alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Titcage, Part 35

(Buy the complete novel of Titcage now by clicking here!)

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine | Thirty | Thirty-One | Thirty-Two | Thirty-Three | Thirty-Four

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As the training went on, the girls learned the body language of submission.  Twatsucker taught the girls the animal, instinctual signs of the submission of women – baring and offering the wrists, baring and offering the neck.  The slut were taught how to take up less space with their body, and how to keep their eyes wide open for a ‘doe-eyed’ look.  They were shown how important it was to keep their body at a lower level than males in the room – if a male was standing, a good slut was naturally shorter.  If a male was sitting on a chair, a slut should kneel on the floor.  If a male was sitting on the floor, the slut should be lying prostrate. 

They learned a good slut remains still unless told to move.  A good slut lowers her eyes unless a male is present, at which time she should look him the eyes to signal her dependence on his favour.  They learned that a slut should smile even if she is embarrassed or in pain. 

The sluts learned to draw attention to their necks, their wrists and their tits with hand gestures.  And finally they learned that the greatest sign of submission is sexual arousal.  In less indoctrinated women, they learned, it was common to suggest sexual arousal through rouge, blush, lipstick and other makeup, simulating the flow of blood to the face.  But for Titcage sluts they could just use the real thing.  A good slut was always aroused in the presence of men.  Claire knew this to be true, because between the sensitivity in her tits, her aphrodisiac implant, the work cordial, and the constant sexual activities she was engaged in, she was almost always wet now even when men weren’t around.

One day in the second week, after work, Steph and Claire went by a pet shop to buy themselves leashes.  Kitten drove them there, but when it came time to get out of the car, Steph didn’t want to do the Fucktoy walk in public, in front of people they’d never met, so Claire and Kitten had to slap Steph a few times and pinch her clit before she would agree to do it.  Afterwards, Steph and Claire went into the shop, squeezing their tits and with their fingers in their cunts, and asked the surprised salesman to help them pick out leashes.

At home, their father was gratified to see his daughters leashed, and he told them they looked pretty on a leash like a dog while he was beating their breasts and then cumming on them.  Claire ate her dinner again from a dog bowl, but this time she pissed on it first.  She found that adding piss to the dog food made it taste better to her – more like her work cordial – and she ate it eagerly while masturbating.  Remembering she was supposed to hurt herself during her masturbations, when she felt herself nearing orgasm she started pinching her own clitoris viciously, and finally felt herself cumming on a wave of pain and degradation.

On the third day of training the girls were taught how to exercise in the mornings so as to stay fit and attractive.  An extra trainer was brought in – a brunette named Sexpet – to help them set up a week-long workout routine.

A good workout routine starts with stretches, and the girls were shown how to safely stretch all their muscles.  They were also taught to stretch their tits by pulling their nipples out until it hurt, and to stretch their pussy and anus muscles with large dildos before exercising.  The girls were encouraged to do their stretches nude, either in their front garden or in front of an open window or balcony facing the street.

The girls were then shown two ways of jogging around their block for exercise:

* The Nude Jog – For the nude jog, the slut strips completely naked, and then attaches small weights via clips to her nipples, clitoris and labia.  The motion of the jogging will bounce the weights up and down, pulling painfully on the slut’s sensitive areas.  For big titted sluts, this will add to the natural agony of their melons bouncing around as they move.  Sluts are encouraged to do one lap of their jogging course in The Slave posture, with their hands behind their back, and a second lap in the Fucktoy, squeezing their tits and masturbating as they jog.

* The Clothed Jog – For sluts who have a reasonable fear that jogging nude may get them arrested, or for variety, a clothed jog is also taught.  In the clothed jog, alternative degradations are found to make up for the humiliation lost due to not being nude.  In a clothed jog, the slut wears minimal clothing – either a bra and panties, a bikini swimsuit, or too-tight Lycra.  The material is soaked in liquid – possibly piss – before the run, to make it hug the slut’s curves better.  The slut fills her cunt and butt-crack with food for her next meal (usually breakfast) until her groin is stuffed full, and uses her panties or bikini bottom to hold it in place.  She fills her bra with small thumbtacks.  She then does two laps of her course in The Slave posture, pissing at some point during the run, and finishes the course in her front garden, where she extracts all the food (now soaked with sweat and piss) from her pussy and ass and eats it before going inside.

Jogging was complemented by a range of other degrading methods of exercise:

* Push ups – which were generally done with a dildo fixed to the floor, pushing into the girl’s twat.  The push ups raised and lowered the girl on the dildo, fucking it into her pussy.  Variants involved connecting the girl’s nipple and clit to the floor by elastic to increase the pain involved in lifting up, and placing a strip of short sharp spikes on the floor under the girl’s tits to increase the pain of lowering herself.

* Weight lifting – the girls were shown how to set up a simple pulley system from the ceiling with ropes, so that lifting a relatively light barbell would pull on ropes attached to their tits, but lowering it would pull on ropes attached to their clitoris or labia.

* Star jumps – these used, again, weights on the girl’s tits and cunt so that each jump sent a jolt of agonising pain through the bitch’s genitals and boobs. 

The morning after they learned the jogging routines, Kitten came around to join Claire and Steph for their first morning jog.  The three girls started out clothed, filling their cunts and ass-crack with dog food (the girls now ate basically nothing except dog food at home), and began their jog around the block, but after one lap the pain of the thumbtacks bouncing and poking against their super-sensitive boobs had left them in tears, but at the same time with their cunts sopping wet.  They stopped in the shadowy corner of a park, undressed, and licked each other’s cunts and asses clean, eagerly eating the sweaty cunt-and-ass flavoured dog food out of the crevices of each other’s genitals.  Afterwards they completed the run nude, in the Fucktoy position, squeezing their tits and fingering their pussies as they jogged.  People looked at them disapprovingly, mumbling ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ but the girls were horny and in pain and not thinking clearly so they barely noticed.

It was during the last week of training that Claire was first raped by a stranger.  She was walking home from work, lost in a fog of horniness and conditioning, when she was grabbed from behind and dragged into a nearby park.  It was the same park Claire had stopped to urinate and masturbate in so many times in recent weeks, and her assailant took her to the same sheltered corner Claire had used for her slutty activities.

Claire never even saw her attacker’s face.  She was pushed face down into the dirt – the same dirt she had pissed in so often – and her skirt and panties were ripped off.  She felt her attacker’s hard cock pushing into her pussy, and heard his soft grunt of delight as he discovered her soaking wet.  She lay there as her attacker held her by the hips and pumped hard, in and out of her twat, for long minutes before finally ejaculating inside her.  He wiped his dick clean on the back of Claire’s shirt, and then stumbled away from her, leaving her on all fours with semen dripping from her cunt.

Claire couldn’t quite process what had happened.  She had been raped, violently, in a public place.  She had been wet, though, so by law it wasn’t rape.  She had just been used, that was all.  She should be traumatised.  She should be outraged.  But it had felt good.  Worse, it had felt normal.  And she couldn’t deny that the worst part of all was that she hadn’t cum.

Shuddering, feeling simultaneously like she might cry and that she might moan with pleasure, she reached down to her cunt.  Her fingers probed into her pussy, getting wet with her assailant’s sperm.  And, slowly, she began to masturbate.  After all, she needed to cum.  Otherwise the whole experience had been a waste…

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You can buy the complete novel of Titcage – all 42 chapters plus bonus content! – for only $9.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store.  And even better, you’ll be supporting me to keep the lights on and keep creating new erotic content! (Click here to view in store.)

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Claire's training continues.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: The Etrebor Assignment, Part 4

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three

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Charlotte questioned her girls the next day about their sexual activities.

“Have either of you girls had sex yet?” she asked.  “It’s important that you tell me, because if you have then you need to fill out an extra form for Etrebor.”

“No,” said KC, with a disappointed sigh.  “They don’t like me.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes.  “You’re really very pretty, KC,” she said.  “I’m sure the boys *do* like you.”

“Oh, the *boys* like me,” said KC.  “They always want to see my tits or my panties.  But boys my age are so boring.  It’s the *men* who don’t like.  I had such a crush on Mr Eddison in school, but he said it would be inappropriate to have a sexual relationship with a student.  Mr Garron the principal said that too, AND Mr Von Elk, the janitor, even after I tried to kiss him.”

Charlotte offered mental thanks that her daughter’s teachers had been so surprisingly principled.

“You shouldn’t proposition older men, KC,” she said.  “It’s slutty.”

KC giggled.  “I *know*,” she said.  “That’s what makes it *fun*.”

Charlotte sighed, and turned to Sam.

“What about you, young lady?” she asked.

“How would Etrebor even *know* if I’d had sex?” she asked.

Charlotte was hoping the answer would just be, “No, I’m a virgin,” and the fact that it wasn’t made her heart sink.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but if you lie on a passport form and you get caught, there could be very serious consequences.  Have you had sex, or not?”

“No,” said Sam, “I have not had sex.”

But she didn’t make eye contact with her mother as she said it.

There wasn’t much Charlotte could do – and nor did she really want to make her daughter have to get a sexual partner to fill out the degrading sexual history form for her.  She decided to accept Sam at face value.  After all, as she said – how would Etrebor know?

And that left the matter of the passport photos.

“No!” said Sam, when she learned of this final requirement.  “I am *not* being photographed nude!”

Charlotte had to take a deep breath.  She wished that *she* had the luxury of throwing a tantrum, because she felt exactly the same way.  But there was no one for her to complain to.  

“It’s just how it is, Sam,” she explained, for the third time.  “Etrebor requires nude images for female passports.  If we want to visit the country, that’s just what we have to do.”

“I *don’t* want to visit the country!” Sam whined.

Charlotte exploded.  “Sam, this is hard enough for me.  Can you try just *not* being a bitch for five seconds and help me out here?  Or do we have to talk again about whether you appreciate me paying your bills, or whether you’d prefer to be homeless?”

That, blessedly, shut Sam up.

Actually getting the photos taken wasn’t too bad.  If they’d been in Etrebor they would have needed to go to a government office and strip in public, but seeing as they weren’t, they were able to hire a private photographer and have the photos taken in the comfort of their house.  They even got a woman to take the photos, which made it far less humiliating to have to strip and pose, and then cup their tits, spread their pussy lips, and bend to expose their anuses for the close-ups.  The final passport would display all these images – a traditional shot of their face, along with a full-body nude, and three studies of their boobs, cunts and asses.

It was what came next that Charlotte was dreading.

“Okay, girls,” she said, when they received the final photos from the photographer.  “Now you just have to get these verified.”

“What does that mean?” asked Sam.

“You have to find a man who knows you very well, who isn’t related to you by blood or marriage, and you have to get him to certify that the photos accurately depict you,” said Charlotte.

‘Like, sign off on them?  So he’ll *see* the photos?” asked Sam, already beginning to whine again.

“Well, actually, more than that,” said Charlotte, swallowing nervously.  “He has to be able to say they’re accurate – which means he has to compare them to the real thing.”

It took Sam a moment to understand.

“You want me to strip?  For someone I *know*?” she sputtered.

