Only the Good Die Young

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Chelsea stood in the shadow of the great stone and ivy school. It climbed three stories into the sky, scraping the very heavens with the top of its bell tower. She fiddled nervously with the silver purity ring on her finger. Her backpack was heavy. She shifted under the unusual weight of a half dozen text books and note books she had to carry with her now. Her old school had been different. There, Chelsea had only to carry a single book. The Good Book. She swallowed and tried to stem the tidal wave of fear that threatened to engulf her. Her hands shook. A pair of students jostled her as they passed, laughing in a way that was too sharp and grating. Suddenly, Chelsea's fear vanished in a flash of hot anger. //How dare they laugh when I'm so scared,// she thought. She knew that the thought had been illogical, but it came all the same. Quickly, she asked God for forgiveness, and then the fear returned again. A bell rang crisp and clear through the morning air. Chelsea shouldered her pack, whispered a prayer for strength, and went inside. [[Once more unto the breach...]]

<<if $bimbo == 1>> <img src="http://66.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lu5yfeVKff1qblw13o1_500.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <<elseif $bimbo == 2>> <img src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/0d/d2/a0/0dd2a062f8e4cd0ad306ab416ff6b084.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <<elseif $bimbo == 3>> <img src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SMrJDrQN7gA/VUZtrvrh8WI/AAAAAAAAgHQ/iY3wNOKTwEU/s1600/20.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <<elseif $bimbo == 4>> <img src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/0b/ba/5b/0bba5b117bae1cbd7e54a2363fa51308.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <<elseif $bimbo == 5>> <img src="http://vipdevki.tv/uploadimg/09_14/02/vipdevki_net_xhnljtjpll.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <</if>> <<if $namenumber gte 5>> Chelsea Bechman <<else>> Churchey Bochman <</if>>

Perhaps the strangest thing about Chelsea's English instructor, Mr. Sprinkle, was that there was nothing outwardly strange about him. Bald in his late twenties, Mr. Sprinkles had the countenance of a man that realized he had made a mistake by becoming a teacher, but figured he was too far gone to change. He spoke in an unyielding monotone voice, and possessed a unique and thorough lack of interest in his subject material; a lack of interest that was rivaled, but never surpassed, by his students. It wasn't his fault, of course. His hatred was merely due to the fact that nineteenth century literature is and was terrible. But that was ok, for Mr. Sprinkle didn't get into teaching out of a love for poorly paced books, but rather out of passion a for a little known art form that'd originated in Japan: harem anime. A passion stymied repeatedly by the PTA. But this was neither here nor there. Mr. Sprinkle stood at the front of his class when $firstname wandered in. He eyed her with an indifferent stare as she took her seat. On the board he'd drawn a wide circle around the word Romeo, an equally wide circle around the word Juliet, and connected the two with an arrow titled 'loves'. $firstname hadn't the faintest clue as to what it was supposed to mean. "We have a new addition to our number," Sprinkle said dryly. He frowned at a clipboard. "Bochman. Churchey Bochman. Do you want to introduce yourself to the class?" "[[Oh! I am fortune's fool!]]" "[[I defy you, stars!]]"

Slowly, $firstname rose to her feet. She walked down aisles of staring students. Their heads turned to track her as she passed. She reached the front and turned around to face the thirty pairs of judging eyes. A lump formed in her throat, and she felt herself break into a cold sweat. "Chelsea Bechman," she croaked finally, shooting the balding man a frown. Mr. Sprinkle blinkled thoroughly, but otherwise didn't respond. "And I'm from a little town in Georgia. I like Jesus, and knitting, and when the mood strikes me I'll do a bit of scrap booking." She shifted uneasily on her feet. "I've never been out of my home town before," she continued. "But after the divorce, my dad needed to find work and we couldn't keep the house. I don't know where my momma--" "Thank you, Miss. Bochman for that introduction," Mr. Sprinkle interrupted. $firstname went back to her seat and tried to sink deep into the hard plastic chair, as if becoming part of the furniture could banish her embarrassment. "Today we will watch a masterpiece of the late nineties, and I'll thank all of you for keeping this from the uncultured swine on the PTA." The balding instructor pulled a sticky VHS tape from his desk and inserted it into the VCR. Broken English singing screeched from the CRT television as the Love Hina logo emblazoned itself across the screen. Mr. Sprinkle settled back in his chair as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. [[At least it's not Sailor Moon.]]

Thirty pairs of eyes shifted to $firstname. Her hands trembled beneath her desk, and she felt herself break into a cold sweat. Her breath came ragged. She shook her head furiously, locking her eyes onto the hard wood desktop in front of her. A crumpled piece of paper struck $firstname in the back of her head. She stared harder into the wood, tracing its grains with her eyes. "Whatever, it's up to you," Mr. Sprinkle said dully, ignoring the thrower. $firstname tried to sink deep into her hard plastic chair as if becoming part of the furniture could banish her embarrassment. "Today we will watch a masterpiece of the late nineties, and I'll thank all of you for keeping this from the uncultured swine on the PTA." The balding instructor pulled a sticky VHS tape from his desk and inserted it into the VCR. Broken English singing screeched from the CRT television as the Love Hina logo emblazoned itself across the screen. Mr. Sprinkle settled back in his chair as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. <> <<set $name = "Churchey Bochman">> <<set $firstname = "Churchey">> <<set $lastname = "Bochman">> <<set $namenumber = 2>> <> [[At least it's not Sailor Moon.]]

By the end of period, $firstname could say with absolute confidence that Japanese animation, or Japanimation, was a tool of the homosexuals and Jews. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Heresy always made her skin crawl. "Time has not been kind to Love Hina," God whispered in her ear. "Still, the show was defining for its day, and there was a time when no true fan of the harem genre hadn't seen it." He sounded almost wistful. God spoke to her sometimes. $firstname had no idea why, nor did she much care. The greatest prophets in the bible heard the Lord's voice, and if $firstname had to pay for that privelage with hearing some of the Lord's more inane or offensive sayings then so be it. She never responded. $firstname had learned a long time ago that speaking to God made other people look at her funny. "Homework for tonight is episode twelve through twenty-four," Mr. Sprinkle drawled as his students packed up their bags. Everyone seemed to ignore him, though. On her way to her next class, $firstname managed to get herself lost. The school's layout was confusing. A warning bell rang overhead, and $firstname broke into a jog. Her sneakers squeeked against the polished linoleum. Suddenly, a yelp from a passing bathroom tugged on her ear. It sounded almost like a woman in pain, but not, as if she wanted more of whatever was causing it. $firstname paused before the bathroom door, her hand hovering over the handle. [[What's Going on in this Thread?]]

<<return>>

Slowly, $firstname pushed open the bathroom door. Poorly oiled hinges squeeked, but the voices eminating from the farthest stall continued unbroken. A loud slurping sound filled the bathroom. $firstname crept close, holding her breath. The sudden sound of flesh smacking flesh echoed against the bathroom walls. The woman moaned. Her mouth sounded like it was full of something, very full, and the slurping grew louder. $firstname drew up alongside the crack between the stall door and the wall as silent as a ghost. She pressed her eye against the gap, gasping in surprise. A girl's blonde head bobbed along a muscular boy's cock. Her eyes were closed, and she gripped the dick with a practiced hand. She moaned from deep within her throat. Her other hand had crawled its way between her legs, and from it came a wet schlicking sound. Tiny drops of lubricate darkened spots on the tile floor. The boy pawed at her exposed breasts, eliciting tiny yelps and pleasurable sighs at his touch. A feeling $firstname never had before began grow between her legs. It was a warmth, a need, and it seemed to urge her to do... something. She bit her lip, startled by the sudden burst of pleasure that small pain brought her. The boy's grip on the blonde girl's head tighted as she quickened her pace. The muscles on his legs twitched, and she lifted her mouth off the cock with a pop as a spray of white fluid painted her chin. He let out a low groan. The whole thing caught $firstname by surprise. She reeled back, tripping over her own feet and falling to the linoleum with a yelp of pain. "Is someone there?" the boy called. [[Bravely run away!]] [[Like the noble ostrich, I will hide]]

$firstname leapt to her feet and ran to the door, throwing it open with a crash. She heard the sound of the stall door opening behind her, and the boy's heavy footfalls as he came at her at a run. His shoes clunked against the linoleum floor. "Stop!" the boy called. But she didn't. Driven by fear, she slammed the bathroom door behind her and took off down the hallway and around the corner. Her chest heaved at the exertion. The boy's footfalls grew faint behind her. Eventually though, her muscles could take her no farther, and she came to a stop panting into her knees. The halls around her were abandoned, but at the very end of one she spied what looked like her next class. The late bell sounded overhead. With a sigh, $firstname trumped her way to gym. [[No time to say hello! Good bye! I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!]]

Looking around frantically, $firstname ducked in the neighboring stall and bolted it with a loud click. She tried and failed to stifle her ragged breathing. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, and disturbingly $firstname knew it wasn't all due to fear. That irritating warmth nestled itself between her thighs. "Where is she?" the blonde asked. "She's in this stall. I can see her feet," the boy said. "I can't believe she thought hiding would work." He tried the handle, and the stall door bent at his pull. "Come on out. You won't like it if I have to come in there." [[No! Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!]]

"Then I'll huff." The boy yanked at the door. "And I'll puff." The door bent. "And I'll blow your house down!" The cheap Chinese made screws creaked and popped from their places, skittering across the tile. With a grunt of strenth, he ripped the door from its frame and threw it across the bathroom. He grabbed $firstname by the wrist and dragged her from hr perch on the toilet. Air fled her lungs as he slammed her against the wall. "Spying is wrong," he said, pressing himself against her. "It deserves a proper punishment." The boy nibbled lightly on her neck. $firstname moaned. She had no idea where the sound came from, but it came all the same. A bulge from the boy began to grow and press against the inside of her thigh. It radiated warmth, and $firstname found herself wanting to touch it, to feel its length in the palm of her hand. Her pussy screamed at her. "I think she likes it," the blonde girl said with a grin. But the boy didn't answer. He traced his hand along the flat of $firstname's stomach, lifting her skirt and diving into her underwear. His fingers rubbed along the outside of her slit, and $firstname shivered in pleasure. She moaned again, louder this time, and she felt her struggle weaken. She let herself go slack against the wall, allowing the boy's overwhelming strength to pin her in place. The pulsing warmth between $firstname's legs built with every shift of the boy's hand. It grew and grew until there seemed to be nothing else outside of it, and then, when it reached its apex, it all came crashing down. $firstname's muscles tightened, and she cried out in her first shrieking orgasm. The bathroom walls echoed with her screams. The boy released her, and $firstname fell and panted into the tile. Her vision swam. Her legs felt weak. But she was satisfied, more satisfied than she'd ever felt in her life. It was like the boy's fingers had scratched an itch $firstname had been carrying for years, but had never known she'd had. "If you tell anybody about us I'll make the next year a living hell," the blonde girl whispered sweetly in her ear. $firstname nodded dully. She couldn't quite piece together a coherant thought yet, but she was certain that she had to agree to whatever the girl asked of her. The late bell found $firstname lying the bathroom floor in a puddle of her own juices. Unsteadily, she climbed to her feet and examined herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, and her face and body felt like it was covered in a thick film of dried sweat. She smelled of sex. A sink, a mirror, and a good fifteen minutes of pruning meant $firstname left bathroom looking somewhat presentable. She checked a clock ticking on the wall. "Crackerjacks!" she muttered, taking of down the hall. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[No time to say hello! Good bye! I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!]]

$firstname's gym teacher, Mr. Pile, had a thing for a short shorts. He pulled them off, too, with legs built like thick tree trunks and calves that bulged with muscle. Frankly, his zealous dedication to leg day was disturbing, and some said that it had lead in part to his divorce from wife who sat on the PTA. $firstname didn't believe those rumors though. To think a person could marry someone from the PTA in the first place was ridiculous. Their vows were eternal. For a shirt, Mr. Pile had torn the sleeves off of a white button up. His muscular forearms shone in the noon day sun. $firstname licked her lips as she traced their sharp definition with her eyes, and she felt the same tingle she'd felt in the bathroom began to stir in groin. He'd left the buttons on his shirt undone, and the tone and tight definition of his arms was matched by that of his abs. $firstname felt an urge to touch them, to run her hand along the man's taut muscles. She brutally repressed the desire. Mr. Pile had set himself up on a lawn chair next to the track. He sipped from a tall glass of iced tea beside a bright yellow beach umbrella. The sprinklers ran on the field in front of him, soaking through the shirts of the dozen or so girls running laps. "Slowly, ladies! Slowly!" Mr. Pile shouted from his chair. "Julia! Show off your growth spurt and put more of a bounce in your step." "Mr. Pile?" $firstname muttered, struggling to still the quiver in her voice. He looked $firstname up and down, raising his sunglasses and frowning at her. "You must be the new girl," he said. "Why are you late?" [[Tattle]] [[Blame incompetence]]

$firstname took a deep breath and summoned all of her rage. "Carnal activity in the restroom!" she thundered. A few of the girls stopped and looked at her strangely, but she paid them little mind. "What are you going on about?" Mr. Pile asked. He sipped slowly from his tall glass of iced tea. Beads of condensation dripped down the glass' side. "Sin on school property!" $firstname roared. "I witnessed a man and woman engaged in premarital sexual relations!" Her voice grew steadily louder as she continued. "You saw two students doing the nasty?" "Indeed!" The gym teacher frowned under his sunglasses. "This is very serious. Tell me exactly what happened." $firstname blushed. Just thinking about the boy and the girl in the bathroom sent a jolt of confusing pleasure coursing down her spine. "I heard a woman moan while looking for class," she began. "I investigated, and she had him in her mouth." "There was no penetration?" "No, Mr. Pile." He nodded sagely. "Then there is no problem. There are certain activities that righteous students can perform to relieve tension. What you saw was one of them." "So it wasn't of sin?" "Of course not! In fact, it's encouraged. A woman's hands, her mouth, her butt, and her tits, those are the tools the lord gave her to stay true. The more she uses them the less likely she will sin in other ways." That made sense to $firstname. "So the blonde girl was merely assisting the boy in his fight against satan? No sinning occurred?" "Now you're getting it." He grinned a grin that was too white to be natural. "Unfortunately, your tardiness demands punishment. Present yourself at my office after school for detention." "Yes, Mr. Pile," $firstname said. "Thank you for clearing that up." He waved her away, turning back to watch the girls running laps while $firstname ducked into the locker room to change. <> <<if $detention == 0>> [[Detention|Detention 1]] <<elseif $detention == 1>> [[Detention|Detention 2]] <<elseif $detention == 2>> [[Detention|Detention 3]] <<elseif $detention == 3>> [[Detention|Detention 4]] <<elseif $detention == 4>> [[Detention|Detention 5]] <</if>> <>

$firstname's voice quivered as her mouth struggled to force words over a lump that'd formed in her throat. "I'm sorry, Mr. Pile. I couldn't find the class." Mr. Pile frowned from under his sunglasses. He looked her up and down again, examing her like she was a particularly stupid cut of meat. "You couldn't find the giant field in the middle of the school." "No, Mr. Pile." "The field that is visible from every window on campus?" $firstname frowned. Now that she thought about it, she recalled seeing a vast field of green while running through the halls searching for the gym. Countless students ran across it, and at its edge had been a large and obvious building with the word 'Gym' emblazoned in bright, brass letters. She'd dismissed it at the time, thinking that nobody would hide such a hard to find building in such an obvious place. Mr. Pile massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "If it weren't your first day," he muttered under his breath. "Get in uniform. You've missed enough class. What are you waiting for? Go!" $firstname locked eyes with the ground but didn't move. "Mr. Pile, what do you call it when a woman takes a man's... thing in her mouth?" The gym teacher smiled a smile that was far too white to be natural. "A blowjob, little miss. Why do you ask?" $firstname swallowed. //Blowjob,// she thought, forming the word silently on her tongue. "Is it a sin?" "Of course not!" Mr. Pile roared with a great laugh. "In fact, it's encouraged. There are certain activities a righteous student can perform to relieve tension. God gave women her hands, her tits, her ass, and her mouth, so that she might use them to stay true. The more she puts them to use the less likely she will sin in other ways." $firstname nodded slowly. That seemed to make sense. He smiled warmly at her. "Get in uniform, little miss." [[After School]]

The shock of her detention stayed with $firstname for the rest of the day. She'd never been in trouble before. $firstname was Daddy's little girl, and she trembled at the disapointed look he'd give her when he found out. Twice she excused herself from class to vomit in the bathroom, and by the end of school she was next to tears. Her hand trembled as she laid it on the wood door to Mr. Pile's office. $firstname knocked lightly, hoping against hope that he wouldn't answer. The door opened almost instantly. Mr. Pile smiled a big white smile. "Well hello there, little miss. I'm glad you could make it on time for this at least." He shut the door behind her with an ominous click. "Seat yourself in the corner over there. Your time will begin as soon as you're silent." Images of punishment, of flagellation, switching, and beatings, flashed through $firstname's mind. She imagined Mr. Pile pounding her behind with a cane until it was as red as the ass of a babboon. A cold sweat broke out on $firstname's forehead. She gulped loudly. The gym teacher returned to his desk and began marking papers. The clock over his head ticked with a loud regularity. She watched the present slip into the past; first five minutes, then ten, and fifteen. $firstname shifted uncomfortably in her hard plastic seat. Time dragged as the second hand of the clock seemed to move slower and slower with every passing second. Finally, $firstname could take it no longer. She cleared her throat. "Sir, how long am I supposed to sit here?" Mr. Pile looked up from his paper. "Two hours. You will sit silently in that seat for two full hours, and each time you speak I will reset your time." "Oh," she said, sinking lower in her chair. Mr. Pile returned to his papers. The ticking clock grew louder. She squirmed in her seat. $firstname traced a bit of grafiti some previous student had carved into the hard plastic chair with her finger. She tried to take her mind off the clock, off its infernal passage of time, but it was always there, always ticking. She picked idly at piece of fuzz that clung tightly to them hem of her dress. Realization struck her like a falling anvil. //What's daddy going to say when he comes home and I'm not there?// "Mr. Pile?" $firstname whispered. The gym teacher sighed and reset the clock on his desk with a beep. "Yes, little miss?" "I can't stay here for two hours. I need to get hom before my dad gets back from work or else I'll be in trouble." "You shouldn't have gotten detention then," he answered. Mr. Pile restarted the timer and returned to his papers. $firstname grit her teeth. "It's my first week, Mr. Pile. This is unfair!" He threw his pen onto his desk with an exasperated sigh. "Fine! You can either spend ten minutes on my lap or two in that chair. It's up to you." He glared at her with barely contained frustration. <<set $detention = 1>> [[Ten minutes isn’t so bad…]]

$firstname let out a low sigh. The day had been long. She massaged her shoulder, gently working out a knot that'd formed there sometime around lunch. Her back ached. The hard plastic seats didn't lend themselves well to comfort. With a grunt, she shouldered her backpack and went down the school steps and across the green and off the grounds. A thick bush rose behind a chain link fence on her left shielding the campus from view. Laughter floated from the other side of the bush. "New girl's pretty cute," a girl's voice said. $firstname ducked behind the bush and peered around the corner. Half a dozen girls in matching cheer uniforms stood in a circle passing between themselves a lit cigarette. "You say that about all the new girls, Gabby," a pretty girl responded. With her snooty expression and bright blonde hair, she looked every bit the cheerleader found in every teen romantic comedy ever. "You like 'em pretty and wide eyed." "This one's different, Stacy. There's something about her. She's just so... innocent." "Not really my type," Stacy answered. "That's because you swallow cock like water," Gabby said. The group chuckled at that. "You haven't known innocence since primary school." "Only one cock," Stacy said with a strained smile. "And it plays football. Not everyone can be satisfied munching carpet. Some of us need a real meal now and again." "You best take care to curb your apetites," Gabby said with an equally strained smile. She poked at Stacy's slight paunch with her finger. "Methinks you've been sneaking snacks, both on the field and in the kitchen." Stacy's face reddened. "I suppose you're going to want to invite her to cheer try outs tomorrow. You always do with the new ones." "I suppose I do," Gabby said. She cupped her her mouth and looked directly at where $firstname was hiding. "Hey new girl! Cheer tryouts after school tomorrow. Be there." $firstname near jumped out of her skin. "O-ok," she called back. Gabby nodded and returned back to the group. She seemed to forget $firstname even existed. Hesitantly, $firstname began to walk home, thinking over what she'd just agreed to. [[Home]]

"I'll do it," $firstname squeeked softly. Anything was better than sitting in that hard plastic seat for two hours. Mr. Pile scooted out his chair and patted a muscular thigh. She got up slowly and walked to him, balancing herself at the farthest edge of his knee. Suddenly, he wrapped his thick arms around her waist and pulled her over his groin. "No cheating," he whispered hotly in her ear. His lap was remarkably comfortable. It radiated a kind of pleasant warmth, and after a bit of shifting, $firstname found that her ass seemed molded to sit in a man's lap; like fitting a properly sized puzzle piece into another. She sighed and leaned back against his hard chest, closing her eyes as the world seemed to slip away around her. Mr. Pile's breath danced gently across a few strands of her hair on the nape of her neck. Something began to grow beneath her. It was long, and hard, and stiff, and it swelled to an alarming size. It slotted itself in the crack of her ass, and somehow made the seat even more comfortable. There was just something right about having it there. She shifted along its length, enjoying the way the stiff thing rubbed and prodded, stimulating her in a pleasant but unfamiliar way. Almost without $firstname's notice, Mr. Pile's hands rose to cup the underside of breasts. The touch sent a jolt of pleasure tearing from her nipples. It made thinking hard. Her head swam, and her breath came in ragged gasps. "Stop," she said in a breathy whisper. "You're not supposed to touch there." "If you don't like it then you can go sit in the chair," Mr. Pile said. He pinched her nipples lightly, and $firstname squeeled. A burst of intense pleasure drove thoughts of standing from her mind. His arms were so strong. //Just a few minutes more,// she justified. Her panties felt slick. $firstname's breath came in short gasps. She squirmed now, rubbing herself along the strange organ with an intensity that frightened her. She needed it. She wanted it. $firstname opened her mouth and moaned. Something began to build within her. The timer on Mr. Pile's desk rang. "You're free to go," he said, releasing her. "Don't let me see you in here again." $firstname rose unsteadily to her feet. Her knees wobbled under her weight. She mumbled a few words and stumbled out of the office and into the hall. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <> <<if $day == 1>> [[After School]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Cheer Tryouts.]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Into the mall!]] <<elseif $day == 4>> <<if $bimbo == 4>> [[Home Fail 4]] <<else>> [[Home Success 4]] <</if>> <<elseif $day == 5>> <<if $bimbo == 5>> [[Home 5-- Fall]] <<else>> [[Home 5 Success]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

$firstname's father stood before the stove stirring a pot with a wooden spoon. A can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup sat open beside him. He clutched a small glass half filled with an amber fluid. Ice clinked lightly against its walls. He sipped from it, swaying unsteadily as he did so. //Honour thy father,// she thought. A small spark of life returned to his eyes when he noticed her. "Hello, sweety. Sit yourself down. Dinner will be ready in a minute." $firstname went to the kitchen table and cleaned off a spot. Months of mail and T.V. dinner boxes covered it, and even though she tried her best, a few piles of envelopes still teetered and fell to the floor. $firstname left them there. They were in good company. Her father placed a bowl of soup in front of her. Chunks of chicken floated slowly in the yellow broth. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "You are the best thing in my life," he slurred in her ear. The strong smell of booze mixed with sweat and piss struck her nose, and she had to struggle to keep herself from recoiling. "I love you too, Daddy," $firstname said with a strained smile. He smiled back and took his seat next to her. Reaching into a nearby pile of magazines, he pulled out a half filled bottle of scotch and topped off his glass. "I don't like you drinking, Daddy." "But I'm not drinking," her father said. He put the glass to his lips and drained it in a single long gulp. Only half melted ice cubes remained. "I drank. There's a difference." $firstname couldn't fault his logic. "I guess so..." "That's Daddy's special girl!" he said with a triumphant hiccup. Then he planted his face into his bowl of soup. Small bubbles of air rose to the surface around his ears. $firstname sighed and gently pulled his head out of the soup and replaced it on the table, piling a few envelops and magazines under it for a pillow. She threw a blanket from the living room over his shoulders. "Why, Betty?" he mumbled in his sleep. "Why is beige so much more beautiful than our love?" "I don't know, Daddy," $firstname whispered. She kissed him gently on the forehead. He tasted like soup. [[Night|Night 1]]

Stacy was a blonde cheerleader-- the kind that seems to come prepackaged with every high school football team. She laughed the loudest, and her jokes always had a biting edge to them. Even her compliments tasted of acid. Stacy would be the tallest tree in the forest, even if it meant cutting the top off every other. Stacy stood across from Gabby, who seemed to be the only girl in the group that could hope to challenge her. They were about as different as different could be. Gabby, her tattoos and jet-black hair creating an unapproachable front, possessed an almost friendly smile. Her eyes were soft when she spoke, and whereas Stacy strove to tear the other members of the group down, Gabby was always there to pick them back up.

Spartan would not be too strong a word to describe $firstname's room. Nestled at the top of the stairs and overhanging the garage, its only ornament was a single wooden cross hanging over her bed. A beige 90's era computer sat on a bare desk next to a wood chair she'd pilfered from the dining room. The room's wood floor had been scraped and scrubbed clean, and her bed was made with sheets and blanket pulled tight. Not a crease showed. She collapsed on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. To take her mind off things, she tried to count the bumps in the dry wall, but lost her place before she'd gone too far. With a sigh that spoke of boredom, she rose intent on busying herself. $firstname usually spent each evening on her knees in earnest prayer. Her relationship with God was the most important thing to her. <> <<if $pray == 0>> [[Pray|Pray 1]] <<elseif $pray == 1>> [[Pray|Pray 2]] <<elseif $pray == 2>> [[Pray|Pray 3]] <<elseif $pray == 3>> [[Pray|Pray 4]] <</if>> <> But then, she didn't much feel like praying today. She'd seen too much. Memories of Mr. Pile's touch, the feel of his hands cupping her breasts and the firm staff that'd grown beneath her... it stimulated $firstname in a way that she was unfamiliar with. A voice urged her to explore the feeling further. <> <<if $explore == 0>> [[Explore|Explore 1]] <<elseif $explore == 1>> [[Explore|Explore 2]] <<elseif $explore == 2>> [[Explore|Explore 3]] <<elseif $explore == 3>> [[Explore|Explore 4]] <</if>> <> But cheer tryouts were tomorrow. Did she even want it? Just a few hours prior she hadn't known what a cheerleader even was, but now she'd comitted herself to showing up, and in front of the two most popular girls in school no less. $firstname sighed in frustration. It would be a good idea to go over her outfit for tomorrow so that she could put her best foot forward. <> <<if $model == 0>> [[Model|Model 1]] <<elseif $model == 1>> [[Model|Model 2]] <<elseif $model == 2>> [[Model|Model 3]] <<elseif $model == 3>> [[Model|Model 4]] <</if>> <>

In the far flung corner of $firstname's room was her closet. Originally, when she'd first moved in, it'd been a miserable thing; walk in though it was, the closet had been infested with countless spiders. She'd done her best to clear out the arachnids and patch the bare copper electrical wires that hung from the ceiling-- her father had helped her with that on one of his quasi-sober days. With a bit of elbow grease and faith, she'd transformed the spider infested cave into a glorious chapel. $firstname hung christmas tree lights along the closet's border and pasted no less than eighty pictures of Jesus Christ on its walls, covering them like a coat of paint. Most of the pictures were torn straight from a pile of Watchtower magazines she'd found moldering behind a Ralph's. What's a little dumpster diving to a true Christian? $firstname fell to her knees on the hardwood floor and folded her hands. She didn't allow herself a pillow; pain was what made prayer work. That's what children with cancer didn't understand: they could pray all they wanted to for a cure, but unless they backed it up self mutilation, God would do nothing. The closet held a rusty nail for just that purpose. As $firstname began reciting the day's transgressions, she pressed the nail against her skin and drew a thin, red line across her thigh. Blood welled in its wake. She bit her lip and continued reciting her prayer. "Forgive me father for I have sinned." With every cut and every confession, she felt a little bit of impurity drain away.

A ravenous need pulsed between her thighs. It was almost a compulsion. Her hand trembled. It circled lazily around her belly button, sliding lower and lower with every pass. She still felt Mr. Pile's hands on her breasts. He had been so rough, so cruel, yet she yearned to feel more. Her breathing grew heavy, and she felt beads of perspiration begin to dot her forehead. The room was too hot. Far too hot. $firstname didn't care. Her hand slipped below the line of her panties, and she let out a sharp intake of breath when her fingers found someplace sensitive. //That felt too good,// she thought. $firstname pulled her hand back slightly. She wasn't touching the sensitive place, but her fingers weren't out of her panties either. Not entirely. Was the feeling a trick? A ruse by Satan to corrupt her? A sudden burst of arousal decided it. //I need this,// she thought with a ravenous snarl. Her fingers dove back to her pussy, to that sensitive that sent ripples of sensation coursing along her veins. She lifted her hips off the bed and thrust them against her hand, matching force with force. Her other hand found her tits and she squeezed. Pain mixed with pleasure until there was no difference. Her lips let loose a barely audible mew of pleasure. The hunger grew and grew until it consumed every piece of her. $firstname's only thought, her only need, was to feed that ravenous desire. Her breath came in ragged gasps now. The wet schlick of her hand sliding along her dripping cunt filled the room. Sweat streamed off of her in rivulets, soaking her sheets in the smell of sex. Then it all came crashing down. $firstname's mouth opened in a silent scream. The strongest sensation she had ever felt, stronger than the light of the Lord, coursed through her in a burning wave of trembling pleasure. Her hunger swallowed all of it. It took everything; every scrap of herself she could feed it. And then her mind went white. She floated slack upon a gentle cloud as the room slowly drew into focus. She panted into her sweat soaked sheets. //Was that an orgasm?// she thought. //That was incredible.// The hunger wasn't sated. It still pulsed, beckoning her with its siren's promise of endless pleasure. "More," she whispered, eagerly thrusting her hand back into her dripping panties. <<set $explore = 1>> $firstname didn't stop until the false light of dawn climbed its way over the horizon. She collapsed for the final time and felt sleep pull at edge of her mind. Dimly she was aware that she hadn't said her evening prayers. With a mental shrug, she turned over and went to sleep. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

//Something pretty,// $firstname thought. //Something that will impress the other girls.// She threw open her dresser and tossed a pile of clothes onto her bed. She held each up in turn, mentally donning them. Most of her shirts came from church picnics and fundraisers, and her dresses came from whatever her father thought was appropriate. He had the taste of a ninety year old woman. None of it would do for tomorrow, though. She picked up and tossed away a Pray Away the Gay shirt with a shake of her head. Another shirt that was three sizes too large and read, 'My Dad Can Beat Up Your Dad,' over a stick figure kneeling before a cross followed it into the rejection pile. $firstname tossed a few more shirts after it. The final piece on the bed was a simple burlap sack cut in the shape of a dress with the words 'Idaho Potato' painted across the front in bold black letters. It was her favorite. Her old stand by. With a disgusted snort, $firstname chucked it into the rejection pile. //If I don't have any decent clothes then I'll just have to buy some new ones.// $firstname giggled. She went to the old computer in the corner of her room. Her mother had bought it at a yard sale because she'd liked its color, but had never understood quite what it was for. $firstname had. She liked to argue with Mormons and Protestants on the internet. That seemed to be a good enough use for it as any. $firstname pulled up a dozen different shopping sites and began dumping outfit after outfit into her shopping cart. Each seemed more risque than the last. Years ago her father had given her a credit card. He'd told her to, 'Only use it for an emergency.' Well, $firstname would certainly call the state of her wardrobe an emergency. //That one's cute,// she thought as she ordered a complicated looking bra and panties combo. A dress short enough to show her calves followed it. The number on the upper right hand corner rang up into the hundreds. She completed the order with a pair of black pumps, and some makeup, and a cute pair of earings she found on sale. She didn't have her ears pierced, but that was an easy fix. <<set $model = 1>> Day faded into night. Crickets took up their nightly orchestra, but $firstname paid them no mind. She had eyes only for the screen, only for the next item on her shopping list. She moved like a woman possessed. The dark walls of her room echoed with the sharp click of her mouse. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

Morning came far too soon, and with it all the potential offered by another day. "Screw that," $firstname mumbled half asleep. She pulled the covers over her head and shrank into a tighter ball. "Tomorrow can make do without me." But tomorrow had a different idea. As soon as $firstname managed slip back to sleep, the sun shifted the few degrees needed for maximum discomfort. It shone directly into her closed eyes, and even the thickness of her blanket couldn't hold back its light. She groaned and rolled onto her back. Her mouth tasted like the scrapings off a midget's foot. Her joints popped, protesting their very existence. <<set $day = 2>> With great reluctance, she rolled out of bed and began the long process of making life tolerable again. <> <<if $transformed == 1>> <<if $slut lte 2>> <<set $bimbo = 1>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 2>> <<if $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 3>> <<if $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 4>> <<if $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

$firstname had never injected a marijuana before, nor did she intend to, but her rejection of all things drugs didn't stop the school parking lot from smelling like Woodstock. PTA storm troopers paced the school halls with slaughter hounds panting at their sides, but even they only discovered the tenth part of the canabis secreted in nooks and alcoves across the campus. The smell was too pervasive. They stopped $firstname herself three times on her long walk through the halls. Once for a routine weapons search, and then twice more because she'd accidentally leaned against some locker or fake wall in which a student had hidden a dime bag. The residual smell alone sent the slaughter hounds into a frenzy. The late bell rang sometime in the middle of $firstname's final cavity search, and the jackbooted storm trooper handed her a note excusing her of tardiness before marching off with foaming dog in tow. $firstname frowned at the piece of paper. Chunks of letters written in the blood of the tardy flaked off as the fluid dried. If she doddled for too long the words would become illegible. She quickened her step up the stairs leading to the third floor. Somewhere far below, a door opened and shut with metalic slam. Heavy shoes on concrete echoed in the empty stairwell. $firstname looked down. The muscular boy from the bathroom the day before smiled at her. "Oh hello there," he said, climbing to her landing. He stepped close. "My name's Chad Chaddington and I'm kind of a big deal." He really was a big deal. A small cotton shirt strained to contain his chiseled chest. Toned forearms tensed and relaxed, drawing $firstname's eyes like a rock to Earth, and a thin dustings of unshaved stubbled darkened his jaw and lip. It outlined his already strong features. $firstname shrank into the corner. She marveled at his calloused hands as he brushed a strand of hair out of her eye. He smelled of leather, iron, and sweat, and the potent concoction sent her head swimming. A dribble of lubricant made its way down the inside of her thigh. She felt thirsty. Her hands trembled as she molded her body to suit his. Chad wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close. $firstname put a hand to chest to stop him. He paused with his lips inches from hers. [[Well, he is kind of cute.]] [[How dare you!]]

"Pleased to meet you," $firstname mumbled. Chad's pressed his lips to her neck. He bit lightly, and she let out a small moan. The pain sent a rush to her pussy; her head seemed to swim in hormones. She pulled him close to her, dragging his hips to press against hers. His comfortably sized bulge grew against her thigh. Her throat felt dry, and her breath came in ragged gasps. Chad's hands roamed to her breasts. He cupped them, and $firstname let loose a low moan. "Please," she mumbled. "I don't even know you." Chad answered with a bite. Something grew within her. Something powerful, and she greeted the feeling with open arms. //What's happening to me?// she thought, but a sudden flood of sensation drove it from her mind. She opened her mouth in a silent scream, feeling the apex coming... A door slammed two stories below, and Chad withdrew. "It was nice meeting you," he said with another grin as he climbed up the stairs. $firstname slid down against the wall to her knees. She felt empty. She felt unsatisfied. Her dribbling pussy screamed for attention. What she wouldn't do right then for a nice, hard cock. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[To science class!]]

$firstname tried to shove him back, but it was like pushing a house. She moved her head away from his lips. "No, I'm not that kind of girl," she said. Chad's grip tightened. His breath was hot upon her neck. She shivered as she felt it slide across her skin; goosebumps rose in its wake. Whatever her lips said, her body wanted him. It wanted him badly. Then he released her. "If that's what you want," Chad said with a mocking smile. He turned and left her, climbing the stairs to the third floor. "Oh my god! Is that Chad Chaddington?! He's dreamy!" a high pitched girl shouted from the door where Chad had disapeared. "Well hello there, ladies. My name's Chad Chaddington and I'm kind of a big deal. Who wants my penis in their vagina?" "And so charming!" The door slammed shut, cutting off the voices. $firstname let herself slide along the wall to the concrete landing. Panting, she tried to keep her fingers from diving between her legs. Sweat poured from her brow. She held the tardy note in a trembling grip. [[To science class!]]

Mr. Sprinkle stared at the class like they were a bunch of a orangutans that'd taken a shit on his desk. His face held no expression, but his eyes flared with hate. He was kind of cute in that stable, aging way. $firstname knew that she only thought that because Chad's fingers had revved her libido, but that didn't stop her from imagining the middle aged English teacher bending her over his desk and pounding her with his Moby Dick. She shook her head. That wasn't an appropriate thought for a nice, Christian girl like her. $firstname shouldn't imagine Mr. Sprinkle pinning her to his hard table, lifting her skirt, and driving his fingers into her sopping panties. It wasn't good to think about his undoubtably massive cock, nor to fantasize about it driving in and out of her sodden cunt. Those simply weren't thoughts she was supposed to have. //Damn Chad and his hunky body,// she thought. A part of her wished he had stayed and finished the job; at least then she wouldn't be dripping into her plastic seat. "Miss $lastname," Mr. Sprinkle said. $firstname jerked up. Their science teacher had come down with a sudden case of pregnant, so the school called Mr. Sprinkle to fill in. He lectured them on evolution, and $firstname realized in a dim sort of way that she'd been mewing through it. "Would you like to add something to the discussion?" he said in an unblinking drone. She stood up. Her stomach fluttered as every eye in the room swiveled to stare at her. $firstname swallowed. Her mouth felt dry. [[Evolution is a lie!]] [[Ask to see more harem anime.]]

$firstname had to do something to draw Mr. Sprinkle away from teaching this heresy. She couldn't leave the Zionists to shape another group of unmolded minds into believing their lies. "Um, sir?" $firstname said. She pitched her voice to its highest and sweetest level. I sure did enjoy that fagime we watched yesterday. What was it called again?" "Love Hina." "Yes! That! A true work of cinematic brilliance." $firstname struggled to stifle a sudden surge of bile. "That's why I showed it to you," Mr. Sprinkle said, a touch of smug satisfaction tinging his usual monotone. "Human culture is such a critical part of a student's education that it would be a shame for the class to miss such an obvious milestone." $firstname snorted but managed to disguise it as a cough. "Well I enjoyed it so much that I hope you might show us something else. Something longer?" The class groaned and shot her filthy looks, but $firstname paid them little mind. They didn't know it, but she was battling for their eternal souls. "I don't know," Mr. Sprinkle said. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This is a science class, so the anime would have to focus on something sciency. Did you have a suggestion?" [['Convince' him]] [[Pray for guidance]]

The smartest man $firstname had ever known was her priest. He spent weeks ranting about evolution, screaming from his podium about its flaws and holes. How stupid, how arrogant, man must be to believe in such an obvious tool of the devil. $firstname was ready for this argument. $firstname was born for this argument. She stood up with a triumphant grin spreading across her face. "If man evolved from monkeys then why are there still monkeys?" The English teacher blinked. "W-what?" Now she had him. "It's a simple question, Mr. Sprinkle. If man came from monkeys then the monkeys should be gone. Monkeys still exist, therefore evolution is a lie. Checkmate atheists." She spread her arms wide and spun in a slow circle, basking in the awed stares from her fellow classmates. "You've got it confused," Mr. Sprinkle said. "The monkeys that live today aren't the--" "That's so typical of you evolutionists! You always change your story when you're proven wrong. I, for one, have had enough! Show me the evidence!" "Foss--" "Show me the evidence!" $firstname shouted. She climbed on top of her desk and beat her fist towards the heavens. "Show me the evidence!" Other members of the class took up her chant. Though hesitant at first, they grew in volume and fervor. $firstname grinned in pride. Mr. Sprinkle blinked at her thoroughly. "Detention, Miss $lastname." "You can silence me but you'll never silence the truth!" she screamed. Mr. Sprinkle took her by the arm and led her from the room. "Down with the atheists! Down with the Zionists and their schemes!" None of the class seemed to know what Zionist meant, but they cheered all the same. Applause followed $firstname as Mr. Sprinkle escorted her out. <> <<if $detention == 0>> [[Detention|Detention 1]] <<elseif $detention == 1>> [[Detention|Detention 2]] <<elseif $detention == 2>> [[Detention|Detention 3]] <<elseif $detention == 3>> [[Detention|Detention 4]] <<elseif $detention == 4>> [[Detention|Detention 5]] <</if>> <>

$firstname lifted her eyes and whispered a hasty prayer seeking guidance. "The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya," God whispered in her ear. "It fucking rocks." "The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya," $firstname repeated. It seemed strange to her that God knew about fagime, but she dismissed the thought when she remembered He was omniscient. Surely the Lord didn't watch that crap." A hint of surprise wrinkled Mr. Sprinkle's stoic face. He rubbed his chin. "That isn't really a harem show." "Are you telling me a show about one boy in a club with three girls doesn't count as a harem?" God said. "Are you some kind of faggot?" "Are you telling me one boy in a club with three girls doesn't count as a harem? Are yo--" $firstname stopped herself before she repeated the next part. For the first time in her life she began to wonder if God's word should be interpreted by its intention instead of adhered to varbatim. "I guess it does, and it certainly has a science aspect," Mr. Sprinkle said. He mumbled to himself as he reached into a tattered DBZ backpack and pulled out a cracked DVD case. He shoved the disc into its player and leaned back in his chair. Faint twitches of a grin pulled at the sides of his mouth. [[Cheer Tryouts.]]

Lust pulsed between her thighs. Her head swam. Her eyes locked on the small tent in Mr. Sprinkle's jeans. She licked her lips. Without really thinking about what she was doing, $firstname toyed with the hem of her shirt, pulling it down so that it bared cleavage. "Please sir," $firstname said. Her voice came out in a breathy whisper. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "Surely you must know of something we could watch. This science stuff makes my head hurt." The English teacher's eyes lingered on her chest, but then he wrenched them away with a shake of his head. "I know of several, Miss $lastname. But I also know when a student is trying to get one over on me. Sit down." "But sir!" $firstname said. She pulled her shirt down a little farther. With a flourish, she gestured as if underlining her breasts. "Don't you like anime?" His eyes flicked to her chest again and this time stuck there. "Of course I like... anime. They're-- it's very pretty! Sit down, Miss $lastname." A fuzzy warmth spread across $firstname's chest and up to her head. It wasn't lust-- she felt that too-- but pride. //He thinks I'm pretty!// "Please sir?" $firstname mewed. Mr. Sprinkle tightly shut his eyes. "No, and sit down! I am assigning you detention." He seemed to have to force the words out over a lump in his throat. $firstname did so, crossing her legs primly beneath her desk. She bit her lip at the large bulge that now pressed tightly inside Mr. Sprinkle's jeans. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <> <<if $detention == 0>> [[Detention|Detention 1]] <<elseif $detention == 1>> [[Detention|Detention 2]] <<elseif $detention == 2>> [[Detention|Detention 3]] <<elseif $detention == 3>> [[Detention|Detention 4]] <<elseif $detention == 4>> [[Detention|Detention 5]] <</if>> <>

Blood pulsed in $firstname's ears. Her hand trembled as she knocked against Mr. Pile's door. Her mouth went dry. She remembered what had come before-- the powerful sensations Mr. Pile had wrought within her-- and she hungered for it, needed it, but fear still danced along the edge of her mind. //Will he offer the same deal again?// she asked herself. The door creaked open. Mr. Pile sat at his desk chair grading papers. He smiled as she stepped inside. "Little Miss," he said with a smile. "In trouble again? Why don't you take a seat?" The gym teacher scooted his chair out and patted his thigh. With a relieved smile, she skipped over and settled herself into his lap. She fit his crotch perfectly. A sigh slipped through her lips. //This is where I belong,// she thought. $firstname shivered as his cock grew beneath her. Mr. Pile leaned close to her ear. His breath felt hot upon the nape of her neck. "The terms of the deal have changed," he whispered. She moaned at him. His words moved through her, and she felt too far gone to understand what he was saying. He stroked his hand along the inside of her thigh. It inched up her skirt. "Ten minutes isn't long enough for you to learn your lesson. I need twenty." "That's fine," she said. It was more than fine. $firstname wondered if twenty minutes was going to be enough. "And I want a little bit more," Mr. Pile said. He slipped his fingers beneath $firstname's panties and penetrated her. She yelped and arched her back as a sudden rush of sensation made her go stiff. "That felt incredible," $firstname whispered. She bit her lip as his hand moved slowly along the outside of her slit. She knew she should stop him. Her purity ring hung heavy on her right hand, and it seemed to weigh her down-- to drag her through the Earth and out the other side. She clenched her fist and began to rise. <<set $detention = 2>> Suddenly, Mr. Pile's fingers found her slit, and then the whole world went white. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Don't stop.]]

After what seemed like a long time, the office drew back into focus. A ringing sounded through $firstname's ears. Nevertheless, Mr. Pile's whisper tore through it to pierce into her soul. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked. His breath upon her neck made her tremble. Yes! Yes she needed him to stop. "Don't stop," she murmured, proud that she'd managed to piece the tattered remnants of her will power into something coherant. And then she felt herself shatter. "More." She moved in concert with his fingers. Mr. Pile ran his hand up her chest and into her shirt. He took a nipple between his fingers and squeezed. $firstname shrieked in ecstacy as an orgasm tore through her. Drool puddled at the edge of her mouth, dripping from her lips down her chin and onto her bared tits. "It's not a sin," $firstname mumbled. "It isn't sex." "No, it's not," Mr. Pile said. His hand moved faster. A wet schlick echoed against the office walls. $firstname reached back and cradled Mr. Pile's head. She pressed her lips against his; they were so soft. //Kissing feels good,// she thought dully. Everything felt good. The sensations built upon each other until all she could think about was the next shift of his hand, the next squeeze of his fingers around her nipples, and her next throaty moaned. An orgasm welled within her. It broke over her like a wave crashing upon the shore. "Don't tell my daddy I'm a slut!" she heard herself scream. The room spun about her, and she collapsed panting against Mr. Pile's sweaty chest. From somewhere far, far away, a bell rang. "Our time is up," Mr. Pile said. "Hopefully I won't see you in here again. $firstname nodded weakly and collected herself enough to rise from his lap. Small orgasms heralded her steps out the door. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[After School]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Cheer Tryouts.]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Into the mall!]] <<elseif $day == 4>> <<if $bimbo == 4>> [[Home Fail 4]] <<else>> [[Home Success 4]] <</if>> <<elseif $day == 5>> <<if $bimbo == 5>> [[Home 5-- Fall]] <<else>> [[Home 5 Success]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

"Don't. Stop," $firstname said, reluctantly removing Mr. Pile's hand from between her legs. //Why am I telling him no? It feels so good.// But that was the problem. Anything that felt as amazing as Mr. Pile's fingers had to be a tool of the devil's. "Are you sure?" Mr. Pile said. //No.// "Yes." He shrugged and leaned back. "Ok then. Go sit over there." He pointed at the desk in the corner. $firstname hated that desk. "I can't stay here?" $firstname shifted herself along the length of Mr. Pile's organ. "It's so much more comfortable." The gym teacher smiled. "'fraid not. If you can't fulfill the terms of the deal then you don't get the perks that come with it." With a pout, $firstname rose and went to the stupid desk in the corner. The gap between her butt cheeks felt like it was missing something vital.

