Friend Survey is one of 22 stories collected in my e-book Overborne – Stories of Non-Consent, available at my creator site for only $3.99 USD. Purchases allow me to continue writing free new content like this. (Click here to view.)
Kayla had made a bet with her history professor that if she got breast implants, her friends wouldn’t sexually objectify her more than they had previously. The hard data of pre- and post-boob job surveys had proved her wrong: her new fake tits had thoroughly convinced her friends she was little more than a sex toy.
For losing the bet, Kayla was obliged to fuck all of her friends, unprotected, fulfilling all their sexual kinks, and then reattend the private hospital to have her tits made even larger and faker.
She was hysterical. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She begged her history professor to let her out of the bet. She couldn’t fuck *all* her friends. She couldn’t make her tits even *larger* – no one would ever see her as anything other than a fuck-cow if she did.
He let her cry and beg until she got round to desperately slobbering at his cock in an attempt to please him and earn his mercy. As she eagerly suckled on his erect dick, looking up at him with pleading eyes, he offered her a new deal.
“I’ll tell you what, Kayla,” he said, stroking her hair. “We’ll limit your obligation to only fucking *three* friends for now. But we’ll do another survey on each of those men, after you’re done with them. We’ll ask them whether you were wet and eager for them, whether you dressed nicely, whether you orgasmed from what they did to you, whether you were fun, whether you engaged with their fantasies, and whether you had a good attitude.”
“Mmm,” said Kayla, bobbing her head up and down with his cock in her mouth. She didn’t quite understand how this worked, but fucking three men instead of everyone she knew sounded good.
“But Kayla, for each man whose survey finds you less than fully satisfactory, you’re going to lose control of another part of who you are, you understand? First your ass, then your arousal, then your name.” He stroked her hair again. “Make me cum if you agree, Kayla.”
She did, and moments later he was shooting his cum down her throat as she swallowed eagerly.
Her first date was with Daniel, from her history class. She wore a nice blue knee-length dress and let him take her out to dinner. But when they got back to his house afterwards, she felt uncomfortable as she undressed, and when he felt her cunt it was dry. He sighed in disgust, and used lube on her, and raped her in his bed. It turned out that his specific fantasy was humiliating her, so he called her a slut and a whore as he fucked her, and when he was done he took photos of her nude with his cum dripping from her pussy, uploaded them to her Facebook page, and then made her walk home naked with sperm running down her legs.
“Oh, Kayla,” said her history professor, tutting sadly the next day. “Daniel says you weren’t wet, you were dressed like a person and not a whore, and you just lay there and let him use you rather than being a fun little fuckdoll. I’m afraid you fail this one. As of now, your ass is no longer yours to control.”
He passed her a leather briefcase. She opened it to find a selection of butt-plugs inside. Some were rubber, some were metal. Some were designed to vibrate, or give her electric shocks. Two were attached to long animal tails. Many were discrete, but others stuck out from her butt so far they would be visible through any clothes. They were all different sizes and some were so thick they made her wince.
“Every day you’ll get a text on your phone in the morning,” her professor said, “with a number. They correspond to the plug numbers. You’re to wear that plug all day, removing it only to use the toilet, clean your anus, or allow a man to fuck you. You’d better get used to having your ass plugged, Kayla.”
It only took three days of wearing the thick painful plug that zapped her every fifteen minutes for Kayla to realise she needed to get serious about these surveys.
Her next date was with Ben, who she’d known since childhood. She rang him in advance to ask him what his fantasies were. He said he wanted to go out to a club with a woman who acted so sluttily the club kicked her out, and then he wanted to fuck her in an alleyway and cum on her face.
Kayla knew she needed to be wet for Ben, so she tried masturbating to that fantasy, to get used to it. On the night of the date, she wore a tiny skirt, a tight top that left her underboob exposed, and no underwear. And, of course, her butt plug, which for that day was a vibrating one whose long exterior handle poked out visibly from beneath her skirt.
She edged repeatedly before meeting Ben, and he found her flushed, slutty and wet when they met. He kissed her, and took her into a busy nightclub.
“Start masturbating,” he told her. “Get on the dance floor and try and find a girl who’ll make out with you. Just be progressively more whorish till they take you outside.
