True Mind Control
Note: The Casey story villainess has undefined powers, and she’s an incorrigible liar, so it’s hard to say what she can and cannot do.
I
Karen plopped her purse and her bags onto seat of the bench at the booth in in the food court, frowning at the broken red vinyl exposing the white fluff of the cushion between the jagged cracks running along the length of the bench. Despite the coolness of the mall air conditioning and the billowing skirt she wore with its pleats falling to mid-thigh, Karen felt sweaty, sticky, and uncomfortable.
Sweat beaded and dripped from her forehead, and her eyes burned at the salt.
She wiped her eyes with a tissue she found at the bottom of her purse.
She used to back of her toes on one foot to push the heal of her flat brown sandals off her other foot, then she repeated the movement.
She sighed at her feet relieved even of that minor pressure.
The cushion beside her shook, and Karen spun rapidly around to glare at whoever it was that had sat so close to her in such a huge food court, almost entirely devoid of occupants.
Fewer and fewer people went to the mall these days, she realized.
Her glare died, warming to a smile despite herself to see the stranger who’d sat down beside her.
Such a cute little thing, she couldn’t be much more than eighteen, bright green eyes, short red-brown hair, freckles sprinkled on her rosy round cheeks, lips full and delicate, doll-like in their pink-lipstick, pursed smile, long lashes that might have been false they were so black and long, warm glowing eyeshadow above her eyes. She wore just about the shortest skirt Karen had even seen on girl, red sneakers with dark socks, and a light pink t-shirt, exposing the dimple of a belly button on her midriff, short petals just extending past her shoulders, and a fine silver necklace, tight around her neck like a choker, with two joined hearts hanging in the middle, just below her throat.
“I’m sorry, do I—?” Karen started to ask, but the girl cut her off.
“Don’t speak. Not yet.”
Karen’s mouth hung open, and her glare returned, but no clear words emerged from her.
“Huh, huh, huh,” she grunted vaguely, trying to use words, but the girl held a finger to Karen’s bottom lips and smiled.
“No,” she said, “complete silence. Not even a grunt or a groan until I say otherwise.”
She winked at Karen.
“If I say otherwise.”
II
The new girl looked Karen up and down, narrowing her eyes as if not altogether pleased with her companion.
“It feels better to take off your shoes, doesn’t it? I bet it would feel really good to take off your panties.”
Karen cast a frightened look at her interlocuter.
Spit drooled from the bottom lip of her open mouth, falling from her chin onto her sternum, between her breasts, large full C cups, exposed subtly by her top two unfastened buttons of her pale blue blouse.
The girl bobbed her head up and down rapidly and smiled encouragingly at Karen.
“Well go on. Take off your panties and hand them to me.”
This whole time, Karen’s mind had raced inside her skull, her heart beat loudly and frantically behind her ribs, and her lips trembled. She tried desperately to speak, but somehow her words wouldn’t come from her mouth, although her mind spun with things to tell the mysterious teenager.
Panic seized her, that momentary panic before fight-or-flight.
But here she could do nothing, and in that impotence, every brain cell screamed at her to take control of the situation, to wrest control from the demonic teenager smiling at her and ordering her to remove her panties.
In the mall.
In the food court of the mall.
And she could do nothing.
Inexplicably, unreasonably, impossibly she could nothing.
Except silently scream in terror as her heart beat so hardly inside her rib cage she thought it would burst from her chest.
This last order though.
And that’s what it was, wasn’t it?
An order.
Somehow Karen knew she had to follow the instructions given her, to obey what the girl in the pink shirt told her. Whatever it was.
As much as her mind resisted, it was overwhelmed by the need to yield to the words coming from the mouth of the adorable monster facing her.
And that thought shot more terror through her, a sharp cold thrill of terror through her spine. Goosebumps bubbled on the trembling skin of her arms.
“I’m waiting,” the girl said.
But Karen gathered all her energy, all her mental strength, forced her words to burst from her mouth, to shout, to scream if need be.
She held her hands tight to the edge of the table, refusing to move them, even though every nerve, every impulse, every thought and desire told her, no, demanded her to slip her hand below her skirt, hook her thumbs through her panties waistband, and slide them down her legs.
“No,” she yelled, but the yell squeaked from her throat in a whispering rasp.
Instantly pain tore through her head, sharp and brutal, like hundreds of old windows falling on all ten of her fingers and thumbs at once. She collapsed against the table in front of her, leaning over it in agony.
She stuck her hands under her armpits and squeezed tightly, trying to soothe a pain that couldn’t possibly exist.
Her forehead fell on the tabletop with a hard loud thud, but no one in the food court looked up or seemed to notice.