“Sam, don’t give me a hard time on this,” said Charlotte.  “I’m letting you choose the man.  Get one of your friends you trust.  But if you don’t do this, then so help me I’ll invite a colleague from my workplace to this house and strip you in front of *him*.  Am I clear?”

Sam ran out of the room in tears – but Charlotte could tell that she *had* been clear, and that Sam would do as she was told.

KC was no problem.  She invited a bespectacled friend from her schooldays called Calvin over, and happily stripped nude in front of him in the lounge room, and made him stare carefully at her buxom tits and her pink, wet pussy, before getting him to sign that her photos were accurate.

Charlotte questioned her about it afterwards.

“Aren’t you worried that he’ll… want more from you now?” she asked.

KC giggled.  “He’s just a *boy*,” she said.  “Not a *man*.  He won’t do anything.  The very thought of him making a move on me is funny.”

She thought for a bit and then added.  “But maybe kind of hot?  Like, if he was *forceful*.  If he didn’t give me a *choice*…”

Charlotte despaired of her slutty younger daughter.  She wondered where KC had gotten such an attitude from, and worried it was her.  After all, when she was younger, KC had seen her father and mother interacting, and had seen Charlotte forced to call Brian “Master”, and seen how Brian didn’t bother to ask when he wanted attention – or affection – from Charlotte.  And some of the outfits Brian had made her wear…

For Charlotte’s own part, she ended up stripping in front of James Haber, the Senior Partner of her firm.  She would rather have chosen almost anyone else.  She already faced disrespect at work based on her gender.  Letting her immediate superior closely inspect her tits and cunt was probably only going to further classify her as “stripper” instead of “professional” in his mind.  

But Zach had told James that Charlotte would need to get nude photos for her passport.  And then James had telephoned her to volunteer to inspect her.  And she knew that if she said no, he would take it as an insult.  *And* he would then ask her who she *was* stripping for, and she would have to explain and defend that choice.  And if he got sufficiently pissed off, he could still pull her out of the Etrebor assignment entirely and leave Zach to take all the glory.

So she reluctantly found herself taking off her blouse and skirt in his office one morning, and then her underwear, and then spreading her pussy lips so that her boss could peer at her cute pink clitoris.

It was twice in one week that she found herself stripping for a man she disliked – first Brian, and now James.  She wondered briefly if this was her fault – if she was making bad choices which had led to this.  But no – going to Etrebor was good for her career, and therefore doing this – letting her boss stare at her naked tits – was also good for her career.

James made no comment on her body – just stared at it, for long minutes, and then signed the paperwork attesting that the photos were a true and correct record of her intimate assets.

When she got home, though, she ran face first into a crisis.  Sam was in tears, sobbing loudly in the lounge room.

“Sam, honey, what’s the matter?” she asked.

Sam didn’t want to talk at first, but Charlotte went close, and wrapped her arms around her buxom goth daughter, and stroked her dyed-black hair, until Sam was ready to talk.

“It was Ashton,” she said.  “I thought he was my friend.”

“What happened?” asked Charlotte.

“I asked him to sign my paperwork,” she said.  “And I showed him the photos, and then I undressed for him, and then…”

Charlotte felt her heart sink.

“… and then he came over to me and put his hands on me, and started to kiss me, and I tried to push him away, but he said I was cockteasing him.  And then he grabbed my hair and pushed me down, and he unzipped his pants and took out his cock, and he… he made me suck it.  And then after a while he pushed me on the couch and he… he… he raped me.”

“That bastard,” said Charlotte.  “That asshole.  I’m sorry, honey.  I’m so sorry.”

“He called me a slut,” wept Sam.  “And he spat on me.  And that’s not even the worst part.”

Charlotte was not sure she wanted to hear the worst part.  She kept stroking Sam’s hair and waited.

“I… I *orgasmed*,” wailed Sam.  “I orgasmed from *rape*.  I hated it, I hated him, but I… I came.  Before he did.  What kind of slut does that?”

Charlotte thought about how she had orgasmed just the other day, from her ex-husband’s cock in her ass.

“Oh, honey,” she said.  “You can’t help it.  It’s… it’s normal for women to cum from rape.  You’re not in control of it.”

“Really?” asked Sam.

Charlotte wasn’t sure that telling her daughter that women naturally orgasmed from rape was the most feminist thing she had ever done.  But she couldn’t think of something else to say that wouldn’t insult her as well – even if Sam would never know.

“Yes,” said Charlotte.  “Really.  And isn’t it better than *not* cumming?  Wouldn’t it be more traumatic if you didn’t enjoy it at all?”

“He came in my… in my pussy,” said Sam.

“It’s a good thing you’re on birth control then,” said Charlotte.  And she reflected that Sam wouldn’t be, soon.  Etrebor wouldn’t allow it.

“Should we go to the police?” asked Sam.

“Well, we could,” said Charlotte.  “That rapist monster certainly deserves to go to jail.  But… honey, now that you’ve had sex, you need to fill out the sexual history paperwork.  And that means you need to get him to rate your sexual performance.”

“No,” protested Sam.  “No!”

“Yes, honey,” said Charlotte.  “You need to go ask him if your mouth and cunt were acceptable.  And you need him to say that they were.  So I want you to go back to him, and thank him for fucking you, and tell him that it was very fun.  Can you do that for me?”

Sam’s weeping intensified.

“I know you don’t want to,” said Charlotte.  “But it’s just words, okay?  You just need to get him to sign the paper, and then you don’t ever need to see him again.”

Charlotte felt a twinge of guilt about asking her daughter to thank her rapist – but she couldn’t afford for Sam to fuck this up now.  

“Just say thank you for the sex, and that you’re sorry you were a cocktease,” said Charlotte.  “It’s not hard.  It’s not like it was *really* rape.  After all, you did cum.  You must have wanted it.”

Sam wept more, and Charlotte stroked her hair. 

And Charlotte knew that Sam would do as she was told.

And part of the reason Sam would do that is that she thought it was the *final* degradation of this process.

She might not have done it if she knew what Charlotte knew – that their nude photos had to also be copied to “all their owners, past and present” – which meant husbands and fathers.  Charlotte’s own father had passed away, but she was required to send the images to both Brian and Zach.

She didn’t like sending Brian images of his own daughters naked.  She similarly didn’t like sending them to Zach, her new “husband” and therefore legal guardian of the girls.  She had a very clear mental image of Zach masturbating over the naked tits and spread pussies of his new “daughters” – and she wasn’t entirely convinced that Brian wouldn’t do the same.

But the girls would never know.  And this was all worth it, to get to Etrebor – and get the job recognition that she so richly deserved.

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You can get the original novel The Etrebor Exchange for only $7.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store right now!  Don’t miss out!  (Click here to view.)

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Charlotte and her daughters need to be photographed nude for their new Etreborian passports.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Brian’s Parenting

Brian had some trouble getting his grown daughters, 18 and 19, to do as they were told after his divorce.  They lounged around the house, not working, not studying, not doing chores.  They were naturally pretty, but they didn’t even do him the courtesy of dressing attractively.

He took a rather unique parenting approach.  He brought home a new girlfriend, Lindsey, barely older than his daughters.  Lindsey was unabashedly a slut.  She walked around the house nude, often with Brian’s cum still wet on her skin.  She masturbated unashamedly in the lounge.  And, on Brian’s orders, she set out to wreck the girls’ social life.

She would always be nude and dildoing her pussy in the public areas when the girls brought friends over.  She would turn up to parties the girls attended and let the girls’ friends gangbang her.  She would seduce the girls’ boyfriends.

When they begged Brian to make it stop, he set some fairly simple conditions, and if they followed them, they could have their social lives back, and Lindsey would behave herself in company.  The girls simply had to go naked around the house, do their chores, look for jobs… and turn up for “family togetherness night” every Sunday, where after dinner they would let Lindsey lick their pussies until they orgasmed, and then return the favour, all while Brian watched.

They were outraged; but a social life is important to a teenager, so in the end, they agreed.

The next Sunday, as Brian watched his naked teen daughters blushingly lez off with his girlfriend, he reflected on the importance of appropriate role models for young women, and congratulated himself on finding such a good one…

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This is just one of 28 stories collected in my e-book Sisters – Stories of Sisterly Lust and Sibling Rivalry, available for only $4.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store! (Click here to view.)

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Brian had some trouble getting his grown daughters, 18 and 19, to do as they were told...

alltheseroadworks News, Products, Story Collection

ATR Presents: Tomboy

Corrective therapy – to turn a brat into a bimbo!

Tori Hamlin is back with a HUGE new novel of bimbo transformation and hypno-incest!

(Get your copy of Tomboy in the ATR store now!)

I’m going to be honest – I should have told Tori to break this up into two, or even three, separate books. It’s 190,000 words long. That’s longer than any of the individual Lord of the Rings books, longer than any novel by Charles Dickens or Jane Austen. It’s an entire 50,000 words longer than The Da Vinci Code.

And it can be yours for the insanely low price of only $9.99 USD.

But putting aside the sheer girth of this release, why is it a must buy?

Because it’s exactly the kind of brat-taming, bimbo transformation, hypno-erotic daddy-daughter incest tale that All These Roadworks readers love.

This is a red-hot tale of bimbofication that’s going to hit all your kinks – and at the point where most books would finish, it just keeps going deeper and darker.

If you’ve loved All These Roadworks stories like The Cheerleader Conversion or Tuning Chloe (link), then you absolutely must read Tomboy.

===

Blurb:

Robin is a problem.

18 years old, with small tits, mannish clothes, unattractive hair, and a bitchy attitude.  She’s got a grudge against everyone and everything, her dad Eric doesn’t know what to do with her.

And when Robin gets arrested for spray-painting a crude image of a cock on a police car, he’s finally had enough.

The solution is Dr Belle’s Advanced Corrective Therapy – a specialised program for turning bratty, dykey tomboys into beautiful, big-titted submissive bimbos.

Robin resists at first – but soon she’s under the thrall of Dr Belle’s hypnotic suggestions.  And under that control, she begins to transform into a different – better – kind of girl.

Flirting.  Using makeup.  Wearing pink.  Giggling.  And – much to her humiliation and horror – developing increasingly powerful sexual fantasies about her own father and brother.

She dreams of big, attractive bimbo tits.  She watches bimbo porn.  She begs her father to physically discipline her.  She masturbates at school.   And she yearns for men to make her decisions for her…

Before long Robin is no longer a tomboy – but something much sexier and more obedient…

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Tomboy is a huge new novel of bimbo transformation and hypno-incest from hit author Tori Hamlin.

This book contains themes of MF and FF sex, bimbofication, humiliation, patriarchy and incest.

As always, my kinks are not my politics. Please enjoy these stories of gender degradation while practicing respect, safety and positive enthusiastic consent in real life.

Upon purchase, the collection will be delivered to you as digital goods via email.  A single purchase gives access to all file formats indicated above.

(Get Tomboy in the ATR store now!)

Corrective therapy - to turn a brat into a bimbo! Tori Hamlin is back with a HUGE new novel of bimbo transformation and hypno-incest! Get your copy in the ATR store now!