The locker room smelled like feet and sweaty sports bras. Discarded clothes and towels hung from metal locker doors, and girls walked around with wet hair and bare chests. They were all better than $firstname, or at least that's the way she thought. The other women in the class seemed more confident, more at ease with each other, and much better endowed. $firstname fumed to herself. A girl pranced before her in purple silk panties. Her chest hung in two generous swells of perfect tear drop tits, and her hair shimmered along her back in a soft blonde wave. Her name was Britney, and $firstname hated her. She was too nice, too friendly with $firstname and the other girls. She even offered $firstname advice-- advice! As if this was $firstname's first time trying out for the cheer squad. Ok, so it maybe it was, and maybe $firstname didn't know how to put on a sports bra-- she'd never needed one before-- but that was no excuse. How could God bless Britney with such a beautiful body and leave $firstname, His most faithful, looking like a troll? "Because fuck you. That's why," God said. $firstname couldn't compete with Britney. That girl had everything: great tits, an ass you could bounce a dime off, and a personality only slightly less friendly than a drunk Julia Child. And $firstname's loaned bra pissed her off. She had no tits, so why did she need it? Why did the crackerjacking buckles have to be so fringle complicated? And the stringy thong Britney lent her kept riding up her backside. //You could leave it all behind,// $firstname thought. She could leave it all behind. It could give her an edge, too, and it wasn't like she'd show anything she wouldn't normally. Besides, It might show Stacy that $firstname was more than just a cross and purity ring, and it might be the only way $firstname could compete with the hyper endowed Mr. Rogers giggling her way into a miniskirt two lockers over. <<set $cheerleader = 0>> [[Surely God wouldn't let her fail.|Round one! Fight!]] [[Go the way feminism intended. Braless.]]

$firstname growled in frustration and tore her bra and panties off with a snap. Wadding up the fabric, she threw the ball into her locker and shut the door with a metal slam. She felt liberated not to have all that satin and lace rubbing against her nipples-- they'd been so sensitive lately. Memories of all the men, real or imagined, that'd played with them over the past couple days paraded through her mind. She felt herself begin to juice, and it was all she could do to keep from rushing into the nearest stall to get herself off. Suddenly, she realized what she was about to do. Cheer tryouts without underwear? They'd send her in the air. Everyone would see. $firstname reached back into her locker for the wadded up bra and panties. But before she could get them, a girl in a cheer uniform stepped into the locker and blew a whistle. "Line up!" she said, and the girls around $firstname began to follow her out. Britney threw her arm around $firstname's shoulder and dragged her out of the locker. "This is going to be so much fun!" she squeeked. A breeze blew past $firstname's unprotected pussy, and she shivered. //Only sluts don't wear underwear.// The thought made her shiver in arousal. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <<set $cheerleader = $cheerleader+1>> [[Round one! Fight!]]

The first thing $firstname noticed stepping onto the field was the football team crowded into the bleachers. They hooted and hollared and waved flags and shirts, lifting their jerseys in an ape like attempt to show their pecs. $firstname frowned. Most of their attention seemed to focus on Britney. Britney and her tits. The girl soaked up eyes like her boobs soaked up fat. Stacy and Gabby sat behind a fold up table at the edge of the field. The rest of the girls from the locker room lined up before them. The two captains stared at the gathering in stony silence, and $firstname began to sweat. She hadn't expected so many people would turn out to see and judge her. //I can still hide in the bathroom,// she thought. $firstname knew from experience that the fetal position could be comfortably maintained for hours. But just then Gabby shot her a confident smile, and $firstname felt the tension drain out of her body. Gabby thought she could do it, and if Gabby believed in her then it must be so. The girl was a cheer captain after all. They don't just go handing that title out to anybody. Though Gabby's eyes were all for $firstname, Stacy paid her little mind. In fact, the haughty girl refused to look any of the lined up applicants in the eye as she paced up and down the rigid line. "You have been invited because either Gabby or myself have seen something in you," she said like ice. Despite her calm voice, her tone carried, and not one of the applicants managed to suppress a shiver. Stacy stopped in front of $firstname, and for the first time she looked at her. "Heaven alone knows what though." Gabby walked to Stacy and placed an hand on her shoulder. With a welcoming smile, she turned to the applicants and gestured towards the bottom row of the bleachers. A large black line backer stood up. "The first challenge involves coordination and concentration," Gabby said. "You must balance on Jerome's back for as long as you are able." Jerome's muscles twitched. Gabby strode over and slapped him playfully on the butt, and then frowned and shook her hand as if the act had hurt her. "Are you made out of rock?" she asked. Stacy shot her a frozen glare. "Who's first?" she asked the line. Britney jiggled forward. Boys in the crowd hooted and hollared at her, but she just tittered and waved her stupid perfect hand. Even her nails were better than $firstname's. "He looks good enough to eat," she said. Britney's voice came out husky and seductive. She giggled as Jerome lifted her with ease. The bitch didn't have an ounce of fat on her outside of her tits and butt, and maybe her head. //She's so stupid I bet she'll grow up to be a stripper,// $firstname thought with smug satisfaction. "Nope, a molecular biologist," God said. //Smurf her!// $firstname screamed inside herself. And then she had an idea. A wicked, glorious idea. [[Flash Jerome]] [[Wait it out]]

Without pausing to think about what she was about to do, $firstname quickly and quietly made her way to the side of the bleachers. The spot was out of sight from everyone; everyone except Jerome. Nobody seemed to care where $firstname went-- the football players in the stands least of all. Their eyes were all for Britney who stood perfectly balanced on Jerome's shoulders. The gathering of muscle bound football players had grown silent. They seemed to be trying to peek under the hem of Britney's skirt. Britney, to her credit, studiously refused to glance at them. She looked ready to stay up their all day-- that is, unless $firstname did something. $firstname grinned, feeling deliciously naughty. She waved at Jerome and caught his eye. He frowned at her, perhaps comparing $firstname's proportions to Britney's, but he didn't look away. That was something. His eyes grew wide as she lifted her shirt. Then, Jerome lost his footing, and Britney wobbled and fell. She crashed hard into the grass with a yelp of pain. $firstname felt a surge of satisfaction at causing the woman suffering. "That's not very Christian of you," God said. Sure it was. Britney probably sinned or something. She had it coming. Suddenly, $firstname noticed Stacy staring right at her. She quickly shoved her top back over her breasts and tried to look sheepish while she walked unnoticed into line. Stacy looked thoughtful, but she didn't call $firstname out, and for that $firstname was grateful Britney popped up from the grass like a surfacing submarine. She giggled and twirled a strand of hair about a finger. "How'd I do?" she asked. "Not too well, Britney," Stacy said. "You'll have to do much better in the coming contests if you hope to land a spot on the squad." Britney shrugged as if it didn't bother her. She skipped back to the line and spoke excitedly to her neighbor, discussing the finer points of Jerome's anatomy. "$firstname! You're up next," Stacy suddenly called, and $firstname jumped. $firstname didn't do too good. She didn't do bad, but she didn't excel either. Jerome's shoulders, though solid, were hard to balance on. They were clearly not meant to hold women, but to smash through lines. The thought excited $firstname, and it was in her moment of aroused distraction that she lost her balance. Luckily the grass broke her fall and she didn't hurt herself too bad. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <<set $cheerleader = $cheerleader+1>> [[Round two!]]

Britney's one minute upon Jerome's back become five, and then five became ten, and by the fifteen minute mark Stacy called it. Even Stacy seemed surprised by the buxom girl's performance. Britney leaped from Jerome's shoulders in a graceful flip, landing like a cat upon the grass. Her breasts heaved, and she smiled at the football players cheering in the stands. She leaned close to Jerome and pressed herself against his firm chest. "You're so strong," Britney said, massaging Jerome's bicep. "Do you want my number?" //Finger snapping cracker monkey jew... Poop!// $firstname fumed. She imagined stabbing a sharpened cross through Britney's ample chest. "$firstname?" Stacy called. "You're next." Still fuming, $firstname climbed upon Jerome's shoulders and struggled to find purchase. At any moment it seemed a gust of wind would flip her skirt for all the boys to see. Hatred clouded her mind, and she barely managed five minutes before she lost her balance. She didn't stick the landing half as well as Britney did. [[Round two!]]

"Concentration!" Stacy snapped. The line of girls jumped and then hurried to look away. "Concentration." Stacy paced along the line of nervous applicants. None of the girls met her eye. Stacy mumbled to herself, repeating the word over and over again like some of holy mantra. $firstname raised her hand. Stacy's gaze swung to her, and somehow $firstname knew she'd just made a colossal mistake. "Are you having a stroke?" $firstname asked uncertainly. The applicants around her seemed to step away as one. Even Britney refused to look directly at $firstname, choosing instead to focus on a particularly fascinating blade of grass. "Excellent!" Stacy roared. She snatched $firstname by the arm and dragged her to the middle of the field. "We have a volunteer! What do you wish to ask of The Revealer?" "W-what?" $firstname stammered. "It will be known! Bring forth The Revealer!" Stacy swung her arm in a great sweep towards the women's locker room. A low roar grew within the crowd. "Revealer, Revealer, Revealer," they chanted in dull unison. Their voices came quiet at first, but built in volume as someone beat a drum in time with them. Four girls carried from the locker room a great wooden bench. A pair of police handcuffs were attached to a ring on each of the bench's legs, and somebody had taken the time to carve from its center a gashed slope-- the reason for $firstname slowly pieced together. The four girls seized $firstname by the arms and legs and bent her into the slope, cuffing her hands and legs to the bench. To the revealer. "There can be no secrets from the Revealer!" Stacy said. Suddenly, $firstname understood the reason for the bench's name. The crowd muttered in hushed whispers as a gust of wind blew across $firstname's exposed--Snatch/Underwear-- From her awkward position, $firstname felt Gabby's hand slowly stroke her backside. "But honorable friends," she said. "What is The Revealer without The Obscurer?" The chant in the stands changed. It grew quieter, more menacing. "Obscurer, Obscurer, Obscurer," the audience whispered. A box opened behind $firstname, and a cheer tore through the crowd. Gabby strode forward holding a massive wooden paddle with air holes drilled through its flat. "Can you dig it?" Gabby roared, holding the paddle above her head "Can you dig it?!" Along the Paddle's handle, $firstname could just make out the words 'The Obscurer' scrawled in ominous red paint. "I am so fucking hard right now," God said with undisguided glee. Stacy waved the roaring audience quiet. "Before a cheerleader is trusted with the sacred chants, she must prove her fortitude by withstanding The Obscurer. Sister Gabby, proclaim the word the supplicant must speak!" "Spell onamotapoeia!" Gabby said. [[Onamotapoeia!]] [[Onomatopoeia!]]

If the captains thought to break $firstname through corporal punishment then they sorely misunderstood what it meant to be Catholic. "O!" $firstname shouted as Gabby brought the paddle across her backside. A loud smack echoed through the stadium. $firstname grit her teeth and shoved the pain down. The first was always the easiest to bear. In fact, she found the punishment strangely cathartic. There was something purifying about pain. "Life is pain," God answered. "The paddle just displays its truth." "N!" Gabby smacked her again, harder this time, and $firstname let out a light whine. She wished she had a stick to bite. "O!" Her grip on the legs weakened, but the cuffs held her hands in place. "M!" $firstname's legs trembled, but she held them steady. She wouldn't give the other girls the pleasure of knowing how much she hurt. "A!" There is nothing more glorious than the faithful standing resolute against pain. "T!" Still, to suffer in front of so many people... It felt strangely arousing. "O!" A drop of something dribbled down the inside of $firstname's thigh. "P!" She bit her lip and grunted as the pain subsided into pleasure. "O!" Her body tingled, and she felt herself pushing back against the paddle, timing and matching it with a thrust of her own. "E!" $firstname threw back her head and moaned. It was all she could do to keep breathing. "Gaze upon her true form!" Stacy called. She grabbed $firstname by the hair and lifted her to stare at the football team gathered in the bleachers. $firstname's cheeks grew hot. "Cum for me, slut! Cum before these people!" "I!" $firstname called. Her voice left her throat in a gasp. The next spank sent her eyes fluttering in pain. She gathered her will. "A!" And then the final smack sent $firstname over the edge. Screaming, she went slack into a puddle pooling beneath her on the bench. //Everyone is watching me,// she thought. //So many people...// Stacy lifted $firstname by the jaw and held her half lidded eyes to hers. She looked almost proud of $firstname. "Well done, and the correct spelling. We might make something of you yet." She unhooked $firstname's bonds and pushed her into the grass. "Next!" she called. <<set $cheerleader = $cheerleader+1>> [[Owe]]

If the captains thought to break $firstname through corporal punishment then they sorely misunderstood what it meant to be Catholic. "O!" $firstname shouted as Gabby brought the paddle across her backside. A loud smack echoed through the stadium. $firstname grit her teeth and shoved the pain down. The first was always the easiest to bear. In fact, she found the punishment strangely cathartic. There was something purifying about pain. "Life is pain," God answered. "The paddle just displays its truth." "N!" Gabby smacked her again, harder this time, and $firstname let out a light whine. She wished she had a stick to bite. "A!" Her grip on the legs weakened, but the cuffs held her hands in place. "M!" $firstname's legs trembled, but she held them steady. She wouldn't give the other girls the pleasure of knowing how much she hurt. "O!" There is nothing more glorious than the faithful standing resolute against pain. "T!" Still, to suffer in front of so many people... It felt strangely arousing. "A!" A drop of something dribbled down the inside of $firstname's thigh. "P!" She bit her lip and grunted as the pain subsided into pleasure. "O!" Her body tingled, and she felt herself pushing back against the paddle, timing and matching it with a thrust of her own. "E!" $firstname threw back her head and moaned. It was all she could do to keep breathing. "Gaze upon her true form!" Stacy called. She grabbed $firstname by the hair and lifted her to stare at the football team gathered in the bleachers. $firstname's cheeks grew hot. "Cum for me, slut! Cum before these people!" "I!" $firstname called. Her voice left her throat in a gasp. The next spank sent her eyes fluttering in pain. She gathered her will. "A!" And then the final smack sent $firstname over the edge. Screaming, she went slack into a puddle pooling beneath her on the bench. //Everyone is watching me,// she thought. //So many people...// Stacy lifted $firstname by the jaw and held her half lidded eyes to hers. She gazed furiously at $firstname. "I admire your resolve, but you spelled it wrong. Useless slag." She unhooked $firstname's bonds and pushed her into the grass. "Next!" she called. [[Owe]]

$firstname rubbed her backside as she stepped back in line. It tingled, but in a pleasant kind of way. Spankings were always her favorite form of punishment. The next girl in line screamed for a stop before she got the first 'l' of 'Colloquial'. $firstname watched her go with a smug look on her face. Public school didn't make them quite like Catholic school did. One after the other, each of the girls in line took their turn and failed. Most sobbed their way off the field, but still some curled into a fetal ball. For those, other cheerleaders picked them up and escorted them away from the rest. Eventually only Britney remained. She waved to the gathered football players with a sultry smile pasted upon her lips as she sauntered to The Revealer. Stacy clicked handcuffs around Britney's wrists and ankles. $firstname leaned forward with an eager smile. This was going to be good. "Your word is 'easy'," Gabby said. She hefted the wooden paddle. Britney took a deep breath and shouted out the first letter. She needn't have, though, for Gabby's spankings were the lightest $firstname had ever seen. It was as if her heart wasn't really in it, or maybe her arms were tired. "Come on!" God said. "Enough of this pussy-ass fetish play. Make the bitch scream!" $firstname nodded. She'd like to hear a bit of screaming. Britney didn't so much as wimper. She finished her word and stood up. Her butt wasn't even red. She rejoined $firstname in line with a triumphant giggle. "That wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be," she said. "I wonder why all those other girls had such a hard time." Britney finished her word and stood up. Her butt wasn't even red. She rejoined $firstname in line with a triumphant giggle. "That didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would," she said. "And the other girls made it out to be so awful." $firstname frowned, wondering idly if her hands could wrap fully around the woman's throat, or if she'd have to find some rope. Stacy strode forward, and the bleachers fell silent. "Both of you have proven that you are physically and mentally strong enough to call yourselves Sisters of the Pom-Pom," Stacy said. She spoke quieter now that she had a smaller group to contend with. "But strength and will alone cannot secure a place within our hallowed order. One final challenge awaits." She clapped her hands above her head, and from every speaker in the stadium thundered eighties electric pop. "We can dance if we want to! We can leave your friends behind..." Stacy threw her arms wide and slowly circled as the bleachers erupted in a roar. "For your final challenge," she cried. Her voice shook the very pillars of the school. "You must dance!" Britney leapt into a fluid arc. She bounced and jiggled and thrust herself at the eagerly screaming men. Every eye in the stands locked to the buxum girl, and she seemed to drink it in, their attention fueling her into increasingly seductive steps. Her forehead glistened with sweat, but there was a cold determination in her eyes, and for the first time since meeting the girl $firstname realized just how shrewdly resolved she was. Britney wanted the position, and nothing, not $firstname nor God Himself, could stop her. $firstname watched dumbfounded as Britney pirouetted into a complicated half tilt that bared the upper swell of her ample bosom to the stands. //How the heck am I supposed to compete with that?// she asked. [[Channel her inner Magikarp]] [[Pray for help]]

When $firstname had been very young, her father had taught her a dance. It was the sort of thing a father teaches a girl on a rainy Saturday morning after marathoning the Vegitales movies. $firstname remembered it well, and for years the dance had earned her appreciative compliments from adults at all the yearly church fundraisers. $firstname took a fighter's crouch and hyper extended her arms with her thumbs pointed skyward. She bobbed up and down and moved her arms counter to each other in a verticle motion. "Do the monkey with me!" she shouted. The cry was the most important part of the dance. It, and it alone, was what made the dance truly The Monkey. The best part of The Monkey is that its dancer doesn't need to pay attention to rhythm, tone, or possess even basic coordination. All the dancer needs to do is repeat the same motion, shifting their hips ever so slightly so their fists turn like a sprinkler. $firstname allowed herself a smug smile as she caught Britney in the corner of her eye. The girl gyrated her hips in a lewd crescent, running her hands across sloping curves and shooting sultry smiles to the cheering crowd. //This is going to be easy,// $firstname thought. Britney's dance didn't even have any repeating movements, or a swinging thumbs up sign to let the audience know everything was groovy, nor did she call out the name of her dance so that other people could join in! $firstname bet the girl was making it up as she went along. As if teenage boys would choose a girl with swinging hips over $firstname's wholesome fun. Britney leaned forward and flashed the football team a generous helping of cleavage. She pulled herself upright, and gave Jerome a pout and wink. The crowd went wild. $firstname monkeyed harder. Pride swelled within her. //They like my dance!// she thought. But that was only natural. The Monkey is tried and true. Britney's shot Dante a smokey look that held an unspoken promise. Sweat beaded across her skin, and her hair grew wet under her exertion, taking on a wild look. She ran her hands through the back of her hair and let it fall into place in one long wave. $firstname laughed. Now Britney looked like she'd just crawled out of someone's bed. What a fool! The music beast faster, and Britney went right along with it. She beckoned to Jerome, pulling him forward with invisible strings. He stepped into her embrace as if in a daze. Britney pressed herself against him, bending over at the waist and grinding her butt against his waist. Jerome used one hand to hold her steady, and with his other he slapped her ample butt. His slaps encouraged her, and with each yelps she moved faster, pressing against him harder. It wasn't long until any semblance of dancing ended. Eventually the music died. The couple broke apart reluctantly, and Britney came to stand next to $firstname. Sweat beaded across her forehad. Her breasts heaved as she sucked in great gulps of air. Stacy held up Britney's hand. "I pronounce Britney our winner!" The crowd roared. Britney pulled her hand away and shot Jerome a sultry smile. "Can I have a five minute break?" she asked. Stacy nodded, and Britney giggled and clapped her hands. She grabbed Jerome by the belt and dragged him past the bleachers and into the bathroom. It wasn't long before the entire crowd could hear her moans echoing from the restroom. [[Results]]

Of all the things in the world, $firstname wanted to crush Britney more than anything. Surely, there could be no greater triumph than to taste the girl's tears-- so salty, yet made sweet through victory. "Lord God, carry me to glory," she said, her voice lost in the music. A bolt of lightening struck the pitch, and the grass erupted in a violent explosion, cutting the music off with a scratch. The audience gaped, and even Britney stopped her sultry sway to stare in slack jawed awe. The dust began to clear, and where the bolt had struck now rose a brass pole on a wooden stage. The speakers scratched again as an electric guitar roared. "She's my cherry pie! Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise, Tastes so good make a grown man cry, Sweet Cherry Pie!" Fireworks heralded $firstname's slow strut to the stage. She hooked her leg around the pole and spun, timing her cycles to the thrumming bass. Working the motion into her dance, she unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it into the cheering crowd. The football team went wild, and $firstname couldn't help but bask in their adoration. She felt warm. Very warm. As her skirt followed her shirt, twin fog machines spat out a cloud of knee high white smoke. Green and purple lasers danced through the fog, playing across $firstname's bare skin. Slowly, the sun dimmed into the half light of a solar eclipse. Jerome threw a crumpled dollar bill at $firstname. It bounced off her bare chest, and $firstname smiled at the muscular man and leaned over at the waist to pick it up, never breaking eye contact. More followed it. Many more. They fell around $firstname until they lay thick like fallen leaves across the wood. She looked at the bills with a dull expression. Certain aspects of herself seemed to crystalize with every fresh dollar. They called for more, and $firstname eagerly obliged. She spun with everything on display. Her mind filled with a hundred screaming voices, a hundred shouting throats all for her. For her body. She wanted to give herself to them, to all of them, and in that moment she nearly leapt for the bleachers and their countless waiting hands. Then the song ended. The lights came up, the stage disapeared with the fog, and it was with disapointment that $firstname found herself fully clothed again. The dollars remained as the only evidence anything had happened. A sudden desire overwhelmed her, and she fell to her knees and stuffed the bills into her her shirt, cramming them down into her clothes until she looked like a cash pinata. //Daddy is going to be so disapointed in me,// she thought, and was surprised when her pussy answered with a warm shudder. //I'm a naughty girl.// Stacy, along with most of the audience, opened and closed her mouth like a drowning fish. Gabby was the first to regain her composure. She strode forward. "I'm gonna go ahead and just pretend none of that happened, because if I didn't then I might go mad," she said with a shellshocked stare. "I proclaim $firstname the winner." <<set $cheerleader = $cheerleader+1>> The crowd cheered. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Results]]

$firstname and Britney stood together off to the side while the cheer captains deliberated. Stacy and Gabby looked to be arguing about something while a third girl $firstname didn't recognized tried to calm them down. $firstname'd tried to get close enough to hear, but the cheerleaders had formed a line like a Spartan hopilite and shoved her back. Her butt still smarted where it'd hit the ground. "Jee-Golly-Goshers," Britney said. She sucked on the end of one of her perfect golden locks. "I hope they pick me. I practiced so hard." $firstname took a patient breath. //Be good to your neighbors,// she thought bitterly as she bit back a retort. When $firstname felt like she wasn't going to say something she'd regret, she turned to Britney. "What did you do to practice?" "Jerome, Alex, Jacob..." Britney counted off. She bit her lip as she recited as if remembering them all was getting to be a bit of a trial. "Taylor, Sean, and..." $firstname tuned her out. She focused instead on digging a hole in the soft dirt with her shoe. $firstname tried not to think about what Stacy and Gabby were arguing about, though she knew it probably involved her. The two always seemed to be fighting. She wondered if they had ever been friends. "In elementary school," God answered. //What happened?// "Slipknot," He said in a tone that made it seem like it explained everything. Britney kept right on listing names as the gathering of captains broke apart. She only stopped when Stacy came within hearing distance. $firstname wondered if the slut would've gone on all day if the captains hadn't interrupted. <<if $cheerleader gte 3>> "Both of you performed admirably," Gabby said, her eyes full and apologetic. "But we only have space for one." $firstname felt her palms grow moist. Her stomach fluttered. She leaned forward on the balls of her feet, her teeth grit so tightly she could hear them crack and grind. Stacy wore an expression like a person that'd drunk something particularly nasty. "That's why it's with a heavy heart that I must welcome," she heaved a great sigh and seemed to gird herself, "$firstname to the team." $firstname's ears rung. She shook her head, thinking she must've heard wrong. "Excuse me?" she asked. "You are the team's pick," Stacy said. She put an acidic emphasis on the word 'team'. The world seemed to spin around $firstname. She opened and closed her mouth soundlessy and gulped great breaths of air. A strong rush of elation silled her. "You-you want me?" $firstname looked to her side just in time to see Britney run off the field with mascara and tears streaming down her face. Surprisingly, Britney's suffering only added to her elation. She'd beaten the full breasted whore at her own game. "You were the obvious choice," Gabby said. The apology in her eyes was gone now that Britney had left. Her face beamed with pride. "Of course, we can't let you on the team with those clothes. We have an image to uphold." Stacy face turned thoughtful. "Yes, yes," she said. "Something will have to be done about that outfit. Tomorrow. You come to the mall after school with us tomorrow." She scratched her head and muttered to herself as she wandered off. "Not the best ingredients, but maybe I can make something of her yet." $firstname watched her go with a frown. "She going to be ok?" Gabby smiled. "She gets that way when it comes to clothes. I'd be more worried about your wallet than her sanity if I were you." With that, she too walked off the field. $firstname stood in the center for a long time trying to process what exactly had happened. She didn't get any closer, and even as the sky grew dark and she began her long walk home, she still mulled over why the captains had chosen her over Britney the big boobed bombshell.Eventually, though, she gave up. $firstname had beaten Britney, and what's more had sent the girl off sobbing. That was all that counted. Britney's mascara streaming down her face, the girl's crushing and absolute defeat, and $firstname's pride in knowing the conquest of a superior foe. "Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentation of their women," God said. "That is best in life." $firstname whole heartedly agreed. <<else>> "Both of you performed admirably," Gabby said. Her eyes were full and apologetic. "But we only have space for one." Stacy snorted. "No they didn't," she said with a widening grin. "$firstname, I don't know how or why you thought you could make it onto my cheer squad, but I'm going to make it my life's mission to ensure that you never get within fifty feet of a pom-pom ever again. You're a piece of shit. When you die cold and alone, I hope you look back on this day as the day you realized that nobody will ever love you." $firstname opened and closed her mouth like a gasping fish. "A simple no would've sufficed," Gabby mumbled. "The less popular need to learn their place, Gabby. I thought we discussed this," Stacy said. "We discussed that I'm sick of you being such a vicious cunt." Stacy hrumphed into her pom-poms. "You, failure," she said, pointing at $firstname. "I don't know why my co-captain has such a hard on for you, but she won't let me rest until I play nice. I guess we could always use another ugly girl to carry our towels. It's all you'll be good for." "Come on, Stacy. At least give her some help. She clearly needs it." "Fine!" Stacy groaned. "Meet us tomorrow after school and we'll stuff your bloated frame into something presentable. Don't ever say I didn't do anything for you." "Was that so hard?" Gabby said, wrapping her arm around Stacy and leading her from the field. "Extremely." $firstname sat for awhile on the field, tears welling in her eyes. She felt a lump form in her throat. Did she win? Was that good? $firstname didn't feel good. She felt terrible. Maybe that was the price of being popular. Tears began to make their way down her cheeks. "You really were awful," God said. $firstname cried harder. <</if>> [[Home 2]]

Through the thin walls, $firstname heard the deep baritone of her father's voice. She let herself smile as she collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. At least they were speaking to each other again. That was certainly something. As if looking for something to take her mind off the conversation happening a floor below her, $firstname rose and began cleaning her room. It didn't need it, but she took solace in scrubbing the same spot with a damp rag over and over again. Eventually, though, even $firstname couldn't deny that she was wasting her time. Now would be a good time to pray. A day spent in school felt like a day bathing in sin. $firstname felt fetid, sickly, as if a black sludge clung to her soul. Even if her own sins were comparatively minor, she still felt responsible for the wrongs of others. <> <<if $pray == 0>> [[Pray|Pray 1]] <<elseif $pray == 1>> [[Pray|Pray 2]] <<elseif $pray == 2>> [[Pray|Pray 3]] <<elseif $pray == 3>> [[Pray|Pray 4]] <</if>> <> But then, not everything that'd happened had felt wrong. Some of it had felt good. Very good. Chad Chaddington's fingers beneath $firstname's skirt sprang to mind. That boy had such a skilled way with women, and $firstname could still feel his muscular arms. She felt a yawning hunger suffuse her. Maybe a bit of exploration wouldn't be amiss? <> <<if $explore == 0>> [[Explore|Explore 1]] <<elseif $explore == 1>> [[Explore|Explore 2]] <<elseif $explore == 2>> [[Explore|Explore 3]] <<elseif $explore == 3>> [[Explore|Explore 4]] <</if>> <> But then, $firstname was a cheerleader now. A cheerleader! And, as a cheerleader, she had to look her best. Surely she could spare a few minutes to design tomorrow's outfit and still have time to pray or do whatever. <> <<if $model == 0>> [[Model|Model 1]] <<elseif $model == 1>> [[Model|Model 2]] <<elseif $model == 2>> [[Model|Model 3]] <<elseif $model == 3>> [[Model|Model 4]] <</if>> <>

$firstname could feel the purple welts that stretched across her backside. They twinged beneath a light press of fabric. Memory of the previous night's redemption, of God's steady retribution, still left her tingling. She could feel His light within her, but it felt diminished now. It was as if the day's sins had clouded His brilliance. The loss of even a lumen of His holy light filled $firstname with an immense sense of loss. She went to her altar and knelt in prayer. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned," $firstname said. "Don't care," God said. "It has been one day since my last confession." "Don't care." "I have had impure thoughts." "Are you not listening to me, girl?" God said. "I don't give a fuck about your weird fantasies. I beat that ass purple, and no amount of trite crap you've pulled this week can justify another cleansing." "I met a boy, Chad Chaddington," $firstname began, but that as far as she could go before her voice just cut off. It was as if someone had pressed a mute button. $firstname opened and closed her mouth soundlessly. God turned up the volume on the television He had in whatever part of Heaven he'd parked his couch. $firstname heard people begin to argue in Japanese. "So he quit drinking, got in contact with his long lost daughter, and now Dr. Tenma's in town? Yeah, I don't need to be fucking omniscient to know how this is gonna end," God said. $firstname felt the taint of sin seep deeper into her soul. She squirmed in discomfort, screaming mutely at her altar. In fury, she rose from her perch and grabbed a pen and paper from her desk. 'My Lord, how do I seek absolution?' she wrote as respectfully as she could. "Honestly, whatever-your-name-is, you've barely lived. You're like a girl that took one shot of Smirnoff at a party and now goes every week to A.A. Shit, dude, live a little." From God's television, a man let loose a blood curdling scream. God sipped audibly from a very cheap can of beer. "Called it." $firstname sat for a moment in thought. God wanted her to sin so that she could repent. The logic seemed circular, but no more so than anything she'd read in the bible. $firstname took it in stride. By now she a pro at swallowing cognitive dissonance. If the path to repentance was to sin, then $firstname would become the greatest sinner that had ever been. <<set $pray = 2>> [[Let's begin.]]

//Just a few more minutes. Just one more cum and I'll stop,// $firstname thought, throwing herself eagerly onto the bed. She felt ravenous. The hunger just wouldn't quit, and it was near the only thing she could think about. //One cum. All I want is to cum once.// $firstname dove into her sodden panties, and her clit let loose a shudder of ecstacy at its touch. She moved faster, twisting and writhing around her hand. She moaned, savoring her touch. This was what she wanted. This was what she'd hungered for. But it wasn't enough. $firstname couldn't cum. Her orgasm was there just beyond reach, but she couldn't grasp it. Drool dripped down her chin as her hand moved frantically. The room echoed with her cries. "Please," she moaned. "Please, just let me cum. I need it. I want to cum. I just want to cum." The feeling eluded her. She wrapped herself around her arm and mewed in frustration. The moon shone bright through her open window. Where had the time gone? It'd been full light when she'd started. A cool gust of air swept across $firstname's sweaty body. It beckoned her, called to her, and slowly $firstname rose, stopping just long enough to pull on some clothes before stumbling down the stairs and out of the house. She swam in hormones. They pulled at her, dragging her down the street and around the corner to stop before a grungy looking building with a neon sign. Music pulsed within. $firstname could feel its bass thrum against her bones. A bouncer with forearms like crossed rebar smiled as she stepped inside. Inside, countless bodies writhed and danced, competing in some sinful game to show the most of their sweat soaked flesh. Alcohol and lust rose from the crowd to tingle $firstname's nostrils. She stood in awe at the maw of that decadent pit. $firstname knew she should turn back. She knew her place was in her bed sleeping soundly, and not here gazing upon this ritual of flesh. But if she entered, if she indulged her carnal apetites... $firstname's pussy rumbled. Driven by lust, she took a step, and then another, and another. "I'll just confess later," she said in a hurried whisper. The bass spoke to her in a primal way. $firstname swayed in time with the music. She moved hesitantly at first, as if she feared her father might appear suddenly to drag her off, but before long her pulsing sex drove away all thought of restraint. She moved now like water, a flowing river of flesh and desire. A stranger's hands rested on her hips. They gently pulled her back, and $firstname followed without really thinking. She pressed herself against the stranger's groin. He matched her rythm with his own, and his cock began to grow. $firstname pressed back harder. She leaned against his muscular frame and reveled at his touch. His hands traced their way up her body, cupping her breasts in a firm grasp. A moan slipped through her lips. "You're a bad girl," the stranger whispered. His breath felt hot against her ear. There was something about being called a 'bad girl' that made her gush. $firstname whipped around and pressed her lips against his. "Very bad," she said. The stranger led her by the hand to a shadowed corner and slammed her against the wall. $firstname dragged him with her by his shirt, and their lips met again. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close. His dick, large and firm to be felt through jeans, pressed against her panties. Her damp slit conformed to its shape. His hand slipped beneath her shirt and slowly climbed its way towards her chest. A roaring wave of ecstacy tore through $firstname at the man's first touch on her nipples. She planted her teeth into his shoulder and screamed, her voice lost in the club's pulsing music. Only his firm grasp on her ass kept her upright as she gushed and twitched in his embrace. The sensation continued for what seemed like hours. Her fingers made long red streaks beneath his shirt. Eventually, the stranger let go, and $firstname collapsed into the beer soaked floor. Drool pooled beneath her. Her mind felt full of a happy, white fuzz. Nothing else mattered. In fact, there was nothing else. Only $firstname and the occasional twitch of an orgasmic aftershock. The stranger walked away, but $firstname didn't care. She'd gotten what she needed from him. Funny, for some reason she couldn't remember his face. A piece of her felt like she should remember something like that. If she didn't get his name, then she should at least know his face. What kind of slut did that make her? $firstname climbed unsteadily to her feet and moved towards the exit. The orgasm hadn't satsfied her, not by a long shot, but it'd taken the edge off her apetite. //One cum,// she thought. //I promised myself I'd stop after one cum.// The exit rose before her. Its green letters shone like a welcome beacon to a woman lost at sea. Somebody tapped her shoulder. She turned, not catching the man's face. "Care to dance?" he asked, taking her by the hand. <<set $explore = 2>> $firstname let the man guide her deeper into the dancing throng. //One more can't hurt,// she thought with undisguised eagerness. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

$firstname picked through the other day's purchases. She picked up and frowned at a gray ankle length dress. "No," she muttered, throwing the thing into a trash bag to her right. She pulled out a bulky sweater with a pink cat sewn into its chest. That too followed the dress. Another shirt, this one of Jesus dressed as a goalie blocking penises flying towards a vagina, earned a scowl. "Christ, no," $firstname said, chucking the shirt into the trash been. "Why did I buy all this crap?" Only a few scraps were worth keeping out of the lot. With a sigh, she looked at the other twenty cardboard boxes piled around her. They were all garbage. Not even worth picking through. She turned on her computer and whipped out her father's credit card. If none of the clothes worked then she knew an easy fix. A big red message flashed across the screen. "Declined? What the fiddle-frag does that even mean?!" she shouted. It meant she was out of money, or, rather, her father was out of money. $firstname growled in frustration. Didn't those department store fools know that $firstname had a genuine fashion emergency? It was simply unchristian for them to deny her in her in her time of need. $firstname thought about a few choice words she could write to the CEO of Victoria's Secret, but then out of the corner of her eye she spotted a flashing advertisement. "$$$Earn Ca$h Fa$t!$$$" it read in bright letters. "Looks legit," $firstname said, clicking it. The site offered a platform for girls to stream videos of themselves so that men could give them money. It could be her solution. $firstname had no idea why a man would give her money simply for a video, but then again she didn't really care. She needed cash, and she needed it fast. $firstname dug out an old beige webcam and stood in front of her bed. "Hi!" she said in the most chipper voice she could muster. "My name's $firstname and I need money for clothes." Nothing. Zip. Nada. And the website had made it seem so simple. She tried again. "Please give me money for clothes!" Nope. What was wrong with her? Was she not good enough? //Maybe I should see how the other girls attract viewers,// she thought. Suddenly, the view counter on the bottom right hand of the screen ticked to one. "Show me your tits," OldJizzer420 typed. $firstname frowned at the screen. It wouldn't do to ban her first viewer, even if he was a troll. "Why should I?" she typed back. "I'll give you five dollars," OldJizzer420 responded. The black letters blazed within her mind. Five dollars. She could buy a new pair of panties for that much. Small panties. With satin, and lace, and a little Jesus cross below the waistband. Five dollars. //On this rock I shall build my church,// she thought. Without really thinking about what she was doing, $firstname grasped the bottom of her shirt. She lifted it slow as a warm wetness grew between her thighs. Rough cotton dragged against her hardened nubs, and she swore she could feel every centimeter of the fabric. She licked her lips. With a sudden inhalation, her tits popped free, and a cool gust of air from the humming air conditioner danced across her tingling flesh. The computer chimed like a silver bell. The sound sent a rush of pleasure up $firstname's spine. Across her newsfeed paraded OldJizzer420's donation of five dollars. "Nice," he typed. //Nice. Nice. Nice.// His words echoed in the same note as the ringing bell. He thought $firstname's tits were nice. It'd been so easy, and so, so right. Five dollars. Her tits had earned her five dollars in ten seconds. OldJizzer420's words dripped warm honey across her flesh. He coated her in it, suffusing her very soul in its sweetness. It soaked into her skin. She fell back onto her bed and rubbed her nipples, gasping in sudden inhalations at the desire her touch sparked. She felt alive. She rubbed faster as her mouth opened in a low moan. Sheets felt marvelous against her skin. Then another chime, and $firstname let loose a silent cry of ecstacy. She felt herself climb higher and higher, carried by the silver donation rings sounding from her computer. She greeted each one with another moan, another desparate thrust of her hand between her thighs. Soon, all she could think of was to make them come faster. They became her being, supplanting her very soul with their silver tone. $firstname's vision swam. She convulsed around her hand in shuddering bursts of pleasure. Sweat beaded across her forehead, and she inhaled great gulps of sex scented air wafting from her sheets. Her mouth cried. Her lungs screamed. But still she carried on, her orgasm destroying thought in a blast of white heat. Eventually her sensations faded, and $firstname managed to climb unsteadily to her feet. Sweat dripped down her face. The room seemed to sway around her. With no small effort, $firstname forced the computer at least to stand still. Her view count stood at an astounding eighteen! What's more, she'd earned seventy dollars. Seventy dollars for the most intense ten minutes of her life. "Do it again," OldJizzer420 wrote. <<set $model = 2>> $firstname licked her lips and eagerly fell back into her sweat stained sheets. //Let's see how much I'm worth,// she thought with a vapid smile. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

The hardest part of any day is the transition from the world of dreams to conscious thought. In that brief moment a man questions the nature of reality; what is true and what is merely the fevered ravings of a lunatic? The line is blurred, as it is through the entirety of night, but it's only in that half second of confused waking that the vivid hallucinations can be recalled with a degree of cetainty. What fantastic images can the human mind conjure? There are no limits to the imaginitive power of the individual, and for each of us the stories are unique. $firstname, for instance, was dreaming about firemen. Strong firemen. She liked firemen, or her unconscious mind did, and is there really any difference between the two? There's the truth we admit and the truth we don't, and for $firstname that hidden truth was that she liked firemen. <<set $day = 3>> But $firstname was aware she couldn't spend all her time gently rubbing herself into her mattress. She got out of bed and stood before the mirror. <> <<if $transformed == 1>> <<if $slut lte 2>> <<set $bimbo = 1>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 2>> <<if $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 3>> <<if $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 4>> <<if $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

"Christ, what is wrong with me?" $firstname growled to herself as she paced the school halls after lunch. She felt horny, again. The urges grew stronger with each day that passed. They left her feeling empty and craving... something. Something long and hard and-- $firstname shook her head. She wasn't supposed to have think like that. She was a good, Christian slut-- girl. $firstname bit her lip, and even that small amount of pain made her pussy drool. "If I don't get myself under control then I might do someone-- something I regret," she said, but her voice came out in a panting moan. Passing students looked at her oddly. $firstname easily ignored them. Life seemed to move in a strange haze from which her desires emerged and sank. It took constant effort to keep her hands from flying to her nipples. $firstname knew from experience at this point that she could cum from breast play alone. A hand tapped her shoulder, and $firstname turned around to find herself face to face with Chad Chaddington's enormous pecs. They were alone. The hallway had emptied itself without $firstname noticing. "Hey there!" Chad Chaddington said. "My name's Chad Chaddington and I'm kind of a big deal. Maybe you've heard of me?" "We met yesterday," $firstname said. "Fantastic! Then you know how great I am!" Chad pushed her against the locker. $firstname's libido roared, and she let herself fall against the cheap metal with a clang. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She was too horny for this. Too aroused to push him off. "Please," she said. She knew her voice came out in a whine, but couldn't muster the will to care. Chad slipped his hand beneath her skirt, and she felt a small egg shaped piece of plastic pop inside her. He held up a remote and pressed a button. Suddenly, the plastic egg inside her vibrated, and it was all $firstname could do to keep upright. A moan slipped through her lips, and her grip on Chad's enormous forearms tightened. As quickly as it had come, the vibration stopped, but $firstname could still feel the egg inside her. Her pussy screamed for more. Chad shot her a devilish smile. "Be a good girl and keep it in. Bad girls miss all the fun." He pushed the button again, and this time he let her collapse. Laughing to himself, he strode off down the hallway. [[Be a good girl.]] [[Be a bad girl.]]

$firstname was a good girl! She'd always been a good girl. The best girl. And if being a good girl meant acting like a naughty slut... well, that was just something she'd have to confess later. The egg buzzed again. $firstname's eyelids fluttered and her legs tensed. Did she have enough time for a quick trip to the girl's room? A pale, scrawny boy coughed to her right. He wore glasses, and a D.A.R.E. shirt that still hung loosely on his torso despite its extra small size. Despite his unappealing physique, he looked at her with an intensity that made $firstname feel like he was staring into her soul. "Do you have a minute?" he said with an easy confidence. "Now's probably not a good--" $firstname began, but a sudden pulse from her buzzer cut her off. "Oh hell yes!" Her vision swam, and her knuckles went white from her grip on the painted metal surface of the lockers. "Well ok then," the boy said with wide eyes. "My name's Charlie and I just wanted to say that you're really pretty and I'd like to maybe take you out sometime if that would be ok but if not that's fine I just hope you'll consider saying yes because you're beautiful and I like you." //Why's this twerp still talking to me?// she thought. Then the buzzer vibrated again, and $firstname couldn't take it any more. Her grip on the locker failed and she fell to her knees, her pussy twitching in a violent orgasm. "Yeeeeeeeesssssss!" "Great!" Charlie said. Relief flooded his face. "I'll pick you up tomorrow after school." He walked off with a wave around the corner and out of sight. Slowly, $firstname pieced herself together. Had she just agreed to a date? Her first date ever was going to be with that kid? Her buzzer went off again, sparking her libido anew. $firstname tried to repress it, but the desire remained. <<set $date = 1>> //I should find Chad and have him finish what he started,// $firstname thought with a horny smile. The egg vibrated in response. //Would that make me a good girl or a bad girl?// It was getting so hard to keep everything straight. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Pull out the buzzer]] [[Go find Chad]]

With a frown at Chad's back, $firstname pulled the buzzer out of herself and dropped it into the nearest trashbin. It buzzed against an empty bag of Dorritos. She fumed to herself. Who the hell was Chad to just walk up to her and pull some weird crap like that? Like, at what point in a person's life do they just throw up their hands and say, 'Screw it! Today I'm gonna stick stuff up random people's who-hahs.' Someone tapped lightly against $firstname shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. The tapper was scrawny and pale boy, but he had a kind of awkward sincerity that she found endearing. She dimly remembered seeing him in her English class, groaning just as loud as the rest of them at Mr. Sprinkle's choice of Hamtaro. His name was Charlie, if $firstname remembered correctly. "D-Do you have a minute?" he asked, adjusting his glasses. $firstname nodded. She felt her heart flutter. The boy was cute, in his own little awkward way. He scratched the back of his neck and locked eyes with the floor. "My name's Charlie and I just wanted to say that you're really pretty and I'd like to maybe take you out sometime if that would be ok but if not that's fine I just hope you'll consider saying yes because you're beautiful and I like you." $firstname blinked. She blinked again as she began to piece together what he was saying. Then her cheeks colored. "Oh.. well, thanks?" It was her turn to stand awkwardly for a minute as she thought about her answer. [[Sure]] [[Let's just be friends]]

Ducking into the bathroom, $firstname threw herself into a stall and dropped her panties. They fell to the tile floor with a wet plop. Thick drops of her juices traced glistening lines on her thighs. She could hear the buzzer humming inside herself. Her breath came in sharp gasps, and her hands trembled as they grasped the plastic coord dangling from between her thighs. A weakness set upon her fingers as $firstname struggled to find the strength to pull the buzzer out. Her cunt grasped the plastic egg, holding fast to its source of stimulation. With a wet plop, the egg practically flew out of her and skittered across the bathroom floor, buzzing loudly against the tile. $firstname breathed a sigh of relief. No, not relief: regret. She edged slowly away from an orgasm, a glorious cum that would've made her vision go black. She yearned to grasp the plastic toy and shove it against her clit. But she tamped the feeling down. Instead, $firstname threw the buzzer into the trash and walked away. Though she knew it to be her imagination, she swore she could still hear its siren's hum inside her head. [[Into the mall!]]

