father’s rough tongue possessively invading her wet mouth. His hand clamped the back of her neck, thumb braced at the hinge of her jaw, holding her open to him until she forgot how to breathe through her nose. The whole kitchen seemed to tip sideways. Lily felt herself melting, or maybe dissolving, under the heat of his wanting.

This was how he always greeted her now. At first, she’d assumed all fathers kissed their daughters this way, with tongue, saliva, and a slow, lingering exhale afterward. But none of her friends’ fathers kissed them at all as far as she could tell, and so Lily learned not to ask them about it again.

Lately, however, she had started feeling very strange whenever her father paid her attention. Her cheeks would get very hot, her breath would catch in her throat, and her heart would pound loudly against her developing chest. She wasn’t sure what it all meant. Her daddy finally pulled away from her, a thin strand of saliva breaking between them and falling onto Lily’s apron. Her legs almost gave out from under her.

“Go wash up, darling,” he said, voice gentled now. “We’ll eat in five.”

They ate together at the formal dining table, plates arranged with geometric precision, napkins crisp and standing at attention. William cut into his steak with surgical neatness, the knife gliding through the meat as if the blade were part of his hand. He chewed methodically, in total silence, until the first splash of whiskey hit his tongue.

“So what did you do today, Lily? I hope you don’t miss school too much.”

Lily looked down at her potatoes. Her parents had pulled her out of her classes last year, telling her that there was more for a girl to learn at home than in the classroom.

Lily hesitated for a moment, fork paused at her lips. She felt both terrified and thrilled to be the object of her father’s scrutiny. “I cleaned the house with Mommy, practiced my piano scales, and then read my book for a while” she answered. The book was a gift from Elizabeth, titled The Female Condition, all about how a lady should behave in a modern society. She glanced at her mother, who was absorbed in buttering a roll, the smooth pads of her fingers leaving little dents in the crust.

William nodded, pleased. “Good. You know, most girls your age would waste a day staring at their phones.” He took a sip of whiskey and set his glass with a heavy clink. “But you’re not most girls, are you?”

She felt the familiar glow of pride warm her belly. “No, Daddy.”

“She’s our perfect girl”, Elizabeth chimed in.

The meal continued in a similar vein, with her father leading the dinner conversation, and her mother hanging onto his every word. When the plates were empty, Elizabeth stacked them with trembling care, whisking them away to the kitchen. William finished the last of his whiskey and pressed his napkin to the corner of his mouth, dabbing a spot that wasn’t there. He looked at Lily for a long time, then: “Clear your plate, Lily. And then get yourself ready for bed.”

She obeyed, putting away the leftovers and rinsing her dish with frantic precision. Her mother was already elbow-deep in soapsuds, humming under her breath, movements jittery and uneven. William stood behind his wife, pressing his body close as she scrubbed; a silent, possessive gesture that made Lily want to close her eyes and disappear. Instead, she dried her plate and set it in its slot, then slipped down the hallway and retreated to her room.

---

Lily woke up parched, the residue of a dream already slipping away. The house was silent except for the metronome tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. Lily blinked at the darkness, her mouth sandpaper dry, and sat up, squinting at the digital alarm glowing 1:04.

Lily slid out of bed, bare feet scuffing against the cold wood, and padded into the hallway towards the restroom. Further down the hall, the door to her parents’ room was cracked, the space between emanating warm light. She paused, instinct telling her to move quietly; any noise at this hour felt criminal, a trespass against the order of things.

As she edged down the hall, a sound pried through the gap in the door: a long, keening moan, muffled and wet, but more than a sob; something between pleading and pain. Footsteps, muffled but heavy, echoed behind it. Lily’s body flushed cold, then feverish, and she pressed against the wall, certain she would be caught. But the noises continued: a low, steady rumble, then sharp words she couldn’t quite make out. Was it an argument? A fight? Was her mother all right?

She tiptoed closer, just enough to peek through the slit between the white-painted doors. At first, she saw her mother on her hands and knees, face buried in the sheets, hair spilled loose and wild. Her father was behind her, one fist tangled in her hair, the other pressing her shoulder down with punishing force.

Lily’s breath caught. Her mother’s face was red and splotchy, the eyes so tightly shut they wrinkled the soft skin at her temples. Each time William’s hips drove forward, Elizabeth’s whole body jerked like it had been shocked. She was making a noise Lily had never heard before: half-cry, half-pant. When William grunted, it sounded like rage.

Lily’s first thought was that she’d caught her parents fighting, but then she saw her mother’s hands. Elizabeth’s fingers were clenched tight around the edge of the mattress, but she wasn’t trying to get away. She was holding on, white-knuckled, arms shaking. William gave another thrust and Elizabeth’s head dropped, mouth open wide like she was drowning.

Lily knew that she should look away, but something kept her gaze locked on the scene unfolding before her. She watched as William pulled her mother upright by the hair. She gasped, a noise both pained and pleading. William leaned in, his mouth pressed to Elizabeth’s ear, his breath loud and ragged. “You like that, don’t you?” he said, his voice thick and close. “You like being used, you filthy slut. My little toy.”

The sight punched something loose in Lily’s chest. She’d never seen her mother like this; so completely vulnerable, so naked. Not just without clothes, but stripped of any shame or motherly composure. Elizabeth’s body was pale and soft all over, sweat sticking the hair to her shoulders and neck. Her breasts swung heavy, flushed at the tips and marked by William’s handprints, and they seemed impossibly large, veined and swollen as she swayed forward. There was something obscene about the way Elizabeth’s body shook and reacted, as if every part of her was built only for this.

Her mother made a strangled, pleading noise. “Please, William,” she sobbed. “Please.” The words broke apart, half-swallowed by the pillow.

He yanked her head up again, exposing the length of her neck, the line of spit trailing from her mouth to the sheets. Lily’s own mouth hung open, and she caught herself, jaw snapping shut. Her skin crawled, but she couldn’t look away.

“You want to cum, little toy?” William’s tone had changed. It was the one he used when he was upset with Lily. “Then beg for it.”

Elizabeth’s answer was barely a word, just a wet, desperate keening. She arched her back, thighs trembling, tears streaking down to mingle with the sweat at her jaw. “Please, William,” she whispered again. “Please let me… please let me cum, I need it, I need it so bad, I’m—” Her voice hitched, broke, and she buried her face in the sheets.

William snorted, a sound half amusement and half disgust. “You need it? Hah. Listen to yourself, begging like a bitch in heat.” His hand slid from her hair to her mouth, fingers pushing between her lips, pinning her jaw open like she was something to be handled. “God, you’re even wetter than this morning. Pathetic.”

William’s voice sank to a gravelly whisper. “You’re lucky I let you have anything at all.” He pushed harder, flesh slapping, sweat running down his sides in ribbons. “You don’t even deserve it.” William slammed forward, harder, and Elizabeth’s hips began to buck beneath him, erratic and involuntary. The mattress shook with each thrust, the bed springs squealing, the whole bed frame edging closer to the wall in a lurching rhythm. Elizabeth’s legs splayed wider, her toes curling against the white sheets, and Lily’s toes curled in sympathy.

William’s hand suddenly whipped down between her Mommy’s thighs. The sound was obscene, a wet splat that echoed in the hallway, and Elizabeth shrieked, her body recoiling and then bucking forward with an animal desperation. Lily covered her mouth, pulse skittering.

William slapped her again, harder, right where their bodies met. Elizabeth’s whole body jerked; her voice cracked into a wail. “No,” William said, his tone flat and final, “Not unless I tell you, whore.”

He landed another smack, and another, each one landing with a sharper report and a flicker of recoil in Elizabeth’s hips. The rhythm changed, became meaner; now he was barely fucking, just holding and slapping her, making her beg in gasps and stuttering yelps.

William let go of her mother’s hair. Elizabeth slumped forward, arms collapsing, and William’s palm slammed her down flat against the mattress. He drove his hips forward once more, and her mother’s eyes flashed open.

For a second, everything went still, the only sound the throb of blood in Lily’s own ears. Elizabeth’s face turned, cheek mashed to the mattress, and her eyes, streaked with mascara and animal with need, locked onto Lily’s. Lily’s vision tunneled. Her own hand shot up to cover her mouth, but it was too late: Elizabeth’s eyes had found her, pale and glassy, and for an instant Lily saw in them a flare of horror, of shame, maybe even relief.

Lily stumbled back, heel catching on the frayed rug, banged her shoulder on the opposite wall. She slammed her hand against her own lips to keep from squealing. She didn’t dare look again. She turned and ran, bare feet slapping the cold wood, breath hitching in thin, ragged gulps.

She dove into her bed and curled up, knees to her chest. Her heart still raced, her skin prickled with sweat, and the warmth between her legs had bloomed into something urgent and relentless. Her hands were shaking, and her panties clung wetly to her thighs where something had soaked through the cotton. Her heart battered at her chest with such violence she thought it might break through, burst out and leave her emptied, a husk.

---

The house was silent again. Or, more precisely, the house was pretending to be silent. The walls still held a memory of her mother’s voice, the heavy echo of her father’s grunts and threats, the rhythm of bodies meeting and parting. Lily’s own body hummed with adrenaline. When she pressed her knees together, an electric ache zipped through her, sharp and unbearable. She tried to smother the feeling, clenching her fists so hard her fingernails bit little crescents into her palms. But it refused to die down. It only grew, a tide that pulled her deeper each time she tried to turn away.

She curled tighter, squeezing her eyes shut, willing herself to go numb. But even as she tried, her traitor mind replayed what she’d seen; her father’s enormous hands in her mother’s hair, the way Elizabeth had gasped and whimpered and pushed her body back into his, as though being held down was a kind of mercy.

Lily felt sick, dizzy, but also… curious. There was something about it that made her want to scream, or to touch, or to run out into the frozen field and let the night swallow her whole.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Her body moved without her permission: first her hand creeping up her stomach, then higher, tracing the new curve of her breast. Her fingers were cold at first, but her skin burned beneath them. She let them hover, barely brushing the nipple, then circled it with the tip of one finger. It stiffened, just like it had when she was in front of the mirror, but the sensation was a hundred times more intense now, as if her whole chest was a bell and someone had rung it.

She gasped, clamped her hand over her mouth, heart stuttering. It felt like she’d been starved for air, and now every inch of her skin was gulping it down.

She slid her hand down, pausing at the hem of her panties. For a moment she just lay there, fingers flexing, toes curled. The urge was overwhelming. It was a pressure at her core; a restless twitch that wouldn’t let her be. She pressed her palm between her thighs, shuddered at the heat and the wetness she found there. It was slippery, sticky, and she almost recoiled, almost leapt from the bed in horror, but curiosity kept her rooted.

She prodded the slippery spot, more out of bewilderment than intent, and for one terrifying second thought she might have peed herself. But it didn’t smell sour or sting like accidents used to when she was small. The wetness was warm, almost soothing, and it clung to her skin in a way that left her breathless. She pushed her palm more firmly into the seam where her thighs met, heat blooming from some secret place she’d never noticed before.

Her fingers slipped and skittered, searching for purchase. She tried to find the exact shape of the ache. Maybe she needed to press harder, or rub faster, or hold still and count to ten like her mother did, sometimes, when she was about to lose her temper. She pictured Elizabeth’s face, twisted and red, her mouth open and desperate, and the image made Lily’s hand jerk in surprise.

Her hand jerked, then stilled. She pressed her palm down again, harder this time, bracing for another surge. Something was building; her muscles were tensing all at once, thighs squeezing tight, toes digging into the mattress. The ache was sharp and beautiful, a ripcord down her belly that left her gasping. Something was happening down there, something big and wild and maybe dangerous. She panicked, afraid she’d break herself if she didn’t stop, but the idea of pulling away was worse, like turning off a light and being left alone in the dark.

She kept going, wrist moving in tiny, frantic circles, breath hitching in her throat. Her eyes stung. She bit her knuckles, the taste of sweat and linen and iron from her own blood. She wanted to bury her face in the pillow and shriek, the way her mother had, but she didn’t dare.

She bit her knuckle to keep from crying out, but a low moan escaped anyway. It sounded nothing like her, nothing like the good girl she was supposed to be. She closed her eyes and saw only her mother’s face, slack with need, and her father’s voice, hard and merciless: You’re mine. Say it.

The pressure built and built, and just as she felt herself about to burst, the door slammed open, flooding her bedroom with light.

“Lily!” Her mother’s voice cut through the night.

Lily jerked upright, hands flying to her chest, panicking. For a moment she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. Elizabeth stood in the doorway, her thin nightgown clinging damply to her heavy curves, hair wild around her shoulders. Her eyes darted to Lily’s hands, then to the tangle of quilt and sheets, and her mouth twisted in an expression of disapproval, and something else.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Elizabeth whispered loudly, crossing the room.

Lily shrank away, heart hammering so loud she was certain her mother could hear it.

“I— I wasn’t—” she stammered, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t remember when she had seen her mother more upset.

“Don’t you ever, ever touch yourself there,” her mother said in a sharp, parental tone. “You hear me?”

Lily burst into tears. “I’m sorry Mommy!, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” The words poured out, soaked up by her mother’s shoulder as Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed and gathered Lily in a tight, doughy embrace. The smell of Elizabeth’s skin, sweaty and musky from her earlier exertions, flooded Lily’s nostrils. She pressed her hot, streaming face into her mother’s bosom, trying to will the rest of the world away.

Elizabeth rocked her, slow and steady, clutching Lily so close she almost couldn’t breathe. “Hush now, baby. Hush. I know how you feel.” She stroked Lily’s hair, the motions rough, but not entirely angry. “It’s not your fault. You just have to be strong. Good girls don’t touch themselves there. Do you understand?” Her voice dissolved at the edges. “Do you?”

Lily nodded, but the ache was still there, thick between her thighs, buzzing in the ends of her fingers. “But I don’t know what to do when it… happens,” she said in a rush, before she could lose her nerve. “It feels like something’s wrong. It’s itchy. And… hot.”

Elizabeth’s grip tightened, squeezing Lily’s head against her chest so fiercely that Lily wondered if her mother might try to smother the badness out of her. Her mother’s words were ragged and wet, as if she’d bitten them in half before releasing them to the air. “It’s not a disease, Lily. It’s just your body telling you it wants what you saw Mommy and Daddy doing.” Her hand snaked up and down Lily’s hair, but her grip was too tight, fingernails scraping the scalp, not quite comforting but grounding in its discomfort. “But the feeling is not for you to handle alone. When it happens again, you don’t touch yourself; come to me and I’ll help you. Alright?”

Lily’s breath stuttered, caught between sobs and confusion. “Okay Mommy, I’m so sorry!” Her mother rocked her gently, the way she’d done when Lily was small and feverish, before the world had grown teeth. Lily clung, trembling, to the plush warmth of her mother’s body, each sob rippling through her, dissolving as Elizabeth shushed her and petted her hair. Lily’s face pressed into the damp, pillowy curve of her mother’s chest, every breath thick with the musky trace of her skin. The ache inside her was still there, shuddering and persistent, even as her mother’s arms wrapped around her, unyielding.

“Are you going to tell Daddy?” Lily whispered.

Elizabeth’s breath caught, then released in a long, trembling sigh. Her hand stroked Lily’s hair, slow and heavy. “I tell your father everything, baby. But he’ll understand.”

All characters are 18+.

When Laura woke, her arousal had returned. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was; she only felt the lull of Evie's breathing and the stickiness of their naked skin pressed together. The cot beneath them was still damp, and stench of sweat and sex clung to the walls of the room. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the memory of the last night from replaying in her head. She failed. The image of Evie writhing and spasming, the taste of her daughter's mouth, and the feeling of the helpless grind of their bodies wouldn't go away.

Evie whimpered softly in her sleep. Laura looked down. Her daughter's face was resting on Laura's upper arm, mouth was slightly open, and hair plastered to her forehead by a sheen of sweat. There were faint bruises on Evie's neck where Laura had gripped her too tightly. A wave of nausea and guilt threatened to make Laura's empty stomach even emptier. How could she have abused her own daughter like that? Even if it was under the influence of whatever she had been injected with, her actions were inexcusable. Before the self-hatred could overwhelm her, however, it was interrupted by a painful soreness in her chest.

She shifted, careful not to wake Evie, and cupped a tentative hand to her left breast. It was shockingly firm and swollen, and the nipple looked darker than usual. Attempting to diagnose the issue, she pressed harder, and a white bead of liquid welled at the tip of her nipple and trickled down her chest. "What the hell…" she whispered, wiping it away with a trembling finger. How was it possible? The last time this had happened was many years ago when Evie was a newborn. Her milk had long since dried up, but here it was.

Telling herself to stay calm, Laura tried to peel herself from Evie with surgical care, but every movement pulled at their joined skin, the dried crust of their mingled arousal tacking them together. She managed to shift her hips, lifting Evie's thigh from between her own, but the girl stirred at the motion, lids fluttering open.

For a second Evie looked up at her mother with the blank trust of a waking child, the way she had years ago when night terrors still haunted her. Then Evie's gaze dropped to their naked bodies and immediately darted away, her cheeks red with shame. She wriggled out of Laura's grip and turned away from her mother, pulling herself into a ball and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Evie…" Laura tried to think of something to say. "I'm so sorry. I never—"

She couldn't finish. There was no possible apology that would be enough; no words to undo the fact that she had violated and raped her daughter.

Evie lay still for a while, facing the wall. Then Laura heard her groan in discomfort.

"Baby, what's wrong?" She cringed at hearing herself ask such a stupid question. Everything was wrong.

"My boobs hurt," Evie answered in a confused voice. She cupped her chest with both hands, massaging her breasts. The flesh beneath her palms was larger than before, nipples jutting and surrounded by puffy, swollen areolae. She poked the skin, then finally met her mother's gaze again, looking for guidance.

Laura didn't answer at first. She pressed her palm to her breast and watched as another thin thread of milk beaded at the tip, running down to her knuckles. She wiped it away, then found her daughter watching her with wide eyes.

"It's milk," Laura said. "I think it's from the shot. The nurse said it was a vaccine, but I think it did something else."

Evie glanced down at her chest, her breath hitching as she tentatively pinched the darkened tip between her thumb and forefinger. She flinched in pain but pressed harder, driven by a mix of curiosity and fear. To her astonishment, droplets began to form at the tip of her nipple. She watched, transfixed, as the first bead rolled slowly down her chest, leaving a shimmering trail across her ribcage. A shiver ran through her, a strange blend of pleasure and revulsion, and she recoiled instinctively, clutching her hands to her breast as more droplets gathered, threatening to spill over.

Her mouth twisted in disbelief, emotions swirling within her. Overcome with conflicting horror and pleasure, Evie squeezed her eyes shut, fists pressing hard against her face as tears broke free. She curled into herself, rocking back and forth while the liquid continued to well and drip from her nipples. Laura reached to comfort her, but Evie jerked away.

Without warning, the door to the cell clanged open, the sharp sound reverberating off the concrete. Three men entered wearing grey uniforms, and two carrying batons at their side. The third one held a clipboard. He stepped forward, gaze flicking from Laura to Evie and back to his papers.

Laura placed herself in front of Evie, covering her own breasts and groin with her hands. Behind her, Evie timidly did the same. The guards ignored the feeble displays of modesty. The one with the clipboard spoke in a bureaucratic monotone. "Laura Miller. Evelyn Miller. You are scheduled for processing; come with us."

"What processing? Why are you doing this? Tell us what's going on!" Laura shouted at them.

The guard ignored her. "If you don't comply, you'll be punished."

"Fuck you!" Laura screamed.

The guard with the baton stepped forward and jabbed Laura in the ribs. She doubled over, clutching her side. He pressed the baton to her back and activated it; Laura jerked violently as a bolt of electricity shot through her body, and her legs gave out. She crashed to her knees, arms splaying forward. The other guard moved behind her and forced her arms behind her back, locking plastic flex cuffs around her wrists.

Evie screamed, scrambling across the mattress to reach her mother. "Don't hurt her! Please, don't hurt my mom!" She was crying, hands held out in supplication, but the third guard seized her by the arm and pulled her off the cot. Evie did not resist; she let herself be dragged to her feet, shivering and sobbing. The guard locked her wrists behind her back with cuffs as well, and pushed her towards the door.

"Alright, move!"

---

Laura and Evie were dragged into the hall, and the guards began marching them down a new corridor. The men ignored the nakedness of the two women and the thin streams of milk that dribbled down their bodies. The group passed other doors, some open, some shut, and from within came the unmistakable sounds of crying, begging, and the occasional, mortifying peal of animal pleasure.

They turned a corner and entered an elevator. The guard with a clipboard swiped a key card and pressed a button, and they began to descend. When the elevator reached the bottom floor, Laura guessed that they were maybe a hundred feet underground. The doors opened with a hiss, and Laura gasped at the sight that greeted them.

It was a vast room, almost like a warehouse, dimly lit by huge LEDs on the high ceiling. A raised metal walkway stretched from the elevator off into the distance, and on either side of the metal bars were rows of women. Hundreds of them. Each one was on all fours, some held in place by metal restraints. All of them were naked, but the detail that shocked Laura most of all was the size of the women's breasts.

They were simply massive. Cup size couldn't describe it; with the women on hands and knees, they touched the floor, the pale skin stretched tight and accented with blue veins. Laura noticed with horror that the women were all kept in place by transparent tubing attached to their thick brown nipples. Each hose was attached to a pump, which pulled milky white streams into larger tubes that collected the individual feeds. The women's udders almost hid their bellies from sight, but at a certain angle, Laura could see that many of the women were in various stages of pregnancy. Their stomachs were swollen and stretched tight, navels protruding and dragging on the ground. The hum of the pumps mixed with moans from the women, filling the room with a cacophony that sounded less than human.

As the guards marched Laura and Evie across the walkway, Laura got a closer look. The faces of the women in the pen were slack, with mouths open and eyes unfocused. Some lay their foreheads against the cold grating, others stared up at the lights. None tried to cover themselves or pull away from the milking tubes. Several were drooling, strands of saliva clinging to their lips and chins. The milk pumps seemed to trigger spasms of pleasure; one woman's hips jerked violently as she was milked, spraying clear fluid from between her legs. The groans they were emitting weren't sounds of pain, but pleasure, almost like happy cows mooing.

"This isn't real," Evie said in a terrified whisper. "This can't be happening."

Laura had no words to comfort her daughter. It was simply horrible. The guards pushed them along the raised platform, and the new women that came into sight seemed to have relatively smaller breasts. These women seemed to be angrier than the others, fighting against their restraints and thrashing so violently that the tubes popped off, spraying bursts of white across their handlers' gloves and faces. Some of the women quietly wept instead of fighting, but still others were moaning just like the previous batch, humping the air, the inside of their thighs gleaming with juices.

They reached the far end of the room, and the guards opened a metal gate. The guards shoved Laura and Evie forward through the doorway. Both women stumbled, unable to break their fall with hands bound behind their backs, and landed hard on the floor. The guards closed the gate and locked it behind them. Without a word, they turned and walked back down the walkway, boots echoing off the steel and concrete.

Laura rolled onto her side, wincing from the pain of her bruises. Something had softened her fall, and she opened her eyes to see straw covering the floor. Figures. She turned to her daughter, worried. "Evie, are you hurt?"

Evie didn't respond. She was already up and staring wide-eyed at their new home. They weren't alone. A few dozen women were standing around, all on two legs, thank god. They were still naked, however, and all had their arms cuffed behind their back, just like Laura and Evie. Some of the women watched the newcomers with open suspicion; others huddled together in pairs or small groups. A few paced restlessly, breasts swaying with every step. Sweat and milk glistened on their grimy bodies, and the tang of sour dairy thickened the air.

A tall, middle-aged woman with severe cheekbones and long black hair approached them. Her breasts, already heavy and leaking, bounced as she walked. She looked Laura up and down, then at Evie, and nodded. "Welcome. I'm Dr. Helen Voss. Are you alright?"

Laura sat up and ignored Voss' question. "What the fuck is this place?" She asked.

"I'm sorry. I know how confusing and horrible this all is, so I'll explain. They call it the Barn; it's part of the ARC, but you'll never get to see the rest of the building. The Barn is just one of the support systems that keeps the other parts of the facility functioning. Milk production. Reproduction. It all happens here. To you. And to me. All for the survival of the ARC."

The blood drained from Laura's face. "Oh my god, this is insane." She thought for a moment. "Wait. They found a way to fix the fertility crisis? Why do these horrible things then? Why not share the treatment with everyone?

Dr. Voss shook her head. "They tried. There were side effects; I'm sure you saw them on your way in. In fact, you're experiencing them now."

As if on cue, Laura gasped as a wave of arousal hit her. Combined with the painful pressure of her full breasts, it took the air out of her. "Fuck… what is it exactly?"

Dr. Voss seemed to be struggling herself, but still managed to continued talking. "You didn't get injected with a vaccine… It's a fast-acting gene therapy called FET, or Fertility Enhancement Therapy. Fertility is genetic, so it seemed like a good route to explore; it improved fertility much more than we anticipated. But it didn't stop there…"

She took a moment to breathe and steady herself. "The test subjects developed increased fat retention around their breasts and hips, as well as hyperlactation and higher libido. Much higher. What was worse, cognitive function also dropped significantly over time. Given all of those effects, no one would willingly choose to be treated. So here we are."

"Gene therapy…" Laura tried to think past the heat between her legs. "Are you saying that this is permanent?"

Voss' expression was grim. "Unfortunately, yes."

Tears filled Laura's eyes, and she looked at Evie. "You're telling me that my daughter is going to end up like…" Laura couldn't finish the sentence. She could only think of that first group of women that they had passed, with their drooling moans, their blank stares, and their bodies warped beyond anything human.

"There's a chance that you both could avoid it, actually. A small chance."

Laura turned back to Voss, her eyes wild with desperate hope. The doctor hesitantly explained further.

"Some of the side effects, especially the cognitive effects, happen very slowly over time, on the scale of years. But the speed is drastically effected by certain triggers. If you avoid the triggers, you can stay sane almost indefinitely. Otherwise, it only takes weeks for the mind to go."

"What? What are the triggers?" Laura asked.

Dr. Voss didn't meet her eyes. "The primary trigger is reaching orgasm."

"Are you serious?" Laura was incredulous. "How does that make sense? How do you even know all of this? Why should I even— ahhh!" Her words were cut off as another wave of arousal hit her.

Voss' expression was sad and sympathetic. "I know all of this because I was there. I was the lead researcher who developed the treatment. I never wanted any of this, though," She quickly added. "They sent me here after I refused to continue working on the fertility project."

Laura nodded, numbly processing all the information. Did any of this really even matter? It didn't change the fact that they were stuck here. Evie bumped shoulders with her, piping up in a breathy tone. "Mom, my boobs really hurt, and I'm all hot again."

"Okay baby, one minute," Laura responded, trying to delay a difficult conversation. She turned back to Dr. Voss. "Sorry for getting upset. Thank you for helping us. Is there any way we could get these cuffs off? My breasts are killing me."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you there. They keep the cuffs on all the new girls until we're more compliant. It reduces hostility, infighting, masturbation, that sort of thing. We find ways of relieving the pressure though."

Voss tilted her head towards a small group of girls in one corner. A group of young women, arms likewise cuffed, knelt in a loose huddle near the straw bales. Two of them pressed their chests together, nipples mashed flat against one another, their mouths locked in a deep kiss. Milk leaked from their breasts, dribbling down their bellies and soaking the straw. A third girl leaned in from the side and latched her mouth onto the left nipple of the taller woman, who arched her back and gasped. Milk ran from the corners of the girl's mouth, soaking her chin and dripping onto the straw. Another girl crouched behind a smaller one, nuzzling at her ass and licking upward until her tongue disappeared between the girl's trembling thighs. Every so often, one of the girls would moan or shudder, the sound barely contained by the wet slap of lips and tongues.

Laura averted her eyes. "No. No, I can't—" She stepped in front of Evie, shielding her view of the debauchery. "There has to be another way. There has to be."

Voss shrugged. "You get used to it. If you don't drain them, the pain just builds and builds." She glanced at Evie, whose eyes were shut tight in pain. "Your daughter isn't going to last long like this. You should help her before it gets worse."

"What?" Laura leaned in and whispered harshly to Voss. "I'm not going to do something like… that! With my own daughter!"

Voss' eyes narrowed. "Listen, your main priority right now is to keep her safe. And if you don't help her, someone else will."

Glancing past Voss, Laura noticed that one of the larger women had pinned the head of a young girl to the straw with both thighs. The girl's nose and mouth were pressed directly into the larger woman's crotch, and each time she tried to move her head for air, the one on top forced her hips down, suffocating and grinding on the girl beneath her. Milk from the larger woman's breasts splattered onto the girl's hair and face, mixing with the juices and lubricating the vicious motion as the girl struggled and kicked. No one stepped in to intervene.

Voss shook her head like she had seen this all before. "Go find a quiet corner and stay there. Feeding tubes are at the other end of the pen. Sleep when you can. I'm so sorry."

---

After eating some sort of protein slop from the feeding tubes, Laura and Evie moved to an area away from the other women, bunching the straw to make it slightly more comfortable. Exhausted, they sat down in their makeshift nest, and Laura positioned her body to guard Evie as best she could. She scanned the room, watching the other women nervously.

Behind Laura, Evie whimpered. She turned and saw that her daughter was crying quietly, unable to wipe her tears. Milk leaked steadily from her swollen nipples, dampening her chest and leaving her skin slick and shiny. Her arms twitched, unable to reach her breasts, and her face contorted with pain from the pressure of the milk. Laura wanted so badly to hug and comfort her, but both of their arms were still trapped behind their backs. Her own chest burned as well; the feeling had become unbearable, and every small movement sent fresh spurts of milk down her stomach. She needed to do something.

Turning to face her daughter, Laura moved closer until their legs touched. Evie looked up, blinking tears from her eyes.

"Evie, I need you to listen to me," Laura said. "In bad situations, sometimes people need to do things they would never normally do."

Evie seemed uncertain. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that my boobs are hurting just like yours, and it's only going to get worse if we don't fix it. We need to get the milk out."

"Okay, but how?" Evie asked, not understanding what her mother was implying.

Instead of answering, Laura inched closer, and slowly bent her head down to Evie's small, swollen breast.

"Mom, what are you— ohhh…" Evie moaned as Laura pressed her lips to Evie's swollen nipple and sucked. The milk came quickly, flooding her mouth with a creamy, sweet taste that dribbled over her chin and down her neck. Evie's body jerked at the first suction, and her back arched against the straw. She made little gasp, and her arms tensed behind her.

Laura drank, swallowing again and again as the milk welled up. Evie's embarrassment at what was happening quickly gave way to relief. Even with her hands bound, Evie tried to get closer, thrusting her chest forward and pressing her mother's face to her breast. Laura held the nipple between her lips, working the flesh gently with her tongue, and each drag made Evie shudder and groan softly.

She stopped only to move to the other breast, and Evie's body followed, twisting to present the next nipple. At each draw, Evie's toes curled, and her hips rolled off the straw. All around, the other women ignored them, but one or two glanced over to watch as the mother drained her daughter's breasts. Evie's moans grew louder, her body bucking each time Laura's mouth latched onto her.

The pressure in Evie's chest lessened with each pull, but her movements became more frantic as Laura's mouth worked. Her daughter's hips spasmed, grinding into the air, and the cries she made were high and urgent. Laura stopped, realizing that Evie was quickly heading towards an orgasm. In a panic, she pulled her face away from the dripping nipple. Evie whimpered and leaned forward, chasing after her mother's mouth with her chest.

"Stop," Laura hissed. "You have to stop."

Evie hunched, panting. She pressed her thighs together and shook her head, protesting wordlessly. Milk dripped down her chest in a steady rhythm.

"Didn't you hear Dr. Voss? If you cum, all of this gets worse," Laura reprimanded, her fear masked by a sharp, parental tone. "We can't let that happen. Do you understand?"

Evie nodded, but she was breathing hard, and her thighs were pressing and sliding together in an attempt to get some sort of stimulation. "It felt so good though… I'm so close…"

"It's alright, baby. I know it's hard." There were tears in Laura's eyes as she tried to talk Evie off the edge. "We'll get through this, okay? You just need a distraction." She pushed her chest out towards her daughter, wincing in pain at the motion. "Here, you can have a turn for a while."

Evie recoiled, shaking her head and pressing her lips shut. "No. That's— I can't," she said, her voice raw and unsteady.

Laura leaned forward and encouraged her daughter. "It's okay. It's just like when you were a baby. I used to nurse you all the time."

Evie pressed her knees together, twisting away from her mother. Laura inched closer, offering her breast again, the nipple swollen and dripping onto the straw. On the other side of the pen, a woman let out a bleating moan as another girl latched onto her, the sound echoing off the walls.

Evie looked away. "Please, Mom, I can't."

"You have to," Laura insisted, the pressure from the milk making her temper short. "Evie. I'm in pain, just like you were. Suck me, now!"

The angry outburst did the trick. Looking like she was about to cry, Evie hesitated, then closed her eyes, leaned forward, and caught her mother's nipple between her lips. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard. Laura exhaled sharply from the sudden sensation, but didn't move away. Milk pooled at the edge of Evie's mouth. She swallowed, each gulp visible in her throat. The straw pressed into their knees as they steadied themselves. Around them, the sounds from the other women in the pen continued in a steady background buzz of moans, cries, and rhythmic pumping from the milking machines in the next chamber over.

Laura's hands strained uselessly behind her, but she kept her body steady, watching Evie. The girl's own chest was still leaking, droplets falling onto her thighs, but her focus did not waver from her mother's breasts. Laura's back arched, and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. She pressed her chest forward, firmly into her daughter's face. Milk streamed from the corners of Evie's mouth, running in pale rivulets over her chin and neck. Laura's thighs shuddered, and her hips rocked back and forth, grinding into the straw.

It felt incredible, as if Evie was sucking the pain out of her breasts, and pleasure was rushing in to fill its absence. Evie's sucking grew more urgent, and Laura's pitched forward, pressing her daughter down into the straw. Milk spattered across Evie's cheeks. Evie choked, then swallowed again and again, streams of white running down her throat and pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. Laura's breathing became audible, ragged, and she braced herself on her knees to keep from smothering her daughter entirely.