Kayla felt humiliated, masturbating in public as she walked across the club floor. It required raising her skirt so everyone could see her pussy. At first no one noticed, but then men started turning to look at her.
Dancing while masturbating was even harder. She tried to look for a cute girl, but men kept grinding up against her, openly groping her tits and her ass. Many would take the opportunity to pump her butt plug in and out of her when they found its handle.
Eventually she found a cute, drunk, slutty brunette and started kissing her. Kayla had never kissed a girl before but she was eager to get a good survey report. The girl squeezed Kayla’s tits and stuck her tongue in Kayla’s mouth. Kayla undid her skirt and let it drop to the floor, and let the girl pull off her top, until she was nude.
Then suddenly there was a man behind her, pushing her up against the girl. Kayla’s lips were pressed against the girl so tight she could barely breathe. Her tits were crushed against the girl’s chest. The girl’s hand found Kayla’s pussy and began fingering her. Behind her, the man was kissing her neck, and pushing her butt plug hard into her anus.
Wailing, Kayla lost control, and found herself orgasming hard, crushed between her two molesters.
When they were done with her, Kayla was nude, on all fours, on the dance floor. Security found her and – regretfully – forced her to leave.
Outside, Ben found her, led her into an alleyway, pushed her to her knees, and stuck his cock into her mouth. Too dazed to resist, Kayla let it happen. He pulled out before cumming, to ejaculate into her hair, eyes, and across her face.
Ben guided Kayla’s hand back to her cunt. “Masturbate,” he told her. “You won’t think about the shame while you’re still horny.” Crying, she obeyed, and began desperately fingering her pussy to avoid thinking about what had just happened.
Ben smiled, and walked away, leaving her nude in an alleyway with no money, clothes or ID.
At least she would get a good survey report, Kayla thought. But that wasn’t what happened.
“Ben says your self-degradation was modest at best,” her professor told her. “He says he’s disappointed that you seemed like you might be able to convince yourself that this was just one night and it doesn’t mean you’re a total whore. And while you orgasmed in the club, he says you didn’t appear to cum again when he fucked your face. So I’m afraid you fail, Kayla.”
“No!” she protested. “That’s not fair!”
But her professor showed no mercy. “That’s your arousal you lose control of, Kayla.” And he gave her directions to a private clinic, where an implant was placed in her arm that would constantly slow-release an aphrodisiac into her bloodstream, keeping her aroused and stupid around the clock.
After that she found it hard to think straight. But she called the last of her three friends, Robert, to find out what he wanted from her.
“I have a big tit fetish,” he told her, “and I love what you’ve done to your breasts. In my fantasy, you’re lactating and your tits are full of milk. I whip your tits with a belt forty times, and on each and every stroke you orgasm as milk spurts from your nipples. Then I put clamps on your tits and fuck your pussy till I cum.”
Kayla cried when she heard what he wanted from her. But she tried her best. She rented an industrial milk pump and spent most of the next week with it sucking painfully on her tits. She slapped her breasts with her hands and with sticks as the machine worked, and whenever the pain was worst she masturbated to associate it with arousal. After five days, her breasts had started to express milk, and she found she was sometimes able to orgasm from pain.
But it wasn’t enough. When she knelt naked before Robert and allowed him to beat her breasts, she only orgasmed on ten out of the forty strokes, and she was crying so hard from the pain by the time Robert raped her pussy that she wasn’t a very enthusiastic partner. He ejaculated in her pussy, and then told her that she was worthless and that he would fail her on her survey.
And so she spent all that weekend with her history professor. There was a lot to do. She had lost control of her name, so she had to go down to the government shopfront and legally change it to “Bitch-Tits”, and then get all her identification and social media profiles changed to match. She had to book herself in to get her breasts made another size larger. She had to schedule new dates with Daniel, Ben and Robert, because her professor told her she would need to keep trying to fulfil their fantasies until they gave her a passing grade. And she had to make plans to fuck every other friend she had.
Dialling the first name in her phone – a friend in the sense that he was a friend of her father’s – she heard herself say, “Hi! You used to know me as Kayla, but my name is Bitch-Tits now. Yes, it’s okay, you can call me Bitch-Tits. I got a breast upgrade and now I look like a bimbo. Listen, I was wondering, have you ever wanted to fuck me? Because if you have, I’d really like to let you…”