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Titcage, Part 33

(Buy the complete novel of Titcage now by clicking here!)

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine | Thirty | Thirty-One | Thirty-Two

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That week Michael told Claire that she would be being taken out of the office for a week for a special project, and so would Slutkitten and Cuntcandy (Claire’s sister Steph).

Claire wanted to know what, but she couldn’t talk with a mouthful of Michael’s cock, so she just waited there, naked, on her knees, for him to explain.

‘You’ll be going into hospital, Fucktwat,’ Michael explained to her, stroking her hair.  ‘We’re going to enlarge your tits and take them up to an E cup.  And Kitten and Candy are long overdue for their own boob jobs; they’ll both be getting D cups.’

Claire felt both scared and excited.  Scared because Titcage were going to change her body, and give her even bigger udders.  But excited because she knew that with bigger tits she would be a more worthwhile person.  She already felt proud whenever she saw her smaller-titted friends, knowing that she would earn more money and please men better because of her larger chest.  With E cups, men would stare at her even more, and although that would make her feel even sluttier and more whorish, she couldn’t deny that she liked getting attention from men.  It made her feel like she wasn’t completely pointless.

She was pleased for Kitten and Candy too.  She had been embarrassed for them and their small tits – and, to be honest, she had often regretted they didn’t have bigger slutmelons when she fucking them, because it would be more fun to play with their boobs if they were bigger.

Michael came in Claire’s mouth, and after he had given her permission to swallow his sperm, Claire thanked him both for the cum, and for arranging to make her udders bigger.

The actual procedure itself was simple.  Claire, Kitten and Candy all went into the hospital together.  They were stripped naked, photographed, measured, and answered questions for a variety of nurses about their medical condition and their sexual history.  Claire and Kitten were both eager to get bigger boobs.  Candy – Steph – was not so eager and tried to run away several times.  Kitten and Claire had to hold her hands tightly to make her do what the doctors wanted and tell the doctors that she was consenting to breast implants.

Claire felt frustrated with Steph.  A part of Claire remembered how she would have felt months ago about this idea – horrified, degraded, and scared – but that was in the past.  Now the laws had changed and women with small boobs were objectively less valuable than women with bigger tits.  If Steph didn’t get this surgery, no one would ever want her.  She was lucky to still be at Titcage with such a comparatively flat chest, and not have been fired.  The law change had sparked a boom in plastic surgery.  It was very expensive now, but Titcage was going to pay all their costs.  The three sluts were very lucky to have this opportunity, and Claire wished Steph could appreciate that.  Besides, Claire was really looking forward to squeezing and licking Steph’s new hooters, and Claire knew now that if a slut refused to cater to your sexual whims you needed to force her.

Eventually the girls were taken into surgery.  Claire went under the anaesthetic, and when she woke up, groggily, she was lying in a hospital bed.  She was completely nude, with no covers over her, and her arms were secured above her head and her legs were secured spread-eagled to the bottom of the bed.

To her satisfaction, though, her tits were bigger.  They felt heavier on her chest, and they bulged in a firm, round, satisfying way that Claire liked.  Or rather, that Fucktwat liked.  It was Claire who had D cup tits.  These big melons belonged to Fucktwat. 

Claire soon learned that Kitten and Candy were in the room with her, on the other side of curtains.  The first doctor to enter the room pulled the curtains aside, and Claire was able to see her sister and her lover.  They looked amazing with their new D-cup breasts, much more like the whores that Claire knew they were.  Claire wanted to kiss them and lick their boobs but she was strapped into her bed.

The room was a private room, arranged by Titcage, and Titcage had told the hospital staff the three girls were available for their use.  Doctors and nurses both would come into the room and fuck the girls as they laid in their beds, being careful to be tender with their new augmented tits.  The lead surgeon explained some of what had been done to Claire as he tilted Claire’s bed into a nearly-upright position and then stuck his cock into Claire’s pussy while standing up.

‘Obviously you have these new, improved breast sizes.  But we’ve made a few other changes too.  Most women who get breast implants find that it decreases the sensitivity in their breasts, but your employer authorised us to try a new procedure on you.  You’ll find that your breasts are even MORE sensitive than before.  In fact, you should find that even relatively mild bumps to your breasts are quite painful, and something as light as the rubbing of fabric across your nipples may be so distracting you can’t concentrate on anything else.’

He pinched Claire’s nipple to demonstrate, and Claire shrieked in agony. 

‘We’ve also put an implant in there which will release a small amount of aphrodisiac into your system constantly.  You’ll find you’re generally hornier now, like a slut should be.  One of the side effects of it is that it cancels out most modern contraceptive pills.  While you have the implant, you won’t be able to control your reproductive cycle at all.  Any sperm in your pussy could make you pregnant at any time.’

And again, to prove his point, he ejaculated into Claire’s cunt.

They kept the girls there for four days, occasionally moving them for exercise but mostly keeping them strapped in place for easy fucking.  A nurse would come by several times a day and gently massage the girls’ new tits.  The feeling of having her breasts squeezed was both extremely painful and extremely pleasurable for Claire.  With the treatment her breasts had been given to increase sensitivity, Claire found it hard to separate out pain and pleasure in her boobs, and soon stopped trying to.  She quickly built up some resistance to the new sensory overload but only some, and she now found any stimulation of her fuckbags at all made her cunt wet and left her unable to concentrate.

Naturally, they were given their earbuds to wear the whole time, their own voices telling them how much they liked being raped and how they only existed to be fucked.  Steph still cried every time a man fucked her, and Claire could hear her sister’s tears even over the voice from the earbuds.  Disturbingly, Claire found that the sound of a girl crying made her wet now.  She knew she should be horrified by that but it was hard to concentrate on why.  Or maybe she could concentrate on it, but chose not to.  It was much easier to think about how nice it felt to have the doctor’s dick in her cunt.

When the girls got home, they found that none of their tops or bras fit them anymore.  Claire and Steph’s father refused to buy them any new ones, though.  He liked the look of their new giant fuckbags bulging obscenely against the too-small clothes.  Trying to pack their new larger tits into bra cups that were too small was embarrassing, and, given their new sensitivity, it hurt.  Luckily they didn’t have to wear clothes around the house.

Claire’s father was obsessed with the girls’ new boobs.  He flagged early that he wanted to start spanking their melons now as well as their cunts, and Claire had to tell him that it wasn’t safe to do that for a few weeks yet.  She got an extra ten swats on her twat for daring to say it, but he did leave their breasts unbruised until there was no danger of damaging the implants.

He didn’t leave their breasts alone entirely though.  He didn’t seem to be able to help staring at his daughters’ new, enlarged melons.  On their third night back from hospital he called them into the lounge, and explained to them that their new breasts had taken their cockteasing to a new level.  ‘You are obviously trying to get your father’s dick hard, like the little sluts you are,’ he said, staring at their boobs.  ‘If you’re going to go to such lengths to get me hard, you should be part of the solution too.’

He made the girls kneel in front of him, nude, as they normally were around the house.  He then extracted his cock from his pants and began to masturbate, his eyes fixed on Claire and Steph’s newly embiggened fuckbags.  Claire felt something unpleasant churn in her stomach as she looked at her father pumping his cock right in front of her, at eye level.  Several conflicting impulses in her mind were calling on her at the same time.  The part that was still Claire the schoolgirl wanted to shriek, and cover herself, and be disgusted at the thought of her father’s cock.  A more intelligent part of her knew that the reason she wasn’t covering herself and running was because she had become indoctrinated by Titcage, and that part of her was horrified and scared.  But the dominant part of Claire was the part that spoke to her on her Titcage training tapes.  It told her that she was indeed a cockteasing slut who should use her body to please men.  It told her that it was right for her father to react sexually to her body.  It made her want to lean forward and take her father’s cock in her mouth and suck on it until it came.

The girls knelt and waited and watched their father’s cock until finally, moaning, he came, ejaculating sperm all over the girls’ breasts.  Steph made a little despairing noise as the white, sticky semen spattered on her tits, but she didn’t move away. 

Their father looked at them in satisfaction when he was done.  ‘Good sluts,’ he said.  ‘Now, you know what to do.  Lick each other clean.’

Hesitantly, the girls moved towards each other.  Steph’s face leant down, and Claire felt her sister begin to lick her father’s cum from her breasts.  Steph’s tongue caressed Claire’s nipples, and the newly sensitive skin of her fuckbags, and when Steph was done Claire returned the favour, savouring the taste of her father’s salty semen.

Afterwards, both of the girls were so horny, they had to 69, licking each other’s cunts feverishly as their father watched.

Over the next week, Titcage sent Sluthole around during their recovery time, to take new photos of their improved tits for their Titcage IDs.  Naturally Sluthole tortured both girls in the process, squeezing their over-sensitive boobs, pinching their clits, and pissing in their mouths.  Claire found she didn’t even really mind this treatment anymore.  It was what she deserved, after all.  Maybe the old Claire hadn’t deserved it, but the new Claire – the Claire with fake tits, the Claire who called herself Fucktwat – was clearly good for nothing except fucking and abuse.

===

You can buy the complete novel of Titcage – all 42 chapters plus bonus content! – for only $9.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store.  And even better, you’ll be supporting me to keep the lights on and keep creating new erotic content! (Click here to view in store.)

==

Claire gets her tits upgraded.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Titcage, Part 32

(Buy the complete novel of Titcage now by clicking here!)

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine | Thirty | Thirty-One

===

That was how Claire and Steph slept from then on – chained together in a 69, wet and horny and eating each other’s twats.  Almost every night their pussies were stuffed with dog-food – ‘dessert’, their dad called it – and by the next morning their cunts would be empty and their stomachs full of pet food.  They got their cunts spanked twice a day, and if they orgasmed from it their father would kiss them on the mouth.  They ate at the table naked, masturbating while they ate, they would do all the chores in the house while naked, and they would crawl around for long stretches on all fours like dogs.

Claire’s success in campaigning gave her a temporary break from lobbying at work.  She was instead assigned to one of Titcage’s research projects.   They were currently working on methods to realign lesbians to enjoy cock, or to otherwise learn behaviours that were more pleasing to men.  Young lesbians, desperate for money, had signed up as volunteers for these experiments.   Claire was assigned secretarial and assistant work in these projects.

Her uniform in research turned out to be a lab coat with nothing underneath.  Clips inside the lab coat attached to her nipples and labia; there was no reason for these clips, as far as Claire could see, other than to cause her pain, and they were very painful indeed.  Claire’s clit ring was set to vibrate constantly.

Each of the experimental programs was different.  One program consisted of several girls who did nothing else but come in three times a week and masturbate.  They masturbated in isolated rooms containing nothing but a comfy chair and a TV screen; the only experimental requirement was that the girls masturbated for a full hour whether they were horny or not, that they take an aphrodisiac an hour prior to attending the office, and that they watch what was shown on the screen.

The screens started off showing gentle lesbian porn, and the girls masturbated to this happily, with Claire discreetly watching and taking notes through a hidden screen.  