Milk streamed in thick ribbons from Laura's breasts, pooling in the hollow above Evie's collarbone before spilling to the straw below. The sound of swallowing was loud and wet, punctuated by the rasp of their breath and the distant, mechanical hum of the milkers in the next pen. Laura's hips jerked forward, driving her cunt against Evie's thigh. The friction left a shimmering trail of juices on the girl's skin, and the movement quickened, shallow and desperate.

Laura froze. The muscles in her back tensed and her jaw set hard. She arched her body away from Evie's mouth, yanking her nipple free. A spatter of milk flicked across Evie's face and hair. Laura pulled herself together, and then shifted her weight, knees scraping backward through the straw until she no longer straddled her daughter's leg. She twisted around, turning her back to Evie, shoulders hunched and breathing hard.

"What's wrong, Mom?" her daughter asked. She almost sounded drunk on a belly full of milk.

Laura's chest heaved. She kept her back turned to Evie, shaking her head. "It's nothing," she said, the words brittle and thin. "I just… have to be careful. That's all."

Evie crawled closer, bumping her forehead into Laura's bare shoulder. Her face and neck were smeared with glistening milk. Evie pressed her cheek to Laura's shoulder, accidentally smearing some of the milk from her face onto her mother's skin.

"Mom, you know the women near the elevator? The ones that looked like cows…" Evie said in a small voice. "Are we going to become like that?"

Laura didn't answer.

When Laura woke, her arousal had returned. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was; she only felt the lull of Evie's breathing and the stickiness of their naked skin pressed together. The cot beneath them was still damp, and stench of sweat and sex clung to the walls of the room. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the memory of the last night from replaying in her head. She failed. The image of Evie writhing and spasming, the taste of her daughter's mouth, and the feeling of the helpless grind of their bodies wouldn't go away.

Evie whimpered softly in her sleep. Laura looked down. Her daughter's face was resting on Laura's upper arm, mouth was slightly open, and hair plastered to her forehead by a sheen of sweat. There were faint bruises on Evie's neck where Laura had gripped her too tightly. A wave of nausea and guilt threatened to make Laura's empty stomach even emptier. How could she have abused her own daughter like that? Even if it was under the influence of whatever she had been injected with, her actions were inexcusable. Before the self-hatred could overwhelm her, however, it was interrupted by a painful soreness in her chest.

She shifted, careful not to wake Evie, and cupped a tentative hand to her left breast. It was shockingly firm and swollen, and the nipple looked darker than usual. Attempting to diagnose the issue, she pressed harder, and a white bead of liquid welled at the tip of her nipple and trickled down her chest. "What the hell…" she whispered, wiping it away with a trembling finger. How was it possible? The last time this had happened was many years ago when Evie was a newborn. Her milk had long since dried up, but here it was.

Telling herself to stay calm, Laura tried to peel herself from Evie with surgical care, but every movement pulled at their joined skin, the dried crust of their mingled arousal tacking them together. She managed to shift her hips, lifting Evie's thigh from between her own, but the girl stirred at the motion, lids fluttering open.

For a second Evie looked up at her mother with the blank trust of a waking child, the way she had years ago when night terrors still haunted her. Then Evie's gaze dropped to their naked bodies and immediately darted away, her cheeks red with shame. She wriggled out of Laura's grip and turned away from her mother, pulling herself into a ball and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Evie…" Laura tried to think of something to say. "I'm so sorry. I never—"

She couldn't finish. There was no possible apology that would be enough; no words to undo the fact that she had violated and raped her daughter.

Evie lay still for a while, facing the wall. Then Laura heard her groan in discomfort.

"Baby, what's wrong?" She cringed at hearing herself ask such a stupid question. Everything was wrong.

"My boobs hurt," Evie answered in a confused voice. She cupped her chest with both hands, massaging her breasts. The flesh beneath her palms was larger than before, nipples jutting and surrounded by puffy, swollen areolae. She poked the skin, then finally met her mother's gaze again, looking for guidance.

Laura didn't answer at first. She pressed her palm to her breast and watched as another thin thread of milk beaded at the tip, running down to her knuckles. She wiped it away, then found her daughter watching her with wide eyes.

"It's milk," Laura said. "I think it's from the shot. The nurse said it was a vaccine, but I think it did something else."

Evie glanced down at her chest, her breath hitching as she tentatively pinched the darkened tip between her thumb and forefinger. She flinched in pain but pressed harder, driven by a mix of curiosity and fear. To her astonishment, droplets began to form at the tip of her nipple. She watched, transfixed, as the first bead rolled slowly down her chest, leaving a shimmering trail across her ribcage. A shiver ran through her, a strange blend of pleasure and revulsion, and she recoiled instinctively, clutching her hands to her breast as more droplets gathered, threatening to spill over.

Her mouth twisted in disbelief, emotions swirling within her. Overcome with conflicting horror and pleasure, Evie squeezed her eyes shut, fists pressing hard against her face as tears broke free. She curled into herself, rocking back and forth while the liquid continued to well and drip from her nipples. Laura reached to comfort her, but Evie jerked away.

Without warning, the door to the cell clanged open, the sharp sound reverberating off the concrete. Three men entered wearing grey uniforms, and two carrying batons at their side. The third one held a clipboard. He stepped forward, gaze flicking from Laura to Evie and back to his papers.

Laura placed herself in front of Evie, covering her own breasts and groin with her hands. Behind her, Evie timidly did the same. The guards ignored the feeble displays of modesty. The one with the clipboard spoke in a bureaucratic monotone. "Laura Miller. Evelyn Miller. You are scheduled for processing; come with us."

"What processing? Why are you doing this? Tell us what's going on!" Laura shouted at them.

The guard ignored her. "If you don't comply, you'll be punished."

"Fuck you!" Laura screamed.

The guard with the baton stepped forward and jabbed Laura in the ribs. She doubled over, clutching her side. He pressed the baton to her back and activated it; Laura jerked violently as a bolt of electricity shot through her body, and her legs gave out. She crashed to her knees, arms splaying forward. The other guard moved behind her and forced her arms behind her back, locking plastic flex cuffs around her wrists.

Evie screamed, scrambling across the mattress to reach her mother. "Don't hurt her! Please, don't hurt my mom!" She was crying, hands held out in supplication, but the third guard seized her by the arm and pulled her off the cot. Evie did not resist; she let herself be dragged to her feet, shivering and sobbing. The guard locked her wrists behind her back with cuffs as well, and pushed her towards the door.

"Alright, move!"

---

Laura and Evie were dragged into the hall, and the guards began marching them down a new corridor. The men ignored the nakedness of the two women and the thin streams of milk that dribbled down their bodies. The group passed other doors, some open, some shut, and from within came the unmistakable sounds of crying, begging, and the occasional, mortifying peal of animal pleasure.

They turned a corner and entered an elevator. The guard with a clipboard swiped a key card and pressed a button, and they began to descend. When the elevator reached the bottom floor, Laura guessed that they were maybe a hundred feet underground. The doors opened with a hiss, and Laura gasped at the sight that greeted them.

It was a vast room, almost like a warehouse, dimly lit by huge LEDs on the high ceiling. A raised metal walkway stretched from the elevator off into the distance, and on either side of the metal bars were rows of women. Hundreds of them. Each one was on all fours, some held in place by metal restraints. All of them were naked, but the detail that shocked Laura most of all was the size of the women's breasts.

They were simply massive. Cup size couldn't describe it; with the women on hands and knees, they touched the floor, the pale skin stretched tight and accented with blue veins. Laura noticed with horror that the women were all kept in place by transparent tubing attached to their thick brown nipples. Each hose was attached to a pump, which pulled milky white streams into larger tubes that collected the individual feeds. The women's udders almost hid their bellies from sight, but at a certain angle, Laura could see that many of the women were in various stages of pregnancy. Their stomachs were swollen and stretched tight, navels protruding and dragging on the ground. The hum of the pumps mixed with moans from the women, filling the room with a cacophony that sounded less than human.

As the guards marched Laura and Evie across the walkway, Laura got a closer look. The faces of the women in the pen were slack, with mouths open and eyes unfocused. Some lay their foreheads against the cold grating, others stared up at the lights. None tried to cover themselves or pull away from the milking tubes. Several were drooling, strands of saliva clinging to their lips and chins. The milk pumps seemed to trigger spasms of pleasure; one woman's hips jerked violently as she was milked, spraying clear fluid from between her legs. The groans they were emitting weren't sounds of pain, but pleasure, almost like happy cows mooing.

"This isn't real," Evie said in a terrified whisper. "This can't be happening."

Laura had no words to comfort her daughter. It was simply horrible. The guards pushed them along the raised platform, and the new women that came into sight seemed to have relatively smaller breasts. These women seemed to be angrier than the others, fighting against their restraints and thrashing so violently that the tubes popped off, spraying bursts of white across their handlers' gloves and faces. Some of the women quietly wept instead of fighting, but still others were moaning just like the previous batch, humping the air, the inside of their thighs gleaming with juices.

They reached the far end of the room, and the guards opened a metal gate. The guards shoved Laura and Evie forward through the doorway. Both women stumbled, unable to break their fall with hands bound behind their backs, and landed hard on the floor. The guards closed the gate and locked it behind them. Without a word, they turned and walked back down the walkway, boots echoing off the steel and concrete.

Laura rolled onto her side, wincing from the pain of her bruises. Something had softened her fall, and she opened her eyes to see straw covering the floor. Figures. She turned to her daughter, worried. "Evie, are you hurt?"

Evie didn't respond. She was already up and staring wide-eyed at their new home. They weren't alone. A few dozen women were standing around, all on two legs, thank god. They were still naked, however, and all had their arms cuffed behind their back, just like Laura and Evie. Some of the women watched the newcomers with open suspicion; others huddled together in pairs or small groups. A few paced restlessly, breasts swaying with every step. Sweat and milk glistened on their grimy bodies, and the tang of sour dairy thickened the air.

A tall, middle-aged woman with severe cheekbones and long black hair approached them. Her breasts, already heavy and leaking, bounced as she walked. She looked Laura up and down, then at Evie, and nodded. "Welcome. I'm Dr. Helen Voss. Are you alright?"

Laura sat up and ignored Voss' question. "What the fuck is this place?" She asked.

"I'm sorry. I know how confusing and horrible this all is, so I'll explain. They call it the Barn; it's part of the ARC, but you'll never get to see the rest of the building. The Barn is just one of the support systems that keeps the other parts of the facility functioning. Milk production. Reproduction. It all happens here. To you. And to me. All for the survival of the ARC."

The blood drained from Laura's face. "Oh my god, this is insane." She thought for a moment. "Wait. They found a way to fix the fertility crisis? Why do these horrible things then? Why not share the treatment with everyone?

Dr. Voss shook her head. "They tried. There were side effects; I'm sure you saw them on your way in. In fact, you're experiencing them now."

As if on cue, Laura gasped as a wave of arousal hit her. Combined with the painful pressure of her full breasts, it took the air out of her. "Fuck… what is it exactly?"

Dr. Voss seemed to be struggling herself, but still managed to continued talking. "You didn't get injected with a vaccine… It's a fast-acting gene therapy called FET, or Fertility Enhancement Therapy. Fertility is genetic, so it seemed like a good route to explore; it improved fertility much more than we anticipated. But it didn't stop there…"

She took a moment to breathe and steady herself. "The test subjects developed increased fat retention around their breasts and hips, as well as hyperlactation and higher libido. Much higher. What was worse, cognitive function also dropped significantly over time. Given all of those effects, no one would willingly choose to be treated. So here we are."

"Gene therapy…" Laura tried to think past the heat between her legs. "Are you saying that this is permanent?"

Voss' expression was grim. "Unfortunately, yes."

Tears filled Laura's eyes, and she looked at Evie. "You're telling me that my daughter is going to end up like…" Laura couldn't finish the sentence. She could only think of that first group of women that they had passed, with their drooling moans, their blank stares, and their bodies warped beyond anything human.

"There's a chance that you both could avoid it, actually. A small chance."

Laura turned back to Voss, her eyes wild with desperate hope. The doctor hesitantly explained further.

"Some of the side effects, especially the cognitive effects, happen very slowly over time, on the scale of years. But the speed is drastically effected by certain triggers. If you avoid the triggers, you can stay sane almost indefinitely. Otherwise, it only takes weeks for the mind to go."

"What? What are the triggers?" Laura asked.

Dr. Voss didn't meet her eyes. "The primary trigger is reaching orgasm."

"Are you serious?" Laura was incredulous. "How does that make sense? How do you even know all of this? Why should I even— ahhh!" Her words were cut off as another wave of arousal hit her.

Voss' expression was sad and sympathetic. "I know all of this because I was there. I was the lead researcher who developed the treatment. I never wanted any of this, though," She quickly added. "They sent me here after I refused to continue working on the fertility project."

Laura nodded, numbly processing all the information. Did any of this really even matter? It didn't change the fact that they were stuck here. Evie bumped shoulders with her, piping up in a breathy tone. "Mom, my boobs really hurt, and I'm all hot again."

"Okay baby, one minute," Laura responded, trying to delay a difficult conversation. She turned back to Dr. Voss. "Sorry for getting upset. Thank you for helping us. Is there any way we could get these cuffs off? My breasts are killing me."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you there. They keep the cuffs on all the new girls until we're more compliant. It reduces hostility, infighting, masturbation, that sort of thing. We find ways of relieving the pressure though."

Voss tilted her head towards a small group of girls in one corner. A group of young women, arms likewise cuffed, knelt in a loose huddle near the straw bales. Two of them pressed their chests together, nipples mashed flat against one another, their mouths locked in a deep kiss. Milk leaked from their breasts, dribbling down their bellies and soaking the straw. A third girl leaned in from the side and latched her mouth onto the left nipple of the taller woman, who arched her back and gasped. Milk ran from the corners of the girl's mouth, soaking her chin and dripping onto the straw. Another girl crouched behind a smaller one, nuzzling at her ass and licking upward until her tongue disappeared between the girl's trembling thighs. Every so often, one of the girls would moan or shudder, the sound barely contained by the wet slap of lips and tongues.

Laura averted her eyes. "No. No, I can't—" She stepped in front of Evie, shielding her view of the debauchery. "There has to be another way. There has to be."

Voss shrugged. "You get used to it. If you don't drain them, the pain just builds and builds." She glanced at Evie, whose eyes were shut tight in pain. "Your daughter isn't going to last long like this. You should help her before it gets worse."

"What?" Laura leaned in and whispered harshly to Voss. "I'm not going to do something like… that! With my own daughter!"

Voss' eyes narrowed. "Listen, your main priority right now is to keep her safe. And if you don't help her, someone else will."

Glancing past Voss, Laura noticed that one of the larger women had pinned the head of a young girl to the straw with both thighs. The girl's nose and mouth were pressed directly into the larger woman's crotch, and each time she tried to move her head for air, the one on top forced her hips down, suffocating and grinding on the girl beneath her. Milk from the larger woman's breasts splattered onto the girl's hair and face, mixing with the juices and lubricating the vicious motion as the girl struggled and kicked. No one stepped in to intervene.

Voss shook her head like she had seen this all before. "Go find a quiet corner and stay there. Feeding tubes are at the other end of the pen. Sleep when you can. I'm so sorry."

---

After eating some sort of protein slop from the feeding tubes, Laura and Evie moved to an area away from the other women, bunching the straw to make it slightly more comfortable. Exhausted, they sat down in their makeshift nest, and Laura positioned her body to guard Evie as best she could. She scanned the room, watching the other women nervously.

Behind Laura, Evie whimpered. She turned and saw that her daughter was crying quietly, unable to wipe her tears. Milk leaked steadily from her swollen nipples, dampening her chest and leaving her skin slick and shiny. Her arms twitched, unable to reach her breasts, and her face contorted with pain from the pressure of the milk. Laura wanted so badly to hug and comfort her, but both of their arms were still trapped behind their backs. Her own chest burned as well; the feeling had become unbearable, and every small movement sent fresh spurts of milk down her stomach. She needed to do something.

Turning to face her daughter, Laura moved closer until their legs touched. Evie looked up, blinking tears from her eyes.

"Evie, I need you to listen to me," Laura said. "In bad situations, sometimes people need to do things they would never normally do."

Evie seemed uncertain. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that my boobs are hurting just like yours, and it's only going to get worse if we don't fix it. We need to get the milk out."

"Okay, but how?" Evie asked, not understanding what her mother was implying.

Instead of answering, Laura inched closer, and slowly bent her head down to Evie's small, swollen breast.

"Mom, what are you— ohhh…" Evie moaned as Laura pressed her lips to Evie's swollen nipple and sucked. The milk came quickly, flooding her mouth with a creamy, sweet taste that dribbled over her chin and down her neck. Evie's body jerked at the first suction, and her back arched against the straw. She made little gasp, and her arms tensed behind her.

Laura drank, swallowing again and again as the milk welled up. Evie's embarrassment at what was happening quickly gave way to relief. Even with her hands bound, Evie tried to get closer, thrusting her chest forward and pressing her mother's face to her breast. Laura held the nipple between her lips, working the flesh gently with her tongue, and each drag made Evie shudder and groan softly.

She stopped only to move to the other breast, and Evie's body followed, twisting to present the next nipple. At each draw, Evie's toes curled, and her hips rolled off the straw. All around, the other women ignored them, but one or two glanced over to watch as the mother drained her daughter's breasts. Evie's moans grew louder, her body bucking each time Laura's mouth latched onto her.

The pressure in Evie's chest lessened with each pull, but her movements became more frantic as Laura's mouth worked. Her daughter's hips spasmed, grinding into the air, and the cries she made were high and urgent. Laura stopped, realizing that Evie was quickly heading towards an orgasm. In a panic, she pulled her face away from the dripping nipple. Evie whimpered and leaned forward, chasing after her mother's mouth with her chest.

"Stop," Laura hissed. "You have to stop."

Evie hunched, panting. She pressed her thighs together and shook her head, protesting wordlessly. Milk dripped down her chest in a steady rhythm.

"Didn't you hear Dr. Voss? If you cum, all of this gets worse," Laura reprimanded, her fear masked by a sharp, parental tone. "We can't let that happen. Do you understand?"

Evie nodded, but she was breathing hard, and her thighs were pressing and sliding together in an attempt to get some sort of stimulation. "It felt so good though… I'm so close…"

"It's alright, baby. I know it's hard." There were tears in Laura's eyes as she tried to talk Evie off the edge. "We'll get through this, okay? You just need a distraction." She pushed her chest out towards her daughter, wincing in pain at the motion. "Here, you can have a turn for a while."

Evie recoiled, shaking her head and pressing her lips shut. "No. That's— I can't," she said, her voice raw and unsteady.

Laura leaned forward and encouraged her daughter. "It's okay. It's just like when you were a baby. I used to nurse you all the time."

Evie pressed her knees together, twisting away from her mother. Laura inched closer, offering her breast again, the nipple swollen and dripping onto the straw. On the other side of the pen, a woman let out a bleating moan as another girl latched onto her, the sound echoing off the walls.

Evie looked away. "Please, Mom, I can't."

"You have to," Laura insisted, the pressure from the milk making her temper short. "Evie. I'm in pain, just like you were. Suck me, now!"

The angry outburst did the trick. Looking like she was about to cry, Evie hesitated, then closed her eyes, leaned forward, and caught her mother's nipple between her lips. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard. Laura exhaled sharply from the sudden sensation, but didn't move away. Milk pooled at the edge of Evie's mouth. She swallowed, each gulp visible in her throat. The straw pressed into their knees as they steadied themselves. Around them, the sounds from the other women in the pen continued in a steady background buzz of moans, cries, and rhythmic pumping from the milking machines in the next chamber over.

Laura's hands strained uselessly behind her, but she kept her body steady, watching Evie. The girl's own chest was still leaking, droplets falling onto her thighs, but her focus did not waver from her mother's breasts. Laura's back arched, and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. She pressed her chest forward, firmly into her daughter's face. Milk streamed from the corners of Evie's mouth, running in pale rivulets over her chin and neck. Laura's thighs shuddered, and her hips rocked back and forth, grinding into the straw.

It felt incredible, as if Evie was sucking the pain out of her breasts, and pleasure was rushing in to fill its absence. Evie's sucking grew more urgent, and Laura's pitched forward, pressing her daughter down into the straw. Milk spattered across Evie's cheeks. Evie choked, then swallowed again and again, streams of white running down her throat and pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. Laura's breathing became audible, ragged, and she braced herself on her knees to keep from smothering her daughter entirely.

Milk streamed in thick ribbons from Laura's breasts, pooling in the hollow above Evie's collarbone before spilling to the straw below. The sound of swallowing was loud and wet, punctuated by the rasp of their breath and the distant, mechanical hum of the milkers in the next pen. Laura's hips jerked forward, driving her cunt against Evie's thigh. The friction left a shimmering trail of juices on the girl's skin, and the movement quickened, shallow and desperate.

Laura froze. The muscles in her back tensed and her jaw set hard. She arched her body away from Evie's mouth, yanking her nipple free. A spatter of milk flicked across Evie's face and hair. Laura pulled herself together, and then shifted her weight, knees scraping backward through the straw until she no longer straddled her daughter's leg. She twisted around, turning her back to Evie, shoulders hunched and breathing hard.

"What's wrong, Mom?" her daughter asked. She almost sounded drunk on a belly full of milk.

Laura's chest heaved. She kept her back turned to Evie, shaking her head. "It's nothing," she said, the words brittle and thin. "I just… have to be careful. That's all."

Evie crawled closer, bumping her forehead into Laura's bare shoulder. Her face and neck were smeared with glistening milk. Evie pressed her cheek to Laura's shoulder, accidentally smearing some of the milk from her face onto her mother's skin.

"Mom, you know the women near the elevator? The ones that looked like cows…" Evie said in a small voice. "Are we going to become like that?"

Laura didn't answer.

All characters are 18+

The world had grown thin.

The dark thought echoed in Laura's mind as she trudged through the husks of burned-out cars, past shards of glass ground into the asphalt by thousands of footsteps and seasons of slow decay. The highway stretched to the horizon like a scar on the landscape, encroached by wild grasses and patches of weeds with no one to trim them back. With every step, sunken eyes watched from behind windows or tents along the side of the road, but few dared give more than a glance. These days, the idea of safety belonged to a bygone era of fresh produce and cheap electricity.

Her daughter Evie walked a half-pace behind with chapped lips and labored breath. She clung to her mother's shadow and moved with the cautiousness of someone who had never known abundance, shaped instead by dust and tight rations. Laura paused every so often to adjust the frayed strap on her backpack, or to glance back and watch Evie's steps, though the girl rarely lagged. They didn't speak; there was nothing to say.

In the distance, a massive building stood out against the sallow skyline. In the wake of the fertility crisis that had destroyed the economy, the federal government had set up a number of facilities they called ARCs, or Assisted Recovery Centers, publicly touted as the last hope of humanity. Although the delusional acronym had been mocked by many when the program was first announced, the crowd of refugees now waiting for a chance to enter the ARC showed how rapidly the cynicism had turned into desperation.

After another hour of walking, the ARC now loomed before them, rising high above the societal decay that surrounded it. Evie's hand found her mother's as they approached a chain link fence and joined the long line that slowly trudged towards the entrance. On either side of main gate, armed guards stared expressionless at the rabble. The mood in the queue was a glacial hush, punctuated only by the scrape of boots and low whispers. The citizens all wore similar patchworks of worn-out coats, pants with the knees patched, and shoes with the soles taped together. Laura could not find a single baby among the crowd.

Above them, flickering screens ran an endless loop, showing footage of starving people and violence in the streets. A woman's voice narrated the displayed devastation. "Global fertility rates have dropped by 82 percent in just five years. Supply chains have fallen apart, the population is dwindling, and it feels like the end of the world. But there is still hope! Together, we can restore our country to its former glory. Each day, thousands of people choose to make a difference." The screen changed to show smiling families in pale blue uniforms working in hydroponic gardens, laughing together over bowls of simple grain. "By enrolling in the ARC, you become part of the solution." The footage switched to a young pregnant mother beaming as a technician drew her blood. "All it takes is a moment. A simple test. Join us, and help revive the world."

The video ended, then restarted in a different language. Evie tugged on Laura's sleeve. "Are we going to work in those gardens, Mom?"

Laura blinked. What could she say? "I don't know, Evie." She didn't want to give her daughter false hope. "They might not even let us in."

Evie's gaze fell to the ground, and she squeezed her mother's hand more tightly.

---

The line advanced slowly over the next few hours. By the time they reached the entrance, the sun had dipped behind the smog, and the temperature dropped to a dull chill.

A commotion broke up the monotony of the wait; the main doors had opened, and two guards were dragging an older man back out of the building. With wild eyes and bedraggled hair, he pleaded with the soldiers.

"Please, you have to let me stay, I'll do anything! Where is my wife? Is she still in there?"

The guards tossed him on the ground. One answered in a firm voice. "Your wife passed her tests and chose to join the ARC. Now get lost."

The poor man lunged at the guard in panic and anger, only to be struck with the butt of a rifle. He crumpled to the ground unconscious, blood streaming from his head.

Everyone stared. No one said a word.

Laura squeezed Evie's hand, trying to reassure them both. When they finally reached the end of the line, a man in a navy jumpsuit and clipboard gestured for Evie to step forward. Laura tried to follow close behind her daughter, but was stopped by the gloved hand of a guard. "One at a time. It's protocol."

Laura's chest tightened. She tried to keep her voice steady. "I'm her mother. She's only—"

The guard cut her off. "Everyone goes through testing and intake alone. You'll go next."

Evie looked up at Laura for reassurance, still holding her hand. "Mom?"

Laura leaned down until their foreheads touched. "It'll be just like the doctor's," she whispered. "They'll check your temperature and your blood. Answer their questions, and be brave, alright Evie?"

Evie nodded, blinking back tears from her eyes. "Okay, I will."

As the guards guided Evie through the main entrance, Laura clenched her jaw. She tried not to let panic overwhelm her. She watched Evie disappear down a corridor, and hoped to god that it wouldn't be the last time she saw her.

Then the clipboard man waved her forward, and it was Laura's turn. She was ushered down another hallway and into a white room. It appeared to be a generic medical clinic, and a woman in scrubs greeted her with a tired look. "Name?"

"Laura Miller."

The woman tapped the tablet, nodded. "Any allergies? Illnesses? Medications?"

"No, nothing. When can I see my daughter?" Laura asked.

The woman shrugged, didn't look up from the screen. "If you pass the medical screening and intake process, you'll be taken to your quarters. Your daughter will be there." She reached for a plastic tray. "Roll up your sleeve."

Laura did as she was told. The woman dabbed her arm with something cold and clear, tied a band tight around her bicep, and slid home the needle. Red blood immediately filled the tube.

"This will only take a minute." The nurse said without looking up. She placed the blood sample into a machine on the wall. It started humming, and after a minute of impatient waiting, a green light appeared along with some numbers on the screen. The nurse looked them over with mild surprise.

"Looks like you're a genetic fit for the ARC! Which means your daughter will be as well, assuming she's not adopted."

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. They were finally safe.

The nurse continued with the process. "Next step is a brief physical exam. Please disrobe and lie down on the table."

Laura hesitated. There was nowhere to hide the hunger and exhaustion beneath her layers, but there was nothing to do but comply. She peeled off her coat, then her patched shirt, feeling the chill of the room gnaw at her skin. The nurse's eyes did not linger or judge her underweight and bruised body.

"Please lie back," the woman said, already rolling on a fresh pair of gloves.

The table was cold and hard. Laura's skin prickled as she stretched out, as exposed as she'd ever been. The nurse's hands were methodical and clinical, probing beneath her ribs for the telltale signs of organ failure or disease.

"You're in relatively good shape! Rare to see these days."

Laura tried to smile, but only managed a grimace. "Just lucky I guess."

"Aright, last step is a vaccination to prevent disease from spreading in the ARC. Just a small poke, and then we'll get you to your daughter."

Unease started to rise in Laura's subconscious. She tried to object, "Is that really necessary?"

"Oh, it's very quick, and then you'll have nothing to worry about!" The nurse seemed almost too excited now, but Laura couldn't turn back, not without Evie.

The nurse swabbed her shoulder, then produced a preloaded syringe. The injection was quick and painless, but Laura flinched at the burn of the liquid as it moved through her bloodstream. "You might feel a little lightheaded," the nurse warned.

Laura sat up too quickly. Darkness started to creep around the edge of her vision. "I don't…" She tried to stand up. "…feel so…"

The nurse opened the door and poked her head out of the room. To Laura, her voice sounded far away.

"Hey, we have another one for the Barn in here!"

That didn't sound right.

"Wha… barn…?" Laura's voice was slurred and slow.

The world went sideways. Laura's body slumped back, knees buckling, but a pair of arms caught her under the armpits and lifted her onto a gurney. The ceiling tiles slid past overhead, each one a white rectangle in a grid that seemed to go on forever. She was fully unconscious before they had finished moving her.

---

"Mom! Mom! Are you alright?"

Evie's voice was the first thing that Laura's brain registered as consciousness began to return. The sound echoed, compounding with a throbbing headache. Laura opened her eyes, and her vision was immediately filled by Evie's face looking down at her with a scared expression.

She tried to sit, but her limbs felt dead. Evie held Laura's hand tightly, as if she was afraid her mother would disappear again. Laura tried to squeeze back, but her muscles refused to obey. The cot beneath her smelled like old sweat, and as she rolled her head to the side she saw that they were in a small room with a heavy door that was bolted shut. No windows, and no other way to tell what time it was, or how long she'd been out.

She tried to ask, "Where are we?" but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry and swollen, and the words came out as a croak.

Evie hovered over her, eyes red from crying. It took Laura a moment to realize that they were both completely naked; no one had given them their clothes after the exam room. She forced herself upright, arms shaking, and pulled Evie close, both for comfort and to shield her daughter's nakedness from whoever might walk through the door.

Evie pressed against her, skin bare and vulnerable. She'd always been small for her age, but now Laura could count each rib beneath that taut skin, and could see how the malnutrition had kept her chest almost flat. Laura's mouth opened, but comfort died on her tongue. All she could do was wrap trembling arms around her daughter and hold on, the gesture more desperate peer than protective parent. The only warmth in the room came from each other.

"They left us here after the shot," Evie said, tearing up. "You wouldn't wake up for hours. I thought— I thought you were…" She couldn't finish the thought.

Laura hugged her daughter tightly, simply relieved that they were both still alive. "I'm not. I'm okay, Evie. We're okay."

Evie hugged her back. "Mom, I'm scared. Why did they put us here? Where are the gardens?"

Laura hesitated, holding her daughter close, as if the force of her embrace could stave off the bewilderment and dread churning in her chest. "They must be doing more tests," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe this is just… some kind of quarantine." The idea barely seemed plausible, but she didn't want to think about the alternative.

With her daughter pressed against her body, it suddenly hit Laura that Evie's skin felt very warm; almost feverish despite the cold cell. She pulled away, and studied her daughter's face closely. "Are you alright, baby?"

Evie squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. "I'm not sure… I feel hot. And… weird."

Laura's headache had finally lessened, and in the clarity of its absence, she realized that she felt unnaturally warm as well. Her skin seemed extra sensitive, like the precursor of the flu. Were these side effects of the vaccine? Or was it something else?

She looked at Evie again with the calculating assessment of a mother. She noticed a flush on Evie's cheeks and her breathing was becoming ragged. She looked down, and realized that Evie was squeezing her thighs together, almost unconsciously, her hips giving the barest grind into the cot.

She didn't want to acknowledge what she was seeing. Didn't want to see Evie's nipples, crinkled and hard, or the tiny tremor in the girl's legs as she tried to hide whatever was happening to her. Laura wondered if this was some sick perversion by whoever ran this place, but she couldn't dwell on it; Evie was looking at her for guidance.

"It must be the shot they gave us," Laura told her. "You're just reacting to it." She tried to slow her breathing and stay calm, but the warmth under her skin was spreading.

"But I don't feel sick…" Evie whimpered. "It's like there's a fire in my body, and it's coming from…"

Then she opened her legs and looked down.

"Oh." She said in a small voice.

Laura's breath caught in her throat as she followed Evie's gaze. It was obscene; her vulva was red and swollen, glistening with thick, viscous fluid that clung in ropes to the insides of her trembling thighs. The sight horrified Laura, yet she found herself mesmerized, struggling to reconcile the pale skin of her daughter's small body with the raw, engorged mess between her legs. The lips had parted, exposing the glistening, twitching folds within. A pink stripe of inner flesh peeked between them, pulsing in time with Evie's heartbeat, while her tiny, swollen clit protruded above it, hard and throbbing.

Laura forced herself to breathe, shallow and fast, each inhale laced with the bite of fear. She wanted to cover Evie, to shield that raw, exposed place from air and sight, but her hands hovered, awkward and useless, inches from her daughter's knees. "Don't panic," she whispered, not sure if she was speaking to Evie or herself.

Evie's face twisted with a shame Laura had never seen in her before. The girl's legs pressed together, trying to hide the mess but only mashing the puffy folds more, forcing a fresh ooze of clear slickness to squelch down the inside of her thighs. Her fingers fluttered at her sides, then gripped the cot's edge with white-knuckled intensity. "Mom, make it stop," Evie moaned, voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears.

As Laura's mind raced for a way to help her daughter. "Hold on, baby. I'll… I'll find a—"

A wave of heat and need took her breath away, and she groaned from the intensity. Laura clenched her jaw, trying to suppress the unnatural hunger gnawing at her gut and rooting deeper with every heartbeat. She could feel wetness gathering between her own legs, and the urge to gasp, to arch her body, to grind herself against something, anything, nearly overpowered her.

She pressed her palm to the inside of her thigh, willing the tremor away. The skin was feverish to the touch. She tried to focus on her daughter's face and remember the girl who she needed to be strong for, but Evie's eyes were glassy with panic, her breath coming in helpless little sobs that edged into moans.

Laura looked around frantically, and spied a camera in the corner of the ceiling. In anger, she yelled at the inanimate object, "Hey! Hey, I know you're watching! My daughter needs help!" There was no response.

"Look at me. Evie, baby, I'm here." She pulled her closer, so they were forehead to forehead, just like how she had before they had entered the ARC. "I need you to breathe. Just breathe, okay?" Laura exaggerated her own breath, long and slow, though it shook at the end. Evie tried to mimic her. It didn't help; her hips kept rocking involuntary, as if something inside her was winding up tighter with every passing second.