But the girl slid to Karen’s side, rubbing her back and shoulders with a gentle concern.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she kept repeating. “It really is, but you’ve got to obey me. The pain will go away if you just obey me.”
The flat of one side of Karen’s face, turned towards her visitor, was pressed against the tabletop, drool pooled from her open mouth, and her glazed and eyes stared without focus at her tormentor.
“But how? How are you?”
“Don’t worry about that. Take off your panties. You don’t wear panties anymore. You hate them.”
Karen’s hands flew to her panties, and with one quick movement she tore them away from her hips, sliding the down her legs and pulling them off to give to the girl at her side.
Immediately the pain subsided.
“After all, you’re going to be having your hand up your cunt most of the time anyway.”
The girl brought Karen’s peach-colored underwear to her nose and breathed deeply.
“Oh, heavens, you do smell nice,” she said to Karen. “I’m Casey by the way. I’m going to be fucking your mind for quite some time. At least for today. Quite possibly the whole week.”
III
Karen slowly sat up, regaining something of her composure.
“You won’t be the same, of course. Not after I’m through with you. I’m going to scramble that brain of yours so hardcore. Go ahead and use that right hand to fuck yourself. Stick two, no three fingers into your hot little pussy. Go ahead. It’s not really up to you anyway.”
Karen had no more energy to resist the compulsion.
The searing pain had exhausted her as well as the strain on her mind.
Quite simply she had no mental wherewithal to resist, and her right hand, rather absent-mindedly, dropped to her lap, pulled her skirt high, and slipped under her clothes to go into her pussy.
She stuck two fingers into her pussy.
Then she added the third.
Karen winced at the sudden intrusion.
“Look at me,” Casey said.
Karen looked at Casey.
“Are you wet?”
Karen shook her head.
No, she wasn’t wet.
“Yes you are,” Casey said, her voice brooking no contradiction. “You’re so wet. It turns you on so much to be fucking yourself in public. You love to come here just to finger your sloppy wet hole. God, you’re such a whore. You’re so wet, aren’t you?”
Karen shook her head.
No.
She couldn’t be.
Nothing this strange girl said made sense or was true or could be true.
It couldn’t be true.
But her fingers, one finger, two fingers, three fingers, started to slide easily into her vagina, slick and slippery with her juices that were so suddenly and wildly flowing.
“I can’t explain it, but it’s true. I control your body. Your body listens to my voice; it does what I say. So you see, you have free will. It just doesn’t matter.”
Karen continued pounding her fingers into her sopping, soaked cunt; her juices formed a small pool in her thighs and trickled down her bare skin onto her seat.
She’d never been so wet before.
She’d never done anything like this before.
This sort of thing just wasn’t done.
“I wish I could make the fear go away,” Casey said. “But that’s all you. One day, maybe, I’ll get advanced enough to control your emotional response, even your very thoughts, but for now. Your body will do fine.”
Casey’s eyes swept over Karen’s body.
“Your body will do very fine.”
IV
Karen walked in front of Casey, her blouse unbuttoned completed, her bare tits exposed to the mall.
Casey made her leave her bra at her table in the food court.
Along with her purse and packages.
“You won’t be wearing bras anymore, honey. You really won’t.”
No one bothered them, even though everyone saw her.
No one said anything, which made Karen want to scream.
But of course she couldn’t scream.
She couldn’t speak.
She couldn’t even make a noise.
Casey told her not to.
Casey pushed open the door to the restroom and gestured for Karen to enter.
“Go into the farthest stall,” she said.
Karen’s mind continued to scream and weep; she begged for a mercy she knew would not arrive, and she pleaded for a release that would not be granted.
“Just let me go, just let me go,” her mind begged, but no words escaped her throat.
Karen stumbled towards the farthest stall and entered it, followed closely by Casey.
“You won’t need to take off your skirt, now that you’re not wearing panties. You’re going to go to the bathroom. But not in the toilet. Squat down and pee on the floor, Karen. Be a good girl and pee on the floor for me. When you’re finished, I’m going to make you lick it up.”
No.
She can’t make me do that.
I don’t care how much it hurts, I’m not going to do that.
Casey walked to the toilet bowl, pulled down her mini-skirt and bright red panties, and emptied her bladder.
“Go on,” she nodded encouragingly, “You can do it, um. What’s your name? Tell me your name.”
“Karen. Karen Blakeney.”
Karen didn’t want to tell her. But she couldn’t resist.
Her mind continued to scream, to yell at her, to pound against the walls of her brain, but Karen just stood there, refusing to obey Casey’s command to urinate on the floor.
“Go on, you can do it, Karen. You have to.”