Chad wasn't the kind of boy a girl 'finds'. He was more a force of nature; a roving phenomenon who, instead of destruction, left behind quivering legs and orgasmic ecstacy. One doesn't 'find' a storm. It finds you. She did find someone, though: A boy leaning against a locker with a coy smile on his lips. He wore a black leather jacket with tall engineer boots and greased hair. $firstname, so spurred by the near constant buzzing in her snatch, grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to the nearest washroom. $firstname slammed the nameless man into the stall; he fell onto the toilet and looked at her with a patient, hungry expression. Then, she paused with her fingers twined in his chestnut hair. //Do I want to do this? Am I really about to do this?// The buzzer decided it for her. She straddled him and pressed against his groin. Grinding herself against him, she threw her head back and moaned. Jeans had a certain way they rubbed against her clit that thrilled her to the bottom most depths of her being. They had the strength of a man's fingers and coupled it with a roughness she was coming to enjoy more and more. Pain, or at least a careless disregard for her well being, fulfilled her in a primal way; to be used for pleasure and nothing else sent a decadent shiver along her spine. What was her purpose but to submit to the needs of the flesh? Certainly God never spoke to her as fully as that boy did with a simple look. The bathroom door slammed open, but $firstname tried to ignore it. Her efforts were to be in vain, though, for no sooner had she placed her lips on the stranger then a hand pulled her off him. "Young lady, what are you doing?" Mr. Sprinkle said. "This isn't appropriate school behavior." Though his expression was firm, $firstname smiled at the significant tent in Mr. Sprinkle's pants. //At least he's a man,// she thought before shaking her head. //What am I doing?// She'd been so worked up by the buzzer that she hadn't been thinking clearly. Now, $firstname was going to get in trouble, and even worse she had to repent everything. "I'm sorry," $firstname said. "I don't know what came over me." Mr. Sprinkle's expression softened. "Detention, Miss $lastname. Don't let me catch you doing this kind of thing on school grounds again." //Christ, he's so hot.// $firstname twirled a strand of hair. "Yes, sir." The teacher pointed her out of the bathroom and on her way. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <> <<if $detention == 0>> [[Detention|Detention 1]] <<elseif $detention == 1>> [[Detention|Detention 2]] <<elseif $detention == 2>> [[Detention|Detention 3]] <<elseif $detention == 3>> [[Detention|Detention 4]] <<elseif $detention == 4>> [[Detention|Detention 5]] <</if>> <>

$firstname practically trembled at Mr. Pile's door. Not from fear-- well, not entirely-- but from excitement. Why had she ever dreaded detention? This wasn't a punishment. It was a reward. Mr. Pile's fingers had shown her a whole new side of herself, and it was a side she was coming to like. She rapped lightly against his door. Mr. Pile opened it, standing in the entryway shirtless. $firstname bit her lip. She traced the clearly defined abs with her eyes, reveling at the now familiar rush of blood flowing to her pussy. "I got in trouble again," $firstname said with her eyes locked on the bulge in his gym shorts. She licked her lips. "Get in here," Mr. Pile said, opening the door wider and slapping her ass as she passed. $firstname yelped in joy. The meat of her ass stung pleasantly. "You're becoming a regular trouble maker." She leaned against his desk and shot him a smoky look. "I've been such a naughty girl. I don't know what's gotten into me." Mr. Pile turned her around and shoved her over his desk. The wood pressed hard against her tits. "I've got a couple ideas." He traced the curve of her behind and lifted her skirt. $firstname felt a cool gust of wind blow across her damp pussy. He rubbed his fingers along her slit, and $firstname threw back her head and moaned. Lubricant flooded his hand and dribbled to the floor in dark droplets. Drool dribbled down $firstname's chin and pooled beneath her cheeks. She pressed against him, reveling at the sudden growth of his cock beneath the thin nylon of his shorts. She closed her eyes and lost herself to the rhythm of his touch. It was like a wave; a wave of sound; a wave of ecstasy. She rode it, rising to its apex, cresting and plunging down into its valley, only to repeat process a hundred times. A thousand times. And each time she rose still higher, and fell still farther, until her legs trembled and her voice was hoarse. Mr. Pile stopped. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Time's up. You can go." "No," $firstname moaned. It wasn't enough. It still wasn't enough. "Just a little more. Please." Mr. Pile hooked his fingers into his shorts and lowered them. She tracked his shaft as it bulged against the nylon and then sprang to attention. $firstname licked her lips, suddenly thirsty. <<set $detention = 3>> "If you want to stay then get on your knees," Mr. Pile said. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Stay]]

"Yeah," $firstname said finally. "I'd love to." Relief flooded Charlie's face. He broke into a wide grin. "Really? That's the first time a woman has ever said yes to me." He looked at her with a sudden expression of fright. "I shouldn't of said that." $firstname laughed nervously. He really was cute. "I've never had a boy ask," she said with a shrug. He began backing slowly away from her. "I'm gonna go before I blow it," he said with a smile. "Pick you up tomorrow?" "Tomorrow," she agreed. Charlie turned and broke into a run. He leapt into the air and clipped his heels together twice. Landing with a woop, he turned to a group frightened freshman. "I got a date!" he yelled, and then ran off again. $firstname watched him go with a smile. A faint blush colored her cheeks. That nervous fluttering in her heart hadn't really gone away. Of all the decisions she'd made this week, she was glad to have at least made this one. <<set $date = 1>> [[Into the mall!]]

Was he joking? With that build, those glasses, and was that a D.A.R.E. shirt? Who even wears that these days? Like, she could dig being his friend, $firstname wasn't a bitch, but to actually date this... thing? No. A thousand times no. A girl like $firstname deserved someone better. A football player, or a hockey player, or a lumberjack; anything but this scrawny little worm. "I'm sorry," $firstname said, struggling to hide her disgust. "I just don't feel the same way. I hope we can still be friends." "We weren't friends to begin with," Charlie answered. "Well, I-- uh... good bye," $firstname said finally. "Yeah, good bye." Charlie wiped his reddening eyes and walked slowly to the bathroom. As he disapeared around the corner, $firstname heard him sob. [[Into the mall!]]

Dropping to the cold floor, $firstname wrapped her hand around Mr. Pile's cock. The skin felt soft, but the organ itself had a delectable firmness to it that made her mouth water. In what could only be described as instinct, $firstname moved her hand rythmically up and down, slowly getting to know the length and feel of his shaft. Her skin tingled where it met his. Mr. Pile wrapped his hand in her hair and gently pulled her forward. $firstname resisted. "I shouldn't be doing this," she said. "It's ok. I say it's ok," he said. The floor felt cold and hard, but there was naturalness to the position. It took $firstname a moment, but she soon realized she was in the exact place she found herself each time she went to pray. This time, though, her thoughts weren't towards some higher power, but to her base and carnal needs. $firstname pressed her lips to the head, reveling at the taste. His precum was like the most decadent aphrodisiac, and the second it hit her tongue it sent her head swimming. Something within screamed for her to stop. Digging deep, $firstname found the strength to pull back. "It's a sin. I can't." Despite her protests, though, her hand never left the shaft. Mr. Pile growled like a wild beast. His voice thrummed against the room's walls. "Oh for fuck's sake. Just suck my dick, slut." That word sent her over the edge. Like a woman possessed, $firstname eagerly opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the cock. She hadn't meant to. It felt as if she were compelled, but once she started $firstname didn't want to stop. Back and forth, back and forth, she ran her lips along its length. Saliva and precum pooled in her throat, but its taste only urged her faster. Harder. Deeper. $firstname slipped a finger beneath her skirt. Warm wetness greeted her. Her body seemed made for this. She felt herself build to the now familiar climax, and she welcomed it with open arms. Even to $firstname's ears, her moans sounded guttural and whorish, but she reveled in them; something about the sight of her painted nails wrapped around Mr. Pile's cock struck her as right. Mr. Pile tightened his grip on the back of her head. "Get ready, slut." //Get ready for what?// With a low groan, Mr. Pile tensed. A hot and sticky substance shot into $firstname's mouth, catching her by surprise. It was salty, yet delicious, and she nursed it from his dick like a suckling babe. His fluid filled her cheeks, ballooning them until she could barely keep it all contained. A few drops dribbled down her chin. After a few seconds, though, the flow stopped, and her lungs began to burn from lack of air. $firstname swallowed loudly. The fluid slid down her throat to land warm and comfortable in the pit of her stomach. "Do you have any more?" $firstname asked through cum-stained lips. The gym teacher laughed. "Give me a minute." ____________________________________________________________ It was well passed the usual length of her detention when $firstname stumbled out of Mr. Pile's office. Her hair was a mess and her burps tasted of cum, but she was full, horny, and satisfied. A distant part of her knew she should find a cross and repent-- though it wasn't sex, something that felt and tasted that good had to be a sin-- but exhaustion stopped her. That and apathy. //I'll repent eventually,// she thought with a shrug. The calendar on her phone buzzed, reminding her of the shopping trip planned only yesterday with the cheer squad. "Fiddlecrack," she muttered, ducking into the nearest restroom to fix her hair and makeup. Even $firstname had to admit the wild untamed way her hair lay lent her a certain mystique. She looked like she'd just climbed out of someone's bed. It suited her. Then she frowned. $firstname didn't want to be the kind of girl that crawls out of strange men's beds. With irritation, she flattened her hair with water. It wasn't pretty, but she was a Christian, darn it. She flipped around and left the bathroom in a self-righteous huff. She tried to ignore Mr. Pile's cum sitting warm and comfortable in her stomach. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[After School]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Cheer Tryouts.]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Into the mall!]] <<elseif $day == 4>> <<if $bimbo == 4>> [[Home Fail 4]] <<else>> [[Home Success 4]] <</if>> <<elseif $day == 5>> <<if $bimbo == 5>> [[Home 5-- Fall]] <<else>> [[Home 5 Success]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

Despite only a three mile distance, it took the bus nearly two hours to drop $firstname in front of the massive downtown mall. $firstname spent the trip silently cursing America's terrible public transit system. That, and trying to not breathe in the smell of the filthy hobo speaking loudly at a little old lady next to him. She sat with a white face and white knuckles clutching a handbag and staring with the intensity of death itself at the seat in front of her. Apparently the hobo was running for President. $firstname wished him luck. He couldn't do worse than that Muslim-Atheist Obama. Stacy and Gabby met her just as she hopped the bus. Gabby embraced her in a warm hug, but Stacy just stared at her with an intensity $firstname feared might bore holes in her flesh. When $firstname frowned at her, the captain only muttered, "So much to do. So much very much to do," before walking off towards the mall. Gabby just shrugged and motioned for $firstname to follow. "A yellow micro-mini with a black bra," Stacy said more to herself than to anyone else. "Four inch heels and a black latex belt." She shoved the gathered clothes into $firstname's hand and waved her towards the changing room. $firstname paused, looking down with a frown at the assortment of fabric. "A bit revealing, isn't it?" Stacy blinked as if coming out of a trance. She smiled at $firstname in a maternal way. "Oh sweety, that's the whole point. March that pert ass into the changing room and let's see how they fit." But $firstname didn't move. "They're not really what I wear." Stacy adopted the stern frown of a parent watching their kid shit on the floor. "Darling, baby, honey, you've gotta understand that this," she waved lazily at $firstname's clothes, "Doesn't work. You look like something my cat threw up if the shit my cat threw up went to church. Get me? You're frumpy. This is just step one of making your ass presentable." "But I can't wear it to school." "You'd be surprised what you can get away with if you show a bit of leg," Stacy said. "Now stop dicking around and get changed. We've got a lot of stores left to visit and not much time to do it in." She smiled again at $firstname like a cat eying a piece of fish. "Your credit card is gonna smoke." [[Try it on]] [[No. God can smell blasphemy even in the changing room.]]

Stacy's glare made it clear that if $firstname wished to remain on the cheer squad then this was non-negotiable. $firstname flicked open the changing room curtain. "Watch my purse? $firstname asked over her shoulder. Stacy had already turned her attention back to the clothes rack. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just let us know when you're done." Though only a single square foot of space, the small changing room had a warm light. A small wooden bench stood shoved up against one wall. $firstname smiled at her reflection in the mirror. It showed her from three separate angles. She really was a pretty girl now-- thanks to God, of course. Some would say beautiful even. $firstname shrugged out of her clothes and let them fall in a heap on the floor. Without really knowing why, she frowned at them in disdain. Stacy was right. The outfit did feel a little frumpy. It was definitely not appropriate for a popular cheerleader like $firstname. She picked up the dress the other girl had left her with and began deciphering the countless straps, buckles, and belts that make up the Rubik's Cube that is women's fashion. She poured herself into the micro-mini. Just the act of donning the dress felt indecent. The latex slid across her skin like a lover's hands, setting her senses quivering, and when at last she managed to fit the bosom in place, she could feel every inch of herself as her gasping breaths sent her chest heaving. It fit her perfectly. The dress molded to her newly grown curves as if it'd been tailored to them, though $firstname feared she might burst the seams if she inhaled too deeply. And it felt so good! Every part of $firstname seemed on display, and just the thought of those countless male eyes watching her, enjoying her, it almost made her gush. She shook her head, but it did little to banish the fantasies parading through her skull. She could never wear it. What would her Daddy think? The dress was a walking billboard, an advertisement screaming that $firstname was a whore; a slut; that she wanted to get well and truly fucked. Daddy would never forgive his naughty, slutty little girl. Someone flicked the changing room curtain aside. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Spin for me]]

"I'm sorry," $firstname said, a hint of smug satisfaction coloring her tone. "But my eternal soul isn't worth a few pieces of fabric. I can't wear anything so... trashy." "So the clothes I like are trashy? Is that what you're saying?" Stacy asked. "No no no! I mean, yes? This outfit isn't really me. Do you understand?" "I understand that you think you're better than me." "Of course I don't," $firstname said quickly, raising her hands in an attempt to console. By the look in Stacy's face it didn't seem to work. "Not better, per se. I'm just more in tune with the universe, you know? God speaks to me in a way you couldn't possibly understand, and He says your tastes trashy." "No I didn't," God said. "I'd give my left testicle to see you parade around in that slut suit." "You do think you're better than me," Stacy said. Her voice sounded as if it could frost windows. "That's not what I'm saying at all!" $firstname protested. "How are you so stupid that you can't see that? We're equal in everything except for the many ways in which I excel: spiritual matters, fashion, intelligence, self control, social skills, beauty, plus too many others to count. Just because I transcend you doesn't mean you're hopeless. It just means you have some work to do." $firstname patted Stacy on her cheek. "A lot of work." "Here's what I do understand: you're off the cheer squad," Stacy said. "Gabby?" Gabby looked at $firstname with a mild expression of surprise. "I'm actually inclined to agree." "Fan-fucking-tastic!" Stacy said. "Now get the hell out of my face, $firstname." $firstname trudged out of the store. Stupid plebians not appreciating their betters. [[Home|Home Success 3]]

Stacy stood in the entryway with her hands on her hips. She examined $firstname head to toe without a trace of emotion. "Interesting," she said, and then motioned for $firstname to follow her. The two captains had moved their little operation a few racks away and amassed a rather tall mound of clothes. Gabby knelt, tossing outfits over her shoulder into one pile or another. An anxious salesman buzzed behind her, his frown deepening with every balled up dress or top. $firstname spun in place. "What do you think?" she asked. Gabby snorted. "You look like a bumblebee." "But it fits her so well," Stacy said, more to herself than to anyone else. She poked $firstname in the tit, and the girl bit back a moan. They'd been so sensitive lately. "Have you always been this... large?" Stacy grabbed a handful of $firstname's butt and released it. The meat bounced back into place. "What have you been eating?" //Cum,// $firstname thought. She tried to swallow, but found her mouth had gone dry. Just a few light touches from Stacy and $firstname felt ready to drag the next boy she saw into the changing room. That salesman looked kind of cute. Maybe she could find some time to-- $firstname shook her head, bringing herself back to the conversation. "Just fruits and vegies. I guess I'm blessed." "You must be popular with the boys," Gabby said. $firstname blushed and locked eyes with her heels. "I'm still a virgin." Stacy snorted even louder than Gabby had when she'd seen $firstname's outfit. "That won't last, especially if you keep growing. Boys can be rather persuasive." Anger blossomed in $firstname's chest. She thrust the hand with the silver purity ring in Stacy's face. "See this? I promised my Daddy I would remain pure until my wedding night, and when I make a promise I keep it." The captain frowned thoughtfully at $firstname. "I knew a girl that had one of those once." $firstname swallowed over a sudden lump that'd formed in her throat. "What happened to her?" "She got a boyfriend. Some greaser from out of town swept her off her feet and dumped her a week later," Stacy said. Her face was serious, though not hard. It was as if she were talking about the weather. "She started slow at first. A few drunk nights here and there, waking up the next day in a stranger's bed with messy hair. We used to tease her for it. But the one night stands grew more frequent. Every night, sometimes more. She'd follow one man home, do the deed, and then stumble off to find another. She began fucking them at school. Students, teachers, janitors, it didn't matter. Eventually the district expelled her when the principal found her caked in cum and moaning on the bathroom floor." Stacy blinked and smiled at $firstname. "But I'm sure that won't happen to you." She let her eyes drift to the pile of clothes. "Gabby is right, though. That dress does make you look like a bumblebee. Maybe cotton is more your fabric..." "No!" $firstname said suddenly, and then looked down at her naked legs. "I like latex." She hoped Stacy had been lying with that story of hers. The idea of someone falling so low unsettled her. Stacy smiled in a way that reminded $firstname of a wolf. "Another color then. Crimson will look good on you." Stacy handed $firstname another dress, this one cut even shorter, and a fresh pair of heels, sending her back towards the dressing room with a slap on her butt that echoed through the store. [[Check out!]]

Once Stacy had a firm grasp on $firstname's measurements, there was no end to the outfits she dumped into $firstname's arms. Each seemed designed to show as much skin as possible. None of them were of a kind $firstname could wear outside of course, nor in a place where her father might see. Most likely, she'd have find each of these outfits a home in the bottom most part of a box buried somewhere in the basement by the water heater. That said, $firstname had to admit, though she loathed to, that she was having fun. The risque outfits, the ample flashes of skin, the almost sure possibility of discovery, it all made her feel warm, and the more skin she showed the warmer she felt. The latex didn't help, either. Its plastic kiss sent chills rippling along her spine. Most disturbingly now, anything not made of latex, vinyl, or the smallest, tightest polyester made her skin itch. $firstname couldn't decide if cotton had always been so irritating, or if her experience with the bumblebee dress had just made her notice it more. She broke into a itching frenzy each time she tried to put on her bra, deciding eventually, going red in the face when she did so, to just to go without. It made pouring herself into the other tight clinging club dress' and microskirts easier, not to mention more natural. After a time, $firstname didn't even notice the embarassment. It felt right not to wear underwear. "We'll be next door getting smoothies," Stacy called through the changing room door. "Come find us once you've bought it all." $firstname stared at the large mound of clothes. She should put them back. They made her feel so pretty, though, and each had been handpicked by Stacy and Gabby, the two most popular girls in school. They'd be quite upset if all their work dressing her went to waste. Her Daddy would be upset with $firstname if she bought them. $firstname squirmed as a sudden surge of warmth flared through her pussy. She'd have to hide them. He could never know his darling little girl owned so many slutty clothes. They had to be her secret. She could bury them in her closet, taking them out and wearing them when he wasn't home. $firstname's hands trembled as she handed the stack of clothes to the salesman. He really was cute. She smiled at him as she reached for her purse. But where was it? She'd left her purse right next to the changing room some three hours ago. $firstname apologized to the salesclerk and ran off to find it. It wasn't there. She walked three laps around the neighboring racks, thinking she might've moved it without thinking. It didn't seem to be anywhere. Where had it gone? She'd told Stacy to watch it and-- oh. Realization struck her like a glacier. $firstname's purse was gone. The purse $firstname owned was gone. $firstname no longer owned a purse. "Are you ok, miss?" the sales guy asked. He wore a dull expression, as if he didn't really want an answer. Hope swelled within $firstname's chest. "Have you seen a purse? I left it sitting right over there." She pointed in the general area where she'd left it. The salesman's face didn't change. "I just got back from lunch." A glint in the ceiling caught $firstname's eye. "Security cameras! You have security cameras! I think somebody stole my purse. Could you check them?" The salesman sighed and rolled his eyes. "Miss, we wipe our security tapes every five minutes for security reasons," he said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "Now how are you going to pay for the clothes and damages?" $firstname blinked. "Damages? We didn't break anything." She looked around. Every piece of fabric the store had lay unfolded in countless piles. A small mound in the corner was heaped with torn bras, panties, and skirts that $firstname had hastened to remove once the itching set in. "Oh." "On top of that, both of your friends stole three dresses and a pair of heels. Now will that be cash or card?" "But I don't have any money! It was all in my purse!" The salesman sighed. "Then I'll have to call the police. They don't treat vandals and shoplifters too kindly in prison." He turned around and started towards the phone. $firstname's eyes widened in shock. "Please! I'll do anything, anything at all. Just tell me how I can work this off. Don't call the police." The salesman rubbed his chin and looked her up and down. He smiled a toothy grin. "Well, you could suck my cock." He reached down and unzipped himself, letting his dick flop meatily into his hands. It looked thick and hard. "I'll even let you keep those clothes you picked out." $firstname's eyes locked onto the cock. Her stomach growled as she licked her lips. "I really shouldn't," she began, not taking her eyes from the cock. She bit her lip. "What would my Daddy think?" The salesman's smile grew wider. "Just give it a kiss. One kiss and you can go. Nobody has to know." $firstname swallowed. "One kiss?" [[One peck can't hurt...]] [[Make a break for it]]

$firstname's nipples tented beneath the thin fabric of her blouse as she dropped to her knees. Her stomach growled, and she swallowed a sudden mouthful of drool. Grasping the salesman's cock in her hand-- her fingers looked so small wrapped about something so thick-- she paused with her lips inches from its pulsing head. "All I have to do is kiss it, right? And then you'll let me go?" The salesman grinned at her. "Put those pretty lips of yours to use." Heat radiated from the man's cock. It pulsed with a life of its own, growing with every beat of the salesman's heart. $firstname could feel the man's blood flow through his groin and into his dick. $firstname's inner voice screamed at her. It told her to stop, to pull away, to flee from his sinful organ. Instead she pressed her lips against its tip. Flavor exploded in her mouth like a firework. She opened it wider, taking more of the cock's decadent taste onto her tongue. A moan tore from deep within her throat as great gollops of sticky drool made their way down her chin to darken patches in the department store floor. She moved her head along his shaft, her mouth formed into a perfect 'O'. $firstname should stop. If she hoped to keep this from going too far, as if it hadn't already, she should stop now. $firstname's mouth left the cock with a loud pop. More drool dribbled down her chin, and her vision felt crosseyed as happy hormones sent her thoughts swimming. "So I'm free to go, right?" she said, her hand still unconsciously working his shaft. His skin felt amazing in her hand. "Oh no. You didn't meet the terms of the deal," the salesman said. "I said kiss it. I don't know what that was, but it sure as shit wasn't a kiss." "Oh come on, please?" $firstname whined. Her fingers moved faster beneath her skirt. "I just-I just want to go. Please let me go." "Just kiss the tip. That's all you have to do." $firstname's willpower shattered. She thrust the cock down her throat in a choking swallow, clinging to his thighs in a deathgrip as the store filled with a whorish slurp and gurgle. Frantically, she slid her lips along its length. The salesman grasped her hair and tightened, sending thrilling slashes of pain down $firstname's spine. She moaned again, louder this time. The head of the salesman's cock pulsed against her tongue. Then he exploded. $firstname's mouth flooded with a hot and salty fluid, filling her cheeks and spilling down her chin. She swallowed eagerly. She could feel it sitting deep in her stomach. It felt warm. It felt satisfying. $firstname burped and wiped a strand of cum that dangled from her chin. She stuffed it in her mouth, savoring its flavor before swallowing. "Am I free to go?" The salesman panted into his knees. "Still haven't kissed it," he said between great gasps of air. "Holy shit that was amazing." $firstname gathered the now limp cock in her hand. Its head still glistened with spent seed. It wouldn't do to leave it dirty. She wrapped her mouth along its length, pulling it clean with a loud pop. Then she planted a single kiss on its tip. The dick twitched when she did, as if saying thank you. $firstname suppressed a sudden urge to coax it to a second round. Instead, she rose to pick up her clothes and stumble out the door. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Next]]

$firstname sighed regretfully. She turned from the salesman's bobbing cock and made a break for the door. The salesman yelped and tried to follow, but tripped over his pants and landed face first on the floor. With a wave, she left him behind and ran out into the mall. $firstname found Stacy and Gabby sipping Jamba Juice in the food court. She took a moment to straighten herself and ease her breathing before she approached. They hadn't bought her a smoothie. "Someone stole my purse," $firstname said. She stood like a supplicant at the end of the table. Stacy sipped slowly at her drink. She watched $firstname through expressionless eyes. $firstname shifted her weight from foot to foot. Those eyes seemed to bore into her, stripping and laying bare her secrets. "If you didn't want the clothes then why didn't you say so?" Stacy said finally. "You don't need to concoct some stupid lie. We aren't forcing you into anything. I don't like liars, $firstname." $firstname's tears welled up. First her purse and now this? "I-I'm telling the truth," $firstname squeeked. Stacy snorted. "I doubt that. Your purse got stolen with both of us there? We didn't see anybody else in the store, except the clerk. What about the cameras? Or him, did you ask the salesman where it went? Come on, $firstname. Let's see what lie that stupid brain of yours spews forth this time." "Stacy!" Gabby said. "Do you see a purse on her? She could be telling the truth." "Or she could've dumped it someplace to cover her tracks!" [[Hey, fuck you!]] [[Stand there and take it like a bitch]]

$firstname stumbled into a small alcove and panted into its corner. She let the clothes fall into a jumble beside her. They were so pretty, and their fabric felt amazing on her skin, but had she just sucked a stranger's cock to get them? What did that make her? //A whore,// an uncomfortable voice within her answer. $firstname fiddled with her silver purity ring. No, she wasn't a whore. $firstname was a good church going girl. She'd always been a good girl. //Good girls don't use their bodies to pay for dresses.// $firstname moaned. Her fingers drifted towards her aching loins. The voice was right. She was a sinner. She'd wanted to blow the salesman. All she had to do was kiss the head of his cock, but she couldn't control herself long enough for even that. Instead she'd dropped to her knees and worshipped him. And what's more, $firstname wanted to do it again, and again, and again, until she was nothing more than a cum stuffed girl stumbling from cock to cock. //What's wrong with that?// What was wrong with that? It wasn't like she'd had sex. Blowing a stranger and fucking one were two entirely different things, and if she happened to get something out of it then so much the better. The bible didn't say anything about a little oral exercise But it did say something about lust, and $firstname couldn't deny that she'd comitted that little transgression and done so with great enthusiasm. Lately she'd been a walking cauldron of hormones, and it seemed that with each orgasm her need grew stronger. Well, no more. She made a proclamation right then and there that she'd be a good girl. The salesman was to be the last, glorious cock she'd wrap her lips around. With that resolved, $firstname gathered her clothes and went in search of Stacy and Gabby. As she went though, she ran her tongue along her lips, searching for any stray drops of seed she might've missed. [[Home|Home Fail 3]]

"I asked you to look after it," $firstname whispered. "What's that?" Stacy said. "I'm sorry, my ears have trouble hearing liars." "I asked you to look after it! Both of you! It's your fault it's gone!" $firstname shouted. The food court hum broke off as strangers turned to stare. She clenched her shaking fists. She'd never been this angry. "I asked your stupid, smug little face to do one thing. One simple thing! One! And you fringled that up!" $firstname anger built to a head. "Stacy, I don't know if you're stupid or just incompetent, but if you ever call me a liar again I will gut you and use your entrails to wallpaper my bathroom!" "Woah, I-- Uh. Sorry?" "No, fuck you! Where the hell do you get off? And if I didn't want to buy your stupid clothes then that's my choice! Not yours!" Gabby threw her arms around $firstname and pulled her in for a hug. "There there. Calm down. Do you want a smoothie? Let's get you a smoothie." "I can't afford one," $firstname grumbled. "My treat. While we're gone, Stacy is going to call the police and when they get here we'll give them a full report on your purse, ok?" Gabby shot a look at Stacy over $firstname's shoulder. Something broke within $firstname and she began to cry. Fat tears made dark patches on Gabby's shirt. "It's gone. It's really gone. Father is going to crucify me," she sobbed. Gabby patted the top of $firstname's head. "There there. It'll be ok." $firstname almost believed her. [[Home|Home Success 3]]

"I didn't dump my purse," $firstname mumbled into her chest. "Spoken just like a person who dumped their purse!" Stacy said. "Why are you such a piece of shit, $firstname? Why? Is it because your daddy never loved you? Or is it because he loved you too much?" "You-you're a piece of shit," $firstname mumbled back. "What's that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of how much of a bitch you are. Do you know why Gabby is so nice to you?" "Stacy!" Gabby said. Stacy threw out her hand to silence the other captain. "No, she needs to hear this. It's because she feels sorry for you. Sorry! As if a pitiful little worm like yourself is worth wasting even one iota of compassion. I care more about the dumps I take each morning than I do about your whiny ass." Stacy began to pace. People from other tables in the food court were looking at them now. $firstname face turned red as she tried to sink into her seat. //Turn the other cheek. Turn the other cheek,// she chanted in her mind. "Honestly, as worthless as you are I think you should just go ahead and kill yourself," Stacy said. "Free us all from having to feel sorry for you." "You should murder her," God whispered. "Even my son wouldn't stand for this level of abuse, and he's a failure." "Oh come on, Dad," Jesus said. "Get a job you hippie!" [[Murder her]]

$firstname's father paced across the living room. He moved with great, steady strides, eating up half the room in a single step, coming to a wall, pivoting, and repeating the movement. She feared he might wear a hole in the carpet if he kept going the way he was. A beige corded phone, another relic from her mother, sat in the middle of the carpet like a monument. Her father glared at it each time he passed. $firstname could tell he was in the grip of one of his rages. He got like that from time to time, usually when things weren't going well at work, or when the Jehova's Witnesses came by. "Why won't she call?" he muttered to himself, his eyes locked on the phone. "She said she'd call today." A beer dangled half drunk from between his fingers. An empty box sticking out of the recycling said it wasn't his first. He hadn't noticed she'd come home. "Daddy?" $firstname said, a bit hesitant. If he really was in a foul mood then it wasn't smart to interrupt him. Then again, it wasn't smart to startle him either, and crossing the living room to get to the stairs would certainly do that. A no win situation. Her father rounded on her, his eyes flaring. In an instant, he took her in from head to toe. "What are you wearing?" he said in a voice like ice. It nearly made her shiver. $firstname swallowed. She wasn't wearing anything too bad. It was just a knee length skirt and a tight button up blouse, one of the pieces she'd bought with Stacy earlier. Then again, $firstname supposed that compared with the pilgrim dresses she'd worn just the week before, it must've seemed down right scandalous. Of course she'd hidden the worst outfits in a bush a half block away. Those her daddy could never know about. She'd retrieve them later, when he was safely drunk and asleep. "I went back to school shopping with some new friends," $firstname said with as much cheer as she could muster. She twirled in place. The hem of her skirt flared dangerously out. "Do you like it?" Her father's face darkened. "You look like a slut. No child of mine is going to parade around in something like that. Take it off. Take it off I said!" He loomed over her. "No," she mumbled quietly into her shoes. "I said go upstairs and change!" $firstname's mouth suddenly tasted like iron. Rage flared within her breast. She made herself look up and meet his eye. "No! I like these clothes! Why can't I wear what I like to wear?! Why does it always have to be you who decides? Maybe I'm tired of wearing potato sacks. Did you think of that?!" Her father wirled around and chucked his half filled bottle against the wall. It shattered in a loud crash of falling glass. "Because it's my house and my rules, and as long as you live under my roof you obey! What would your mother think if she saw you dressed like that? Do you want to disapoint her?!" The windows vibrated with his powerful voice. "How can I disapoint someone who isn't here?! You drove her away! You! It's your fault she isn't here! You're a terrible father and I hate you!" "Clearly I need to teach you some respect," her father said. He grabbed her roughy by the arm and yanked her to the couch, kicking the phone across the room as he went. It crashed against the wall and began to beep. He threw her over his knee and pinned her at the neck. With his other hand, he lifted her skirt. "What's this?!" he roared again. $firstname could feel his voice thunder through his thigh. "What the heck is this?!" It was $firstname's panties. They were red and lacy, cut with gaps and almost sheer. Even $firstname had to admit they were pretty slutty, but they'd been so pretty, and felt so good against her skin, that she couldn't pass them up. Besides, they matched her bra. With a feral growl, her father grabbed them and tore them from her thighs with a loud snap. A gust of cool air blew across her naked flesh. "No daughter of mine is going to dress like a common street whore. Do you understand me?" He slapped her hard with all of his force. $firstname let loose a small yelp. "You're stupid and I hate you!" He slapped her again, and $firstname could feel his hand burn an imprint on her butt. The pain tingled. "I hate you," she said, quieter this time. "Disobedient! Little! Slut!" her father roared. He punctuated each word with another slap. "Do you understand me?!" $firstname suppressed a moan. "Yes daddy." "Say it again!" "Yes daddy!" $firstname really did moan this time when his hand connected with her ass. Despite herself, she smiled as something firm and hard pressed against her stomach. She licked her lips as her tryst with the salesman replayed itself in her mind. Her daddy didn't know about that. How hard would he spank her if he did? Her father's voice dragged her back to reality. "What are you dressed as?!" $firstname shrieked as his hand came down. "A whore, daddy! I'm dressed like a whore!" Her father growled. She could feel his erection throbbing against her stomach. He shoved her off his thigh and onto the floor. She landed with a squeek. "Go upstairs and think about what you've done," he said. "You're grounded." He was red faced and panting, and $firstname had the sneaking suspicion it wasn't entirely from his exertion. $firstname rose, rubbing at her stinging butt. She could still feel the outline of his hand upon her ass. "Yes daddy," she said as meek as she could. The phone still lay beeping in the corner. The sound of her father mixing another drink faded behind her as $firstname climbed the stairs. So he thought she dressed like a whore did he? What would he think if he saw her in the outfits she had hidden in the bush? $firstname grinned to herself. She could hardly wait for him to fall asleep. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Night 3]]

Something snapped within $firstname. "You're right, I should kill myself," she said. "But I can't go anywhere if I know you're still here when I'm gone." "Excuse me?" Stacy said. "I'm going to murder you with this napkin dispensor." $firstname picked up and hefted the metal dispensor from the table. "Sure you are," Stacy said. "A little bitch like you has the guts to take me out. Do it. This oughta be good." $firstname smashed the napkin dispensor across Stacy's jaw. Teeth skittered along the food court linoleum. Stacy clutched her face, blood and tears leaking from between her fingers. "What the hell?!" But $firstname ignored her. She brought the dispensor down upon Stacy's skull. A sickening, yet viscerally satisfying, crunch echoed throughout the food court. The force of the blow sent Stacy sprawling unconscious across the floor. $firstname straddled her. The dispensor was nothing more than a dented hunk of metal, but it was all $firstname needed it to be. She smashed it into the back of the girl, slamming it again and again into her skull. Brains squished as bones crunched, covering $firstname in a cloud of red mist. Occasionally the captain twitched, but even those weak shudders of life grew few and far between. Finally, panting, $firstname stood up. She let the shapeless hunk of metal fall to the floor with a clang. Blood pooled in a wide arc around the corpse at her feet. The food court stared in horror. A few people screamed mutely into their cell phones, their voices lost in a loud ringing that'd risen in $firstname's ears. "Kill them all," God said. His voice cut through the din like a hot knife. "I'll sort them out later." $firstname hopped the counter of a Panda Express and pushed passed the screaming clerk. She went in the back and turned the gas on the grills to full. The room filled with the sweet scent of propane. With a smile, she picked up a book of matches. Somewhere far away came the sound of approaching sirens. "Deus Vult," $firstname said, and struck the match. --The End--

The sound of her father mixing drinks and shouting faded behind $firstname with a soft click. She leaned against the door and sighed. Had her father really gotten an erection just from spanking her? Certainly not. It was probably his keys, or his wallet. He'd been punishing her that way since she was a little girl, and that's all that was: a punishment. $firstname certainly hadn't enjoyed it. Well, maybe she had. Just a little bit. But that wasn't her fault or anything. She could chalk it up to the recent surge of hormones that came along with her changing body. Her father was right, though. She'd grown quite interested in clothes of late, and the more revealing the better it seemed. Certainly what she wore right now would've shocked the old version of her senseless, though now it just seemed a little bland. Comfortable, but bland. Perhaps it was time to take a step back? <> <<if $pray == 0>> [[Pray|Pray 1]] <<elseif $pray == 1>> [[Pray|Pray 2]] <<elseif $pray == 2>> [[Pray|Pray 3]] <<elseif $pray == 3>> [[Pray|Pray 4]] <</if>> <> But then again, why should she? $firstname stepped in front of her mirror and gave herself a slow twirl. She was beautiful, and growing more beautiful everyday. It would be an insult to God, an insult to His magnificant work, if she hid herself away. <> <<if $model == 0>> [[Model|Model 1]] <<elseif $model == 1>> [[Model|Model 2]] <<elseif $model == 2>> [[Model|Model 3]] <<elseif $model == 3>> [[Model|Model 4]] <</if>> <> $firstname's stomach suddenly rumbled. What had she even eaten all day? Just cum it seemed. Lots of cum. It wasn't a sin of course-- she hadn't had sex-- but just the memory of sliding her lips along Mr. Pile's cock made her mouth water. She didn't want to wait for tomorrow to do it again. If only she hadn't made that promise... <> <<if $explore == 0>> [[Explore|Explore 1]] <<elseif $explore == 1>> [[Explore|Explore 2]] <<elseif $explore == 2>> [[Explsore|Explore 3]] <<elseif $explore == 3>> [[Explore|Explore 4]] <</if>> <>

$firstname went to her altar. When God had first told her to sin, she'd been nervous. But now, as she knelt and cast her eyes towards heaven, she understood: God wanted her to experience all that life had to offer. She couldn't very well choose to follow without knowing what it was exactly she was choosing to give up. Blind obedience was no true way to love the Lord. She felt filthy, like the sweat from the other night's session had worked its way into her flesh. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, though. Still, $firstname much preferred purity. She was eager to rid herself of this filthy cloud that seemed to block her sight of the Lord. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been two days since my last confession." "Nope," God answered. "You aren't even close to needing My help yet. That little masturbation session was hot, but everyone frigs themselves." $firstname paused. Pleasure was sin. She'd experienced that first hand the other night. If God wanted her to sin, then $firstname needed to find life's greatest source of pleasure. "My Lord, what is best in life?" "Crush your enemies. See them driven before you. Hear the lamentation of their women." $firstname sighed, anger blossoming in her chest. "No, My Lord. What is best for me?" God shifted in his arm chair, opening another cheap can of beer. He took a long draught and swallowed with a satisfied sigh. "Let me give you a place where you can figure that out for yourself." He snapped his fingers, and the world around $firstname shifted. Colors began to blur together as the ground trembled and melted. The whole experience made her feel sick. When $firstname opened her eyes, she found herself in a perfectly square room with white walls and a white floor. It held no furniture, no door nor window, and the air, though cool, seemed to stand still. The only sound she could hear was her own heart beat pounding in her ears. "This is yours. I give it you," God said. "Think of it like the holo deck on Star Treck." $firstname tilted her head in confusion. Her father had never allowed her to watch Star Trek. He argued that anything on the television-- with the exception of the Bible Channel, of course-- was created by the Jews, and, by extension, a tool used to further their ends in the World Government. Everyone knew that. God sighed, and somehow $firstname knew he was massaging his temples. "This room can become anything you can dream of," He said. "I want you to watch." God snapped his fingers, and suddenly $firstname found herself standing on a moon. Over the horizon, $firstname watched as a galaxy of brilliant lights clawed upwards into the sky. The galaxy's stars twinkled in the void like countless precious jewels trapped in a black mountain face. A jet of broiling gas thousands of light years long shot from that cloud of gas and stars, firing into the void and upwards to oblivion. Tears streamed down $firstname's face, but she hardly noticed them. A sense of loss filled her. She could go her entire life and never again see something so beautiful. In a blink, the room became again its original white walls and white floor. Or maybe they weren't walls. Maybe it was simply infinity that she stared into. Madness gnawed at the edge of her mind. "Now you try," God said, snapping her from her downward spiral of insanity. $firstname girded herself. The room could become anything she wanted. Anything at all. She focused on a single spot in that eternal plane of nothing, frowning as sweat beaded on her forehead. She felt shift in the fundamental fabric of the universe around her, then pop, and then a wooden chair appeared before her. The chair was fine craftsmanship, though plain. It stood featureless and boring in the spot $firstname had imagined it. Unfortunately, the thing only had three legs, and it was so unbalanced that it tilted after appearing, falling to the floor with a disapointing clatter. $firstname frowned at it. $firstname tried again. She snapped her fingers. Three feet above the chair, a white poster with a worried looking cat hanging from a branch popped into existence. 'Hang in there' was emblazoned across the bottom in black letters. The poster floated slowly, coming to rest in a heap over the broken chair. "Whelp, I'll leave you to it. Good luck, whatever-your-name-is," God said. <<set $pray = 3>> [[Please state the nature of the medical emergency]]

$firstname pussy smoldered in a low burn. Her hands shook, her mouth went dry, and her thoughts drifted to men. Men of countless shapes and sizes dominated her imagination, rubbing their calloused hands across her sensitive skin. $firstname moaned in anticipation, but her moan of desire turned into one of despiar as she opened her eyes to find herself alone in her bedroom. On a breath of wind carried through her bedroom window, $firstname heard the primal thrum of bass. She knew its source. The Club. She shouldn't be able to hear it from this distance, but hear it she did. It thrummed within her very soul. The sound beckoned her. She tried to drive it away, to drown it with recorded hymns, but no meditation or prayer could banish its siren's call. Eventually $firstname could take it no longer. She rose from her bed and pulled on some some semblance of modesty, stumbling down the stairs and out of the house. <<set $explore = 3>> "I'll dance with a few guys," she whispered frantically to herself. "Just enough to take the edge off." <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Queue the wubstep]]

Despite all of the outfits she'd bought, $firstname still felt like something was missing. The clothes fit. They fit beautifully. They hugged her curves in a way that made her smile. Just feeling them against her skin made her happy and warm, and she wanted more. $firstname's jewlery was lacking, and she could use a new pair of heels. Two-inch pumps were just so short. But she was broke. All the money $firstname managed to earn jilling in front of strangers was gone. That was ok, though. She knew of a way to get more. With a smile, $firstname stripped to her underwear and flicked on her monitor. Already a dozen people loitered in her chat room, watching reruns of her from the other night. $firstname sped through a couple. They were pretty hot. "Howdy everyone," $firstname typed, punctuating it with a small winky face at the end of her sentance. "I'm SO bored tonight. Maybe you all could keep me company?" Her hand slid between her thighs. She was already wet. "Chastity's back!" one user typed. "Welcome back Chastity!" Chastity was $firstname's creation. She'd thought up the online persona to handle any questions $firstname couldn't. Thrilling though the thought was, $firstname didn't want her father to find out about her little side project. He might take her computer away, and then how could she afford all her clothes? Chastity was a slut; a woman known around her school as cheap enough to be bought with a handful of pocket change. She wore pink, when she wore anything at all, with bright lipstick, painted nails, and a fetish for everything plastic. Best of all though, Chastity loved answering questions. "Chastity, how many guys have you fucked?" one user wrote. "Do you mean today? Or just in the last hour?" Chastity wrote back. $firstname's computer dinged. She loved it when it did that. Every donation sent a small thrill rippling through her, further fueling the furnace that that roared between her thighs. She wanted more. "Who'd you lose your virginity to?" another wrote. "I can't remember their names." Her computer dinged again, and $firstname let out a small moan. Her hand moved faster between her thighs and her vision swam. It was getting hard to stay coherant. "How much would it cost to have you to blow me?" OldJizzer420 wrote. He was her favorite. "How much are you offering?" she wrote back, slipping deeper into character. $firstname wouldn't do it of course, but the thought of her-- no, not her, Chastity-- going to some stranger's house and sucking their cock for a couple wads of cheap paper made $firstname wet. "Twenty bucks," OldJizzer420 wrote. Suddenly the chat sprang to life. "I'd pay to see that!" The computer dinged. "Me too!" It dinged again. "You're my hero, Chastity!" "You white knight faggots. Chastity is such a slut she'd probably do it for free." "Don't call my waifu a slut!" $firstname gripped the edge of her wooden desk hard enough to turn her knuckes white. She rode an endless parade of quivering sensations, the apex of which coincided to the donation dings ringing from her computer with metronome like regularity. In the middle of her swimming vision and the flood of messages she spotted OldJizzer420's cold black letters. Their message branded an address upon her mind. "If you're interested, come to room twenty-seven at the Palm's Inn and Suites. I'll be waiting." $firstname licked her lips. She'd promised herself she wouldn't suck another cock. She was done. There was no way she was going to that hotel. Her stomach rumbled. //Chastity didn't promise,// that annoying voice reminded her. <<set $model = 3>> Maybe she would go to the hotel. Not because she was going to go through with it, $firstname wasn't that kind of girl, but just to see if it existed, you know? Maybe OldJizzer420 was yanking her around. It was worth a trip just to check. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Check to see if the hotel exists.]]