Evie's hand darted down, burrowing between her thighs before Laura could stop her. The girl's knuckles whitened, arm trembling with a frantic energy. Lips pressed tight, she rocked herself on the cot, breaths coming in choppy gasps. Laura's gut clenched with a blend of horror and empathy; it took everything in her not to do the same.

Laura clamped a hand over Evie's wrist and dragged it from between her thighs. The girl bucked and twisted, but her mother's grip was firm. "No," Laura said, voice strangled. She held Evie's trembling hands between her own, squeezing harder than she meant, desperate to stop the frantic rubbing. "You have to fight it. You have to be strong, Evie. Listen to me."

Evie jerked, eyes streaming, her mouth wrenched open in a silent sob. Her knees snapped together, but her hips wouldn't stay still, humping helplessly at the empty air. The slickness between her legs had already coated the cot, and Laura's nostrils filled with the ripe scent of her daughter's arousal.

Evie's apology came out in bursts between breaths: "I'm so sorry, Mom. I can't stop. I can't." Tears began to fill her eyes.

Laura pulled her in, crushing Evie against her chest. "I know, I know it's hard, I feel it too," she murmured into the tangled hair. She pressed a trembling kiss to Evie's forehead, her own tears dampening the girl's burning skin. Evie's arms wrapped tight around her neck, and Laura's lips grazed her temple, then her hairline, desperate to soothe, desperate for any gesture of comfort. Evie's hips kept shuddering frantically, and Laura shushed her, murmuring, "You're safe, you're safe, there's nothing wrong with you—"

But Evie was shaking, moaning, her face brushing Laura's collarbone, her breath hot and damp. Laura's kisses trailed down, searching for words and finding none; she pressed her lips into her daughter's cheek, then her jaw. She was crying now, hopelessly, and the salt of her tears mixed with the sweat pouring from Evie's skin. She kissed her daughter's mouth to hush the whimpering, just a mother's kiss, but Evie pressed back, desperate, and Laura suddenly found herself tongue-deep in her daughter's mouth, overcome by a primal, animal hunger that left her reeling. She jerked away, swallowing hard, and Evie mewled in protest, hands scrabbling for her face, her hair, her neck. The girl was burning up, delirious, writhing in Laura's lap.

Laura tried to think. She had to think. Had to stay lucid. She fumbled for the edges of the cot, dragging Evie upright with her, but the girl clung tight, arms and legs lashing around Laura's body. "Please, Mommy, please—" She begged. Evie clawed at Laura, clutching at her back, legs wrapping around her mother's thigh and grinding up against muscle with desperate, humping jerks. Laura tried to pry her loose, but Evie clung, feral, her groin slick and burning against her mother's skin.

"Stop, baby, we need to stop!" Laura pleaded, but she couldn't stop her own hands from moving down Evie's back and finding her daughter's ass. Kneading and squeezing her soft flesh, she pulled Evie toward her hips until their bellies touched, her own cunt slick and throbbing against the frantic heat between her daughter's legs. The velvet friction of their joined juices was a living, writhing thing, so intense it blurred the boundaries of where one body ended and the other began.

"Oh Mommy, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Evie's hips bucked, needful and raw, grinding her raw, open slit against Laura's mound in a sticky smear. The sensation nearly made Laura black out. She had never been so helpless before her own body, never felt her clit this swollen, or her own folds this drenched. Her knees squeezed shut, trapping Evie's thigh, and she humped forward, mashing Evie's pussy into hers again and again. Both of them cried out at once; Laura in horror at what she was doing, Evie in pure pleasure.

Laura tried to force her mind anywhere but her daughter's little pussy, so engorged and wet and grinding against her own. She couldn't. She couldn't. Every time their hips pressed together, Laura's core twitched, the pressure building, and every atom in her body shrieked for release. Evie sobbed and whimpered and begged in a voice that Laura had never heard from her before. She pulled away, but Evie clung tighter, her arms a vice around Laura's neck, her pelvis locked to her mother's, and the world narrowed to just the two of them, locked together, their bodies slick with sticky, feverish need. Laura gritted her teeth hard, but her resolve failed under the squeeze of Evie's arms and the obscene friction of their joined flesh.

Then her daughter let out a keening, helpless wail, and her body convulsed with a violence that knocked Laura off-balance. The girl came, clamping her legs so tightly around Laura's waist that it hurt, and her little pussy pulsed, spasmed, and spat a syrupy gush that coated Laura's pubic bone and pooled beneath them on the cot.

The sight of her daughter's sticky, convulsing climax was all it took. Something monstrous let go inside Laura; some hard, maternal block in her brain shattered and the animal screamed free. Her hands shot up and gripped Evie's neck, and she pushed her daughter flat to the cot, straddling her small body, pinning her in the mess of their mingled juices. Evie's eyes went wide and blank with the end of her orgasm, her mouth slack and wet.

Laura ground her own cunt down onto the soft, trembling belly, desperate to rub the inferno out of herself. The friction was so raw, so slick, so good, and even as her mind screamed no with each thrust, her hips squirmed against her daughter's body, mashing herself into the sticky flesh, using her daughter's flesh as a toy, needing to cum, needing, needing—

She came with a strangled, silent cry, biting down on her lip until she tasted blood. The orgasm felt almost like a seizure. Her body locked, her cunt clamped down painfully, and every muscle in her abdomen tensed violently. Her vision went white at the edges. She felt, distantly, her own juices splattering across Evie's bare skin, mixing with her daughter's sticky mess, fusing their bodies together.

She collapsed, half on top of Evie, her breath stuttering between sobs and gasps. Evie whimpered and curled into herself, trembling, as if the last shreds of her will had been wrung out and left her hollow. Laura gathered her, pulling the girl into her arms, ignoring the sticky wetness between their bodies, the shame and the sickness. She cradled Evie, rocking their naked forms together on the cot, heaving ragged breaths until they began to slow down and even out. Laura stroked her daughter's hair, her hands sticky with their mingled fluids, trembling with exhaustion and horror.

Evie burrowed into her, shivering. Laura stroked the girl's temple, the soft fine hair already stuck with sweat. "I'm so sorry, baby. You're okay," she whispered. "It's not your fault. Do you hear me? Not your fault." The girl whimpered, nodded, pulled herself tighter into her mother's curves.

They lay there, mother curled protectively around her daughter, until they both fell into a deep sleep.

The world had grown thin.

The dark thought echoed in Laura's mind as she trudged through the husks of burned-out cars, past shards of glass ground into the asphalt by thousands of footsteps and seasons of slow decay. The highway stretched to the horizon like a scar on the landscape, encroached by wild grasses and patches of weeds with no one to trim them back. With every step, sunken eyes watched from behind windows or tents along the side of the road, but few dared give more than a glance. These days, the idea of safety belonged to a bygone era of fresh produce and cheap electricity.

Her daughter Evie walked a half-pace behind with chapped lips and labored breath. She clung to her mother's shadow and moved with the cautiousness of someone who had never known abundance, shaped instead by dust and tight rations. Laura paused every so often to adjust the frayed strap on her backpack, or to glance back and watch Evie's steps, though the girl rarely lagged. They didn't speak; there was nothing to say.

In the distance, a massive building stood out against the sallow skyline. In the wake of the fertility crisis that had destroyed the economy, the federal government had set up a number of facilities they called ARCs, or Assisted Recovery Centers, publicly touted as the last hope of humanity. Although the delusional acronym had been mocked by many when the program was first announced, the crowd of refugees now waiting for a chance to enter the ARC showed how rapidly the cynicism had turned into desperation.

After another hour of walking, the ARC now loomed before them, rising high above the societal decay that surrounded it. Evie's hand found her mother's as they approached a chain link fence and joined the long line that slowly trudged towards the entrance. On either side of main gate, armed guards stared expressionless at the rabble. The mood in the queue was a glacial hush, punctuated only by the scrape of boots and low whispers. The citizens all wore similar patchworks of worn-out coats, pants with the knees patched, and shoes with the soles taped together. Laura could not find a single baby among the crowd.

Above them, flickering screens ran an endless loop, showing footage of starving people and violence in the streets. A woman's voice narrated the displayed devastation. "Global fertility rates have dropped by 82 percent in just five years. Supply chains have fallen apart, the population is dwindling, and it feels like the end of the world. But there is still hope! Together, we can restore our country to its former glory. Each day, thousands of people choose to make a difference." The screen changed to show smiling families in pale blue uniforms working in hydroponic gardens, laughing together over bowls of simple grain. "By enrolling in the ARC, you become part of the solution." The footage switched to a young pregnant mother beaming as a technician drew her blood. "All it takes is a moment. A simple test. Join us, and help revive the world."

The video ended, then restarted in a different language. Evie tugged on Laura's sleeve. "Are we going to work in those gardens, Mom?"

Laura blinked. What could she say? "I don't know, Evie." She didn't want to give her daughter false hope. "They might not even let us in."

Evie's gaze fell to the ground, and she squeezed her mother's hand more tightly.

---

The line advanced slowly over the next few hours. By the time they reached the entrance, the sun had dipped behind the smog, and the temperature dropped to a dull chill.

A commotion broke up the monotony of the wait; the main doors had opened, and two guards were dragging an older man back out of the building. With wild eyes and bedraggled hair, he pleaded with the soldiers.

"Please, you have to let me stay, I'll do anything! Where is my wife? Is she still in there?"

The guards tossed him on the ground. One answered in a firm voice. "Your wife passed her tests and chose to join the ARC. Now get lost."

The poor man lunged at the guard in panic and anger, only to be struck with the butt of a rifle. He crumpled to the ground unconscious, blood streaming from his head.

Everyone stared. No one said a word.

Laura squeezed Evie's hand, trying to reassure them both. When they finally reached the end of the line, a man in a navy jumpsuit and clipboard gestured for Evie to step forward. Laura tried to follow close behind her daughter, but was stopped by the gloved hand of a guard. "One at a time. It's protocol."

Laura's chest tightened. She tried to keep her voice steady. "I'm her mother. She's only—"

The guard cut her off. "Everyone goes through testing and intake alone. You'll go next."

Evie looked up at Laura for reassurance, still holding her hand. "Mom?"

Laura leaned down until their foreheads touched. "It'll be just like the doctor's," she whispered. "They'll check your temperature and your blood. Answer their questions, and be brave, alright Evie?"

Evie nodded, blinking back tears from her eyes. "Okay, I will."

As the guards guided Evie through the main entrance, Laura clenched her jaw. She tried not to let panic overwhelm her. She watched Evie disappear down a corridor, and hoped to god that it wouldn't be the last time she saw her.

Then the clipboard man waved her forward, and it was Laura's turn. She was ushered down another hallway and into a white room. It appeared to be a generic medical clinic, and a woman in scrubs greeted her with a tired look. "Name?"

"Laura Miller."

The woman tapped the tablet, nodded. "Any allergies? Illnesses? Medications?"

"No, nothing. When can I see my daughter?" Laura asked.

The woman shrugged, didn't look up from the screen. "If you pass the medical screening and intake process, you'll be taken to your quarters. Your daughter will be there." She reached for a plastic tray. "Roll up your sleeve."

Laura did as she was told. The woman dabbed her arm with something cold and clear, tied a band tight around her bicep, and slid home the needle. Red blood immediately filled the tube.

"This will only take a minute." The nurse said without looking up. She placed the blood sample into a machine on the wall. It started humming, and after a minute of impatient waiting, a green light appeared along with some numbers on the screen. The nurse looked them over with mild surprise.

"Looks like you're a genetic fit for the ARC! Which means your daughter will be as well, assuming she's not adopted."

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. They were finally safe.

The nurse continued with the process. "Next step is a brief physical exam. Please disrobe and lie down on the table."

Laura hesitated. There was nowhere to hide the hunger and exhaustion beneath her layers, but there was nothing to do but comply. She peeled off her coat, then her patched shirt, feeling the chill of the room gnaw at her skin. The nurse's eyes did not linger or judge her underweight and bruised body.

"Please lie back," the woman said, already rolling on a fresh pair of gloves.

The table was cold and hard. Laura's skin prickled as she stretched out, as exposed as she'd ever been. The nurse's hands were methodical and clinical, probing beneath her ribs for the telltale signs of organ failure or disease.

"You're in relatively good shape! Rare to see these days."

Laura tried to smile, but only managed a grimace. "Just lucky I guess."

"Aright, last step is a vaccination to prevent disease from spreading in the ARC. Just a small poke, and then we'll get you to your daughter."

Unease started to rise in Laura's subconscious. She tried to object, "Is that really necessary?"

"Oh, it's very quick, and then you'll have nothing to worry about!" The nurse seemed almost too excited now, but Laura couldn't turn back, not without Evie.

The nurse swabbed her shoulder, then produced a preloaded syringe. The injection was quick and painless, but Laura flinched at the burn of the liquid as it moved through her bloodstream. "You might feel a little lightheaded," the nurse warned.

Laura sat up too quickly. Darkness started to creep around the edge of her vision. "I don't…" She tried to stand up. "…feel so…"

The nurse opened the door and poked her head out of the room. To Laura, her voice sounded far away.

"Hey, we have another one for the Barn in here!"

That didn't sound right.

"Wha… barn…?" Laura's voice was slurred and slow.

The world went sideways. Laura's body slumped back, knees buckling, but a pair of arms caught her under the armpits and lifted her onto a gurney. The ceiling tiles slid past overhead, each one a white rectangle in a grid that seemed to go on forever. She was fully unconscious before they had finished moving her.

---

"Mom! Mom! Are you alright?"

Evie's voice was the first thing that Laura's brain registered as consciousness began to return. The sound echoed, compounding with a throbbing headache. Laura opened her eyes, and her vision was immediately filled by Evie's face looking down at her with a scared expression.

She tried to sit, but her limbs felt dead. Evie held Laura's hand tightly, as if she was afraid her mother would disappear again. Laura tried to squeeze back, but her muscles refused to obey. The cot beneath her smelled like old sweat, and as she rolled her head to the side she saw that they were in a small room with a heavy door that was bolted shut. No windows, and no other way to tell what time it was, or how long she'd been out.

She tried to ask, "Where are we?" but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry and swollen, and the words came out as a croak.

Evie hovered over her, eyes red from crying. It took Laura a moment to realize that they were both completely naked; no one had given them their clothes after the exam room. She forced herself upright, arms shaking, and pulled Evie close, both for comfort and to shield her daughter's nakedness from whoever might walk through the door.

Evie pressed against her, skin bare and vulnerable. She'd always been small for her age, but now Laura could count each rib beneath that taut skin, and could see how the malnutrition had kept her chest almost flat. Laura's mouth opened, but comfort died on her tongue. All she could do was wrap trembling arms around her daughter and hold on, the gesture more desperate peer than protective parent. The only warmth in the room came from each other.

"They left us here after the shot," Evie said, tearing up. "You wouldn't wake up for hours. I thought— I thought you were…" She couldn't finish the thought.

Laura hugged her daughter tightly, simply relieved that they were both still alive. "I'm not. I'm okay, Evie. We're okay."

Evie hugged her back. "Mom, I'm scared. Why did they put us here? Where are the gardens?"

Laura hesitated, holding her daughter close, as if the force of her embrace could stave off the bewilderment and dread churning in her chest. "They must be doing more tests," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe this is just… some kind of quarantine." The idea barely seemed plausible, but she didn't want to think about the alternative.

With her daughter pressed against her body, it suddenly hit Laura that Evie's skin felt very warm; almost feverish despite the cold cell. She pulled away, and studied her daughter's face closely. "Are you alright, baby?"

Evie squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. "I'm not sure… I feel hot. And… weird."

Laura's headache had finally lessened, and in the clarity of its absence, she realized that she felt unnaturally warm as well. Her skin seemed extra sensitive, like the precursor of the flu. Were these side effects of the vaccine? Or was it something else?

She looked at Evie again with the calculating assessment of a mother. She noticed a flush on Evie's cheeks and her breathing was becoming ragged. She looked down, and realized that Evie was squeezing her thighs together, almost unconsciously, her hips giving the barest grind into the cot.

She didn't want to acknowledge what she was seeing. Didn't want to see Evie's nipples, crinkled and hard, or the tiny tremor in the girl's legs as she tried to hide whatever was happening to her. Laura wondered if this was some sick perversion by whoever ran this place, but she couldn't dwell on it; Evie was looking at her for guidance.

"It must be the shot they gave us," Laura told her. "You're just reacting to it." She tried to slow her breathing and stay calm, but the warmth under her skin was spreading.

"But I don't feel sick…" Evie whimpered. "It's like there's a fire in my body, and it's coming from…"

Then she opened her legs and looked down.

"Oh." She said in a small voice.

Laura's breath caught in her throat as she followed Evie's gaze. It was obscene; her vulva was red and swollen, glistening with thick, viscous fluid that clung in ropes to the insides of her trembling thighs. The sight horrified Laura, yet she found herself mesmerized, struggling to reconcile the pale skin of her daughter's small body with the raw, engorged mess between her legs. The lips had parted, exposing the glistening, twitching folds within. A pink stripe of inner flesh peeked between them, pulsing in time with Evie's heartbeat, while her tiny, swollen clit protruded above it, hard and throbbing.

Laura forced herself to breathe, shallow and fast, each inhale laced with the bite of fear. She wanted to cover Evie, to shield that raw, exposed place from air and sight, but her hands hovered, awkward and useless, inches from her daughter's knees. "Don't panic," she whispered, not sure if she was speaking to Evie or herself.

Evie's face twisted with a shame Laura had never seen in her before. The girl's legs pressed together, trying to hide the mess but only mashing the puffy folds more, forcing a fresh ooze of clear slickness to squelch down the inside of her thighs. Her fingers fluttered at her sides, then gripped the cot's edge with white-knuckled intensity. "Mom, make it stop," Evie moaned, voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears.

As Laura's mind raced for a way to help her daughter. "Hold on, baby. I'll… I'll find a—"

A wave of heat and need took her breath away, and she groaned from the intensity. Laura clenched her jaw, trying to suppress the unnatural hunger gnawing at her gut and rooting deeper with every heartbeat. She could feel wetness gathering between her own legs, and the urge to gasp, to arch her body, to grind herself against something, anything, nearly overpowered her.

She pressed her palm to the inside of her thigh, willing the tremor away. The skin was feverish to the touch. She tried to focus on her daughter's face and remember the girl who she needed to be strong for, but Evie's eyes were glassy with panic, her breath coming in helpless little sobs that edged into moans.

Laura looked around frantically, and spied a camera in the corner of the ceiling. In anger, she yelled at the inanimate object, "Hey! Hey, I know you're watching! My daughter needs help!" There was no response.

"Look at me. Evie, baby, I'm here." She pulled her closer, so they were forehead to forehead, just like how she had before they had entered the ARC. "I need you to breathe. Just breathe, okay?" Laura exaggerated her own breath, long and slow, though it shook at the end. Evie tried to mimic her. It didn't help; her hips kept rocking involuntary, as if something inside her was winding up tighter with every passing second.

Evie's hand darted down, burrowing between her thighs before Laura could stop her. The girl's knuckles whitened, arm trembling with a frantic energy. Lips pressed tight, she rocked herself on the cot, breaths coming in choppy gasps. Laura's gut clenched with a blend of horror and empathy; it took everything in her not to do the same.

Laura clamped a hand over Evie's wrist and dragged it from between her thighs. The girl bucked and twisted, but her mother's grip was firm. "No," Laura said, voice strangled. She held Evie's trembling hands between her own, squeezing harder than she meant, desperate to stop the frantic rubbing. "You have to fight it. You have to be strong, Evie. Listen to me."

Evie jerked, eyes streaming, her mouth wrenched open in a silent sob. Her knees snapped together, but her hips wouldn't stay still, humping helplessly at the empty air. The slickness between her legs had already coated the cot, and Laura's nostrils filled with the ripe scent of her daughter's arousal.

Evie's apology came out in bursts between breaths: "I'm so sorry, Mom. I can't stop. I can't." Tears began to fill her eyes.

Laura pulled her in, crushing Evie against her chest. "I know, I know it's hard, I feel it too," she murmured into the tangled hair. She pressed a trembling kiss to Evie's forehead, her own tears dampening the girl's burning skin. Evie's arms wrapped tight around her neck, and Laura's lips grazed her temple, then her hairline, desperate to soothe, desperate for any gesture of comfort. Evie's hips kept shuddering frantically, and Laura shushed her, murmuring, "You're safe, you're safe, there's nothing wrong with you—"

But Evie was shaking, moaning, her face brushing Laura's collarbone, her breath hot and damp. Laura's kisses trailed down, searching for words and finding none; she pressed her lips into her daughter's cheek, then her jaw. She was crying now, hopelessly, and the salt of her tears mixed with the sweat pouring from Evie's skin. She kissed her daughter's mouth to hush the whimpering, just a mother's kiss, but Evie pressed back, desperate, and Laura suddenly found herself tongue-deep in her daughter's mouth, overcome by a primal, animal hunger that left her reeling. She jerked away, swallowing hard, and Evie mewled in protest, hands scrabbling for her face, her hair, her neck. The girl was burning up, delirious, writhing in Laura's lap.

Laura tried to think. She had to think. Had to stay lucid. She fumbled for the edges of the cot, dragging Evie upright with her, but the girl clung tight, arms and legs lashing around Laura's body. "Please, Mommy, please—" She begged. Evie clawed at Laura, clutching at her back, legs wrapping around her mother's thigh and grinding up against muscle with desperate, humping jerks. Laura tried to pry her loose, but Evie clung, feral, her groin slick and burning against her mother's skin.

"Stop, baby, we need to stop!" Laura pleaded, but she couldn't stop her own hands from moving down Evie's back and finding her daughter's ass. Kneading and squeezing her soft flesh, she pulled Evie toward her hips until their bellies touched, her own cunt slick and throbbing against the frantic heat between her daughter's legs. The velvet friction of their joined juices was a living, writhing thing, so intense it blurred the boundaries of where one body ended and the other began.

"Oh Mommy, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Evie's hips bucked, needful and raw, grinding her raw, open slit against Laura's mound in a sticky smear. The sensation nearly made Laura black out. She had never been so helpless before her own body, never felt her clit this swollen, or her own folds this drenched. Her knees squeezed shut, trapping Evie's thigh, and she humped forward, mashing Evie's pussy into hers again and again. Both of them cried out at once; Laura in horror at what she was doing, Evie in pure pleasure.

Laura tried to force her mind anywhere but her daughter's little pussy, so engorged and wet and grinding against her own. She couldn't. She couldn't. Every time their hips pressed together, Laura's core twitched, the pressure building, and every atom in her body shrieked for release. Evie sobbed and whimpered and begged in a voice that Laura had never heard from her before. She pulled away, but Evie clung tighter, her arms a vice around Laura's neck, her pelvis locked to her mother's, and the world narrowed to just the two of them, locked together, their bodies slick with sticky, feverish need. Laura gritted her teeth hard, but her resolve failed under the squeeze of Evie's arms and the obscene friction of their joined flesh.

Then her daughter let out a keening, helpless wail, and her body convulsed with a violence that knocked Laura off-balance. The girl came, clamping her legs so tightly around Laura's waist that it hurt, and her little pussy pulsed, spasmed, and spat a syrupy gush that coated Laura's pubic bone and pooled beneath them on the cot.

The sight of her daughter's sticky, convulsing climax was all it took. Something monstrous let go inside Laura; some hard, maternal block in her brain shattered and the animal screamed free. Her hands shot up and gripped Evie's neck, and she pushed her daughter flat to the cot, straddling her small body, pinning her in the mess of their mingled juices. Evie's eyes went wide and blank with the end of her orgasm, her mouth slack and wet.

Laura ground her own cunt down onto the soft, trembling belly, desperate to rub the inferno out of herself. The friction was so raw, so slick, so good, and even as her mind screamed no with each thrust, her hips squirmed against her daughter's body, mashing herself into the sticky flesh, using her daughter's flesh as a toy, needing to cum, needing, needing—

She came with a strangled, silent cry, biting down on her lip until she tasted blood. The orgasm felt almost like a seizure. Her body locked, her cunt clamped down painfully, and every muscle in her abdomen tensed violently. Her vision went white at the edges. She felt, distantly, her own juices splattering across Evie's bare skin, mixing with her daughter's sticky mess, fusing their bodies together.

She collapsed, half on top of Evie, her breath stuttering between sobs and gasps. Evie whimpered and curled into herself, trembling, as if the last shreds of her will had been wrung out and left her hollow. Laura gathered her, pulling the girl into her arms, ignoring the sticky wetness between their bodies, the shame and the sickness. She cradled Evie, rocking their naked forms together on the cot, heaving ragged breaths until they began to slow down and even out. Laura stroked her daughter's hair, her hands sticky with their mingled fluids, trembling with exhaustion and horror.

Evie burrowed into her, shivering. Laura stroked the girl's temple, the soft fine hair already stuck with sweat. "I'm so sorry, baby. You're okay," she whispered. "It's not your fault. Do you hear me? Not your fault." The girl whimpered, nodded, pulled herself tighter into her mother's curves.

They lay there, mother curled protectively around her daughter, until they both fell into a deep sleep.

I'm sure that it's the best way to make money, especially on platforms like KDP. I considered going the KDP route when I first started writing, but then I wouldn't have nearly as much control over what I write.

Personally I'm so over seeing the hundredth story with a title something like "Taken By My Orc Stepbrothers On Spring Break" with the same shirtless stock photos on it. To me it comes off as a manufactured product, rather than a story that the author actually cares about. I'm not saying that erotica needs to be high art or anything, but as a reader, I want to feel like I'm reading a story that the author loved writing.

On top of that, regardless of what sells the best, I prefer to use titles, covers, and kinks that I personally like, rather than just making something that I think others would enjoy. If I was only trying to make money regardless of my enjoyment of the process, there are much easier sources of income out there.

If it works for you though, that's awesome. I'm just wondering if you still enjoy writing when you have to keep up with the ever-changing whims of Amazon or other platforms. There are other options out there! Building your own website and selling directly to your audience is still possible, and although it takes more effort, you get 100% royalties and full control over your stories.

Would love to hear your opinions.

Even days after her first night with Natalie, Mia felt like she was walking on sunshine. She bounced instead of walked and found herself humming at odd moments between classes. She doodled Natalie’s name all over the margins of her lecture notes with hearts everywhere. Mia knew it was a bit juvenile, but she didn’t care. She liked it. She liked being the girl who had someone waiting for her after practice, who could feel her phone buzz with a new message and know, before reading it, exactly who it was from. For the first time since coming to Ridgeview, she felt like she belonged to something. To someone.

The happiness she felt at being with Natalie bubbled up inside her until she couldn’t keep it in; she had to tell someone. Leah seemed to be spending more time outside their room these days, but Mia caught her at lunch in the cafeteria, sitting alone. Mia excitedly carried her tray over and set it down with a clatter.

Leah looked up at the noise. “Hey Mia,” she said flatly.

Mia squirmed in her seat, overwhelmed by the urge to blurt out everything at once. “Hi Leah! Guess what? Natalie and I are kind of official,” she said, testing how the words actually sounded in real life.

Leah didn’t respond. She turned back to her food, poking at her pasta with her fork.

“We hung out at her place,” Mia went on, lowering her voice even though nobody was listening. “Just the two of us. It was… amazing.”

Leah made a noncommittal noise. “Cool. That’s cool for you.”

Mia pushed ahead. “I think she really likes me.”

“That’s great.” Leah said, taking a bite.

“…Is… everything okay? You seem upset,” Mia asked, finally noticing Leah’s demeanor.

Leah gave a stiff shrug. “I’m fine.” She finally met Mia’s eyes again. “I just barely see you these days, Mia. What is going on?”

“I’m telling you what’s going on; I have a girlfriend now!” Mia beamed at her roommate.

“Oh really? She told you that?”

Mia’s smile faltered for a moment. “Well not exactly, but Natalie’s not really one for labels. She texts me all the time though, and she has a pet name for me, and, well,” Mia leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “I went down on her for like an hour the other night. I almost passed out!”

Leah raised her eyebrows at Mia’s explicit confession. “She sounds like a generous lover,” she quipped.

“She’ll have plenty of opportunities to take care of me!” Mia retorted. ”I just wanted you to know that it’s not just a stupid crush anymore.”

Leah nodded. “Good for you. Really. I just hope she’s not, like, using you.”

Mia bristled. “She’s not! How many times do I need to tell you?”

Leah abruptly stood up. “Alright then. I’ve gotta get to class.” She grabbed her tray and walked off. Left alone at the table, Mia was suddenly annoyed. Why couldn’t Leah just be happy for her? She’d finally found someone who made her feel alive, and all Leah wanted to do was poke holes in it. Maybe she was just jealous.

---

If Leah was going to be a stick in the mud, Mia decided that she would spend some more time with Natalie. She had seen the captain talking to the director of the Ridgeview football team, Coach Harlan, at the end of practice. Mia had overheard the coach mention that he needed to plan the performance for the next game after lunch, so she made up her mind to surprise Natalie after the meeting. It would be so nice to see Natalie’s face after dealing with Leah.

The offices of the athletic administration were in a building adjacent to the gym, and Mia headed in that direction. She went the long way around the athletic center, cutting across the quad, then up the back stairs to the second floor where the coaches’ offices lined a long corridor. Nobody was around; most of the administration was home for the weekend, leaving the building almost completely quiet. Mia walked down the hall with only the squeaks of her sneakers accompanying her.

She found the door with Coach Harlan’s name written on it and came to a stop. Wondering if the meeting was ongoing, she put her ear to the door and heard Harlan’s voice, deep but muffled. She couldn’t hear Natalie, however, even after waiting for a minute. Maybe she had already left?

Mia knocked; maybe Harlan would know where Natalie had gone. There was a long pause, then a gruff “Come in.”

Mia opened the door. There was only Harlan was at his desk, a huge man but slightly overweight, who seemed like he preferred to be on the football field than indoors. There was a strained expression on his face, and Mia thought he almost seemed ill. Natalie was nowhere to be found.

“Hi Mr. Harlan!” Mia said as she entered. “I’m Mia, on the cheer team. I was looking for Natalie; have you seen her?”

The coach didn’t get up. Instead, he gave her an odd expression that ended in a smile. “Ah yes, Natalie has told me all about you. In fact, she’s finishing up something for me right now. Do you want to see?”

“Sure, thank you!” Mia responded.

Harlan gestured for Mia to come closer, next to the desk where he was sitting. Mia stepped forward, slightly confused as to why the coach wanted her to move. As she rounded the corner of the desk, Harlan glanced down.

“Natalie, your girlfriend came to see you. How nice of her!”

Mia followed the coach’s gaze, and then froze in shock.

Natalie was under the desk, on her knees. Her ponytail was gripped tight in Harlan’s fist, while his thick cock, swollen and half-erect, lay across her face. The whole thing had spit and Natalie’s red lipstick smeared along its length, and Natalie’s mouth was buried in Coach Harlan’s crotch, slurping at the huge sweaty balls. It took Mia several seconds to process what she was seeing. While she tried to find the words to speak, Natalie pulled herself off of Harlan’s sack with a sucking noise and smiled lazily at the two people above her.

“Hey Mia, what’s up?”

This couldn’t be happening. Mia tried to find the words. “What— What are you… What’s…”

Natalie snorted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What, did you think we were exclusive? I’m not a lesbian like you, Mia.” The words were like punches to Mia’s gut. “You can’t satisfy all my needs, you know? Like my need to suck a thick cock and bury my face in sweaty balls.” She ran her hands down Harlan’s shaft for emphasis, spreading her own saliva around the hardening flesh.

“But you… You said I was yours,” Mia whispered.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and you are. But I’m not yours, Mouse. I’m not anybody’s.”

Turning back to Harlan, she slowly ran her tongue up the underside of his cock, dragging the flat of her tongue over the ridges and veins. Mia stared, horrified, as Natalie took the thick shaft in both hands and fed it into her mouth, lips barely able to fit around its girth. She pressed forwards as the whole thing disappeared, inch by inch, until her nose was mashed into the coach’s hairy belly.

“Ohhh fuck,” Harlan groaned.

Natalie gagged and then started moving. After only a few bobs of her head, she abruptly pulled back, letting the cock out of her mouth with a wet pop. The coach’s hand tightened in her hair, the tendons in his forearm straining, and then he jerked forward in the chair. Mia’s flinched, but she was unable to avert her gaze as a thick rope of cum arced from the swollen head, splattering across Natalie’s cheek and nose. Another spurt followed, the glob smearing into her mascara, and she just held there, tongue out, as the rest of it dripped onto her lips and chin. Natalie didn’t even flinch at the mess. She winked at Mia, and then used her fingers to scoop some of the cum off of her face, sucking the slime from her fingers like she was tasting icing from a spoon.

Mia’s vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. She let out a choked sob as the world collapsed around her, then turned and ran out of the room.

---

She made it back to her room with an automatic numbness, lost in Natalie’s betrayal and her destroyed emotions. Slamming the door behind her, she stumbled toward the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting into the bowl.

Stomach empty, Mia slumped over on the bathroom floor, gasping and sobbing in ugly, wet little bursts. Her mind kept looping the scene, over and over: Natalie’s face smeared with cum, the way her throat flexed as she slobbered on Harlan’s fat cock. She wanted to cut it out of her brain and erase the memory, but every time she closed her eyes, it was only more vivid.

She pressed her forehead into her knees, squeezing her eyes shut. Natalie had never touched her like that. Not once. Even on the night that Mia had worshiped her perfect pussy so devotedly, the cheer captain had offered nothing in return. She’d never gone down on Mia; not even a single lick to pretend she cared. But with Harlan, she was on her knees for him, gagging and slurping and getting her face painted. Why him? Why not her? Why couldn’t Natalie have wanted Mia that much, or needed her that way?

With weak legs, Mia staggered to the sink, rinsed her mouth, and stared at her reflection. Her hair was stuck to her cheeks, makeup streaked down her face. She hated Natalie for what she had done. But as her tears slowed, Mia realized that the feeling wasn’t really hate.

It was jealousy.

The image of her girlfriend on her knees for Harlan disgusted Mia, but the thought of someone as perfect as Natalie debasing herself for a man’s cock made her almost dizzy. It was sick. It was humiliating.

It made Mia’s pussy clench with hot arousal.