Karen resisted the almost overpowering need to obey.
“Pull your panties aside, you don’t have to take them off. I want your clothes covered in your piss.”
Karen’s legs bent partially, but she caught herself.
Suddenly her body flinched and tightened as that pain returned, stronger that before, every bone and joint in the body shrieked and howled in agony, and Karen screamed.
“Hush,” Casey said. “Don’t make a sound.”
Instantly the screaming stopped, and Karen fell to the floor writhing in agony. But she wouldn’t do it. The hounds of hell couldn’t drag her to piss on the floor to lick up her own urine. Surely the pain would fade.
But the pain didn’t fade. If anything it grew in intensity, a thousand car door slamming on her fingers, a hundred hammers cracking her shins, every nail pulled from her toes and fingers. Tears flowed from Karen’s eyes, and her mouth opened, gaping in a silent scream as more and more pain wracked her body.
Casey stood up from the toilet and squatted beside Karen’s sweating and jerking head. She caressed the woman’s hot and sticky forehead.
“Just end this, Karen. You can feel so good, if you want. I can make you feel so happy, so wonderful. All you have to do is obey. Just obey me and put away all this terrible pain. All this horrible, cruel pain. You don’t need it. You don’t need to feel it. Just obey me and set yourself free.”
Too much. The pain was too much. Anything, anything would be better than that. Karen writhed and grimaced on floor, shrieking silently as new waves of torment caressed her nerves, burning her from the inside out.
Karen nodded her head through the pain.
And the pain stopped.
“Good girl,” Casey said. “I knew you could do it. I knew you could really get into the idea of licking your own piss of a dirty restroom floor.”
Casey held Karen’s face in her two hands, forcing the woman to look her in the eyes.
“Do you really want to do this? Are you excited about it? Are you looking forward to it? You are, aren’t you? Say you do. Nod if you do.”
Karen started to shake her head, but another spasm of pain flashed momentarily.
She stopped, and the pain stopped.
Karen wanted to shake her head, but the memory of the pain seconds ago told her not to resist anymore; whatever the cost to her pride, she’d need to obey and let her body do as the demented monster in the form of a sweet girl told it to do. She was in charge of her body now.
Casey owned her body now.
But not her mind.
Casey would never own her mind.
She swallowed and nodded.
Yes, she wanted to do this.
“Good girl,” Casey smiled. “I knew you did.”
Karen crawled off the floor to a squatting position and held her skirt up.
“No. Don’t bother with that. Just go ahead and piss.”
Karen didn’t think she could just do it, on command like that, but to her surprise, piss gushed from her urethra, a torrent spilling onto the concrete floor of the restroom stall, forming a puddle beneath her, soaking her panties and her skirt in urine, the strong odor of which quickly filled the small space.
“That’s so good. Not get down and lick it up. All of it. That’s a good girl. You love the taste of piss, don’t you?”
Karen nodded.
She knew better not to.
And as she was busy licking up her urine from the dirty floor, trying very hard not to throw up or gag, she heard Casey move around, she heard the toilet seat squeak, and then she heard the sound of urine hitting the water of the toilet. A moment later she heard the unmistakable grunt of Casey shitting, and a new horror filled Karen with dread and disgust.
But something else happened while she wiped her tongue against the concrete, a weird pleasure buzzed through her body. She was obeying Casey, she was doing what Casey wanted her to do, and it felt. Good. Right. Proper. And even though her stomach churned, and her throat gagged at what she was doing, she renewed her assault on the floor, almost desperately trying to lick up all her urine.
“When you’re finished, lick me clean,” Casey said, standing up and bending over. “All of me down there. I don’t like the tissue this place uses. It feels like sandpaper and breaks like, like. Like cheap toilet paper.”
Karen lapped up the last of the urine of the floor and shuffled on her knees, grimacing at the discomfort of the hard concrete, towards Casey.
“You’ll have to spread my ass cheeks.”
Casey bent lower, sticking her pussy and ass out to Karen.
Karen inhaled, disgusted, excited.
Nothing in her wanted to do this.
Nothing in her wanted to touch her mouth or touch her tongue or even look at much less smell this horrible girl’s butthole. At this same time her arousal hit heights she’d never even imagined. She was so turned on, so charged up, and she wondered how it was that she had climaxed yet.
She wanted to reach between her legs, her panties and skirt still soaked in her urine, and fuck herself senseless.
But she had to lick Casey clean first.
She stared at the girl’s ass bent in front of her, realizing how cute the girl was, how adorable, such a round, dainty bottom, a little dirty. Yes. But that was to be expected.