The Palms Inn used to be a nice hotel. Back in the seventies, its neighbors were a field of cows and a steakhouse, and it made a handsome profit catering to the traveling middle class. Eventually, though, time passed, and today a liquor store has replaced the field and a pay-day loan building the steakhouse. Iron bars now guard the inn's windows, and half its rooms are out of service due to vandalism. A sunbleached sign in multicolored text stands out front advertising the inn's, "Color T.V!" $firstname had come in character: tall heels, thick pink lipstick, and a dress that ended four inches too high to be considered decent. A lewd plastic clack heralded her steps on the filthy concrete. //Why did I come like this? It's not like I'm going to meet anybody,// $firstname thought. She took a wide step over a used condom laying in the middle of the sidewalk. A whore dressed just as lewdly as $firstname passed her by. $firstname spotted the words, "Follow me for a good time," tattoed above her ass. //Maybe I should get my domain tattoed somewhere. It'd be good advertisement.// $firstname shook her head. What was she thinking? This job was about building a new wardrobe and nothing else. The second her closet was full she would stop. //Yep, the hotel's real,// she thought finally. That meant she could go home. But what if OldJizzer420 had given her a fake room number? What if there were only twenty-six rooms, or what if, for whatever reason, The Palms Inn skipped room twenty-seven and went straight to twenty-eight? $firstname had to know. She went looking. $firstname walked past half cracked doors with scenes of carnal sins playing inside, past the moans of whores and the drug addled screams of schizo's, and past cat calls and shouts, only to arrive, at last, at room twenty-seven. Its little brass numbers had fallen and now dangled by a single screw upside down, leaving behind a faint outline in their place. //There is no possible way OldJizzer420 is in that room,// $firstname thought. What kind of person contacted a girl on the internet just to invite them to a motel? The room was probably empty, or even if someone was inside it probably wouldn't be him. //One way or another I'm going to reveal this farce for what it is.// She knocked against the thick wood door. A bolt slid on the other side. [[Open the damn door already.*]]

The man that answered was handome in a well groomed middle aged kind of way. Strands of silver-grey lay in a nest of thick, brown hair. He clearly paid special attention to his fitness, for despite his age his stomach was flat and his arms held a distinct definition. $firstname felt the blood drain from her head and rush to her groin. She felt dizzy, thirsty, and weak. //It's probably not even him,// she thought. "Chastity?" the man said, opening the door wide. "Why don't you come inside?" //I am not going into that room.// $firstname took a step and the man closed the door behind her. Her knees trembled. "Are you--?" "Yes, but call me 'Sir'." He walked slowly around her, and she could feel his eyes trace every line of her too short dress and voluptuous curves. $firstname yelped as his hand lifted the meat of her ass and dropped it with a bounce back into place. "You'll do. Tell me, Chastity, does your daddy know what kind of girl you are?" "My daddy doesn't know where I am." $firstname tracked Sir's bulge as it grew within his pants. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. Sir shoved the money into the wide crack of her exposed bosom. Half of the green paper suck out of her cleavage, tickling her chin. //Don't accept his money. Don't accept his money,// she chanted inside herself. $firstname shoved the cash deeper into her breasts. Sir watched with a smile. "I hope you don't mind if I record this. I figured a vapid slut like you would want to share it with the world." He presented her with a laptop open to her homepage. "Login." She did so. From five separate angles $firstname saw herself in her tight, pink mini, tall heels, and bulging tits. She saw Chastity. She saw what she had become. It wasn't too late to leave. She could walk out the door and be twenty dollars richer. Sir unzipped his pants and all thoughts of leaving fled her mind. His cock flopped from its inadequete confines to hang at the lowest most edge of $firstname's dress. Her mouth watered. She could feel Sir's masculine energy waft off him in waves. "On your knees, slut," Sir said. $firstname obeyed instantly. His cock dangled inches from her mouth. She opened her lips. //Don't break your promise,// a viscious little voice whispered inside herself. //Don't become a slut.// The voice seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in her struggle, as if failure would bring as much satisfaction as success. Dollops of drool fell from $firstname's parted lips. Fuck it. She'd had two today. What was a third in the grand scheme of things? //Or a fourth? Or a fifth?// that annoying voice said again. His scent was heavenly, like a field hand brushed by a faint dusting of cologne. $firstname's breasts heaved as she inhaled his smell with great gulps of air. With a swallow, she took his cock between her lips and shoved it down her throat, leaving behind a bright pink ring at its base. She used that ring, driving his dick into and out of her mouth, struggling to match first first thrust. $firstname's lungs burned. Tears and mascara ran in great black streaks down her cheeks. Still, she kept on, swallowing Sir's glorious cock in one choking gasp after another. His precum was the most delicious taste she'd ever had on her tongue. Time seemed to lose all meaning. She could spend a life time on her knees servicing this one cock and not regret a thing. When at last Sir tightened his grip on the back of her head, $firstname smiled. She loved the rough way men treated her hair in their height of passion. It made her feel used. "Get ready," Sir grunted, tightening his grip in her hair. $firstname squeeked in pain, but moved faster all the same. She couldn't have pulled her lips from his dick if the pope himself sat in the room. Guzzling cum was the best part of sucking cock. The feel of a man's seed sitting warm and comfortable in the pit of her stomach was what pushed the whole experience from merely satisfying to addicting. Sir twitched and groaned. $firstname felt the first strands of his cum strike the back of her throat as seman filled her mouth. Choking on the sudden burst of fluid, she pulled her lips from his head with a wet pop. Drops of seed spurted only to fall uncaught between her heaving breasts, staining the fabric of her pink mini dark. The dress smelled like him. She liked it better that way. Sir reached into her breasts and gathered a gollop of his cum. He used the seed to draw a cross on $firstname's forehead, and from his wallet he pulled another twenty dollar bill, slapping it over the cross of cum. The bill stayed in place. "A tip for your efforts," he said. The computer dinged, and suddenly $firstname realized that itd's been doing that near constantly since she'd started. "Looks like you're making money," Sir said. "I think you should keep going." "Huh?" $firstname mumbled. The cum sitting warm and happy in her stomach made her head swim. She gatherd the remnant's of Sir's seed on her finger and stuck it in her mouth. "Chastity is sucking cock for twenty dollars a pop in room twenty-seven at the Palm's Inn," Sir typed. "She's cheap and hungry. Come fill her up." Sir gathered his things and opened the door. "I'm going to leave you the laptop and cameras. Have fun," he said, shutting the door behind him. $firstname watched him go with dull eyes. Her stomach growled. //It's not like anybody is going to show up,// she thought, seating herself unsteadily on the bed. Just for a lark she'd wait and see. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

The club was everything $firstname remembered and more. She inhaled its sticky sweet mixture of sweat and alcohol. The smell filled her nostrils, flooding her mind and sending her thoughts swimming. Her libido rumbled, urging $firstname forward. She took a step, and then another, and another, and then she found herself standing in the midst of the writhing, dancing mob of flesh and sex. The mob's energy washed across her like a wave. $firstname spied a man in a tailored button up shirt. The faint dusting of stubble darkened his cheeks and lip. It looked good on him. The hair seemed to help outline his rather strong jaw, and her libido rumbled as she traced the muscles beneath his shirt with her eyes. Without really knowing what she was doing, $firstname grabbed him by the shirt and pressed her lips against his. His eyes widened in surprise. He tasted... good. Very good. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, savoring the flavor of his lips, of the feel of his growing bulge pressing firm against her thigh. The strange boy tried to push to her away, but she only clung to him tighter. She rubbed her hand along the outline of his shaft, reveling at the rough way his denim jeans scraped against her palm. His cock grew larger at her touch, and then he stopped resisting. $firstname's mouth began to water. //You promised,// some distant voice reminded her firmly. $firstname crushed it brutally. She wasn't doing anything wrong, nor was she about to. How could she in the middle of all these people? Somehow $firstname found herself in the bathroom. Had the strange man dragged her there, or had it been the other way around? The man shoved her into the far stall and slammed the door behind him. Small drops of lubricant dripped from her naked pussy. Where had her panties gone? The faint memory of the man tearing them from her thighs and tossing them into a cheering crowd surfaced and then receded again. It wasn't important. What was important was the firm cock that now dangled inches from her parted lips. Saliva pooled in her mouth and dribbled down her chin. //You promised.// $firstname moaned in frustration. Her hand dove between her thighs as the bathroom filled with her wet schlick. Surely one taste wasn't enough to damn her... Her mouth drifted closer to the dick's head. Somehow, though, $firstname found the strength to pull back. "I can't," she said, somewhat breathless. "I promised not to suck anymore cock today." The stranger blinked. "Today? Why am I not surprised?" He grabbed $firstname by the hair and dragged her to her feet. $firstname's eyes welled at the pain. He turned her around and shoved her over the toilet. A breeze blew past her naked slit. The man massaged her slit. $firstname felt a few drops of lubricant work their way down the inside of her thigh. "No," she moaned half heartedly, pressing back against his hand. "I'm saving myself." The stranger massaged faster. His fingers felt so good. "Don't lie to me, slut. I know you want this cock." $firstname did. She really, really did. Her mind swam through a haze of hormones. The stranger's head pressed against her entrance, and she felt herself begin to open. "Stop! I'm a good girl! I'm a good girl!" she moaned frantically, her mouth saying one thing while her hips struggled to push themselves back, to take him fully inside her. Then, an idea ocurred to her. "Put it in my butt!" He complied, pressing against her tiny hole with a slow but irresistable pressure. $firstname felt herself open as a tingle began in her toes and spread to her finger tips. She trembled, tightening and releasing her grip on the ceramic seat with each centimeter of the strange man's glorious cock. "Deeper," $firstname moaned. She didn't care who could hear. Let them know. Let them all know that $firstname $lastname was getting ass-fucked in a dirty public restroom. The stranger shoved into her faster. His breath came in sharp gasps, and sweat beaded on his muscular chest. He brought his palm against her butt, and a loud slap echoed through the bathroom. "Fuck, you are tight," he grunted through grit teeth. His fingers bit deep into the meat of her ass, leaving white patches where he clutched. He grabbed her hair and yanked, and $firstname let loose a shriek of pleasure. Suddenly, the stranger yanked out of her, and $firstname felt the first scattered drops of his cum land on her upper back. She lamented not taking it in her mouth. Strength seemed to drain out of her. She collapsed limp over the porcelain seat, panting and sweating. The room spun around her in a dizzying dance. "More," she mouthed soundlessly. The stall door opened and shut. "She's all yours," the stranger said. A zipper lowered somewhere behind $firstname as a fresh set of hands took hold of her hips. A new cock pressed against her hole. She pushed against it, opening herself with a low moan. Throughout the night, cock replaced cock, hands replaced hands, and it wasn't long before $firstname lost count of the number that had used her. Cum sloshed inside her stomach and dripped down her thighs, and her clothes were crusty with dried seed. Still, she licked her lips and hungered for more. $firstname stumbled home and through the door as the first rays of dawn crept over the horzon. Tiny footprints of cumollowed her up the stairs. She collapsed in her bed with barely two hours before she had to rise again. Sleep closed in. Just before $firstname drifted off, though, she smiled. She had managed to keep her promise. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

There's a scene in classic Disney when The Prince kisses Snow White. She wakes up to all the forest animals and dwarves gathered in the clearing, and her hair is just as beautiful as the day she laid down to die. The Prince then sweeps Snow White out of her bed of glass and gold and carries her off to a shining castle in the sky. They live happily ever after. That scene is a lie. A filthy, filthy lie. At some point in the night, $firstname managed to turn herself upside down against her bed's wooden backboard. The full force of her weight pressed down into the crack and drove her neck and face into the small seperation between backboard and mattress. Turning her head hurt, and when at last she managed to pull her head and shoulders from that crack, like King Arthur drawing the sword from the stone, she found it was almost impossible opening her eyes against the thick lining of crust and sand that clogged their corners. Fitted sheets, popped from their place along the edge of the bed, wrapped themselves around $firstname. Light poured through their thin fabric. $firstname fought against them, struggling to free herself from their clinging embrace, but her struggles only tangled her further. $firstname rolled out of bed and landed on the floor with a loud umph. <<set $day = 4>> Getting free, $firstname stood and stepped in front of the mirror. <> <<if $transformed == 1>> <<if $slut lte 2>> <<set $bimbo = 1>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 2>> <<if $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 3>> <<if $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 4>> <<if $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

$firstname stepped into class to find the words 'Pop Quiz Today' written in bright red letters across the whiteboard. The class stared at Mr. Sprinkle in expectation, and he stared back with disapointment. The faint smell of alcohol floated about his person, but no more than was to be expected from any public school teacher in America. He took a sip from a water bottle on his desk that $firstname was ninety percent certain he'd filled with vodka. "Good morning," Mr. Sprinkle said, his usual monotone slightly slurred. "Today you will be taking a pop quiz on the material we covered over the past week. Please produce your chosen writing utensal. We will begin momentarily." Mr. Sprinkle passed out a stack of papers to the people seated in front of each row. $firstname took her paper from the person in front of her and passed the stack back. She leaned back and scanned the paragraph at the top of the page. 'This quiz will cover the first few episodes of Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. The answers will be obvious to any who have paid even the most cursory attention to the material. Do not disapoint me.' $firstname wrote her name at the top and picked up her pencil to begin the quiz. [[Question 1]]

Initially, who does Kamina say Simon should believe in? <<set $score=0>> [[A: Himself|Wrong 1]] [[B: Kamina|Right 1]] [[C: Boota|Wrong 1]] [[D: His Spiral Spirit Guardian|Wrong 1]]

What will pierce the heavens? [[A: Simon's Wings|Wrong 2]] [[B: Simon's Laser|Wrong 2]] [[C: Simon's Drill|Right 2]] [[D: Simon's Mecha Warrior|Wrong 2]]

What will pierce the heavens? <<set $score = $score+1>> [[A: Simon's Wings|Wrong 2]] [[B: Simon's Laser|Wrong 2]] [[C: Simon's Drill|Right 2]] [[D: Simon's Mecha Warrior|Wrong 2]]

Complete this sentance: "Who_____________" [[A: The fuck do you think I am?!|Right 3]] [[B: The hell is Lenny Kravitz?!|Wrong 3]] [[C: Ate all the butter?!|Wrong 3]] [[D: Pierced the heavens?!|Wrong 3]]

Complete this sentance: "Who_____________" <<set $score = $score+1>> [[A: The fuck do you think I am?!|Right 3]] [[B: The hell is Lenny Kravitz?!|Wrong 3]] [[C: Ate all the butter?!|Wrong 3]] [[D: Pierced the heavens?!|Wrong 3]]

$firstname put her final mark on the final question on the final page. She felt pretty good about how the whole thing turned out, considering she hadn't actually done the required viewing. Something about anime just seemed so... homosexual, and since homosexuality was a sin, then so was anime. $firstname trusted God to guide her hand when it came to random guesses like this. He hadn't ever steered her wrong before. Mr. Sprinkle collected her paper. He ran his eyes down the answers on her first page, grunted in a noncomittal sort of way, then shuffled off to pick up the next student's paper. When he got back to his desk, Mr. Sprinkle took a long swig from his half empty water bottle. "Expect your results tomorrow. Dismissed," he said. <<set $score = $score+1>> $firstname gathered her things and left. [[To the window! To the hall!]]

$firstname put her final mark on the final question on the final page. She felt pretty good about how the whole thing turned out, considering she hadn't actually done the required viewing. Something about anime just seemed so... homosexual, and since homosexuality was a sin, then so was anime. $firstname trusted God to guide her hand when it came to random guesses like this. He hadn't ever steered her wrong before. Mr. Sprinkle collected her paper. He ran his eyes down the answers on her first page, grunted in a noncomittal sort of way, then shuffled off to pick up the next student's paper. When he got back to his desk, Mr. Sprinkle took a long swig from his half empty water bottle. "Expect your results tomorrow. Dismissed," he said. $firstname gathered her things and left. [[To the window! To the hall!]]

The ambient hum of a high school hallway is a sound unique unto itself. There's the periodic slamming locker, to be sure, but the low hum of conversation is what truly defines it. It's not the kind of conversation that you hear anywhere else in the world. It's a microcosm. A self containted society with its own set of rules and values that differ entirely from those outside its walls. The students speak in hushed whispers, dispatching truth and lies in equal measure. "Did you see what she was wearing?" "Gerald is such a jerk." "All across the land parents just don't understand." Despite this unique phenomenon, though, $firstname could hardly appreciate it. Her attention was fixed solidly on the soul thrumming roar of her libido. It occupied every scrap of her rapidly dwindling attention, and even when she managed to wrench her focus away, it was always there, hungry and screaming for more. $firstname slammed her locker shut, adding to the surrounding din, only to find Chad Chaddington leaning casually on the other side. A wolfish grin spread across his face. "Oh hello," he said. "My name's Chad Chaddington and I'm kind of a big deal. Maybe you've heard of me?" There was no one $firstname wanted to see less at that exact moment than Chad Chaddington. A sudden surge of arousal flooded her thoughts, and she found herself filled with a strong, pulsing need. She wanted to slam Chad against the lockers, to feel his lips hot upon her neck. "Well hello there Chad Chaddington," $firstname heard herself say. "Just how big of a deal are you?" Something else seemed to be in control of her, to speak in her place. $firstname licked suddenly dry lips as her eyes shifted to Chad's bulge. Chad Chaddington smiled and took her by the hand. "Why don't I show you?" $firstname let him lead her through a crowd of grinning onlookers. Catcalls and whistles followed them, but she paid them little mind. She had eyes only for Chad. Everything seemed a dark blur that existed just outside her sight. When she tried to focus on anything outside of him, she'd find her eyes drawn back, torn away only to stare in rapt wonder at his muscles moving beneath the thin, cotton fabric of his shirt. They came to the men's room. Chad guided her inside with a hand upon her butt. [[Oh Chad Chaddington!*]]

The men's room had always been a mystical place where $firstname imagined boys came to blow dry their testicles and talk about their feelings. This week had proven that naive. It was filthy. All men's rooms were filthy. There wasn't a hair dryer in sight, and lining the walls were these strange porceline constructs. They looked like toilets, except not, and the only thing separating them was a half length plastic barrier. $firstname theorized that was where a man went to wash his beard, avoiding the sink so as to avoid clogs. Chad shoved $firstname into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. She sank to her knees and opened her mouth. A dollop of drool made its way down her chin, dropping to the floor with a plop. $firstname knew what he wanted, what all guys seemed to want, and so she waited with eyes closed, knowing that soon she would feel his cock upon her tongue-- that she would taste again that delicious rush of flavor that came when her cheeks filled with a man's seed. But it never came. $firstname opened her eyes. "You're a little too eager for this," Chad said. He frowned at her with a disgusted look darkening his brow. "There needs to be some kind of resistance, but you... you're just a slut. It's kind of a turn off to be honest." Chad turned to the bathroom door and fiddled with the lock. [[Let Chad go]]----------------------------- $firstname's stomach growled. She was so hungry. Her tongue needed the taste of a man's cum. Out of the corner of her eye, $firstname caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and gasped. The girl that stared back wasn't one she recognized. The girl-- no, the slut-- wore a short skirt, heavy makeup, and a bra that struggled to contain overflowing tits. $firstname saw what she had become, what her desires had forged in her. Tears welled in her eyes. [[Start crying]]

"Oh Lord, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," $firstname sobbed. She crawled forward and wrapped her arms around Chad's leg. Shame colored her cheeks red. "I'm so horny all the time. I don't know what's wrong with me. Why am I acting like this?" She burst into a fresh set of tears. Chad's expression softened. He knelt and ran his hand gently through her hair. "Because you're a slut," he whispered. "And sluts need to be punished." Chad tightened his grip and clenched a fist full of her hair. With a jerk, he yanked her to her feet and shoved her into a stall to pin her against a toilet. He flipped her skirt up and yanked her panties down. His rough hand sent tingles up her spine. Lord help her, but she wanted it. $firstname liked the way he shoved her, how strong he was. It was like she was nothing more than a token weight to him, a burden to lift and fling about. "Please, stop!" $firstname wailed. "Let me go, please! I don't deserve this." "Apologize! Apologize for being a slut!" Chad said. "I'm not a slut! I've just made a few mistakes." A loud crack echoed through the small bathroom. $firstname yelped in pain. Another loud crack, and then another, and each time $firstname met his slaps with a sharp whine. "Apologize!" Chad said. $firstname's grip tightened on the toilet seat. His slaps sent red spiderwebs of pain criss crossing her behind. Her throat felt raw. Tears stung her eyes and slid down her cheeks, staining them in their own dirt. "I'm not a slut!" "Liar!" Chad roared. "Only a slut would follow me to this bathroom. Only a slut would fall to her knees and beg for cock. You're a slut!" He spanked her again, and $firstname shrieked. She tried to rise, but Chad's stiff arm, like granite, pinned her in place. "Admit what you are!" $firstname butt felt red. It twinged at the slightest brush of Chad's hand, but the pain felt purifying. "I'm not a slut," she said, quietly now. The words sounded hollow even to her ears. "I've just made a few mistakes. I can change. I can still go back!" Her purity ring caught the florescent lights overhead. It seemed to judge her. $firstname closed her fist so as to keep it from sight. Chad leaned close. $firstname could feel his hot breath behind her ear. It sent a tingle up her spine. "But you don't want to go back," he whispered. "You like what you've become." $firstname sobbed harder. "No, that's not true!" "Another lie!" Chad rained slaps upon her ass. $firstname couldn't separate one blow from another. They flowed into each other, merging and growing in intensity until they became a single sensation-- a pulse and pound that hammered at her willpower. A warm feeling grew within $firstname's cunt. Her mind clouded as her grip on the porceline seat tightened. "I'm-I'm," she said between gasps of air. The rush of blood pulsed in her ears. "I'm a slut! I love cock! I'm sorry for being such a whore!" She collapsed onto the toilet seat and slid to the piss-stained floor. $firstname's fingers drifted between her legs. "I'm a slut. I'm a slut. I'm a slut," she repeated over and over again, whispering the words while she rubbed her purity ring against her clit. Chad spit on her and left the bathroom. The shame of his saliva dripping down her cheek only made her fingers move faster. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Put your clothes back on]]

Chad finished with the lock and looked down at her. "Get a hold of yourself, slut." He spat on $firstname and stormed out the door. The saliva dripped down $firstname's face and into the valley of her breasts. She struggled to keep from breaking down and masturbating right there on the bathroom floor. What had happened to her? There was a point not too long ago when sucking a man's cock had filled her with disgust. Now, though, she looked forward to it, anticipated it, needed it. $firstname lived in a near constant state of hunger, salivating over the mere thought of a man's cum. Chad's spit dripped lower, working deeper between her breasts. $firstname subconsciously tracked its passage as thoughts of his disgust, of her shame, aroused in her unholy desires. She was a cum hungry wreck. A slut with little more thought in her beyond her next fix. But no more! Jesus taught redemption, and though $firstname's fall had been significant, there was no reason she couldn't right her descent. She stood from the floor and wiped the tears from her eyes. But even as her resolve stiffened, her libido began a fresh assault upon her willpower. Another flood of arousal suffused her, but she tamped it down with no small amount of effort. //I'm going to pray tonight. I'm going to pray so cracker-snapping hard,// $firstname thought. She fixed her hair in the mirror and shifted her top to better display her tits. The sudden infusion of confidence lent surety to her steps as she strutted out of the bathroom to face the rest of the day. <<if $bimbo == 4>> [[Home Fail 4]] <<else>> [[Home Success 4]] <</if>>

Crawling to her feet, $firstname tamped down the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her legs felt like Jello as she stumbled uncertainly across the bathroom to lean against the counter. She ran the water. Shame stared back at her in the mirror. Chad's spit dripped from her chin, her hair was a mess, and every inch of her reeked of sex. "Oh God, what's happening to me?" $firstname said. She rubbed at bright, red eyes and did her best to wash the smell of pussy from her ring. Her hands shook. "I shouldn't still be this horny..." And she was. Despite her earlier cum, $firstname still wanted something inside her. She yearned for it, needed it, and she wasn't certain that if Chad, or really anybody, walked through the men's room door right now that she could resist dragging him to a stall and impaling herself on his cock. The door creaked. A tall, dark haired boy stepped inside. He looked at with eyes widening in surprise. "Sorry-- I, uh, thought this was the men's room. My mistake." His eyes flicked to the men's room sign on the door and then back to her. "I'll just wait until you're done then." "Wait!" $firstname said. She looked at the bulge in his jeans and licked her lips. A warmth, a yearning, grew within her. "I'm uh-- I'm done now." She swallowed hard and pushed her way past the boy and into the hall. The urge to take him into a stall still tugged at her. She broke into a run, making for the corner and out of sight. Maybe if she couldn't see him the desire would finally stop. A hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her around. She turned to stare at a mean looking girl. Easily seven feet tall, blonde, and built like a Soviet tank, she glared at $firstname with raw hatred. A pink bow rested in the midst of her golden curls, and her dress, pink of course, was like a floral patterned shower curtain. Despite the dress' loose cut, it clung tight to her massive pectoral muscles and toned arms like it was about to burst. "You make Olga's boyfriend cheat," the girl rumbled in a voice like tumbling granite. "Chad Chaddington hot. Chad Chaddington Olga's. You no take what belong to Olga." $firstname gaped at the patch of stubble that darkened Olga's upper lip. "Uhh," was all $firstname could think to say. Olga cracked her knuckles, filling the halls with the popping of her shifting joints. "You no have something to say? Slutty girl say sorry to Olga. Slutty girl not touch Chad Chaddington again." $firstname's stomach tied itself in a knot. [[Apologize to Olga]] [[Say you're sorry]]

"Olga, I-I apologize," $firstname stammered. "I had no idea that you two were-- that he was-- really? How would that even work?" "Apologize?" Olga said, scratching at the stubble on her chin. "Why no say sorry? Why slutty girl use big words and confuse Olga?!" "No, Olga, apologize means--" "You think Olga stupid?! OLGA SMASH!" And with that the conversation was over. Olga clasped her hands together and raised them over her head, bringing them down with a grunt of tremendous effort. The hall shook at the deep, baritone thunder in her voice. "Olga smash slutty girl good!" $firstname ducked to the side as Olga's cinderblock sized fists whizzed by her head. She felt a strong gust of wind pick up and push her hair across her face, temporarily blinding her. Another of Olga's blows came fast, and this one too missed, but even as $firstname reeled from the shockwave, Olga was preparing for another assault. "Olga, please!" $firstname screamed frantically. Even a glancing blow from that monster might kill her. "Just let me explain." "Time for talking passed. Now time for Olga smashing." Olga hyperextended her arms and began to turn. "Olga supersonic hyper twisty smash!" She spun faster and faster and began walking towards $firstname. $firstname tried to backup, but soon ran out of room as she pressed against the wall of lockers. Olga drew closer, her fists making an odd wirring sound like the blades of a helicopter. Then, $firstname stumbled against a backpack someone had left laying on the floor. She picked it up, spun it like a sling, and let it loose at Olga. It struck the giant square on her big, pink bow. Olga stopped spinning and began to cry. "W-why slutty girl hurt Olga?" the girl sobbed. Fat tears dripped down her cheek. "That Olga's best bow." "$firstname $lastname!" a toneless voice shouted. Mr. Sprinkle rounded the corner and gathered $firstname by her arm, yanking her with such force she feared he might tear it from its socket. "Bullying poor little Olga. I thought better of you. Detenion, Miss $lastname." <> <<if $detention == 0>> [[Detention|Detention 1]] <<elseif $detention == 1>> [[Detention|Detention 2]] <<elseif $detention == 2>> [[Detention|Detention 3]] <<elseif $detention == 3>> [[Detention|Detention 4]] <<elseif $detention == 4>> [[Detention|Detention 5]] <</if>> <>

"Olga, I am so, so sorry," $firstname said. "I had no idea you two were an item. But you don't need to worry. We didn't have sex." Olga teetered on her heels, slowly falling backwards like a dying sequoia. The Earth shook with the force of her landing. Big, fat tears dripped down her face. "That ok. It not first time Chad Chaddington cheat on Olga," she sniffed. She pulled out a checkered bed sheet and using it as a handkerchief. "Chad Chadington bad boyfriend. Why do boys make Olga cry?" Something about Olga crying hit $firstname right in the feels. She knelt next to the giant girl and rubbed her shoulders. It was like massaging a boulder. "I don't know, Olga. Boys can be so heartless sometimes." "Is it because Olga not hot? Olga hot, right?" Her meaty fist shot out and snagged a passing boy. She dragged him close to her face, staring intently at the poor kid's eyes. "Tell Olga she's hot!" "You-you're hot," the kid stammered. Olga let him go, and the boy broke into a sprint and ran around the corner. "See? Olga hot. That not it." She put on a thoughtful expression. "Olga know Chad Chaddington like Olga." From her pink purse, Olga pulled out her cell phone-- which was also pink-- and flicked through her pictures. They were of Chad, hundreds of them, and in each one he looked happy. $firstname had never seen a man look so happy. He clung to Olga, eyes full of adoration, and on his lips was a faint, soft smile. There was none of the usual incistance $firstname had come to expect from him. There was only contentment. "Olga know he happy," Olga said. "Olga know he love Olga. Why Chad act this way?" "That is a puzzler, Olga," $firstname said. "Maybe he's looking for something. A person without God can feel lost." "God? What God? Slutty girl tell Olga about God." "God is-- God is..." Wow, here was a girl that knew nothing about God. Where to begin? "God is everything. God is the sun, the moon, and the stars." "Oh! Like Chad!" Olga said. "Uh, kind of? We exist by His divine will, and it is only though His everlasting love that we can find fullfillment." And so $firstname told Olga about God. She told the girl about the ressurection, how He had sent His only son to die for our sins, and how Jesus' sacrafice ensured a heavenly place for all His followers. When $firstname had finished, Olga was nodding. "So Chad God," she said. "No, Chad is--" "What happen if person not believe in God?" "Well, then they're a heretic," $firstname said. "And heresy has no place in God's domain. We must use our individual talents to guide those poor, misguided souls back into the light." "Olga strong. Olga very strong. Can Olga use force to convert heretics?" $firstname smiled. "Now you're getting it." Olga stood up, grinning from ear to ear. She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. "Olga understand! Olga make people believe in Chad! Then Chad not cheat on Olga. Thank you, slutty girl." She waved and started down the hallway. "Wait! It's-- eh, close enough." $firstname dropped her arms to her side and watched Olga go. "At least she's not crying anymore." <<if $bimbo == 4>> [[Home Fail 4]] <<else>> [[Home Success 4]] <</if>>

$firstname couldn't remember the walk to Mr. Pile's door. All she could think about was the day before when he had greeted her shirtless with abs like chiseled marble and a cock cut from diamonds. She felt thirsty. Her hands shook as she knocked. //I'm not doing anything sexual in there. Nothing at all,// $firstname thought, scratching absentmindedly at her arm. She licked her lips. Had they grown bigger? They were certainly more sensitive. Sweat glistened on Mr. Pile's chest and brow when he answered. His muscles bulged. An abandoned set of dumbells proved he'd just been lifting. $firstname swooned as the smell of iron and testosterone wafted off them, sending a rush of blood from her head to her pussy. Strength drained from her legs. "You are looking fine today," Mr. Pile muttered as $firstname stumbled inside his office. He reached out and helped himself to a handful of her ass. $firstname melted at his touch. //Groping is fine,// she thought. It wasn't like it was sexual. Just a teacher enjoying his student body. She broke reluctantly from his grip and went to the middle of the room, proud she didn't drop immediatly to her knees. $firstname's legs trembled. "You know the drill," Mr. Pile said. He pointed at the bulge pressing against his nylon shorts. $firstname locked her knees to stop them from buckling. She closed her eyes at the effort of keeping herself upright. "No," she whispered. <<set $detention = 4>> "Oh?" Mr. Pile said. He raised an eyebrow. Then, he crossed the room slowly and wrapped $firstname in his embrace. His hands were like rocks against her back, and his bulge, so large and hot, pressed against the inside of her thigh. Mr. Pile closed his eyes and lowered his lips to hers. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Kissing is fine.]]

$firstname's hand hovered an inch above the door knob. Her father wasn't home-- yet-- but if he came home and saw her now... She looked down at her outfit. There was no explaining this one. Somehow $firstname had turned into the kind of girl that enjoyed showing skin. Lots of skin. But could she be blamed? $firstname growing body practically begged to be put on display. And, since God had given it to her a beautiful body, it would be a sin to cover up His work. A sin to defy the father, or a sin to deny the Lord. What was a girl to do? //Put on a jacket, at least,// a nagging voice said. That was her old self. The self that denied her recent pleasures. The self that hadn't been blessed by the Lord and given a carte blanche to explore. She tamped the voice down, squashing it brutally under the weight of her raging libido. $firstname grasped the handle and turned, sighing contently. Every step, no matter how light or careful, made her blouse rub against her nipples. They were always hard these days, begging to be touched, to be squeezed. $firstname clung to her virginity by her fingernails. She collapsed into the couch and rubbed her tits. They were so big, and so fat, and $firstname could practically feel her blood pulse through them, growing slightly with every beat of her heart. She propped her legs on the coffee table. They parted of their own accord as she slipped a finger into her pussy and moaned. The door slammed open as $firstname's father stumbled through it. "Shelby, is that you?" he slurred. His eyes roved across $firstname and he swayed like a man on a ship. He teetered over to the couch and collapsed across her. "You're more beautiful than I remember." "Daddy, it's me!" she squeeked from beneath him. She felt a bulge press against her thigh. Did her father have an erection? "$firstname is becoming a slut," her father slurred. "She's wearing short skirts and sneaking out at night. She thinks I don't notice, but I do. Lord help me I do." "Daddy I--" "Do you remember when you used to dress like that? You were such a harlot back then..." Her father lifted her shirt and planted his mouth around one of her nipples. $firstname moaned. Why did she have to be so sensitive? "Do you remember the first time we met?" he said, sadly pulling her tit out of his mouth. "We were at an after party for one of the football games. You got really drunk and dragged one of the players upstairs. He must not have satisfied, because after him you brought up another, and then another." "Before long a line formed at the door," he continued. "They covered you in cum. You blew bubbles with your mouth!" her father said. He laughed at that, as if the memory of his wife covered in other men's seed was funny. Her father wiped a tear from his eye. "Then you blew me and I left my number with some flowers next to your head. Christ, you were such a whore." $firstname's mother had been the school bicycle? Lord, how had she changed? The mother $firstname remembered was dowdy with a strange obsession with beige. "Daddy, please," $firstname whined. His mouth on her tits were making her uncomfortably warm. "I don't want to--" $firstname father slipped his hand beneath her skirt, plunging into $firstname's sopping pussy. "Like mother like daughter. She's probably parading around the school in her little slut suit, spreading her legs for any boy with a half baked compliment. Lord help me I want her. I want you again." He moved his fingers faster, and $firstname felt herself build towards something. The feeling grew within her, climbing towards an apex. She opened her mouth in a silent scream as a rushing orgasm tore through her. $firstname's vision swam, her legs quivered, and she clung to her father, thrusting against his hand for all she was worth. //Maybe I am becoming a slut,// $firstname thought as her father collapsed and snored on top of her. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Night 4]]

$firstname met his lips halfway. She closed her eyes and savored the taste of his mouth, of the feel of his calloused hands against her skin. She shifted to accomadate his touch as Mr. Pile explored, growing more insistant. $firstname pressed against him, molding her body to his. She moaned from deep within her throat. They broke apart. $firstname tried to focus on him, but to her eyes Mr. Pile kept shifting about. The entire room seemed to swirl around her. She clung to his muscles, struggling to keep herself upright. Spots of color reddened her cheeks. Why did he keep the room so hot? Mr. Pile flipped her around and cupped her breasts. He squeezed her nipples, and $firstname let loose a yelp of pleasure. His cock pressed firm against her ass. $firstname's mouth began to water. She reached back and ran her hand along his taut stomach. "Maybe this is a little sexual," she panted. $firstname cupped the bulge growing in Mr. Pile shorts. //It's so big...// The gym teacher growled and shoved her face down against the hard wooden top of his desk. With a wide sweep of his arm, he sent the contents of his desk crashing to floor. His left arm pinned her in place, while his right fiddled with his shorts. Something firm and hard pressed against $firstname's slit. "I want you now," he said. A drop of lubricant made its way down the inside of $firstname's thigh. She felt herself open at the pressure of his cock. "Stop," she mumbled weakly. The last vestiges of her willpower sputtered and died. "Put it in my ass. I'm still a virgin." "You want it in your ass?" he said. He shifted himself upwards to press against her butt. "Fine! Take it then!" $firstname's hole swallowed him, and then she let loose a moan. She felt full, she felt satisfied, and when he moved it sent a tingle from her head to the tips of her toes. //Ok, this one counts. This is definitely slutty,// she thought. Despite that realization, she pressed against him, moving her hips in time with his thrusts. She bit her lip at the pain and felt her mouth scream, "More! Harder!" The words scraped her throat like sand paper. Mr. Pile groaned and thrust faster. He grabbed a handful of $firstname's hair and yanked, pulling her head backwards. His grip on her thighs tightened, and he panted with effort. Then he roared, thrusting into her a final time. A hot flood of fluid filled $firstname's insides and spilled down her leg. Cum poured from her fresh fucked hole as Mr. Pile withdrew, the cum dropping onto the tile with a plop. He collapsed into his desk chair. Sweat streamed off his brow and chest like a river. He wiped some of it away. "Hot damn, girl. How someone can fuck like that and still be a virgin is beyond me." $firstname couldn't hear him. She stared at the drops of cum dotting the tile floor. She liked the way the white fluid caught the light, dancing with it, and the longer she stared the faster it seemed to dance. She dropped to her knees and inhaled its heavenly scent. She closed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, sliding it along the smooth tile. Its taste sent chills down her spine. $firstname wanted more. She slipped her fingers between her thighs and gathered great dollops of cum. Her fingers glistened in the overhead lights. She stuffed them in her mouth, swallowing great gulps of seed, and then with a scream she orgasmed, twitching in a sudden puddle of her own juices. Frantically, like a woman possessed, she licked the ground, searching for any specks of cum she might've missed. A bell rang from somewhere far away. It dragged $firstname back to her body. She blinked as the last vestiges of her orgasm faded away. Mr. Pile watched her with an amused smile on his lips. "You back with me? Clean yourself up. I want to go home." He threw her a towel and picked up the mess their coitus had made. The towel smelled like him. //Why is it so hard to say 'No'?// $firstname thought. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[After School]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Cheer Tryouts.]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Into the mall!]] <<elseif $day == 4>> <<if $bimbo == 4>> [[Home Fail 4]] <<else>> [[Home Success 4]] <</if>> <<elseif $day == 5>> <<if $bimbo == 5>> [[Home 5-- Fall]] <<else>> [[Home 5 Success]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

$firstname put her hand to his chest to stop him. Mr. Pile paused, his lips inches from hers. He sighed as he drew back. "That's the most resolve I've seen from you all week. Very well. Your body, your choice." He turned her around and shoved her towards a chair in the corner. She collapsed into it. It was an uncomfortable chair. Made of molded plastic, someone had left it standing in either the sun or somewhere very, very hot; the heat had warped the molding until it hardly resembled the shape it'd once been. Small bumps and ridges had grown upon its frame, and they poked $firstname in a frighteningly unpleasant way. She kept shifting, trying and failing to find a tolerable position. Mr. Pile went to his desk chair and unzipped his pants. "I hope you don't mind. That skirt of yours created a bit of a problem I need to address." He reached inside and pulled out his erection. Slowly, he rubbed his hand along its length. "Of course, if this bothers you I can stop." $firstname focused on Mr. Pile's shaft like it was the sole light at the end of a dark tunnel. She opened and closed her mouth, finding that her lips had suddenly become very dry. "No," she heard herself say. "No, go right ahead." The gym teacher grinned. "Good. That's very good." He increased his tempo; his fist flying along its length in a blur. A frown furrowed his brow. "This would go a lot faster if you'd part those pretty legs of yours." Pounding sounded in $firstname's ears. Slowly, as if she were in a trance, she opened her legs, feeling a rush of lubricant and blood flow to her sex. She wanted it. She was hungry for it. Her hand pulled at her shirt's neckline, freeing a tit. She took a nipple between her fingers and squeezed. A moan ripped from her throat as her other hand dove between her legs. Wet schlicks competed for volume with Mr. Pile's furious grunts. He stood up and crossed the room, directing himself at $firstname. She leaned back and closed her eyes, her hand still rubbing furiously between her legs. With a groan, Mr. Pile came as a hot spray of fluid landed on $firstname's breasts and face. His cum acted as her trigger. She convulsed around her hand, feeling her body tense and loosen and then tense again as a flood of pleasure drove all thoughts of restraint from her mind. Soundless screams tore from $firstname's throat, and she reached out and clung to Mr. Pile's muscular leg so as to stop herself from falling out of her chair. It seemed to go on forever. Time lost all meaning in that room, and even when the feeling seemed to subside, it was only the precursor to a stronger, more intense aftershock. Eventually, though, all must come to an end, and when $firstname opened her eyes it was to Mr. Pile standing over her, his shaft shrunken to a portion of its previous size. He threw a towel at her face. "Clean yourself up," he said. "I'm done with you."

Oh, her room. Increasingly, $firstname was coming to appreciate the relative privacy and quiet she found there. It was one of the last, true bastions she had left, and as her body placed increasingly difficult temptations upon her soul, her room acted as a kind of bulwark. The urges and their unceasing demands, though not entirely gone, were at least muted here. $firstname could finally be alone. "Your decorative taste is shit," God said. "I've seen more interesting features in Purgatory." Well, not entirely alone. God was here. God was always with her. "And don't you forget it, fuck slut." And how could she? With such a divine presence as her constant companion, how could $firstname possibly be lonely? True, her father was an abusive drunk deserving nothing more than a short escort to the guillotine, her mother had abandoned her to go do vague things with beige, and the people at school treated her like a cum receptacle, but she had God! His support kept her going. "Your face makes you look stupid," God answered. $firstname shuddered as tears welled in her eyes. No, she was happy. It was a privelage to bear God's abuse. And while $firstname had his attention, she should seek answers to life's many unanswerable questions. Questions like, 'Why are we here?', 'Why is there suffering?', and the quint essential classic, 'Can God make a burrito so hot even God couldn't eat it?'. But which first? <> <<if $pray == 0>> [[Pray|Pray 1]] <<elseif $pray == 1>> [[Pray|Pray 2]] <<elseif $pray == 2>> [[Pray|Pray 3]] <<elseif $pray == 3>> [[Pray|Pray 4]] <</if>> <> <<if $date == 1>> $firstname's phone buzzed. Charlie was such a sweet boy. He had life in his eyes. $firstname could imagine herself leaning against his naked shoulder on a cold, rainy morning, their shared body heat keeping them warm. He didn't want her in the same hyper sexualized way most men wanted her these days. Charlie seemed to want her for her. Maybe if $firstname picked up the phone then she wouldn't feel so lonely. [[Answer Back]] <</if>> But then, $firstname had discovered more interesting ways to feel like less of a piece of shit. There were boys out there that appreciated $firstname and her various talents, and $firstname appreciated them. Oh, how she appreciated them, and their long cocks with balls stuffed with cum. Her stomach growled. Her mouth watered. Christ, she was wet. <> <<if $explore == 0>> [[Explore|Explore 1]] <<elseif $explore == 1>> [[Explore|Explore 2]] <<elseif $explore == 2>> [[Explore|Explore 3]] <<elseif $explore == 3>> [[Explore|Explore 4]] <</if>> <> Beauty, though, was a full time job. $firstname needed to brush her hair, paint her nails, and shave her legs. There were outfits she hadn't tried on yet. Some would take a good many minutes to stuff herself inside of. Her proportions had changed so much recently. And then she had to pick out a shade of blush, and she had so many new cute colors of eye liner-- Oh! And what about her bra and panties? They simply had to match. $firstname had no time for anything else, and besides, there was still the little matter of fixing her wardrobe. <> <<if $model == 0>> [[Model|Model 1]] <<elseif $model == 1>> [[Model|Model 2]] <<elseif $model == 2>> [[Model|Model 3]] <<elseif $model == 3>> [[Model|Model 4]] <</if>> <>

'Hi, Charlie!' $firstname texted. 'I'm just gonna hop in the shower and was off the day XD. See you in an hour?' She shut her phone with a click and tossed it on her bed, leaping into the bathroom and stripping out of her clothes. The hot water felt nice. It streamed off her in steady rivulets, carrying away stress, sweat, and grime. The day's tension melted under that steady deluge, sliding off her to disapear down the drain. This was $firstname's first date. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. What if she messed up? What if she said something stupid? What if, God forbid, Charlie didn't like her? What would her father say if he found out? He couldn't find out. Questions and what-if's fired through her thoughts like a gattling gun. Even as she drained the water from her hair and painted her face in makeup, $firstname mulled over things that could go wrong. //Lord God, keep me from making a complete fool of myself,// she thought. "Unless he handcuffs you to a whipping post then I want nothing to do with this," God said. A car honked twice from her driveway. $firstname's phone buzzed. 'I'm here. Ready for mini-golf?' Charlie typed. [[YOU'RE GOING TO DIE, CLOWN!]]

Sir proved himself to be quite lucrative. Though his forty dollars the night before was been chump change, his idea to broadcast $firstname's 'services' had netted her a considerable boost in revenue and viewers. No, not $firstname: Chastity. Chastity was the slut that'd sucked her way through dozens of stranger's cocks in that hotel room last night. Chastity was the whore that'd guzzled pints of cum and begged for more. Chastity was the one with the too short pink dress and the heels that made men drool. There was a difference. To $firstname, she was here on a job, but to Chastity this was a life style. Chastity would suck and fuck even if nobody paid her. The cash was just a side benefit; a way to quantify her depravity. $firstname blew and popped a pink piece of bubblegum, pulling and wrapping the gum around her finger and sticking it back in her mouth. She licked her lips; they were covered in a thick coating of pink lipstick. They were so fat, and so sensitive, and $firstname's mouth couldn't help but water at the thought of sliding them along Sir's cock. Her pussy slicked up at the thought of his money, his cash... his cum. She knocked hard against the door, eager for what was on the other side. Sir opened it. He stood with his office shirt unbottoned, his clear and defined abs glistening in the sodium parking lot lights. $firstname trembled in eagerness. <<set $allfail = 1>> Wordlessly, Sir opened his door wide. A complicated collection of equipment centered around the hotel mattress complete with lights, half a dozen cameras, and a nerdy looking stoner munching on a Cliff bar. In the corner on a stool sat Sir's laptop. $firstname's chat stream flew by too fast to make sense. There must be over a hundred people watching. What kind of money would that mean? <<set $model = 4>> $firstname felt herself begin to drip. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Sit on the bed]]

Since God first granted $firstname the room in the closet, she'd gotten much better at manifesting her will. True, she still struggled to summon coherant objects, but she found that creation was easier with strong emotion. As long as that emotion never approached fear or anger she could control-- no, that was the wrong word; $firstname could ride the room with ease. Failing control, however, meant her manifestations took on a life of their own. Sometimes that life was horrifying. Cockroaches were a regular motif for her. They seemed to always be on $firstname's mind. Filthy little horros. $firstname took great satisfaction in ensuring that every single one she summoned left life smoldering. "You made a mistake creating these things," she said as she lit the fifth chair of solid cockroaches she'd manifested today on fire. The air filled with their chitinous screams. $firstname summoned a cigarette and lit it off a burning cockroaches. She took a drag and sighed contently. It tasted awful, but damn did it relax her. "I didn't make that chair. Don't go blaming me for your fuck ups," God said. $firstname exhaled a puff of grey smoke. "I mean creating cockroaches in the first place. What the hell do these monsters even do?" "I think they're supposed to be eaten. It's either that or they're decayers. Something something great circle of life," God said. He popped the top on a can of beer and took a long sip. "Honestly I just invented the protons and electrons and let the rest work itself out." $firstname finished her cigarette and tossed the butt on the pyre of burning roaches. "Then why are we here? Are we just some kind of reality television for you?" "Pretty much. Humanity, like a broken condom, is an accident, but even though you weren't planned you've got life all the same." God changed the channel on his television to the Price is Right. Bob Barker's voice boomed loud through the speakers before God turned the volume down. "It's up to you guys what you do with your lives. I'm just here to stir shit up when it all gets boring." He tossed his now empty can into, what sounded like, a very large pile of similarly empty cans. "We have to have some kind of purpose. This can't be it." $firstname tried to summon another chair. This one too was made of cockroaches, but it had the added benefit of completely encasing them in a clear plastic chair shaped shell. $firstname sighed and sat down. //Good enough.// "Have you found the answer to what you want out of life?" he asked. $firstname hadn't thought about that question for some time now. Her struggle to master this room, and her growing realization that God had no idea what he was doing, took most of her attention these days. Still, though, there was that session with Dante. That was a good thing. No, that was a bad thing, and $firstname had to remember that. This was all to better understand the mind of God. That's why she was sinning, right? The cockroaches in the chair began to run out of air. The creatures suffocated one by one, falling into the legs and piling on top of each other like dead leaves. "Your love, my Lord," $firstname said. "To devote one's self to God is the highest calling." The words tasted false on her tongue. "Maybe," God said, as if he didn't care or know the answer. "I'll let you think on it a while longer." <<set $allfail = 1>> With that $firstname felt Him cut off His connection with her. $firstname sat upon her chair of corpses, alone, staring at a bare stone wall. <<set $pray = 4>> [[PHENOMINAL COSMIC POWER! Itty bitty living space.]]