But over subsequent visits the videos changed.  First they became more violent, with one woman dominating and degrading the other.   Then men were introduced – at the edge of the frame as cameramen, or as extras observing.  They started becoming naked, and more and more shots had erect cocks in them.  Finally the men started becoming involved in the proceedings, with a girl giving a blowjob while she masturbated her partner, or the man cumming on the girls as they 69ed.  Eventually the men were fucking the girls and then violently raping them.

Claire was fascinated to see that these girls, supposedly lesbians, would still have wet cunts even after everything happening on screen was heterosexual.  She watched the little whores orgasm to footage of a man slapping and raping a woman.  Sometimes they would look confused or disappointed in themselves.  Two girls cried all the way through the later stages of the experiments.  But they came nonetheless.

Naturally Titcage had kept all the footage of these girls, nude and sluttily rubbing their cunts.   Part of Claire’s job was to arrange a little extra footage too; on the way to their last appointment at Titcage each of the lesbians would be raped by a man.  The men were hired and paid by Claire (sometimes paid with money, sometimes with blowjobs provided by Claire).  They would catch the lesbian, her pussy already wet from her pre-session aphrodisiac, rape her, and film the rape, including her inevitable orgasm.   The crying girl would then turn up at Titcage and have to go masturbate for an hour while watching footage of each of the other girls in the program being raped just like she had been.  They all thought the footage was just more porn; and they all orgasmed looking at it.

One of the most abhorrent experiments – and the one that made Claire’s cunt the wettest – involved one half of a teen lesbian couple.  The girl was being paid to drug her lover.  Three times a week she would secretly feed her unsuspecting lover a combination of drugs which would get her aroused and knock her unconscious.  The girl would then get her male friends to come over and rape her lover in her sleep.  

Titcage cameras hidden in the house by the girl allowed Claire and her unit to watch the lover’s behaviours while awake; they had been delighted to discover that the unknowingly-raped girl was using a dick-shaped dildo more often, was making porn choices that more often involved men, and was dressing sluttier and flirting with her male friends.

Soon, however, the girl was going to discover she was pregnant despite having no memory of fucking any men; the whole team were awaiting that moment eagerly.  Claire found that she herself was often fantasising now about either using the unconscious girl for her own sexual gratification, or being raped while she was asleep.

Constantly tracking the abuse and degradation of pretty sluts all day left Claire in a state of extreme sexual tension.  There was an almost constant trickle of cunt slime running down her legs, and she had to drink a lot of cordial to keep up with the moisture she was losing to arousal and perspiration. The work was real work and it kept her busy; she rarely had time to slip away even to piss.  When she did manage to get away, most times she couldn’t even let herself orgasm because of her requirement to complete three full masturbations each day without cumming.

She wished Jim were around to fuck her; but he wasn’t.  The other girls working in research were cool towards Claire, and none seemed inclined to help her get off.  The section leader was a man named Miles, and he simply wouldn’t fuck her.  She had tried everything to get him to; she had kissed him, rubbed her tits against him, let him see her breasts and twat.   She had even got into work early one day and waited for him, kneeling nude in his office and cupping her tits for his pleasure, but he had ignored her except for telling her to get to work.   She had cried all day that day; she knew what a slut she was now, and that was horrible, but to be such a slut and then be rejected was even worse.  If all she was good for was fucking, and people wouldn’t fuck her, what was the point of her?

That made her afternoon sessions with Kitten all the better.  They would lick each other to orgasm as soon as possible after work; sometimes in the toilets, lying in a pool of urine; sometimes in the back of Kitten’s car.  Once they couldn’t even make it to the car, and the two girls ate each other out on Titcage’s front lawn, in full view of staff passing by.  A part of Claire was appalled by what she was doing, as men walked past and took pictures of her licking Kitten’s twat, but a bigger part of her just needed to cum desperately and had been fantasising about Kitten’s pussy all day.

Sometimes they would go back to Kitten’s house, where Claire would suck or fuck Kitten’s dad, and then both girls would service Kitten’s friends.  Sometimes they would go back to Claire’s house, where Kitten would put on a whorish show and then Claire and Steph would eat their dinner out of Kitten’s pussy before Kitten went off to fuck their father.

Kitten helped Claire meet her last Q grade requirements.  She took Claire for walks and helped her practice relaxing her bladder and pissing while walking.  It was strange at first but then Claire liked the freedom of urinating without stopping, feeling the warm liquid run down her leg as she walked.  People sometimes looked at her strangely but Claire was used to that now.

Kitten also helped Claire learn how to put her tits in bondage.  The simplest way was with tight nylon ropes; Kitten showed Claire how to wrap it around the base of her boobs and tie it tightly.  The result was intense pain in Claire’s fuckbags; they bulged obscenely and started to go a dark purple, and Claire discovered that they were now super-sensitive and would flare in agonising pain at the slightest bump.   Delivering her required hugs to men with her boobs bound up was extreme self-torture.  Bumping into a wall left her screaming in pain.  

Claire chose Ben as her male friend for her masturbation requirements.  Whenever she was alone with Ben, Claire’s hand would always be at her pussy, rubbing frantically.  Ben didn’t mind; he seemed to be resigned to Claire’s sluttiness now, and in any case was often too busy fucking her mouth or her tits to care.  But the routine of always touching herself while near a particular man did strange things to Claire’s mind.  It reinforced the idea that, for this man at least, all she was for was fucking.  And it helped train her in the larger idea that she should always be wet and ready for the use of men.

Claire was required to sometimes hurt her tits or twat while masturbating now.  Kitten showed her that this was as simple as putting clothespegs on her nipples while rubbing her cunt.  At first Claire found this painful and distracting but soon she became used to the feeling of a little stinging in her tits while she fingerfucked her twat.   After a while she found her pussy juicing up in anticipation when she applied the pegs.

Finally, Claire was required to drink cum from a condom.  Kitten furnished this for Claire after Claire’s second porn party.  A terrified Amy and Elena had turned up again, although this time Steph avoided the event.  The boys spent all night raping the girls while watching abusive porn; Claire orgasmed twice.  After the boys had gone, Kitten brought Claire a full condom, and then licked Claire’s cunt while Claire upended the plastic balloon over her tongue.  The cum tasted cold and sticky, but good.  Claire orgasmed from Kitten’s tongue as she licked the last of the sperm from the inside of the condom.

It was only afterwards, as the two girls kissed in post-coital bliss, that Kitten told Claire where the sperm had come from.

‘That was from your dad,’ Kitten whispered.  And even as Claire’s stomach did a horrified flip, something happened in Claire’s pussy, and she orgasmed twice.

===

You can buy the complete novel of Titcage – all 42 chapters plus bonus content! – for only $9.99 USD in the All These Roadworks store.  And even better, you’ll be supporting me to keep the lights on and keep creating new erotic content! (Click here to view in store.)

==

Claire further explores her complex sexual feelings towards women.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Eliza’s Possession, Part 2

Previous chapter:
One

===

“Really, Eliza,” said Henry, his eyes on her chest, “I think this is a little much.  Blaming a ghost for your slutty behaviour?  I don’t know what… er… possessed you to send these videos – or to cut up your clothes – but it’s clear you need a little more discipline.”

“But it’s true!” Eliza wailed.  “I don’t *want* to do these things.”

Surely if her father truly understood that she wasn’t *consensually* being a slut, then he would…

“I don’t think spanking her ass worked, dad,” said Zane.  “Did you see her yesterday?  I think she was turned on by it.”

“What do you suggest, son?” asked Henry.

“Well, the men that used to live here – with that girl – I heard they used to spank her… well, her cunt,” said Zane.

“You can’t be serious!” protested Eliza.

Henry nodded.  “Help me get her up on the table,” he said.

Zane grabbed Eliza around the waist, and lifted her up bodily as she struggled.  With Henry’s help, they got her onto the table, tits up, and then Zane held her arms while Henry pushed Eliza’s legs apart and stepped between them.

“This is for your own good, Eliza,” he said – and then he began to slap her cunt.

Eliza howled with pain on each blow.  Her pussy was sensitive – it wasn’t designed to be spanked!  And yet with each fresh burst of pain she felt herself wettening with arousal.

Was it the ghost?  Was it her supernatural tormentor making her sluttily aroused from having her twat beaten?

But the ghost had never done anything to her during the day.  This was all her own fault.

The blows began making wet slapping sounds as her cunt grew wetter.  Her father’s hand was coming away from her pussy with moisture on it.

She felt a painful, humiliating orgasm drawing near.

And then her father stopped.

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson, Eliza?” he asked.

She almost moaned with frustration.  Her cunt was so wet, and with a little more she could have release.

What had her father asked her to say yesterday?

“Thank you for spanking my cunt, daddy,” she whispered.  “I’m sorry for being a slut.  But I think I need more… ten more.  Please.”

Her father shook his head in disgust – and then resumed beating her pussy.

On the tenth blow, she orgasmed.  She tried to hide it, but her whole body bucked and shuddered.  Her father and brother had to know that she had just cum from having her pussy beaten.

“I don’t think there’s any point in buying you any new clothes until we solve your discipline problem,” said her father.  “You might just cut them up again.  And since you can hardly leave the house dressed like that, you won’t be able to work or study – so I think it’s only fair that you become responsible for all the household chores.  I expect you to do all the cooking and cleaning from now on, Eliza.”

Something about that felt right – a memory from her night-time visitor.  A woman’s place was in servitude.

“And you should take away her phone,” said Zane.  “So she doesn’t do… anything inappropriate with it.”

Eliza dimly realised that she was becoming a prisoner in her own home – unable to leave it, unable to communicate with anyone outside it.

There was nothing she could do.

She spent the day engaged in menial chores, and cooked dinner for the men, and went to her bedroom tired.

“What do you want from me?” she asked the empty air.  “Can’t we make a deal?  Please, stop doing this to me.”

There was no answer – but Eliza felt a tingling in her pussy, and she imagined she heard a cruel feminine laughter in the air.

She looked at her bed – and at the heavy iron shackles that were still attached to it.

She decided that she could stop herself from visiting her father and brother in the night, at least.   She didn’t have the key to the shackles, but her father did – it had come with the house keys.  

She climbed into bed, and placed her legs in the shackles, spread apart, and let them lock.  Then she likewise locked her wrists, so that she was chained spreadeagled to the bed.

There would be no sleepwalking tonight.

She feel asleep – and woke again, somewhere near midnight.  She felt herself straining at the shackles, trying to get free.  Her pussy was wet, and she wanted to masturbate so badly that she felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Her father’s cock needed to be sucked.  She was failing him by staying in bed.  She was a bad girl.  Her brother needed to cum.  He needed his cumrag sister.  She was stupid and useless.  A girl who wasn’t being fucked wasn’t worth anything at all.

Then, suddenly, her bedroom door opened.  

It was her brother – naked.

“I came to check on you,” he whispered.  “You didn’t come to visit me.”

Part of her wanted to tell him to leave, that she was possessed by a ghost and she didn’t want to be near him.  Part of her wanted him to free her, so that she could rub her pussy while she masturbated him.