“Start with my pussy first, then work your way up. Don’t worry about getting my shit on your nose.”
And with that Karen, having no choice in the matter, her body responding now to every word Casey said, bent forward, spread Casey’s ass with both hands, pressed her face into Casey’s behind, and began licking the urine off Casey’s vulva.
She reveled in the intoxication of it all, the utter filthiness of it all. The degradation.
So many emotions swept through her mind, so many thoughts.
Her first taste of vagina, her first experience of licking another girl’s private parts, another girl’s. Pussy.
A tremor ran through her, but it wasn’t a climax yet.
The taste of it. Tangy. Sweet. Bland. All three together in a weird, very weird mixture that sent bells and whistles of pleasure ringing and shrieking through Karen’s mind, body, and soul.
She was so close now. So close.
And Casey tasted so.
Divine.
She teetered on the verge of an orgasm; she could feel it building inside her, her groin, her center, felt on fire, it burned.
She didn’t worry about the shit, the filth that clung to her nose as she pressed it inside Casey’s crack.
She didn’t worry about it because Casey told her not to.
“That’s good, baby. Now do my ass.”
Karen’s tongue lapped toward Casey’s anal rosebud, reluctantly leaving the region of Casey’s. Pussy.
“I just want to keep licking her pussy,” Karen whined to herself.
“I know. I know you do, baby,” Casey said. “But you gotta lick my asshole now. I really need to feel your tongue on my asshole. Lick me clean. Lick me all the way clean.”
It was all sweaty and tangy and salty down there and there was something else, something awful, but Karen shut her mind to the revulsion, and lapped the sides of Casey’s ass crack, spreading her cheeks with both hands to get her face deep and to be able to lick Casey fully clean.
Then she licked Casey’s asshole, and as soon as her tongue touched Casey’s sphincter, the girl looked behind her and said, “You can cum now, Karen. You can cum hard now, but you have to keep licking my asshole.”
Karen’s orgasm shattered her, but somehow she kept licking throughout, ramming her face against Casey’s asshole as Case slammed back against her, grinding her butt against Karen’s open mouth as the woman moaned, groaned, and shrieked into Casey’s bowels.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Casey huffed. “That feels so good, that feels so good, that feels so fucking good.”
She kept grinding her asshole into Karen’s face in a slow and powerful orgasm.
When Casey collected herself, she stood up, pulled up her skirt, and gestured towards the toilet bowl.
“Go ahead and stick your head in the toilet. I left something for you. Try to get it out with your mouth. No hands! Just like bobbing for apples.”
Karen groaned and retched.
But in the aftershock of her climax, the order and the act seemed insignificant, superfluous. Anti-climactic.
Casey herself looked a little embarrassed.
But she made Karen eat the shit anyway.
And wash her mouth out with the toilet water.
“Good girl,” she said when Karen had finished. “I knew you could do it.”
V
Karen walked behind Casey a dirty, bedraggled mess. Her blouse was torn, soiled, wet, and it hung wide open, showing off her boobs to the world as she walked through the mall and out the doors. Her soaked skirt felt clung to her legs as she walked, grimy, stained with piss.
Her face told the full extent of Casey’s abuse.
What remained of her makeup was smeared and mushed over her face, her hair hung in clumps, wet and filthy, and though she had tried to wash the shit from her mouth with toilet water, bits of feces stuck between her teeth.
But the most astonishing aspect of all this was that Karen marched behind Casey with pride, her head high, a look less of resigned determination than something akin to pride, the kind of pride one feels after accomplishing an unenjoyable, laborious, but ultimately beneficial task.
She could eat poop.
She knew that about herself now.
And drink pee.
I can lick my girl clean.
Casey saw the look in Karen’s eyes. She had no idea what it meant.
VI
In the Karen’s minivan, Casey fielded question after question to her new toy. True mind control eluded her, but she could exact a fair degree of body puppetry. That is to say, she could control the body if the subject didn’t resist, and she could cause a great deal of pain when the subject did resist. She could break down any subject so that they obeyed implicitly and even tried guessing Casey’s intent. But she couldn’t read minds, couldn’t control minds, although she could make a very good guess at the emotional state of her puppets.
The puppets didn’t know this, of course.
They assumed Casey could read their minds, and Casey tried very hard to convey this ability. After a while, it wasn’t hard to guess what went through any given puppets mind, mainly shock, horror, and fear. Embarrassment. Shame.
Karen answered without evasion, and that fascinated Casey. Usually a puppet fought long after resigning themselves to their fate, evading Casey’s questions, being dishonest with her. These were the methods her puppets used to maintain identity, free will, such as it was.
Casey enjoyed breaking them down to pure honesty.