She tried not to picture Natalie lapping at Harlan’s cock, those red lips stretched wide around something Mia could never give. A pink, wet tongue licking balls that Mia couldn’t replace. Natalie was right. How could Mia ever fulfill those needs? How could she ever be good enough for Natalie?

“Stop,” she whispered to herself. “Stop it. Stop thinking about it.”

But she couldn’t. Before she could stop herself, she found her fingers slipping under her waistband. She ground her palm into the wetness there, hating herself, but not enough to stop. Her fingers worked fast and mean, the way Natalie liked to use her. She was wetter than she had ever been before, and she could feel the slickness coating her fingers. Her thumb found her clit and circled it roughly, and she bit her lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. She imagined it was Natalie’s thumb, Natalie’s mouth, Natalie’s smug voice telling her what a good girl she was for getting off to this.

Her hips bucked against her own hand, the rhythm desperate and graceless. She didn’t want this; she wanted to be angry. To be hurt. To be anything but this pathetic creature, masturbating on her knees to the memory of the person she loved cheating on her.

Then all at once she was cumming, the orgasm a violent, convulsive wave that crashed into her, leaving her gasping and shuddering against the cold tile floor. Her own choked cry echoed in the small space as her body seized, hips bucking against her slick palm. For a moment, the shame was obliterated by pure, animal sensation, a brutal release that felt less like pleasure and more like oblivion. The feeling was unlike anything Mia had experienced before.

Then, as quickly as it had crested, it was over. The aftershocks left her trembling, and the shame began to seep back into the space the climax had occupied. She pulled her hand away, her fingers dripping with her own pathetic need, and stared with a fresh wave of revulsion.

“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered to the perverted girl in the mirror. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

---

The next few days were miserable. Mia skipped cheer practice and classes, hiding herself from the world that had chewed her up and spit her out. Without the courage to block Natalie’s number, unread texts began to accumulate on her phone. Mia barely ate or slept, spending most of her time in bed wrapped in a cocoon of blankets.

At first Leah mostly left Mia alone. Then the next day, she came back to the room after class and saw Mia still in bed, with empty water bottles and candy bar wrappers strewn around the sheets like a sad nest. With a concerned expression, she walked over to the bed and poked the lump of blankets a few times.

“Hey Mia, are you okay?” she asked. “I know we haven’t been talking much, but… I’m here if you want to tell me what happened.”

Mia stayed silent, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would cry again. Leah’s hand came to rest on the blanket, the warmth of it seeping through the fabric to Mia’s shoulder. “Mia,” she said again. “Come on. I know something’s wrong. You can talk to me.”

The gentleness in her tone was too much for Mia. A sob tore from her throat, muffled by the duvet. She clutched the fabric tighter, hiding from the pity she was sure was on Leah’s face.

The mattress dipped as Leah sat on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” she murmured, patting Mia’s back. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Mia felt Leah’s weight shift, and then the blanket was being gently tugged away from her face. A moment later, Leah had her in a tight hug. They sat together for a minute, and when she finally calmed down, Mia wiped the tears from her red eyes with the back of her hand and looked up at her friend.

“It’s Natalie. I saw her with someone else,” she said in a choked voice.

Leah’s expression didn’t change. She roll her eyes or say ‘I told you so’. “I’m sorry,” she said instead. “That must have been really hard to see.”

“It was Coach Harlan,” Mia whispered. “In his office. She was… she was on her knees.”

That one caught Leah off guard. “Holy shit. Are you serious? He must be at least twice her age!”

Mia nodded, feeling a bit sick again. “She’s been seeing him for a while, I think. She— she was really into it.” Her voice hitched. “And she wasn’t even sorry. I think she actually wanted me to watch.”

Mia tried to ignore the growing wetness between her legs as she recounted the experience.

“That’s so fucked, Mia. I’m so sorry that happened.” Leah tried to change the subject to something more positive. “But forget that bitch; it’s over now. Let’s go get some sushi and boba. You need some girl time!”

The two girls spent the rest of the day together. Leah seemed so happy to have her friend back, and Mia really tried to enjoy it. She laughed at Leah’s impressions of their professors, nodded along to her animated stories of her psych class debates, and even finished the sweet milk tea Leah bought her. But at the edge of her mind, Natalie continued to haunt her thoughts.

Every time her phone buzzed from a text, Mia’s heart would leap out of habit. Then it would crash as she remembered what Natalie had done, and then her cheeks would burn and her thighs would squeeze together with a queasy arousal. After the third text, Mia couldn’t resist glancing at her phone.

Leah caught it immediately. “Is that Natalie? You blocked her, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Mia lied impulsively. “It’s just some spam text.”

That seemed to satisfy Leah, but Mia couldn’t help herself. A minute after putting her phone away, she stood up from their table. “Uh, I’ve gotta use the restroom. Be right back.”

Mia found the bathroom in the back of the sushi restaurant they were visiting and locked the door. Her phone felt heavy in her hand as she leaned against the sink. Leah was right. She should have blocked Natalie days ago; should have deleted the number and erased every trace. But her thumb swiped, unlocked the screen, and opened the new messages from Natalie.

The first was from the day she’d run from the office.

where’d u go mouse?

Another, sent late that night: u left me hanging. not cool.

Her stomach tightened with anxiety. She scrolled further.

ignoring me is something only bad girls do

A cold dread washed through her as she read the next message.

and bad girls get punished.

Then she scrolled down, and an image filled the screen. It was a picture of a pussy, shaved bare and flushed pink, spread wide by two fingers with blue nail polish. From the entrance, a thick glob of white cum was spilling out, a viscous pearl clinging to the folds. Mia couldn’t look away. She zoomed the image unconsciously, revolted and aroused all at once. She could almost smell the musky scent through the screen, the ghost of Harlan’s sweat and Natalie’s perfume mingling in her memory. Her thumb trembled as she scrolled to the text right after the image.

I need u to clean this up ❤️

Mia couldn’t breathe. Her knees nearly buckled as she stared at the vulgar, glistening mess she was being ordered to tend to. The cold porcelain of the sink bit into her lower back, a grounding pressure against the dizzying heat that flooded her core. Her thumb swiped to the image again, and her gaze snagged on dripping cum, the undeniable proof of where Natalie had been, and what she had done.

Almost unconsciously, Mia’s fingers crept beneath the waistband of her shorts. Before she could stop it, her hand was inside her shorts, then inside her underwear, then inside her. She was two knuckles deep before she realized what she was doing. Then all at once, her brain caught up to her instincts, and she whipped her hand back out and stared at her fingers in horror.

Slick, gooey strings connected them, damning evidence of her perversion. A tremor ran through her hand, making the strand quiver. This was Harlan’s doing. This was Natalie’s. This was the image of that glistening, ruined pussy on her screen, the command to clean it up, that had her body leaking and clenching like an animal in heat.

She should be screaming. She should be smashing her phone against the tile, shredding the photo from existence. Instead, she brought her fingers to her lips. The taste was sharp, salty-sweet, entirely her own. But as her tongue swept over her slick skin, she closed her eyes and it was Natalie she tasted. It was Harlan’s seed, thick and bitter, mixed with the intimate flavor of Natalie’s arousal. She was cleaning her, worshiping the mess he’d made, proving that she could be a good girl.

A low, broken sound escaped her throat, a sob and a moan tangled together. The humiliation was a live wire under her skin, sparking and sizzling, and her other hand was back between her legs, rubbing frantic, desperate circles. She wasn’t thinking anymore, just feeling, just obeying the vision of Natalie, spent and used, waiting for her.

Her fingers moved faster, frantic in their tiny, trembling circles. Her skin was so slick she could barely keep her grip; every time she pressed down, it was like her clit was a live wire, buzzing her whole pelvis with a shameful, needy current. She barely recognized her own touch, the desperate clawings of a girl not in control of herself, but in that moment, Mia was nothing but nerves and want. She was getting closer and closer to tipping into the abyss of an orgasm. She was almost there. Then there was a sharp knock on the door.

“Mia, you okay in there?” Leah’s voice, right outside the door, was a slap of cold water. Mia jerked her hand out of her shorts, heart pounding and breath stuck in her throat. She almost cried with frustration at her pleasure being so violently cut off, but instead, she replied in a shaky voice, “Yes— Sorry, I’ll be out in a second!”

---

When they got back to the dorm at the end of the day, Leah threw her keys into the bowl by the door and hopped onto her bed. “Did you have fun today?” she asked. Mia nodded, trying to sound normal, and sat across the room in the beanbag chair, where she could curl up tight and hide her face behind her knees.

She kept her gaze on a spot on the wall, body still buzzing from the restaurant. Leah was scrolling through her phone, humming quietly to herself. Mia sat perfectly still, resisting the urge to squirm. The ache between her legs hadn’t died down, and she was getting increasingly more irritable. If Leah would just fucking leave for a minute, Mia could finish what she had started. She desperately needed to strip down, pull up that picture again, and plunge her fingers back into her neglected pussy.

After what felt like forever, Leah set her phone aside and turned to Mia again. “So,” she said, “I was thinking tomorrow morning, we could go over some assignments together before class.”

Mia shook her head, still distracted. “Can’t. I have cheer practice.”

Leah blinked, confused. “Wait, you’re still going? I thought… aren’t you done with all that?”

“I can’t just quit,” Mia said, her voice small. “It’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean it’s not simple? You joined up for Natalie, and now there’s no reason to go anymore.”

Mia’s heart hammered, cheeks hot with guilt and panic. She scrambled for some kind of excuse that would be plausible. Under her skin, her craving for Natalie was a persistent, bitter ache, and the thought of never seeing her again felt like a punch to the gut.

“I just have to go back,” Mia answered. “I can’t quit. Not yet.”

Leah stared at her like she was insane. “Why, Mia? She humiliated you. She’s not going to stop. You know that, don’t you?”

The words cut, but Mia swallowed them. “I know, I just… don’t want to let the team down.”

Leah shook her head, disbelief etched across her face. “Bullshit. This isn’t about the team,” she said, “this is about you wanting to go back to her. You’re addicted to her, even though she treats you like garbage.”

“I’m not addicted,” Mia protested, but the word echoed in her mind. Addicted. Was that what this was? This constant craving, this desperate need to see Natalie even though it hurt so much?

“You’re unbelievable,” Leah said. “I thought—” She shook her head, biting back words, and then looked at Mia with a kind of pleading disgust. “I thought we were going to be friends again. I thought you were done being her fucking toy. But you’re just going to crawl back for more, aren’t you?”

Mia wanted to scream at Leah for seeing through her so easily. Instead, she stood up from the chair and snapped, “Why do you even care, Leah? You act like you’re my mom or something. I’m not a child; I can make my own decisions.”

Leah’s jaw clenched. “You’re right, Mia.” She turned away, breaking eye contact. “I don’t care anymore. Go get your heart broken again. See if I give a shit.”

The words hurt more than Mia expected. “God, why are you so obsessed with who I see? Is it because you’re jealous? You can’t stand to see me with someone when you’re still alone?”

“Get out.” Leah’s voice was chilling.

The words hung in the air for a second before Mia’s hurt turned to anger. “Fine. You want to be a bitch? You can be one all by yourself.” Her voice cracked. She grabbed her phone, keys, and a crumpled sweatshirt and left the room, slamming the door just loud enough to prove she could.

Mia was so angry she could barely see. She had no destination, just the need to be somewhere else. As she walked out of the freshmen dorm, Mia realized it was after midnight, and the cold air bit at her legs. After a few minutes of walking, her anger at Leah had mostly cooled down, but she couldn’t go back and face her friend, not after what she had said. So she kept walking, but as she cut across the quad, she realized with a sick certainty where her feet were taking her.

She entered the senior dorm trying to convince herself that this was the wrong decision. But in the moment, she felt that there was a sort of inevitability about what was happening. As if she was always going to do this. Like Natalie was a black hole that inexorably pulled her in.

Mia walked up a staircase and found herself in front of Natalie’s door. She watched her hand raise up, and then knock. The sound echoed in the hallway for a moment before the door swung inward.

“You’ve been a very bad girl, Mouse,” Natalie said with a smile.

Even days after her first night with Natalie, Mia felt like she was walking on sunshine. She bounced instead of walked and found herself humming at odd moments between classes. She doodled Natalie’s name all over the margins of her lecture notes with hearts everywhere. Mia knew it was a bit juvenile, but she didn’t care. She liked it. She liked being the girl who had someone waiting for her after practice, who could feel her phone buzz with a new message and know, before reading it, exactly who it was from. For the first time since coming to Ridgeview, she felt like she belonged to something. To someone.

The happiness she felt at being with Natalie bubbled up inside her until she couldn’t keep it in; she had to tell someone. Leah seemed to be spending more time outside their room these days, but Mia caught her at lunch in the cafeteria, sitting alone. Mia excitedly carried her tray over and set it down with a clatter.

Leah looked up at the noise. “Hey Mia,” she said flatly.

Mia squirmed in her seat, overwhelmed by the urge to blurt out everything at once. “Hi Leah! Guess what? Natalie and I are kind of official,” she said, testing how the words actually sounded in real life.

Leah didn’t respond. She turned back to her food, poking at her pasta with her fork.

“We hung out at her place,” Mia went on, lowering her voice even though nobody was listening. “Just the two of us. It was… amazing.”

Leah made a noncommittal noise. “Cool. That’s cool for you.”

Mia pushed ahead. “I think she really likes me.”

“That’s great.” Leah said, taking a bite.

“…Is… everything okay? You seem upset,” Mia asked, finally noticing Leah’s demeanor.

Leah gave a stiff shrug. “I’m fine.” She finally met Mia’s eyes again. “I just barely see you these days, Mia. What is going on?”

“I’m telling you what’s going on; I have a girlfriend now!” Mia beamed at her roommate.

“Oh really? She told you that?”

Mia’s smile faltered for a moment. “Well not exactly, but Natalie’s not really one for labels. She texts me all the time though, and she has a pet name for me, and, well,” Mia leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “I went down on her for like an hour the other night. I almost passed out!”

Leah raised her eyebrows at Mia’s explicit confession. “She sounds like a generous lover,” she quipped.

“She’ll have plenty of opportunities to take care of me!” Mia retorted. ”I just wanted you to know that it’s not just a stupid crush anymore.”

Leah nodded. “Good for you. Really. I just hope she’s not, like, using you.”

Mia bristled. “She’s not! How many times do I need to tell you?”

Leah abruptly stood up. “Alright then. I’ve gotta get to class.” She grabbed her tray and walked off. Left alone at the table, Mia was suddenly annoyed. Why couldn’t Leah just be happy for her? She’d finally found someone who made her feel alive, and all Leah wanted to do was poke holes in it. Maybe she was just jealous.

---

If Leah was going to be a stick in the mud, Mia decided that she would spend some more time with Natalie. She had seen the captain talking to the director of the Ridgeview football team, Coach Harlan, at the end of practice. Mia had overheard the coach mention that he needed to plan the performance for the next game after lunch, so she made up her mind to surprise Natalie after the meeting. It would be so nice to see Natalie’s face after dealing with Leah.

The offices of the athletic administration were in a building adjacent to the gym, and Mia headed in that direction. She went the long way around the athletic center, cutting across the quad, then up the back stairs to the second floor where the coaches’ offices lined a long corridor. Nobody was around; most of the administration was home for the weekend, leaving the building almost completely quiet. Mia walked down the hall with only the squeaks of her sneakers accompanying her.

She found the door with Coach Harlan’s name written on it and came to a stop. Wondering if the meeting was ongoing, she put her ear to the door and heard Harlan’s voice, deep but muffled. She couldn’t hear Natalie, however, even after waiting for a minute. Maybe she had already left?

Mia knocked; maybe Harlan would know where Natalie had gone. There was a long pause, then a gruff “Come in.”

Mia opened the door. There was only Harlan was at his desk, a huge man but slightly overweight, who seemed like he preferred to be on the football field than indoors. There was a strained expression on his face, and Mia thought he almost seemed ill. Natalie was nowhere to be found.

“Hi Mr. Harlan!” Mia said as she entered. “I’m Mia, on the cheer team. I was looking for Natalie; have you seen her?”

The coach didn’t get up. Instead, he gave her an odd expression that ended in a smile. “Ah yes, Natalie has told me all about you. In fact, she’s finishing up something for me right now. Do you want to see?”

“Sure, thank you!” Mia responded.

Harlan gestured for Mia to come closer, next to the desk where he was sitting. Mia stepped forward, slightly confused as to why the coach wanted her to move. As she rounded the corner of the desk, Harlan glanced down.

“Natalie, your girlfriend came to see you. How nice of her!”

Mia followed the coach’s gaze, and then froze in shock.

Natalie was under the desk, on her knees. Her ponytail was gripped tight in Harlan’s fist, while his thick cock, swollen and half-erect, lay across her face. The whole thing had spit and Natalie’s red lipstick smeared along its length, and Natalie’s mouth was buried in Coach Harlan’s crotch, slurping at the huge sweaty balls. It took Mia several seconds to process what she was seeing. While she tried to find the words to speak, Natalie pulled herself off of Harlan’s sack with a sucking noise and smiled lazily at the two people above her.

“Hey Mia, what’s up?”

This couldn’t be happening. Mia tried to find the words. “What— What are you… What’s…”

Natalie snorted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What, did you think we were exclusive? I’m not a lesbian like you, Mia.” The words were like punches to Mia’s gut. “You can’t satisfy all my needs, you know? Like my need to suck a thick cock and bury my face in sweaty balls.” She ran her hands down Harlan’s shaft for emphasis, spreading her own saliva around the hardening flesh.

“But you… You said I was yours,” Mia whispered.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and you are. But I’m not yours, Mouse. I’m not anybody’s.”

Turning back to Harlan, she slowly ran her tongue up the underside of his cock, dragging the flat of her tongue over the ridges and veins. Mia stared, horrified, as Natalie took the thick shaft in both hands and fed it into her mouth, lips barely able to fit around its girth. She pressed forwards as the whole thing disappeared, inch by inch, until her nose was mashed into the coach’s hairy belly.

“Ohhh fuck,” Harlan groaned.

Natalie gagged and then started moving. After only a few bobs of her head, she abruptly pulled back, letting the cock out of her mouth with a wet pop. The coach’s hand tightened in her hair, the tendons in his forearm straining, and then he jerked forward in the chair. Mia’s flinched, but she was unable to avert her gaze as a thick rope of cum arced from the swollen head, splattering across Natalie’s cheek and nose. Another spurt followed, the glob smearing into her mascara, and she just held there, tongue out, as the rest of it dripped onto her lips and chin. Natalie didn’t even flinch at the mess. She winked at Mia, and then used her fingers to scoop some of the cum off of her face, sucking the slime from her fingers like she was tasting icing from a spoon.

Mia’s vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. She let out a choked sob as the world collapsed around her, then turned and ran out of the room.

---

She made it back to her room with an automatic numbness, lost in Natalie’s betrayal and her destroyed emotions. Slamming the door behind her, she stumbled toward the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting into the bowl.

Stomach empty, Mia slumped over on the bathroom floor, gasping and sobbing in ugly, wet little bursts. Her mind kept looping the scene, over and over: Natalie’s face smeared with cum, the way her throat flexed as she slobbered on Harlan’s fat cock. She wanted to cut it out of her brain and erase the memory, but every time she closed her eyes, it was only more vivid.

She pressed her forehead into her knees, squeezing her eyes shut. Natalie had never touched her like that. Not once. Even on the night that Mia had worshiped her perfect pussy so devotedly, the cheer captain had offered nothing in return. She’d never gone down on Mia; not even a single lick to pretend she cared. But with Harlan, she was on her knees for him, gagging and slurping and getting her face painted. Why him? Why not her? Why couldn’t Natalie have wanted Mia that much, or needed her that way?

With weak legs, Mia staggered to the sink, rinsed her mouth, and stared at her reflection. Her hair was stuck to her cheeks, makeup streaked down her face. She hated Natalie for what she had done. But as her tears slowed, Mia realized that the feeling wasn’t really hate.

It was jealousy.

The image of her girlfriend on her knees for Harlan disgusted Mia, but the thought of someone as perfect as Natalie debasing herself for a man’s cock made her almost dizzy. It was sick. It was humiliating.

It made Mia’s pussy clench with hot arousal.

She tried not to picture Natalie lapping at Harlan’s cock, those red lips stretched wide around something Mia could never give. A pink, wet tongue licking balls that Mia couldn’t replace. Natalie was right. How could Mia ever fulfill those needs? How could she ever be good enough for Natalie?

“Stop,” she whispered to herself. “Stop it. Stop thinking about it.”

But she couldn’t. Before she could stop herself, she found her fingers slipping under her waistband. She ground her palm into the wetness there, hating herself, but not enough to stop. Her fingers worked fast and mean, the way Natalie liked to use her. She was wetter than she had ever been before, and she could feel the slickness coating her fingers. Her thumb found her clit and circled it roughly, and she bit her lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. She imagined it was Natalie’s thumb, Natalie’s mouth, Natalie’s smug voice telling her what a good girl she was for getting off to this.

Her hips bucked against her own hand, the rhythm desperate and graceless. She didn’t want this; she wanted to be angry. To be hurt. To be anything but this pathetic creature, masturbating on her knees to the memory of the person she loved cheating on her.

Then all at once she was cumming, the orgasm a violent, convulsive wave that crashed into her, leaving her gasping and shuddering against the cold tile floor. Her own choked cry echoed in the small space as her body seized, hips bucking against her slick palm. For a moment, the shame was obliterated by pure, animal sensation, a brutal release that felt less like pleasure and more like oblivion. The feeling was unlike anything Mia had experienced before.

Then, as quickly as it had crested, it was over. The aftershocks left her trembling, and the shame began to seep back into the space the climax had occupied. She pulled her hand away, her fingers dripping with her own pathetic need, and stared with a fresh wave of revulsion.

“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered to the perverted girl in the mirror. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

---

The next few days were miserable. Mia skipped cheer practice and classes, hiding herself from the world that had chewed her up and spit her out. Without the courage to block Natalie’s number, unread texts began to accumulate on her phone. Mia barely ate or slept, spending most of her time in bed wrapped in a cocoon of blankets.

At first Leah mostly left Mia alone. Then the next day, she came back to the room after class and saw Mia still in bed, with empty water bottles and candy bar wrappers strewn around the sheets like a sad nest. With a concerned expression, she walked over to the bed and poked the lump of blankets a few times.

“Hey Mia, are you okay?” she asked. “I know we haven’t been talking much, but… I’m here if you want to tell me what happened.”

Mia stayed silent, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would cry again. Leah’s hand came to rest on the blanket, the warmth of it seeping through the fabric to Mia’s shoulder. “Mia,” she said again. “Come on. I know something’s wrong. You can talk to me.”

The gentleness in her tone was too much for Mia. A sob tore from her throat, muffled by the duvet. She clutched the fabric tighter, hiding from the pity she was sure was on Leah’s face.

The mattress dipped as Leah sat on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” she murmured, patting Mia’s back. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Mia felt Leah’s weight shift, and then the blanket was being gently tugged away from her face. A moment later, Leah had her in a tight hug. They sat together for a minute, and when she finally calmed down, Mia wiped the tears from her red eyes with the back of her hand and looked up at her friend.

“It’s Natalie. I saw her with someone else,” she said in a choked voice.

Leah’s expression didn’t change. She roll her eyes or say ‘I told you so’. “I’m sorry,” she said instead. “That must have been really hard to see.”

“It was Coach Harlan,” Mia whispered. “In his office. She was… she was on her knees.”

That one caught Leah off guard. “Holy shit. Are you serious? He must be at least twice her age!”

Mia nodded, feeling a bit sick again. “She’s been seeing him for a while, I think. She— she was really into it.” Her voice hitched. “And she wasn’t even sorry. I think she actually wanted me to watch.”

Mia tried to ignore the growing wetness between her legs as she recounted the experience.

“That’s so fucked, Mia. I’m so sorry that happened.” Leah tried to change the subject to something more positive. “But forget that bitch; it’s over now. Let’s go get some sushi and boba. You need some girl time!”

The two girls spent the rest of the day together. Leah seemed so happy to have her friend back, and Mia really tried to enjoy it. She laughed at Leah’s impressions of their professors, nodded along to her animated stories of her psych class debates, and even finished the sweet milk tea Leah bought her. But at the edge of her mind, Natalie continued to haunt her thoughts.

Every time her phone buzzed from a text, Mia’s heart would leap out of habit. Then it would crash as she remembered what Natalie had done, and then her cheeks would burn and her thighs would squeeze together with a queasy arousal. After the third text, Mia couldn’t resist glancing at her phone.

Leah caught it immediately. “Is that Natalie? You blocked her, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Mia lied impulsively. “It’s just some spam text.”

That seemed to satisfy Leah, but Mia couldn’t help herself. A minute after putting her phone away, she stood up from their table. “Uh, I’ve gotta use the restroom. Be right back.”

Mia found the bathroom in the back of the sushi restaurant they were visiting and locked the door. Her phone felt heavy in her hand as she leaned against the sink. Leah was right. She should have blocked Natalie days ago; should have deleted the number and erased every trace. But her thumb swiped, unlocked the screen, and opened the new messages from Natalie.

The first was from the day she’d run from the office.

where’d u go mouse?

Another, sent late that night: u left me hanging. not cool.

Her stomach tightened with anxiety. She scrolled further.

ignoring me is something only bad girls do

A cold dread washed through her as she read the next message.

and bad girls get punished.

Then she scrolled down, and an image filled the screen. It was a picture of a pussy, shaved bare and flushed pink, spread wide by two fingers with blue nail polish. From the entrance, a thick glob of white cum was spilling out, a viscous pearl clinging to the folds. Mia couldn’t look away. She zoomed the image unconsciously, revolted and aroused all at once. She could almost smell the musky scent through the screen, the ghost of Harlan’s sweat and Natalie’s perfume mingling in her memory. Her thumb trembled as she scrolled to the text right after the image.

I need u to clean this up ❤️

Mia couldn’t breathe. Her knees nearly buckled as she stared at the vulgar, glistening mess she was being ordered to tend to. The cold porcelain of the sink bit into her lower back, a grounding pressure against the dizzying heat that flooded her core. Her thumb swiped to the image again, and her gaze snagged on dripping cum, the undeniable proof of where Natalie had been, and what she had done.

Almost unconsciously, Mia’s fingers crept beneath the waistband of her shorts. Before she could stop it, her hand was inside her shorts, then inside her underwear, then inside her. She was two knuckles deep before she realized what she was doing. Then all at once, her brain caught up to her instincts, and she whipped her hand back out and stared at her fingers in horror.

Slick, gooey strings connected them, damning evidence of her perversion. A tremor ran through her hand, making the strand quiver. This was Harlan’s doing. This was Natalie’s. This was the image of that glistening, ruined pussy on her screen, the command to clean it up, that had her body leaking and clenching like an animal in heat.

She should be screaming. She should be smashing her phone against the tile, shredding the photo from existence. Instead, she brought her fingers to her lips. The taste was sharp, salty-sweet, entirely her own. But as her tongue swept over her slick skin, she closed her eyes and it was Natalie she tasted. It was Harlan’s seed, thick and bitter, mixed with the intimate flavor of Natalie’s arousal. She was cleaning her, worshiping the mess he’d made, proving that she could be a good girl.

A low, broken sound escaped her throat, a sob and a moan tangled together. The humiliation was a live wire under her skin, sparking and sizzling, and her other hand was back between her legs, rubbing frantic, desperate circles. She wasn’t thinking anymore, just feeling, just obeying the vision of Natalie, spent and used, waiting for her.

Her fingers moved faster, frantic in their tiny, trembling circles. Her skin was so slick she could barely keep her grip; every time she pressed down, it was like her clit was a live wire, buzzing her whole pelvis with a shameful, needy current. She barely recognized her own touch, the desperate clawings of a girl not in control of herself, but in that moment, Mia was nothing but nerves and want. She was getting closer and closer to tipping into the abyss of an orgasm. She was almost there. Then there was a sharp knock on the door.

“Mia, you okay in there?” Leah’s voice, right outside the door, was a slap of cold water. Mia jerked her hand out of her shorts, heart pounding and breath stuck in her throat. She almost cried with frustration at her pleasure being so violently cut off, but instead, she replied in a shaky voice, “Yes— Sorry, I’ll be out in a second!”

---

When they got back to the dorm at the end of the day, Leah threw her keys into the bowl by the door and hopped onto her bed. “Did you have fun today?” she asked. Mia nodded, trying to sound normal, and sat across the room in the beanbag chair, where she could curl up tight and hide her face behind her knees.

She kept her gaze on a spot on the wall, body still buzzing from the restaurant. Leah was scrolling through her phone, humming quietly to herself. Mia sat perfectly still, resisting the urge to squirm. The ache between her legs hadn’t died down, and she was getting increasingly more irritable. If Leah would just fucking leave for a minute, Mia could finish what she had started. She desperately needed to strip down, pull up that picture again, and plunge her fingers back into her neglected pussy.

After what felt like forever, Leah set her phone aside and turned to Mia again. “So,” she said, “I was thinking tomorrow morning, we could go over some assignments together before class.”

Mia shook her head, still distracted. “Can’t. I have cheer practice.”

Leah blinked, confused. “Wait, you’re still going? I thought… aren’t you done with all that?”

“I can’t just quit,” Mia said, her voice small. “It’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean it’s not simple? You joined up for Natalie, and now there’s no reason to go anymore.”

Mia’s heart hammered, cheeks hot with guilt and panic. She scrambled for some kind of excuse that would be plausible. Under her skin, her craving for Natalie was a persistent, bitter ache, and the thought of never seeing her again felt like a punch to the gut.

“I just have to go back,” Mia answered. “I can’t quit. Not yet.”

Leah stared at her like she was insane. “Why, Mia? She humiliated you. She’s not going to stop. You know that, don’t you?”

The words cut, but Mia swallowed them. “I know, I just… don’t want to let the team down.”

Leah shook her head, disbelief etched across her face. “Bullshit. This isn’t about the team,” she said, “this is about you wanting to go back to her. You’re addicted to her, even though she treats you like garbage.”

“I’m not addicted,” Mia protested, but the word echoed in her mind. Addicted. Was that what this was? This constant craving, this desperate need to see Natalie even though it hurt so much?

“You’re unbelievable,” Leah said. “I thought—” She shook her head, biting back words, and then looked at Mia with a kind of pleading disgust. “I thought we were going to be friends again. I thought you were done being her fucking toy. But you’re just going to crawl back for more, aren’t you?”

Mia wanted to scream at Leah for seeing through her so easily. Instead, she stood up from the chair and snapped, “Why do you even care, Leah? You act like you’re my mom or something. I’m not a child; I can make my own decisions.”

Leah’s jaw clenched. “You’re right, Mia.” She turned away, breaking eye contact. “I don’t care anymore. Go get your heart broken again. See if I give a shit.”

The words hurt more than Mia expected. “God, why are you so obsessed with who I see? Is it because you’re jealous? You can’t stand to see me with someone when you’re still alone?”

“Get out.” Leah’s voice was chilling.

The words hung in the air for a second before Mia’s hurt turned to anger. “Fine. You want to be a bitch? You can be one all by yourself.” Her voice cracked. She grabbed her phone, keys, and a crumpled sweatshirt and left the room, slamming the door just loud enough to prove she could.

Mia was so angry she could barely see. She had no destination, just the need to be somewhere else. As she walked out of the freshmen dorm, Mia realized it was after midnight, and the cold air bit at her legs. After a few minutes of walking, her anger at Leah had mostly cooled down, but she couldn’t go back and face her friend, not after what she had said. So she kept walking, but as she cut across the quad, she realized with a sick certainty where her feet were taking her.

She entered the senior dorm trying to convince herself that this was the wrong decision. But in the moment, she felt that there was a sort of inevitability about what was happening. As if she was always going to do this. Like Natalie was a black hole that inexorably pulled her in.

Mia walked up a staircase and found herself in front of Natalie’s door. She watched her hand raise up, and then knock. The sound echoed in the hallway for a moment before the door swung inward.

“You’ve been a very bad girl, Mouse,” Natalie said with a smile.

Mia barely remembered the walk back to her dorm. When she finally pushed open the door to her own room, Leah was already there, huddled cross-legged on her bed in sweatpants, poring over a psychology textbook. She looked up at her roommate’s entrance.

“Hey girl,” Leah said, “How was practice?”

Mia didn’t trust herself to speak. She closed the door behind her, sagged into it, and let her backpack slide to the ground. The adrenaline withdrawal and the ache in her thighs made her want to sink into the floor.

Leah snapped her book shut. “What happened?” she asked, voice shifting instantly from snarky to concerned. “Did you fall? Did someone say something?”

Mia shook her head. “I’m fine, it’s—” She cut herself off. How do you even explain that one of your wet dreams had crossed the border into reality?

“Mia, come on,” Leah chided, examining her more closely. “Your hair is all wet, and your hands are trembling.”

Mia let out a shaky laugh. “I, um, had a weird day,” she managed to say. “Cheer practice was… intense.”

Leah didn’t blink. “Did they haze you or something?” She asked, scanning Mia for bruises or evidence of some physical humiliation.

“No, nothing like that. It was just practice. I’m okay.”

Leah eyed her for a long moment, then slowly picked up her book again. “If you say so.”

Exhausted from how the morning had gone, Mia threw herself onto her bed and lay face down, breathing in the familiar smell of the sheets. She was going to be sore next morning.

Leah peeked at her over the top of her textbook, ever curious. “So… Did you make any progress with Natalie?”

The mattress muffled Mia’s answer. She pulled her face free, hair plastered to her cheeks, and shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah. She… yeah.” The admission made her heart flutter and sink at the same time.

Leah’s eyes widened. “What? Babe, you need to give me the deets!”

Mia hugged her knees to her chest and looked at the wall. “It just happened,” she answered. “In the showers. She just walked in and—” She stopped, reluctant to recount how wild it had been, even to her best friend.

Leah’s eyes got even bigger. “Holy shit! Wait, so are you two an item now?”

“I don’t know,” Mia replied, burying her face in her hands. “She didn’t say. It’s not like we talked about it; everything happened so fast. She did tell me that I was hers, though. I’m not sure what that means exactly.”

Leah snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s so gay. But also kind of hot? I mean, if you’re into being property.”