Instead, she heard herself say, “Isn’t this better?  You can do whatever you want with me, Master.”

He came closer and stood beside her.  The moonlight through the windows let him stare at her exposed tits – and let Eliza stare at his erect cock.

“Are you really… possessed by a ghost?” he said.  “Am I talking to Eliza right now?”

“All girls are interchangeable,” she replied.  “We’re just tits and cunts.  It doesn’t matter if I’m your sister or a slave or a whore.  I don’t even deserve a name.  You can just call me cunt or bitch.”

“Do you remember… doing this in the morning?  When you’re with me?” asked Zane.

“It doesn’t matter what a girl thinks or remembers,” said Eliza.  “But I promise you there will never, ever be consequences for anything you do to me.”

Zane reached out and rested a hand on her breast.  Then he squeezed.

Eliza moaned.

He squeezed harder.   Then he began to pump his cock with his other hand, aiming the tip towards her face.

“God, you’re such a cunt,” he moaned – and when she didn’t object to him using those words, he seemed emboldened.  “Dumb slut,” he spat, squeezing her breast harder – hard enough to hurt.  “Stupid whore.”

And then suddenly he was cumming – all over her face, covering her with his spunk.  Eliza wanted to turn away, but the force possessing her made her keep looking at him and smiling as his semen went in her eyes, her nose, and mouth.

“Thank you, Master,” she whispered when he was done.

Zane pulled on her tit, while leaning forward, so that he could wipe his dick clean on her titflesh.   Then, without another word, he turned and left.

After a while, Eliza fell asleep again.  

When she woke, it was morning – and her father was standing over her, wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

“What’s this, Eliza?” he asked.

Eliza thought he was referring to the shackles.  

“I chained myself up so I wouldn’t sleepwalk,” she said.  “But you have the key, right?”

But that wasn’t what he meant.

“Whose cum is on your face, Eliza?” he asked.

Eliza went bright red.   She couldn’t lie.  Her father knew it wasn’t his.

“Zane’s,” she said.

“Have you been cockteasing your brother, Eliza?” asked her father.

“No!” she objected.   Except… she had been, in a sense.   Though not willingly.  “I mean… the ghost…”

“I don’t want to hear any lies about ghosts,” growled her father.  “I’m beginning to realise that I have a slut for a daughter, and I have to get used to that.”

He looked at her for a minute – and then, slowly, he extracted his erect cock from his boxer shorts.

“Open up,” he said.

“No, daddy,” Eliza protested.  “I only did that because the ghost made me.  I didn’t really want to…”

He slapped her cum-streaked face.

“I said open up,” he growled.

She did open her mouth – in shock – and when she did, he grabbed her hair, and pulled her face towards his dick.  She had no choice but to allow it into her mouth, and then begin to suck.

Eliza wasn’t possessed by a ghost now.  She wasn’t showing any sign of consenting.  In fact, she struggled, trying to pull away – but her father held her tight, and began humping against her face.

She was being raped by her father.  She was chained up and could do nothing to stop it.

And her pussy was once again wet.

He came into her mouth before long, and she swallowed, and then he let her out of the chains.  He frog-marched her naked into the kitchen, where they found Zane.

“It seems Eliza has been something of the cocktease the last few nights,” said Henry.  “I don’t blame you for being unable to resist her, son.”

This was clearly a relief to Zane, who had looked terrified when he first saw his cum still visible on his sister’s face.

“She comes into my room at night…” began Zane.

“Mine too,” said Henry.   “She’s been a complete whore.   It’s not reasonable to expect two adult men to resist a girl who’s so persistent in trying to tease our cocks.   It’s time that Eliza learned that actions have consequences.  From now on, if Eliza causes sexual tension in either of us, I believe we should use Eliza to relieve it.”

“We should just… fuck her?” asked Zane, nervously.

“Daddy, no!” squealed Eliza.   “I’m a virgin!  And you’re my family!”

“You’re only a virgin in your cunt, Eliza,” said Henry.  “You’ve been very active with your mouth.”

“It’s not me!” wailed Eliza.   “I didn’t want this!  It’s the ghost!”

“She’s stil telling those lies about ghosts, dad,” said Zane.

“How should we discipline her?” asked Henry.

“Maybe her tits this time?” said Zane.  “And… I feel like names are a privilege.  Maybe we just call her a cunt and a bitch until she learns her lesson.”

“That’s a fine idea,” said Henry.  “Eliza, get down on your knees, and lift up your tits with your hands.  Be sure to tuck your thumbs underneath.”

Eliza didn’t quite understand, but she did what she was told – and then her father took off his belt, and doubled it over in his hands, and suddenly she *did* understand.

CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!

His hard leather belt cracked into her titflesh, leaving long red welts, and Eliza screamed.  He hit her again and again.  She thought he might stop at ten, but he kept going, and by the time he finally *did* stop at twenty, her breasts had significant bruises.

“Zane, would you plug her mouth, please?” asked Henry.

Zane, obligingly, took out his cock and forced it into his sister’s mouth, and watched her suck on him as she cried.  When he managed to happily ejaculate into her mouth despite the fact that she was crying, Eliza knew that there would be no release from this nightmare.  Her father had decided that he preferred having a submissive suckslut to having a daughter, and her brother would rather have a cumrag than a sister.

“Thank you for beating my tits, Master Henry,” she said when it was done.  “Thank you for letting me suck your cock, Master Zane.  I’m sorry I’m a slut.”

Both men felt some level of guilt for doing this to her, certainly – but they both made the decision to transfer that guilt outwards, onto Eliza, and treat her with even more cruelty.

They left her to do the household chores – but around lunchtime her father came into the bathroom while she was scrubbing the bathtub.  He watched her for a moment – and then took out his cock and began to piss on her.

She squealed, but that just resulted in getting some in her mouth, so after that she stayed silent and let it happen.  When her father’s bladder was empty, he grabbed her wet hair and forced her face against his cock, and she sucked him off again.  She showered herself clean when he was gone.

She served them dinner in the evening, and her father made her suck Zane’s cock under the table while they ate.  When they were done, he declared that her cooking hadn’t been very good, and with Zane’s help he dragged her to the bedroom and forced her legs apart so he could spank her pussy another twenty times.

“What about her cunt, dad?” said Zane.  “Are we going to let her stay a virgin?”

“Well, son, we need to test this little bitch,” said her father.  “Tonight I’ll lock all the doors and windows.  If she can stay in bed all night, without using the shackles, and without cockteasing us, then in the morning we’ll consider giving her back some privileges.  But otherwise it’s clear that the life of a fuckdoll is the life that she wants.”

And with that, they left her in her bedroom.

Eliza tried her best.   She tried to not fall asleep.  She thought edging would keep her awake – albeit horny – and so she began to masturbate.  Her plan was to not let herself cum, but she was foiled by two factors.   The first was that her cunt was sensitive from spanking, and it *hurt* to masturbate – and the pain just made her hornier.  The second was that whenever she let her mind drift, it went to the taste of her brother’s cock, and the satisfaction she got from giving her father a blowjob.  And it began to think about what it would feel like to have her father or brother rape her cunt.

And then she would orgasm.

After her third orgasm, she fell asleep.

At midnight she rose and went to her father’s room.  She climbed into bed next to him and began stroking his cock.  She confessed that she *was* possessed, and the real Eliza hated the thought of fucking her father, but that there was nothing that Eliza could do about it.  She told her father how the imprisoned slave girl had been trained with beatings and fuckings until she truly loved her enslavement and could not even imagine defying her masters.

She suggested that training *her* would be a lot faster than it had been with the slave girl, because the slave girl’s ghost would help.  And that once Eliza was trained, she could be allowed out of the haunted bedroom – perhaps to sleep in some kind of cage – and then Henry could abduct *other* girls, and chain them up in the haunted bedroom, and begin the process of training them too.

She didn’t let her father cum – just edged him for nearly two hours – before leaving and going to visit her brother.

She edged Zane too, as she told him that Eliza wasn’t a lesbian and *hated* the thought of kissing or fucking girls, but that once Eliza was properly trained she could be forced to go and seduce attractive women and bring them home for threesomes with Zane.  She could even be told to *rape* women, just for the pleasure of Zane’s cock as he watched.

Then she went back to bed.

She woke in the morning to the feel of being lifted from the bed and placed on all fours – and then the sensation of her father pushing his dick into her virginal pussy.

When she opened her mouth to scream, Zane, standing in front of her, plugged it with her cock.

“Damn, this bitch feels good,” said her father.

“I still wish you’d let me take her cunt first,” complained Zane.

“Privileges of seniority,” said Henry.  “We can take her out the back and shove a hose up her cunt if you want her clean before you take your turn.”

“Maybe I just use her ass this morning,” said Zane, “and try her cunt in the evening.”

“Makes sense,” said Henry.   “No point in leaving her with any virginity in any of her holes.”

Eliza struggled, and tried to escape, but that just seemed to make her father and brother harder and hornier.

And in any case, her cunt was wet, and despite the fact it was daytime, and she was free of the ghost, she knew that soon she was going to cum.

Cum from being raped by her father’s cock.  Cum from sucking her brother’s dick.  Cum from the knowledge that her father and brother were going to abuse and rape her for the rest of her life, and enjoy doing it.

When the orgasm came, it was the best one she had ever had.

And she only had herself to blame.

===

If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love my e-book Cast a Slutty Spell – Stories of Magical Erotica, available for only $3.99 USD at my creator site! (Click here to view in store.)

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The haunting of Eliza's house drives her into increasingly slutty behaviour.

alltheseroadworks Guest Post, Story

Guest Post: Bimbofied by Older Brother, Part 1

All These Roadworks note: The following text is the first chapter of Bimbofied by Older Brother by Bimbo Blackwood. The complete novella-length tale of incest, mind control and bimbofication is available now in the All These Roadworks store for only $7.99 USD! Get your copy now! (Click here to view.)

===

“You don’t want us living on the streets, do you?”

I look up at my big brother with a sulky frown. It’s not that he doesn’t deserve help paying the bills, because he does, and now that I’m eighteen, I know I should try harder to find a job—especially because Brent’s been doing it all on his own since mom disappeared months ago. My hesitation is that his “easy solution” to our money problems is gross and sleazy.

“I just don’t feel right about it,” I mumble, blushing as he points at my bare feet and exclaims, “You like painting them up anyway! No one’ll even see your face, Sophie. It’ll be quick, anonymous cash! Just flirt with some losers and show them your pretty toes—”

“But that’s weird!” I argue. “And why would anyone wanna pay to see my feet?”

I cringe as he sinks to his knees before me, gritting my teeth as his large hands grip my ankles. “Because dudes are weird,” he half teases, half pleads, his blue eyes boring into mine as he runs one hand down the front of my left foot and squeezes. I’m not sure whether to laugh or pull away at his over-the-top display as he pulls the foot he’s gripping up and gives it a slow, mocking kiss, like an old-timey gentleman might kiss a lady’s hand. “These little piggies could earn us a fortune!”