In Karen’s case she didn’t even need to do that.
She had given in so completely, so quickly, had broken so utterly that Casey yawned sitting beside her. This is going to be boring, she thought. She doesn’t even try to put up a fight.
“They live close by. My sister’s older than I am, and she has two daughters. Yes. They’re still in high school. Twins. Linda and Lacey. I don’t know. They might be home. Yes. I can call my sister.”
Casey sighed with contentment.
At least things could get interesting.
Twins.
That was never a bad thing.
Karen’s sister Becky lived in a modest home in a modest neighborhood, a one-story ranch house with attached garage. Karen parked the minivan in the driveway and walked Casey to the front door, surprising the controller by wrapping her arm around her waist before pulling it back and looking away shyly.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
It kind of felt good, Casey thought. Her arm around me. I liked it.
“You’ll pay for that, of course,” she told Karen in an angry voice.
Casey tried catching Karen’s eye, hoping to see a look of panic or fear, but when Karen fleetingly turned in her direction, Casey saw only that weird gleam.
Karen rang the bell, and Linda answered the door wearing a robe. She let it fall open when she saw who had rung. She wore a red bikini.
“Oh hey, Aunt Karen. I didn’t know you were coming by. It’s so,” her voice faltered when she saw the state her aunt was in. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she answered. “Is Lacey here? Is your mom home?”
“Hm hm. We’re all in the back. We just started to lay out. It’s so sunny today.”
She finally seemed to take note of Casey.
“And you are?”
Casey would have taken her time, would have just introduced herself, but Karen flung around her shoulder to draw her close.
“Oh this is Casey. I met her at the mall. She’s been making me do the most horrible things.”
Casey squirmed from beneath Karen’s grasp and tried to play it off, but Linda laughed and said, “Oh, Aunt Karen. C’mon in. I bet Mom has something for you to wear. Y’all are about the same size. You know where her room is. You might want to take a shower too. Do you want me to try to find you something, Casey?”
Casey swallowed.
“Um. Sure. Why not?”
Casey followed the teenage girl down the hall towards her bedroom.
Linda threw her robe on the bed, and Casey watched her go to her chest of drawers, bend over slightly, and sort through her clothes for an extra swimsuit. Casey took the time to appreciate Linda’s body.
Linda’s hair fell in a long straight wave of light brown, almost blond hair, lighter than her aunt’s, but with that same big fullness to it. Her body was long and shapely, round and wide at the hips and bust. Her red bikini bottom covered her upper ass cheeks and left the bottom round curves like half moons exposed. Her top tied around the neck and back.
“Here it is,” Linda said, holding up a small yellow bikini. “I haven’t worn this in ages, but it should fit you. I don’t know why I kept it. It’s much too small for me now.”
She tossed the swimwear to Casey.
“The bathroom’s in the hall. Do you want me to wait for you?”
Casey stared straight into Linda’s eye.
“Take off your top and go to the pool like that.”
Linda’s hands flew to the back of her neck to untie the string.
“What?” she said. “You mean like a dare? Oh god, this is going to be fun.”
Linda untied her bikini top and let it drop the carpet.
Her gorgeous boobs spilled into view.
She didn’t even try to cover them.
Linda clapped her hands.
“You go like this too. Just wear your bottoms. Lacey will be so embarrassed.”
Linda hopped past a stunned Casey.
“Mom too.”
Casey felt stupid just wearing the bottoms, but Karen told her she looked great, and Casey started to relax.
Karen thinks I look good, she thought. So maybe I do.
The two of them were lying on one side of the pool.
Suddenly Casey realized something had gone horribly wrong, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Is something the matter?”
Karen’s question clanged in her ears, pulling the controller out of her unusually introspective mood.
What the fuck do I care what she thinks?
“Shut up,” she said, glaring at Karen. Then she smiled. Everything became crystal clear to her.
She leaned over to whisper in Karen’s ear.
“I’m going to fuck up your sweet little family.”
This time Karen did look alarmed; that stupid, placid, weirdly arrogant expression disappeared from her face in a flash. A fearful, panicked look replaced it.
“Don’t speak. Don’t even whisper. Don’t even make a sound. Just look at what I do. If it makes you horny, just let me know by spreading your pussy and fucking yourself in front of your sister and your sweet, sweet nieces.”
She stood up and sauntered over to Becky and her two daughters, laughing topless in the sun on the other side of the pool. Casey’s tiny ass swayed side to side.
Does she even like me?
The impertinence of the obtrusive question enraged her.
At first Becky was appalled at the sight of her daughter Linda and Casey emerging from the house wearing only their bikini bottoms. She threw a questioning glance at her daughter Lacey, who just shrugged with her jaw dropped open.
