37: The Convent of Sins I Lance kicked in the door to his old home. His hotel was just a dusty ruin. A victim of vandalism and nature. He had expected nothing less. Leon City was a shithole, and the way it treated his property was proof enough. He hoped that at least the inside of the hotel was still untouched. “Sir, we need to hurry,” said one of his men who had freed him from the prison. ...
The Beginning Mark and Elena’s arrangement was supposed to be the gold standard of roommate professionalism. They shared a kitchen, a hallway, and a landlord, but their private lives remained locked behind heavy bedroom doors. They were strangers who simply shared a roof. They were polite, distant, and intensely functional. Then the weekend nights started. Through the thin drywall, Elena began to hear things. It was not just the typical muffled thuds of a college hookup, but the distinct, heavy clinking of metal. She heard chains rattling. She heard the unmistakable, sharp intake of Sarah’s breath, followed by low, helpless moans. In the mornings, Elena would sit at the kitchen island, staring at the red, raw imprints encircling both of their wrists over morning coffee. She could only guess at what happened behind Mark’s door, and the guesswork was turning into a torturous, obsessive itch. ...
The air inside the private development bay of Halcyon BioTech always smelled faintly of burnt ozone and industrial solvent, a sterile baseline that you had spent three years breathing alongside Dr. Marcus Chen. To the rest of the facility, the two of you were an eccentric, highly insular unit—you, the twenty-four-year-old prodigy who had accelerated through a molecular engineering PhD only to realize you were entirely unequipped for the social friction of the ordinary world; Marcus, the senior mentor whose casual brilliance and validating nods were the only currency that truly mattered to your intellectual arrogance. Together, you had birthed the fluid. ...
Chapter 6 July and Lily were sitting on a couch, watching one of their most chaotic and erratic friends calmly sit on the one opposite of them, petting the young woman, who had her hands in one of the most strenuous positions bound behind her back enjoy the attention, fully relaxed with her head in the other woman’s lap. Bouth had watched this picture for the last ten minutes, but still could not believe it. ...
Part Ten After my recent episode with the contractors moving me from the storeroom to the container and leaving me locked away overnight, I thought it best that I didn’t push for any further time as a meatgirl, in case Ollie would not be too happy after what happened. There always seems to be something that doesn’t go to plan when I indulge in my meatgirl fantasy, well, at least some of the time anyway. ...
“Honey, the hell is that?” The “that” I was referring to was obvious: a half scale steel drum on a hand truck that she was wheeling into the house from the garage. She grinned in a way that spoke of triumph and mischief. And Cupid’s arrow pierced my heart like it did every time she smiled at me. Yes, I’m a fool for the love of her. “A surprise. Get the spray booth and the sprayer set up in the play room.” ...
PART ONE ~ 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ Some consider it a travesty, of course. The fate of the human races pinned in stasis, demons and demiurges sat at a pinnacle never intended for their ilk, that sort of thing. True as far as it goes, but not my concern. In fact, I think there’s a beauty in it. The closest to a closed causality the Center of Everything and its hundreds of Attendant Universes has ever known, the center raised above the edges, terrifying cliffs only scalable by those who can adapt to the new reality, order imposed on every world, for ever… beauty in stasis, that’s more in line with my thinking. It’s worked out for me personally, at least in comparison with the previous thousand years of my existence. For all the irreplaceable cultural treasures lost to pillage, some things deserved to be overturned. ...
I struggled not to visually roll my eyes or audibly sigh at what the woman was saying. Despite the bar being full on a Friday evening, and a large collection of voices being all that I could hear, somehow her whining tone seemed louder than anyone else’s; despite not yelling or straining her words. This was the last thing I wanted to do after a full week of work. With the weekend fast approaching and my entire frame aching, all I wanted was to return to the comfort of my home, curl up and read a book, or maybe watch a few movies. I wanted to push out the rest of the world, avoid any forms of human connection and just…relax. As I was leaving work, my plans were interrupted by a text from my oldest friend, a woman who I had known ever since we were at school together, Melanie. She was drunk, already intoxicated by the time I had reached the bar. She had texted me the address with almost no choice but to spend the evening with her and listen to her sorrows. ...
Chapter One: Be Careful What You Wish For Julie Jo “JJ” Johansson looked up from her personal tablet and glanced at the company computer screen in front of her. It still said, “Standby for Transcription.” “Do you think there is any worse job than this?” she asked Marcie Dumont, the only other person in the room despite the fact that there were several dozen transcription stations. “This isn’t that bad,” Marcie answered. “We get paid fairly well for just listening and typing. It’s not like we have to do anything really hard.” ...
Oh God, how did it come to this? For months, Angela had been living out of her battered old Honda Civic. Being fired from her job and evicted from her apartment in the same week had been completely gut-wrenching. The twenty-year-old blonde spent her days filling out job applications on her slowly dying iPhone, washing her clothes at dingy, depressing laundromats, and sneaking into the Planet Fitness locker room for quick showers. ...