Europe has a long and sordid history, the evidence to which can be seen in even the most cursory of glances: marble statues, cathedrals, houses of such age and grandeur that make even the hardiest of souls tremble to behold. Men of greatness walked the cobbled streets of Rome and Paris, and their footprints can still be seen in the grime and dust that age brings to all things. America doesn't have that. America has mini-golf. Lining the highways of the Greatest Country on Earth are countless theme parks, their sunbleached courses somehow eeking a living in the flat, strip mall wasteland the country has become. Yes, and it's to one of those astro turf wonderlands that Charlie brought $firstname. He pulled his car to a halt in a parking lot empty save for a minivan and a fat woman in a white mumu. A rusty gate stood permanently open. It revealed a worn, red carpet leading to a run down and cheesy castle. A faded sign hung off the castle's doors. It warned vistors that the building was manufacted almost entirely out of asbestos soaked in gasoline. "Come on!" Charlie said, clearly more excited for minigolf than the sport deserved. He took her hand and dragged her into the delapidated castle. $firstname could practically feel herself getting cancer. "They let you choose your ball color!" "Blue," $firstname answered with a grumble. "All balls should be blue." Charlie frowned in discomfort for a minute, but the expression fled as soon as they crossed through the small gate separating the course from the parking lot. The inside of the castle was an arcade with games that looked to have not been updated since the eighties. A series claw machines stood jammed up against the corner, their insides stocked with dusty Captain Caveman plushies, and along the oposite wall lay a long line of pinball machines advertising decades old movies. "Isn't this place great?!" Charlie said. He took $firstname by the hand and led her to a bored looking teenager in an ill fitting shirt. He paid for their game-- $firstname's ball was blue-- and brought her outside. "My grandpa used to take me here when I was young. The drawbridge was always my favorite. I hope they still have it." They did. In fact, it seemed like the minigolf course had all the things Charlie remembered: great windmills with spinning arms, brilliant castles and their white painted walls, and farmhouses with little carved people out front. $firstname and Charlie had the place to themselves. The only other souls on the premises was an awkwardly buff groundkeeper and the fat lady from the parking lot. "Which path do you want to start with first?" Charlie said. Excitement lit his eyes, and, despite herself, $firstname felt herself reflect his joy. This might be fun. Charlie?! The buff groundkeeper called from across a small pond with a pirate ship in its center. He strode around the pond with just a few steps and came at them. "Charlie fucking Henderson, how the hell are you?" The groundskeeper threw his arm around Charlie and dragged him close. Charlie's smile disapeared. "Hello, Mark. How are you?" he said in a dull monotone. He flicked eyes apologetically to $firstname. "Amazing! Just fucking peachy!" Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigaretes. He slid one into his mouth, and with a casual flick of his lighter he lit its end. Taking a deep puff, he exhaled the smoke into Charlie's face. "I haven't seen you since..." Charlie caughed and waved the smoke away. "Yesterday. We saw each other yesterday. You put me in a trash can." His voice hardened into iron. A statement of fact. "Right, I remember that. You were all like, 'No, no, no! Please don't can me!' And then I canned you! Good times. Good times," Mark said. He turned to look at $firstname, and his face broke into a wide grin. "Who's your friend?" Charlie ducked out from beneath Mark and, in a surprising show of confidence, slid his arm around $firstname's waist. "This is $firstname. She's my date." "Date? But that's a woman! I thought you was gay, Charlie." Charlie heaved a sigh. "I'm not gay, Mark. Not wanting to play bloody knuckles doesn't make someone gay." "Pfft, whatever, queer. I'm gonna join you two. Gotta make sure you don't fuck this up." "N--" [[Sure!]] [[Hell no]]

"Sure!" $firstname said. "Charlie hasn't introduced me to any of his friends." $firstname had no idea why she was so enthusiastic for Mark to join them. Maybe it was the way he kept flexing his muscles, or maybe it was the way his muscles kept flexing, or perhaps it was even how amazing muscular he was; whatever the reason though, one thing was certain: there would be no solving this mystery. "Uhm $firstname, I thought it was just going to be the two of us," Charlie said. "Too late, ya pansy! The lady has spoken," Mark said. He threw his arm around $firstname and pulled her into the crook of his shoulder. "So, $firstname, I have a lot of best qualities, but do you know what women say is my best, best quality?" $firstname giggled and nuzzled further into his embrace. "What's that?" "My muscles," he said. Mark flexed his other arm. It bulged and grew veiny. "Did you know I lift?" "You do?!" $firstname said incredulously. No wonder he was so muscular. Arousal flooded through her. "Oh yes, seven days a week." Mark launched into a detailed outline of his workout routine. He told her of the best brands of protein and ginsing suppliments, detailed his favorite flavor of soy grass shake, and then explained the exact point in a leg workout when a man turned into a homosexual. "It's the quads, you see. Quads are the gayest of muscle groups." $firstname nodded along. That explained things. Every gay man she'd seen on T.V. had fabulous quads. "How do you keep yourself straight?" she asked. "Some men can't do it," he answered. "But I had the foresight to swear off leg day. Even now, I've never performed a single leg or thigh exercise." He lifted the hem of his pants to reveal the scrawniest calves $firstname had ever seen. Frankly, they were trembling, struggling to hold up Mark's weight. "Very impressive," she said. From behind them, Charlie snorted. Mark whirled around and grabbed Charlie by the collar and pinned him against a miniature barn. "Something you want to say, queer bait?" "No," Charlie managed to squeek out. "That's what I thought." Mark released him and Charlie fell and gasped into the astro turf. "It'd be shame to tear such a pretty ass up. No homo," he quickly added. Mark tee'd up his shot on the first course. "Who's ready to lose to the greatest minigolfer this side of kindergarten?" [[Who's ready indeed]]

"We'd prefer if you didn't," $firstname said. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and shot Mark a villainous look. Mark ignored her. "You going to let your woman talk out of line like that, Charlie? You're already fucking up. I can see I've got my work cut out for me. Watch and learn, little man." He threw his arm around $firstname and pulled her close. "So, whatever your name is, I have a lot of best qualities, but do you want to know what women say is my best, best quality?" $firstname frowned. "What's that?" "My muscles," he said. Mark flexed his other arm. It bulged and grew veiny. "Did you know I lift?" "You do?!" $firstname said in mock incredulity. "Oh yes, seven days a week." Mark launched into a detailed outline of his workout routine. He told her of the best brands of protein and ginsing suppliments, detailed his favorite flavor of soy grass shake, and then explained the exact point in a leg workout when a man turned into a homosexual. "It's the quads, you see. Quads are the gayest of muscle groups." $firstname nodded along. That explained things. Every gay man she'd seen on T.V. had fabulous quads. "How do you keep yourself straight?" she asked. "Some men can't do it," he answered. "But I had the foresight to swear off leg day. Even now, I've never performed a single leg or thigh exercise." He lifted the hem of his pants to reveal the scrawniest calves $firstname had ever seen. Frankly, they were trembling, struggling to hold up Mark's weight. "Very impressive," she said. From behind them, Charlie snorted. Mark whirled around and grabbed Charlie by the collar and pinned him against a miniature barn. "Something you want to say, queer bait?" "No," Charlie managed to squeek out. "That's what I thought." Mark released him and Charlie fell and gasped into the astro turf. "It'd be shame to tear such a pretty ass up. No homo," he quickly added. Mark tee'd up his shot on the first course. "Who's ready to lose to the greatest minigolfer this side of kindergarten?" [[Who's ready indeed]]

Despite his immense size, Mark handled his putter like his mother's china. He tapped the ball lightly and sent it rolling down astro turf hills and bouncing off cement walls. The ball came to rest inches from the hole. "Wooh!" Mark screamed. He tossed his putter into the air. "How you like that, Charlie boy?!" Charlie wiped some of Mark's spit from his face and tee'd up his ball. He sank into a putter's stance, his eyes locked on the green in front of him. "Miss!" Mark said. "Shittygolfersayswhat?" Charlie exhaled slowly. Tension fled his body as he relaxed his shoulders and focused on the ball. With the gentlest of taps, he sent it rolling down the slope and over the hill until it came to rest firmly within the hole. "W@oh!" Charlie screamed in Mark's face. Spittle flew from his lips as he mimicked Mark's yell to the decibal. "Suck on that hole in one you jock ass piece of shit! Yeah!" Mark socked Charlie in the stomach. Charlie doubled over and collapsed to his knees. A faint whistle of air escaped his lips. "Alright, I deserved that," he said. Mark shot $firstname a smile. "Watch and learn, little miss. I'll show you how a real man plays minigolf." [["Distract" him]] [[Let the windbag talk]]

Now, while Charlie lay gasping on the ground, was the perfect chance for $firstname to throw off Mark's game. It was time to teach that meat head some humility. "Hey Mark!" $firstname said. A coy smile spread across her face. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and, very slowly, lifted it above her tits. Her nipples clung to the cotton for moment, but she gave them a small jerk and they popped free. "Eh," Mark said and returned to his shot without a second glance. The ball sank into the hole with an effortless tap. He handed the putter to her. "Your turn." //Is there something wrong with me?// $firstname thought, pulling her shirt down before Charlie could see. //Am I not hot enough? Am I getting fat?!// She poked her tit and inhaled sharply at the sudden rush of sensation. They'd grown a lot recently. Did that make her fat? Her stomach didn't feel fat. It felt toned, but maybe she was wrong. It was her butt. Her butt was probably big and too ugly, and her tits were just too fat. Men didn't like girls with big tits. Tears welled up in $firstname's eyes. She felt so confused, so terrible that she flubbed her shot. She flubbed the next one too, and the next, and the one after that. Before she knew it she was six over par. Eventually Charlie just picked up her ball and dropped in the hole. "Don't worry about it," he said with a sympathetic smile. "We all have rough starts sometimes." "Yeah!" Mark jumped in. "Plus you're playing with a handicap. Women are supposed to stay in the kitchen, not play golf." "Christ, you're a piece of shit," Charlie said. "Do I need to hit you again?" Charlie's teeth snapped shut with a click. The group walked to the next hole, a great plastic dragon with thin tendrils of smoke rising from its nose. "Besides, you look like the kind of girl who's talents lie elseware," Mark said. He glanced at Charlie who was frowning at him over his putter. "Don't look at me like that you faggot. It's called 'Negging', and you'd know about it if you'd ever slammed the puss. I should know. Ladies throw so much vagina at me that I'm practically drowning in it." An image of Mark sinking into a vast pool of severed pelvices popped into $firstname's mind. He was screaming for help. $firstname found the thought oddly satisfying. "You must sleep with a lot of girls." "Of course I have! I've peed inside loads of girls. I ain't queer afterall." $firstname frowned. That didn't sound right, but she also didn't know enough about sex to disagree. Instead, she settled in to watch Charlie line up his shot. Charlie tapped the ball into the dragon's mouth. A clunking sounded from inside the creature as the ball spat out from its tail. It made a bee line straight for the hole, stopping inches from its edge. "Damn, so close," Charlie muttered. "Mark, with all the insane sex you're having your clitoris must be throbbing." "You're telling me," Mark said. "My clitoris is like raw meat. If I do the sex with another girl then I'm afraid it might fall off." "Sure, sure. That's the danger of sleeping with literally all the imaginary women." "Something you want to say, bitch?!" "I'm saying you're a lying bastard, Mark! And I've had it your shit!" "You don't believe me?!" Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, flipping through a few pictures until he came to one he liked. He turned it around, showing them a picture of a woman that was clearly ripped from an US weekly cover. "There! This is my girlfriend from Canada. Do you have a girlfriend, Charlie? Do ya?!" Charlie knocked the cell phone out of Mark's hand. It bounced across the astro turf to land with splash in a nearby pond. "It was something I was working on until you showed up!" Mark pressed his face against Charlie. With a sudden tap, he shoved Charlie back. "You wanna do something about it? Come on, let's go! Let's go, brah!" He spread his arms wide in bestial attempt to make himself look bigger. "Or are you too much of a pussy?" Air whistled through Charlie's lips as he took a great breath. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cylinder and pointed it at Mark. A fat stream of fluid shot from its top to strike Mark square in the eyes. The peppery smell of the fluid made $firstname's eyes water. Mark screamed and clawed at his face. "What the hell, man?! What is this shit?!" He fell to the astro turf with tears streaming between his fingers. "It's mace, you fuck. I've got another bottle here with your name on it." He threw the bottle at Mark. It bounced off him and rolled to a stop at $firstname's feet, Mark's name written in bold, black sharpy on its side. Mark's screams became choked sobs. "I'm gonna tell my dad and you're gonna be in big trouble because he works at Raley's!" Rubbing furiously at his eyes, Mark ran off in the direction of the bathroom. Charlie turned to $firstname. "Sorry about that. I shouldn't have lost my temper. It was funny though, right?" <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Chase after Mark]] [[Continue with the date|Failure]]

"Do you ever shutup?" $firstname said. "What?" Mark said. "I said, what do you think about Donald Trump?" Mark smiled and lined up his next shot. "I think he's a brilliant and sensual man. He exudes a level of authority that makes me quiver inside. I just know that feeling his throbbing, pulsing desire to make America great again will be a mind blowing experience. His wall, so big and thick, will surely make China give us back our jobs." Mark sank his ball and handed the club to $firstname. "Your turn." It turned out, $firstname wasn't very good at minigolf. She fubbed her first shot, and the one after that, and even the one after that, and by the time she got that stupid blue ball into the hole her score was six over par. Eventually Charlie just picked up her ball and dropped in the hole. "Don't worry about it," he said with a sympathetic smile. "We all have rough starts sometimes." "Yeah!" Mark jumped in. "Plus you're playing with a handicap. Women are supposed to stay in the kitchen, not play golf." "Christ, you're a piece of shit," Charlie said. "Do I need to hit you again?" Charlie's teeth snapped shut with a click. The group walked to the next hole, a great plastic dragon with thin tendrils of smoke rising from its nose. "Besides, you look like the kind of girl who's talents lie elseware," Mark said. He glanced at Charlie who was frowning at him over his putter. "Don't look at me like that you faggot. It's called 'Negging', and you'd know about it if you'd ever slammed the puss. I should know. Ladies throw so much vagina at me that I'm practically drowning in it." An image of Mark sinking into a vast pool of severed pelvices popped into $firstname's mind. He was screaming for help. $firstname found the thought oddly satisfying. "You must sleep with a lot of girls." "Of course I have! I've peed inside loads of girls. I ain't queer afterall." $firstname frowned. That didn't sound right, but she also didn't know enough about sex to disagree. Instead, she settled in to watch Charlie line up his shot. Charlie tapped the ball into the dragon's mouth. A clunking sounded from inside the creature as the ball spat out from its tail. It made a bee line straight for the hole, stopping inches from its edge. "Damn, so close," Charlie muttered. "Mark, with all the insane sex you're having your clitoris must be throbbing." "You're telling me," Mark said. "My clitoris is like raw meat. If I do the sex with another girl then I'm afraid it might fall off." "Sure, sure. That's the danger of sleeping with literally all the imaginary women." "Something you want to say, bitch?!" "I'm saying you're a lying bastard, Mark! And I've had it your shit!" "You don't believe me?!" Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, flipping through a few pictures until he came to one he liked. He turned it around, showing them a picture of a woman that was clearly ripped from an US weekly cover. "There! This is my girlfriend from Canada. Do you have a girlfriend, Charlie? Do ya?!" Charlie knocked the cell phone out of Mark's hand. It bounced across the astro turf to land with splash in a nearby pond. "It was something I was working on until you showed up!" Mark pressed his face against Charlie. With a sudden tap, he shoved Charlie back. "You wanna do something about it? Come on, let's go! Let's go, brah!" He spread his arms wide in bestial attempt to make himself look bigger. "Or are you too much of a pussy?" Air whistled through Charlie's lips as he took a great breath. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cylinder and pointed it at Mark. A fat stream of fluid shot from its top to strike Mark square in the eyes. The peppery smell of the fluid made $firstname's eyes water. Mark screamed and clawed at his face. "What the hell, man?! What is this shit?!" He fell to the astro turf with tears streaming between his fingers. "It's mace, you fuck. I've got another bottle here with your name on it." He threw the bottle at Mark. It bounced off him and rolled to a stop at $firstname's feet, Mark's name written in bold, black sharpy on its side. Mark's screams became choked sobs. "I'm gonna tell my dad and you're gonna be in big trouble because he works at Raley's!" Rubbing furiously at his eyes, Mark ran off in the direction of the bathroom. Charlie turned to $firstname. "Sorry about that. I shouldn't have lost my temper. It was funny though, right?" [[Chase after Mark]] [[Continue with the date|Success]]

"How can you be so insensitive!" $firstname screeched. "What did he ever do to you?" Mark frowned at her. "He hit me. Multiple times. Weren't you watching? I could've sworn you were there." "No matter how much you might want to, it's never ok to mace the retarded." $firstname tossed her club over her shoulder and marched off in the direction she'd seen Mark vanish. "And I don't hang out with bullies." Charlie shrugged and lined up his next shot. "Worth it," he muttered. Mark lay curled in a fetal ball at the far end of the handicap stall. He stuck his thumb into his mouth and sobbed into the linoleum. Fat tears streamed down his cheeks, and his eyes were a bright red. "Hey, Mark. How's it going, big guy?" $firstname said in her most soothing voice. She knelt next to the sobbing jock and massaged his shoulder, jerking away when she found it wet. The strong scent of urine wafted up from a puddle beneath Mark. $firstname frowned in disgust. "What's a strong, handsome man like yourself doing crying in the men's room?" "Charlie is such an-an asshole," Mark said between great gasps of air. "He-he pepper sprayed me even though I-I didn't do nothing! All I wanted to do was play minigolf." "Oh, sweety. He's just jealous of the acres of the pussy you're plowing." Mark sobbed harder. "That-that was just a lie to get you to like me. Really, I've never even kissed a girl." "Oh," $firstname said. "I-I am such a nice guy-- way nicer than the jerks most women date, but no girl wants to get close to me. Why?" "It's a mystery." Suddenly Mark stopped crying. He turned to look at her with redshot and hopeful eyes. "Does that mean you like me?" "Oh jeeze, that is one heck of a question, Mark. What does it even mean to like someone?" $firstname asked. "Can we be liked by others, and if so is it even worth it? They say that forty percent of all marriages end in divorce, but friendship... friendship is eternal." $firstname's eyes roved across the dingy bathroom stall, looking at everything but him. "That must mean that friendship is the highest and greatest level of a relationship. It would be a mistake then to even consider entering into a physical, and let's not forget financial, union with another person. The true expression of love, the real kernal of like someone, must be in refraining from romantic entanglement." "Do I like you? Yeah, I like you. But to really show how much I appreciate you as a person, I must retain our friendship. It is the most important thing we have." Mark wrinkled his noese. Tears welled again in the corners of his eyes. "So that's a no?" "I gotta go," $firstname said. She pointed over her shoulder with what she hoped was a sense of urgency. "It was really great meeting you. I hope the urine dries." She backed out of the stall with a smile a wave. When she was far enough away that she was certain Mark wasn't following her, she broke into a sprint and headed for home. [[Day Five]]

There's a pleasant softness to sleep. It's like a warm cloud or a freshly laundered blanket, and when a man floats within its heavenly embrace, he finds that all the world's cares seem to fall away. Before entering the afterlife, the Greek gods required souls to sip from The Lethe, a vast river that wiped Earthly memories; they did so because mortal experiences serve to way us down-- to pain us-- and true paradise cannot be found except in oblivion. Sleep allows us to touch that heavenly realm, but to wake from a pleasant dream, to suffer again the acrid taste of the world's flaws-- that is truly hell. Just as dark cannot exist without light, and just as hot cannot exist without cold, paradise cannot exist without suffering, and there is no greater misery than that which is found in the first few moments of every day. <<set $day = 5>> $firstname came to understand that intimately as the sun cast its torturous glare through her closed blinds. She felt pain-- no, not the pain of a piercing knife or pulsing would, but the pain of knowing that no pleading would allow her to return to her pillow and experience again the blissful paradise that is sleep. Not for quite some time anyway. <<set $day = 5>> With a groan, $firstname rolled out of bed to stand in front of her mirror, wiping away painful beads of sand from the corner of her eye. <> <<if $transformed == 1>> <<if $slut lte 2>> <<set $bimbo = 1>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 2>> <<if $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 3>> <<if $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 4>> <<if $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> <<if $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

"He is a little trying," $firstname said. "But did you have to mace him? It's not really ok to do that to the retarded." "I don't think he's retarded," Charlie said. "He does masturbate to My Little Pony though, so I could be wrong." "How-how do you know that?" "Long story short? I walked in on him with a pineapple up his ass during summer camp. It took six months before I could stomach fruit salad again." Charlie lined up his next shot. "Shall we get back to it?" They returned to minigolf. $firstname fared no better in the following holes than she did on the first, but the whole experience was more enjoyable without Mark. She came to appreciate Charlie's company. He had a casual air about him; the kind where a person had seen some disturbing shit, but it hadn't colored how he saw the world yet. There was a blase optimism to him that $firstname found infectious, and the more they spoke the more $firstname realized that Charlie was the kind of person that would, probably, do alright in life. There weren't many she could say that about. "I'm more of a taoist, really," Charlie said in his first mistake of the night. They were munching on tacos ordered from some hole in the wall mexican food place. "I mean, if it's all gonna work out then it's gonna work out, and I don't see much of a reason to fret over things." "You're not worried about hell?" $firstname asked. Her taco crumbled apart in her hands, sending its contents to the plate with a clatter. "Why should I be? God can't really be so cruel as to punish a person for not explicitely believing in him, especially if that person lived a virtuous life otherwise. All a man needs to do is keep on doing what he's doing, and care for those around him." "But, Jesus' teachings--" "Were about love and acceptance, and if he's truly an aspect of God, as the Catholics believe, then he can accept my choices." "The Bible proclaims that the only way to salvation is through God." $firstname said. "Living a virtuous life isn't enough. A man can do as many great works as he likes, but if he doesn't do them with God in his heart then he's doing them for himself." "A man can't live for others?" Mark said. "That's not the point. Matthew 7:32-33 'Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven.' Entrance to God's kingdom is dependent upon acceptance of God and His son Jesus Christ, good works not withstanding." Charlie took a bite. "Oh well. These shrimp tacos might be worth eternal damnation." They pulled up before $firstname's house. $firstname twiddled her thumbs nervously. "I had a good time tonight," she said. "Yeah, yeah, me too," Charlie answered. "Hey, listen, I gotta go. My parents and all that, they're gonna be mad if I'm too late." "Oh, so I'll see you tomorrow?" $firstname got out of the car and shut the door, talking through the window. "I don't know. Probably. See ya." He hit the gas and tore around the corner and down the street. $firstname stood for a moment and watched him go. She'd never been on a date before, but that one seemed to have gone well. That Mark guy, though, real douche bag. //Charlie's not too bad of a guy,// she thought, heading up the steps and into the house. [[Day Five]]

"He is a little trying," $firstname said. "But did you have to mace him? It's not really ok to do that to the retarded." "I don't think he's retarded," Charlie said. "He does masturbate to My Little Pony though, so I could be wrong." "How-how do you know that?" "Long story short? I walked in on him with a pineapple up his ass during summer camp. It took six months before I could stomach fruit salad again." Charlie lined up his next shot. "Shall we get back to it?" They returned to minigolf. $firstname fared no better in the following holes than she did on the first, but the whole experience was more enjoyable without Mark. She came to appreciate Charlie's company. He had a casual air about him; the kind where a person had seen some disturbing shit, but it hadn't colored how he saw the world yet. There was a blase optimism to him that $firstname found infectious, and the more they spoke the more $firstname realized that Charlie was the kind of person that would, probably, do alright in life. There weren't many she could say that about. "I'm more of a taoist, really," Charlie said in his first mistake of the night. They were munching on tacos ordered from some hole in the wall mexican food place. "I mean, if it's all gonna work out then it's gonna work out, and I don't see much of a reason to fret over things." "You're not worried about hell?" $firstname asked. Her taco crumbled apart in her hands, sending its contents to the plate with a clatter. "Why should I be? God can't really be so cruel as to punish a person for not explicitely believing in him, especially if that person lived a virtuous life otherwise. All a man needs to do is keep on doing what he's doing, and care for those around him." "But, Jesus' teachings--" "Were about love and acceptance, and if he's truly an aspect of God, as the Catholics believe, then he can accept my choices." "The Bible proclaims that the only way to salvation is through God." $firstname said. "Living a virtuous life isn't enough. A man can do as many great works as he likes, but if he doesn't do them with God in his heart then he's doing them for himself." "A man can't live for others?" Mark said. <<set $allfail = 1>> "That's not the point. Matthew 7:32-33 'Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven.' Entrance to God's kingdom is dependent upon acceptance of God and His son Jesus Christ, good works not withstanding." Charlie took a bite. "Oh well. These shrimp tacos might be worth eternal damnation." Charlie pulled his car to a stop on the street outside $firstname's house. The house's windows were dark, though $firstname did notice the silver flicker of light behind curtains as if her father had left the television on. Wind rattled through the few leaves that still clung to bare branches. The night smelled of winter. "I had a good time tonight," $firstname said. She fiddled her thumbs together on her lap. Her heart pounded in her chest as if she'd just run a mile. "Yeah, me too," Charlie said. His hands gripped the steering wheel as if it were the last piece of flotsam in a storm. He stared straight ahead. "Shame about Mark. Let's not bring him next time." "Heh," Charlie chuckled weakly. $firstname opened the passenger door. "I guess I'll see you later." She felt sad. She really wanted Charlie to do... something with her, though she was dammed if she knew what it was. "Wait!" Charlie said. He reached and snatched $firstname's hand just as she was rising from her seat. With a gentle insistance, he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. The world spun around her. A rush of blood flew to her head, making her vision dance and twirl. She closed her eyes to stop herself from getting dizzy, and then kissed back. Hard. She gripped a handful of his hair pressed and herself against him. A moan tore from deep within her throat, muted and dulled by his lips. Her heart pounded in her ears. This was what she wanted him to do-- what she needed him to do. Charlie's arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled her tighter. A hand trailed along her lower back to cup the upper curve of her butt, causing $firstname to inhale sharple. He pulled back, parting from her lips with a sigh of regret. "Is this ok?" he asked. <<set $charliedate = 1>> [[Yes]] [[Let's take it slow]]

$firstname didn't answer. She kissed Charlie harder, letting his hands slide lower along her backside until they cupped the full curve of her ample bottom. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as his other hand found her tits-- her glorious fun bags. At first she'd been confused as to why God would curse her with their sensitivity, but now she understood. Even the gentlest pass of Charlie's fingers across her nipples sent her reeling in a sudden fit of mind rending pleasure. Charlie wasn't gentle, either. He pawed and pulled at her in the way only a man lost to desire and inexperienced with a woman's body can. He was like a kid playing with his favorite toy, unconcerned over whether it might break. And $firstname loved it. She loved his eagerness, his inexperience, and the raw, unfiltered manner of Charlie's desire sent her thoughts swimming through a happy sea of pink. Suddenly, $firstname blinked. Somehow she'd climbed into Charlie's lap. His cock rose from between her naked thighs. She stroked his shaft, marveling at the way soft skin moved across his firm dick. It radiated a warmth matched only the heat eminating from her drooling pussy. It was beautiful, so beautiful, and $firstname couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to give him everything. The cock shifted seemingly of its own accord, though $firstname knew her rebellious hand that clung to it in a death grip was more responsible for its movement than some act of God. She felt herself open, beckoning his cock into her warm interior. "Come out Virginia don't let me wait," God hummed. "You Catholic girls start much too late." $firstname's eye caught the silver flash of her purity on the hand guiding Charlie's cock inside her. She stopped. "I can't. I promised my Daddy I would save myself for marriage." "But sooner or later it comes down to fate," God continued. Charlie growled in barely contained frustration. He sounded like a leashed animal, and the leash was frayed. "Just the tip. It doesn't count if its just the tip. It's in the bible somewhere." Was it? $firstname's head was too addled by lust to think clearly. She fiddled with her silver purity ring. "Just the tip?" "Just the tip," Charlie promised. $firstname's mouth felt dry. She tried to swallow and failed. Blood rushed to pussy, and she felt another wave of desire crash across her. Slowly she nodded and guided the dick back to her entrance. "Only the good die young," God finished with the sound of a smile in his voice. $firstname's pussy opened and enveloped the head of Charlie's cock. Each centimeter made her gasp sharply. Slow, she had to go slow, but oh how she wanted to feel him fully. The desire beat against her fragile willpower, but she held strong. "I'm not a slut," she muttered, repeating it over and over again in her own mantra of strength. "I'm not a slut." Charlie panted into $firstname's heaving tits. His face shone in a sheen of sweat, and the exertion of holding himself back made his grip tighten almost painfully against $firstname's backside. He withdrew from her slowly. $firstname's legs trembled with the effort of holding herself above his spear. One slip and his dick would plunge fully inside. "I'm not a slut." $firstname's moaned as Charlie pushed inside her again, farther this time. Every centimeter made her tremble in ecstacy. She wanted-- no, needed the whole thing. Her eyes flicked to heaven, searching for strength. $firstname found none. "I'm not a slut," she whispered. The words came out frantic and strained. They sounded hollow to her ears. Another withdraw and entrance, but this time $firstname felt her willpower shatter; she dropped, impaling herself fully upon Charlie's cock. "I'm a slut!" she screamed in an orgasm that echoed against the car walls. She lifted and dropped again. "I'm a slut." $firstname's words tangled into themselves, but the mantra never really stopped-- it only devolved into whorish moans. Her hips thrust themselves fully against Charlie, and her grip tightened, drawing thin lines of red across his back. $firstname knew what she was doing was sin, and she knew God could see everything she did, but for some reason that thought only drove her to fuck Charlie harder. Maybe if she screamed loud enough her father would come out and see her-- see her getting railed in the front seat of a car like some some common whore. So concentrated was $firstname on her own pleasure, that she didn't notice Charlie's grunts growing in volume and frequency. He tore her from his cock. Thick globs of cum sprayed from his dick to land across her tits. $firstname collapsed into the passenger's seat and panted. She gathered his cum and stuffed it in her mouth, savoring its taste. "I'm a slut," she moaned, only half coherant. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Garble Smarble Gurgle]]

With a sigh of regret, $firstname pulled Charlie's hand off her backside. "This is our first date. Let's take it slow." She smiled and caressed his arm. Small though it was, it had a hidden hardness to it that she found attractive. It was much like Charlie in that way. Charlie nodded slowly. "I suppose we should save something for the second date," he said with a smile. "We can still kiss though, right?" $firstname pressed her lips against his with an eagerness that surprised even her. She liked the way his lips tasted, and she liked the way they made her feel, but most she liked the way that Charlie liked her. Making him happy made $firstname happy. She ran her her hand through his soft, chestnut curls. Charlie, to $firstname's chagrin, showed remarkable restraint. He kept his hands above the waist and off her tits, though the sizable bulge pressing against the inside of her thigh proved it was a struggle. Suddenly he growled from deep within his chest and his grip tightened on her back. $firstname pulled back with reluctance. Her pussy seemed to drip. If she kept at this there was no telling what she might go. "I have to go. See you tomorrow?" "Definitely." She smiled, and Charlie smiled back. She liked the way he smiled. The car door slammed behind her as she made the long walk across the lawn to the front door. $firstname looked over her shoulder and was delighted to find him following. Charlie grabbed her hand on the stoop. With a gentle insistance, he pulled her close and kissed her. That set off another round of furious kisses, each of them not wanting to be the one to end it. Finally, though, $firstname pulled away and opened the door. With a lingering look, she disapeared inside. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

$firstname felt like she was floating through a sea of warm honey. She panted and closed her eyes, sweat and cum glistening on her bare chest. Her fingers circled lazily around one nipple. They gathered a dollop of cum and stuffed it in her mouth. Another followed, and then another. "You alright there?" Charlie asked. He poked her breast, but even that slight touch sent a quivering rush of sensation tearing through her. "I'm alright. Very alright," she said with a content sigh. Damn Charlie, and damn her libido. Even that the slight brushing of his finger against her tit made her lust flare. She licked her lips hungrily. "You want to go again?" Charlie laughed and gestured at his now flacid cock. "Maybe in a bit. My little guy needs some time to recover." He rolled down his window. A cool gust of night air rushed through the crack and danced across their sweaty skin. "I guess I'm not a virgin anymore." A sudden flash of fear flooded through $firstname. She sat bolt upright. "You and I-- we-- CRACKERJACKS!" She stared down at her tits, noticing for the first time the hardened cum that glistened on her naked flesh. "We had sex. This is bad. This is very, very bad." "You have a strange definition of bad." "Don't you see?" $firstname wailed. "I promised my Daddy I would remain pure until my wedding night. I broke that promise, and in the eyes of the Lord branded myself a harlot!" She pulled off her silver purity ring and threw it through the open window. It landed on the pavement with a silver note and rolled into an open gutter. $firstname pulled her knees to her chest and breathed heavily in and out. Charlie frowned at his steering wheel. "Harlot is a little harsh. I'm not some random John." How could she have let this happen? How could she have lost her virginity, and on the first date no less! An idea occurred to her. She pointed at Charlie. "You! We have to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Say that we're boyfriend and girlfriend." "We're boyfriend and girlfriend." $firstname breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed into the seat. "At least now I can say I didn't lose my virginity to some random guy in my parent's driveway. I lost it to my boyfriend. That's ok, right?" "Sure?" "Great! See you tomorrow... boyfriend." $firstname got out of the car and stumbled onto the porch and through her door. Charlie sat for a moment in silence in the shadow of the darkened house, wondering if he'd just made some kind of colossal mistake. Eventually, he shrugged and started his car, pulling out of the driveway and down the block. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

$firstname sat on the edge of the mattress and crossed her legs. Even as demure as the position was, $firstname's dress still rode up and rubbed the naked flesh of her ample ass on the cheap motel sheets. She hadn't bothered to wear underwear. "State your name and age for the boys at home," Sir said. He folded his arms next to the center camera and watched her with a predatory smile on his lips. "Chastity, and I'm (local age of consent)," $firstname said, the slight shake in her voice betraying how nervous she felt. This seemed awfully official. "So, Chastity, that's quite a name. How'd your parents decide on it?" "Daddy was always big in the church. He used to say 'the purest thing a woman can be is chaste'. I guess he just wanted the best for me." "And you thank him by strutting around in that?" $firstname giggled and blushed. She uncrossed and crossed her legs. "I've discovered there are better things in life than purity." "No arguments here," Sir said. He rubbed at a bulge growing in his pants. His smile spread wider. "What would your daddy say if he could see you right now?" "He'd call me a whore," $firstname said. Her eye lids fluttered as a mini orgasm ripped through her. She gripped the sheets and struggled to hold herself upright. "Are you?" "Not yet-- I mean, no. I'm still a virgin." That wasn't techinically part of Chastity's character, but $firstname's pussy was too slick for her to care. Sir looked surprised by that admission. "Well, you've come to the wrong place." "I know," $firstname said, her grip on the sheets weakening. Christ, she was wet. "I've been so naughty." Her fingers slipped between her legs as the motel room filled with the wet schlick of her hand. "Stay with me, Chastity." Sir crossed the room and stood before her, unzipping his pants. "How much would your virginity cost me?" $firstname's vision swam. She watched glass eyed as Sir's cock flopped from his jeans. Her hand shook, yearning to grasp his shaft. With an effort of will, she forced herself to keep still. "No, it's not for sale." "I mean it," he said. "Name a number. The biggest number you can think of." The biggest number she could think of? Visions of slutty pink dresses paraded through her thoughts. "Five-- no, six dollars." "Sold." Sir pulled out a fat wad of cash and counted out the money in ones. He threw each bill at $firstname. They twisted and danced in the air before coming to a rest scattered across her lap and the sheets. $firstname stared at the money. //Stop. Don't pick it up. Don't accept his cash,// a distant voice inside her whispered. It was so far away though that $firstname could barely hear it over the rush of blood in her ears. With a trembling hand, she gathered the first bill and stuffed inside her bra. The rough scratching of the money against her nipple sent a tingle down her spine. She gathered another, and another, jamming them in the wasteband of her underwear and bra until she looked like cash pinata. "Now you're a whore," Sir said. $firstname sighed and fell back into the bed, parting her legs. Her hand slipped between her thighs. "Oh Daddy, look at me. I'm a whore," she mewed. "I'm a cheap, slutty whore." Sir positioned himself at her entrance. "Yes, you are," he said. Sir shoved then, entering her fully. $firstname let loose a shriek of mind rending pleasure. The edge of her vision grew black. She wrapped her legs around Sir's thighs and pulled him deeper, clawing at his back with her painted nails; where they went long streaks of red trailed behind. Even as Sir tried to pull back, she locked her legs tighter, trapping him within her as the titanic tremors of her first orgasm ripped across her body. Air fled her lungs, and her screams faded into a silent yell of ecstacy. Eventually the sensation faded as the motel room drew back into focus. $firstname hung slack off Sir, her mouth open and drooling. Sweat seemed to soak into her soul. "That was only the first thrust," Sir whispered in her ear. $firstname could barely comprehend what he said. One thought bubbled to the surface of her mind. "More," she whispered through pink lips. Each time Sir drove into her, $firstname felt long held inhibitions crumble into dust. She clutched to his back, driving her nails and teeth inside him, but the pain only drove Sir to greater heights of passions. It was all $firstname could do to cling to him, her breath coming in short gasps. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me," she whispered with each thrust. Her own private mantra to her new God. Suddenly, with a roar, Sir tore $firstname's grip and threw her to the bed. He stood over her tall and proud, his hand working his thick cock in a furious blur. His breath came in short gasps, and $firstname could hear the joints in his toes pop as he curled them. Then the head of shaft pulsed and spewed a hot spray of white cum across her face and tits. His seed burned into her flesh, branding her as surely as a hot iron. Then he collapsed into a nearby armchair and lit a cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. $firstname grew aware of the dings that sounded from Sir's laptop. They were constant now, ceasing as individual sounds but rather merging together into an unending note. The sound, the echoing roar of her donations sent $firstname to still greater heights of passion. Cum and sweat glistened across her naked flesh. She stuffed what she could gather into her mouth with one hand while her other slid down the gentle curve of her stomach, plunging again between her thighs. "More," she moaned. "Shut that thing down," Sir ordered. The stoner kid slammed the lid of the laptop closed. The note stopped. $firstname could still hear it, though. She could still hear its glorious ring echoing in her ears. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

$firstname's heels clacked like an advertisement on the pavement. Sodium lights lining empty streets guided her down the corner and around the block, drawing her towards the club and its rumbling bass. She could see it in the distance. Its neon lights buzzed defiantly against the night. A small line of people behind a velvet rope stretched before the club's doors, but she ignored them, stepping to the line's front. The bouncer noticed her and broke into a wide grin. His eyes roved across $firstname's body, sending a tingle down her spine. He lifted the rope and slapped her ass as she stepped by. "Come see me after my shift," he whispered. "I want to make you scream." $firstname's heart raced at the lingering sting of his palm against her butt. She remembered him from last night. No, not his name, but the feel of his cock as it sheathed itself within her ass. She remembered how he made her tighten her grip on the porcelain toilet, and she remembered what his cum felt like against her skin. $firstname hooked her finger in the bouncer's belt and dragged him close. His bulge grew and pressed against her thigh. She kissed him hard, moaning as his thick arms circled around the small of her back. "Why not now?" she slurred. A spot of drool dribbled down her chin. The bouncer laughed. "No, not now. Fucking you isn't worth losing my job." He disentangled himself and shoved her towards the door. $firstname stumbled against the building, teetering on heels too tall for balance. Her loins burned, her mouth watered, and her thoughts seemed to move through thick molasses. //One cum. Please God just let me cum...// A strong pair of hands took hold of her. "You look like a slut who likes it rough," the hand's owner said. He trapped her against the side of the building and kneaded her tits. "You want to have some fun?" <<set $allfail = 1>> $firstname molded herself to her agressor. "What kind of fun?" she said with a moan. She couldn't seem to focus on his face. <<set $explore = 4>> "Fuck the whore some place else, Todd!" the bouncer called over his shoulder. He dragged his finger down a clipboard. "The boss is here today, and he doesn't like finding sluts in the bathroom." <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Baby don't hurt me]]

Todd guided $firstname by the ass around the back of the club and into an unlit alley. It smelled awful. Needles, flattened boxes, and the occasional used condom litered the pavement. An industrial sized metal garbage can stood up against the walls. A strange fluid dripped down its side. Todd pushed her against the trashcan. $firstname gripped the can and struggled to keep balanced on her heels. She touched something wet. "Do we have to do this here? Don't you have a hotel we can go to?" she said. Inside, though, she trembled. This was what she deserved. "Shutup," Todd answered. He gripped her hair and shoved her into the can. $firstname's tits pressed against the fetid metal. Garbage water soaked through her top and into her skin. She felt disgusting. She felt terrible. She felt right. $firstname moaned and pressed against Todd's crotch. "What the fuck did I just tell you?!" Todd roared. He slapped her backside. "I'm gonna fuck you senseless." Tears welled in $firstname's eyes. Lubricant dribbled from her cunt. "Don't fuck me I'm a virgin. Please, just put your cock in my ass." Todd growled and fumbled on the ground for a bum's sock. He shoved it into $firstname's mouth, stifling her moans. The sock tasted of old cum and sweat. He flicked her skirt above her waist and massaged her dripping slit. With another growl, he unzipped his pants and pressed his cock against her cunt. $firstname felt herself open at his pressure. Her silver purity ring caught the shine of a nearby streetlight, glimmering wet in garbage water. She looked at it with eyes filled with shame. //This is how I lose my virginity? To a stranger in a filthy alley?// She felt herself open wider. She bit into the filthy sock as lubricant dribbled down her thigh. With a final shove, Todd entered her fully. "Fuck, you're tight!" $firstname threw back her head and screamed, her voice muffled by the gag. The edges of her vision grew black. She pressed hard against Todd's cock, struggling to drive him deeper inside herself. Every inch of him sent waves of sensation crashing through her. She spat the sock into the trash bin. "I'm a slut!" she sobbed. Tears streaked down her cheeks, smearing her mascara in long, black lines. "Why am I such a worththless slut?!" $firstname reveled in her own decadence. The filth, the trash, it all seeped into her soul. Todd slammed his hand over her mouth. "Shutup you stupid whore! Someone is going to--" [[Don't hurt me]]

"You there! Hey!" A voice called as a siren whooped at the end of the alley. The light cast $firstname and Todd in blue and red shades. A cop stepped from his car holding a black mag light. Todd cursed and pulled out of $firstname with a wet slurp. "Stupid fucking whore can't keep her God dammed mouth shut," he mumbled. He zipped up his pants, gave her ass one last parting slap and took off down the alley in a dead sprint. $firstname watched him go in longing. She'd been so close, so cracker-jacking close. "What does a girl have to do to get properly fucked in this town?" When the officer saw she wasn't going to run, he leaned casually against his cruiser. His uniform clung tight to his toned muscles. Slowly, he twirled his mag light. "Come on over here," he said. Lust flared between $firstname's thighs. She shifted her eyes to the policeman and licked her lips. "Certainly, officer," she said in a sultry whisper. Without bothering to adjust her clothes, $firstname strutted out of the alley and onto the street. One nipple hung free from her shirt, and the other lay clearly visible through thin, wet cotton. Unconsciously, she pulled her silver purity ring from her finger and tossed into a pile of moldy garbage. She wouldn't need it any more. The officer grabbed her arm and shoved her face down into the cruiser's hood. Metal clinked on metal as he put her in cuffs that dug deep into her wrists. "What's a good girl like you doing in this part of town?" he asked. "Being bad, officer," $firstname said. She pressed back against his bulge, smiling as it grew firm and large. "I can see that. Public indecency is a crime, Miss. I'm going to have to take you in." "Shutup and fuck me," $firstname said. She had no patience left for foreplay. She needed to cum. Now. The officer unzipped his pants. "I suppose I could let you off... with a little persua--" "Just fuck me already!" The officer shoved inside her with a grunt. $firstname whimpered as his cock slid inside. Her fingers scraped against the hood of the squad car. Red and blue lights danced across the rutting pair, glistening in the sweat that poured from their bodies. The officer was bigger than Todd, firmer and strong. $firstname liked him more. //God, two in one day. What does that make me?// "I'll give you one guess," God said. //Oh no, God is watching me. He can see me rut like a beast in heat.// For some reason that spurred her faster. $firstname bounced eagerly against the officer's cock, her meaty ass slamming into his groin with a loud slap. The night air filled with her whorish cries. "Fuck me more!" The policeman grabbed her handcuffs and pulled her upright. He slammed into her, his hips moving in a blur. He grunted, his breath coming in short gasps. With each thrust $firstname felt herself sink deeper and deeper, falling into a depraved abyss. The powerful feeling $firstname needed, that she hungered for, grew within her loins. With a shriek, she began to cum, twitching and drooling into car's hood. With a great roar, the officer painted her insides with hot cum. His seed overflowed and spilled down her thigh, dripping and darkening the concrete in countless drops. He collapsed next to her. His chest heaved and his skin glistened. Somehow $firstname knew he wouldn't be the last to cum inside her. She imagined the hundreds of men, the thousands of faceless cocks she would service. She imagined herself pasted in cum, rubbing the fluid into her skin until she shone. She imagined her name scrawled on bathroom walls in crude sharpy, tales of her whorish repution spreading from mouth to mouth, cock to cock, growing with every person she fucked. The skin above $firstname's butt tingled as two tally marks carved themselves into her flesh. "You're free to go," the officer said. He unlocked her handcuffs and stuffed them away in his belt. $firstname fell and panted into the pavement. She slipped her hand between her thighs, building herself to another orgasm. "Just one more cum," she mewed. From the other end of the alley, the club called to her. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

$firstname had to steady herself three times on her walk to school. Her hands shook, her mouth watered, and she found herself thinking thoughts that would've sent her running for a confession booth a week ago. Now it was all she could do to keep her thighs together whenever a strange man glanced at her. Every part of her felt alive-- it was as if a humming current of electricity suffused every nerve in her body. A slight gust of wind, or a swishing of her skirt, made her want to howl in pleasure. On some level $firstname knew her constant arousal was responsible for the changes. Her horniness cast over her like a pink fog, clouding any real critical thought, and even when she did manage to muster a coherant idea, it was always focused on achieving relief, finding some outlet for her lust. It never worked, though. Even the strongest of her orgasms only managed to dampen her desires for a brief time, and then they would flare again stronger than before. $firstname feared that if things continued as they were then she would become lost, forever stumbling through a haze of perpetual desire. A deeper and more insidious part of her welcomed the lust, though. Every cum brought her to still greater depths of satisfaction, of need, and she had to know just how far this decadent pit went. Maybe it was that piece of her that made $firstname grab Chad Chaddington by the shirt and drag him into a nearby janitor's closet. "My name's $firstname $lastname and I'm kind of a whore," $firstname slurred. "Maybe you've heard of me?" "Uh, my name's Chad Chaddington and I'm--" $firstname grabbed Chad by the crotch. "A big deal. I know." Christ, he was hard. His muscles lay beneath his shirt like carved marble. She couldn't wait to see them. She couldn't wait to touch them. She couldn't wait to feel his rough hands pawing at every inch of her tingling flesh. Her pussy streamed lubricant down the inside of her thigh. Strangely, though, Chad backed off. He pushed her away with a firm palm. "I can't. I have a girlfriend." [["Convince" him]] [[Let him go]]

$firstname rubbed her palm along Chad's growing bulge. She smiled at its firmness and slipped closer to him, her growing tits bulging and pressing up against his chest. "You seemed more than willing yesterday," $firstname said. She licked her lips and smiled wider. "You weren't thinking about your girlfriend when I had your cock down my throat, were you?" Chad swallowed loudly. "I can't cheat on her. I love her." $firstname unzipped Chad's jeans and reached into his pants. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her. Don't you want to plunge into me? Don't you want to make me moan? I'm wet because of you." That was a lie. $firstname would've been wet regardless of whether Chad was there, it seemed her new default, but it was true that she wanted him. Badly. Chad growled in anger as he slipped an arm around $firstname's waist. He lowered his lips to hers. "I hate you," he whispered. He kissed her hard then slammed her against the janitor's closet walls. Cans of paint and tool fell from the shelves and landed with a loud clatter. "I hate you!" He grabbed her dress and yanked, tearing the flimsy fabric from her body. Pinning $firstname with one arm by the neck against the wall, he fiddled with his belt buckle. Chad's cock rose from his pants like the second coming. He pointed it at her drooling cunt. "I hate you so God dammed much!" With a roar, Chad thrust. $firstname threw back her head and screamed. "More! Fuck me more!" Her fingers clawed against the drywall, leaving behind long scratches. Chad's grip made moving difficult, but she thrust back against him, throwing her weight into his cock. She greeted each thrust with a gasp, another desparate cry for more. "You're a slut, $firstname $lastname," Chad growled between clenched teeth. Tears welled in $firstname's eyes. They streamed down her cheeks to catch the overhead light on the tile floor. "I am, aren't I? Why am I such a slut?" She couldn't help it, though. Her lust for cock dominated her every thought. "Filthy. Stupid. Whore," Chad grunted, punctuating each word with another thrust. "I loved her! How could you make me do this?!" With a roar, Chad tore out of her. He groaned as he directed a sudden flood of hot cum to splash across $firstname's lower back. His seed dripped down her butt to land in white droplets on the tile floor. "She was the love of my life," Chad said. He looked on the verge to say more, but his voice caught in a sudden sob. Hiding his face from $firstname, he pulled up his pants and left the room. $firstname, for her part, panted into the cold floor. She gathered the cum from her back and ground on her fingers, stuffing the fluid into her mouth. A small orgasm ripped through her, and she opened her mouth as her eyes fluttered in a silent scream. Sweat beaded off her naked flesh. Slowly, she gathered the tattered remnants of her clothes and covered herself. Desire, seeming undiminished, pulsed within her. <<set $charliecheat = 1>> $firstname wanted more. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Time for class!]]