“Get off me, creep,” I grouse, but I can’t help but smile as he drops my foot and sticks out his tongue, then acts like his hand is dirty by grimacing.

“You’ll have to wash them up though, pee-yew!”

I laugh and kick at him. “Whatever! I’m not doing it!”

“Come on, Soph,” he says seriously, sitting beside me on the couch. “I really need the help, and I’m not asking that much of you. I’ll take the pictures and upload them to the site. All you have to do is talk to people. You love chatting it up, right?”

“Not like that,” I grumble.

But he’s wearing me down and we both know it. It only takes another sad look and a pitiful, “Please?” before I’m letting him snap some pictures with his phone, groaning as he makes me do dumb things like cross my ankles primly, or stand on my tip-toes so he can hone in on the high arches of my pale, delicate feet.

“You do have really pretty feet,” he keeps saying as I huff at him about how stupid this all is. “Now spread your toes apart, as far as you can….”

My face goes nearly as red as my crimson-painted toenails, because although the other directions he gave me seemed silly, this one seems a little too sexual, although I’m not sure why. I don’t argue since I think that we’re almost done, biting my lip as Brent hums in appreciation.

“Now clench them in the air,” he tells me. “Legs straight up….”

“What?”

“You know . . . like, uh, curl them sensuously, but we’ll show off a little more of your smooth, slender legs, too.”

“Brent,” I whine, flinching as he pushes me flat on my back and pulls on my legs. My hands fly to my jean skirt, making sure it stays in place and doesn’t show off my pink, cotton panties; I’m so embarrassed at getting pulled around like this (by my own brother, no less!) that I can barely bite out the words, “This is really not cool—”

“Last shot, promise,” he interrupts, his fingers gently playing with my toes, pushing them down as nervous flutters go through me.

It feels really fucking weird having my older brother play with my feet, even though I know he’s just trying to get me to do the pose so this entire thing can be over. It’s stupid to think he’s enjoying it more than he should be, but my stomach has worked itself into knots over the captivated look on his face, and I have a horrible feeling that I shouldn’t look at his groin area, like I might suddenly spot something trying to poke through his jeans.

Don’t be gross, I think nervously, closing my eyes as I curl my toes, but I know what my legs-up position is supposed to symbolize, and I hate it.

“I’m going to upload these to Brainless Bimbos and then we’ll sit back and watch the money roll in,” my brother tells me triumphantly a few moments later, and I’m so relieved that he’s not touching me anymore (and that this whole strange photoshoot is finally over) that I barely comprehend his words. “I’ll doctor up a face-shot of you. Maybe photoshop your eyes and lips—”

“Wait, what?” I stammer. “I thought you said I didn’t have to show my face!”

“Well, it won’t be your face really,” he says, looking at me with scrutinizing eyes that suddenly make me feel ugly and small. “It’ll be enhanced! Unrecognizable. You’ll be really hot like the other sites’ girls….”

“Thanks, asshat.”

“Ah, come on. You’re cute, So-so, and I really don’t have to change your features that much. Just enough so that no one knows who you really are, right?”

“Some kind of bimbo, apparently,” I huff. “Was it braless? No . . . brain-dead?”

“It’s just a dumb name,” Brent soothes me. “Brainless. It doesn’t mean anything.”

It gives me an uneasy feeling though, especially knowing that anyone and everyone could go on it and maybe recognize me. I haven’t seen my brother’s photoshop skills, so I have no idea if he’s any good at doctoring photos—and I really, really don’t want my face on this website, in any form, enhanced or not.

I’m too tired to argue about it though, and I soon forget that I might have to do anything else with the site, letting Brent do all the set-up while I get lost in my TV dramas. He doesn’t bother me for the rest of the night (and even orders a pizza when I complain through text that I’m hungry). Really, he’s always been a great and caring older brother—watching out for me and practically being a father figure, even though we’re only a handful of years apart. Today might have been really weird and uncomfortable, but deep down inside, I know he must be doing what he thinks is best for us.

***

“You got your first match!” Brent tells me over breakfast the next morning. “Actually, you have quite a few of them. I knew your feet were super cute.”

“Gross,” I tell him, spitting out the bite of toast that I was chewing on. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Don’t be like that. You just have to say sweet things and act girly for tips. It’s easier than having to go out and waitress, right? Probably earns more, too.”

“Whatever.”

“Just try it. For me?”

He gives me his stupid puppy-dog eyes and my grumpy expression melts away. I really do love my brother, even if his weird idea makes me a little sick and anxious. It’s just playing pretend, I tell myself, it doesn’t really mean anything.

And that’s how I find myself parked on the couch with the laptop, messaging men who tell me how sexy my feet and legs are, and how they want to lick and suck on all my toes.

‘Be honest, you like the attention,’ Footfetish69 types to me.

Weirdly, a shiver of pleasure goes through me at reading his words. Do I like the attention? I think I should hate it, but somehow the Brainless Bimbos website seems pretty relaxed and chill, the layout simple and attractive, and the casual texting back and forth is strangely addictive.

‘I guess I kinda do, xoxo,’ I type back, blushing as I realize that I’m getting a little aroused over all the attention, even though when I first sat down and started doing this, I was nauseous.

‘I think you’re really cute—not just your feet, but your face, too,’ he tells me.

A jolt of horror goes through me as I realize that I haven’t yet looked at the pictures Brent uploaded. I click through them, not seeing my face, but only my slim, pale legs going up to the hem of my short, jean skirt (thanks a lot, Brent, I think bitterly, realizing that he definitely wasn’t only shooting my feet for most of these), ignoring all the ones of just my pretty painted toes and slender ankles.

Where is this face pic? I wonder wildly. What the hell is Foot-fucker talking about?

It’s not until I get to my profile that I see my full face-shot, and I gasp in shock. “You lied to me!”

“Huh?” Brent calls from the kitchen, clanging the dishes together loudly as he loads the dishwasher. “What about?”

“You said you wouldn’t show my real face! You said you would shop the pic!”

“Oh yeah….” he calls back.

Hot rage goes through me, but before I can get up and storm off to confront my older brother, another text pops up from Footfetish69, stating, ‘I really love how innocent you look. You’re a really cute girl! I bet you love being so sweet and sexy….’

“I am a cute girl,” I mumble, something in my brain clicking the anger off as flattery goes through me.

I don’t know why it happens, or how my emotions seem to be so placated by this website, but I can’t help but type back, ‘Thanks! Xoxo!’

For a moment I forget about how Brent failed to make me look different, simply uploading a high school graduation photo, where I’m smiling demurely at the camera, my dirty-blonde hair cascading over my shoulders, blue eyes shining bright, my heart shaped face looking sweet and innocent and happy—like a girl just entering womanhood and excited to start her new, adult adventure, where endless possibilities await.

‘I think your lips look like a dicksucking dream,’ Footfetish69 tells me. ‘But they could be a little plumper and bigger, don’t you think?’

Cold shame rushes through me. I lift my hand to my mouth, feeling my thin, pink lips, and I suddenly feel inadequate.

“Brent!” I shout. “Why didn’t you change my face! You fucking liar!”

I slam the laptop shut, cursing as I get up and stomp into the kitchen.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! It’s harder than it looks! I’m sorry, Soph—”

“Now everyone is going to know who I really am!”

“No one uses that site but perverts! Are your friends perverts? Is anyone we know perverts?”

“Well, how the hell do you know?” I howl.

Brent slams the dishwasher shut, starting it with a slap of his hand. “Fuck, I’m sorry! Take the face pic off, then….”

I want to scream at him and tell him that he’s an idiot, but he gives me such a pathetic look that I can only turn away and rush back to the laptop. Maybe if I take my profile picture off the site now, hardly anyone will have seen it. But when I open back up the site, there’s a bunch of pop-up texts from random users, and I find myself distracted by:

‘Wow, you are the cutest girl on this site! So innocent looking!’

‘Man, that pure smile takes my breath away!’

‘Such a natural beauty. God has blessed you!’

Maybe having my face picture up isn’t such a bad thing, I think, noticing that the tips are already starting to roll in. There’s a little money jar on the lower side of the screen that I hadn’t noticed before, and apparently, I’ve already earned $47. That’s really not bad for only being on the site for less than a day, and only talking to people for less than an hour….

Plus, they think I’m really cute, my brain buzzes happily.

I can’t help but thank all the men who are complimenting me, sending ‘xoxo’ and ‘thank you!’ to all of them, smiling as dollars continue to roll in, without me having to do anything more than shyly accept their praise.

Maybe this site isn’t all that bad, a humming thought tells me. Maybe I belong here, somehow….

It’s such a weird thought to have that it almost startles me, but then I forget about it as Footfetish69 offers to pay me $100 just to watch someone massage my feet.

“Wow,” I whisper.

That’s a lot of money. Enough to pay the phone bill, which I constantly feel guilty about, because I’m the one who whined and begged Brent to let me have the newest cellphone with the highest internet service, all so I could scroll the internet and call and text whoever whenever, even after he’d told me that we should really downgrade our plan to the shittiest service imaginable after mom ran off with that trucker she met.

‘I don’t really have anyone here but my older brother. But I could massage my feet with lotion for you, sir….’ It feels so dirty to type it out that I nearly don’t send it, but the dollar signs sink deep into my brain, and so I press enter, already imagining how easy it’ll be to earn money if all I have to do is put lotion on my already silky-smooth feet and show them off to strangers.

‘Just have him do it,’ he texts back.

“Uhh,” I utter, glaring at the kitchen, because it seems like my brother is still hiding in there, even though I can’t hear what he’s doing. “Brent?”

“I already said I’m sorry!” he shouts.

“No, I uh, I uh—”

I’m blushing so hard that I can hardly speak, my throat closing up over the words. Maybe this is going too far, I think, pulling my bare legs under me and sitting on my feet. But it’s not like Brent’s never touched my feet before, I reason, because he was just touching them yesterday. And a hundred bucks would be stupid to refuse if he just needs to touch them a little more.

“What do you need, huh?” Brent asks, poking his head into the living room. “Can you not figure out how to take the picture down?”

“That’s not it,” I admit, staring at the floor. “Some guy just offered a hundred bucks if I stream my feet getting massaged….”

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah….”

We look at each other, my gaze hesitant at his excited, “Are you serious?”

My blush deepens as I whisper, “He doesn’t want me to do it, myself, though….”

“That’s real money, So-so,” Brent tells me, calling me the pet name he uses to really try to win me over; he doesn’t wait for my answer, rushing down the hall towards the bathroom. I hear him rustling around loudly, knowing he’s looking for lotion, and I don’t know why, but somehow it doesn’t seem as horrible as it should be—because Brent doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal—and because I’m finally going to be earning a real income now, all because some dude online thinks that I have pretty feet.

‘So yes or no?’ Footfetish69 asks me. ‘You want to show off for me, right? You want to show off how delicate and small your pretty feet are in some big, masculine hands. Your brother can make you feel so good in his big hands….’

Everything inside me seems to go blank for a moment, heat filling up the spot where I should be able to think. Compulsion makes me type out, ‘Yes! Of course! Xoxo!’ before I even fully understand the implications of the words.