11: Stroll “I don’t think this is going to work.” The chastity cage was creating an obvious bulge in my dress. “I guess we could strap it down… between your legs?” she suggested. “Hmm… that’d probably make me walk funny.” We were going for a walk, just around the lake. It was late, not too many people around. “We could go without the cage. But… Do you think you can keep ’things’ under control?” ...
Chapter 1: The edge of the wild Alice felt the familiar weight of her backpack as she stood at the barrier, waiting for the elder to give the word. Twenty-one years Alice had waited for this moment. Each gruelling training session, each moment of hardship, every second of her life had led her to this moment: the trial of the braves. Her parents waved and shouted at her, proud of the woman she had become. A grateful smile curved her lips. Without her mother’s guidance and her father’s brutal training regime, she would never be the girl she is now. She waved at them. Her red hair, braided into a loose dragon braid, bobbed as she did. ...
Chapter 5 As she woke the next morning, Kat’s first reaction was to want to go to the toilet because of the immense pressure in her rear. Then she remembered the last evening, and what she requested Foxy do to her. Remembering not only how much pain she had been in, and how tenderly the other woman had treated her, she could not help, but let out a happy little sigh and cuddle deeper the still sleeping women embrace. ...
Part Nine (No meatgirl was consumed in the making of this story, it is more about being a product than the actual process dealing with the meatgirls - if being treated as an object offends you then please don’t read this story) Not sure how I ended up here, but I find myself being transported in the back of a truck along with many other meatgirls, our bound wrists held above our heads and attached to a hook in the ceiling, my ankles are bound too. I can only make a muffled sound because of the gag in my mouth, but I can see, which is not usually the case when I’ve been a meatgirl in the past; normally, the hood over my head would block out the light. The other meatgirls are all like me, naked and bound, we look at each other, wondering where we are going, some have a fearful look while others seem to be resigned to their fate. ...
10. Sub “Ah! Ow! No, stop. Red. Scrabble.” She tried to look apologetic, but she couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sorry, but… really? After everything I’ve done to you, this is what makes you use the safe word - all the safe words! A little spanking?” What can I say, I always was a bit of a wimp. And actually, “while we’re on the subject of ’everything you’ve done to me’ - well, I’ve just been thinking…” ...
Epilogue Time had abandoned Elise. Time was a river. She had no way of knowing how long she had been trapped within the coffin, only that it had been weeks, months. Perhaps longer. Every moment stretched into eternity, each breath dictated by the rhythm of the machine that sustained her, each motion reduced to the slow, mindless writhing that the needle pads beneath her commanded whenever the club was full. ...
Part 10: Girl Talk Alice woke up with a start. It took her a moment to orient to the fact that she was in Dan’s bed. Then the whole evening crashed back in on her. She looked to her left. Dan was there, snoring quietly. ‘He snores, I never noticed that before,’ she thought. Slipping out of the bed in the gray dawn Alice grabbed her shoes and padded to the bedroom door. She slipped out into the living room, eying the open blinds with trepidation. ‘Oh well, if they didn’t catch the show last night they can get the early matinee,’ she told herself as she moved across the room. ...
Chapter Six - Seven Slaves for Seven Sybians The lights dimmed while the slaves were released and helped out of the arena. Several staff persons dressed in black hurried in and quickly removed the punishment barrels. When the lights came back up, GrandMaster Karl and the two poster holders were in the center of the arena. I don’t know if it was an intentional way of adding a little change or just an accident, but the female in the bright white microkini was now on the GrandMaster’s right, and the beefcake in the black Speedo was on his left. One of the posters said, “10, 10, 10, 8.5, 10.” The other said, “9.5, 9.5, 10, 9, 9.5." Again, lines were drawn under the numbers, and an average presented. On one poster, the average was 9.70. On the other, it was 9.50. ...
Part Eight After the events of the inspector’s visits and my eventual sale to Marjorie, the owner of the old Meatgirl Processing Facility—from which she ran her meatgirl experience, where, if you recall, women got to participate in the old production process that had once converted women into meatgirls before the clone labs took over—I remained at the facility for the next couple of weeks. I joined the other women going through processing, and at night I was used by one or more of the handlers Marjorie employed. ...
36: Arachne Escape Studios “Arachne Escape Studios?” Ava read aloud, grimacing as she looked at the shimmering silver tickets right in front of her. “Exactly!” replied the stranger enthusiastically, waving the tickets animatedly. “We’re currently on our way to becoming the hottest event in the whole city. I’m sure you’ve heard of us!” “Coooooool… But I don’t really have the money for it,” Ava lied, turning back to her economics book. Of course she’d heard of Arachne Escape Studios. The company had popped up overnight a few months ago in an old industrial building and was making one headline after another. Tickets were expensive and hard to come by. An experience not to be missed under any circumstances. However, the name was something that put Ava off, and being locked up by strangers in the first place was something she didn’t necessarily want to experience. Any more than necessary. ...