$firstname released Chad with the utmost reluctance. Horny as she was, $firstname wasn't about to stoop so low as to tear a happy couple apart to sate her own desires. Her body screamed at her, though. It urged her to thrust herself against Chad, to tear his clothes off and satisfy herself on his stiff cock. She brutally repressed the desire. "If you love her, why did you do all those things to me?" $firstname asked. She did so more to distract herself from the blood pounding in her ears. Chad righted a paint can and sat down. He locked eyes with the tile floor. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted to feel like a big deal. Next to her, next to Ulga, a man can feel so very, very small. When I touched you it made me feel big again. That's all I really wanted." "Maybe she's not the girl for you then." Chad jerked his head upright. "No, she is! There's no girl in the world that I love more!" His eyes shone with a zealous energy that made $firstname's heart skip a beat. Oh to be loved with such fury. "She's incredible. I'm just not worthy to love her." "This is the giant with the pink bow and the hands like garbage can lids, right?" "You know her! So you understand why she's so fantastic! You're a girl, right? You understand these things. How can I be worthy of a woman like that?" $firstname scratched the back of her head uncertainly. She might be a woman, but she'd be dammed if she understood that relationship. "Uh, you can only try your best, I guess? It'd probably be a good idea if you stopped sexually harrassing random women." Chad scratched thoughtfully at a bit of stubble. "I never thought of that... But molesting women is the kind of thing a manly man does. Ulga is the kind of woman that needs a manly man." //Ulga's man enough for the both of you,// $firstname thought. She didn't voice it though. Instead she said, "Women like soft guys, too. They like confidence. You don't always have to be the big, fearsome manly man. And besides, molesting girls isn't what makes a man. Respect, caring, that's what makes a man." "Thanks, $firstname! You've helped a lot." Chad rose frome his paint can with a big grin upon his face. "I feel like you've lifted a great weight from my shoulders." He opened the door and left the janitor's closet. $firstname slumped against the far wall. Well, even though it felt good to help someone, she was still tremendously horny. [[Time for class!]]

Today, Mr. Sprinkle had decided upon beige khakis, a white dress shirt, and a tie featuring some girl that was in Tiger and Bunny. How he'd managed to sneak the tie on campus-- past the PTA storm troopers-- was a mystery, and why he'd chosen to wear a near naked anime girl advertising Pepsi an even bigger one. For a brief moment, $firstname suffered some cognitive dissonance when she struggled to jive how anime could be gay but still have near naked women in it. Her dissonance was to be swiftly resolved however, for as soon as Mr. Sprinkle turned to address the class, she noted that whoever had made the tie had given the prepubescent girl a large and veiny cock. "The best part about a dick on a chick is that it gives you another anchor to attach the rope," God said. $firstname buried her head in her arms and began to gently lose her mind. "I am disapointed in your performance, class," Mr. Sprinkle drawled in his dull, monotone manner. "Only a few students managed to correctly answer yesterday's quiz, and those that did I suspect only did so due to random chance. Even a broken clock is right two times a day." The faintest whisp of a smile illuminated his cheeks, but it was gone before $firstname could be sure. "Since so few passed, a review is in order. We will begin again with Bakemonogatari." The class groaned. "Suffer," Mr. Sprinkle said. "And $firstname $lastname? I need to see you after class." $firstname shrank into her seat as Mr. Sprinkle fiddled with the T.V. <<if $score gte 2>> [[After Class|Pass]] <<else>> [[After Class|Fail]] <</if>>

Bakemonogatari is a hyper styalized anime centered around some kid's relationship with a bunch of supernatural women. The story makes little sense, and its only redeeming factor is the artistic brilliance in which the animation is done. If artistic brilliance was all that counted, however, then $firstname could forgive things like Bakemonogatari, or the Renaissance, for the rampant heresy they spouted. It wasn't though. Just as the Renaissance spat in the face of the Church, so too did Bakemonogatari spit in the face of the Lord. "Hitagi is my waifu," God said. And God wasn't helping with His constant comentary. He kept spouting words she couldn't understand, and though $firstname didn't know what a 'waifu' was, she was reasonably certain it did not mean 'burn at the stake', and therefore disagreed with her Lord's opinion. God clearly did not have His own best interests at heart. "Kanojo wa totemo kawaīdesu," God said. See? Heresy. Mr. Sprinkle leaned back in his chair and gave $firstname a wide smile. "I just wanted to congratulate you. You scored higher than every other student in the class." "Thank you, Mr. Sprinkle," $firstname said. "I let my faith--" "So high, in fact, that it seems impossible. I didn't even offer extra credit, yet you managed to score one hundred and three percent." God snickered. "Frankly, it doesn't make sense," Sprinkle continued. "But there it is." He threw $firstname's test onto his desk. In its corner he had written and circled 103%, and then followed it with a question mark. "You must really like anime." $firstname swallowed some bile. "It's my favorite." "Is it?! Then you wouldn't mind if I brought your little hobby before the school board. They sure do love it when a student excels." $firstname was beginning to think that Mr. Sprinkle might not be entirely sincere. If the school board thought she had cheated, well, that would be the end of her academic career. She twirled a strand of her hair. "I'd love to SHOW you how I managed to score so high." Mr. Sprinkle hardly noticed her. His eyes had taken on a rabid light, and a small bit of foam bubbled at the corner of his mouth. He didn't seem like the kind of man that was into regular girls. //Please God, help me with this task.// "Are you seriously asking your Lord God for help in seducing your teacher?" God asked. [[Yes|Yes 2]] [[No|No 2]]

Bakemonogatari is a hyper styalized anime centered around some kid's relationship with a bunch of supernatural women. The story makes little sense, and its only redeeming factor is the artistic brilliance in which the animation is done. If artistic brilliance was all that counted, however, then $firstname could forgive things like Bakemonogatari, or the Renaissance, for the rampant heresy they spouted. It wasn't though. Just as the Renaissance spat in the face of the Church, so too did Bakemonogatari spit in the face of the Lord. "Hitagi is my waifu," God said. And God wasn't helping with His constant comentary. He kept spouting words she couldn't understand, and though $firstname didn't know what a 'waifu' was, she was reasonably certain it did not mean 'burn at the stake', and therefore disagreed with her Lord's opinion. God clearly did not have His own best interests at heart. "Kanojo wa totemo kawaīdesu," God said. See? Heresy. Mr. Sprinkle steepled his fingers as the last student left the room. $firstname sat calmly in her chair. Maybe it was her experiences over the past week, but she did not feel as scared of authority as she'd once been. The worst he could do to her was to give her detention. $firstname smiled. To her, that was no punishment at all. "Do you know why I prefer subbed to dubbed?" Mr. Sprinkle began. $firstname didn't know, nor did she care. "It's because the English language is a vulgar, bastard tongue, lacking beauty and elegance. I learned the Japanese language because I appreciate art, and it's this appreciation that I struggle to pass on to my students." $firstname yawned. "It irritates me when my students disrespect that art!" Mr. Sprinkle shouted, abandoning his charactaristic monotone. "You, $firstname $lastname, scored the lowest out of every other student in my class. Frankly, I'm amazed you managed to do as poorly as you did. Even random gueses should've yielded at least a couple right answers; but no, you systematically failed every question." And? "And that's why I will be calling your father tonight to discuss your performance." $firstname sat upright. He couldn't speak to her daddy; if he did then her daddy might get mad and punish her, and not in the fun way. "Please, sir. Isn't there SOME way I can convince you to give me a higher grade?" $firstname mewed, blinking her eyes far faster than she physically needed to. "Nope. It's happening. You are dismissed." $firstname fell back into her seat with an umph. Mr. Sprinkle, it seemed, was not the kind of man that got off to normal women. //Please God, help me with this task.// "Are you seriously asking your Lord God for help in seducing your teacher?" God asked. [[Yes|Yes 2]] [[No|No 2]]

//Yes,// $firstname thought. A pause stretched between them. "Fuck it, why not?" God said. "It ain't like I've got anything better to do." From somewhere distant came the sound of a snapping finger. Colors ran down the wall like melting wax. The world twisted and melded, merging into a multi colored sludge. $firstname's skin dripped. She tried to scream, but her lips grew together and she couldn't open them. She clawed at her face, peeling great, goopy strips of flesh from herself and dropping them into a puddle at her feet with a plop. From the other side, in whatever twisted realm God inhabited, $firstname heard the sound of a soft choir. His voice came through to her then in a slow and melodic sound. "Cats and rabbits Would reside in fancy Little houses And be dressed in Shoes and hats and trousers In a world of my own" God kept singing, but $firstname tuned him out. He didn't seem to be singing for her, but rather as a way of passing eternity. Slowly $firstname began to realize just how tenuous reality really was. She had always been aware He could do so, but to see how casually God remade existance was terrifying. $firstname's sanity slowly slipped away. She would've screamed if she'd had a mouth. Just before $firstname lost her mind completely, though, God's song came to an end. <<set $charliecheat = 1>> "That should hold for a minute," He said. "Enjoy." <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Cogito ergo sum. Cogito ergo sum. Cogito ergo sum.]]

"Please, Mr. Sprinkle," $firstname said, tears welling in her eyes. "My dad can't know about this. He'll--He'll--" $firstname buried her face in her hands and sobbed. "Christ," Mr. Sprinkle said. He leaned back in his desk and chair and took a swig from a metal flask pulled from his pocket. His stony features relaxed as he swallowed the liquid. In a move that was almost human, he offered the flask to $firstname. She took a sip, frowning as the vile fluid burned a path down her throat. She felt calmer, though. The alcohol radiated a pleasant warmth from her stomach. "Miss $lastname, you don't like anime, do you?" Mr. Sprinkle said. $firstname shook her head no. "It's a tool created by the liberal Jews to turn America gay." Mr. Sprinkle blinked as if trying to wrap his head around something monumentally stupid. "I'm not going to pretend that I understand what you just said, but you want to know why I push anime on my students so hard? It's different. I've watched Western television, read Western books, and played Western games, and through it all I've noticed the same stories repeating themselves over and over again. Anime is an accessible way to experience something new. It's not the end all and be all, and Lord knows most of it is shit, but there's nothing quite like finding a good, well written anime." "This world is a dark place," he continued. "And I've made so many mistakes in it. Anime is the only place where I can still lose myself. It makes me happy, and I just want to share that happiness with my students." He finished off the flask. "We'll go with a warning today, Miss $lastname. I won't call your father. And if you really don't want what I'm trying to share I'll construct a curriculum that better suits your palette." <<if $bimbo == 5>> [[Home 5-- Fall]] <<else>> [[Home 5 Success]] <</if>>

$firstname opened her eyes. Colors, that was the first thing she noticed. They were brighter, more vibrant, than any she had seen in the world she had come from-- did that world even exist? The faces surrounding her were simpler, too-- made as if in a hurry, or as if they weren't meant to be examined too closely. Dimly, $firstname realized she was in an anime. On a train, precisely, one heading to God knows where. //School.// The thought came to her like something rising from the dark depths of the ocean. She was $firstname Tokunawa. An honor student and president of her school's student council, $firstname hadn't seen or spoken to her parents in over four years-- as is only natural for a Japanese child. $firstname examined her reflection in the train's window. The most noticable of changes were her eyes. They were massive, taking up nearly forty percent of her face. Even $firstname couldn't deny they were pretty, though; like two emerald jewels. Her eyes caught the light and glistened with hyper detailed irises made all the more beautiful by their size. She inhaled sharply. Her chest, made all the larger by her hyper petite frame, rose and fell like a bellow. That small motion sent her tits jiggling. They seemed to defy physics, moving like sacks of water beneath her school uniform. $firstname toyed with the edge of her red tartan skirt and leaned against a brass pole to watch the scenery go by. Memories flitted through her thoughts. Shinji, her new boyfriend, had confessed his love to her just last week. They'd been friends since they were little. It was strange, though; the only thing $firstname could remember of Shinji was a single moment-- the two of them holding hands and running as the sun dipped below the horizon. That memory somehow formed the core of her uninspired childhood. Shinji was dreamy. They hadn't slept together, but $firstname was certain that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. The train hit a bump, and someone rubbed against her backside. $firstname wasn't surprised. People packed the tram shoulder to shoulder, end to end, and it wasn't unusual for a little bit of accidental touching to occur. What had Shinji worn last week at the swim club? The same tight blue thong as everyone else, but there was something about his face-- how it seemed like someone had spent slightly more time on it than they had on any of his peers. It drew her in. A hand rested lightly above her backside, dragging her thoughts back to the train. It rubbed in slow circles and inched its way lower. //Maybe it's some sort of mistake?// $firstname thought as the hand slipped under the hem of her skirt, lifting it with clear intent. //He'll stop soon.// But the stranger didn't stop. Instead, his rough palm on her butt grew more aggressive. The stranger's hot breath dragged across her neck. He reached around her waist to cup a breasts. $firstname inhaled sharply. She clung desparately to the brass pole, yet her hands still slipped under the intense groping. Lust sparked within $firstname's loins. She'd experienced desire before-- when she and Shinji kiss-- but with the stranger it was so much more intense. She bit her lip in sudden diziness as blood rushed from her head. "Please," $firstname whispered. Her voice came out in a ragged gasp. "I have a boyfriend." She pushed back against the stranger's hand and turned to get a better look at him. Suddenly the train hit a bump. The stranger moved with the jolt as if her were expecting it, shoving $firstname off her brass pole and into the window. $firstname's face and tits squished up against the cool glass, and she watched as her breath misted the cool pane white, growing faster and faster with every passing second. $firstname struggled to hold back a moan. //What if the other passengers see?// she thought, yet for some reason that thought thrilled her. She almost wanted someone to see. The stranger slid his hand beneath her underwear, plunging inside her dripping pussy. The warm schlick of $firstname's juices echoed loud through the suddenly silent tram car. This time $firstname really did moan, quietly though. The man's fingers felt too good not to. //Shinji.// Where was he? Why wasn't Shinji stopping this? $firstname clawed against the smooth glass. If he didn't come soon then she was-- she was... $firstname's muscles tightened as her suppressed moan grew louder. She felt herself gush in a sudden rushing orgasm. The strength in her legs failed, and she remained upright only through the stranger's pinning arm. Behind her, the stranger fiddled with the metal buckle on his belt. It soon hit the train floor with a clatter. $firstname could hardly spare the belt a second thought. Something hard and long pressed against her entrance. $firstname tensed, trying to withdraw from the stranger's cock, but his arm held her still. With a grunt he shoved, entering her fully. $firstname threw back her head and moaned, hiding nothing now. Her fingers upon the glass slid a few inches lower as she shifted herself to better accomadate the man's cock. It reached inside her, touching and stimulating parts of herself that she never knew existed. Was this what sex was? Was this pleasure her body could offer? Could Shinji give her this? //No.// The answer came as if from on high. Somehow $firstname knew Shinji wasn't man enough to give her this same pleasure, and that thought scared her. $firstname loved Shinji. She loved him with all her heart, but she was terrified that she might love this man's cock more. $firstname sank in pleasure. She stopped trying to hide her sin. None of the other passengers on the train seemed to notice though, for even as her cries peaked in volume, men in suits arranged themselves in a ring around the rutting couple, shielding them from view. They faced her with yellow smiles stretched across their faces. The stranger's grip tightened on $firstname's thighs. He grunted, and then a hot flood of cum filled her insides and spilled down her thigh. $firstname screamed in her strongest orgasm yet. She fell to train floor and twitched, drooling as cum splurted like a white fountain from her gaping slit. The feeling seemed last a life time. When one twitching rush of euphoria subsided, another soon followed. Passengers rushed onto and off of the train, ignoring $firstname as she lay on the cool train floor with her butt stuck in the air. Eventually, though, the last aftershock of her orgasm faded into a warm bliss. $firstname regained coherance to an empty train car. Her molester and his cadre of business men had vanished. $firstname looked out the window. She was in a train depot, the end of the line if she remembered properly, and she knew that the train would refuel here before turning and repeating its circet around the city. All she had to do to get home was wait. $firstname's phone buzzed. "Just texting to say I miss you ;-P," Shinji sent. "You're the light of my life." "You're so sweet," $firstname wrote back. "Just got off a BORING train ride home. Can't wait to see you at school tomorrow!" $firstname shut her phone with a click. Her pussy tingled. She licked her lips. She had to experience that again. [[There's no place like home]]

The noon sun cast its glare upon $firstname closed eyes. She opened them to find her regular school, her regular class, and her regular teacher sleeping softly on his desk with a content smile upon his lips. She groaned and rolled over, staring at her non hyper colorized hands. "$firstname $lastname," $firstname said, opening and closing her fists. Her voice sounded false in her ears. "My name is $firstname $lastname." A lifetime of memories-- another's memories-- slowly faded, leaving her with a gnawing satisfaction. Had the events on the train actually happened? $firstname certainly felt like she had recently enjoyed a tremendous orgasm, and as she yawned and stretched, reveling at her floating euphoria, she looked at Mr. Sprinkle. Who had been the stranger? "I'll give you one guess," God said. Of course. But that left one question: would it be enough to keep her out of trouble? "After the fucking you gave him, I doubt he'll so much as remember his own name. You've got a real talent, slut." $firstname blushed, the familiar telltale spark of arousal lighting again between her legs. God had called her a slut. Fuck! That turned her on. Just knowing the Lord saw every one of her sins, knew of her lust and shame, it was almost enough to send her diving for Mr. Sprinkle's crotch. Her fingers slowly slid between her legs. Mr. Sprinkle snored and turned over on his desk. "Detention, Miss $lastname," he mumbled in his sleep. $firstname smiled. "Whatever you say, Mr. Sprinkle." <> <<if $detention == 0>> [[Detention|Detention 1]] <<elseif $detention == 1>> [[Detention|Detention 2]] <<elseif $detention == 2>> [[Detention|Detention 3]] <<elseif $detention == 3>> [[Detention|Detention 4]] <<elseif $detention == 4>> [[Detention|Detention 5]] <</if>> <>

'Ran' would not be too strong a word to describe $firstname's approach to Mr. Pile's office. She went as fast as her clacking heels could carry her. She wanted him. She salivated at her approaching punishment. When $firstname reached Mr. Pile's door, her great bosom heaved with exertion. She barely took time to fix her hair before she knocked. A golden strand fell into her eyes, and she shoved it back in place with a grunt of irritation. Her legs unconsciously rubbed together as she waited outside Mr. Pile's office door-- her ravenous libido already making its hunger known. A shrill voice shrieked from the otherside of the door; it was followed immediatly by Mr. Pile's thunderous bass. Then the door slammed hopen, missing $firstname by a hair. "So help me God, Francis. When I find evidence that you molested these girls I will flay you before the High Cabal. That is a promise," a woman with her hair in a tight bob said. Lines of grey streaked her otherwise chestnut bun, and her eyes wore the heavy crows feat earned through a life of earnest judging. An iron badge featuring a pair of crossed rulers below a skull marked the woman as Fuhrer, the head of the state PTA. "Luckily that won't happen because there isn't anything to find," Mr. Pile said, escorting the woman out the door. His voice was that of barely restrained rage. "I've done nothing to any of my students! How dare you slander me so!" Suddenly, Mr. Pile caught sight of $firstname and his face went white. <<set $detention = 5>> The Fuhrer must have noticed, for she turned to follow his gaze. She took in $firstname's tight dress, massive tits, and pink, slutty lipstick. "Young lady, what are you doing here?" <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[I'm here for detention.]] [[I'm here to get fucked.]]

"I'm here to serve detention, Ma'am," $firstname said. The color returned to Mr. Pile's face. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, a sudden playful smile lighting his lips. "I see," the Fuhrer answered. "And for what reason did you get detention?" "Dress code violation." The Fuhrer nodded, but she still didn't look wholly convinced. "Has this man ever touched you or anyone you know in a sexual way? Has he ever made you feel uncomfortable?" "No, ma'am." "Please stop calling me ma'am. It makes me feel old." "But you are old." The woman's already thin lips thinned even more. "You can talk to me. It's alright, little lady. I can protect you." Her voice held an unspoken threat. "But I am talking. Do you need me to speak up?" $firstname said. She tried her best to still a sudden giggle. This woman was so fun to ruffle. The Fuhrer's left eye twitched. "I can hear you perfectly fine." "Oh good," $firstname smiled. "I'd thought your hearing had gone with your looks." Mr. Pile snorted. The woman rounded on him. "This isn't over, Francis! I'll see you fired if it's the last thing I do." In a righteous huff only a soccer mom can muster, she stomped down the hall and out of sight. [[Blackmail Him]] [[Give in to your carnal desires]]

"I'm here to get fucked!" $firstname giggled, twirling one of her golden curls about her finger. "Mr. Pile fucks loads of girls, but he only chooses the most specialist and cutest girls to fuck in his office." "HAHA! Such a funny girl!" Mr. Pile said. "But let's not waste any more of the Fuhrer's time." He got up and tried to drag $firstname into his office and shut the door, but the Fuhrer stuck her jackboot in the doorway. "Little girl, are you telling the truth? Answer honestly now," the Fuhrer said. Her voice seemed to drip ice. $firstname pouted and stomped her foot. "Of course I am! Why would I lie about being Mr. Pile's favorite?" The Fuhrer grinned in a way that showed far too much teeth. "These are very serious alegations. You will need to repeat what you have told me before the High Cabal. They will decide Mr. Pile's fate." The High Cabal was the ruling council of all the PTA Fuhrer's in the country. Officially, it did not exist, and to acknowledge it was tantamount to signing your own death warrant. Dissidants seldom lasted long after they caught the attention of The Cabal. "I--" $firstname began. "This is not a request. Follow me, girl." "Jolene, she clearly doesn't know what she's talking about," Mr. Pile said. The Fuhrer whirled around. "Francis, when you dropped me for that tart you left me empty, but I have filled the hole you left with power-- more power than you can possibly imagine. I am your God, and as your God I shall have your balls on a plate." Taking $firstname by the arm, she guided her none too kindly away from Mr. Pile's office. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> [[Meeting with the High Cabal]]

$firstname took a seat in front of his desk and crossed her legs, reveling at the feel of her dress' fabric riding up her thigh. She liked this one. She'd bought it yesterday on sale from some designer with an Italian name-- she couldn't remember which. What she did know, though, was that her dress was expensive, very expensive, and she wanted another one. $firstname waited until Mr. Pile managed to stifle his laughter. "What was that all about?" she asked. Mr. Pile wiped a tear from his eye. "God dammed, girl. Damn it was nice finally seeing that bitch get put in her place. She's been after me for years." "What for?" "She says I sexually harrassed some of my students. Something about 'inappropriate teacher-student relationships'." $firstname shot him a sultry smile. "I wouldn't call it 'harrassment'." "Glad you see things my way." $firstname crossed and uncrossed her legs. Her pussy screamed at her to jump on Mr. Pile's lap, to feel his cock slide between her legs. She tamped it down. //Easy girl. Easy.// A new dress. If she had a new dress she could attract more customers. A short term sacrifice for a long term gain. "You have to spend cock to get cock?" God said. "I would call it inappropriate, though," $firstname said. "Oh yeah? Let's see how inappropriate our teacher-student relationship can get." He stood from his desk, scraping the legs of his chair on the ground. He placed his hands on her thighs and slowly slid them up. $firstname let him have his fun. His fingers still felt delightful on her skin. "It would be a shame if the details of our little relationship reached the wrong ears," she said. Mr. Pile stopped. "What are you implying?" "Only that I'm such a ditzy girl, and I would hate to accidentally let slip a secret so important. You know how I get, especially when I see cock." $firstname shot him her best smile. "Are-are you blackmailing me?" $firstname feigned confusion. "What does 'blackmail' mean? I'm only saying that it'd be easier to keep our secret if I had something to remind me. A new dress, perhaps?" "And how much will this 'dress' cost me?" $firstname named a figure. "Jesus Christ," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm just going to cut you a check and then I want you to get the fuck out of my office. I don't want to see you again." "That's rude, Mr. Pile! I thought we had something special." Mr. Pile handed her a check with a lot of zeroes on it. "I did too." <> <<if $day == 1>> [[After School]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Cheer Tryouts.]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Into the mall!]] <<elseif $day == 4>> <<if $bimbo == 4>> [[Home Fail 4]] <<else>> [[Home Success 4]] <</if>> <<elseif $day == 5>> <<if $bimbo == 5>> [[Home 5-- Fall]] <<else>> [[Home 5 Success]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

$firstname's fragile willpower shattered as the Fuhrer rounded the corner. It had been all she could do to keep her dribbling cunt in check as she'd spoken to the woman. With a joyful giggle, she threw herself at the suddenly wide eyed gym teacher, straddling him in his his chair and planting her lips on his neck. Mr. Pile grabbed her by the waist and threw her from his lap. "At least closed the door first," he said. He climbed to his feet and shut the door, locking it with a click. $firstname rolled on the ground and mewed. She plunged her hand between her legs and rocked back and forth. A weak orgasm tore through her. It wasn't as good as Mr. Pile's cock, but she still put her fingers in her mouth and savored her own taste. "Well ain't that a sight to behold. What the hell happened to you?" Mr. Pile said. He loomed over her, shaking his head. "You used to be such a good girl." "You fucked her out of me," $firstname moaned. She had her eyes closed and her hand between her legs. Lord, she was wet. "Get up, slut. I want to use you. I said get up!" Mr. Pile grabbed $firstname by the hair and yanked her to her feet. He shoved her over the desk and yanked her dress above her ass. Reaching into his pants, he unsheathed his cock and pressed it against her pussy. "I want to fuck you. What say you to that?" She couldn't take it any longer. All the long days of desire, of unceasing lust, burned inside her. She'd changed so much. "Yes," $firstname moaned through painted lips. "Take me like a slut." Araw and primal moan clawed its way out of $firstname's throat as Mr. Pile entered her. She'd never felt so full, and as Mr. Pile pulled back, she felt the emptiness return. It felt wrong to lack a cock inside her, like she wasn't complete, and she couldn't help but whine at him to fill her again. Mr. Pile did so, and with each thrust $firstname felt a little more of herself fall and crumble into dust. "This is your purpose, girl! You were made to get fucked!" Mr. Pile roared. Was it? Was this the reason God had placed her on Earth? Was this why he had given her such tremendous tits, a mouth watering body, and a libido that never seemed sated? Maybe her purpose was to spread her legs for countless men, to use herself to sate and create lust. Mr. Pile increased his tempo. He grabbed $firstname's hair and yanked, pulling head back like the reigns on a horse. $firstname smiled at the pain. She thrust back at him with a force that made the desk groan. "Yes!" she cried. "This is my purpose! I'm made for sin! Fill me, sir! Fill me to the brim!" "You got it, whore!" Mr. Pile roared. His grip on her ass tightened as a hot flood of cum painted her insides white. He tensed and twitched, his face twisting into all sorts of funny expressions as he let out a long groan. $firstname followed him. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as a moan tore from her pink lips. She drooled and twitched into the hard desk surface, the remnants of her orgasm still rippling through her body. Mr. Pile pulled out of her with a pop. Sweat glistened across his muscular chest. "You drained me dry, girl." A dribble of cum trailed its way down the inside of her thigh. The familiar tingle of lust sparked again between her legs. Slightly cross-eyes, $firstname looked over her shoulder at Mr. Pile. "Do you want to go again?" The gym teacher grinned. <<set $slut = $slut+1>> <> <<if $day == 1>> [[After School]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Cheer Tryouts.]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Into the mall!]] <<elseif $day == 4>> <<if $bimbo == 4>> [[Home Fail 4]] <<else>> [[Home Success 4]] <</if>> <<elseif $day == 5>> <<if $bimbo == 5>> [[Home 5-- Fall]] <<else>> [[Home 5 Success]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

------------REDACTED------------ <> <<if $day == 1>> [[After School]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Cheer Tryouts.]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Into the mall!]] <<elseif $day == 4>> <<if $bimbo == 4>> [[Home Fail 4]] <<else>> [[Home Success 4]] <</if>> <<elseif $day == 5>> <<if $bimbo == 5>> [[Home 5-- Fall]] <<else>> [[Home 5 Success]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

Her father's car stood crooked in the driveway. Recently he'd taken to a shot of vodka in the office, and sometimes that shot became five, and five became a bottle, and when that happened he'd leave long sobbing messages on the answering machine and crash under his desk. $firstname supposed she should be thankful he didn't drive in that condition, but at the same time she hated having to sleep alone in the big old empty house. Every gust of wind, every scraping branch upon the windows, flung her mind into the wildest fancies and fears. But not tonight. She didn't have to tremble beneath her comforter at random creaks and imagined whispers tonight. That alone made her ignore the smell of alcohol that hung thick in the air as she walked through the door. Her father sat in his arm chair with the lights off. Empty liquor stood around him like tiny glass sentinals, reflecting the pale light of television. "Have you or your friends ever wanted a freshly blended smoothie but found took too long to get from the blender to the pool?" The infomercial said. It showed a black white picture of a woman walking in some backyard with a blender. She tripped and fell, spilling the blender across her gathered friends. The friends looked outraged, and the woman raised her hands and stared at the camera like it was the audience's fault. "Well now you can! Introducing the Brisbee!" A hyper colorized picture of a blender duct taped to the top of a frisbee flashed on the screen. The same woman from before smiled as she held the Brisbee. She threw it to her waiting friends, who caught it and poured the smoothie. They smiled at the camera in a way only self-satisfied white people can. "Order now and we'll throw in the Floven and its launcher for free!" The picture showed a second item: a full feature kitchen oven chained to a cannon ball shoved into a Napoleonic era cannon. "Deliver the convenience of the kitchen from half a mile away!" Suddenly, her father changed the channel to some sermon before the housewife could fire the cannon at her friends. $firstname frowned in disapointment. She'd kinda wanted to see what the thing could do. "Dinner's in the floven-- I mean, oven," her father said. His words were slurred, but not as much as she'd expected. The house phone on its long cord sat in his lap. He stroked it slowly like a man strokes a cat. Cardboard boxes piled on top of each other on the kitchen counter. Stouffer's lasagna was her favorite, but Marie Callender's pot pies followed close behind. Lacking that, Hungry Man filled the void. $firstname whispered a private prayer of thanks that she hadn't been forced to endure a Banquet frozen dinner in a long time. It took days to get that meal's fetid taste out of her mouth. $firstname's mother had been the cook. At first her father had tried, but after he somehow melted the microwave making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich he stayed out of the kitchen as much as he could. The appliance still sat half buried somewhere in their backyard; its plastic and metal walls all twisted and blackened. $firstname grabbed her pot pie and went back to the living room. Her father sat before the sermon on the television, but it was clear he didn't hear a word. His entire body looked tensed around the phone, like he was waiting for the instant it made a sound so he could pick it up. "How was work?" she asked. "Your mom said she'd call today," he said without inflection. $firstname stood shocked. Neither of them had heard from her in over eight months. She'd just up and disapeared one day, leaving behind all of her clothes and a note saying she 'still loved them' but 'loved beige more'. "Really?! Is she coming home? Can I talk to her?!" $firstname said. Her voice came out in a rush. But her father didn't seem to hear her, or if he did he didn't acknowledge what she said. "I hope she's happy," he whispered. "Daddy?" That seemed to break him out of his trance. He smiled at her as a bit of his old self warmed his face. "We'll know when she calls," he said with a smile. "I just need some time. Daddy will be alright." He went back to his sermon. His eyes looked more focused than they had in weeks. $firstname climbed the stairs to her room. Just as she reached her door the phone rang. [[Night 2]]

$firstname's vision swam. The world felt hazy seen through her cloud of desire. Her lust was always there now. It watched and waited, urging her to fuck. More and more that seemed all $firstname was good for; a good fuck. Hadn't there been a time when $firstname had spent her nights on her knees worshipping God? It was so hard to remember. The Lord knew she still spent her nights on her knees, only now instead of God she worshipped cock. What's more, her virginity was in tatters. She'd given it to some random stranger and the police officer that'd interrupted them. Even if she hadn't, though, she'd still guzzled the seed spilled from countless men, or allowed them to bury themselves to the hilt within her ass. $firstname was soiled-- spent and stained by her sins. Still the hunger roared at her. It was insatiable. "One cum," $firstname muttered to herself through painted lips. She knew the words were a lie. They were nothing more than an excuse she whispered to placate her vanishing resistance. It'd been a long time since she'd had the strength to tell a boy 'no'. A part of $firstname hated the slut she'd become, but it was a small part. The rest of her struggled to find new outlets for her desires. How many could she fuck tonight? How many tallies would she add to the ones carved above her ass? The thought sent a decadent shiver down her spine. "Just one cum," $firstname whispered again. She teetered unsteadily on her high heels as she clacked her way towards the club. It pulsed off in the distance, mirroring the thump and pound of her heart beating in her ears. Each of her steps sent small, quivering ripples of sensation from her tits to her mind. Even the act of walking felt like an expression of pure sex. $firstname rolled her hips. With every step she felt herself bounce and shift, jiggling her freshly grown curves. "Where you going, girl?" Someone shouted. The speaker came from a half dozen black men gathered together on a small stoop. They drank deeply from bottles within brown paper bags that smelled strongly of alcohol. One of them whistled. "Bring that pretty ass over here and we'll show you a good time," he said. A grin spread across his face. His teeth shone white when contrasted against his ebony skin. //Just walk away,// a voice within $firstname said. Hadn't that voice been louder once? It sounded so quiet now. //You can still say no.// $firstname tamped the voice down and swayed drunkenly towards the speaker. The lust within her flared. It was a tempest, a storm of flame and desire searing through $firstname, burning away all thoughts of restraint. She grabbed the black man by the shirt and pressed her lips to his. The world spun about them, and for the brief moment $firstname's lips touched his, she felt complete, she felt whole, she felt... good. It was always that way. When a man touched her, when he plunged inside her sopping cunt, she just felt right. With reluctance, $firstname broke away. "Can you make me feel good?" she slurred. The black man blinked as if he hadn't expected his catcall to yield such fruit. He fumbled for words for a moment before managing to find himself. "Sure, babe. My name's--" $firstname silenced him with another kiss. "I don't care. Just make me feel good." The black man took her by the hand to a bare room. The room's only furnishings were a stained, sheetless mattress and a cardboard box with the words 'Not Porn' written in black sharpy along its side. He shoved $firstname back onto the mattress. $firstname landed with a bounce, coming to rest on her back with legs slightly parted. "Make me feel good," she moaned. "Make me cum." She slipped a probing finger between her legs and closed her eyes. The world spun around her. The black man peeled off his shirt and pants. His long and thick shaft sprung from the band on his filthy boxers, pointing at her dripping slit with ominous intent. "Are you sure that this is what you want?" //Stop!// the voice within her cried, its voice now barely above a whisper. "Yes," $firstname said. The man knelt and placed himself between her thighs. The head of his thick cock probed gently against her entrence. He began to shoved, entering her slowly, and $firstname could feel every centimeter of him slide slowly within her dripping hole. "Fuck me," $firstname grunted. She didn't want to wait. She wanted all of him and she wanted it now. $firstname wrapped her legs around his backside and pulled him inside her. His cock entered, and $firstname let loose a shriek of pure pleasure. The black man slowly withdrew, pulling backing before plunging again inside her. He moved slowly, as if he were afraid to hurt her. "Harder," $firstname growled. She pulled with her legs hooked around his backside. The muscles tensed, and $firstname moaned as she found the force she desired. The man slammed into her with an loud slap. He gripped $firstname's shirt and yanked it from her body; the cloth ripped and stretched, baring $firstname's tits to the cool night air. Her nipples stiffened. She yelped as the man lowered his mouth to one, taking it gently between his lips and suckling. It felt so good when a man did that. She dragged her nails across his ebony flesh, leaving long streaks of red. Blood welled in their wake. The flow wasn't heavy-- only enough to leave her mark. It was good to remind a man of what he'd done, of how he'd made her moan. $firstname smiled at the thought that maybe, when it was all said and done, he'd use her memory to get himself off. A familiar sensation built within her loins. She was about to cum. //Finally,// $firstname thought as she welcomed the feeling with open arms. This was what she wanted, what she needed, and as the man quickened his thrusts, she moaned louder, clinging to his back in a desparate attempt to ride the feeling. Her eyes rolled white, her legs trembled, but still she held to him, her mouth open in an endless scream. Suddenly the man tore her grip free and threw her to the bed. He pumped his cock furiously, directing it over her. A hot spray of cum splattered across her face and tits, painting $firstname's skin white. The man groaned, sweat shining bright in the pale moonlight. $firstname's twitched occasionally as the last tremors of her orgasm tore through her. She gathered dollops of the strange man's seed and stuffed them in her mouth. It tasted delicious. She gathered more and more, greeting each drop with a sigh of pure pleasure. Why couldn't she get enough of this stuff. Each mouthful of cum she swallowed sent a tingle to her loins, sparking again her seemingly insatiable lust. $firstname looked up, meeting the eyes of one of the half dozen men she'd left on the porch. They were all gathered now. They stared at her from the doorway with mouths agape. "Next," $firstname said. ----------------- A long while later, $firstname rolled off the sleeping body of her latest lover. She felt sticky, stained and painted in a layer of cum and sweat. The men from the porch lay scattered around her. She'd ridden each more than once, and even managed to coax a few to a final load of cum when they'd protested that they were 'spent'. A half dozen fresh tally marks had carved themselves into the flesh above her ass. She kept tracing her finger along them, shivering as the sensation sent a fresh load of desire to her pussy. It wasn't enough. No matter how much she fucked, $firstname still wanted more. The room swam about her. She slipped her fingers down to play with her needy pussy. If anything, she felt hornier than she'd been when it'd all began. It was all too much. The sensation, the desire, it was all too much. A single whispered word escaped her lips, [["More"|More End]] [["Help"|Help End]]

$firstname brushed the tangles out of her wet hair. There weren't many, there rarely were these days. Her hair had grown so long and sleek, and even rolling out of bed it looked as if she'd spent hours on it. $firstname still liked to brush it, though, if for no other reason than because she enjoyed the feel of the brush dragging across her scalp. Besides, it was good to keep her hands occupied. If she stopped for even a minute they'd find their way between her thighs. Sir's laptop sat open next to her on the toilet. The previous night's video played on her livestream as a placeholder, serving as an apetizing distraction for her fans. Easily three thousand tuned in to watch her streams these days. $firstname was by far the most popular streamer on the site, ranking in donations by the thousands. Dings sounded from the laptops speakers. They'd long since stopped sounding as individual chimes, but rather merged together into a low level hum-- a constant note that was even and loud. It drilled into her, and $firstname found that the more she listened to the sound the more she hungered to hear it. The note filled her with a pleasant tingle-- like the trembling contaction of her toes in the wake of an orgasm-- and it drove all thoughts from her mind, leaving her in a pink fog. $firstname couldn't spend all day brushing her hair and listening to the note, though. She had a job to do, and that job was to look beautiful. $firstname licked her lips and adjusted her towel to sit better around her massive tits. They'd grown so sensitive in the past week, and any fabric coarser than silk or latex left her red cheeked and panting. Her fabric restriction was expensive, but money they brought from her fans more than made up for it. $firstname's tits weren't the only thing to grow on her, though. Her ass had expanded too. It was now a taut, bubble butt with muscles the likes of which would make a tennis champion jealous. It bounced and jiggled when she walked, and $firstname's growing fascination with everything heels helped keep it on display. $firstname couldn't live without heels these days. Even fresh from the shower and nearly naked, she wore them now. It just felt wrong not to have them on her feet. A tube of pink lipstick next to the sink called to her. $firstname put down the brush and leaned close to the mirror, pressing it to her lips. Pink made her tingle, and it looked so beautiful on her lips. Formed in the shape of a perfect cupid's bow, they parted slightly in a perpetual 'O', as if begging to be wrapped around something long and hard. $firstname unwrapped and popped a dick shaped lolly pop Sir had left for her in her mouth. It tasted like strawberries. When had $firstname's lips gotten so fat? Maybe it was because of all cock she'd been sucking. Maybe there was something in a man's cum that made them grow. She had guzzled a lot of cum recently. Finishing her makeup, $firstname turned to the rest of her clothes. Calling the piece of plastic Sir had laid out a dress would've been generous. It was more a candy wrapper. A large, pink candy wrapper that barely contained her heaving tits and ended halfway down her upper thigh. The lower curve of her bubbly ass dangled from beneath the dress' plastic hem. $firstname blew herself a final kiss in the mirror and clacked her way out of the bathroom. Sir had grown his setup significantly. No longer was it just a camera on a tripod facing a motel bed. He had three assistants now: one to hold the camera, another to adjust the lights, and a final to hold a big fuzzy microphone above the bed. They were all unpaid. At some point in the night $firstname would fuck them-- she was their benefits package-- but she wouldn't do it on camera. That honor was reserved for whomever Sir had hired. $firstname hoped he was hot. $firstname took a seat on the bed and faced the camera. Her dress was so short that the fabric rode up and rubbed her backside against the scratchy motel sheets. She crossed her legs and shot the assistant with the microphone a sultry smile. If Sir didn't bring out the hired cock soon $firstname might just pay the assistant early. Sir approached, flicking through a stack of papers on a clipboard. "I've got your contract printed out right here. Sign it so we can begin." $firstname tried to read the first line of the contract, but she couldn't seem to focus. Her lust burned like a furnace between her legs, drawing $firstname's attention away from the legalese. Her mouth watered. Who had Sir hired? Would he fuck her? Would he make her scream? $firstname pressed the pen to the line at the bottom of the page and began to sign her name. [[Chelsea Bechman.]] [["Chastity Slutman"]]

$firstname leaned back in her chair and idly clicked away on her computer. Her phone lay next to her on the mousepad. Occasionally she'd pick it up, checking for notifications she knew weren't there. Nobody ever texted her. That was to be expected, $firstname supposed, for there was no reason to. $firstname didn't have any real friends at the school-- or at least none she would count as anything more than an aquintance. It seemed most of her days were spent drifting from class to class, answering questions when called upon but otherwise not interacting. It was a fine life with solid grades and no real conflict, but on nights like this it left her feeling... bored. $firstname felt stuck in her house. She knew she could leave it, but it wasn't physical bonds that held her, but rather bonds forged from apathy. What was the point in going outside when she had nothing to do? That apathy seemed to spread to most of her life these days. $firstname could pray, but something seemed to hold her back. Prayer didn't have the same allure it once did, and more and more she felt like it was something that she did just to keep her father happy. $firstname could frig herself... again. Of course, she'd already done it twice that night and $firstname was certain more would make her go blind. That was the foundation upon which the church built its Sunday school sex education curriculum. As dissillusioned as $firstname was with the church, she didn't want to test it in something as important as that. Online shopping was out simply because of her lack of money. So instead $firstname clicked her way through celebrity gossip articles on Yahoo. She wasn't even reading them. $firstname clicked more to hear the sound of the mouse than because she was interested in what she was clicking on. With a heavy sigh, $firstname abandoned her search of celebrity gossip and asked Google why no invited her to their parties. The top link was to a place called 'Tumblr'. She sighed again and began to read. ------------------------------- Six Months Later ------------------------------- $firstname pushed her horn rimmed glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. "The male is the inferior half of the species," $firstname typed, "And the white male more so. The oppression wrought by those that would call themselves our masters cannot be forgotten nor forgiven, and it is with a joyful heart that I call upon all people of color and women of liberal mind to purge the cisgendered white male from existence. Only blood can pay for blood, and all tolerant souls should rejoice in the satisfaction of that debt." $firstname shifted her immense bulk to better sit within the confines of her computer chair. Sure, she'd gained a massive amount of weight in the past six months, but that was merely a consequence of battling the oppression men wrought upon society. Besides, beauty norms were a male creation. $firstname's grotesque obesity was just as pretty as any super model-- in fact it was more so, for $firstname had thing super models didn't: curves. "Aren't you a cis-gendered white woman?" a tool of the patriarchy answered. "HOW DARE YOU!" $firstname typed in all caps. 'I am a racial fluid pan sexual demihuman with seven head mates, three of which self identify as African American foxes!' $firstname began to pant. She shoved another fistful of Cheetos basted in lard into her mouth. "My pronouns are Xer, Xe, and Xerxes! I will thank you for respecting them!" "Well, I don't know anything about that," another internet troll wrote, "But isn't saying arguing for the systematic slaughter of a people based on their race, gender, and sexual identity somewhat bigoted?" $firstname wiped beads of sweat from her forehead. She picked up a nearby can of Easy Cheese and stuck the bottle in her mouth, filling it with a spray of orange goop. "No, you cisgendered scum. You can't be racist to white people, nor can you be sexist to men, because both are part of the priveleged group that furthers the systematic oppression of their betters!" //God, some people just never learn,// $firstname thought, still spraying the Easy Cheese in her mouth. She leaned back in her chair. The hinges groaned ominously. "You're so wise, Toucan Crusader 69. How did you discover all of this?" an intelligent person wrote. "I’m just an outspoken feminist who greatly values xer intelligence and independence. In this moment I am euphoric. Not because of any phony man's blessing, but because I am enlightened by my femininity." [[The End]]