“Linda Pearson, what on earth?”
But Linda cut her off.
“Oh grow up, Mom. It’s just us girls. Besides, I don’t like tan lines.”
Casey inspected Linda, wondering whether the girl even noticed Casey’s control.
Sometimes a puppet just assumed, early on, that they themselves initiated the behavior or agreed to it voluntarily.
“But,” Lacey protested.
“Go ahead and try it, you prude,” Linda dared her twin. “Live a little.”
“Lacey Pearson, don’t you even think about it,” Becky warned, but Lacey had already sat up to untie her neck strings. Then she reached around her back and the bikini top, a pale sparkling blue, dropped to the ground, landing next to the lounge chair on the concrete.
Casey winked at Becky.
“You should try it, Mrs. Pearson. Take off your top, too.”
Beck frowned. Who was this strange girl her daughter had brought with her.
Her eyes turned to slits as she peered at Casey, and she hissed, “Ms. Ms. Dale. Pearson is the girls’ father’s name. They insist on carrying it. The bastard. The cheating—“
“Mom!”
Both girls glared at their mother.
“He didn’t cheat. You were already separated.”
“Still,” Becky said as she untied the top of her one-piece, slowly lowering the top to reveal her almost-but-not-quite ponderous boobs. Becky had gained several pounds over the years; although Casey could tell her body had begun with much the same form as her twin daughters, she had grown fat, well. Not quite fat. Plump in hip, tit, face, and thigh. She presented in every way possible the very definition of aged maternity.
Linda and Lacey doted on their mother, Casey could tell that right away.
It sometimes happens, Casey mused to herself. At that moment, Karen came out of the house.
She stopped when she saw her sister, her nieces, and even Casey clustered in a small group, topless.
Casey looked at Karen.
“Tits out, Karen,” she ordered.
Karen didn’t bother to resist.
But she did grab Casey around the waist and lead her to the other side of the pool, away from her family.
Casey wrapped her arm around Karen, and Becky, Linda, and Lacey stared in amazement at the backsides of the two females.
The strange girl had just seemed to collapse into Karen’s side.
“Mom,” Lacey asked. “Is Aunt Karen gay now? I mean, did you know she’s a lesbian?”
Becky shook her head.
She had known no such thing.
Becky looked up at Casey, so cute and adorable in Linda’s old swimsuit with her precious little boobies displayed.
“Lacey,” Casey asked mildly. “Do you need to go to the bathroom? Do you need to poop?”
“Um. Kind of, I guess. Why?”
Casey grinned at Becky.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
Karen looked on in fascinated horror as Lacey pulled off her bikini bottoms, stood over her mother lying on her huge beach towel, and squatted over her face, her hands on knees spread wide. Becky held her mouth wide open, but tears were streaming down her face, and loud grunts erupted from her throat.
Then she saw the turd emerge, and she heard Casey say loudly.
“Get your face closer to her ass, Ms. Dale. I don’t want you missing any of that juicy morsel. You know you want it.”
Becky raised her head by leaning on her elbows.
“Go ahead, Becky. You can do it. Just suck that down like a dick. Push your ass against your mom’s face, Lacey. Help her out a little, wouldja? Sheesh.”
Lacey pushed her ass against her mother’s face as Karen’s mouth engulfed the horrible shit.
Casey glanced at Karen.
The woman’s legs were parted, and her right hand slowly inched its way towards her cunt covered by the thin gusset of her swimsuit. Karen wore a one-piece like her sister, and her tits hung free and loose in the sunshine streaming over the Pearson’s backyard.
Karen’s eyes were dilated, and her lids were low over her eyes; her mouth hung open, and her chest rose and fell as her breathing became ragged and shallow. Her flushed cheeks betrayed her arousal, but her brows still furled in disgust, shock, and loathing at the depravity she witnessed. And enjoyed. Oh god.
I’m doing this for you, girl, Casey thought. All of this. Just for you.
And when Karen’s hip raised, and when Karen slipped her swimsuit over her rump and down her legs, Casey smiled.
Thank you, she whispered to herself. Thank you.
Standing over the sobbing visage of Ms. Dale, Casey taunted the woman.
“That’s it, baby. Swallow now. Swallow all of it down now. And don’t you worry at all. I’ll get little Linda to piss all over your face. That way you can wash all Lacey’s shit down your throat. Won’t that be nice?”
Becky struggled to swallow the nasty, horrible, disgusting feces in her mouth.
“Answer me.”
“But why,” Becky gasped between her sobs. “Why are you doing this to me? To us?”
Casey pointed her head at Karen.