‘Good girl,’ he types back. ‘Your brother is a lucky man….’

I blink as the heat flares inside my skull and then dissipates. This man is a pervert, and I hate that he wants my own brother to touch me, because that’s really fucking weird. Sickness roils around in my tummy as I think about how Brent touched me yesterday . . . and maybe he kinda-sorta wants to touch me again today, too….

I can barely breathe as my brother reappears. He walks towards me with a bottle of lotion in one hand, his expression neutral. Why doesn’t he look as freaked out as I feel? But there’s no way I can refuse to do this NOW, not with how much money we’ll be making, and so I robotically shift so that he can kneel before me, jerkily pushing my feet towards him, the camera of the laptop carefully pointed down as I turn it on.

I say nothing as my brother carefully squirts the lotion into his hands, knowing that the laptop is picking up the sound of the oily stuff squelching between his fingers as he rubs his palms together.

This is so fucking weird, I think distantly, although the lotion smells amazing, all tropical and coconutty.

I glance at the screen, seeing a string of exclamation points with Footfetish69’s declaration of: ‘YOU WILL LOVE THIS!!!’ and not understanding why a tremor of excitement goes through me, making me suddenly aware of my pussy, of the wetness leaking against my panties.

Why am I getting excited?

I moan in pleasure as my brother’s large, warm hands envelop one of my feet, the blush spreading down my throat as he looks up at me, his gaze interested and unsure. It feels so strange and intimate, the way he slides his callused palms and fingers against the smooth arch of my foot, his fingers threading with my toes, making me tremble as he applies the perfect pressure.

Gently, he rubs the lotion into my skin, smiling and nodding as I moan again, tilting his head towards the screen as more tips start to roll in. I’m suddenly aware that this livestream is broadcasting to all of my ‘followers’, and that only makes me more embarrassed and horny, knowing that several men are paying to watch my older brother massage me, knowing that the sounds of my breathy whimpers are being broadcast to them, making them shell out cash, my tip jar going from $47 to $356 in the blink of an eye.

‘You’re doing perfect. Keep enjoying it. You love to have your feet rubbed,’ Footfetish69 instructs.

And the weirdest thing is, I really do start to love it, especially when Brent gets braver and begins to stroke his fingertips over the fine ridges of my ankle-bones, pressing into the sensitive curve of my arches, and then runs the pad of his thumb along the ball of my foot, before grabbing my other foot and proceeding to give it the same attention.

‘If you cum from this, I’ll tip $500,’ Footfetish69 tells me.

I nearly pull away from Brent, the haze in my mind lifting temporarily, my thoughts screaming, What. The. Fuck!?

But my older brother doesn’t let go, his eyes darting from the laptop screen to my frightened expression, widening in a way that says, ‘Just do it. Just pretend!’

I choke on another moan, horrified when my pussy grows wetter and tightens, spasming slightly as Brent presses just right with his thumbs into the arches of my feet. Why does it feel so fucking good? It shouldn’t feel this good, should it?

My red-painted toes splay out, against my will, and I try to sit up but can’t, my body shaking, as my older brother really massages deep, the pleasure in me expanding.

Could I really cum from this? That would be so, so fucking wrong, and yet somehow I can’t help but give into it, pretending to pretend, even as the pressure builds and builds inside me, and my shaky moans turn more solid, a steady stream of them rising from my chest.

Brent looks up at me, his eyes half-lidded as he continues to work the heels of his hands into my soles, his thumbs pressing into the balls of my feet. He winks at me in encouragement, and for some reason seeing the flush on his cheeks and the heat in his eyes makes the pleasure inside me explode.

“Oh! Oh God!” I moan, my pussy spasming violently as my toes curl, my feet tensing in my big brother’s deliciously warm, large hands.

I shiver through a violent climax, my vision tunneling, and all thought escapes my head as pleasure rings through me in hot, bright pulses. The ding-ding-dings of tips rolling in barely reach my ears, but on a distant level, I can tell that it must be a lot, since I register Brent’s satisfied, “Holy shit! There’s rent….”

For a moment, all I can think about is how good I feel, and then horror starts to sink in. I didn’t fake it. I actually just orgasmed to my own brother touching me. How much of a fucking freak am I?

I groan softly, desperately, wanting to pull away, wanting to run into my room and hide from all of this, but when I look back at Brent, he nods at me with his eyebrows raised, as though he’s praising me for a job well done. Does he know that I actually came? Or does he think that I’m just a great actress?

He quickly clicks the camera off as I stare at him, and then he says, “Good show, Soph!”

“T-thanks,” I stammer.

“We just earned over a grand from that!”

I glance at the laptop screen, shocked to see the digits, $1154 jiggling above the tip jar.

“You wouldn’t earn that waitressing,” he tells me, wiping his oily hands off on his jeans.

He smiles at me, and even though I know he wants me to agree with him, the shame and jittery after-shocks of orgasm going through me are almost too much. I can only look away, not trusting myself to answer.

“I know it was weird, but come on….” he whispers, patting my bare knee swiftly. “All for show, right?”

I nod, staring at a spot on the wall instead of looking at his questioning face. Does he really not have any idea? I wonder. Somehow that makes it worse, even though I know it should only make it better….

“You looked really pretty,” he says. “I know I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true . . . and you look even prettier now.”

“Shut up,” I huff.

“I’m serious!” he exclaims as I get up and slam the laptop shut. “Don’t be like that, Soph!” he calls after me as I push past him and run down the hall. “We’re set for the month! You don’t have to do this again for a while!”

I lock myself in the bathroom, instantly going to the shower to spray off my oily feet. My skin crawls. I feel so dirty and used. Tears leak down my face as I wash the lotion from me, carefully using my fingers to get rid of the slimy-slick feeling between my toes.

Why the hell did I actually get off to my brother massaging my feet? I don’t understand what just happened, although it felt like I wasn’t myself, like I was trapped in some sort of mindless, wet dream, where everything being done to me was against my will, but I couldn’t help but enjoy it anyway.

When I’m done spraying off my feet, I stare at myself in the mirror, and my breath freezes in my throat.

What the hell? Were my lips always like this? I touch my mouth, feeling alien and unsure as I vaguely remember it being thinner and less pink—although now my lips seem fuller, darker . . . more sensual. I blink at myself. Something about my eyes looks different, too. I’ve always had pretty, blue eyes, but they seem even more vibrant, the lashes thicker and darker. Maybe it’s just from all the blood rushing to my face because of how hard I orgasmed, and how embarrassing that was, because my cheeks also seem fuller and rosier—but I could also be going insane.

“What the fuck is happening?” I ask myself, my hands scrubbing at my face.

I’m probably just in shock from everything that went on today. My older brother—my almost father figure—just made me cum by touching my goddamned feet. I just made over a grand by filming it for all the perverts to see . . . and I’d liked it, not just pretended to like it, but actually liked it . . . like some sort of whore.

So, an existential crisis then? my thoughts taunt me. The vision in the mirror has probably always been me, but I’m just disassociating because I’m so traumatized . . . or something.

Brent leaves me alone for the rest of the day, only texting me the normal stuff (that he’s made lunch, that he’s ordering in for dinner, that he’s going out with his friends and not to expect him home until tomorrow) and I quietly delude myself to believe that although whatever happened between us was extremely weird, that he doesn’t seem to know how fucked up it actually was, and that we can recover from it and move on.

“You made rent for the month,” I tell myself, trying to be happy as I eat the Chinese delivery he’s gifted me. “You don’t have to go on Brainless Bimbos anymore….”

At least not for a long while. And it’s easy to think things are okay, when present me doesn’t have to face them for some time (that’s future Sophie’s problem!). So, I ignore reality, getting lost in my TV shows and slowly blocking out what Brent and I had done. I hardly think of it over the next several weeks, happy that he seems to be just the same brother he’s always been, and happy that I’m not being harassed to help out with the bills, because we seem to have them covered. For now….

===

Like what you’re reading? Need to know what happens next? I don’t blame you! You can find out by grabbing your copy of Bimbofied by Older Brother, by Bimbo Blackwood, from the All These Roadworks store now! (Click here to view in store.)

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Check out the first steamy chapter of "Bimbofied by Older Brother", by Bimbo Blackwood - and then get the complete tale of incest, mind control and bimbofication in the All These Roadworks store!

alltheseroadworks News, Products, Story Collection

ATR Presents: Bimbofied by Older Brother

Her brother’s plan to pay the bills required Sophie to become the sex-doll of his dreams!

Bimbo Blackwood reliably satisfies the interests of All These Roadworks readers. Every book sells strongly, delivering the mix of mind control, incest and bimbofication that you love.

That’s why it’s exciting to announce a new Bimbo Blackwood title is now available in the ATR store: Bimbofied by Older Brother!

(Click here to view Bimbofied by Older Brother in the ATR store!)

This is a new novella-length (33K words) tale of humiliation, exploitation and bimbo transformation, as a brother slowly transforms his sister into the obedient bisexual bimbofied fuckdoll he’s always wanted.

It’s incredibly hot, and it’s got everything you want from a tale of this sort! Grab your copy today – don’t miss out!

(And you can check out other titles by Bimbo Blackwood by clicking here!)

===

Sophie and her brother Brent are struggling to make ends meet after being abandoned by their mother – and now that Sophie’s 18, she knows that she should be doing her part.

But even so, she’s nervous about her brother’s plan – to take photos of her and sell them on the Brainless Bimbos website for money.

He promises that no one will see her face – but breaks that promise almost immediately.  And at first the photos are just of her feet – but soon Brent moves to photographing her in a schoolgirl uniform that shows off her tits… and then lingerie…

And the fans on the website want more.  They want to see her brother massaging her breasts.  They want to see Sophie cumming on camera from her brother’s attention.  They want to see Sophie kiss and fuck her lesbian cousin Melody.

And through it all, something is happening to Sophie’s mind and body.  Is she getting dumber?  Are her tits getting larger, her lips becoming fuller?  Is she somehow becoming more and more of a bimbo with each request she accepts?

How is it happening… and where will it end?

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Bimbofied by Older Brother is an erotic novel of incestuous bimbofication.

This book contains themes of MF and FF sex, incest, mind and body alteration, bimbofication, prostitution, and orientation kink.

As always, my kinks are not my politics. Please enjoy these stories of gender degradation while practicing respect, safety and positive enthusiastic consent in real life.

(Get Bimbofied by Older Brother now!)

Her brother’s plan to pay the bills required Sophie to become the sex-doll of his dreams! Check out "Bimbofied by Older Brother", the hot new tale of incest, mind control and transformation from the erotic pen of Bimbo Blackwood! Available now in the ATR store.

alltheseroadworks Story

Story: Madelyn’s Conservatorship, Part 10

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine

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Madelyn did not entirely like her bedroom, either.

For one thing, she was clearly going to be sharing the room with Avery.  And not just the room, but the bed – for there was only one bed, a lush four-posted canopied king-size bed, decorated with soft pink pillows in satin pillowcases.