$firstname dangled her feet off the side of the building. Below her stretched a sheer drop of fifty stories, and at its base crawled little people and their cars. //They look like cockroaches,// $firstname thought. She threw the still burning end of her cigarette off the building and watched the glowing red end disapear. Tiring of the view, $firstname stood up and leaned off the end of the building, letting herself fall towards the unbroken line of cars and cockroaches and people. She became one with the wind. Its gentle roar grew in volume as she fell faster and faster until it dominated her. Eventually all she could feel and hear was the wind and its roar. Slowly, $firstname reached out her arms. The pavement was coming fast now. She closed her eyes and inhaled deep. The wind caught her. Like a great lifting palm, it carried her up through the clouds and over the horizon. The people became small again, shrinking beneath her as the gentle hand of air brought her farther away. Eventually, she settled on a mountainside overlooking a horizon filled with farms. Different colored fields lay in neat and orderly rows like patches on a quilt. A face formed itself in the clouds. It was an old face, fattened by years of heavy drink and heavy living. Still, despite its age the face was kindly. "Simba," God said. Clouds crashed on top of each other as his face made and unmade itself over and over again. "Simba, you must remember." "Not now," $firstname said, pulling her legs to her chest. "I'm not in the mood." The face stopped shifting. God looked at her with concerned eyes. "I don't ask this question very often, mostly because I don't usually care, but what's eating you?" $firstname took a deep shuddering breath. "God, does life have purpose? Why are we here?" "No," God answered. His voice boomed like thunder. "I got drunk on a tuesday morning and mixed a couple things I shouldn't have. The result blew up and, over the course of a couple billion years, made you. I keep it going because the alternative is lonely." "Then good, evil, none of it matters?" "Good and evil are relative. Hell, everything is relative-- time included-- and I don't much give a damn one way or another. Morality isn't impotant. The story is what's important. It's why I gave man the power to chart his own destiny, and it's why I refuse to gaze into the future." $firstname began to sob. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. "Then why are we here?" "You are a sentient collection of fats and proteins conversing with a being that created the known universe by microwaving the celestial equivelent of a potato, and you want purpose? Fine. Answer me this: what is best in life?" [[Life]] [[You, my lord]]

"More," $firstname whispered. She panted into the stained mattress, rubbing furiously at her slit. She found no satisfaction. There was only the impossible desire for more; more cum, more cock, more... She looked around. Men lay scattered around her. Each was spent, each was asleep, and all were useless. $firstname rose unsteadily to her feet. When the first man-- what had been his name? A rapidly diminishing part of $firstname thought she should know that-- had fucked that first, glorious orgasm into her, he'd torn her clothes. She held the tattered remnants of her shirt in her hand. A piece of $firstname regretted the destruction of her outfit-- she'd looked fuckable in it-- but a larger piece felt satisfaction in its loss. She was coming to find that sex was better when something got destroyed. Nevertheless, $firstname needed to wear something. She dug around in the clothes that lay scattered around her, eventually settling on a white t-shirt that, while hanging down to her ankles, was still tight against her ample chest. She used a switch blade grabbed from the pocket of an abandoned pair of jeans and set to work, pressing the knife into the fabric and cutting away long strips of fabric. What remained was a small, too tight tube of cotton that ended just below her nipples. The shirt showed the underswell of her tits, and if she inhaled too deep it would show everything. Perfect. $firstname finished her ensemble by pulling on her cum stained panties and heels. She caught sight of her reflection in a nearby window and shuddered. $firstname looked like a slut. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smeared, and from her chin dangled a forgotten strand of cum. Everything about her screamed that she'd just been fucked good and hard and was on the prowl for more. She swayed out of the house and into the night, her head swimming through lust. Her heels clacked lewdly on the sidewalk. The club lay ahead. She could hear its bass pounding within her skull. "One cum," she whispered frantic, unaware of the two fingers she'd slipped inside her dripping slit. "I'll just cum once more and then I'm done." ----------------- Six months later. ----------------- $firstname moaned as the stranger pounded into her needy cunt. She looked up at him. What was he? Her third today? Christ, and it wasn't even noon. She'd found him at the ice machine filling a bucket for his wife. Apparently they were on their honeymoon-- not that $firstname cared. He eyed her, and that was all a man needed to talk her into bed these days. Her mornings were all the same. $firstname would roll off the previous night's lover and stumble into the bathroom to wash off her sins. She always reeked of cum. The smell seemed to follow her around, and even a thorough scrubbing-- the few she could manage without breaking down and masturbating-- still left her smelling of seed. After her shower, $firstname would grip the sink and look herself in the mirror. She made the same promise every morning: no more. $firstname would stop right then and there. Her oath rarely lasted longer than fifteen minutes. The stranger increased his tempo. Sweat beaded across his brow, and his breath came in sharp grunts. He moaned, and a flood of hot cum filled her insides, spilling out of her overflowing pussy and onto the sheets. Despite herself, $firstname orgasmed. That feeling-- that high-- was what she lived for, and a man's seed, on her or in her, always brought it. The man flopped next to her. "Hot damn you were incredible," he said. "What was your name again?" $firstname didn't answer. She leaned off the bed and reached a tally mark covered arm for her clothes. They'd long since grown too numerous to count. The tallys covered her back and arms and chest, reaching down the inside of her thigh to the tips of her toes. Nobody else seemed able to see them, though. They were her shame-- the manifestation of her many sins. $firstname liked the tallys. They helped her keep track of how big of a whore she'd become. She pulled on her clothes-- slutty and made sluttier by the tears made by her many lovers. "Wait! Where are you going?" the stranger asked. He'd propped himself on his elbow, and the motel sheets draped off his muscular form. Despite herself, $firstname's lust reignited. She licked her lips and debated whether she could coax him to another round. No, he was spent. Besides, $firstname had to pay her bill before it got too late. Ever since her father had kicked her out for bringing home the basketball team, she'd roamed from motel to motel. It wasn't hard to find a manager willing to make an arrangement. The trick was finding one that tolerated her 'extracuricular enthusiasm'. They all seemed to want monogamy. This manager, though-- this one was good. He seemed to like it when $firstname came to him with a pussy stuffed with cum. She smiled in eagerness, shutting the door-- and the stranger's protests-- behind her. Maybe the manager would finally satisfy her. $firstname doubted it. [[The End]]

"Help me," $firstname moaned. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rubbed furiously at her slit. "Please, make it go away. Just let me stop." A deep rumbling like distant thunder sounded overhead. "Do you not like your gift?" God said. His voice held a hint of amusement. "Do you not like the way it feels?" "No! It's too much," she sobbed. "It never ends. Why doesn't it end?" "Because you don't want it to end," God said. "You enjoy your depravity, and with each sin you enjoy it more. Your lust is a reflection of your own secret desires." $firstname moaned as the truth in his words sank in. She sobbed harder, rubbing even more furiously at her slit. She just couldn't seem to make herself cum. "Perhaps this has gone a little far," God said. "Don't ever say I never did anything for you." He cracked a beer and faded from her mind. Suddenly $firstname's lust subsided. It wasn't gone, not by a long shot, but it had dim. Like a bonfire reduced to embers, it waited in the ash eager to reignite. She stopped rubbing and lay back into the sweat stained mattress. "Thank you," $firstname whispered. Sleep closed in around her. "Thank you." ----------------- Six Months Later ----------------- $firstname looked up and smiled around John's cock. He was her favorite, one of her five fuck buddies. Of course, the exact number of fuck buddies fluctuated, rising and falling as they discovered each other or if $firstname found someone she liked, but it stayed more or less around there. The specific number wasn't important, though. As long as $firstname managed to get fucked at least twice a day she could keep herself under control. Anything less than that and she fell into a lust drunk daze where the only thing that mattered was finding a new cock. $firstname got in trouble when that happened. Still, it wasn't all bad. $firstname had found John in one of those fugues. Her science teacher had grouped the pair of them together for a project-- she couldn't pay attention very well in class these days. Boys distracted her-- and John had agreed to do her math and science homework, for a price. $firstname paid that price eagerly. The socially awkward always seemed to hide the biggest cocks. No, these days the combination of $firstname's reputation and her stable of fuckpets meant that she rarely went a day without getting her requisite number of plowings. Usually she got more. The problem arose when she forgot who she was fucking that week. When that happened, she'd go off and bang someone she shouldn't-- like a teacher or a cheerleader's boyfriend-- and that rarely ended well. Still, as burdensome as managing five separate boyfriends was, it was better than the insatiable lust she'd known before God's intervention. And besides, $firstname didn't really want to stop. She could admit that now. $firstname liked getting pounded. She liked the feel of a man as he thrust inside her, filling and satisfying her like nothing else she'd ever experienced. Sure, $firstname was widely known as the school slut, but a reputation like that served to bring her more cock. The more of a whore she became the more men wanted to fuck her. It was a win-win. John grunted and began to twitch. $firstname plunged his dick down her throat, gulping eagerly the flood of hot cum that spewed from its tip. When he was done, she pulled him from her mouth with a loud pop. A dollow of his seed dangled from her lips. She gathered it and pushed it into her mouth. Sucking cock always left her pussy burning, but she'd be dammed if it wasn't satisfying. She loved cum-- needed it-- and she shuddered at the thought of having to go a day without it on her tongue. "See you after school?" $firstname said with a swallow. John only nodded as if in a daze. He always got like that after he spent himself down her throat-- like a man waking from a pleasant dream. He'd be right as rain, but more importantly stiff, by the time school ended. $firstname straightened and fixed her outfit, touching up her makeup in the bathroom mirror. Her blouse clung lewdly to her ample chest, and her ass peeked from beneath her microskirt. The outfit violated dress code, but she saw getting detention with Mr. Pile as part of the charm in wearing it. $firstname's phone buzzed. 'Bible study today?' her father texted. With great difficulty, $firstname had managed to keep her slutting around secret from her father. It involved sneaking, stowed outfits, and a whole lot of lies. After school bible study was one of them. $firstname snorted. She hadn't so much as opened a bible in over six months. The Catholic church held nothing for her now. $firstname worshipped at the altar of cock. 'Yes Daddy! We're reading Leviticus today,' $firstname texted back. Once she went off to college she could keep herself sated without need of her deception. Until then, though, $firstname needed to keep up the facade. 'I'm so proud of you, sweety! Keep being good!' How had $firstname's father failed to notice the massive whore his daughter had become? It seemed downright stupid. Willful ignorance, $firstname supposed. $firstname's phone buzzed again. 'Hey, slut. March that juicy ass out to the shed behind the baseball field. I've got something for you.' David wrote. He was another of her boyfriends. Her phone buzzed again as David sent her a picture of his throbbing erection. Dick picks were so droll. Still, though, $firstname was horny. She turned in the direction of the field and smiled enticing at a boy she caught staring at her ass. Best not to keep David waiting. [[The End]]

$firstname's room had a walk-in closet. In it, she'd built a little shrine by removing all the shelves, spiders, and exposed wires. Across its walls she'd pasted dozens of identical posters. They all featured Jesus' big, smiling face as he pointed with a cheeky wink. She'd dug them from a trash bin behind the movie theater the first week she was in town. Supposedly they were advertisements for some comedy, but $firstname didn't care; she'd always thought Jesus looked exactly like he did in those posters: big, white, and friendly. "Hate to break it to you, sister," God whispered. "But he's short, brown, and gets real grumpy when someone steals his Funyuns." She knelt before her altar and clasped her hands in silent prayer. "Lord God," she whispered. "What is the meaning of life?" "Shit, right out of the gate? No foreplay no nothing?" He sighed. "If my son is any example, then the meaning of life is to sit on my couch for two millenia watching reruns of The Brady Bunch." "Is it purity my Lord? Will remaining true to you yield understanding?" $firstname heard the sound of God's hand rubbing thoughtfully at His divine stubble. "It's a place you can start," he said slowly. $firstname's thoughts confused her. She'd seen so much sin, so much temptation, and she felt filthy for it. Her skin crawled. It was like a thick film, or a toxic sludge coating her insides. She wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. She wanted to purify herself of her unholy desires, to bathe in zealous fire. Still, beneath the sludge, she felt a yawning urge to fill... something. A sick part of her wanted to leap back into the depravity; to wash fully in its decadent filth. Like a beast rutting in the mud. $firstname wanted to sin. She repressed that side of herself with brutal efficiency. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned," she began. "No, no, no," God said. "Say it with feeling." "Forgive me Father--" "Again." "Forgive me, Father!" "Stop. Let's try it another way," He said. A chorus of angels resounded overhead. Suddenly, a flash of light illuminated her little closet, casting her in its pale brilliance. $firstname squinted into the light as a dark outline floated slowly towards her. The object was a foot long stick wrapped in black leather. From its end it sported nine knotted tassles, and along the stick's side in scarlet letters some divine being had enscribed the word 'Faith'. $firstname gasped. It was a flagellant; a tool used by the faithful in glorious bygone days to repent their sins. A buff man in a Ninja Turtle bathrobe and lime green Crocs appeared behind her and took the flagellant in hand. He looked at her with a kindly expression. "What were your sins, my child?" "I have had impure thoughts, my Lord. Thoughts of a carnal nature," $firstname said. Her voice quivered, and she cast her eyes to the floor in shame. "Have you acted on these thoughts?" "Only some. I want to be touched. I want to feel a man's skin on my own, and to know the full extent of his lust," $firstname said. She shut her eyes and struggled to repress the shameful shiver her admission brought. "Place your hands upon and my altar and lift your hips towards heaven, child. Say forty Hail Mary's and you shall find salvation." $firstname reveled at the cool rush of air that ran between her thighs. The leather dragged lightly across her exposed cheeks. She shuddered, but not entirely from discomfort. "Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art though amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen," $firstname whispered. Leather on flesh echoed against the walls of $firstname's closet. Her voice tore from her throat in a ragged moan. "Louder," God said. Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee--" God brought the flagellate down. "Louder!" "Hail Mary, full of Grace!" "I want hell to hear you scream!" he roared. $firstname moaned. The whip's kiss left hot lines of pain streaked along her flesh. Her grip on the box altar tightened. "Hail Mary!" $firstname's eyes watered and her skin burned, but still she cried in prayer. With every lash and every stinging blow, her impurity burned away. Something warm grew between her legs, and she felt herself build to a feeling she'd never had before-- at least not like this. It built and built, and when at last she reached it apex, she felt herself fall. Down she tumbled, screaming and twitching and moaning into the closet floor. Eventually, though, her orgasm faded, and $firstname opened her eyes to find herself alone in her closet. A spot of drool dribbled from her lips. She wiped it away. Climbing gingerly to her feet, she limped out of the closet and to her bed. Her ass twinged sharply with every step. Sleep closed in from all sides. $firstname closed her eyes and smiled. Confession felt good. <<set $pray = 1>> <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

World's worst dad shirt Starts conversation about Jesus "He appeared on a piece of toast in Peru last month, so, y'know, babysteps."

Despite her declaration, $firstname had no idea where to start. Sinning had always been something that just kind of happened, like breathing; but the thought of doing it consciously made $firstname's toes curl. Besides that, what constituted enough sin? Did she just have to pray to a couple cow statues, or did God want her to murder? $firstname chuckled at her foolishness. Of course God wanted her to murder the heretics. That was every true Christian's responsibility. But what if God wanted her to kill real people? Christian people. Would God forgive her for murdering a Republican? $firstname's stomach curdled at the thought. She'd start small and work her way up if she had to. "G-G-God d-dammit," $firstname whispered. She forced the words over a lump in her throat, but they left behind a pleasant tingle. She said it again, and felt surprised when a warmth began to radiate within her. "God dammit!" Pleasure struck her like a hammer. Her legs felt week. She collapsed into her bed, circling her finger lazily around her belly button as her hand slowly slid lower. "GOD DAMMIT!" A surge of heat flooded through her. She followed it down with her hand, moaning as her fingers touched her dmp and needy slit. She rubbed faster, moving her hand with a rythm that drove her to greater heights of passion. Was this sin? Was this what God meant by living? "God dammit! God Dammit! GOD DAMMIT!" She chanted. A small voice within her whispered that she should keep quiet, that her father would hear. A greater part of her wanted him to, though. Lust welled inside her like a building wave, crashing with a force that could pulvarize rock. Her mind turned to white foam, and her thoughts submerged beneath its surface. She felt like she was drowning, sinking into an inky black warmth. The feeling receded, leaving $firstname panting alone wrapped in her sheets. Sweat coated her naked flesh. //When did I undress?// she thought dully. She felt weak and filthy. She felt like a sinner. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

It took an hour for $firstname to figure out how to summon a chair with more than three legs, and an hour after that to limit the number of legs to four. Creation was hard. It wasn't that actual act of 'creating' was difficult-- all $firstname needed to do was hold an image in her mind-- it was that $firstname lacked imagination. No one had ever asked her to think freely before. Everyone had just told her what she was supposed to believe. This room worked a muscle that $firstname never knew she had. Frankly, the whole thing felt like more work than it was worth. She needed a break. $firstname waved her hand and summoned a four poster bed with red curtains. She sat down, but immediatly leapt to her feet with a scream. Somehow she'd managed to make the mattress out of cockroaches. They abandoned their mattress shape, descending across the floor like a brown, chittering wave. $firstname retreated, the carpet of cockroaches drawing closer. She waved her hand, but that only served to summon a solid one square foot block of cockroaches three feet in the air. It crashed into the floor, throwing the monstrous creatures in every direction. "God dammit!" she roared. Hellfire spat from her fingers, incinerating the chitinous horrors and leaving behind a field of burnt cockroaches, a smoldering four poster bed, and the faint smell of barbeque. She sighed and waved her hand, banishing her mistakes back to wherever they came from. "Having fun?" God asked. $firstname frowned at the ceiling. Was there a ceiling? If she wasn't standing directly on it, she couldn't have told the floor from the walls. It was just white. A white void. If she stared at it for too long despair would begin creeping into her thoughts. The universe needed... something there. She tried to make it blue-- it seemed more natural that way. The ceiling turned into cockroaches. $firstname screamed and threw up her hands, and then just as suddenly as they'd appeared, the cockroaches vanished. The ceiling turned into fire, then cocks, then back to an empty, white void. "You should try black as a backdrop. It makes it feel less empty that way," God said. "And if you're having trouble, start with something small. I didn't create the universe; I created the pieces that eventually formed the universe. The only bits I made out of whole cloth were the angels, and look they turned out-- bunch of fucking automotons. Well, except for Luci. Luci's cool, I guess. Dude knows what's up." [[If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch...]]

Maybe God was right. Maybe the four poster bed $firstname'd attempted had been a little grandiose. She closed her eyes and willed a mattress into existence. It appeared next to her, stained yellow and brown with sweat and dirt. The thing looked like it'd been left on some train tracks somewhere. She poked it gingerly, making certain she hadn't accidentally stuffed it full of cockroaches. It didn't seem to move, at least no more so than a mattress normally did, and $firstname figured if there were cockroaches in the thing then they were at least dead. That was about as much she could hope for. She laid back onto the mattress and began to think. Why had God given her this room? Couldn't he have just handed her a sandwich bag full of heroin and told her to have fun? This whole thing seemed like an awful lot of effort, and God didn't really strike $firstname as the 'effort' type. //The Lord works in mysterious ways,// she thought sarcastically. That was what the priests said whenever something in the Bible didn't make sense. Now it just seemed like a cop-out. $firstname's finger circled lazily around her belly button. Her skin was so soft. The other night had made her feel more alive than any night ever had, and all she had to do was curse with God's name. Her hand slid lower, drifting towards the fire that kindled between her thighs. Men flitted through her mind. Men from school. Men who had touched her, or come close to touching her. Men that she wanted to feel. One stood out from the others: some football player, Dante, she had passed in the halls once. $firstname had no idea why she had such a fixation on him. Sure, he was muscular, and his ebony skin glistened taut and lean in her mind, but she had never spoken to him. $firstname opened her eyes. Dante stood over her with a smile. His cock rose proud and quivering, inches from her face. It was so perfect. $firstname knew there was no possible way that the man had a dick as large and perfect as that, but it was she who had imagined it. $firstname blushed, looking around for anyone that might see or judge her for what was happening. Then she wrapped her hand around Dante's shaft. It was firm, yet soft, and just touching the thing made her spine tingle. Dante-- her Dante-- was without flaw. His muscles were just large enough to draw $firstname in, yet not so big as to become grotesque. His smile was coy, and his hands were gentle as they ran through her hair. He was everything she could want in a man. Yet still she couldn't do it. She let go of Dante's shaft, and he stood there mute. He was like a statue or a doll. His eyes were clouded and lifeless. $firstname sighed. "God said to sin, but I'm not going to do it with a man," she said. "That's going too far." $firstname waved her hand to banish Dante. Dante blinked at her, a sudden focus coming into his eyes. He smiles as she waved her hand, trying and failing a second time to banish him. "Go. Shoo," $firstname said. "I don't want you anymore." Dante's soft smile grew into a wide grin. He took a step towards her, and $firstname squeeked and rolled off the bed, running into the white void to search for a door. One appeared before her but with no handle. She kicked it in frustration. "Let me out!" she screamed into the void. Dante grabbed $firstname wrist and yanked her towards the mattress. "I'm going to make you moan," he said, and threw her on the bed. $firstname landed with a bounce that knocked the breath from her lungs. "No!" she cried. She reached out her hand and tried to manifest a weapon, a knife, anything that could fend off Dante. Her fingers closed around God's flagellate. She struck at her assailant, but the flagellate did little more than make him laugh. Dante caught her wrist mid strike and wripped the flagellate from her hand. His smile grew wider. With a growl, he flipped her over and pinned her to the mattress. $firstname's panties tore from her with a loud rip. Her shirt followed, and then her bra. Dante leaned close to her ear. "Give me some rope," he whispered. "I'll make it more fun." "I'm not giving you anything!" she snarled. A pair of metal handcuffs and a spool of rope clattered into existence next to them. Dante slipped the handcuffs on her wrists and then tied them between her legs to her ankles. $firstname's ass rose between the gaps in her binding to stand bare in the open. $firstname began to cry. "Please! I'm a good Christian. Please just let me go." Tears, as much from the pain as the humialiation, streamed down her face in fat drops. "Sluts should be seen and not heard," Dante said. Suddenly a ballgag appeared between $firstname's teeth. Her sobs cut off with a choked gasp. She bit into the rubber and screamed, but all that came out was a muffled yell. Rope bit painfully into her ankles and arms. Dante walked in a slow circle around $firstname, dragging his flagellate across her backside. The whip left a tingle in its wake. "This is what you want, slut. This is your fantasy." The flagellate's leather tassles struck her with a slap. $firstname moaned at the pain. "Admit it. You like having others in control, don't you? You like being used." $firstname yelled defiantly into her ballgag. Dante spanked her harder. The slap echoed against the void's non existent walls. He spanked her again, and again, and each time she screamed futilely into the red ball in her mouth. She bit so hard that the iron taste of blood covered her tongue. A vibrator clattered to the floor next to Dante. He looked at, a frown darkening his brow. "This is what you want? What naughty slut you are," he said, flicking the vibrator on and pressing it against her slit. "I have the real thing, you know? I could fuck you until you pass out. I could do whatever you want." $firstname shook her head with a loud moan. It seemed even in her fantasies $firstname was afraid of losing her virginity. "Suit yourself," Dante said. He pressed the vibrator harder against her clit, and $firstname screamed. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the muscles in her legs quivered. The bindings, so painful against her skin, sparked a forbidden pleasure in her heart. He withdrew the vibrator from her slit. $firstname yearned for it to return. God help her but she wanted it back. "Admit it," he said. "Admit that this is what you want." He yanked the ballgag from her mouth and waved the vibrator before her. $firstname tracked it. She felt so heavy, so horny, and every part of her screamed for the toy to return-- to feel again the fulfilling pain of a man's domination. "I like it," she said, the words slipping like smoke through her parted lips. When the flagellate came again $firstname didn't try to hide her pleasure. "Yes! Hit me!" she cried. The pain, the restraints, it all combined to send her to an orgasmic heights she had never before experienced. Her mind went blank. Her body twitched. $firstname screamed as her voice grew hoarse and silent with the force of her cries. At last things seemed to calm. $firstname opened her eyes to find herself alone on the mattress. Dante was gone. The ropes and handcuffs were gone. If it weren't for the red marks on her wrist and ankles, $firstname could've sworn she'd dreamt the whole thing. She hadn't, though. The warm honey feeling radiating from $firstname's pussy proved that. She stretched and luxuriated at the feel of her skin on the bare mattress. A lit cigarette appeared between her fingers. Its end smoldered red. $firstname looked at it, marveling at how easily her subconscious manifested its will here. She placed it between her lips and then exhaled a cloud of white and grey smoke. $firstname smiled. Sinning felt good. <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

The final ending is that God asks her 'What is best in life' He asks if she has an answer, and she says yes. The choice is between the two answers. One is... something. Devoting herseleft to God and seeking repentence or some shit. The other is having breakfast with her father and mother. Sunlight streaming through the blinds.

The endless void had to go. $firstname was tired of staring into infinity. Was that what God had known for an eternity? Or maybe it was worse; darkness unbroken until God invented light. $firstname felt lucky that she had the concept of light to begin with. It made the whole process of creation much less depressing. $firstname focused on a spot in the endless void. When she was young, long before her mother had discovered the color beige, her father had won a television and dvd player from a church raffle. He'd bought a movie-- a set of movies-- called Planet Earth. $firstname had watched all of them over and over, admiring the fascinating and chaotic nature of God's creation. In the Jungle biome video there had been a specific place she remembered well; a mountain top looming out over a vast rain forest. She could imagine every inch, every perfect pixel. $firstname opened her eyes and smiled. She stood upon her mountain top as mist rolled down across a jungle, covering it in a vast, grey carpet. Hoots and screeches of distant beasts rose from beneath that grey mist; brought to her on a gust of wind that danced and tussled with her hair. She waved her hand and manifested a bath tub filled with pink bubbles. Only a single cockroach floated in the tub's hot water, so she picked it out with her fingers and tossed off the mountaintop. It puffed into a burst of flame before it struck the first rock. A lit cigarette dropped between her fingers as she climbed into the tub and closed her eyes. $firstname sighed contently as a pair of ebony arms wrapped themselves around her shoulder. She leaned back into Dante's chest. $firstname hadn't meant to summon him. It felt right, though, to have him there. Smoking felt right too. Everything felt right. "I should really get rid of you," $firstname said in a breathy whisper. "You aren't good for me." "Is that what you want?" Dante asked. He took one of her nipples in his calloused fingers and gently squeezed, causing her to inhale sharply. "No," she said. $firstname leaned her head back and offered her lips for a kiss, one which Dante eagerly took. She closed her eyes and reveled at his sweet taste. Thunder rolled across the horizon. Its great booming roar was heralded by flashes of light which illuminated the jungle below. A gust of wind blew across $firstname's exposed skin, chilling her despite the bath water. Her hairs stood on end. Time passed like a river, seeming to move yet not. The water grew cold. $firstname could warm it, of that she was certain, but she stopped herself. She wanted something else. The bathtub dissolved into smoke. $firstname felt Dante stir behind her. "Don't be gentle," she said faintly. Dante lifted $firstname by her hair and shoved her over a carved wooden bench that appeared seconds before she landed. Handcuffs attached to the bench hooked themselves around $firstname wrists and ankles. She couldn't move. The metal dug into flesh, but its pain satisfied her as if scratching a deep itch. Dante rubbed her sensitive backside. His touch was rough, yet at the same time gentle, and she pressed back against him. A smack echoed across the mountain top, ringing in $firstname's ears before it faded. Her butt stung where his hand had met it. "Harder," $firstname said. He struck again. The loud slap of flesh on flesh leaving behind a bright red palm print. "Harder!" she cried again. "Shutup!" Dante said. He stuffed a rubber ball into her mouth and tied it off behind her head. $firstname moaned into the ball. The humiliation, the submission, it thrilled her in a way that made her toes curl. She gripped the metal chains that bound her to the bench as Dante wrapped his hands in her hair, pulling on it like a horse's reins. Tears welled in her eyes. Something hard pressed against $firstname's slit. Her eyes widened in surprise. She tried to scream, but her voice came out in a muffled moan behind the gag. "Just say something if you want me to stop," Dante said. He pressed harder. "Mmph!" she said. "What's that? I can't understand you." "MMPH!!!" "You want me to put it in? Well, if you insist." Dante shoved, ramming inside her completely. $firstname's grip on the metal chains grew white. He was so big, so firm, and $firstname couldn't but moan. She bit deep into the rubber until her jaw ached. Tears poured down her face in salty streams. This was how it ended. This was how she lost her virginity. The thing that galled her most, though, was that she wanted it. Lord help her she wanted it. Dante couldn't have done it otherwise. He pulled back, slowly withdrawing from her clinging pussy. She cried again into her gag, yelling for him to stop but also to continue. All that came out though was the muffled scream of a freshly minted whore. Dante slapped her ass in a blow that echoed through the jungle below. "Admit it. You won't get rid of me until you cum. You love this too much." With that he plunged inside her again. He was right. $firstname loved it. She loved the sinful way his cock slid in and out of her. She loved the rough way he treated her, and she loved the taste of the ball gag in her mouth, and she loved the sting of handcuffs digging into her wrists and ankles. But mostly, though, she loved how filthy it made her feel. She loved to sin. She loved to live. The ball gag vanished. "Yes!" $firstname screamed. "Make me your slut!" Dante gripped her thighs and slammed into her. Their flesh on flesh echoes tore across the mountain and down into the jungle. His grip tightened. He let loose a low grown, pausing suddenly mid thrust and twitching with an open mouthed expression. Hot cum flooded her insides. It triggered $firstname, sending a rippling wave of ecstacy crashing across her thoughs. She began to twitch. A dollop of drool escaped her lips and dripped into the wet rock below. Then the handcuffs and bench vanished. $firstname slowly opened her eyes to find herself curled into the crook of Dante's arm on a king sized bed. Sweat beaded off their naked bodies. She sighed contentedly and curled deeper into his shoulder. The happy warmth of his seed still filled her with a lingering desire. If this was what sex felt like then why the hell had she waited so long? "How soon can you go again?" $firstname said. She had her eyes clothes, and her nostrils filled with the Dante's musk. "This is your world. I can go again whenever you want." A gust of wind blew across the mountain, sending a delightful chill across $firstname's sweaty flesh. "In a bit. Let me just enjoy this for now." <> <<if $day == 1>> [[Day Two]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Day Three]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Day Four]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Day Five]] <</if>> <>

Chastity signed her name and looked up, smiling at Sir. Her thoughts drifted through a pink fog. He was so handsome, and so strong, and he seemed to always know exactly what to do. That was good because lately Chastity had found it impossible to focus on anything but finding another cock to slide between her legs. She was good at that-- finding cock. It was all she was good for. Chastity had painted and molded herself to become the bestest, most fuckable whore on the streaming site. Christ it made her horny. Everything seemed to make her horny these days. She slipped a finger between her juicy thighs and began to rub. Sure, her constant arousal made thinking impossible, but that's why she had Sir. He was as good at thinking as Chastity was at fucking. They were the perfect team. Suddenly Chastity realized that she'd been moaning. The kid with the giant fuzzy microphone stared at her slack jawed. A healthy bulge tented his pants. Chastity licked her lips and beckoned the kid towards her, giggling at how horny she felt. Sir grabbed the kid by the shirt before the kid could take a step and yanked him back into position. "Stop teasing the help," Sir said. He kept his eyes on the nest of cables and wires hooked into the laptop in front of him. Chastity crossed her arms and pouted. Sir hooked the final cable into the laptop and stepped back with a smile. "Stream is live. Someone go tell Hung Lo that we're ready for him." Hung Lo was a giant of a man with wide shoulders that barely fit through the conjoining door. He stepped into the room nearly naked-- his only piece of clothing being an old ushanka with a Soviet hammer and sickle sewn to its middle. The motel room shook at his steps. "This slam piece?" Hung Lo said in a thick Eastern European accent. Hung Lo eyed her with eyes like stone. Finally, he nodded, as if finding her satisfactory. "Very nice slut. Pretty whore." Chastity giggled. "Oh stop. You're going to talk me out of this dress." Not that that was too hard to do these days. Hungo Lo strode forward and stepped between her thighs. He loomed above her, a giant of a man. "I tear you from dress," he said. His voice rolled across her like thunder. Chastity let herself fall back into the bed with a content sigh. This was what she was made for. -------------------------- Six Months Later -------------------------- Chastity bobbed her head along Sir's cock. His dick felt good against her lips, and blowing him kept her from thinking. That was good because Chastity wasn't very good at thinking. Initially Chastity had tried to keep track of her earnings, her shoot dates, and the people she had to fuck. One by one that had all fallen by the wayside. Sir was so much better at that kind of thing. He managed her money now, giving her a generous allowance for clothes and makeup on the first of the month. The allowance rarely lasted her past the second. It wasn't that Chastity was stupid-- well, perhaps she was a bit of a ditz-- it was that she was constantly horny. Every time she sat down with Sir to try and get handle on how much money she had, she'd last about five minutes before she found herself on his cock. That was why Chastity didn't try. She knew what she was good for. It involved her mouth, and her tits, and her pussy, and it did NOT involve math. "You have a shoot this afternoon with Tommy Salami," Sir said, flipping through a calendar. He rarely payed attention when Chastity blew him, and for some reason that really turned her on. Everything turned her on, actually, but being ignored more so than most. Mmmh?" Chastity mumbled around the shaft in her mouth. Tommy Salami was no Penis De Milo, but then few men were. Sir frowned down at the page. "This studio is too small. They barely advertise enough for us to cover our shoot costs. We need to do some serious outreach, but for that we need money." Sir looked at her with a suddenly critical eye. "How do you feel about fucking someone rich?" Rich? Rich meant money, and money meant shopping, and shopping meant clothes! "Mmm!" "That's what I thought you'd say," Sir said. He stood and pulled out of her mouth with a pop. Shoving his still hard cock into his pants, he zipped himself up. "Come on. We've got an important place to be." Chastity pouted, staring at the place where the cock had been just moments before. Finally, she stood and tottered unsteadily on her heels after Sir, her tits falling out of the tiny outfit she'd shoved herself into. "But Sir, what are we doing?" Chastity said. "We aren't doing anything. You on the otherhand are going to fuck an arms dealer!" Chastity squeeled in joy. [[The End]]

$firstname took a deep breath and forced her lust down. She had to focus. She flicked back to the start of the contract and began to read. The contract included a few funny provisions. There was a consulting fee, a managerial fee, and equipment fee, an administrative fee, a finder's fee, and a fee processing fee, all payable to Sir. The total cost of the charges accounted for nearly fifty percent of her expected revenue, and that wasn't even including his standard salary-- which $firstname was apparently paying him. That was news to her. $firstname looked up and frowned at Sir. "Why am I paying you both an administrative fee and a managerial fee? Aren't those the same service?" A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of Sir's temple. "The administrative fee regards the handling of paperwork, and the managerial fee is for the handling of personnel," he answered. "I'm paying you eight hundred dollars because you printed out this contract?" "It's much more complicated than--" "And another seven hundred dollars because you posted an advertisement on Craigslist? Or is the Craigslist advertisement for the four hundred dollar finder's fee?" Sir ground his teeth. He frowned at her, as if surprised she had the intellect to resist him. "These are the costs of my services," he said. $firstname snorted. "And here I was thinking that it was your salary that covered the costs of your services," she said. "Silly me." She sighed and massaged her temples. This shoot wasn't about making money. It was about putting together a presentable portfolio that she could send to the name brand production companies. They were where the real cash was. Despite that, $firstname would be dammed if she was going to let Sir get away with this robbery. $firstname handed the contract back to Sir unsigned. "Cut the fees or slice the salary. I'm not paying both." Sir grumbled as he took the contract back to the laptop and started making changes. "And throw in a couple bucks for the camera crew. I feel bad about using unpaid 'interns'," $firstname said. She popped the dick shaped lolly pop out of her mouth and threw it into the trash. She pointed at the cute boy with the boom mic. "You there, get over here and let me suck your cock." Sir was going to take awhile, and $firstname needed to wrap her lips around something more substantial than a piece of candy. ----------------- Six Months Later ----------------- "And scene!" the director shouted through a comically large funnel. "Strike the set and setup for 2:06. That's the slave cabin scene for those that skipped the day's briefing." $firstname rolled off her co star and panted into the sheets. Sweat beaded upon her skin, catching and reflecting the dozens of lights all directed towards a faux Victorian era bedroom. Today, $firstname was playing a young governess in a southern plantation who was trying to keep her trysts with the various slaves a secret from her father. Objectively, the story wasn't very well written, but for porn it was practically on the level of Roots. An intern passed by carrying a golden platter heaped with a mound of cocaine. He offered it to $firstname and her co star. $firstname turned him down. Cocaine made thinking difficult, and she didn't need the boost of energy the drug would give her. Sex did that on its own. She climbed out of the bed as Tom approached with a robe and a clipboard. He wrapped the silk garment around her shoulders and followed a half a step behind as she walked to her trailer. "I just got off the phone with Jacob Tyler over on SyFy," Tom said. "They're interested in casting you as the love interest in Sentient Refrigerators: Prepare to Chill. It's not much of a role, but if things work out it could be the first step towards legitimate acting." Tom was a good manager. He tried. $firstname had fired Sir as soon as she possibly could, hiring Tom in his place. Sir kept trying to take advantage of her, sneaking clauses into their contracts that would've funneled too much of the profits into his pockets. He lacked ambition, too, choosing short term gains over long term investments. $firstname was trying to build something here. Porn, as enjoyable as it was-- and it was very enjoyable-- was not something she could do forever. They got to her trailer. $firstname poured herself a glass of water, gulping it down eagerly. Sex was thirsty work. "Did you hear back from Lock of Love?" she asked. Lock of Love was a new reality show MTV was tossing around. It was about one guy trying to choose and reform one of a dozen slutty women. Tom frowned. "You don't want to be on that show. The women there don't leave with the best reputation, or the best prospects." $firstname nodded. He was probably right. A knock sounded on her trailer door. A fresh faced intern popped his head inside. "Miss Chastity, one of the set pieces fell apart. The director says it's going to mean an hour delay." $firstname thanked the intern, smiling when she noticed how the boy's eye's lingered on her gentle curves before he slipped away. She felt a fire kindle between her legs. Christ, her session with Penis De Milo hadn't nearly satisfied her. She turned back to Tom, slipping the silk robe off her shoulders and baring her ample breasts. "Tom, do you want a bonus?" she asked. Tom's clipboard fell to the trailer floor with a wooden clatter. He flew to her, wrapping his arm around her waist with a growl. $firstname let him carry her to the back of the trailer and throw her on the bed. //This is the life,// she thought with a smile. [[The End]]

Images flashed through $firstname's mind. Memories of mist rolling across a jungle, of the feel of leather on flesh, and Dante's rough hands caressing her, holding her. She remembered her first cigarette, and the absolute terror of a room filled with cockroaches, and the pride of making her first non insect related creation. She remembered her bath, and she remembered the smell of the jungle wafting up the mountain and mixing with her watermelon scented soap. But mostly she remembered the pain, and the pleasure, and pain mixed with pleasure so completely that there could be no distinguishing between the two. $firstname remembered living. "Life," she answered. "The purpose of life is life." "Never took you to be a nihilist," God said with a smile. Then he was gone, and $firstname found herself floating alone in the white void, a cigarette dangling forgotten from her fingers. Somehow $firstname knew He wouldn't speak to her again. She was saddened by that knowledge, but that sadness held a certain sweetness to it. There was joy in suffering, if for no other reason than because the sensation reminded her that she was here and that she was alive, and as long as she felt something-- anything-- she would continue to be so. With a smile, $firstname gazed off into the white void. God was right, black was a better background color. With a careless flick, $firstname tossed the still smoldering cigarette into eternity and got to work. --Fourteen Billion Years Later-- A gust of wind blew a scattering of red and gold leaves off their branches and into the gutter. More leaves followed them, falling in ones and twos in a twisting dance before landing in a heap with their fellows. $firstname propped her feet on the table and inhaled. She liked the evening air, the smell of the cafe and the buzz of its patrons. They were a distant hum that sounded low and constant-- a dozen conversations merging ontop of each other. That sound and the smell of changing seasons was why she had spent so long in this place. Years had long since ceased to hold meaning for her. She was old, or maybe she was young; time had a funny way of passing. It seemed to flow, but then it didn't. It was like cold honey dripping down a verticle surface. The more she watched the slower it moved, but take her eyes away for even an instant and it'd be half way down the wall. What did it matter, though? What did time matter? $firstname was happy here, and that was all that really mattered. Dante pulled the chair across from her out, seating himself stiff backed with crossed legs. He wore a suit of black and red. It was starched and smelled faintly of cologne. $firstname sighed and put away her romance novel. It vanished before it hit the table. "I should've guessed you'd have found me eventually, Dante. You always did like to show up when you weren't wanted." "Ten years, $firstname. You've spent a decade sitting in that chair watching the cars go by. Of course I was going to find you," Dante said. "Ten happy years." "When was the last time you did anything of value? You've wasted so much time. There's still suffering and pain in the world! You could've solved it all!" $firstname massaged her temples. This wasn't the first time they'd had this discussion. $firstname wasn't in the mood. "What do you want, Dante?" Dante reached into his briefcase and pulled out a manilla folder. He plopped it down in front of her. "I want a rematch." "Do you now?" $firstname said. She dug into her nose with a long nail she'd manifested perfectly for picking. When she found nothing she frowned, briefly manifesting some boogers so she could feel the relief of removing them. "Are you going to try the same shit you tried last time? It won't work, Dante." "No. This time I'm going to try pleasure." Something long forgotten tickled at the back of $firstname's mind. This felt familiar. She picked up the folder and began to read. "Mauve?" $firstname asked, raising an eyebrow. At least Dante had the self-awareness to look abashed. "New intern," he said. "He isn't working out." $firstname nodded and kept reading. Dante's choice was a good one. Some kid named Jeremy. He'd been raised in a pious household and sheltered from all the pain and trials of the world. He hadn't lived a happy life, but it was a life; Jeremy was the perfect blank slate. At least Dante hadn't been trying to pull one over on $firstname. "And what are the stakes?" she asked. "If I win then you take a more active role. No more of this 'Divine plan' bullshit," Dante said. "And if I win?" "I'll leave you alone for another century." $firstname thought for a moment. Should she take a look into the future and see the results of this whole thing? But no, that would be cheating. What was the fun in making a bet if you knew how it was going to turn out? "Done," she said. "One more thing," Dante said. "I want to be able to change him. The kid is built like a stick." $firstname smiled. That could be fun to watch. "Fine," she said. "Now get out of here. I've got important things to do." She held out her hand as the ear marked romance novel dropped back into it. Dante rose and nodded to her. Eagerness tugged at his smile. $firstname sat for a time in that cafe trying to read her novel. Something wasn't right. The Fall scent had lost its pleasant sweetness, and the patron's voices were too loud and buzzing. With a growl of frustration, she chucked her novel at a passing car and stood. "Damn Dante and damn his games." She vanished in a puff of smoke. [[The End]]

Memories flashed through $firstname's mind, but she shoved them back. The memories of week were weakness; they were chinks in her mortal mind baring her faith to the temptations of sin. God had granted her this room, this palace of impossible desire, to test her. $firstname couldn't fail Him now. Not when she was so close. "You, My Lord," $firstname whispered. "The purpose of life is to live in your light. We exist to better understand the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ." She bowed her head. The face in the clouds blinked impassively. His voice took on a more formal hint. "So you hold true to your answer on the first day, my child?" "I do, my Lord. There can be no God but you. There is no love without your love, nor light without your light, and I dedicate my life to your worship." "Is that so?" God said more to himself than to her. "Well that's a lot of pressure." "My Lord?" God's face broke into a smile that didn't reach His eyes. "Good job. You figured Me out. Now go forth, child, and do good works in My name." Righteous euphoria blossomed in $firstname chest. "I will, Lord! You won't be disapointed in me!" God nodded in a way that made $firstname think He was sad. But that couldn't be right. $firstname had chosen correctly. Suddenly God vanished, and $firstname found herself kneeling in her closet before her altar. A cockroach crawled slowly across her palm. She frowned at the insect. The thing wiggled its little antennae at her. $firstname smashed it aganst the wood floor. Such horrid little things. --Eighty Years Later-- $firstname rested her wrinkled hand upon her bible. Trimmed in gold and wrapped in leather, the book had been her constant companion since she'd entered the abbey some seventy-five years prior. She gazed into the fire crackling in its hearth. At some point $firstname had grown old. Stairs that she'd once leapt up with ease were now impassible, halls she'd run down now seemed to take hours to traverse, and every time she got of bed her bones seemed creak just a little bit more. One day they might just snap at the effort. $firstname didn't mind, though. It was all part of God's plan, and $firstname had made it her purpose not to question God's plan. A knock sounded at her door. It opened with a loud groan. $firstname should really get someone to take a look at those hinges. "Mother Superior?" A young girl in a habit said, poking her face carefully through the gap. "Come in, child," $firstname croaked. Her voice came out like rough sand paper. "I'd stand but these bones don't move like they used to. Don't ever get old." The young woman kept her eyes to the floor. "My name is Isabella. I am new to my vows and this place, and the other sisters said to speak to you after I settled in." $firstname smiled. She could remember being Isabella's age, just barely. It had been scary first coming to this monastary, leaving behind her family and friends. The monastary soon became home, though. $firstname felt more comfortable here than she did anywhere else. "Be at ease, my child. What brings you to my room?" $firstname said. "Do we really have to wake up at dawn? And do we really have to clean the chicken coops with our tongues? And do we really have to stand one legged on posts while other sisters beat us with rulers if we violate our vows? Or--" $firstname held up her hand and smiled. It seemed the sisters had been at it the again. The poor girl must be terrified. "Be at ease. Waking up at dawn becomes easier the more you do it, and yes we use corporal punishment, but rest assured, we do not own a single chicken coop." "Oh thank God." "We own three." Blood drained from Isabella's face. She opened and closed her mouth silently. $firstname laughed in a manner that sounded more like a gasping wheeze than a chuckle. Christ it felt nice to laugh again. Her body might fail, but time would never take her sense of humor. When she managed to compose herself, $firstname spoke again, "Ask the question you truly want answered." Isabella frowned down at the hem of her habit. "Do you ever regret it?" "Sometimes," $firstname said. She leaned back in her chair. "Sometimes I wish I never came to this abbey. Sometimes this place feels more like a prison than a home. I'd have liked to have seen more of the great works God has done upon the Earth." "But the feeling always passes," $firstname continued. "God is my life, and I don't regret for a moment devoting myself to Him." [[The End]]