“Ha, as if!” Mia laughed, but her flushing cheeks betrayed her.

Mia’s reaction was not lost on Leah. “Just be careful, okay? I know you like her, but people like Natalie… They don’t always mean what they say. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Leah’s concern frustrated Mia slightly. She wasn’t some kid anymore; she could take care of herself! But she knew in her heart that Leah meant well, so she swallowed the negativity.

“I won’t. I promise.”

---

The next morning, Mia’s phone woke her up with a text message.

hey, it’s natalie. wear a ponytail today, I want to see your face ❤️

Mia pressed her phone to her chest as a huge smile spread across her face. It hadn’t been a random fling! She got dressed and eagerly put her hair up into a tight black ponytail. Looking in the mirror, Mia thought that she looked a bit silly, but impressing Natalie was more important than a simple hairstyle change. She grabbed her bag and headed to the gym.

At practice, Natalie was already sprawled on the bleachers, phone out, laughing at something with a pair of senior girls. When Mia crossed over to the small group, their conversation dropped to a hush. Mia’s hands went clammy, but she kept her chin high. She was a cheerleader now, after all. Natalie beckoned her over with two fingers. “Hey Mouse, I like the hair,” she said, flicking the tip of Mia’s ponytail. “You look cute.”

The words hit like heroin. Mia tried to thank her, but it came out all choked and silly. Natalie just grinned, as if she found Mia’s awkwardness adorable. “Let’s see if you can keep up today,” she teased.

The morning’s thrill didn’t fade, even as Mia worked through routines until her lungs burned. She found herself sneaking glances at Natalie, watching the sharp lines of her jaw as she barked orders, the way her legs flexed on each landing. Once or twice their eyes met, and each time, the corner of Natalie’s mouth lifted in a tiny, private smile. Mia carried those moments like a secret under her skin.

After practice, Mia hit the showers, hoping that Natalie would join her again. She did not. After spending too long waiting in the hot water, she miserably dried and dressed herself, only to have her spirits lifted again as she caught sight of her crush leaving the locker room. She hurried to catch up to Natalie before she was gone.

“Hey!” Mia blurted, immediately regretting how loud she sounded. “Um. Are you… busy later?”

Natalie didn’t stop or look at her. “Why, you need more help stretching, Mouse?” Her tone was flirty, but she seemed distracted and kept walking. Mia nearly tripped over her own feet trying to keep up.

“I, um, thought maybe we could get coffee,” Mia managed. “If you want. Or lunch. Or whatever works.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Natalie answered lightly, finally looking at Mia. “But I’m super slammed today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Mia felt her stomach drop, but she forced a smile. “Yeah, totally! Next time.” The two senior girls from earlier caught up to Natalie just then, flanking her with effortless cool, and Mia dropped back, invisible again as the trio swept away down the hall.

---

As the week went by, Natalie’s texts had Mia checking her phone constantly, making sure that she didn’t miss a single one. The messages were never more than a sentence or two at a time, but Mia hung on every word that Natalie wrote her.

you looked so hot in that makeup ❤️

mouse, no more bras at cheer practice. not like you need them lol

can you grab me a matcha latte on your way to the gym?

Mia had tried to turn some of these texts into conversations, but Natalie would barely respond, at most giving a brief “lol” and then ignoring follow-up messages. It didn’t bother Mia too much though; she knew that upperclassmen didn’t have a lot of free time.

She began skipping study sessions with Leah to focus on cheerleading. The few times they crossed in the room, Leah stared at Mia’s new wardrobe of tiny cheer shorts, midriff tops, and thigh high socks, all more revealing than anything she’d ever worn. Mia pretended not to notice the disapproval in her friend’s gaze. Instead, she spent her evenings scrolling through makeup tutorials and trying to perfect the look that Natalie liked.

Mia’s grades, always a source of quiet pride, began a slow slide. She had tried to stay on top of things, but her mind was always elsewhere during class. Even her mother’s weekly check-in calls fell by the wayside, texts left on read, each unopened message another stone in her stomach. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the next time she could see Natalie.

Cheerleading had become a blur of performance and athletics, the routines growing harder with each session. Natalie presided over the squad with her usual energy, but she spent most of the practice close to Mia. Somehow the cheer captain found endless excuses to touch Mia in every exercise. Sometimes it was just her hand at Mia’s lower back, steering her toward the next drill. Other times it was much less subtle. If Mia lost her grip or wobbled, Natalie would steady her by sliding a palm from the back of her thigh up to the band of her skirt, sometimes squeezing, sometimes just letting her hand rest there a second too long. If they were far enough away from the other girls, Natalie would even whisper unspeakable things in Mia’s ear that would make her knees go weak and her cheeks turn red.

Outside of practice, however, things were very different. When Mia would run into Natalie on campus, it was as if she was a stranger. The cheer captain would barely acknowledge Mia, turning away in the dining hall even if they locked eyes. Only at practice did Natalie’s attention return, as if the outside world was a place where their relationship, if it was a relationship, didn’t or couldn’t exist.

Mia tried to rationalize it. Maybe Natalie was shy, or maybe she had a reputation to protect. A few times, she almost texted to ask what they were, but each time she chickened out, convincing herself it was better not to push it. The uncertainty churned under her skin, but she did anything Natalie wanted, no matter how small the request, hoping that eventually it would be enough.

After a week, Mia was an emotional mess. It was all so confusing. Did Natalie want her or not? Were they dating or not? She needed answers.

---

Then, one Saturday evening, her phone buzzed with a new text.

I need you. come over. now.

Mia’s heart skipped a beat; Natalie had never invited her anywhere before, let alone to her dorm. She read the words again, just in case she had hallucinated them, and then hastily wrote a response.

omw!!! ❤️

She stared at the screen, then deleted the heart. Then added it back. Her whole body vibrated with panic and anticipation. She rushed to her closet and yanked it open, pawing through her tiny stash of regular clothes, frustrated at how nerdy and childish they were. She needed to dress how Natalie liked. Eventually Mia decided on a skirt that barely covered her ass and a black crop top with no bra. As she donned the outfit, she looked at herself in the mirror.

She barely recognized herself. The girl in the mirror was not a Mouse at all, but a flash of stomach and thigh, hair yanked high and severe, with dark makeup that made her eyes look wide and mysterious. Anyone else would think she was a slut, but it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It only mattered what Natalie thought.

Mostly satisfied, Mia headed over to the senior dorm, trying not to run. Inside the other building, she ignored the stares she got from the upperclassmen she passed. Mia finally got to the door of Natalie’s room and came to an abrupt stop. She couldn’t mess this up. This was her only chance to show Natalie what she was worth.

She knocked.

The door opened. Natalie stood in front of her, completely naked, skin and hair damp from a shower. Mia froze, barely able to process the lines of muscle and curves and tanned skin, the way water droplets beaded on her collarbone, the nipples slick and pink and so incredibly real. She struggled to maintain her gaze on Natalie’s eyes, but it slipped, drawn like a magnet to the flawless curve of her breasts and the thighs that obscured the treasure between them.

“Uh…” Mia said, stuck in the doorway and unable to find the words.

“Cute outfit,” Natalie said, voice low and amused. She didn’t even try to hide her nakedness; she stood there glistening for a second, and then disappeared back into the room, her voice echoing from within.

“Come in, Mouse.”

Mia stepped inside. The dorm room was twice the size of Mia’s, its walls layered with sorority banners, glossy photos of parties, and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. There was only one bed; apparently Natalie didn’t have a roommate.

Natalie was already sprawled on her bed, typing on her phone. Mia hung by the door, not sure what to do. Without glancing up from her phone, Natalie asked, “Are you just here to stand around and stare, or are you going to get over here?”

Mia cringed. “Of course. Yes. Sorry.” She quickly scurried over to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Finally setting the phone aside, Natalie lounged back on her elbows with her knees drawn up, partially obscuring her body. “You’re not allowed to wear clothes in my room, understand?”

Mia’s skin prickled as a rush of blood filled her cheeks. Was Natalie joking? It didn’t sound like a joke. “Okay,” Mia’s voice cracked as she answered.

She hesitated, hands fluttering uncertainly over the hem of her skirt, before finally tugging it up and over her hips. She pulled off the tank top, exposing her chest with a shiver, and tried not to cover herself. Mia sat awkwardly in just her underwear, waiting for Natalie to laugh and tell her she was kidding.

Natalie looked at her expectantly. “Keep going.”

Breathless, Mia peeled away her panties, and her cheeks burned as she realized how slick the gusset had become, a transparent patch of shame glistening across the front. She balled the underwear in her fist, attempting to hide the evidence before Natalie noticed. She failed.

“I see you’ve been thinking about me,” Natalie smirked, and patted the middle of the mattress. “Come here.”

Mia crawled closer, the mattress dipping under her palms, until she was sitting right in front of Natalie, bare ass touching her heels. Natalie didn’t move; she just watched her with a feline focus.

“Mouse, have you ever been with a woman?”

Mia could barely get out an answer. “No.”

A satisfied smile spread across Natalie’s face. “Didn’t think so.”

As Mia’s face burned with embarrassment, Natalie continued. “It’s alright though; I love teaching newbies.”

Then she slowly let her knees fall open.

Natalie’s thighs spread like a blooming flower, and Mia gazed in awe at the sight before her. It was perfection. Her labia were waxed completely smooth, with a delicate, glistening clit peeking out as her legs widened further. Everything was pink and glistening in an intoxicating picture that drew Mia in like a moth to a flame. Framed by the soft curves of Natalie’s tanned thighs, the whole exquisite display left Mia sitting at the foot of the bed, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“Don’t be shy, Mouse.”

The words seemed to come from far away. Mia wordlessly crawled forward and knelt between Natalie’s knees, pulse pounding in her ears. She had no idea what to do. She wanted to ask, but her brain locked up and she just stared, hypnotized.

Apparently she took too long.

Natalie reached up and grabbed the back of Mia’s head, pulling her down into the soft, humid darkness, her fist locked on Mia’s ponytail like a leash. Mia barely had time to register the wet, tangy taste before Natalie’s hips surged up, grinding her clit against Mia’s mouth with a force that left no space for hesitation.

Mia struggled to orient herself. Every part of her face was pressed against Natalie’s pussy; her nose flattened, her lips mashed to the pink gash. Each breath only filled her lungs with the hot, wild scent of Natalie, leaving her lightheaded and desperate. Every time Mia tried to lift her head for more air, Natalie reeled her back in, her thighs clamping Mia’s ears. Escape was impossible.

“Don’t stop. Fucking lick me, Mouse.”

She tried her best to obey. Her tongue felt like a clumsy instrument, but she flattened it and licked Natalie’s vulva from the bottom up like a popsicle. In no time at all, her jaw began to ache from the unfamiliar motion. Natalie’s impatient grip bunched Mia’s hair into a fist, jerking her head in abrupt circles, grinding her nose and mouth into the soft, searing heat. Mia trembled with the effort to keep up; her tongue was already numb and exhausted, and she had no idea if she was doing it right. The only feedback was the way Natalie’s thighs tensed around her ears, sometimes rigid as steel, sometimes fluttering with a delicious shudder.

Then she heard Natalie give a disappointed sigh, and suddenly her thighs peeled away from Mia’s head. Bewildered and breathing heavily, Mia looked up at Natalie from between her legs. The older girl patted Mia’s cheek, smearing slickness across her chin in the process.

“Wow,” Natalie said, “you really are a virgin.”

The words stung, and Mia blinked, unsure what she was supposed to say. She wanted to apologize and beg for another chance, but Natalie was already moving. In one dizzying motion, Natalie grabbed Mia by the shoulders, flipped her onto her back, and climbed over her, straddling Mia’s head with both knees. Mia’s vision filled with the spread of Natalie’s thighs and pussy, somehow even more intimidating from this angle.

“Let’s see if you learn faster this way.”

Natalie shifted forward, and then settled the full weight of her pussy directly onto Mia’s face.

All at once the world was nothing but heat and slick pressure, her nose and lips buried in a suffocating darkness. Natalie’s thighs covered Mia’s ears, preventing her from hearing anything but the beat of her own heart. Each flex of muscle tightened the seal; each movement ground Mia’s tongue and lips flat to Natalie’s clit. There was no space for breathing, no time to think. Just the taste of sweat and arousal, the musky sweetness drowning her, the sound of her own desperate gasps interspersed with the low, approving moans from above when Natalie would lift her hips for a moment. Mia was just along for the ride. Hands were in her hair again, mashing her face against her hungry pussy until Mia could feel the wetness run down her chin and pool on her neck.

“Fuck yes,” Natalie moaned.

Natalie’s gasps of pleasure gave Mia new purpose as she finally found a rhythm in the aggressive grinding. She lost herself in it, and all she could do was obey the motion of Natalie’s hips and the grip of fingers in her hair. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe except when Natalie shifted her hips for a better angle, and then forced her back down, harder.

The ache in Mia’s jaw was nothing compared to the ache between her own legs, however. Eating out her crush, her queen, turned Mia on to the point that her own hips were lifting off the bed in search of some stimulation. She wanted to reach down, to grind against the mattress, to relieve the pressure even a little, but Natalie’s weight pinned her flat, her wrists trapped at her sides.

“That’s it, right there. Good girl.”

Mia felt her lips and chin beginning to numb, the skin tender from friction and the bottomless hunger of Natalie’s need. Sweat dripped from Mia’s hairline, running down her temples and into her eyes, stinging, but she kept at it, desperate to make Natalie happy. For a second, she lost her breath, panic fluttering in her chest, but then Natalie eased off and Mia inhaled, the taste of sex and girl saturating her every gasp. Her view was nothing but thigh and the pink, glistening lips that opened and closed around her tongue, as if trying to swallow her whole. She was drowning in it, wanted to drown. Her own cunt throbbed so badly she whimpered, and each time she tried to wriggle her hips, Natalie just pressed harder, mashing her into place.

It ended with a sudden, savage clench of Natalie’s thighs around her head. The cheer captain’s whole body trembled as she came, a violent, undulating rhythm that smothered Mia’s mouth and nose. Natalie’s hands held her in place until the shaking subsided. Her vision blurred at the edges; she was literally drowning in Natalie’s juices. Mia’s lungs burned, her face slippery with sweat and slick, and for a second she was sure she would black out. Then, at last, Natalie relaxed, exhaling a long, shuddering breath, and slumped forward onto the bed.

Mia lay pinned beneath her, breathing in short, ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. Her jaw and face were sore, but there was a strange, glowing satisfaction blooming in her chest, a secret pride that she’d given Natalie what she wanted.

Then, without warning, Natalie rolled to her side and drew Mia after her, pulling her up and into the curve of her body. Mia followed, too stunned to resist, and rested her head on Natalie’s breast. Her skin was warm, slick with sweat, and still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. For a minute, Mia lay there, afraid that any motion would shatter the spell. Then she felt Natalie’s arm wrap around her waist.

“That was pretty good for a virgin, Mouse,” Natalie said. The praise made Mia swoon, her face burning against the captain’s collarbone. She wanted to say something back, but all that came out was a giddy, helpless giggle.

Natalie shifted lazily, rolling Mia onto her back and looming above. “You’re a mess,” she said, smirking. Natalie bent close, her hand bracing on the bed beside Mia’s ear, and without warning, licked a long, slow stripe along Mia’s jaw. She licked Mia until most of the juices were replaced by Natalie’s saliva, and then pressed their mouths together in a messy and sloppy kiss.

Natalie’s teeth grazed Mia’s lower lip, nipping hard enough to sting. “Damn, I taste good,” she said, her voice low and proud. She grinned and pressed her mouth to Mia’s again, tongue invading, claiming her. She moaned softly into Natalie’s mouth, the taste and the pressure boiling up inside her until she thought she might cum just from kissing. She was so wet. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for friction, hoping Natalie would notice. But Natalie just shifted onto her side, arms encircling Mia as Natalie pulled her into a spooning position. The kiss trailed off into a slow, lazy nibble at Mia’s ear. Then Natalie barely bothered to open her eyes as she mumbled, “You’re so adorable,” and tucked her face into the back of Mia’s neck.

Mia lay rigid, tuned to every point of contact. Natalie’s nipple pressed against the curve of her shoulder; the captain’s thigh hooked over Mia’s own, pinning her in place, pubic bone mashed hard against her ass. Every time Mia breathed, she could feel Natalie’s abs flexing against her lower back, slick with sweat. Natalie’s breathing slowed, her chest rising deeper, slower, the slight shudder in her arms quieting as her body relaxed around Mia. The captain’s grip slackened by degrees, her hand slipping to rest loosely against Mia’s stomach, and her breaths came heavy against the nape of Mia’s neck. Within minutes, Natalie was sound asleep.

Trapped in Natalie’s embrace, Mia was still wide awake. Her body buzzed with unquenched arousal. Every time Mia tried to shift, the captain’s grip would reflexively tighten, pinning her in place. Mia’s thighs pressed together with a pulse that refused to die down. She couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d done, the taste of Natalie, the way her whole body had been used until there was nothing left to give.

She lay there for what felt like hours, as the room grew dark with the onset of night, and her throbbing clit and dripping wetness refused to lessen. She thought about reaching down, daring to touch herself with Natalie sleeping so close, but she couldn’t move her arms. She breathed, deep and aching, and counted each exhale as if it might slow her heart.

Eventually Mia’s own exhaustion won out, and she drifted into a fitful, confused sleep.

Mia barely remembered the walk back to her dorm. When she finally pushed open the door to her own room, Leah was already there, huddled cross-legged on her bed in sweatpants, poring over a psychology textbook. She looked up at her roommate’s entrance.

“Hey girl,” Leah said, “How was practice?”

Mia didn’t trust herself to speak. She closed the door behind her, sagged into it, and let her backpack slide to the ground. The adrenaline withdrawal and the ache in her thighs made her want to sink into the floor.

Leah snapped her book shut. “What happened?” she asked, voice shifting instantly from snarky to concerned. “Did you fall? Did someone say something?”

Mia shook her head. “I’m fine, it’s—” She cut herself off. How do you even explain that one of your wet dreams had crossed the border into reality?

“Mia, come on,” Leah chided, examining her more closely. “Your hair is all wet, and your hands are trembling.”

Mia let out a shaky laugh. “I, um, had a weird day,” she managed to say. “Cheer practice was… intense.”

Leah didn’t blink. “Did they haze you or something?” She asked, scanning Mia for bruises or evidence of some physical humiliation.

“No, nothing like that. It was just practice. I’m okay.”

Leah eyed her for a long moment, then slowly picked up her book again. “If you say so.”

Exhausted from how the morning had gone, Mia threw herself onto her bed and lay face down, breathing in the familiar smell of the sheets. She was going to be sore next morning.

Leah peeked at her over the top of her textbook, ever curious. “So… Did you make any progress with Natalie?”

The mattress muffled Mia’s answer. She pulled her face free, hair plastered to her cheeks, and shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah. She… yeah.” The admission made her heart flutter and sink at the same time.

Leah’s eyes widened. “What? Babe, you need to give me the deets!”

Mia hugged her knees to her chest and looked at the wall. “It just happened,” she answered. “In the showers. She just walked in and—” She stopped, reluctant to recount how wild it had been, even to her best friend.

Leah’s eyes got even bigger. “Holy shit! Wait, so are you two an item now?”

“I don’t know,” Mia replied, burying her face in her hands. “She didn’t say. It’s not like we talked about it; everything happened so fast. She did tell me that I was hers, though. I’m not sure what that means exactly.”

Leah snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s so gay. But also kind of hot? I mean, if you’re into being property.”

“Ha, as if!” Mia laughed, but her flushing cheeks betrayed her.

Mia’s reaction was not lost on Leah. “Just be careful, okay? I know you like her, but people like Natalie… They don’t always mean what they say. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Leah’s concern frustrated Mia slightly. She wasn’t some kid anymore; she could take care of herself! But she knew in her heart that Leah meant well, so she swallowed the negativity.

“I won’t. I promise.”

---

The next morning, Mia’s phone woke her up with a text message.

hey, it’s natalie. wear a ponytail today, I want to see your face ❤️

Mia pressed her phone to her chest as a huge smile spread across her face. It hadn’t been a random fling! She got dressed and eagerly put her hair up into a tight black ponytail. Looking in the mirror, Mia thought that she looked a bit silly, but impressing Natalie was more important than a simple hairstyle change. She grabbed her bag and headed to the gym.

At practice, Natalie was already sprawled on the bleachers, phone out, laughing at something with a pair of senior girls. When Mia crossed over to the small group, their conversation dropped to a hush. Mia’s hands went clammy, but she kept her chin high. She was a cheerleader now, after all. Natalie beckoned her over with two fingers. “Hey Mouse, I like the hair,” she said, flicking the tip of Mia’s ponytail. “You look cute.”

The words hit like heroin. Mia tried to thank her, but it came out all choked and silly. Natalie just grinned, as if she found Mia’s awkwardness adorable. “Let’s see if you can keep up today,” she teased.

The morning’s thrill didn’t fade, even as Mia worked through routines until her lungs burned. She found herself sneaking glances at Natalie, watching the sharp lines of her jaw as she barked orders, the way her legs flexed on each landing. Once or twice their eyes met, and each time, the corner of Natalie’s mouth lifted in a tiny, private smile. Mia carried those moments like a secret under her skin.

After practice, Mia hit the showers, hoping that Natalie would join her again. She did not. After spending too long waiting in the hot water, she miserably dried and dressed herself, only to have her spirits lifted again as she caught sight of her crush leaving the locker room. She hurried to catch up to Natalie before she was gone.

“Hey!” Mia blurted, immediately regretting how loud she sounded. “Um. Are you… busy later?”

Natalie didn’t stop or look at her. “Why, you need more help stretching, Mouse?” Her tone was flirty, but she seemed distracted and kept walking. Mia nearly tripped over her own feet trying to keep up.

“I, um, thought maybe we could get coffee,” Mia managed. “If you want. Or lunch. Or whatever works.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Natalie answered lightly, finally looking at Mia. “But I’m super slammed today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Mia felt her stomach drop, but she forced a smile. “Yeah, totally! Next time.” The two senior girls from earlier caught up to Natalie just then, flanking her with effortless cool, and Mia dropped back, invisible again as the trio swept away down the hall.

---

As the week went by, Natalie’s texts had Mia checking her phone constantly, making sure that she didn’t miss a single one. The messages were never more than a sentence or two at a time, but Mia hung on every word that Natalie wrote her.

you looked so hot in that makeup ❤️

mouse, no more bras at cheer practice. not like you need them lol

can you grab me a matcha latte on your way to the gym?

Mia had tried to turn some of these texts into conversations, but Natalie would barely respond, at most giving a brief “lol” and then ignoring follow-up messages. It didn’t bother Mia too much though; she knew that upperclassmen didn’t have a lot of free time.

She began skipping study sessions with Leah to focus on cheerleading. The few times they crossed in the room, Leah stared at Mia’s new wardrobe of tiny cheer shorts, midriff tops, and thigh high socks, all more revealing than anything she’d ever worn. Mia pretended not to notice the disapproval in her friend’s gaze. Instead, she spent her evenings scrolling through makeup tutorials and trying to perfect the look that Natalie liked.

Mia’s grades, always a source of quiet pride, began a slow slide. She had tried to stay on top of things, but her mind was always elsewhere during class. Even her mother’s weekly check-in calls fell by the wayside, texts left on read, each unopened message another stone in her stomach. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the next time she could see Natalie.

Cheerleading had become a blur of performance and athletics, the routines growing harder with each session. Natalie presided over the squad with her usual energy, but she spent most of the practice close to Mia. Somehow the cheer captain found endless excuses to touch Mia in every exercise. Sometimes it was just her hand at Mia’s lower back, steering her toward the next drill. Other times it was much less subtle. If Mia lost her grip or wobbled, Natalie would steady her by sliding a palm from the back of her thigh up to the band of her skirt, sometimes squeezing, sometimes just letting her hand rest there a second too long. If they were far enough away from the other girls, Natalie would even whisper unspeakable things in Mia’s ear that would make her knees go weak and her cheeks turn red.

Outside of practice, however, things were very different. When Mia would run into Natalie on campus, it was as if she was a stranger. The cheer captain would barely acknowledge Mia, turning away in the dining hall even if they locked eyes. Only at practice did Natalie’s attention return, as if the outside world was a place where their relationship, if it was a relationship, didn’t or couldn’t exist.

Mia tried to rationalize it. Maybe Natalie was shy, or maybe she had a reputation to protect. A few times, she almost texted to ask what they were, but each time she chickened out, convincing herself it was better not to push it. The uncertainty churned under her skin, but she did anything Natalie wanted, no matter how small the request, hoping that eventually it would be enough.

After a week, Mia was an emotional mess. It was all so confusing. Did Natalie want her or not? Were they dating or not? She needed answers.

---

Then, one Saturday evening, her phone buzzed with a new text.

I need you. come over. now.

Mia’s heart skipped a beat; Natalie had never invited her anywhere before, let alone to her dorm. She read the words again, just in case she had hallucinated them, and then hastily wrote a response.

omw!!! ❤️

She stared at the screen, then deleted the heart. Then added it back. Her whole body vibrated with panic and anticipation. She rushed to her closet and yanked it open, pawing through her tiny stash of regular clothes, frustrated at how nerdy and childish they were. She needed to dress how Natalie liked. Eventually Mia decided on a skirt that barely covered her ass and a black crop top with no bra. As she donned the outfit, she looked at herself in the mirror.

She barely recognized herself. The girl in the mirror was not a Mouse at all, but a flash of stomach and thigh, hair yanked high and severe, with dark makeup that made her eyes look wide and mysterious. Anyone else would think she was a slut, but it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It only mattered what Natalie thought.

Mostly satisfied, Mia headed over to the senior dorm, trying not to run. Inside the other building, she ignored the stares she got from the upperclassmen she passed. Mia finally got to the door of Natalie’s room and came to an abrupt stop. She couldn’t mess this up. This was her only chance to show Natalie what she was worth.

She knocked.

The door opened. Natalie stood in front of her, completely naked, skin and hair damp from a shower. Mia froze, barely able to process the lines of muscle and curves and tanned skin, the way water droplets beaded on her collarbone, the nipples slick and pink and so incredibly real. She struggled to maintain her gaze on Natalie’s eyes, but it slipped, drawn like a magnet to the flawless curve of her breasts and the thighs that obscured the treasure between them.

“Uh…” Mia said, stuck in the doorway and unable to find the words.

“Cute outfit,” Natalie said, voice low and amused. She didn’t even try to hide her nakedness; she stood there glistening for a second, and then disappeared back into the room, her voice echoing from within.

“Come in, Mouse.”

Mia stepped inside. The dorm room was twice the size of Mia’s, its walls layered with sorority banners, glossy photos of parties, and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. There was only one bed; apparently Natalie didn’t have a roommate.

Natalie was already sprawled on her bed, typing on her phone. Mia hung by the door, not sure what to do. Without glancing up from her phone, Natalie asked, “Are you just here to stand around and stare, or are you going to get over here?”

Mia cringed. “Of course. Yes. Sorry.” She quickly scurried over to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Finally setting the phone aside, Natalie lounged back on her elbows with her knees drawn up, partially obscuring her body. “You’re not allowed to wear clothes in my room, understand?”

Mia’s skin prickled as a rush of blood filled her cheeks. Was Natalie joking? It didn’t sound like a joke. “Okay,” Mia’s voice cracked as she answered.

She hesitated, hands fluttering uncertainly over the hem of her skirt, before finally tugging it up and over her hips. She pulled off the tank top, exposing her chest with a shiver, and tried not to cover herself. Mia sat awkwardly in just her underwear, waiting for Natalie to laugh and tell her she was kidding.

Natalie looked at her expectantly. “Keep going.”

Breathless, Mia peeled away her panties, and her cheeks burned as she realized how slick the gusset had become, a transparent patch of shame glistening across the front. She balled the underwear in her fist, attempting to hide the evidence before Natalie noticed. She failed.

“I see you’ve been thinking about me,” Natalie smirked, and patted the middle of the mattress. “Come here.”

Mia crawled closer, the mattress dipping under her palms, until she was sitting right in front of Natalie, bare ass touching her heels. Natalie didn’t move; she just watched her with a feline focus.

“Mouse, have you ever been with a woman?”

Mia could barely get out an answer. “No.”

A satisfied smile spread across Natalie’s face. “Didn’t think so.”

As Mia’s face burned with embarrassment, Natalie continued. “It’s alright though; I love teaching newbies.”

Then she slowly let her knees fall open.

Natalie’s thighs spread like a blooming flower, and Mia gazed in awe at the sight before her. It was perfection. Her labia were waxed completely smooth, with a delicate, glistening clit peeking out as her legs widened further. Everything was pink and glistening in an intoxicating picture that drew Mia in like a moth to a flame. Framed by the soft curves of Natalie’s tanned thighs, the whole exquisite display left Mia sitting at the foot of the bed, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“Don’t be shy, Mouse.”

The words seemed to come from far away. Mia wordlessly crawled forward and knelt between Natalie’s knees, pulse pounding in her ears. She had no idea what to do. She wanted to ask, but her brain locked up and she just stared, hypnotized.

Apparently she took too long.

Natalie reached up and grabbed the back of Mia’s head, pulling her down into the soft, humid darkness, her fist locked on Mia’s ponytail like a leash. Mia barely had time to register the wet, tangy taste before Natalie’s hips surged up, grinding her clit against Mia’s mouth with a force that left no space for hesitation.

Mia struggled to orient herself. Every part of her face was pressed against Natalie’s pussy; her nose flattened, her lips mashed to the pink gash. Each breath only filled her lungs with the hot, wild scent of Natalie, leaving her lightheaded and desperate. Every time Mia tried to lift her head for more air, Natalie reeled her back in, her thighs clamping Mia’s ears. Escape was impossible.

“Don’t stop. Fucking lick me, Mouse.”

She tried her best to obey. Her tongue felt like a clumsy instrument, but she flattened it and licked Natalie’s vulva from the bottom up like a popsicle. In no time at all, her jaw began to ache from the unfamiliar motion. Natalie’s impatient grip bunched Mia’s hair into a fist, jerking her head in abrupt circles, grinding her nose and mouth into the soft, searing heat. Mia trembled with the effort to keep up; her tongue was already numb and exhausted, and she had no idea if she was doing it right. The only feedback was the way Natalie’s thighs tensed around her ears, sometimes rigid as steel, sometimes fluttering with a delicious shudder.

Then she heard Natalie give a disappointed sigh, and suddenly her thighs peeled away from Mia’s head. Bewildered and breathing heavily, Mia looked up at Natalie from between her legs. The older girl patted Mia’s cheek, smearing slickness across her chin in the process.

“Wow,” Natalie said, “you really are a virgin.”

The words stung, and Mia blinked, unsure what she was supposed to say. She wanted to apologize and beg for another chance, but Natalie was already moving. In one dizzying motion, Natalie grabbed Mia by the shoulders, flipped her onto her back, and climbed over her, straddling Mia’s head with both knees. Mia’s vision filled with the spread of Natalie’s thighs and pussy, somehow even more intimidating from this angle.

“Let’s see if you learn faster this way.”

Natalie shifted forward, and then settled the full weight of her pussy directly onto Mia’s face.

All at once the world was nothing but heat and slick pressure, her nose and lips buried in a suffocating darkness. Natalie’s thighs covered Mia’s ears, preventing her from hearing anything but the beat of her own heart. Each flex of muscle tightened the seal; each movement ground Mia’s tongue and lips flat to Natalie’s clit. There was no space for breathing, no time to think. Just the taste of sweat and arousal, the musky sweetness drowning her, the sound of her own desperate gasps interspersed with the low, approving moans from above when Natalie would lift her hips for a moment. Mia was just along for the ride. Hands were in her hair again, mashing her face against her hungry pussy until Mia could feel the wetness run down her chin and pool on her neck.

“Fuck yes,” Natalie moaned.

Natalie’s gasps of pleasure gave Mia new purpose as she finally found a rhythm in the aggressive grinding. She lost herself in it, and all she could do was obey the motion of Natalie’s hips and the grip of fingers in her hair. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe except when Natalie shifted her hips for a better angle, and then forced her back down, harder.

The ache in Mia’s jaw was nothing compared to the ache between her own legs, however. Eating out her crush, her queen, turned Mia on to the point that her own hips were lifting off the bed in search of some stimulation. She wanted to reach down, to grind against the mattress, to relieve the pressure even a little, but Natalie’s weight pinned her flat, her wrists trapped at her sides.

“That’s it, right there. Good girl.”

Mia felt her lips and chin beginning to numb, the skin tender from friction and the bottomless hunger of Natalie’s need. Sweat dripped from Mia’s hairline, running down her temples and into her eyes, stinging, but she kept at it, desperate to make Natalie happy. For a second, she lost her breath, panic fluttering in her chest, but then Natalie eased off and Mia inhaled, the taste of sex and girl saturating her every gasp. Her view was nothing but thigh and the pink, glistening lips that opened and closed around her tongue, as if trying to swallow her whole. She was drowning in it, wanted to drown. Her own cunt throbbed so badly she whimpered, and each time she tried to wriggle her hips, Natalie just pressed harder, mashing her into place.

It ended with a sudden, savage clench of Natalie’s thighs around her head. The cheer captain’s whole body trembled as she came, a violent, undulating rhythm that smothered Mia’s mouth and nose. Natalie’s hands held her in place until the shaking subsided. Her vision blurred at the edges; she was literally drowning in Natalie’s juices. Mia’s lungs burned, her face slippery with sweat and slick, and for a second she was sure she would black out. Then, at last, Natalie relaxed, exhaling a long, shuddering breath, and slumped forward onto the bed.

Mia lay pinned beneath her, breathing in short, ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. Her jaw and face were sore, but there was a strange, glowing satisfaction blooming in her chest, a secret pride that she’d given Natalie what she wanted.

Then, without warning, Natalie rolled to her side and drew Mia after her, pulling her up and into the curve of her body. Mia followed, too stunned to resist, and rested her head on Natalie’s breast. Her skin was warm, slick with sweat, and still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. For a minute, Mia lay there, afraid that any motion would shatter the spell. Then she felt Natalie’s arm wrap around her waist.

“That was pretty good for a virgin, Mouse,” Natalie said. The praise made Mia swoon, her face burning against the captain’s collarbone. She wanted to say something back, but all that came out was a giddy, helpless giggle.