“Because Karen wants me to. You eating shit turns her on so much. Look! She’s fucking herself watching you.”
It was true.
“Wipe your ass with your hand, Lacey, and lick your fingers clean.”
Still squatting, Lacey stared at Casey in terrified disbelief as she moved her hand to her bottom, wiping the excess filth and bringing her dirty hand to her face to lick her fingers clean. Her tongue emerged, tentatively. Scared. Reluctant.
“Don’t be shy, Lacey. Really lick that hand clean. Suck your fingers clean.”
She looked at Linda, who had remained motionless and aghast at the proceedings.
“Your turn, sweetheart. Squat over your mother’s face and piss. Piss hard.”
How could you? The text read. How could you?
Then another block of text, simple and direct.
Stay away from my family. Don’t you ever come over here again.
Karen read her phone, almost indifferent to the outrage and harm. Besides, she thought. What was the problem? It hadn’t all been watersport and scat play. Those orgasms had been real. Those splendid orgasms given to her by Lacey between her legs while she licked a shuddering Linda squatting above her head into climax after climax.
But Karen understood in a way.
Shitting into your mother’s mouth was bound to change a girl. The dynamics, the family dynamics would have to change. Whether they continued that particular form of entertainment remained a matter entirely between the three of them.
But they had all licked each other’s assholes, and that had been a pretty sight.
Tasted each other’s shit, drunk each other’s piss.
Kissed each other’s pussies and tongued each other’s mouths.
It wouldn’t soon be forgotten by either Linda, Lacey, or Becky.
Or by Karen, to tell the truth.
She hadn’t joined in, Casey wouldn’t let her join in, but oh god, she’d cum and cum again fucking herself to the sights, to the heavenly erotica taking place just in front of her, to all that incestuous Sapphic fucking. All that Sapphic, incestuous water sport. God, Linda’s piss just soaking her mother’s face, Becky’s face glistening and wet under the torrent, her mouth open in a desperate attempt to catch ever drop, her shit-stained teeth biting at the shower.
Oh my fucking god.
And when Lacey dived between her mother’s legs to catch the rain drops of piss flowing from her hole. God. Oh god, oh god. Karen howled and shrieked.
Just like she was about to howl and shriek now, with Casey between her thighs, licking at her swollen cunt like a deranged lover. Casey was a deranged lover. Karen’s fingers sank into Casey’s hair as she pressed the adorable controller into her snatch, pumping her hips, her cunt harder and harder into her face.
“Oh god, Casey. Oh god, there. Yeah. There. Oh god fuck, yeah. There. Yeah. I’m cumming. Oh god, I’m cumming.”
Casey lapped Karen’s pussy like a thirsty dog lapping a mud puddle, and the more Karen bucked and came, the more juices flowed from her steaming cunt, the more a frenzied Casey licked. She had two fingers in her hole, pressing them in and out as she lapped at her clitoral hood and the wet, warm flesh quivering around her fuckhole.
Casey used her other hand to fuck herself, her arousal so high, so high, she shuddered in her own orgasm just as Karen’s ended, and even as Casey came, another orgasm arose in Karen, and Karen screamed, clutched Casey’s head, and slammed her thighs tight around the girl’s face, fucking her and twisting over to fuck the girl’s face like the rag doll it had become.
When it was over, when the storm had passed, Karen reached over to draw Casey to her, but Casey jumped up, threw on her clothes, and fled.
“But baby,” Karen pleaded after her to no avail.
Baby had left the house.
Night had fallen, and Casey stood on the busy streetcorner, watching the lights of traffic zoom by, regarding the lighted business signs, the big neon glitter of bars and clubs and cafés illuminate the city’s downtown. A light rain had fallen that evening, and now the streets reflected a shimmering light, and the air smelled cool and fresh even amid the stench of exhaust and human life.
Casey regarded the trio of hot clubbers in slinky outfits, barely there halter tops and billowing pants, skin-tight at their asses, showing crack and camel toe, ready to fuck, ready to party. They were so garishly made-up, but they were sexy. So sexy.
She checked out the men.
She checked out the women.
She wanted to force one to the ground by the power of her words alone, make one of these arrogant pricks lick the dirt and shit off her shoes, but then the mood passed, and she no longer cared.
What the fuck did it matter?
What the fuck did any of it matter?
She beat her forehead with the ball of her hand, trying to drive out all the thoughts of despair filling her head.
She saw a middle-aged woman several feet away emerging from a fast-food shop, holding what looked to be a gyro up to her mouth. Casey ran up to her.
“Do you lick pussy?” she blurted out.