Madelyn liked her sister – loved her, in fact – but a teenaged girl needed privacy from time to time.  However, Madelyn was coming to realise that privacy would be in short supply in her new life.

Pink was the general theme of the room.  The carpet was white and fluffy but the walls and furniture were decorated in various shades of pastel pink.  

Madelyn liked pink as well, but in these shades and this quality it felt… infantilising.

Which was almost certainly intentional, because in every other way this was not the bedroom of a pair of teenagers, but rather the bedroom of a child.  There was a large plush teddy bear in one corner – so big that it was larger than Avery – and a small collection of Barbie dolls and their clothes were scattered between its legs.  There was a low table with two child-sized chairs, and on the table was paper, a colouring book, and a set of crayons.  There was a child’s ball on the floor.

On the wall, spelled out in letters of colourful painted wood, were the words “MADELYN ♡ AVERY”.  On the opposite wall were the words “DADDY’S GIRLS”.  There was a bookcase, and Madelyn could see from here that approximately half the books on it were children’s picture books, suitable for children under the age of six, and the other half were hardcore pornographic magazines.

On one wall, up high, was a television screen, which was silently playing a children’s show.  Not a modern one, but rather Princess Bright – a show that had been popular when Madelyn and Avery had been children.  Madelyn could see no way to turn the screen off or change its volume or channel.

Madelyn looked at Uncle Sean in case this was some kind of a joke, although she already knew it wasn’t.  She wanted to complain.  In fact, she wanted to throw a tantrum, and insist that she wouldn’t cooperate with any of this, and that she wanted to go home *right now*.

But for talking back one too many times, Great-Uncle Benjamin had made Avery slap her.  And when she had *really* tried to resist, back at home before getting into the car, they had used that horrid device on her, the one that overrode her brain and turned her into a slut.  Under the influence of that device in Logan’s hands she had pissed into a glass in public and watched another girl drink it, she had sucked off several men in a public toilet, and she had let Logan piss into her mouth and swallowed.  When Great-Uncle Benjamin had used it on her today, she had wet herself in public and then orgasmed from letting her sister play with her pussy while sucking on her pissy panties.

She didn’t want them to use that device on her again.  She didn’t like the person she became.  That Madelyn was a perverted, dirty slut – nothing at all like the real Madelyn.  She was scared of what other nasty, degrading things she might do under the influence of the device.

So she said nothing, and accepted her demeaning new bedroom.

“I knew you girls would love it,” said Uncle Sean.  “Run along in now.”

To Madelyn’s frustration, Avery *did* seem to love the room.

“Look, Madelyn,” she said.  “Isn’t it pretty?  And we’re going to be sharing a room!  It’ll be like a holiday!”

“Now, we need to get you out of those dirty clothes that you’ve been sluts in,” said Uncle Sean.  “I’ll give you some privacy for that.  Just strip down, and put your clothes through the slot in the door here.  Then I’ll unlock the wardrobe and you can get dressed in fresh clothes.”

Madelyn looked at the bedroom door and saw that there was indeed a slot near the floor – probably just wide enough for her to get her arm through, up to the elbow.

She also noticed that the door had a lock on it – and it locked from the outside, not the inside.

“When you’re dressed, you can start your slut diaries,” said Uncle Sean.  He had brought them from the lounge room, and he placed them now on the girl’s bed, along with a pair of pens and the Polaroid cameras.  “And I’ll come find you when it’s time for dinner.”

With that, he left the room, and closed the door.  There was a “click” of the lock turning.

Avery immediately began to get undressed.

“Avery, what are you doing?” said Madelyn.

“Uncle Sean – I mean, daddy – he told us to get undressed,” said Avery.

“You don’t have to *do* it,” said Madelyn.

“But he’s in charge of us now,” said Avery.  “The court said so.  And if we’re bad girls he’ll punish us.”

“Avery, this is *wrong*,” said Madelyn.  “This is perverted.  Uncle Sean doesn’t have our best interests at heart.  He wants to… embarrass us and be cruel to us.”

“Why would he want to do that, Maddy?” asked Avery.  “He’s our uncle – or I guess, our daddy now.”  She already had her top and bra off, exposing her cute tits.

“He’s messed up,” said Madelyn.  “Him and Great-Uncle Benjamin both.  And Logan.  They’re all… perverted weirdos.”

Avery bit her lip.  “Maddy,” she said, “I don’t like slapping you, but Uncle Sean will make me if you keep being difficult.  *Please* be a good girl.”  She pulled off her skirt and wiggled her panties down her legs.

“But…” said Madelyn.

“Maddy, what you did at the bar and in that video… pissing, giving all those boys blowjobs in the toilets… the boys I know call that ‘fatherless behaviour’,” said Avery.  “Sometimes girls get slutty and wild and self-destructive when they don’t have a male role model.  I’ve been trying to be a good girl without daddy, but… I’m worried about you.  I know mom loves us, but… there’s a nude photo of her spreading her pussy in our hallway.  I have a photo of the moment a man knocked her up with me hanging in my bedroom.  I don’t think she’s a good role model, Maddy.”

Madelyn wanted to scream.

“Besides,” said Avery.  “What are you going to do?  Run away, and leave me here?  I need you here, Maddy.”

Avery was right, in a way.  Madelyn didn’t have a lot of other good options.  She had to play along – for Avery’s sake, if nothing else.

“Fine,” she said, and began to undress.

She had to admit that her sister was incredibly beautiful in the nude.  Avery’s smaller tits were still more than enough to fill a bra, but they sometimes made Madelyn self-conscious about her own much larger boobs.  She felt slutty, by comparison to her sister.

Madelyn had to admit she was grateful to remove the wet panties, and then to pull the skirt out of her cunt.  Her pussy felt strangely empty without it.

When they were both nude, Madelyn pushed their clothes through the slot in the door, and then went to the wardrobe.

The door wouldn’t open.  It was magnetically locked, somehow.

“Uncle Sean,” she called, “I mean… daddy.   Can you open the wardrobe?”

“Why don’t you take your photos for the slut diary, girls, and then I’ll open it?” came the reply from through the door.  “Just tell me when you’re done.”

Avery practically bounced.  “Do me first!” she said.

“Do you really *want* to be photographed nude?” asked Madelyn.

“It’s just for us,” said Avery.  “And it’s to help you get better.  Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Uncle Sean had said the first photo in each diary needed to be a full-body nude photo.  Avery pouted cutely as Madelyn picked up the camera and snapped an instant picture of her naked sister.  When the photo printed from the camera, Madelyn set it aside to auto-develop.

“Now your pussy,” she said.

Avery sat on the bed and spread her legs, and then used her fingers to spread her pussy open.  It was an incredibly lewd position and Madelyn felt uncomfortable with it, even though Avery was still beaming with innocent delight.

Every Avery’s clitoris looked cuter than Madelyn’s.  It wasn’t fair.

She took the photo.

“Your turn!” said Avery.

Madelyn stood in front of Avery awkwardly as Avery took the camera.

“Not like that,” said Avery.  “Come on, you’re an influencer.  Do a pose!”

Instinctively, Madelyn moved her right arm under her tits to lift them and pull them together, and used her left hand to give the V-for-victory sign.

Avery snapped the picture.

“Now your pussy!” she said.

Madelyn really didn’t like this, but she had come this far.  She sat on the bed, and parted her legs, and used her fingers to spread her pussy lips.

Avery took the photo.

When the photos were developed, and Madelyn looked at them, she felt a wave of dizziness.

There was something awful about them.  Two pairs of photos, showing two sisters.  In one photo, a vibrant, happy, nude young woman – and in the other, a wet pink hole.  Somehow it felt like everything that Madelyn was, all of her identity and personality, had been reduced to a lewd spread fuckhole designed to make cocks ejaculate into it.

She felt like she might cry.

“Hey, hey, Maddy, it’s okay,” said Avery.  She came over and wrapped her arms around her sister, pressing her bare tits against Madelyn’s side.  

And when Madelyn turned to look at Avery, Avery kissed her.

Not a chaste, sisterly kiss, but a long, passionate lover’s kiss.  Avery’s tongue pushed into Madelyn’s mouth, and in her confused, desperate, miserable state, Madelyn allowed it.  It felt good to receive affection from someone that she trusted absolutely. And after a moment, she met Avery’s tongue with her own, and kissed her sister back.

She felt her pussy getting wet as she kissed, and she hated it.  She hated that she was getting aroused by her own sister.  She hated herself, and she hated her body.

But she didn’t hate Avery.  And so she let the kiss go on.

When Avery finally broke it off, she smiled, and said, “Practicing, right?  Because we’re supposed to do this a couple of times a day.”

Madelyn shook her head.  “It’s wrong, Avery,” she said.  “This is Uncle Sean messing with us.”

“Why is it wrong?” said Avery.  “I just want to make you happy.  And it feels good.  And it’s not like it’s hurting anyone.”

“Sisters shouldn’t kiss,” said Madelyn.  “It’s… slutty.  And besides, we’re not lesbians.”

Avery didn’t seem like she agreed with any of what Madelyn had just said.

“Well, we have to,” Avery replied.  “And we can either feel good about it, or feel dirty and ashamed, and I don’t want to feel dirty and ashamed.  You’re my *sister* and I love you, Madelyn.  Can’t we just enjoy this, seeing as we have to do it anyway?”

Madelyn could feel the edge of hurt in Avery’s voice.  If Madelyn told Avery that she was slutty and dirty for wanting to kiss, Avery would ultimately believe her.  Avery looked up to her big sister in every way.  But where would that get them?  Uncle Sean would still make them kiss, and then Avery would just feel like a disgusting slut every time it happened.  And it would be Madelyn’s fault, in a way.

She sighed.

“No, you’re right,” she said.  “It feels good, and it’s not dirty unless we make it dirty.  I love you, sis, and I guess if we have to kiss anyway we can at least enjoy it.”

Avery beamed.  “That’s good!” she giggled.  “Because I *really* like kissing you.”  She bit her lip, and added, “That thing I did for you in the car… I didn’t mind that either, you know.”

The thing in the car had been masturbation.  Avery had rubbed Madelyn’s clit until Madelyn had orgasmed.  Madelyn was pretty sure that definitely *was* slutty, on both their parts.

“You did it well,” Madelyn conceded.  “It felt good.  And I’m glad it was you rather than Uncle Sean.”

Avery gasped at the idea of Uncle Sean playing with Madelyn’s pussy, and blushed.

Madelyn turned to the door.  “We’re done with the photos, daddy.”

“Good girls,” came the response.  And there was a click, as the wardrobe unlocked.

Madelyn ran to see what was in the wardrobe – and was immediately disappointed by the results.  The only things inside was an elaborate set of white lingerie, complete with stockings, garter belt, and a little white ribbon to go in a girl’s hair – and a single thin oversized T-shirt with the words “DADDY’S GIRL” on it.

“Daddy,” called out Madelyn, “there’s only one set of clothes in here.”

But there was no response.  Uncle Sean had left.

And in her heart, Madelyn knew that there was no mistake.

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Madelyn and Avery discover their new bedroom.