Natalie shifted lazily, rolling Mia onto her back and looming above. “You’re a mess,” she said, smirking. Natalie bent close, her hand bracing on the bed beside Mia’s ear, and without warning, licked a long, slow stripe along Mia’s jaw. She licked Mia until most of the juices were replaced by Natalie’s saliva, and then pressed their mouths together in a messy and sloppy kiss.

Natalie’s teeth grazed Mia’s lower lip, nipping hard enough to sting. “Damn, I taste good,” she said, her voice low and proud. She grinned and pressed her mouth to Mia’s again, tongue invading, claiming her. She moaned softly into Natalie’s mouth, the taste and the pressure boiling up inside her until she thought she might cum just from kissing. She was so wet. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for friction, hoping Natalie would notice. But Natalie just shifted onto her side, arms encircling Mia as Natalie pulled her into a spooning position. The kiss trailed off into a slow, lazy nibble at Mia’s ear. Then Natalie barely bothered to open her eyes as she mumbled, “You’re so adorable,” and tucked her face into the back of Mia’s neck.

Mia lay rigid, tuned to every point of contact. Natalie’s nipple pressed against the curve of her shoulder; the captain’s thigh hooked over Mia’s own, pinning her in place, pubic bone mashed hard against her ass. Every time Mia breathed, she could feel Natalie’s abs flexing against her lower back, slick with sweat. Natalie’s breathing slowed, her chest rising deeper, slower, the slight shudder in her arms quieting as her body relaxed around Mia. The captain’s grip slackened by degrees, her hand slipping to rest loosely against Mia’s stomach, and her breaths came heavy against the nape of Mia’s neck. Within minutes, Natalie was sound asleep.

Trapped in Natalie’s embrace, Mia was still wide awake. Her body buzzed with unquenched arousal. Every time Mia tried to shift, the captain’s grip would reflexively tighten, pinning her in place. Mia’s thighs pressed together with a pulse that refused to die down. She couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d done, the taste of Natalie, the way her whole body had been used until there was nothing left to give.

She lay there for what felt like hours, as the room grew dark with the onset of night, and her throbbing clit and dripping wetness refused to lessen. She thought about reaching down, daring to touch herself with Natalie sleeping so close, but she couldn’t move her arms. She breathed, deep and aching, and counted each exhale as if it might slow her heart.

Eventually Mia’s own exhaustion won out, and she drifted into a fitful, confused sleep.

Mia barely remembered the walk back to her dorm. When she finally pushed open the door to her own room, Leah was already there, huddled cross-legged on her bed in sweatpants, poring over a psychology textbook. She looked up at her roommate’s entrance.

“Hey girl,” Leah said, “How was practice?”

Mia didn’t trust herself to speak. She closed the door behind her, sagged into it, and let her backpack slide to the ground. The adrenaline withdrawal and the ache in her thighs made her want to sink into the floor.

Leah snapped her book shut. “What happened?” she asked, voice shifting instantly from snarky to concerned. “Did you fall? Did someone say something?”

Mia shook her head. “I’m fine, it’s—” She cut herself off. How do you even explain that one of your wet dreams had crossed the border into reality?

“Mia, come on,” Leah chided, examining her more closely. “Your hair is all wet, and your hands are trembling.”

Mia let out a shaky laugh. “I, um, had a weird day,” she managed to say. “Cheer practice was… intense.”

Leah didn’t blink. “Did they haze you or something?” She asked, scanning Mia for bruises or evidence of some physical humiliation.

“No, nothing like that. It was just practice. I’m okay.”

Leah eyed her for a long moment, then slowly picked up her book again. “If you say so.”

Exhausted from how the morning had gone, Mia threw herself onto her bed and lay face down, breathing in the familiar smell of the sheets. She was going to be sore next morning.

Leah peeked at her over the top of her textbook, ever curious. “So… Did you make any progress with Natalie?”

The mattress muffled Mia’s answer. She pulled her face free, hair plastered to her cheeks, and shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah. She… yeah.” The admission made her heart flutter and sink at the same time.

Leah’s eyes widened. “What? Babe, you need to give me the deets!”

Mia hugged her knees to her chest and looked at the wall. “It just happened,” she answered. “In the showers. She just walked in and—” She stopped, reluctant to recount how wild it had been, even to her best friend.

Leah’s eyes got even bigger. “Holy shit! Wait, so are you two an item now?”

“I don’t know,” Mia replied, burying her face in her hands. “She didn’t say. It’s not like we talked about it; everything happened so fast. She did tell me that I was hers, though. I’m not sure what that means exactly.”

Leah snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s so gay. But also kind of hot? I mean, if you’re into being property.”

“Ha, as if!” Mia laughed, but her flushing cheeks betrayed her.

Mia’s reaction was not lost on Leah. “Just be careful, okay? I know you like her, but people like Natalie… They don’t always mean what they say. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Leah’s concern frustrated Mia slightly. She wasn’t some kid anymore; she could take care of herself! But she knew in her heart that Leah meant well, so she swallowed the negativity.

“I won’t. I promise.”

---

The next morning, Mia’s phone woke her up with a text message.

hey, it’s natalie. wear a ponytail today, I want to see your face ❤️

Mia pressed her phone to her chest as a huge smile spread across her face. It hadn’t been a random fling! She got dressed and eagerly put her hair up into a tight black ponytail. Looking in the mirror, Mia thought that she looked a bit silly, but impressing Natalie was more important than a simple hairstyle change. She grabbed her bag and headed to the gym.

At practice, Natalie was already sprawled on the bleachers, phone out, laughing at something with a pair of senior girls. When Mia crossed over to the small group, their conversation dropped to a hush. Mia’s hands went clammy, but she kept her chin high. She was a cheerleader now, after all. Natalie beckoned her over with two fingers. “Hey Mouse, I like the hair,” she said, flicking the tip of Mia’s ponytail. “You look cute.”

The words hit like heroin. Mia tried to thank her, but it came out all choked and silly. Natalie just grinned, as if she found Mia’s awkwardness adorable. “Let’s see if you can keep up today,” she teased.

The morning’s thrill didn’t fade, even as Mia worked through routines until her lungs burned. She found herself sneaking glances at Natalie, watching the sharp lines of her jaw as she barked orders, the way her legs flexed on each landing. Once or twice their eyes met, and each time, the corner of Natalie’s mouth lifted in a tiny, private smile. Mia carried those moments like a secret under her skin.

After practice, Mia hit the showers, hoping that Natalie would join her again. She did not. After spending too long waiting in the hot water, she miserably dried and dressed herself, only to have her spirits lifted again as she caught sight of her crush leaving the locker room. She hurried to catch up to Natalie before she was gone.

“Hey!” Mia blurted, immediately regretting how loud she sounded. “Um. Are you… busy later?”

Natalie didn’t stop or look at her. “Why, you need more help stretching, Mouse?” Her tone was flirty, but she seemed distracted and kept walking. Mia nearly tripped over her own feet trying to keep up.

“I, um, thought maybe we could get coffee,” Mia managed. “If you want. Or lunch. Or whatever works.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Natalie answered lightly, finally looking at Mia. “But I’m super slammed today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Mia felt her stomach drop, but she forced a smile. “Yeah, totally! Next time.” The two senior girls from earlier caught up to Natalie just then, flanking her with effortless cool, and Mia dropped back, invisible again as the trio swept away down the hall.

---

As the week went by, Natalie’s texts had Mia checking her phone constantly, making sure that she didn’t miss a single one. The messages were never more than a sentence or two at a time, but Mia hung on every word that Natalie wrote her.

you looked so hot in that makeup ❤️

mouse, no more bras at cheer practice. not like you need them lol

can you grab me a matcha latte on your way to the gym?

Mia had tried to turn some of these texts into conversations, but Natalie would barely respond, at most giving a brief “lol” and then ignoring follow-up messages. It didn’t bother Mia too much though; she knew that upperclassmen didn’t have a lot of free time.

She began skipping study sessions with Leah to focus on cheerleading. The few times they crossed in the room, Leah stared at Mia’s new wardrobe of tiny cheer shorts, midriff tops, and thigh high socks, all more revealing than anything she’d ever worn. Mia pretended not to notice the disapproval in her friend’s gaze. Instead, she spent her evenings scrolling through makeup tutorials and trying to perfect the look that Natalie liked.

Mia’s grades, always a source of quiet pride, began a slow slide. She had tried to stay on top of things, but her mind was always elsewhere during class. Even her mother’s weekly check-in calls fell by the wayside, texts left on read, each unopened message another stone in her stomach. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the next time she could see Natalie.

Cheerleading had become a blur of performance and athletics, the routines growing harder with each session. Natalie presided over the squad with her usual energy, but she spent most of the practice close to Mia. Somehow the cheer captain found endless excuses to touch Mia in every exercise. Sometimes it was just her hand at Mia’s lower back, steering her toward the next drill. Other times it was much less subtle. If Mia lost her grip or wobbled, Natalie would steady her by sliding a palm from the back of her thigh up to the band of her skirt, sometimes squeezing, sometimes just letting her hand rest there a second too long. If they were far enough away from the other girls, Natalie would even whisper unspeakable things in Mia’s ear that would make her knees go weak and her cheeks turn red.

Outside of practice, however, things were very different. When Mia would run into Natalie on campus, it was as if she was a stranger. The cheer captain would barely acknowledge Mia, turning away in the dining hall even if they locked eyes. Only at practice did Natalie’s attention return, as if the outside world was a place where their relationship, if it was a relationship, didn’t or couldn’t exist.

Mia tried to rationalize it. Maybe Natalie was shy, or maybe she had a reputation to protect. A few times, she almost texted to ask what they were, but each time she chickened out, convincing herself it was better not to push it. The uncertainty churned under her skin, but she did anything Natalie wanted, no matter how small the request, hoping that eventually it would be enough.

After a week, Mia was an emotional mess. It was all so confusing. Did Natalie want her or not? Were they dating or not? She needed answers.

---

Then, one Saturday evening, her phone buzzed with a new text.

I need you. come over. now.

Mia’s heart skipped a beat; Natalie had never invited her anywhere before, let alone to her dorm. She read the words again, just in case she had hallucinated them, and then hastily wrote a response.

omw!!! ❤️

She stared at the screen, then deleted the heart. Then added it back. Her whole body vibrated with panic and anticipation. She rushed to her closet and yanked it open, pawing through her tiny stash of regular clothes, frustrated at how nerdy and childish they were. She needed to dress how Natalie liked. Eventually Mia decided on a skirt that barely covered her ass and a black crop top with no bra. As she donned the outfit, she looked at herself in the mirror.

She barely recognized herself. The girl in the mirror was not a Mouse at all, but a flash of stomach and thigh, hair yanked high and severe, with dark makeup that made her eyes look wide and mysterious. Anyone else would think she was a slut, but it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It only mattered what Natalie thought.

Mostly satisfied, Mia headed over to the senior dorm, trying not to run. Inside the other building, she ignored the stares she got from the upperclassmen she passed. Mia finally got to the door of Natalie’s room and came to an abrupt stop. She couldn’t mess this up. This was her only chance to show Natalie what she was worth.

She knocked.

The door opened. Natalie stood in front of her, completely naked, skin and hair damp from a shower. Mia froze, barely able to process the lines of muscle and curves and tanned skin, the way water droplets beaded on her collarbone, the nipples slick and pink and so incredibly real. She struggled to maintain her gaze on Natalie’s eyes, but it slipped, drawn like a magnet to the flawless curve of her breasts and the thighs that obscured the treasure between them.

“Uh…” Mia said, stuck in the doorway and unable to find the words.

“Cute outfit,” Natalie said, voice low and amused. She didn’t even try to hide her nakedness; she stood there glistening for a second, and then disappeared back into the room, her voice echoing from within.

“Come in, Mouse.”

Mia stepped inside. The dorm room was twice the size of Mia’s, its walls layered with sorority banners, glossy photos of parties, and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. There was only one bed; apparently Natalie didn’t have a roommate.

Natalie was already sprawled on her bed, typing on her phone. Mia hung by the door, not sure what to do. Without glancing up from her phone, Natalie asked, “Are you just here to stand around and stare, or are you going to get over here?”

Mia cringed. “Of course. Yes. Sorry.” She quickly scurried over to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Finally setting the phone aside, Natalie lounged back on her elbows with her knees drawn up, partially obscuring her body. “You’re not allowed to wear clothes in my room, understand?”

Mia’s skin prickled as a rush of blood filled her cheeks. Was Natalie joking? It didn’t sound like a joke. “Okay,” Mia’s voice cracked as she answered.

She hesitated, hands fluttering uncertainly over the hem of her skirt, before finally tugging it up and over her hips. She pulled off the tank top, exposing her chest with a shiver, and tried not to cover herself. Mia sat awkwardly in just her underwear, waiting for Natalie to laugh and tell her she was kidding.

Natalie looked at her expectantly. “Keep going.”

Breathless, Mia peeled away her panties, and her cheeks burned as she realized how slick the gusset had become, a transparent patch of shame glistening across the front. She balled the underwear in her fist, attempting to hide the evidence before Natalie noticed. She failed.

“I see you’ve been thinking about me,” Natalie smirked, and patted the middle of the mattress. “Come here.”

Mia crawled closer, the mattress dipping under her palms, until she was sitting right in front of Natalie, bare ass touching her heels. Natalie didn’t move; she just watched her with a feline focus.

“Mouse, have you ever been with a woman?”

Mia could barely get out an answer. “No.”

A satisfied smile spread across Natalie’s face. “Didn’t think so.”

As Mia’s face burned with embarrassment, Natalie continued. “It’s alright though; I love teaching newbies.”

Then she slowly let her knees fall open.

Natalie’s thighs spread like a blooming flower, and Mia gazed in awe at the sight before her. It was perfection. Her labia were waxed completely smooth, with a delicate, glistening clit peeking out as her legs widened further. Everything was pink and glistening in an intoxicating picture that drew Mia in like a moth to a flame. Framed by the soft curves of Natalie’s tanned thighs, the whole exquisite display left Mia sitting at the foot of the bed, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“Don’t be shy, Mouse.”

The words seemed to come from far away. Mia wordlessly crawled forward and knelt between Natalie’s knees, pulse pounding in her ears. She had no idea what to do. She wanted to ask, but her brain locked up and she just stared, hypnotized.

Apparently she took too long.

Natalie reached up and grabbed the back of Mia’s head, pulling her down into the soft, humid darkness, her fist locked on Mia’s ponytail like a leash. Mia barely had time to register the wet, tangy taste before Natalie’s hips surged up, grinding her clit against Mia’s mouth with a force that left no space for hesitation.

Mia struggled to orient herself. Every part of her face was pressed against Natalie’s pussy; her nose flattened, her lips mashed to the pink gash. Each breath only filled her lungs with the hot, wild scent of Natalie, leaving her lightheaded and desperate. Every time Mia tried to lift her head for more air, Natalie reeled her back in, her thighs clamping Mia’s ears. Escape was impossible.

“Don’t stop. Fucking lick me, Mouse.”

She tried her best to obey. Her tongue felt like a clumsy instrument, but she flattened it and licked Natalie’s vulva from the bottom up like a popsicle. In no time at all, her jaw began to ache from the unfamiliar motion. Natalie’s impatient grip bunched Mia’s hair into a fist, jerking her head in abrupt circles, grinding her nose and mouth into the soft, searing heat. Mia trembled with the effort to keep up; her tongue was already numb and exhausted, and she had no idea if she was doing it right. The only feedback was the way Natalie’s thighs tensed around her ears, sometimes rigid as steel, sometimes fluttering with a delicious shudder.

Then she heard Natalie give a disappointed sigh, and suddenly her thighs peeled away from Mia’s head. Bewildered and breathing heavily, Mia looked up at Natalie from between her legs. The older girl patted Mia’s cheek, smearing slickness across her chin in the process.

“Wow,” Natalie said, “you really are a virgin.”

The words stung, and Mia blinked, unsure what she was supposed to say. She wanted to apologize and beg for another chance, but Natalie was already moving. In one dizzying motion, Natalie grabbed Mia by the shoulders, flipped her onto her back, and climbed over her, straddling Mia’s head with both knees. Mia’s vision filled with the spread of Natalie’s thighs and pussy, somehow even more intimidating from this angle.

“Let’s see if you learn faster this way.”

Natalie shifted forward, and then settled the full weight of her pussy directly onto Mia’s face.

All at once the world was nothing but heat and slick pressure, her nose and lips buried in a suffocating darkness. Natalie’s thighs covered Mia’s ears, preventing her from hearing anything but the beat of her own heart. Each flex of muscle tightened the seal; each movement ground Mia’s tongue and lips flat to Natalie’s clit. There was no space for breathing, no time to think. Just the taste of sweat and arousal, the musky sweetness drowning her, the sound of her own desperate gasps interspersed with the low, approving moans from above when Natalie would lift her hips for a moment. Mia was just along for the ride. Hands were in her hair again, mashing her face against her hungry pussy until Mia could feel the wetness run down her chin and pool on her neck.

“Fuck yes,” Natalie moaned.

Natalie’s gasps of pleasure gave Mia new purpose as she finally found a rhythm in the aggressive grinding. She lost herself in it, and all she could do was obey the motion of Natalie’s hips and the grip of fingers in her hair. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe except when Natalie shifted her hips for a better angle, and then forced her back down, harder.

The ache in Mia’s jaw was nothing compared to the ache between her own legs, however. Eating out her crush, her queen, turned Mia on to the point that her own hips were lifting off the bed in search of some stimulation. She wanted to reach down, to grind against the mattress, to relieve the pressure even a little, but Natalie’s weight pinned her flat, her wrists trapped at her sides.

“That’s it, right there. Good girl.”

Mia felt her lips and chin beginning to numb, the skin tender from friction and the bottomless hunger of Natalie’s need. Sweat dripped from Mia’s hairline, running down her temples and into her eyes, stinging, but she kept at it, desperate to make Natalie happy. For a second, she lost her breath, panic fluttering in her chest, but then Natalie eased off and Mia inhaled, the taste of sex and girl saturating her every gasp. Her view was nothing but thigh and the pink, glistening lips that opened and closed around her tongue, as if trying to swallow her whole. She was drowning in it, wanted to drown. Her own cunt throbbed so badly she whimpered, and each time she tried to wriggle her hips, Natalie just pressed harder, mashing her into place.

It ended with a sudden, savage clench of Natalie’s thighs around her head. The cheer captain’s whole body trembled as she came, a violent, undulating rhythm that smothered Mia’s mouth and nose. Natalie’s hands held her in place until the shaking subsided. Her vision blurred at the edges; she was literally drowning in Natalie’s juices. Mia’s lungs burned, her face slippery with sweat and slick, and for a second she was sure she would black out. Then, at last, Natalie relaxed, exhaling a long, shuddering breath, and slumped forward onto the bed.

Mia lay pinned beneath her, breathing in short, ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. Her jaw and face were sore, but there was a strange, glowing satisfaction blooming in her chest, a secret pride that she’d given Natalie what she wanted.

Then, without warning, Natalie rolled to her side and drew Mia after her, pulling her up and into the curve of her body. Mia followed, too stunned to resist, and rested her head on Natalie’s breast. Her skin was warm, slick with sweat, and still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. For a minute, Mia lay there, afraid that any motion would shatter the spell. Then she felt Natalie’s arm wrap around her waist.

“That was pretty good for a virgin, Mouse,” Natalie said. The praise made Mia swoon, her face burning against the captain’s collarbone. She wanted to say something back, but all that came out was a giddy, helpless giggle.

Natalie shifted lazily, rolling Mia onto her back and looming above. “You’re a mess,” she said, smirking. Natalie bent close, her hand bracing on the bed beside Mia’s ear, and without warning, licked a long, slow stripe along Mia’s jaw. She licked Mia until most of the juices were replaced by Natalie’s saliva, and then pressed their mouths together in a messy and sloppy kiss.

Natalie’s teeth grazed Mia’s lower lip, nipping hard enough to sting. “Damn, I taste good,” she said, her voice low and proud. She grinned and pressed her mouth to Mia’s again, tongue invading, claiming her. She moaned softly into Natalie’s mouth, the taste and the pressure boiling up inside her until she thought she might cum just from kissing. She was so wet. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for friction, hoping Natalie would notice. But Natalie just shifted onto her side, arms encircling Mia as Natalie pulled her into a spooning position. The kiss trailed off into a slow, lazy nibble at Mia’s ear. Then Natalie barely bothered to open her eyes as she mumbled, “You’re so adorable,” and tucked her face into the back of Mia’s neck.

Mia lay rigid, tuned to every point of contact. Natalie’s nipple pressed against the curve of her shoulder; the captain’s thigh hooked over Mia’s own, pinning her in place, pubic bone mashed hard against her ass. Every time Mia breathed, she could feel Natalie’s abs flexing against her lower back, slick with sweat. Natalie’s breathing slowed, her chest rising deeper, slower, the slight shudder in her arms quieting as her body relaxed around Mia. The captain’s grip slackened by degrees, her hand slipping to rest loosely against Mia’s stomach, and her breaths came heavy against the nape of Mia’s neck. Within minutes, Natalie was sound asleep.

Trapped in Natalie’s embrace, Mia was still wide awake. Her body buzzed with unquenched arousal. Every time Mia tried to shift, the captain’s grip would reflexively tighten, pinning her in place. Mia’s thighs pressed together with a pulse that refused to die down. She couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d done, the taste of Natalie, the way her whole body had been used until there was nothing left to give.

She lay there for what felt like hours, as the room grew dark with the onset of night, and her throbbing clit and dripping wetness refused to lessen. She thought about reaching down, daring to touch herself with Natalie sleeping so close, but she couldn’t move her arms. She breathed, deep and aching, and counted each exhale as if it might slow her heart.

Eventually Mia’s own exhaustion won out, and she drifted into a fitful, confused sleep.

Mia barely remembered the walk back to her dorm. When she finally pushed open the door to her own room, Leah was already there, huddled cross-legged on her bed in sweatpants, poring over a psychology textbook. She looked up at her roommate’s entrance.

“Hey girl,” Leah said, “How was practice?”

Mia didn’t trust herself to speak. She closed the door behind her, sagged into it, and let her backpack slide to the ground. The adrenaline withdrawal and the ache in her thighs made her want to sink into the floor.

Leah snapped her book shut. “What happened?” she asked, voice shifting instantly from snarky to concerned. “Did you fall? Did someone say something?”

Mia shook her head. “I’m fine, it’s—” She cut herself off. How do you even explain that one of your wet dreams had crossed the border into reality?

“Mia, come on,” Leah chided, examining her more closely. “Your hair is all wet, and your hands are trembling.”

Mia let out a shaky laugh. “I, um, had a weird day,” she managed to say. “Cheer practice was… intense.”

Leah didn’t blink. “Did they haze you or something?” She asked, scanning Mia for bruises or evidence of some physical humiliation.

“No, nothing like that. It was just practice. I’m okay.”

Leah eyed her for a long moment, then slowly picked up her book again. “If you say so.”

Exhausted from how the morning had gone, Mia threw herself onto her bed and lay face down, breathing in the familiar smell of the sheets. She was going to be sore next morning.

Leah peeked at her over the top of her textbook, ever curious. “So… Did you make any progress with Natalie?”

The mattress muffled Mia’s answer. She pulled her face free, hair plastered to her cheeks, and shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah. She… yeah.” The admission made her heart flutter and sink at the same time.

Leah’s eyes widened. “What? Babe, you need to give me the deets!”

Mia hugged her knees to her chest and looked at the wall. “It just happened,” she answered. “In the showers. She just walked in and—” She stopped, reluctant to recount how wild it had been, even to her best friend.

Leah’s eyes got even bigger. “Holy shit! Wait, so are you two an item now?”

“I don’t know,” Mia replied, burying her face in her hands. “She didn’t say. It’s not like we talked about it; everything happened so fast. She did tell me that I was hers, though. I’m not sure what that means exactly.”

Leah snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s so gay. But also kind of hot? I mean, if you’re into being property.”

“Ha, as if!” Mia laughed, but her flushing cheeks betrayed her.

Mia’s reaction was not lost on Leah. “Just be careful, okay? I know you like her, but people like Natalie… They don’t always mean what they say. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Leah’s concern frustrated Mia slightly. She wasn’t some kid anymore; she could take care of herself! But she knew in her heart that Leah meant well, so she swallowed the negativity.

“I won’t. I promise.”

---

The next morning, Mia’s phone woke her up with a text message.

hey, it’s natalie. wear a ponytail today, I want to see your face ❤️

Mia pressed her phone to her chest as a huge smile spread across her face. It hadn’t been a random fling! She got dressed and eagerly put her hair up into a tight black ponytail. Looking in the mirror, Mia thought that she looked a bit silly, but impressing Natalie was more important than a simple hairstyle change. She grabbed her bag and headed to the gym.

At practice, Natalie was already sprawled on the bleachers, phone out, laughing at something with a pair of senior girls. When Mia crossed over to the small group, their conversation dropped to a hush. Mia’s hands went clammy, but she kept her chin high. She was a cheerleader now, after all. Natalie beckoned her over with two fingers. “Hey Mouse, I like the hair,” she said, flicking the tip of Mia’s ponytail. “You look cute.”

The words hit like heroin. Mia tried to thank her, but it came out all choked and silly. Natalie just grinned, as if she found Mia’s awkwardness adorable. “Let’s see if you can keep up today,” she teased.

The morning’s thrill didn’t fade, even as Mia worked through routines until her lungs burned. She found herself sneaking glances at Natalie, watching the sharp lines of her jaw as she barked orders, the way her legs flexed on each landing. Once or twice their eyes met, and each time, the corner of Natalie’s mouth lifted in a tiny, private smile. Mia carried those moments like a secret under her skin.

After practice, Mia hit the showers, hoping that Natalie would join her again. She did not. After spending too long waiting in the hot water, she miserably dried and dressed herself, only to have her spirits lifted again as she caught sight of her crush leaving the locker room. She hurried to catch up to Natalie before she was gone.

“Hey!” Mia blurted, immediately regretting how loud she sounded. “Um. Are you… busy later?”

Natalie didn’t stop or look at her. “Why, you need more help stretching, Mouse?” Her tone was flirty, but she seemed distracted and kept walking. Mia nearly tripped over her own feet trying to keep up.

“I, um, thought maybe we could get coffee,” Mia managed. “If you want. Or lunch. Or whatever works.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Natalie answered lightly, finally looking at Mia. “But I’m super slammed today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Mia felt her stomach drop, but she forced a smile. “Yeah, totally! Next time.” The two senior girls from earlier caught up to Natalie just then, flanking her with effortless cool, and Mia dropped back, invisible again as the trio swept away down the hall.

---

As the week went by, Natalie’s texts had Mia checking her phone constantly, making sure that she didn’t miss a single one. The messages were never more than a sentence or two at a time, but Mia hung on every word that Natalie wrote her.

you looked so hot in that makeup ❤️

mouse, no more bras at cheer practice. not like you need them lol

can you grab me a matcha latte on your way to the gym?

Mia had tried to turn some of these texts into conversations, but Natalie would barely respond, at most giving a brief “lol” and then ignoring follow-up messages. It didn’t bother Mia too much though; she knew that upperclassmen didn’t have a lot of free time.

She began skipping study sessions with Leah to focus on cheerleading. The few times they crossed in the room, Leah stared at Mia’s new wardrobe of tiny cheer shorts, midriff tops, and thigh high socks, all more revealing than anything she’d ever worn. Mia pretended not to notice the disapproval in her friend’s gaze. Instead, she spent her evenings scrolling through makeup tutorials and trying to perfect the look that Natalie liked.

Mia’s grades, always a source of quiet pride, began a slow slide. She had tried to stay on top of things, but her mind was always elsewhere during class. Even her mother’s weekly check-in calls fell by the wayside, texts left on read, each unopened message another stone in her stomach. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the next time she could see Natalie.

Cheerleading had become a blur of performance and athletics, the routines growing harder with each session. Natalie presided over the squad with her usual energy, but she spent most of the practice close to Mia. Somehow the cheer captain found endless excuses to touch Mia in every exercise. Sometimes it was just her hand at Mia’s lower back, steering her toward the next drill. Other times it was much less subtle. If Mia lost her grip or wobbled, Natalie would steady her by sliding a palm from the back of her thigh up to the band of her skirt, sometimes squeezing, sometimes just letting her hand rest there a second too long. If they were far enough away from the other girls, Natalie would even whisper unspeakable things in Mia’s ear that would make her knees go weak and her cheeks turn red.

Outside of practice, however, things were very different. When Mia would run into Natalie on campus, it was as if she was a stranger. The cheer captain would barely acknowledge Mia, turning away in the dining hall even if they locked eyes. Only at practice did Natalie’s attention return, as if the outside world was a place where their relationship, if it was a relationship, didn’t or couldn’t exist.

Mia tried to rationalize it. Maybe Natalie was shy, or maybe she had a reputation to protect. A few times, she almost texted to ask what they were, but each time she chickened out, convincing herself it was better not to push it. The uncertainty churned under her skin, but she did anything Natalie wanted, no matter how small the request, hoping that eventually it would be enough.

After a week, Mia was an emotional mess. It was all so confusing. Did Natalie want her or not? Were they dating or not? She needed answers.

---

Then, one Saturday evening, her phone buzzed with a new text.

I need you. come over. now.

Mia’s heart skipped a beat; Natalie had never invited her anywhere before, let alone to her dorm. She read the words again, just in case she had hallucinated them, and then hastily wrote a response.

omw!!! ❤️

She stared at the screen, then deleted the heart. Then added it back. Her whole body vibrated with panic and anticipation. She rushed to her closet and yanked it open, pawing through her tiny stash of regular clothes, frustrated at how nerdy and childish they were. She needed to dress how Natalie liked. Eventually Mia decided on a skirt that barely covered her ass and a black crop top with no bra. As she donned the outfit, she looked at herself in the mirror.

She barely recognized herself. The girl in the mirror was not a Mouse at all, but a flash of stomach and thigh, hair yanked high and severe, with dark makeup that made her eyes look wide and mysterious. Anyone else would think she was a slut, but it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It only mattered what Natalie thought.

Mostly satisfied, Mia headed over to the senior dorm, trying not to run. Inside the other building, she ignored the stares she got from the upperclassmen she passed. Mia finally got to the door of Natalie’s room and came to an abrupt stop. She couldn’t mess this up. This was her only chance to show Natalie what she was worth.

She knocked.

The door opened. Natalie stood in front of her, completely naked, skin and hair damp from a shower. Mia froze, barely able to process the lines of muscle and curves and tanned skin, the way water droplets beaded on her collarbone, the nipples slick and pink and so incredibly real. She struggled to maintain her gaze on Natalie’s eyes, but it slipped, drawn like a magnet to the flawless curve of her breasts and the thighs that obscured the treasure between them.

“Uh…” Mia said, stuck in the doorway and unable to find the words.

“Cute outfit,” Natalie said, voice low and amused. She didn’t even try to hide her nakedness; she stood there glistening for a second, and then disappeared back into the room, her voice echoing from within.

“Come in, Mouse.”

Mia stepped inside. The dorm room was twice the size of Mia’s, its walls layered with sorority banners, glossy photos of parties, and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. There was only one bed; apparently Natalie didn’t have a roommate.

Natalie was already sprawled on her bed, typing on her phone. Mia hung by the door, not sure what to do. Without glancing up from her phone, Natalie asked, “Are you just here to stand around and stare, or are you going to get over here?”

Mia cringed. “Of course. Yes. Sorry.” She quickly scurried over to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Finally setting the phone aside, Natalie lounged back on her elbows with her knees drawn up, partially obscuring her body. “You’re not allowed to wear clothes in my room, understand?”

Mia’s skin prickled as a rush of blood filled her cheeks. Was Natalie joking? It didn’t sound like a joke. “Okay,” Mia’s voice cracked as she answered.

She hesitated, hands fluttering uncertainly over the hem of her skirt, before finally tugging it up and over her hips. She pulled off the tank top, exposing her chest with a shiver, and tried not to cover herself. Mia sat awkwardly in just her underwear, waiting for Natalie to laugh and tell her she was kidding.

Natalie looked at her expectantly. “Keep going.”

Breathless, Mia peeled away her panties, and her cheeks burned as she realized how slick the gusset had become, a transparent patch of shame glistening across the front. She balled the underwear in her fist, attempting to hide the evidence before Natalie noticed. She failed.

“I see you’ve been thinking about me,” Natalie smirked, and patted the middle of the mattress. “Come here.”

Mia crawled closer, the mattress dipping under her palms, until she was sitting right in front of Natalie, bare ass touching her heels. Natalie didn’t move; she just watched her with a feline focus.

“Mouse, have you ever been with a woman?”

Mia could barely get out an answer. “No.”

A satisfied smile spread across Natalie’s face. “Didn’t think so.”

As Mia’s face burned with embarrassment, Natalie continued. “It’s alright though; I love teaching newbies.”

Then she slowly let her knees fall open.

Natalie’s thighs spread like a blooming flower, and Mia gazed in awe at the sight before her. It was perfection. Her labia were waxed completely smooth, with a delicate, glistening clit peeking out as her legs widened further. Everything was pink and glistening in an intoxicating picture that drew Mia in like a moth to a flame. Framed by the soft curves of Natalie’s tanned thighs, the whole exquisite display left Mia sitting at the foot of the bed, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“Don’t be shy, Mouse.”

The words seemed to come from far away. Mia wordlessly crawled forward and knelt between Natalie’s knees, pulse pounding in her ears. She had no idea what to do. She wanted to ask, but her brain locked up and she just stared, hypnotized.

Apparently she took too long.

Natalie reached up and grabbed the back of Mia’s head, pulling her down into the soft, humid darkness, her fist locked on Mia’s ponytail like a leash. Mia barely had time to register the wet, tangy taste before Natalie’s hips surged up, grinding her clit against Mia’s mouth with a force that left no space for hesitation.

Mia struggled to orient herself. Every part of her face was pressed against Natalie’s pussy; her nose flattened, her lips mashed to the pink gash. Each breath only filled her lungs with the hot, wild scent of Natalie, leaving her lightheaded and desperate. Every time Mia tried to lift her head for more air, Natalie reeled her back in, her thighs clamping Mia’s ears. Escape was impossible.