“Excuse me?” the woman answered, shocked and angry. Kids today were really getting out of hand, all that social media, all those terrible wars. They didn’t know any better, how could they?
“Do you?”
“No. Please leave me alone.”
“You do now. Follow me. Over there, in the alley. Don’t worry. You’ll like it.”
The woman pulled back, wanting to run away, but she dropped her sandwich as a terrible jolt of pain shot through her body, like fingers in a slammed car door.
“Don’t resist. Please.”
Casey held out her hand. Confused, the woman took it.
“Follow me, and the pain will go away.”
The woman started to follow, and the pain vanished leaving only a quickly fading memory. It flared up again the moment the woman lagged.
“Please don’t,” Casey said.
The woman followed.
Moments later the woman’s head was under Casey’s short skirt, clumsily learning how to eat a pussy for the first time. Not every woman experiments in college. Not every woman goes to school.
Casey tried to gauge the woman’s confusion, guess at the woman’s horror.
I should piss in her face. Or shit on the ground and make her smear her face in it.
I should make her bite her nipples off.
The idea intrigued her.
Could she? Would she be able to?
A vision filled her mind: a woman desperately biting her nipples off just to please Casey, but when she saw the woman’s face, she blanched. Casey turned white with fear.
It was Karen’s face.
Why am I thinking about her?
But then a second thought quickly followed, the certainty of Karen’s obedience, of Karen’s devotion.
She would. Karen would do it without hesitation.
She’d bite her tits off for me if I asked her to.
Then Casey knew for sure.
She’d bite her tits off if I just dropped a hint.
She pushed the woman away from her cunt and onto her back.
“Open your mouth, bitch,” she said, squatting over the woman’s confused and very frightened face.
The confusion deepened after several seconds of nothing happening.
Casey tried and tried, but she couldn’t urinate.
She screamed in frustration and yelled at the woman, kicking her without much force in the side.
“Get up and get out of here,” she shouted. “Get out of my fucking face.”
The knowledge that Karen would have been so patient, would have been so, well, encouraging, would have known exactly what to say to get Casey to piss haunted the girl’s mind.
How could I know that?
I’ve only had her for a day?
What’s happening to me?
She ran back out onto the wide pavement of the sidewalk. A bus passed, an advertisement stretched across the length of it, a model sporting a jeweled watch, and the model wore Karen’s face.
The driver turned to look at her, and Casey flinched seeing Karen behind the wheel.
Casey turned and ran down the wet concrete, averting her eyes to the sidewalk filled with Karens.
Karen woke up and saw Casey crouching on her bed, near her head, staring at her.
Karen smiled and opened her mouth wide, waiting for the girl to squat over her face to pour her contents out, shit or piss, it didn’t matter to Karen.
Blood?
Would she be able to lick Casey’s cunt when Aunt Flo came to visit?
If she told her to, she would.
If she just asked me to, I would.
If she just pointed at her slit, I’d know what to do, and I’d do it.
I’m so fucking hers.
I’ve never been anyone’s so completely.
So entirely.
But Casey didn’t squat over Karen’s face, and when Karen looked more closely, she saw tears falling from the corners of her eyes, smearing her lovely makeup, her lovely slutty makeup.
Karen was about to speak, but Casey cried out in confusion, anger, and pitiable fear.
“What did you do to me? What did you do to me?”
Casey clutched her head as if in agony, but Karen grabbed her and rocked her, clutching her to her breasts, and Casey burst into tears between the woman’s tits.
Cradling Casey against her, Karen reached with one arm for the nearby lamp and turned on the light.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Karen cradled Casey’s head between her breasts and smoothed her hair, cooing over her.
“Oh baby, baby, baby, don’t you know? Don’t you know what that is?”
Casey sniffled and shook her head, looking up at Karen pleadingly, tears shining in her eyes.
No, she didn’t know.
“Oh you goose,” Karen said.
Casey giggled, pulling away from Karen while playing with the woman’s large breasts. Her small hands roamed Karen’s fleshy mounds, and she rubbed her nipples, twisting them in fascination as they got hard in her fingers.
“Um,” she asked. “Would you bite these off if I asked you to? Your nipples?”
Karen bent her head forward, lifted her left tit to her mouth, and bit her nipple hard enough to leave marks.
Casey stopped her.
“I knew it,” she said, laughing. “I just knew it.”
Karen’s mouth dropped her tit, and she lifted Casey to her face and kissed her deeply.
“You’re mine now,” the woman explained. “Just like I’m yours.”
Casey looked at Karen suspiciously.
Then she grinned.
“Okay.
Casey sighed and kissed Karen lightly on the mouth.
“But I’m still going to make you eat my poop every day.”