Sin. $firstname was a sinner, all people were sinners, and no soul was so clean that it couldn't do with a bit of scrubbing. That's why God invented praying. By communicating with The Lord, a soul allows His light to purge its unclean thoughts and feelings. If man truly wished to walk towards Jesus, then he must take care to ensure he is walking in the right direction. Pray But then, something about her first day in school had awoken within $firstname a throbbing hunger. Strange desire screamed at her to sin, to shatter the bonds of propriety and give herself completely to the torrent of new experiences the day had brought. Perhaps this voice was worth listening to? Masturbate A cheerleader, though, should take pride in her appearance. Stacy and Gabby won't accept a frumpy church girl into their group. Perhaps $firstname should spend the evening in her limited wardrobe putting together something presentable. A pretty girl like her should definitely look her best. Model Praying had always helped fill the space when noone else was there. For some reason though, it hadn't been as helpful of late. When God did speak, He said some pretty disturbing stuff. Even so, maybe tonight would be different. Pray 2 But then, that gnawing hunger had returned. $firstname remembered with a yawning need the countless hours she'd spent the night before with her sheets wrapped about her sweaty body. What would it be like to feel such sublime pleasure again? Her finger slipped easily below the line of her panties, and it was without the faintest surprise that she realized just how wet she was. $firstname bit her lip. Just a couple minutes to... Explore? The doorbell rang. A UPS guy stood on her doorstep making notes into some brown pda. He'd piled at his side some twelve boxes. $firstname took it and signed her name, carrying all of the boxes up to her room. They were quite heavy. Had she really ordered this much? It hadn't seemed that way when she'd done so the night before. In fact, now that she thought about it maybe she should see exactly what she'd bought. Model 2 She could pray. Praying had always been the best way to relax before. Maybe God would like to hear about some of her problems? "I DON'T," God said. "PLEASE DON'T. LISTENING TO YOUR INANE CHATTER IS THE WORST PART OF MY DAY." Oh, He was such a kidder. $firstname knew that deep down He would like nothing more than to hear at great length and detail about the finer points of her breakfast. "NO!" Pray 3 $firstname shifted uncomfortably. The hunger in her loins had returned, again, stronger this time. Her mouth felt dry as a surge of blood shifted to her groin. She could 'explore'... no; it was time time to drop the euphanisms. She could masturbate. She could press her expansive chest against the window and plunge her hand between her legs. She could gush and moan and scream, and she could it all for anyone to see. But $firstname knew it would do no good. Yesterday had proven that. The club was open though, and $firstname knew the only way she could satisfy her apetite was in the arms of a man. No, hundreds of men; their countless hands groping and feeling every inch of her sweaty body. In that majestic hall, the thin fabric of her dress lay as the only barrier between her and bottomless sin. Should she though? $firstname had noticed that every orgasms made her desires more intense. It was an addiction, a need, and $firstname wondered if she had the strength to resist her body's siren's call. Explore 3 Boxes piled ontop of boxes cluttered $firstname's room, and none of them held anything worth wearing. Well, that wasn't entirely true, at least not after her shopping trip with Stacy; Stacy had such good fashion sense. Despite those outfits though, $firstname wanted more. She wanted something pink with great gold earings and makeup and... and... well, there were a lot of things $firstname wanted, and she knew exactly how to get them. Opening up her homepage, $firstname checked her earnings. She'd recorded roughly ten hours of video yesterday, and in the time that they'd been up she'd raked in almost a thousand dollars. That money was nearly all gone though, poured into the boxes of useless fabric that surrounded her. What had possessed her to waste all of that cash on such ugly clothes? Sure, the time spent had passed in a hazy blur of happy hormones, but it was time wasted now. She had to earn more. She had to fix her wardrobe. Model 3 She wiped them away as her phone buzzed. 'Hey! It's Charlie. What time should I pick you up for our date?' her phone read. Right, Charlie. Sure, he was weak and had the physique of a sys admin, but he didn't treat her like a hole. That seemed a good a place to start as any. Answer Back But then, $firstname had discovered other... more interesting ways to feel like less of a piece of shit. There were boys out there that appreciated $firstname and her various talents, and $firstname appreciated them. Oh, how she appreciated them, and their long cocks with balls stuffed with cum. Her stomach growled. Her mouth watered. Christ, she was wet. What had happened to her? Why was she so fucking horny, and why couldn't she just be satisfied? It seemed every cock she sucked, every drop of cum she ate, just left her hungry for more. //How much will I take tonight?// she wondered. But what if it wasn't enough?! What if, despite all of her desperate efforts, $firstname went home just as ravenously horny as she was now? There had to be some way she could find satisfaction; some depravity she hadn't yet indulged in. "You have another hole," God said to her. Yes! Yes she did! But, that was her virginity, her most precious of objects. If $firstname gave it away, she would be ruined, not because she'd lost her virginity, but because the sensation would be so intense that she'd never be satisfied without it. That was why she couldn't fall. Yet still, her libido raged. She had to find some way to satisfy it. Everything Butt But then, $firstname had discovered other... more interesting ways to feel like less of a piece of shit. Boxes surrounded her, all packed with tiny pieces of fabric, but all of it wrong. She was getting close now. She'd almost fixed her wardrobe, but something was missing. The color! The color was all wrong. She needed pink! Bright pink! With pink lipstick and pink shoes and a pink thong poking out of a pink micro mini skirt. She needed her ass to be on display. She needed boys to look and men to drool, and she needed their cum-- no, their money. Her computer dinged. Christ, that sound was marvelous. High, then low; it made $firstname want to do whatever it demanded. Anything. She would do anything if it meant just a few more dollars. 'Get your cute ass down to the Palm's Inn,' Sir wrote her in a private message. 'I've got a way you can make a shit load of money.' A job's a job. $firstname shook her head. Things were getting way out of hand. She needed a moment. $firstname needed a break. Prayer. Prayer had always been her salvation before, before all this, before the boys and the temptations and the divorce... God would know what to do. He always did. "Please don't spend another night bombarding me with your inane chatter," God said. "I don't want to spend one more second hearing about the butterfly you saw on your way to school, or the unholy feelings my good for nothing son wakes in you. I just don't care." Ask God why He made black people

<> <<set $name = "Chelsea Bechman">> <<set $firstname = "Chelsea">> <<set $lastname = "Bechman">> <<set $namenumber = 5>> <<set $slut = 0>> <<set $bimbo = 1>> <<set $detention = 0>> <<set $day = 1>> <<set $explore = 0>> <<set $model = 0>> <<set $pray = 0>> <<set $charlie = 0>> <<set $date = 0>> <<set $score = 0>> <<set $transformed = 1>> <<set $allfail = 0>> <> A gust of wind blew a breath of red and gold leaves across the pavement and into the gutter. The leaves crunched loud under the wheel of a black cadillac as it pulled up along the curb. A woman in a finely tailored suit wearing black sun glasses climbed out of the car. A gold watch clung to her wrist. The woman looked around, frowning at a man that sat at a table in a cafe reading a worn T.V. guide magazine. "Should've known you'd have found me eventually, Lucifer," God said. He didn't look up from his T.V. guide. God wore a faded Ninja Turtle bathrobe over a 'World's Best Dad' shirt. On His feet were a pair of lime green crocs, which he had propped on the table before him. "You've spent three years in this cafe reading that magazine," Lucifer said. Her voice sounded smoky and dripped with command. "It isn't hard to search all of creation when the only part you pay attention to is this miserable blue rock." "I guess it's just as well. I was getting kind of bored," God said. He tossed the magazine over His shoulder. It vanished before it hit the ground. "Why are you bothering me today, Luci?" "I want a rematch." God stuck a finger into His nose and began to root around. After a few moments, He withdrew his finger. A long, yellow booger clung to its end. God rolled the booger into a ball and flicked it at Lucifer. It landed and stuck to angel's collar. "Do you now?" God said. "Are you going to pull the same shit you tried with Job?" The booger smoldered. Thin tendrils of smoke drifted from it as its outside shriveled and blackened. Suddenly the booger burst into flame and disapeared in a puff of white ash. Lucifer casually brushed the ash away. "I'm trying pleasure this time," she said. "I wager most pious souls worship you because they don't know the joy of sinning." "You might be on to something." "When I win, I want you to stop this waste of time. There are problems that need your attention. Your people have suffered enough, God." God sighed as if this weren't the first time they'd had this discussion. "And what do I get if I win?" "I won't bother you again for a century. I'll let you go back to," Lucifer waved her hand in disgust, "whatever this is." "Done," God said. He spat into His palm and held out His hand. Lucifer looked at it expressionless. She reached to her side and pulled out a manilla folder, plopping it in front of God. "My staff has already done the groundwork. All we need is your approval for the final steps." God opened the folder and began to read. Suddenly, He stopped, raising a single eyebrow. "Beige?" He asked. Lucifer shrugged. "New intern. She isn't working out." God nodded and scratched His divine testicles. "She's acceptable." He handed the folder back to Lucifer. One more thing," she said. "I want to change her. She's proportioned like a stick with a libido to match." God snorted. "That alone could make this whole thing worth it," He said. He waved her away. "Now get of here. I've got important business to take care of." The T.V. guide appeared in His hands. Lucifer bowed and slipped away, walking with undisguised eagerness to her car. God sat in His chair for a long time, staring at the traffic passing on the street. Suddenly He threw the magazine across the cafe and got to His feet, exhaling in frustration. In a puff of smoke, He vanished. [[A Journey of a Thousand Miles]]

$firstname blinked in surprise as she passed her reflection. The girl looking back at her was... different. $firstname remembered a scraggly haired, flat chested girl with an eye pointed in the wrong direction. Today that eye lay perfectly in line with its other. Little A cup breasts rose off her chest, and she hefted them, marveling at their newfound sensitivity. She pushed a strand of brown hair off her cheek and inhaled suddenly at its smoothness. $firstname's hair had always frizzy-- clumped and tangled and matted together in dreads like she was some kind of filthy hippy. Today, though, it lay almost straight. Surely nobody could call it sleek, but she could run her hand through it without feeling like she was tearing out half her scalp. But it wasn't her suddenly straight hair or properly oriented eye that shocked her most. Overnight, $firstname had dropped nearly fifteen pounds; her pot belly shrunk to a small paunch-- almost cute in its own way. $firstname had never carried her weight well. Excess always went straight to her gut, avoiding the rest of her like it was diseased. But things were different now. Her arms, once bone thin, now held a small amount of muscle, and her ass curved-- it curved! Only slightly, but still she had a curve! $firstname smiled. Even her teeth seemed whiter. Was this puberty? A strange yearning grew within her. It was powerful and needy, and it made her feel empty. She shook her head, but the desire for... something remained. She turned to her wardrobe. <> <<if $day == 2>> [[To School!]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[School]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Pop Quiz!]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[On the fifth day of slutmas my true love gave to me...]] <</if>> <>

All her life $firstname had been the kind of girl most would describe as 'homely'. She wasn't ugly, but neither was she remarkable. With her small tits, muddled complexion, and stringy brown hair, even she had to admit that no single part of her stood out. It all combined to make a face and body as unique as a drop of water in a vast ocean. Not that she minded so much. Most girls put too much stock in beauty. At least she'd thought so the day before. A strange yearning had grown within her. It was powerful and needy, and $firstname found herself looking with a certain sorrow at her reflection. She imagined what her life would be like if she was prettier; if her hair could cast in waves around her shoulders like some sort of shampoo commercial. She sighed. That wasn't to be her life. Boys' eyes slid off her like eggs on a Teflon pan. That was the way it was meant to be. She turned to her closet. <> <<if $day == 2>> [[To School!]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[School]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Pop Quiz!]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[On the fifth day of slutmas my true love gave to me...]] <</if>> <>

So why not show it off? $firstname threw open her closet and tossed outfit after outfit onto her bed. Nothing seemed right. Even her favorite, an ankle length burlap dress with the word 'Idaho Potatoes' written across the chest, made her recoil in disgust, and just yesterday she'd debated wearing it to school. No, these clothes wouldn't do. A new day called for a new wardrobe. $firstname set to work on the few servicable pieces of her wardrobe. Cutting and sewing cloth from one to the other, soon she had an outfit that didn't make her want to vomit. -- insert description of found picture here-- It was a bit short, much more skimpy compared to her usual standards, but not so much that she would stand out amongst her peers, sinful and decadent as they were. It would do. [[Day 3 Clothes-Slut]]

But no matter how pretty she was or felt, she wouldn't succumb to temptations of the flesh. Vanity was a sin; everything was a sin if you got down to it. $firstname resolved to confess her sin of pointing out things were a sin the next time she got the chance, and then resolved to confess her sin of confessing her sin of pointing out things were a sin. $firstname shook her head to stop the cycle from continuing. She'd have to confess that too. She pulled out her favorite outfit from her closet: an ankle length burlap dress with the words 'Idaho Potatoes' emblazoned across the chest. Was it too daring? $firstname wasn't certain, but she put it on anyway. What's life without a little risk? She didn't know and didn't intend to find out. Risk was sin. Probably. [[Day 3 Clothes-Chaste]]

<<if $bimbo == 1>> $firstname looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. The same homely face she'd always had looked back at her. The same forgettable face. The same shapless body only a drunk man could love. At least fat women had 'curves'. $firstname felt like a refrigerator. "All the easier to keep my vows," she said in an almost sarcastic voice. It wasn't, though. $firstname's pledge of purity was the most important thing in her life. At least she told herself that. But this week had changed... something within her. Her old vows seemed just that, old, and made all the older by her frequent bursts of arousal. They came more often now. It seemed hardly an hour passed before she felt the now familiar tingle of desire. No matter, though. Even if her new needs weren't easy to ignore, they were easy to repress, and they were just another challenge she had to overcome. <<else>> $firstname looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She'd really hoped that her growth spurt would continue. It hadn't, though. Her breasts, little bigger than peaches, were still the same size, and her hips, though flared, were still barely curvier than a slightly crushed box. "All the easier to keep my vows," she said in an almost sarcastic voice. It wasn't, though. $firstname's pledge of purity was the most important thing in her life. At least she told herself that. But this week had changed... something within her. Her old vows seemed just that, old, and made all the older by her frequent bursts of arousal. They came more often now. It seemed hardly an hour passed before she felt the now familiar tingle of desire. No matter, though. Even if her new needs weren't easy to ignore, they were easy to repress, and they were just another challenge she had to overcome. <</if>> <> <<if $day == 2>> [[To School!]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[School]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Pop Quiz!]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[On the fifth day of slutmas my true love gave to me...]] <</if>> <>

<<if $bimbo == 1>>$firstname looked at herself in the mirror and nearly screamed in frustration. How could God curse her with such a forgettable body? She wanted to stand out. She wanted to look like a woman-- to be a woman. Instead here she stood like a stick. If she shrank a foot and put her hair in pigtails she'd be the spitting image of a nine year old girl. She fiddled with the silver purity ring around her finger. The thing felt heavy. It was much heavier than it'd ever felt before. The skin around it was red, chafed and sore. Irritably, she closed her fist and struggled to repress a sudden flare of arousal. The bursts of need, of hunger, were coming more frequently. It seemed she was always at low level burn now, and when it flared it took all of her willpower not to break down and masturbate where she stood. Or to grab a man, any man, and... $firstname shook her head, driving the idea as far from her mind as she could. It lingered on the edge of her thoughts. Images of bodies writhing in sweaty ecstacy floated just beyond her conscious dreams. Gritting her teeth, she turned to her closet. <<else>> $firstname examined her reflection with barely concealed irritation. She'd hoped to grow. Despite knowing how foolish it was to question God's plan, she still lamented the missed opportunity. She'd wanted to be pretty-- prettier. But such thoughts were unbecoming of her. She was a pure, Christian woman, and such changes would only lead to greater temptation. She fiddled with the silver purity ring around her finger. The thing felt heavy. It was much heavier than it'd ever felt before. The skin around it was red, chafed and sore. Irritably, she closed her fist and struggled to repress a sudden flare of arousal. The bursts of need, of hunger, were coming more frequently. It seemed she was always at low level burn now, and when it flared it took all of her willpower not to break down and masturbate where she stood. Or to grab a man, any man, and... $firstname shook her head, driving the idea as far from her mind as she could. It lingered on the edge of her thoughts. Images of bodies writhing in sweaty ecstacy floated just beyond her conscious dreams. Gritting her teeth, she turned to her closet. <</if>> <> <<if $day == 2>> [[To School!]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[School]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Pop Quiz!]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[On the fifth day of slutmas my true love gave to me...]] <</if>> <>

Chestnut hair cascaded around her shoulders in a shimmering wave. She ran her hand slowly through its length, marveling at its softness. Lifting and letting it fall across her back, she sighed and leaned against the bed to admire herself in length. Small mounds of flesh rose proud from her chest. They were larger, much larger than they had been the day before. B cups, she judged. Gently, she ran her hand against their delicate slopes, gasping at the sudden growth of goosebumps that followed her touch. She let them go hesitantly and slid her hand along the flat of her stomach. Only the rise of small lovehandles marked where her fat had been. Most of the weight which hadn't metled off seemed to have migrated to her breasts and butt. Her lips were swollen, too. She couldn't help but run her tongue along them. They felt different-- not wrong, but certainly not hers. A twinge of desire sparked between her thighs. "This might make keeping my vows more difficult," she muttered. This week had changed... something within her. Her old vows seemed just that, old, and made all the older by her frequent bursts of arousal. They came more often now. It seemed hardly an hour passed before she felt the now familiar tingle of desire. No matter, though. Even if her new needs weren't easy to ignore, they were easy to repress, and they were just another challenge she had to overcome. $firstname was good at repressing thing. <> <<if $day == 2>> [[To School!]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[School]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Pop Quiz!]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[On the fifth day of slutmas my true love gave to me...]] <</if>> <>

Small curls rested on $firstname's cheeks and shoulders. They were lighter than they had been the day before, like coffee with a generous dollop of cream. She ran her hands through her curls, admiring the way they caught the light and shone. So soft. So very soft, and $firstname sighed, letting a small smile tug at the edge of her mouth. Her lips puffed out. Not fat, but they drew attention to her face, and she licked them. It felt right to lick them. A sudden urge to paste them in lipstick seized $firstname. She restrained it. Her mother had always said lipstick, with the exception of her own beige color, was the uniform of a whore. "Chastity attracts husbands better than paints and powders," her mother had said after she discovered $firstname coating her cheeks with a can of orange spray paint. //That may be so,// $firstname thought. //But if chastity doesn't work then it might be good to have a back up plan.// She hefted her tits, admiring their newfound weight. C cups, or maybe even D's; a far cry from the flat chested girl she'd been a few days before. Her rosy nipples poked outwards, and when $firstname tried to push them in they greeted her with a burst of mind rending pleasure. "Ok, not for touching," she muttered. She tried to force her hands to her side, but they didn't listen. She pawed at her expansive tits, falling backwards onto her bed with a content sigh. It was just so hard to say 'no' these days. With effort, she tore her hands from her breasts and got off her back. The position just felt so right. The silver purity ring hung heavy on her finger. The skin around it was red, chafed and sore. Irritably, she closed her fist and struggled to repress a sudden flare of arousal. The bursts of need, of hunger, were coming more frequently. It seemed she was always at a low level burn now, and when it flared it took all of her willpower not to break down and masturbate where she stood. Or to grab a man, any man, and... $firstname shook her head, driving the idea as far from her mind as she could. It lingered on the edge of her thoughts. Images of bodies writhing in sweaty ecstacy floated just beyond her conscious dreams. Gritting her teeth, she turned to her closet. <> <<if $day == 2>> [[To School!]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[School]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Pop Quiz!]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[On the fifth day of slutmas my true love gave to me...]] <</if>> <>

Her hair, now a brilliant blonde, circled her shoulders and rippled down her back like a satin wave. Never had she experienced such luxurious curls, and when $firstname carressed them, she couldn't help but marvel at their softness, their smooth feel, and the cool, fresh scent of strawberries they seemed to exude. Her breasts-- no, tits-- had grown again, too, rising perky and firm. Her nipples were hard-- they were always hard these days-- and even the slightest brush of her fingers across their firm surface sent a wave of crippling ecstacy tearing through her. $firstname imagined what they'd looked like just a few days prior, so small and forgettable, but seeing them now in their mouth watering glory, she couldn't help but moan. They were the focal point, the main attraction, and every inch of her roared 'Look at them! Feel them! Make me scream!'. $firstname's knees trembled. She licked her lips. They were so fat, so big, and even a good, Christian girl like her couldn't help but admit they looked made to suck cock. With a flick of her finger, she popped the cap on a nearby tube of lipstick and pasted them in a thick, pink layer. They tingled beneath their coating, adding still more to the furnace that flared between her thighs. $firstname turned around. God had printed above her pert, toned ass, like a brand, the words 'Daddy's Little Girl.' She smiled at the trashy lettering, letting the words imprint themselves deeper and deeper into her mind. <<if $explore == 4>>Below the words, God had also included a handey little tally that seemed to count the number of people she'd fucked. There were only a few marks now, but $firstname found herself wondering how many she could add by the end of the day. <</if>> Everything about her new body screamed 'sex'. It was like she was made for it, engineered to take cock; from the way she juiced at the smallest provocation, to the slight manner her thighs parted every time she tried to close them. $firstname knew she looked like the kind of girl that spent a lot of time on her back. A piece of her liked looking like that kind of girl. She enjoyed the thrill of the boy's stares, knowing their secret desires, their fantasies, all involved her. <> <<if $day == 2>> [[To School!]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[School]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Pop Quiz!]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[On the fifth day of slutmas my true love gave to me...]] <</if>> <>

Double-click this passage to edit it.

[[Day 5 Clothes-Chaste]]

[[Day 4 Clothes-Chaste]]

The red numbers on her bedside clock blinked, reminding her school would begin soon. $firstname threw open her closet and tossed outfit after outfit onto her bed. No two were alike, but they all shared same attribute: skin. Her titilating mass of latex and spandex all served to highlight as much of $firstname's body as possible, and they looked more at home in a club than on a good, Christian like her. But then, $firstname hadn't exactly acted like a good, Christian girl lately. She trembled as the memories of her decadent week tore through her. So much sin. So much lust. She pulled on-- DESCRIPTION OF OUTFIT-- gave herself a wink, and paraded out the door.

Oh Lord, she'd been so naughty these past couple days. The boys, the kissing, and their hands, it all made her tingle to remember. $firstname knew she shouldn't feel this way, but she couldn't help it. Sex. It was so intoxicating. So addicting. She wanted more. But she wasn't going to actually have sex. $firstname wasn't that kind of girl. She just wanted to play with the idea of it. That was where the real thrill was. The hunt. The chase. $firstname liked being prey. No, to have sex before marriage was a sin, but the bible made no mention of her other extracuricular activities. So, if she wanted to be chased, she might as well dress like it, right? To that end, she found a --insert description of day 3 outfit here-- It was far more risque than what she normally wore, but when compared with the rest of her classmates $firstname figured it only made her look kind of easy. Not a slut, but definitely not a prude; which was perfect because 'kind of easy' was exactly what $firstname was going for. She added to her girl next door ensemble with a thin lining of makeup. Again, nothing too extreme, but it never hurt for a girl to highlight her best features, and $firstname had a lot of features to highlight. More and more, $firstname was growing thankful she'd been born a girl. They had so much to show the world. [[Day 4 Clothes-Slut]]

<<if $bimbo == 1>>$firstname hardly spared her reflection a glance as she sidled up to the closet. She knew what she would see; a girl without curves, without angles, a straight line up and down with scraggly hair and eyes slightly crosseyed. No, that wasn't entirely true. She had a curve, and it was her belly-- but only slightly. All the fat and weight she picked up went there. Her arms were bone thin, and her tits were pressed flat like two saggy pancakes. Her butt was like a split in the grain on a plank of wood. $firstname's body disgusted her. And it was made all the worse by the pulsing desire flaring between her thighs. Her lust was constant now; always there. It was like an itch she just couldn't reach, and every thought she had, every waking moment, was devoted to resisting her needs. Just the thought of a boy-- any boy-- walking down the street sent her reeling. She ran her tongue across her lips and trembled at the shivering pleasure it sent rippling down her spine. Her pussy dripped. With ragged breath, $firstname opened her closet. <<else>> $firstname traced the lines of her body before the mirror. //so this is me,// she thought. It was certainly better than what she'd started with before God had begun to make his changes. Back when she was a barely a woman, a girl with a pot belly, an eye that went the wrong direction, and hair that made her think of a bird's nest. She wouldn't stand out, but at least she could look in the mirror without feeling like she should cover herself with a paper bag. Desire flared between her thighs. Her lust was constant now; always there. It was like an itch she just couldn't reach, and every thought she had, every waking moment, was devoted to resisting her needs. Just the thought of a boy-- any boy-- walking down the street sent her reeling. She ran her tongue across her lips and trembled at the shivering pleasure it sent rippling down her spine. Her pussy dripped. With ragged breath, $firstname opened her closet. <</if>> <> <<if $day == 2>> [[To School!]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[School]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Pop Quiz!]] <<elseif $day == 5>> [[On the fifth day of slutmas my true love gave to me...]] <</if>> <>

With reluctance, $firstname rose from her bed and went to her wardrobe. Her fingers were a good apetizer, but $firstname knew from experience that to truly satisfy her need she had to put her lips on a cock. Any cock. But how to attract one? Something trashy, sure, but she didn't want to go too far. $firstname was a virgin, afterall, not a slut, and as long as she kept her legs closed that was what she would remain. It didn't matter if she guzzled cum by the pint, just so long as no devil stick defiled her sin cave. It was getting hard to keep them out, though. Boys could be so... insistant. To that end, she wore a :Description of Clothes: A thick lining of makeup completed the look. $firstname gave her reflection a kiss and strutted out the door. [[Day 5 Clothes-Slut]]

Beginning day three, Chelsie's father is sober enough to notice the changes that are happening within his daughter. If certain conditions are met, he begins to punish her. At the same time Chelsie's mother begins to draw closer to the house. Day 3: Spanking. Chelsie is criticized for her dress if she is successful with the mall visit. Her father calls her a whore and says no daughter of his was going to wear clothes like that. He grabs her and throws her over his knee, spanking her bottom red. In the process he knocks the phone off its hook. Day 4: Blow job? I'll cover this as we get closer to day four. Day 5: $firstname's father and mother are due to meet again for the first time in eight months. $firstname comes home late or something due to detention or something else. If all days of detention happen then this scene procs. Her father, so enraged by his daughter's blatant whorishness, throws her down and fucks her senseless. $firstname loves it. She screams for more, wrapping her legs around her sire.

With an obviously fake yawn, Charlie wrapped his arm around $firstname's shoulder. She sighed and snuggled up against him as the theater around them dimmed. The movie began, lighting up their fellow theater goers in flashes of light. First dark, then light, then dark again. The movie itself was some sappy rom-com about a gas station clerk that was secretly a billionaire who falls in love with a normal girl when her car broke down in his lot. $firstname knew how the movie would go. The couple would meet, they'd fall in love but not admit it, she'd find out he was secretly a billionaire and forbid him from seeing her, and he'd park a private jet or some shit on her lawn and confess his love, probably in the rain. $firstname wasn't watching the movie for the plot. She was watching it because Charlie wanted to. To be honest, $firstname felt trapped. She would've much rather have spent the evening in Charlie's car, fucking the boy for all he was worth. $firstname reached over and rubbed at Charlie's crotch. Maybe if she stimulated him enough they could leave early. Charlie frowned at her. He moved her hand away from his crotch with a firm yet gentle grasp. "Not now," he said. "I'm watching this." $firstname crossed her arms and pouted back into her seat. What kind of man didn't respond instantly when his girlfriend asked him for sex? Maybe Charlie was gay? $firstname liked him, she really did, but damn was she horny. She tried again, rubbing Charlie's arm this time. $firstname wrapped her fingers in his hair and pressed her lips to his, pouring all of her lust, her desire, her need into that kiss. She reached again for his crotch. Charlie pushed her away. He frowned at her, as if it were $firstname who was in the wrong and not the other way around. "I told you, I'm not in the mood right now." $firstname fell back into her chair with a hrumph. Christ she was horny, and the terrible movie made it worse. "I have fifty-seven accountants," the billionaire on the screen said. "But not one of them could account for love." $firstname groaned in disgust. One of the people in the audience stood and began to walk down the aisle. He was tall and handsome, and as he passed $firstname he caught her eye and smiled. Her heart fluttered. //He's cute,// she thought. The strange man stopped at the theater's exit, still holding her eye, and waved for $firstname to follow. $firstname glanced at Charlie. His eyes were still glued to the character's on the screen. Every so often he'd take a buttery handful of popcorn and stuff it in his mouth. He hadn't seemed to notice the man or the leer he'd given $firstname. "I have to go to the bathroom," $firstname said. Charlie grunted. "It's number two, so it'll probably be awhile." Charlie grunted again. "Do you want me to get anything from the snack bar?" "Pepsi," Charlie said with another grunt. He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth. $firstname rose and threaded her way down the long aisle of chairs and out the door the man had gone. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Why was she doing this? Why did she want this man so bad? The theater door shut behind her with a silent woosh. There he was. The man from the theater leaned casually against the wall next to the men's room, a soft smile lighting his lips. He met her eye and smiled wider. Without a word, he went inside the bathroom. $firstname stood at the entrance to the restroom, her heart pounding. Did she really want to do this? Did she really want to cheat on Charlie again? A sudden surge of blood to $firstname's pussy decided it for her. With a gulp, she followed the man inside. --Ten Years Later-- $firstname stretched, luxuriating at the feel of the silk sheets against her skin. They were so soft, so clean, and $firstname couldn't help but smile. She held her diamond wedding ring above her. It shimmered in the morning light. "I have a meeting in Hong Kong this afternoon," Charlie said while buttoning up his shirt. He opened the top drawer on the chest in front of him and frowned at the selection of ties. "I don't think it'll go long, but if it does then I'll probably spend the weekend there before flying back Monday." Charlie decided on a tie he liked. He stepped in front of the mirror and began to knot it around his neck. "Will you be ok while I'm gone?" $firstname got up from the bed. She let the comforter slide sensually off her skin, baring the upper swell of one of her tits. She'd got them done just a few months back, but already she was thinking about going a size larger. She sidled up to Charlie and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "The whole weekend?" she said with a pout. "But you know how bored I get when you're not here. How will I ever keep myself entertained?" Charlie rolled his eyes. He reached into his pants and pulled out his wallet. Sliding a rectangle of plastic out, he held it up. $firstname snatched it eagerly. "Don't go overboard," he said. "We're running out of places to keep your shoes." $firstname giggled and let herself fall back into the silk sheets with a bounce. She held the credit card above her and grinned. It was black with raised gold letters. The name of Charlie's tech company lay printed down in the corner. Charlie finished with the tie and picked up his briefcase, striding to the door. "Send me off with a kiss?" $firstname sighed and got up, dragging herself over to him. He could be so needy sometimes. She gave him a quick peck on the lips and a wan smile as he strode out the door. She watched him climb into his car and peel out their long driveway. When $firstname was certain Charlie was gone, she smiled and leaped into her bed, landing with a bounce. She'd go shopping later, but first... $firstname picked up her cellphone from the nightstand and dialed a number. "Yeah, he's gone," she said. "Yeah, the whole weekend. You have a what for me? Mmm, well hurry over here cutey." $firstname stuck her finger in her mouth and bit her lip. "Of course your friends can come." [[The End]]

With an obviously fake yawn, Charlie wrapped his arm around $firstname's shoulder. She sighed and snuggled up against him as the theater around them dimmed. The movie began, lighting up their fellow theater goers in flashes of light. First dark, then light, then dark again. The movie itself was some sappy rom-com about a gas station clerk that was secretly a billionaire who falls in love with a normal girl when her car breaks down in his lot. $firstname knew how the movie would go. The couple would meet, they'd fall in love but not admit it, she'd find out he was secretly a billionaire and swear to never seem him again, and he'd park a private jet or some shit on her lawn and make some stupid speech, probably in the rain. $firstname smiled and snuggled up against Charlie. The movie was terrible, but that didn't matter. It was enough that she was with him. Charlie comforted her, left her feeling warm and safe. "I have fifty-seven accountants," the billionaire on the screen said. "But not one of them could account for love." $firstname awwed along with the rest of audience. It was a stupid and sappy line, but it suited her mood: stupid and sappy. A muscular looking man got up from one of the rows in front of her and shot her a smile. He was kind of cute, though $firstname didn't really care much for that kind of thing anymore. Charlie was all the man she needed. She closed her eyes and let herself relax. --Ten Years Later-- "I have a surprise for you," $firstname said. She held her arms behind her back, standing at the doorway to the bathroom. Her silk robe hung loose on her frame. She danced from foot to foot, eager to reveal her secret. "Is it a tube of Pringles?" Charlie said. He opened the top drawer on his dresser and began sorting through ties. $firstname wrinkled her nose. "No. Why would I get you pringles?" Charlie selected a tie. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped in front of the mirror to put it on. "They're good? Are you too good for pringles now? What did the pringles do to you, $firstname? What did the chips do?!" He finished with his tie and turned to her with a playful smile on his lips. $firstname sidled up to him. She leaned close to his ear. "I'm pregnant," she whispered. From behind her back she pulled out the test with the big old plus sign on it. Charlie's smile broke into a wide grin. He grabbed $firstname by the waist in a tight embrace, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. "That's fantastic! I'm going to be a father!" He laughed, spinning her faster and faster. "Is it a boy? A girl?" $firstname laughed and held up a hand to stop him. "It's only been a month," she said. "They can't tell the sex yet." Charlie set her down on the ground. He leaned close and pressed his lips to hers. "I love you." $firstname only blushed. How was it that he still could make her do that? "I love you too," she said. [[The End]]

$firstname stumbled through her front door. Some boys she'd met on her way home from school had coated her in a thick layer of cum, leaving her pussy burning. They'd stolen her panties, too. Or maybe she'd given her panties to them? $firstname couldn't be certain. Much of her memory was hazy these days. $firstname licked her lips and savored the taste of seed. She didn't know the men she'd met, but that didn't seem to matter. $firstname had sucked their cocks, and $firstname had liked it. "And what, young lady, have you been up to?" her father said. He sat on the couch, sipping slowly from a glass half filled with scotch. His eyes were icy, and his tone promised danger. A burp escaped $firstname throat. It tasted like cum. She giggled and fell against the front door, sliding down the floor with her legs parted. She slid a pair of fingers between her thighs and began to rub. "I've been a bad girl, daddy. I need to be punished," $firstname said. Her thighs felt slick and wet, lubricated by her juices. Her father threw his scotch glass against the wall. It landed in a shattering crash, spraying glass and alcohol across the floor. In two steps, he strode across the room to grab $firstname by the throat, lifting her into the air. With another burst of strength, he tossed $firstname over the coffee table, pinning her by the neck in place. "My daughter's a whore! A whore!" her father roared. He unbuckled his belt. "I'm going to beat the slut out of you!" A slap echoed through the house. $firstname moaned. Another slap, and $firstname moaned again. "Yes, daddy! Punish me harder! Punish daddy's little slut!" she moaned. "Oh, I'll punish you. I'm going to make you scream!" Her father said. He fiddled with his belt, pulling out cock. Pressing it against her entrance, he shoved. "Scream, whore! Scream!" $firstname screamed. She pressed back against her father's cock, shoving it deeper and deeper inside herself. Her eyes rolled white and her voice came out in a long moan. Even as sore and used as she was, $firstname still relished the feel of his cock as it slid inside her-- its path lubricated by the cum poured inside her by countless other boys. "Stupid, fucking, whore. Just like your mother!" her father grunted inbetween thrusts. He increased his pace, thrust inside with a wet schlick. "I'm a whore! I'm daddy's little slut!" Her father roared, thrusting inside her a final time. He twitched, adding his cum to the rest. Then he collapsed to the side. Sweat poured off him in long beads. Slowly, her father rose and wandered off to the kitchen. $firstname heard the sound of ice on glass, the shattering of another cup, and then more ice on glass. She rose and watched from the doorway as he downed a bottle of scotch. $firstname gathered a drop of missed cum and shoved it inside her mouth and smiled. Her father had been best she'd had all day. Maybe he'd be willing to give her another pounding soon... though $firstname doubted it. $firstname turned and went up the stairs to her room. <<set $charliecheat = 1>> It was no matter. She'd find somebody else to play with again soon. <> <<if $explore == 4>> [[End|Slut Party]] <</if>> <<if $model == 4>> [[End|Bimbo Party]] <</if>> <<if $charliedate == 1>> <<if $charliecheat == 1>> [[End|Charlie Cheat]] <<elseif $charliecheat == 0>> [[End|Charlie Faithful]] <</if>> <</if>> <<if $pray == 4>> [[End|Prayer Party]] <</if>> <<if $allfail == 0>> [[End|Lonely Party]] <</if>> <>

I need pictures that characterise Chelsea's change as a person. The pieces I want to include: There needs to be four thresholds for each of the two man stats: Bimbo and slut, which means I need 16 pictures. Bimbo includes Chelsea's physical transformations. Slut is the girl's clothing transformations. I need seventeen pictures. Sixteen for the original table, and one for the original character avatar.

$firstname's father paced across the carpet. He moved with great, steady strides, eating up half the room in a single step, coming to a wall, pivoting, and striding back from whence he came. She feared he might wear a hole in the carpet if he kept going the way he was. A beige corded phone, another relic from her mother, sat in the middle of the room like a monument. Her father shot it a glare each time he passed. He was in the grip of one of his rages. Her father got like that from time to time, usually when things weren't going well at work, or when the Jehova's Witnesses came by. "Why won't she call?" he muttered to himself, his eyes locked on the phone. "She said she'd call today." A beer dangled half drunk from between his fingers. An empty box sticking out of the recycling said it wasn't his first. "Who's going to call, Daddy?" $firstname said, a bit hesitant. If he really was in a foul mood then it wasn't smart to interrupt him. Then again, it wasn't smart to startle him either, and crossing the living room to get to the stairs would certainly do that. It was a no win situation. $firstname hated no win situations. When her father turned to look on $firstname, the hardness in eyes seemed melt away. The lines in his cheeks softened. He smiled a wide, soft smile. "Oh sweety, when everything in my life seems to erode around me, seeing you helps me keep true," he said. Her father opened his arms, embracing her in a hug that forced the air from $firstname's lungs with a squeek. $firstname liked this side of him. It reminded her of days that seemed long gone, of his good side. Her father had a good side deep down, beneath the drink and the rage. $firstname was just glad she could still bring it out. "Who's going to call, Daddy?" $firstname repeated when he let her go. "Your mother," he answered. "She sent me a text today saying she wanted to talk, that she wasn't happy with how we left things." $firstname heart skipped a beat. Her mother had contact him? That was the first time they'd heard from her in over six months. She'd been silent ever since she'd abandoned them to go 'Do something with beige'. "Are you two getting back together? Is Mom coming home?!" $firstname said, barely containing her excitement. Maybe if she came home everything could go back to normal. $firstname's father laughed. It was booming and deep. He placed a great hand on her head and ruffled her hair. "Hold on now, you know as much as I do. Let's just take it slow and trust in God to see us through, alright?" "Don't put responsibility on me!" God said. "I don't want that shit!" $firstname ignored Him. She was too excited. "Can I wait here with you? I want to be here when the phone rings." The phone rang. The two of them looked at for a moment, disbelief on their faces. Her father patted $firstname on the back. "Go upstairs," he said, swallowing with what looked like difficulty. "I don't want to put too much pressure on her. This first time needs to be just the two of us." With reluctance, $firstname went to the stairs and began to climb. Before she entered her room, though, she heard her father pick up the phone. "Hello?" he said. [[Night 3]]

The driveway was empty when $firstname arrived home. That was a good thing. Her father had sent her a text earlier saying he was planning to meet up with her mother tonight. $firstname hoped things would work out. They had to work out. "No they don't," God said. "Life is full of random bullshit, and sometimes even my divine plan gets thrown to the wind. Honestly, that's half the fun." But that meant that there was a plan, and $firstname's parents were part of it. That thought comforted her, though she had to squelch the unease that knowing God, by His own admission, didn't have complete control over every little thing in the universe stirred within her. Maybe He wasn't omnipotent? Or maybe He chose not to be? But then that would be standing passively by while allowing evil, and that would make God cruel, which He obviously couldn't be since He was supreme good. $firstname shook her head. These were dangerous thoughts. In the background of her mind, God chortled to himself. $firstname went into her dark home and climbed the stairs to her room. If God was kind, her father wouldn't come home tonight. [[Night 4]]

$firstname's father stood in front of the mirror next to the front door straightening his tie. His suit was pristine. He'd ironed it, donned his best beige dress shirt, and even polished his watch. He looked more like a man going to a particularly boring job interview than one about to meet his wife of almost twenty years. $firstname didn't care. Her father could look as boring as he wanted to, provided he brought her mother back. "And what time do you go to bed tonight?" he said. It was less of a question and more of an order. $firstname sighed. "Early," she muttered. "But what if I want to wait up? Can't I see her today?" Her father shook his head. "Your mother is still skittish, but we're making progress. Six months is a long time for her to be gone. We have to rebuild our relationship from the ground up, and I'm worried that if I present her with too much responsibility too early she'll disapear again." $firstname frowned at his tie. Beige was such an ugly color. It made her father look like one of those copiers all the secretaries in the principal's office stood around drinking coffee and eating pastries-- pastries they never shared with $firstname when she came in. Her father caught her frown in the mirror. "Don't be like that," he said. "I want answers as much as you do, but right now we need to move slow. Trust me, you'll see her soon." He smiled one of his wide smiles. There wasn't a hint of alcohol on his breath. "Alright," $firstname said finally. "That's a good girl," her father said. "Now don't stay up late and turn the lights out before you go to bed." With that, he strolled out the door and to his car. $firstname watched it pull out of the driveway and down the block. Though her heart pounded in her chest, somehow $firstname knew that everything was going to turn out alright. <> <<if $explore == 4>> [[End|Slut Party]] <</if>> <<if $model == 4>> [[End|Bimbo Party]] <</if>> <<if $charliedate == 1>> <<if $charliecheat == 1>> [[End|Charlie Cheat]] <<elseif $charliecheat == 0>> [[End|Charlie Faithful]] <</if>> <</if>> <<if $pray == 4>> [[End|Prayer Party]] <</if>> <<if $allfail == 0>> [[End|Lonely Party]] <</if>> <>

<> <<if $transformed == 1>> <<if $slut lte 2>> <<set $bimbo = 1>> <<if $day == 1>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 2>> <<if $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> <<if $day == 1>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 3>> <<if $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> <<if $day == 1>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Tits]] <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Tits]] <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 4>> <<if $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> <<if $day == 1>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 2 Same]] <<elseif $day == 2>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 3 Same]] <<elseif $day == 3>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 4 Same]] <<elseif $day == 4>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> [[Mirror Mirror On the Wall...|Day 5 Same]] <</if>> <</if>> <>

<<set $day = 3>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $slut = 7>> <<set $transformed = 2>> [[Test Code]]

<<if $bimbo == 1>> <img src="http://66.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lu5yfeVKff1qblw13o1_500.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <<elseif $bimbo == 2>> <img src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/0d/d2/a0/0dd2a062f8e4cd0ad306ab416ff6b084.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <<elseif $bimbo == 3>> <img src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SMrJDrQN7gA/VUZtrvrh8WI/AAAAAAAAgHQ/iY3wNOKTwEU/s1600/20.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <<elseif $bimbo == 4>> <img src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d0/f8/e6/d0f8e6eb029d95dfb7924a9371e06c1b.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <<elseif $bimbo == 5>> <img src="http://vipdevki.tv/uploadimg/09_14/02/vipdevki_net_xhnljtjpll.jpg" height="275" width="190"> <</if>> Explore: $explore Model: $model Pray: $pray Day: $day <<if $namenumber gte 5>> [[Chelsea Bechman]] <<else>> [[Churchey Bochman]] <</if>>

<<if $transformed == 1>> <<if $slut lte 2>> <<set $bimbo = 1>> Stagnant Text 1 <<elseif $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> Transformation Text 2 <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> Transformation Text 4 <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 2>> <<if $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> Stagnant Text 2 <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> Transformation Text 4 <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 3>> <<if $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> Stagnant Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> Transformation Text 4 <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 4>> <<if $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> Stagnant Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> Transformation Text 4 <</if>> <</if>>

<<if $transformed == 1>> <<if $slut lte 2>> <<set $bimbo = 1>> Stagnant Text 1 <<elseif $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> Transformation Text 2 <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> Transformation Text 4 <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 2>> <<if $slut lte 7>> <<set $bimbo = 2>> <<set $transformed = 2>> Stagnant Text 2 <<elseif $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> Transformation Text 4 <</if>> <<elseif $transformed == 3>> <<if $slut lte 14>> <<set $bimbo = 3>> <<set $transformed = 3>> Stagnant Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> Transformation Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> Transformation Text 4 <<elseif $transformed == 4>> <<if $slut lte 18>> <<set $bimbo = 4>> <<set $transformed = 4>> Stagnant Text 3 <<elseif $slut lte 35>> <<set $bimbo = 5>> <<set $transformed = 5>> Transformation Text 4 <</if>> <</if>>

Good Day! Quill here. Thank you for playing the game, and I hope you enjoyed working your way through it as much as I enjoyed making it. Only the Good Die Young began as a CYOA on the 8chan Storytiem board under the title Repression Quest. You can still find the original writing there. I only mention this for my own sentimental reasons. Heaven knows the work I did there was shit, but it was fun shit, y'know? I like to remember where ideas came from, and how stories evolve over time. It's fun for me to look back and see how the original kernals of thought manifested themselves and became so intrinsic to Chelsea Bechman's story. She's a real person to me now. Whether I like it or not, I put a piece of myself into this story, and distorted though the piece might be, this Twine game serves as a kind of snapshot of my mind through 2016. Some of it's stupid, a lot of it's bad, but the process of creating it has helped me grow as a person and as a writer. "But Quill," some stupid voice inside me says while I write this. "This is just porn. Get over yourself." And to that I say fuck you little voice. I spent almost a year hammering this thing into something that almost resembles a coherant story. I think I'm entitled to a bit of pretentiousness. Anyway, if you enjoyed this little tale then I ask that you help me out by donating enough cash so I can buy a beer. My liver might hate you for it, but then again, God invented college kids and motorcycles for a reason. [[Sure, Quill! I'll buy you a beer.|https://patreon.com/user?u=4374235]] [[Sorry, Quill. Not today. I'm just here to fap]]

That's alright. Thank you for playing. It means the world to me that you took the time to work through something I made. Would you like to play again? [[Prologue]]