“Don’t stop. Fucking lick me, Mouse.”

She tried her best to obey. Her tongue felt like a clumsy instrument, but she flattened it and licked Natalie’s vulva from the bottom up like a popsicle. In no time at all, her jaw began to ache from the unfamiliar motion. Natalie’s impatient grip bunched Mia’s hair into a fist, jerking her head in abrupt circles, grinding her nose and mouth into the soft, searing heat. Mia trembled with the effort to keep up; her tongue was already numb and exhausted, and she had no idea if she was doing it right. The only feedback was the way Natalie’s thighs tensed around her ears, sometimes rigid as steel, sometimes fluttering with a delicious shudder.

Then she heard Natalie give a disappointed sigh, and suddenly her thighs peeled away from Mia’s head. Bewildered and breathing heavily, Mia looked up at Natalie from between her legs. The older girl patted Mia’s cheek, smearing slickness across her chin in the process.

“Wow,” Natalie said, “you really are a virgin.”

The words stung, and Mia blinked, unsure what she was supposed to say. She wanted to apologize and beg for another chance, but Natalie was already moving. In one dizzying motion, Natalie grabbed Mia by the shoulders, flipped her onto her back, and climbed over her, straddling Mia’s head with both knees. Mia’s vision filled with the spread of Natalie’s thighs and pussy, somehow even more intimidating from this angle.

“Let’s see if you learn faster this way.”

Natalie shifted forward, and then settled the full weight of her pussy directly onto Mia’s face.

All at once the world was nothing but heat and slick pressure, her nose and lips buried in a suffocating darkness. Natalie’s thighs covered Mia’s ears, preventing her from hearing anything but the beat of her own heart. Each flex of muscle tightened the seal; each movement ground Mia’s tongue and lips flat to Natalie’s clit. There was no space for breathing, no time to think. Just the taste of sweat and arousal, the musky sweetness drowning her, the sound of her own desperate gasps interspersed with the low, approving moans from above when Natalie would lift her hips for a moment. Mia was just along for the ride. Hands were in her hair again, mashing her face against her hungry pussy until Mia could feel the wetness run down her chin and pool on her neck.

“Fuck yes,” Natalie moaned.

Natalie’s gasps of pleasure gave Mia new purpose as she finally found a rhythm in the aggressive grinding. She lost herself in it, and all she could do was obey the motion of Natalie’s hips and the grip of fingers in her hair. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe except when Natalie shifted her hips for a better angle, and then forced her back down, harder.

The ache in Mia’s jaw was nothing compared to the ache between her own legs, however. Eating out her crush, her queen, turned Mia on to the point that her own hips were lifting off the bed in search of some stimulation. She wanted to reach down, to grind against the mattress, to relieve the pressure even a little, but Natalie’s weight pinned her flat, her wrists trapped at her sides.

“That’s it, right there. Good girl.”

Mia felt her lips and chin beginning to numb, the skin tender from friction and the bottomless hunger of Natalie’s need. Sweat dripped from Mia’s hairline, running down her temples and into her eyes, stinging, but she kept at it, desperate to make Natalie happy. For a second, she lost her breath, panic fluttering in her chest, but then Natalie eased off and Mia inhaled, the taste of sex and girl saturating her every gasp. Her view was nothing but thigh and the pink, glistening lips that opened and closed around her tongue, as if trying to swallow her whole. She was drowning in it, wanted to drown. Her own cunt throbbed so badly she whimpered, and each time she tried to wriggle her hips, Natalie just pressed harder, mashing her into place.

It ended with a sudden, savage clench of Natalie’s thighs around her head. The cheer captain’s whole body trembled as she came, a violent, undulating rhythm that smothered Mia’s mouth and nose. Natalie’s hands held her in place until the shaking subsided. Her vision blurred at the edges; she was literally drowning in Natalie’s juices. Mia’s lungs burned, her face slippery with sweat and slick, and for a second she was sure she would black out. Then, at last, Natalie relaxed, exhaling a long, shuddering breath, and slumped forward onto the bed.

Mia lay pinned beneath her, breathing in short, ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. Her jaw and face were sore, but there was a strange, glowing satisfaction blooming in her chest, a secret pride that she’d given Natalie what she wanted.

Then, without warning, Natalie rolled to her side and drew Mia after her, pulling her up and into the curve of her body. Mia followed, too stunned to resist, and rested her head on Natalie’s breast. Her skin was warm, slick with sweat, and still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. For a minute, Mia lay there, afraid that any motion would shatter the spell. Then she felt Natalie’s arm wrap around her waist.

“That was pretty good for a virgin, Mouse,” Natalie said. The praise made Mia swoon, her face burning against the captain’s collarbone. She wanted to say something back, but all that came out was a giddy, helpless giggle.

Natalie shifted lazily, rolling Mia onto her back and looming above. “You’re a mess,” she said, smirking. Natalie bent close, her hand bracing on the bed beside Mia’s ear, and without warning, licked a long, slow stripe along Mia’s jaw. She licked Mia until most of the juices were replaced by Natalie’s saliva, and then pressed their mouths together in a messy and sloppy kiss.

Natalie’s teeth grazed Mia’s lower lip, nipping hard enough to sting. “Damn, I taste good,” she said, her voice low and proud. She grinned and pressed her mouth to Mia’s again, tongue invading, claiming her. She moaned softly into Natalie’s mouth, the taste and the pressure boiling up inside her until she thought she might cum just from kissing. She was so wet. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for friction, hoping Natalie would notice. But Natalie just shifted onto her side, arms encircling Mia as Natalie pulled her into a spooning position. The kiss trailed off into a slow, lazy nibble at Mia’s ear. Then Natalie barely bothered to open her eyes as she mumbled, “You’re so adorable,” and tucked her face into the back of Mia’s neck.

Mia lay rigid, tuned to every point of contact. Natalie’s nipple pressed against the curve of her shoulder; the captain’s thigh hooked over Mia’s own, pinning her in place, pubic bone mashed hard against her ass. Every time Mia breathed, she could feel Natalie’s abs flexing against her lower back, slick with sweat. Natalie’s breathing slowed, her chest rising deeper, slower, the slight shudder in her arms quieting as her body relaxed around Mia. The captain’s grip slackened by degrees, her hand slipping to rest loosely against Mia’s stomach, and her breaths came heavy against the nape of Mia’s neck. Within minutes, Natalie was sound asleep.

Trapped in Natalie’s embrace, Mia was still wide awake. Her body buzzed with unquenched arousal. Every time Mia tried to shift, the captain’s grip would reflexively tighten, pinning her in place. Mia’s thighs pressed together with a pulse that refused to die down. She couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d done, the taste of Natalie, the way her whole body had been used until there was nothing left to give.

She lay there for what felt like hours, as the room grew dark with the onset of night, and her throbbing clit and dripping wetness refused to lessen. She thought about reaching down, daring to touch herself with Natalie sleeping so close, but she couldn’t move her arms. She breathed, deep and aching, and counted each exhale as if it might slow her heart.

Eventually Mia’s own exhaustion won out, and she drifted into a fitful, confused sleep.

Mia barely remembered the walk back to her dorm. When she finally pushed open the door to her own room, Leah was already there, huddled cross-legged on her bed in sweatpants, poring over a psychology textbook. She looked up at her roommate’s entrance.

“Hey girl,” Leah said, “How was practice?”

Mia didn’t trust herself to speak. She closed the door behind her, sagged into it, and let her backpack slide to the ground. The adrenaline withdrawal and the ache in her thighs made her want to sink into the floor.

Leah snapped her book shut. “What happened?” she asked, voice shifting instantly from snarky to concerned. “Did you fall? Did someone say something?”

Mia shook her head. “I’m fine, it’s—” She cut herself off. How do you even explain that one of your wet dreams had crossed the border into reality?

“Mia, come on,” Leah chided, examining her more closely. “Your hair is all wet, and your hands are trembling.”

Mia let out a shaky laugh. “I, um, had a weird day,” she managed to say. “Cheer practice was… intense.”

Leah didn’t blink. “Did they haze you or something?” She asked, scanning Mia for bruises or evidence of some physical humiliation.

“No, nothing like that. It was just practice. I’m okay.”

Leah eyed her for a long moment, then slowly picked up her book again. “If you say so.”

Exhausted from how the morning had gone, Mia threw herself onto her bed and lay face down, breathing in the familiar smell of the sheets. She was going to be sore next morning.

Leah peeked at her over the top of her textbook, ever curious. “So… Did you make any progress with Natalie?”

The mattress muffled Mia’s answer. She pulled her face free, hair plastered to her cheeks, and shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah. She… yeah.” The admission made her heart flutter and sink at the same time.

Leah’s eyes widened. “What? Babe, you need to give me the deets!”

Mia hugged her knees to her chest and looked at the wall. “It just happened,” she answered. “In the showers. She just walked in and—” She stopped, reluctant to recount how wild it had been, even to her best friend.

Leah’s eyes got even bigger. “Holy shit! Wait, so are you two an item now?”

“I don’t know,” Mia replied, burying her face in her hands. “She didn’t say. It’s not like we talked about it; everything happened so fast. She did tell me that I was hers, though. I’m not sure what that means exactly.”

Leah snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s so gay. But also kind of hot? I mean, if you’re into being property.”

“Ha, as if!” Mia laughed, but her flushing cheeks betrayed her.

Mia’s reaction was not lost on Leah. “Just be careful, okay? I know you like her, but people like Natalie… They don’t always mean what they say. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Leah’s concern frustrated Mia slightly. She wasn’t some kid anymore; she could take care of herself! But she knew in her heart that Leah meant well, so she swallowed the negativity.

“I won’t. I promise.”

---

The next morning, Mia’s phone woke her up with a text message.

hey, it’s natalie. wear a ponytail today, I want to see your face ❤️

Mia pressed her phone to her chest as a huge smile spread across her face. It hadn’t been a random fling! She got dressed and eagerly put her hair up into a tight black ponytail. Looking in the mirror, Mia thought that she looked a bit silly, but impressing Natalie was more important than a simple hairstyle change. She grabbed her bag and headed to the gym.

At practice, Natalie was already sprawled on the bleachers, phone out, laughing at something with a pair of senior girls. When Mia crossed over to the small group, their conversation dropped to a hush. Mia’s hands went clammy, but she kept her chin high. She was a cheerleader now, after all. Natalie beckoned her over with two fingers. “Hey Mouse, I like the hair,” she said, flicking the tip of Mia’s ponytail. “You look cute.”

The words hit like heroin. Mia tried to thank her, but it came out all choked and silly. Natalie just grinned, as if she found Mia’s awkwardness adorable. “Let’s see if you can keep up today,” she teased.

The morning’s thrill didn’t fade, even as Mia worked through routines until her lungs burned. She found herself sneaking glances at Natalie, watching the sharp lines of her jaw as she barked orders, the way her legs flexed on each landing. Once or twice their eyes met, and each time, the corner of Natalie’s mouth lifted in a tiny, private smile. Mia carried those moments like a secret under her skin.

After practice, Mia hit the showers, hoping that Natalie would join her again. She did not. After spending too long waiting in the hot water, she miserably dried and dressed herself, only to have her spirits lifted again as she caught sight of her crush leaving the locker room. She hurried to catch up to Natalie before she was gone.

“Hey!” Mia blurted, immediately regretting how loud she sounded. “Um. Are you… busy later?”

Natalie didn’t stop or look at her. “Why, you need more help stretching, Mouse?” Her tone was flirty, but she seemed distracted and kept walking. Mia nearly tripped over her own feet trying to keep up.

“I, um, thought maybe we could get coffee,” Mia managed. “If you want. Or lunch. Or whatever works.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Natalie answered lightly, finally looking at Mia. “But I’m super slammed today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Mia felt her stomach drop, but she forced a smile. “Yeah, totally! Next time.” The two senior girls from earlier caught up to Natalie just then, flanking her with effortless cool, and Mia dropped back, invisible again as the trio swept away down the hall.

---

As the week went by, Natalie’s texts had Mia checking her phone constantly, making sure that she didn’t miss a single one. The messages were never more than a sentence or two at a time, but Mia hung on every word that Natalie wrote her.

you looked so hot in that makeup ❤️

mouse, no more bras at cheer practice. not like you need them lol

can you grab me a matcha latte on your way to the gym?

Mia had tried to turn some of these texts into conversations, but Natalie would barely respond, at most giving a brief “lol” and then ignoring follow-up messages. It didn’t bother Mia too much though; she knew that upperclassmen didn’t have a lot of free time.

She began skipping study sessions with Leah to focus on cheerleading. The few times they crossed in the room, Leah stared at Mia’s new wardrobe of tiny cheer shorts, midriff tops, and thigh high socks, all more revealing than anything she’d ever worn. Mia pretended not to notice the disapproval in her friend’s gaze. Instead, she spent her evenings scrolling through makeup tutorials and trying to perfect the look that Natalie liked.

Mia’s grades, always a source of quiet pride, began a slow slide. She had tried to stay on top of things, but her mind was always elsewhere during class. Even her mother’s weekly check-in calls fell by the wayside, texts left on read, each unopened message another stone in her stomach. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the next time she could see Natalie.

Cheerleading had become a blur of performance and athletics, the routines growing harder with each session. Natalie presided over the squad with her usual energy, but she spent most of the practice close to Mia. Somehow the cheer captain found endless excuses to touch Mia in every exercise. Sometimes it was just her hand at Mia’s lower back, steering her toward the next drill. Other times it was much less subtle. If Mia lost her grip or wobbled, Natalie would steady her by sliding a palm from the back of her thigh up to the band of her skirt, sometimes squeezing, sometimes just letting her hand rest there a second too long. If they were far enough away from the other girls, Natalie would even whisper unspeakable things in Mia’s ear that would make her knees go weak and her cheeks turn red.

Outside of practice, however, things were very different. When Mia would run into Natalie on campus, it was as if she was a stranger. The cheer captain would barely acknowledge Mia, turning away in the dining hall even if they locked eyes. Only at practice did Natalie’s attention return, as if the outside world was a place where their relationship, if it was a relationship, didn’t or couldn’t exist.

Mia tried to rationalize it. Maybe Natalie was shy, or maybe she had a reputation to protect. A few times, she almost texted to ask what they were, but each time she chickened out, convincing herself it was better not to push it. The uncertainty churned under her skin, but she did anything Natalie wanted, no matter how small the request, hoping that eventually it would be enough.

After a week, Mia was an emotional mess. It was all so confusing. Did Natalie want her or not? Were they dating or not? She needed answers.

---

Then, one Saturday evening, her phone buzzed with a new text.

I need you. come over. now.

Mia’s heart skipped a beat; Natalie had never invited her anywhere before, let alone to her dorm. She read the words again, just in case she had hallucinated them, and then hastily wrote a response.

omw!!! ❤️

She stared at the screen, then deleted the heart. Then added it back. Her whole body vibrated with panic and anticipation. She rushed to her closet and yanked it open, pawing through her tiny stash of regular clothes, frustrated at how nerdy and childish they were. She needed to dress how Natalie liked. Eventually Mia decided on a skirt that barely covered her ass and a black crop top with no bra. As she donned the outfit, she looked at herself in the mirror.

She barely recognized herself. The girl in the mirror was not a Mouse at all, but a flash of stomach and thigh, hair yanked high and severe, with dark makeup that made her eyes look wide and mysterious. Anyone else would think she was a slut, but it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It only mattered what Natalie thought.

Mostly satisfied, Mia headed over to the senior dorm, trying not to run. Inside the other building, she ignored the stares she got from the upperclassmen she passed. Mia finally got to the door of Natalie’s room and came to an abrupt stop. She couldn’t mess this up. This was her only chance to show Natalie what she was worth.

She knocked.

The door opened. Natalie stood in front of her, completely naked, skin and hair damp from a shower. Mia froze, barely able to process the lines of muscle and curves and tanned skin, the way water droplets beaded on her collarbone, the nipples slick and pink and so incredibly real. She struggled to maintain her gaze on Natalie’s eyes, but it slipped, drawn like a magnet to the flawless curve of her breasts and the thighs that obscured the treasure between them.

“Uh…” Mia said, stuck in the doorway and unable to find the words.

“Cute outfit,” Natalie said, voice low and amused. She didn’t even try to hide her nakedness; she stood there glistening for a second, and then disappeared back into the room, her voice echoing from within.

“Come in, Mouse.”

Mia stepped inside. The dorm room was twice the size of Mia’s, its walls layered with sorority banners, glossy photos of parties, and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. There was only one bed; apparently Natalie didn’t have a roommate.

Natalie was already sprawled on her bed, typing on her phone. Mia hung by the door, not sure what to do. Without glancing up from her phone, Natalie asked, “Are you just here to stand around and stare, or are you going to get over here?”

Mia cringed. “Of course. Yes. Sorry.” She quickly scurried over to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Finally setting the phone aside, Natalie lounged back on her elbows with her knees drawn up, partially obscuring her body. “You’re not allowed to wear clothes in my room, understand?”

Mia’s skin prickled as a rush of blood filled her cheeks. Was Natalie joking? It didn’t sound like a joke. “Okay,” Mia’s voice cracked as she answered.

She hesitated, hands fluttering uncertainly over the hem of her skirt, before finally tugging it up and over her hips. She pulled off the tank top, exposing her chest with a shiver, and tried not to cover herself. Mia sat awkwardly in just her underwear, waiting for Natalie to laugh and tell her she was kidding.

Natalie looked at her expectantly. “Keep going.”

Breathless, Mia peeled away her panties, and her cheeks burned as she realized how slick the gusset had become, a transparent patch of shame glistening across the front. She balled the underwear in her fist, attempting to hide the evidence before Natalie noticed. She failed.

“I see you’ve been thinking about me,” Natalie smirked, and patted the middle of the mattress. “Come here.”

Mia crawled closer, the mattress dipping under her palms, until she was sitting right in front of Natalie, bare ass touching her heels. Natalie didn’t move; she just watched her with a feline focus.

“Mouse, have you ever been with a woman?”

Mia could barely get out an answer. “No.”

A satisfied smile spread across Natalie’s face. “Didn’t think so.”

As Mia’s face burned with embarrassment, Natalie continued. “It’s alright though; I love teaching newbies.”

Then she slowly let her knees fall open.

Natalie’s thighs spread like a blooming flower, and Mia gazed in awe at the sight before her. It was perfection. Her labia were waxed completely smooth, with a delicate, glistening clit peeking out as her legs widened further. Everything was pink and glistening in an intoxicating picture that drew Mia in like a moth to a flame. Framed by the soft curves of Natalie’s tanned thighs, the whole exquisite display left Mia sitting at the foot of the bed, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“Don’t be shy, Mouse.”

The words seemed to come from far away. Mia wordlessly crawled forward and knelt between Natalie’s knees, pulse pounding in her ears. She had no idea what to do. She wanted to ask, but her brain locked up and she just stared, hypnotized.

Apparently she took too long.

Natalie reached up and grabbed the back of Mia’s head, pulling her down into the soft, humid darkness, her fist locked on Mia’s ponytail like a leash. Mia barely had time to register the wet, tangy taste before Natalie’s hips surged up, grinding her clit against Mia’s mouth with a force that left no space for hesitation.

Mia struggled to orient herself. Every part of her face was pressed against Natalie’s pussy; her nose flattened, her lips mashed to the pink gash. Each breath only filled her lungs with the hot, wild scent of Natalie, leaving her lightheaded and desperate. Every time Mia tried to lift her head for more air, Natalie reeled her back in, her thighs clamping Mia’s ears. Escape was impossible.

“Don’t stop. Fucking lick me, Mouse.”

She tried her best to obey. Her tongue felt like a clumsy instrument, but she flattened it and licked Natalie’s vulva from the bottom up like a popsicle. In no time at all, her jaw began to ache from the unfamiliar motion. Natalie’s impatient grip bunched Mia’s hair into a fist, jerking her head in abrupt circles, grinding her nose and mouth into the soft, searing heat. Mia trembled with the effort to keep up; her tongue was already numb and exhausted, and she had no idea if she was doing it right. The only feedback was the way Natalie’s thighs tensed around her ears, sometimes rigid as steel, sometimes fluttering with a delicious shudder.

Then she heard Natalie give a disappointed sigh, and suddenly her thighs peeled away from Mia’s head. Bewildered and breathing heavily, Mia looked up at Natalie from between her legs. The older girl patted Mia’s cheek, smearing slickness across her chin in the process.

“Wow,” Natalie said, “you really are a virgin.”

The words stung, and Mia blinked, unsure what she was supposed to say. She wanted to apologize and beg for another chance, but Natalie was already moving. In one dizzying motion, Natalie grabbed Mia by the shoulders, flipped her onto her back, and climbed over her, straddling Mia’s head with both knees. Mia’s vision filled with the spread of Natalie’s thighs and pussy, somehow even more intimidating from this angle.

“Let’s see if you learn faster this way.”

Natalie shifted forward, and then settled the full weight of her pussy directly onto Mia’s face.

All at once the world was nothing but heat and slick pressure, her nose and lips buried in a suffocating darkness. Natalie’s thighs covered Mia’s ears, preventing her from hearing anything but the beat of her own heart. Each flex of muscle tightened the seal; each movement ground Mia’s tongue and lips flat to Natalie’s clit. There was no space for breathing, no time to think. Just the taste of sweat and arousal, the musky sweetness drowning her, the sound of her own desperate gasps interspersed with the low, approving moans from above when Natalie would lift her hips for a moment. Mia was just along for the ride. Hands were in her hair again, mashing her face against her hungry pussy until Mia could feel the wetness run down her chin and pool on her neck.

“Fuck yes,” Natalie moaned.

Natalie’s gasps of pleasure gave Mia new purpose as she finally found a rhythm in the aggressive grinding. She lost herself in it, and all she could do was obey the motion of Natalie’s hips and the grip of fingers in her hair. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe except when Natalie shifted her hips for a better angle, and then forced her back down, harder.

The ache in Mia’s jaw was nothing compared to the ache between her own legs, however. Eating out her crush, her queen, turned Mia on to the point that her own hips were lifting off the bed in search of some stimulation. She wanted to reach down, to grind against the mattress, to relieve the pressure even a little, but Natalie’s weight pinned her flat, her wrists trapped at her sides.

“That’s it, right there. Good girl.”

Mia felt her lips and chin beginning to numb, the skin tender from friction and the bottomless hunger of Natalie’s need. Sweat dripped from Mia’s hairline, running down her temples and into her eyes, stinging, but she kept at it, desperate to make Natalie happy. For a second, she lost her breath, panic fluttering in her chest, but then Natalie eased off and Mia inhaled, the taste of sex and girl saturating her every gasp. Her view was nothing but thigh and the pink, glistening lips that opened and closed around her tongue, as if trying to swallow her whole. She was drowning in it, wanted to drown. Her own cunt throbbed so badly she whimpered, and each time she tried to wriggle her hips, Natalie just pressed harder, mashing her into place.

It ended with a sudden, savage clench of Natalie’s thighs around her head. The cheer captain’s whole body trembled as she came, a violent, undulating rhythm that smothered Mia’s mouth and nose. Natalie’s hands held her in place until the shaking subsided. Her vision blurred at the edges; she was literally drowning in Natalie’s juices. Mia’s lungs burned, her face slippery with sweat and slick, and for a second she was sure she would black out. Then, at last, Natalie relaxed, exhaling a long, shuddering breath, and slumped forward onto the bed.

Mia lay pinned beneath her, breathing in short, ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. Her jaw and face were sore, but there was a strange, glowing satisfaction blooming in her chest, a secret pride that she’d given Natalie what she wanted.

Then, without warning, Natalie rolled to her side and drew Mia after her, pulling her up and into the curve of her body. Mia followed, too stunned to resist, and rested her head on Natalie’s breast. Her skin was warm, slick with sweat, and still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. For a minute, Mia lay there, afraid that any motion would shatter the spell. Then she felt Natalie’s arm wrap around her waist.

“That was pretty good for a virgin, Mouse,” Natalie said. The praise made Mia swoon, her face burning against the captain’s collarbone. She wanted to say something back, but all that came out was a giddy, helpless giggle.

Natalie shifted lazily, rolling Mia onto her back and looming above. “You’re a mess,” she said, smirking. Natalie bent close, her hand bracing on the bed beside Mia’s ear, and without warning, licked a long, slow stripe along Mia’s jaw. She licked Mia until most of the juices were replaced by Natalie’s saliva, and then pressed their mouths together in a messy and sloppy kiss.

Natalie’s teeth grazed Mia’s lower lip, nipping hard enough to sting. “Damn, I taste good,” she said, her voice low and proud. She grinned and pressed her mouth to Mia’s again, tongue invading, claiming her. She moaned softly into Natalie’s mouth, the taste and the pressure boiling up inside her until she thought she might cum just from kissing. She was so wet. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for friction, hoping Natalie would notice. But Natalie just shifted onto her side, arms encircling Mia as Natalie pulled her into a spooning position. The kiss trailed off into a slow, lazy nibble at Mia’s ear. Then Natalie barely bothered to open her eyes as she mumbled, “You’re so adorable,” and tucked her face into the back of Mia’s neck.

Mia lay rigid, tuned to every point of contact. Natalie’s nipple pressed against the curve of her shoulder; the captain’s thigh hooked over Mia’s own, pinning her in place, pubic bone mashed hard against her ass. Every time Mia breathed, she could feel Natalie’s abs flexing against her lower back, slick with sweat. Natalie’s breathing slowed, her chest rising deeper, slower, the slight shudder in her arms quieting as her body relaxed around Mia. The captain’s grip slackened by degrees, her hand slipping to rest loosely against Mia’s stomach, and her breaths came heavy against the nape of Mia’s neck. Within minutes, Natalie was sound asleep.

Trapped in Natalie’s embrace, Mia was still wide awake. Her body buzzed with unquenched arousal. Every time Mia tried to shift, the captain’s grip would reflexively tighten, pinning her in place. Mia’s thighs pressed together with a pulse that refused to die down. She couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d done, the taste of Natalie, the way her whole body had been used until there was nothing left to give.

She lay there for what felt like hours, as the room grew dark with the onset of night, and her throbbing clit and dripping wetness refused to lessen. She thought about reaching down, daring to touch herself with Natalie sleeping so close, but she couldn’t move her arms. She breathed, deep and aching, and counted each exhale as if it might slow her heart.

Eventually Mia’s own exhaustion won out, and she drifted into a fitful, confused sleep.

What am I doing? I don’t belong here.

Mia Chen pressed herself against the concrete wall of Ridgeview University’s gymnasium, pretending to be absorbed in her phone while the rest of the girls clustered in loud knots across the glossy hardwood. She tried to make herself invisible, but there was no hiding in this ridiculous cheerleader uniform. The spandex crop top clung to her torso and exposed the sad, bony dip beneath her sternum, and her flat chest made the blue and orange fabric look like a child’s toy costume. The skirt was worse; a pleated polyester that swished when she moved, drawing attention to her trembling legs. Mia had spent an hour that morning, alone in her dorm, tugging the waistband above and below her navel, measuring which position felt least mortifying. None of them helped. She looked like a stick bug with glasses and sneakers.

The real girls, the ones with ponytails and gleaming teeth, filled their uniforms out as if the fabric had been tailored just for them. Mia watched them in the wall of mirrors, how they laughed and spun, how they didn’t care that the uniform showed some skin when they stretched. One girl stood at the center of it all.

Natalie Thompson.

As a senior upperclassman and the captain of the cheer team, her voice cut through the hubbub, clear and confident. Even here, with a dozen bodies shifting and tumbling around her, Natalie didn’t blend. She bathed in attention with one hand on her hip, chatting with some of the other seniors. Her hair was so blonde it was almost hard to look at, slicked into a high ponytail that whipped with every step. She sported a perfect tan, and her red lips framed a perfect smile that disarmed everyone around her. She wore her uniform with the grace of a pageant queen who’d won the crown before the contest even started. Her crop top strained under the pressure of her full breasts, and the skirt rode just high enough to take Mia’s breath away.

Before her first day at Ridgeview, Mia had never had a crush, let alone a relationship. The boys in high school were just… background, like the trees or furniture. She’d gone to Homecoming with a boy from calculus, danced in a circle with other girls while he loitered near the punch bowl, then ghosted his texts. Her mother called it being a late bloomer. Mia called it being defective loser.

But the first time she had seen Natalie at the school’s pep rally, Mia felt like she had been struck by lightning. Her pulse spiked, her chest got all tight, and she couldn’t focus on anyone else for the whole event. Mia had spent the rest of orientation stalking Natalie’s Instagram, obsessing over every post, brainstorming the right way to approach her.

So she’d signed up for cheerleader tryouts, trusting that her high school gymnastics classes would get her through the day. She hadn’t told anyone about it, not even her roommate Leah; she just showed up at the posted time in the uniform they had handed out. That’s what all of this was for, really. Mia didn’t care much for cheerleading, and honestly hated being in the spotlight in a skimpy outfit, but she cared very much if Natalie noticed her.

“Okay, girls, huddle up!” Natalie clapped, the loud crack echoing across the gymnasium. The other hopefuls gravitated closer, forming a loose ring around her. At first Mia hung back, but then, reminding herself why she was here, she started pushing her way to the front of the group. She tried not to make eye contact with anyone as she wormed into the crowd. Natalie waited until the circle stilled, and then began walking around the inside of the circle, taking an assessment of each candidate as they stood at attention.

“First off,” Natalie said in a clear voice, “great turnout. Seriously, you girls look awesome.” There was a smattering of giggles in response, and Mia watched Natalie’s perfect mouth as it turned up in a grin. “Today is just a warm-up, so don’t stress. We’re here to see how you move, not to haze anyone. However.” Mia’s heart skipped a beat as the captain came to a stop in front of her. Natalie looked her up and down with an inscrutable expression.

“We don’t mess around on this cheer team. We train hard and cheer harder. If you’re not looking for a serious sport, now is your opportunity to leave.”

Mia swallowed. She tried to find a safe place for her eyes, but everywhere else was worse than just meeting Natalie’s gaze. So she did, for a fraction of a second, and her face burned from the attention.

“Any objections?” Natalie’s lips quirked in amusement, challenge, or both.

Mia shook her head, then realized the question was for everyone. The rest of the circle chorused a “No,” which dissolved into more giggles. Mia joined half a beat late, flushing at the sound of her own timid voice.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of awkward choreography and basic routines. Mia stumbled through counts, her face burning every time she missed a cue. She was certain that Natalie, orbiting among the girls with the ease of a planet among asteroids, had clocked every mistake. She couldn’t keep track of the steps or her heartbeat, which thudded so loud she was afraid it might be audible over the pop music blasting from the gym’s speakers.

After an hour, her calves were burning and her crop top was glued to her body by sweat. When the ordeal was mercifully over, Mia sat on the bleachers away from the other girls and waited for her rejection to be made official. So much for her intricate plan to get the girl of her dreams. Just when she was getting ready to leave, however, she heard the squeak of sneakers walking towards her, and looked up. Natalie was standing right in front of her. Mia’s mouth dried out. She adjusted her glasses, smearing sweat across the lens.

“It’s Mia, right?” Natalie said with a teasing smile. “Nice work out there!”

Mia’s face burned. Why had she even tried? “I— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have wasted your time…”

“What do you mean?” Natalie asked. “You made it! Welcome to the team!”

Mia blinked, not sure she’d heard right. “Wait, what?”

Natalie leaned in, and the smell of her clean sweat hit Mia like a drug. “You’re on the squad. But those glasses? Babe, you gotta lose them. You look like a church mouse peeking out from behind them.”

Mia cringed internally. “But I can’t see without them,” she stammered in a small voice.

Natalie made a face that was superficially sympathetic. “Contacts, Mouse. Or maybe your eyes will adjust. You want people to notice your face, not your prescription.” She winked, then straightened, the conversation apparently finished.

Mia clutched the edge of the bench and tried to imagine life without her glasses. Getting a prescription for contacts would take some time. But she couldn’t say no to Natalie, especially now that things were actually beginning to go well. “I’ll see what I can do,” she finally managed to answer.

“Good girl. See you on the field!” Natalie said. She patted Mia’s bare thigh, then strode away, her sneakers squeaking in time with the music still pulsing from the gym speakers.

Mia was left bewildered at what had just happened. She waited for the world to reassemble itself around her, but all she could do was stare at the patch of skin where Natalie’s hand had rested. A joke, probably. Still, it left a permanent blush on Mia’s cheeks. She slipped out of the gym early, cutting through the puddled sunlight of the quad, and tried to reconstruct the scene in her head. Natalie, of all people, touching her. A pat, not a slap. Good girl. The phrase repeated, then echoed in the blank spaces after. She nearly tripped twice on the way back to her dorm, knees still loose from exertion and brain refusing to let go of that moment.

---

The butterflies in her stomach lasted all the way back to her dorm room. But as soon as she opened the door, she was accosted by her roommate.

“Mia, where have you— What the hell are you wearing?”

“Hi Leah… sorry for not answering your texts.” Mia wasn’t sure how to tell her friend what she was up to. They had been friends since middle school, and due to some luck and similar interests, they had ended up at the same college. Leah was sitting at her desk, laptop and mouth open as she looked at Mia’s outfit.

“Is that a cheerleading skirt? Are you, like, in a cult now?” Leah’s tone was half-joking, half-concerned, but Mia’s skin itched with embarrassment all the same.

“It’s for tryouts,” Mia muttered. She hovered by the door, bag still on her shoulder, hoping Leah would lose interest. “I got in.”

For a second, Leah just stared. Then, “You’re kidding me.”

Mia shook her head and tried to busy herself by pulling off her sneakers. Leah snorted. “You hate sports.”

“I don’t hate sports,” Mia lied. The phrase sounded alien in her mouth. She tried to strip off the crop top as quickly as possible to get rid of the topic of conversation. “I just thought it’d be good to meet people.”

Leah couldn’t contain her laugh. “What? People suck!”

“Not… all of them.” Mia threw the uniform in the laundry hamper and hoped that would be the end of it. But Leah wouldn’t let it go.

“Not all of them? Wait, did you meet someone cool? Is my best friend gay for cheerleaders now? About time you came out of the closet.”

Mia tried to shrug off her teasing. She could feel Leah grinning at her as yanked open her dresser and pulled a frumpy sweater. “I’m not— It’s not like that,” she deflected.

Leah snorted, soft but not unkind. “You literally just joined a squad of hot girls in skirts and crop tops. Are you hearing yourself?” Mia’s face prickled. She tried to sound casual, like she found the whole thing as funny as Leah did. “I just thought it’d look good on applications. Leadership and stuff. It’s not because of… girls.” She said the last word with a stupid little shrug.

Leah closed her laptop, gaze sharpening. “Mia. Please. You’re blushing so hard you can see it from space.” She smirked. “So. Who is she?”

Mia tried to roll her eyes dismissively. “It’s not like that,” she said again, and even she didn’t buy it. “I’m not— I don’t, like, get crushes on girls.”

“Of course not,” Leah rolled her eyes. “Just one. Natalie Thompson, right?”

Mia froze. Was it that obvious? But how could she not know, when Mia had been stalking Natalie like a serial killer for the past month? Leah had even caught Mia scrolling through the captain’s feed one time; of course she couldn’t fool her best friend.

“Okay, you got me.”

“Jesus, Mia,” Leah said, mouth curling up sly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you crush on someone this hard. At least not enough to do something so drastic.”

Mia flopped backwards onto her bed, pulling a pillow onto her face to hide from the attention. Leah crossed the room and collapsed onto her own bed, legs crisscrossed, staring at Mia with that know-it-all look that made Mia want to throw things. “You should be careful, you know.”

“About what?” Mia said, muffled by the pillow.

“About Natalie.” Leah answered. “Haven’t you heard the tea about her? She basically rules Ridgeview; the last guy she dated left the school when they broke up. People say she’s either a major bitch, or just likes breaking hearts. Regardless, I don’t think she’s even bi.”

Mia pulled the pillow off her face. “Well she was nice to me.”

Leah shrugged. “Hey, I’m just giving you the word on the street.” She looked at Mia with mild concern. “Just… don’t let her eat you alive, okay?”

Mia scoffed miserably. “You don’t need to worry about me. It’s not like it’ll go anywhere; I’m just another loser on the team.”

---

Practice started the next morning, two hours before most students had even rolled out of bed for class. Mia woke up with her stomach already knotted with anxiety. Leaving her glasses on her bedside table, she brushed her teeth in the dorm bathroom. Mia could still see a few feet in front of her without her prescription, and she stared at her own foggy outline in the mirror. Mouse, she thought. Maybe Natalie was right; maybe that was why she hadn’t made any new friends this year. But today was her chance to change things!

When she got to the gym, the other girls clustered around the edges of the floor, stretching in pairs, doing lazy cartwheels to limber up. Mia heard the buzz of her phone in her gym bag; probably Leah texting to remind her not to do anything stupid. She ignored it and picked a stretch mat as far from the main huddle as possible. She reached for her toes and listened to the gossip threading through the air. None of it was about her of course; she always stayed under the social radar. She was so busy pretending to be invisible that she didn’t notice Natalie until a shadow fell across the mat.

“Mouse, you made it!”

Mia looked up at the upperclassman looming over with hands on her hips. Her eyes were drawn to the band of pale thigh showing between the hem of Natalie’s skirt and the elastic of her knee-high socks, and from Mia’s position on the floor, she could almost see a hint of panties peeking out between the pleats. Her whole face went hot.

“Morning,” Mia managed to respond, realizing too late that she was staring. She snapped her neck down and focused on her sneakers.

Natalie looked Mia over with a satisfied smile, and then moved behind her on the mat.

“You’re not stretching right,” Natalie said. Before Mia could react, Natalie’s hands were on her shoulders, pressing her gently forward. “You want to stretch from your hips, not your back. Like this.” Mia’s nose nearly touched her knees, the muscles in her thighs screaming, and then, when Mia tried to jerk upright, Natalie’s hands shifted, steadying her by the nape of the neck.

“Hold it for ten.” Her fingers splayed across Mia’s spine, the touch light but firm, pinning her in place.

Mia counted silently until Natalie finally released her grip. “You need to work your flexibility,” she said. “Come on, let’s do straddles. Face me.”

Mia hesitated, but Natalie was already lowering herself onto the mat, arranging her legs into a split that looked as effortless as breathing. There was no way Mia could get that wide without tearing a ligament, but she shuffled forward and mirrored the pose as best she could, spreading her legs against the mat until they burned. She felt like a wishbone being pulled apart, her thighs shaking with the effort.

“Reach for me.” Natalie leaned in, forearms flat on the floor, her torso sinking lower and lower until her chest nearly grazed the ground. Mia tried to follow, but her body refused to collapse so neatly. Natalie arched her back and gave Mia an exasperated expression.

“That’s not even close,” she said, more amused than annoyed. “You can do it, Mouse.”

Mia wanted to be invisible, but there was nowhere to hide, not with her knees splayed, skirt bunched high on her thighs, and Natalie watching her every move. She tried to lean lower, but her hips locked up with her forehead hovering a hopeless eight inches above the mat. Natalie didn’t wait for her to catch up. She reached forward and, with a single, decisive movement, cupped Mia’s head between both hands and drew it down, down, until her nose pressed against the rubbery mat and the world narrowed to two perfect thighs bracketing her field of view.

Mia’s calves spasmed, and she let out an involuntary whimper as the pain in her tendons became almost unbearable. Natalie’s skirt was inches away, and Mia tried not to think about how much she wanted Natalie to pull her just a little bit closer.

“You’re tighter than I thought,” Natalie murmured. “Breathe. Let it happen.” Mia inhaled. Her nostrils filled with the musky sweetness of Natalie, her sweat, her thighs, and maybe a hint of what was between them. Natalie’s fingers dug into her hair, refusing to let go.

“Good girl,” Natalie whispered. “You’re doing so well.”

There it was again. Good girl. The pain in her tendons was instantly replaced by a slippery heat. Mia felt her cotton panties start to ride up and cling to her, slick and damp, and she prayed no one else could see how obviously she was falling apart. After what felt like way too long, Natalie finally released her, and Mia’s head whipped back up. She blinked, trying to compose herself in front of Natalie, but the cheer captain was already standing back up.

“Alright girls, warm up is over; time for routines!” Natalie shouted to the group. She clapped her hands once, and the moment was over.

---

Having finished warmup, the actual practice began. As Natalie drilled them through different routines, Mia’s focus dissolved into static. Her soaked panties hugged her raw, and every time she moved, the damp cotton chafed her in a way that was both torture and a thrill. She tried to ignore it, biting her tongue and sprinting through each routine, but every slap of her sneaker on hardwood sent a shock up her spine. It was humiliating, and she couldn’t shake the thought that everyone could see how disgusting she was.

Somehow she made it through, however, and when Natalie finally told them to hit the showers, Mia breathed a sigh of relief. She ran for the locker room as soon as Natalie dismissed them. The other girls trailed behind, chattering and laughing, but Mia kept her head down and beelined for the showers. She quickly found a stall and yanked the curtain shut. Peeling off her uniform, she then wriggled out of her underwear, which reluctantly detached from her skin. Mia refused to look at her panties, and instead crammed them into the pocket of her gym bag.

She turned on the shower and stepped in. Mia hunched beneath the spray of hot water, letting it sluice the sweat and shame from her skin, but the spot between her legs stayed raw, throbbing, and insistent. She scrubbed at herself, fingers digging in, trying to scrub the ache away. It didn’t help. She shut her eyes and tried to think of anything but Natalie, but every time she did, the phantom sensation of those hands on her neck, her head, her thighs, crept back in.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a clattering sound as the shower curtain suddenly opened. Mia jumped, opened her eyes, and beheld Natalie stepping into the stall as if she belonged there. She was completely naked, and barely glanced at Mia before pulling the curtain closed behind her, sealing them in together.

“Mind if I join you? The other stalls are taken,” Natalie said casually. Water beaded and ran down her body in perfect lines, outlining muscle and curve. The tall senior squeezed past Mia’s petite body in the stall, with barely enough room for their feet to not overlap, and reached for the soap dispenser, her breasts sliding along Mia’s back as she moved.

“I— Uh, I guess not…” Mia could barely speak through her disbelief at what was happening. Natalie’s body pressed in, all bare skin and hot steam, and Mia’s brain rang blank with panic. She tried to make more room, but she was already pressed against the wall. Natalie’s thigh brushed hers, hip to hip, and for a second Mia wondered if she could simply pass away.

Natalie gave her an exasperated look. She slicked her hair back under the spray, eyes closed against the water. “Oh my god, you’re so shy. I’m not gonna bite, you know.”

Mia wanted to melt into the drain. “Sorry— I didn’t mean to— I’ll be quick.” She pressed herself to the farthest edge of the stall, trying to minimize the surface area of her body, heart thundering in her ears. The water ran over her scalp and down her face, and she kept her eyes fixed on the blurry pattern of blue tiles at her feet.

Natalie just laughed, low and unhurried. “Relax. I don’t care if you look.” She lathered her hands, rubbing the soap into a froth, and then, like it was nothing, began to wash her arms, her stomach, the soft undercurve of her breasts. “It’s not like you haven’t been looking at me all day.”

Mia flinched. She had been caught. Utterly embarrassed, she forced herself to meet Natalie’s gaze and think of a response.

“It’s alright though,” Natalie continued with a smug expression. “I know I’m hot.”

Mia couldn’t process it. Her brain swerved between shame and arousal, and it made her want to run and hide. “I don’t— I mean, I’m not—”

The captain moved closer, until she was only inches away from Mia’s face. “You know, Mouse, I picked you for a reason,” Natalie purred. She suddenly reached out, wrapping her arms around Mia’s hips, drawing her in. “You don’t have to act like you don’t want it. You’re so easy to read.”

Natalie pressed forward, her bare stomach sliding hot and sinuous over Mia’s ribs. The friction of their skin, all slick and soapy, made it impossible to pretend that this wasn’t exactly what was happening. Natalie was pinning her against the wall, her generous breasts pressing against Mia’s insignificant chest.

“I—” Mia’s words were strangled as Natalie’s thigh slipped between Mia’s legs, and the sensation almost made her knees buckle. The whole thing was happening so fast she couldn’t think. Natalie’s thigh dug in hard, right up against the aching spot that had haunted Mia through every step of practice, and she let out a helpless breath of pleasure.

One of Natalie’s hands moved to the back of her head, fingers weaving through Mia’s hair, guiding her chin up, forcing her to meet Natalie’s gaze. Her other hand slid up and wrapped around Mia’s throat. Mia felt the cool press of thumb and forefinger, the fluttering pulse trembling in her neck, and for a second she thought she might actually faint. Her mouth involuntarily opened, waiting to be filled.

Wet lips ghosted over hers, not quite a kiss but a threat, and Mia’s breath rattled in her lungs. Then Natalie’s mouth finally meet hers, but it wasn’t the soft, tender kiss Mia had dreamed of; it was hungry and aggressive and overwhelming. Natalie’s tongue forced its way past her lips, exploring every crevice of her mouth. Mia shivered, almost squeaking as Natalie’s hands moved again, cupping her ass, lifting her onto her toes.

Natalie’s grip was inescapable. Mia’s back pressed to the wall, her nipples drawn tight from the cold and the friction. She felt the ache between her legs start to sharpen into something overwhelming. Every time Natalie’s thigh flexed between her legs, Mia’s hips moved with it, grinding in tiny, involuntary pulses. Her legs buckled, and she almost lost her footing on the slippery tile, but Natalie’s grip around her waist kept her right there, locked to the length of Natalie’s thigh. Mia’s hands scrabbled for purchase on the tile behind her, but there was none; all she could do was clutch at Natalie herself, fingers digging into the slick, hard muscle of the other girl’s shoulders. Everything was heat and friction, the feverish grind of her bare pussy pressed to the hardness of Natalie’s leg, the hot water pounding down her spine, making her shiver in rhythm with every pulse between her legs. She tried to pull back, to hide her trembling, but Natalie just rocked her forward, harder, driving her up and down, making Mia ride her like some desperate little animal.

She could hear herself whimpering now, a high, pathetic sound that echoed in the steam-filled air. “That’s it,” She heard Natalie murmur, “You like that, don’t you?” Mia's head snapped back, jaw trembling, as she blinked away the water running in rivulets from her hair, her face a picture of need. She tried to articulate something, anything, but only a wet, broken sound emerged.

Natalie kissed her again, biting her lower lip hard. Through the sharp pain, Mia could feel her slickness, not hidden by the cotton of her underwear but smeared on Natalie’s thigh, a sticky, undeniable confession. Mia's whole body ached for release, but she was still trapped in place, unable to help herself. Natalie’s mouth hovered near Mia’s ear, breath warm and sweet. “You’re mine now,” she whispered. Then, in an instant, she released her grip and stepped away, leaving Mia gasping in the wake of Natalie’s overwhelming attention.

With a flick of her hair and her signature stride, Natalie exited the shower stall in a swirl of steam. The curtain stilled, trapping the moment in a shroud of silence. Mia sagged against the cold tile, heart pounding as she waited for her knees to stop shaking. The spray hammered against her skin, but she barely felt it through the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

In the muted solitude, reality settled in like a weight. Mia closed her eyes, grappling with the intoxicating mix of desire and loss. What had just happened? And what did it mean for her? As the water streamed down, she felt both exhilarated and utterly lost, and wondered if it had all just been a fantasy in her head.

The morning brought no warmth to Tessa’s observation cell, only the monotonous hum of air exchangers and the steady drip of condensation from metal pipes overhead. Tessa lay on her side in the oversized dog bed; her only comfort made slightly less comfortable by the constant wet spot that formed between her legs. The now-familiar sound of her breakfast being delivered snapped her out of fitful sleep, and she shifted, instinctively squeezing her thighs together, trying to quench the eternal fire within. The insides of her legs were so slick that her skin slipped against itself, an audible squelch and a filthy little tremor of pleasure racing up her spine.

She stretched as best she could with her limbs still encased in their latex sleeves. The techs had removed them several times now, along with the hood, for medical inspection and cleaning. The few minutes of sight and freedom of movement that she was given each week were the highlight of Tessa’s stay in ViTech’s lab, but also intensified the horror of her bondage when it inevitably returned.

She never knew exactly what time they came for her either, but it was always soon after breakfast. She propped herself up on her elbows and knees and shuffled over to the bowl.

Tessa bent down and eagerly lapped away at the contents. The techs only gave her one meal a day, so she was always hungry for more. The flavor was always the same: saline, musky, with an aftertaste of something almost sweet. She didn’t even hesitate now; her tongue plunged into the thick puddle, shoveling the clinging white goop into her mouth with quick, desperate laps and slurps. The first time she’d nearly vomited from the taste, but now, after weeks of nothing else, her body craved it. Each gulp brought relief to her gnawing hunger and a rush of tingling, low-grade euphoria that seemed to seep into the back of her skull. Instead of gagging, she found herself savoring the pervasive flavors of maleness.

She nosed the bowl across the floor, chasing the last smears of cum in the corners, unwilling to leave a single drop behind. The degradation still made her flush, but the animal hunger always won. By the time she’d finished, her nose and chin were covered in the stuff, a fact she only noticed when the bowl had been thoroughly cleaned. She licked her lips any other part of her face that she could reach with her tongue, consuming every last drop.

---

The accompanying arousal was in full force by the time she had finished.

She pressed her thighs together and rocked in place, trying to avoid stimulating herself. The heat flooded her body, tendrils of unbearable need snaking through her core, twitching her muscles and quickening her breath. She’d learned, painfully and repeatedly, not to chase the orgasm her body craved so desperately. The tail’s sensors would know, and the punishment would be swift and total. Tessa whimpered, the sound catching in the filter of her mask and echoing faintly in her ears. She tried to ignore the ache, tried to focus on anything else: the grid of the tiles beneath her knees, the rubbery friction of her sleeves as her elbows slid over each other, even the faint vibrations in the air ducts overhead. But it was pointless. Her body was nothing but a quivering, leaking vessel for the chemicals that Saren had forced into her.

Her resolve finally broke, and she ground her pussy against the dog bed’s edge in tiny, futile thrusts. Each time she did, a new shudder of slickness gushed from her and pooled beneath her hips, intensifying the heat in her belly instead of quenching it. The fur of the bedding was so matted with her fluids that it stuck to her thighs in strings when she tried to adjust her position. She couldn’t stop making the tiny, plaintive noises that had become her morning ritual, little mewling sounds that barely registered as human; pure, involuntary animal need.

She hated herself for performing like this, hated the bestial sounds she made, and the way her tongue rolled out of her mouth every time she whined. But more than anything, she hated the way her body had started to like it. The ache was always there, sometimes a dull thrum, sometimes a wild symphony, but never once did it let up. It was like her cunt was a mouth, always open, always drooling, always famished for more.

She was still mewing and riding the edge when the the door hissed open, and footsteps entered the room.

“Good morning Mittens, how’s my favorite pet doing today?” Tessa was caught off guard; Saren had never visited her cell before, just popped in and out during training exercises. She raised her head, blindly pointing it in his direction.

Her voice trembled. “I need to cum.”

Saren’s shoes clicked against the tile, sharp and unhurried. Tessa curled tighter, unable to stop the grinding of her hips, the uncontrollable rippling of her muscles as the drug’s grip throttled her higher. Her lips parted, tongue slick with remnants of her “meal,” and she shivered at the knowledge that he would see her like this: wrecked and drooling, mask smeared with the aftermath of her own submission.

“You need to cum, little kitten? So soon?” His normal disinterest struggled to hide his delight.

Tessa whimpered, her voice stretched tight as nylon. “I— I’ll do anything. Anything, please, just let me— just let me cum. Please.”

Saren’s steps circled behind her, closer now, the faint tang of aftershave and ozone mixing with her own obscene scent. She felt her tail twitch, the sensors no doubt lighting up on his console as her body reacted to his presence. She barely recognized herself. The creature on the floor was not Tessa Raine, but a thing. His thing; writhing, desperate, empty.

“Anything, hmm?” He knelt, the fabric of his suit whispering as he squatted to her level. A cold hand cupped her chin, thumb dipping into her mouth, caressing her lips and gums.

She tried to nod, a frantic, jerky motion that only made his grip tighten.

Tessa nuzzled into the coldness of Saren’s knuckles, unable to stifle the sly flicking of her tongue along his thumb. At this point, she craved whatever amount of human affection she could find in this hellhole.

Saren stood up. “I’m not convinced.”

Her need reached a shriek inside her skull. She lurched forward, whining, and tried to press her masked face against his hand as it left. Impossible, but the motion was all that kept her from dry heaving out another sob. She could smell him, sharp and antiseptic, a clean predator standing over her filth.

Saren had started turning away, already bored, when Tessa lost grip on whatever tiny thread of pride she’d been clinging to. “Please, please, you don’t understand,” she blurted; the words swelled up before she could bite them down, a desperate stutter of shame and pure chemical longing. “It hurts. Every second. I can’t think, I can’t cum— I need to cum I need to cum—”

He watched, arms folded, as she grovelled on the tile. She scrambled to him, raised herself up, and wrapped her arms around his leg, trying to prevent him from leaving.

She clung to his calf like a drowning animal, babbling inconsolably: “I’ll be good— please, don’t leave, don’t leave me like this, I can’t stand it—” The words came out in a frantic slurry, and she hated herself for every syllable, but the chemicals and the hunger and the weeks of conditioning left nothing else to her. Her face pressed into the fabric of his suit, and she barely noticed as her hips started moving again, grinding against the top of his leather shoe, desperate for whatever friction they could find. Her world narrowed to the mound of leather; she humped against it, shameless, the gesture automatic, obscene, and utterly without dignity.

Her body shuddered against the tension in her limbs, latex-sheathed elbows creaking from the effort of squeezing tighter, tighter, as if she could force the need out through sheer compression. She was sure she looked insane, humping her kidnapper's leg, drooling, edging herself, but her mind was only filled with her desperation.

“Down, Mittens!” Saren ordered sternly.

She dropped to the floor sobbing, flattening her body, but unable to stop her hips from hitching up and down. Weeks of obedience training had started to come to fruition. Saren bent down and attached a leash to her collar.

“You’re lucky I don’t punish you for that outrageous display. But I’m in a forgiving mood today. Now Heel; I want you to meet somebody.”

Stifling her tears and trying to compose herself, Tessa rolled back onto her elbows and knees and shuffled towards Saren, tail swinging heavily between her legs.

"That’s better; good girl!" he crooned mockingly as he tousled her faux ears with his free hand. Tessa's plug activated at the touch as her mask detected the petting motion. She writhed in embarrassment from the sudden stimulation, her cheeks burning beneath the mask, yet she persisted in crawling, trained to maintain no more than a meter's gap between Saren's deliberate steps and her own clumsy scuttle. The leash was barely needed, yet Saren wielded it with casual authority, guiding her through the tight corridors with an occasional tug, gentle as a memory but absolute in its implications.

---

What upset Tessa the most as she crawled down the hallways was the sound. Over a month of being dosed with the aphrodisiac serum in her food had changed her body in its heightened arousal, and now she constantly dripped everywhere she went, leaving a trail of puddles. The intermittent sound of her juices splattering on the ground as she moved was such a degrading reminder of her current state that she wanted to forget who she was, forget that she ever used to be a person.

Saren came to a stop, turning to regard her with a voice tinged with amusement. "You know Mittens, I have to say I'm rather impressed by your progress. Physically, I mean." He ran a gloved finger along the edge of her jaw, down the soft curve of her neck, then traced the valley between her breasts with a deliberate touch. "Your food, what we call N-82, has really done wonders. So much softer now; your whole body’s responding as designed. Bigger tits, fuller hips. Even your skin’s improved. I doubt you’d recognize yourself, if you could see.”

The words struck Tessa like a slap. She stared forward, refusing to react, but her mind fixated on the implication, on the subtle changes she could neither see nor prevent. She wanted to curse him, to spit venom, but her fear of punishment was more effective than any gag. But as Saren idly fondled her breasts, she was appalled to realize they did feel bigger than she remembered.

“From B’s to Double D’s. Amazing; no Stretch marks either.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate not to give Saren the show he so obviously expected, but the chill of exposure combined with the gentle roll of his gloved fingers sent her nipples aching for touch. Another drop of arousal dripped from between her thighs, and she hated, hated, HATED the helpless reflex that almost made her arch into his hand.

“Didn’t believe it, did you?” Saren murmured. “We designed N-82 for metabolic efficiency, but we couldn’t help adding certain physical side effects. Your body is rebuilding itself, accentuating the defining features of your sex beyond your normal genetic limits. I bet you didn’t find that out during your little investigation.” He squeezed the flesh above her hip, assessing her as one might a prize pig.

“We’ve had plenty of time to refine our various formulas, and I wanted you to introduce you to a previous test subject.” Tessa heard a click of a remote, and winced as a rush of light blinded her. It took almost a minute for her eyes to adjust after being blind for so long. “Another transparency mode feature; my R&D department thinks of everything, don’t they?”

Tessa forced her eyes to open slightly, and found herself looking into a cell similar to her own. Within it, an absurd mockery of a woman was curled up in a large dog bed like her own. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, and her face was mostly covered with another of ViTech’s masks. Saren pressed a few buttons on a control panel, and the wall slid away with a smooth hiss.

“Meet Luna.”

At the sound, Luna jerked upright, all tension and submission. Although she wore a mask like Tessa, her head cocked in the direction of her observers, and she took an audible sniff with her button nose. She gave a soft, breathy whine; a sound so canine it made Tessa’s blood run cold. The facsimile of a woman immediately rose, and Tessa immediately noticed that Luna had the same bindings as herself, tail and ears included, although hers were brown, floppy dog ears and a curled tail. She then scrambled over to where Saren was standing, and Tessa realized that Luna’s breasts were also unnaturally developed. Even so, Luna moved much more quickly than Tessa could have done in the same position, and upon arriving at her master’s feet, sat on her heels in the “Beg” pose that Tessa hated so much.

“You see how well-trained she is? She was a senior researcher before going through our program,” Saren explained, not to Luna but to Tessa, as though the subject couldn’t possibly be listening.

“Now, she’s our gold standard. Pet of the Month, so to speak. I believe you two knew each other in a past life, however. Her old name was Claire.” A strand of drool had started to connect Luna’s gaping mouth to the floor, slowly forming another puddle. Tessa felt sick; she suddenly recognized the woman before her, a distinct moon-shaped birthmark on her cheek confirming the connection.

She’d met Claire in a greasy downtown café, a smart, thin woman with glasses who had arranged their rendezvous with promises of destroying the corporate monolith known as ViTech. Claire had been one of the brains behind the company’s drug program, and upon meeting Tessa, had reported in hushed tones the first bits of evidence of Saren’s human trials. Tessa had bought her a coffee and scribbled details in her notebook, promising to protect her source. At the time, Claire had seemed intelligent, confident, and put together. No more.

“What did you do to her?” Tessa asked, eyes not leaving the Claire’s absurd form.

Saren’s smile sharpened. “We perfected the protocol. Her conditioning is irreversible. She experiences nothing but pleasure and obedience. The project calls for a social element, and I’d love for you to assist in the demonstration.”

“Go ahead,” Saren said. “She won’t bite… unless you ask her to.”

Tessa stared at the small, four legged creature before her. This version of Luna bore no resemblance to the person she had talked to a few months ago. Now she was all pillowy and hungry, stripped of language and dignity, and the way she eyed Tessa made her skin crawl.

“She’s not human anymore,” Tessa whispered.

“Neither are you,” Saren replied flatly. He gestured in Luna’s direction. “Go on.”

Tessa hesitated, her body a taut cord of shame and dread, but Saren’s stare left no room for delay. She shuffled forwards.

Luna was even smaller up close, her limbs delicate and pale beneath the latex sleeves. Her lips glistened, tongue lolling obscenely as she panted. The woman crawled to Tessa’s side, then froze, her dog-ears cocked askew, nose twitching with unmistakable curiosity. Tessa recoiled, instinctively bracing for a feral attack, but Luna only pressed closer, lips parted in anticipation, eyes flickering with a needy, animal light. The girl’s face hovered centimeters from Tessa’s, breath hot with the stench of ViTech’s cum-flavored nutrients. Tessa tried to rear back, but Saren’s leash left her no room to retreat.

“Claire… Claire, it’s me. Tessa. You remember, right?” The words came out in a hoarse hiss, barely audible. “We worked together. Grande macchiato, remember? One cream and three—”

Luna’s tongue flicked out, wet and eager, dragging along the length of Tessa’s jaw in a single, slow lick, cleaning off the remnants of Tessa’s breakfast. A moan vibrated up from deep in Luna’s chest, a note of pure, desperate need, and she shivered with pleasure at the contact. Tessa tried to turn her head, but Luna only followed, nuzzling against her lips and cheeks, licking and sniffing with frantic little whimpers, her saliva slicking the side of Tessa’s face.

Tessa had a flashback to the first time she'd ever kissed a girl: a sorority dare, cheap vodka, the briefest brush of lips on a stranger's cheek, laughter and shrill cheers ringing in her ears. She'd never thought herself actually attracted to women; she'd never even considered it. But this was not a kiss, not a gesture of affection or connection between equals. This was an animal in heat, trying to find an outlet for her need.

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut, voice trembling with a combination of revulsion and ever-present arousal. “Claire, stop, listen to me— hey, snap out of it—”

Luna’s arm-nubs trapped Tessa’s own with surprising strength. She pressed her enormous naked chest against Tessa’s, pushing her back until they both toppled into the plush mat that served as a bed. It reeked of sex. The shock of Luna’s smaller, softer body pinning her down was quickly overwhelmed by the sensation of Luna’s mouth latching onto the curve of her neck, sucking hungrily, then trailing lower. Tessa tried to buck her off, but Luna’s weight was perfectly distributed, her movements smooth and practiced. Luna’s tongue danced down Tessa’s skin, licking the sweat from her sternum, pausing to lap at her breasts with same frantic urgency as a puppy discovering a new toy. The tip of Luna’s tail wagged frantically with each pass of her tongue, the beads in her own plug flexing as she arched against the mattress.

“It’s me, fuck, Claire, please, you’re still in there. Listen to me, hey—” Tessa’s words broke on a gasp as Luna’s mouth closed on her nipple, rolling it between slick lips and teeth with an instinctive, desperate suckle. The sensation sent a spike of pleasure down to Tessa’s cunt, already throbbing and leaking, but she tried to focus through the fog, to anchor herself to the voice of her lost friend.

“Claire, you need to fight it. Don’t let them—”

A sharp, delighted noise bubbled from Luna’s throat; she sucked harder, her tongue pressing and nudging insistently. The pressure made Tessa’s back arch, her hips bucking involuntarily, the heat of her cunt smearing itself against Luna’s thigh. Tessa’s mind screamed in distress but her body revolted, her pussy clenching and leaking at the rough, animal attentions.

She fumbled for words, voice a raw rasp. “Claire, please— stop. You don’t have to—” Her plea dissolved into a shuddering gasp as Luna, emboldened by the scent and taste of sweat and serum, rotated one hundred and eighty degrees and slid down Tessa’s belly, tongue lapping up every residual trace of arousal as she went. She licked Tessa’s stomach clean, pressed her cheek flat to Tessa’s trembling thigh, tongue slopping at the rivulets of slick that dripped ceaselessly from her cunt.

Tessa tried to twist away, but Luna only followed, using her arms and superior leverage to pin Tessa’s hips to the bed. Luna’s legs were pinning Tessa’s arms, which positioned her cunt right above Tessa’s face. Luna’s clenching holes were already sopping wet even before she lowered herself over Tessa’s face. The black latex covered her thighs, but it but it did nothing to contain the sticky, glistening flood dribbling from her. Tessa’s protests choked off as Luna’s pussy pressed against her lips, the heat and scent of it overwhelming; drool and arousal pooling in thick, salty-sweet ropes that smeared across Tessa’s cheeks and chin. She tried to shake her head, but Luna only rode her harder, grinding her slit forward, desperate to bury Tessa’s mouth in the mess.

“Good girls,” Saren crooned from above, his words muffled by the pressure of Luna’s thighs clamping tight around Tessa’s head. “Show her how it’s done, Luna.”

Luna responded with a guttural whine, shoving herself even harder against Tessa’s mouth. The taste was familiar and sickeningly addictive, ViTech’s signature blend of need, shame, and the drug-spiked juices that coated every inch of her tongue. Luna’s cunt throbbed against Tessa’s face, the heat and wet engulfing her nose and lips so absolutely that her breathing came only in short, desperate bursts. Each time she gasped, the aroma of Luna’s arousal flooded her senses, tricking her body into responding, involuntary, eager.

The girl’s tongue was everywhere at once: up the inside of her thigh, flicking at the shuddering cleft of her pussy, circling her clit with wild, greedy laps that made Tessa’s breath catch in her chest. Tessa thrashed, mortified at how her body responded, but Luna only moaned louder, tail curling and wagging in delighted frenzy. For some reason, after enduring so much suffering, it felt incredible to be serviced by something even lower than herself.

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to block out the sensation. “Claire— fuck, Claire, please, this is not you. You have to listen to me—” She gasped for breath as Luna smeared her leaking cunt all over Tessa’s face again. She tried to push Luna off, but the girl had too much leverage. All she could do was squirm beneath the girl’s mouth as Luna buried her face where Tessa needed friction most and sucked, slurping at the overflow of ViTech’s own engineering.

“Look at that,” Saren drawled, voice syrupy with delight. “So eager, isn’t she? She used to be afraid of her own desires. Now she lives for them.” Tessa tried to tune him out, focusing only on the white ceiling, on the dull glare of the lights and the cool bite of the tile under her back, anything to fight the growing pressure in her clit and the electric tingling crawling up her spine.

She didn’t want it. The last real piece of herself, the one that could still say no, recoiled at the sick pleasure pulsing through her. She was not this, was never meant to be this, but Luna licked insistently, making desperate little sounds of gratitude every time Tessa’s hips shuddered, every time her cunt slicked the girl’s chin with another humiliating gush. Luna kept shifting, keeping Tessa’s legs bent and splayed, glued to the filthy mattress as Luna lapped at her like she’d die without the taste.

Tessa’s protests collapsed into animal gulps of air and involuntary whimpers. Luna’s tongue was relentless, drawing tight circles over Tessa’s engorged clit before licking desperately through the folds, slurping up every drop as though she’d never tasted anything sweeter. Luna’s tongue worked faster, frantic, her suction a perfect rhythm keyed to the trembling in Tessa’s thighs. Tessa’s hips bucked up, the pressure in her clit almost unbearable, her head lolling as she let out a raw, huffing moan. All her nerves screamed for the orgasm; she could feel it, bright and violent, building at the base of her spine, just a few more licks, just a little more. She wanted it so badly that her vision pulsed, the edges going hazy white. She clenched her jaw and then her entire body, poised to detonate—

And then her cunt seized, not with release, or with punishment, but with a cramping refusal. A memory, burned into her body as much as her mind: the cold shock of electricity, the tail plug’s punishment every time she had tried to climax during training. Even without any actual voltage, her body had learned the lesson. A flash of animal panic flooded her, and Tessa’s muscles flexed and strained in a peculiar way, short-circuiting her orgasm before it could fire. Her clit throbbed in a way that was almost painful, the pleasure spiraling up into a razor-edged plateau, then halting, suspended in a state of pure, clawing need that left her breathless and writhing.

She let out a broken, helpless sound, her entire body trembling in frustration. Luna didn’t stop, didn’t even slow; the tongue kept working, lapping and circling as though the only thing that mattered was keeping Tessa right there, on the edge, forever. Each fresh wave only made the pressure in her cunt worse, and her muscles seized, desperate for a climax that her own nerves refused to grant. She heard herself screaming, the sound so raw and animal that she barely recognized it as human, and as she did, a fresh rush of arousal splattered on Luna’s cheeks, which the girl immediately licked off with a whine of her own unsatiated need. Tessa barely heard Saren’s voice as it echoed off the cell walls.

“You can’t save her, Mittens. You can’t even save yourself.”

He pressed a button on his watch, and Tessa’s vision immediately disappeared into the familiar darkness. She gave up struggling and lay back, exhausted, tears burning her eyes. She didn’t resist when Luna finally ceased her assault, curled up between her legs, and rested her head on Tessa’s stomach. Saren watched them for several minutes, the satisfaction in his eyes as sharp as a scalpel.

He left them like that, frozen in their misery, for a long, long time.