She would cum when Glory Girl allowed it and not a second before. Between Glory Girl teasing her desperate cunt and Manticore's cock punching down her throat, Tattletale would know where she belonged.
Victoria left the daydream and looked at her lover. Her firm blue eyes met Taylor's curious gold.
"I want you to fuck her face so hard she can't do that stupid smile ever again." She announced.
Her boyfriend practically purred at that declaration. He really did like it when she talked dirty.
"But the Undersiders don't have territory and no one's been able to track them down. Even if we wanted screw the smug out of her... we don't know where she is." Victoria complained.
Taylor's tail thumped the bed. For all their talk about having a threesome or dosing some villain into a night of debauchery, it just never seemed to go anywhere.
"That's just about every female cape we know of that's in the city. If we don't pick any of them... I don't know. Why don't I just... I don't know... fuck your sister in front of you and call it a day?" Taylor waved a hand in resignation.
Victoria rolled her eyes at the vulgar suggestion. She decided to let the matter drop for now.
She let her head drop back down in the crook between his abdomen and his propped up leg.
Then a scene wormed its way into her mind.
Maybe she was still affected by Taylor's chemicals. Maybe her hormones and senses were still kicked into overdrive. Maybe she was feeling happy and sated and sexy. Maybe it was all of that: the way her pussy was still pleasantly sore, her mind still hazy and content from a night of rough sex, but her emotions still wanting to do something more. Something new and rebellious. Maybe she wanted something more scandalous and forbidden than seeing a vigilante behind everyone's backs.
Or maybe it was as Taylor said: she really was just that god damned deviant.
She inhaled slowly, savoring the smell of sex that still clung to them and the way Taylor's claws scraped her stomach. She closed her eyes and let the scene take shape.
An image of Taylor lounging lazily on the bed, his upper body supported by pillows. An image of her sister, of sweet little Amy, being held up by Taylor with casual ease. His large clawed hands would be clenched around Amy's midsection just tight enough as he fucked her. Slowly. Amy's legs limp and twitching as she was helplessly lowered and raised and lowered onto his thick, monstrous cock. Taylor would tell her how fucking tight she was, how wet and how small and how easy it was to move her however he wanted.
The mousy girl would switch between half-heartedly trying to pry Taylor's grip off her waist or giving in and groping herself as the slow strokes drove her to ecstasy again and again and again. Or she'd be raising her hands up to cover herself in embarrassment or shame, futilely trying to hide from Victoria.
Because Victoria would be there. She'd be kneeling between Taylor's legs, licking and sucking and kissing her sister's legs and her lover's length each time it slid out of Amy's overstretched pussy. Amy's small hands would tangle in her blonde hair, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. She would be there, her own hot tongue pushing on Amy's clit as her freckled face scrunched up and her eyes glazed over. Then Victoria would move up, kissing and nipping all along Amy's body. She'd trace her sister's distending abdomen, molding itself around Taylor's cock as it sawed upwards. She would suck on Amy's sweaty neck as her sister begged for more. More touching, more kissing, more cock. Amy's smaller frame would shudder and spasm as Victoria reached around and spread her sister's small, firm ass, offering Taylor—
Glory Girl exhaled roughly as her eyes slid open. She slowly moved her gaze to look up at Taylor's face. She could tell he was aroused... but also patient. Waiting. His golden eyes stared down her.
All of her. At her pert breasts and toned stomach and long legs. At her... fuck.
Victoria bit lip as she realized what she'd done outside of her little fantasy. She'd moved a hand between her thighs. Two claws were either side of her cunt, spreading her open so she could focus on fingering herself. Her fingers were already slick with her own juices. Her other hand had reached back and had begun to pleasure Taylor as well. Without looking she knew she was stroking his warm dick, her slim fingers not reaching around its girth.
Had she really just imagined this thing inside Amy? Daydreamed about holding her sister's face into her pussy as her boyfriend's cock, coated with both of their cum, withdrew from a gaping cunny? Did she just touch herself at the thought of her own sister being used like some fuck toy? Pleasuring her and him and loving every second of it?
...
...
...yep.
"I'm a deviant pervert."
Incomplete Bodysuit
(Автор: GiftOfLove)
For what felt like the hundredth time Taylor found herself running through all the reasons she shouldn't be doing this even as she pulled her shirt over her head and wiggled her way out of her jeans. Her costume wasn't ready. Her mask wasn't done. She didn't have a name! Did she mention that her costume wasn't finished?
It was literally still in pieces. She hadn't even had a chance to connect the sleeves and leggings to the main body. In truth what she had was closer to a leotard, with a set of mismatched stockings and gloves.
She put it on anyway, stepping into the main body of her costume and pulling it up. Threading her arms through the top, Taylor reached behind her and tugged the zipper up her back. It covered everything but her narrow hips, her womahood hidden beneath a thin strip of cloth that stretched between her legs. It was a tight fit. Tighter than she was expecting. Like a second skin.
Were bodysuits supposed to be this tight, or had she made a mistake with her measurements?
Putting it out of her mind for now, Taylor bent down to slip on her leggings. They sat at two different lengths, one more complete than the other. The one that covered her right leg rose up to mid thigh and was the one that she had put the most work into. The one for her left leg stopped a few inches over her knee. The 'gloves' were much the same.
As dressed as she was going to get, she moved to look at herself in a dusty full body mirror surrounded by old cardboard boxes. It had been her mother's once, moved down into the basement with the rest of her things after her death.
Taylor took one look at herself in the mirror and flushed to the tips of her ears.
The young woman looking back at her looked nothing like Taylor Hebert. If you could look past the nonexistent chest and lack of curves the girl in the mirror was almost . . . sexy.
Twisted
(Автор: Angush)
Preface: A thing. Nothing sexy yet. Wrote it about a month ago, and I'm a bit unsure about the little jump-ahead snippet thing at the start. Takes place toward the end of their first year at Winslow, in case you couldn't tell. (2,672 words)
* * *
Someone knocked on the stall door. I looked up from my sandwich and swallowed my mouthful. "Occupied," I said.
A girl's voice — duh, it's the girls bathroom — replied. "Taylor? Is that you?"
I went still, though doing so didn't really help with anything. I recognised the voice. It wasn't one I was happy to hear. "Uh... no?"
"It's Madison," my bully said. "Madison Clements." A pause. "Are you eating?"
I glanced down at my half-eaten sandwich. Suppressing a sigh, I replaced it in its plastic wrap, putting it back into my lunchbox and closing the lid. "You can't at least let me have lunch in peace?" I muttered.
I regretted it immediately, expecting retribution and vitriol. But Madison just laughed. "I'm not here to bother you," Madison said. "But I think we should talk." A hand popped under the stall door, holding a folded-up piece of paper between the fingers. I belatedly realised I was only hearing Madison out there. No Emma. No Sophia. Just her.
The fingers wiggled. I bent and took the paper, and her hand withdrew. "Meet me there after school," she said. "I have a proposal I think you'll be interested in."
Then she left, her shoes scuffing the tiles as she went.
I frowned. That was unusual. I'd expected to have soda dumped on me, or something worse. But not... whatever that was.
I glanced at the paper in my hand. Curiosity got the better of me; I unfolded it and read the words she'd written.
My first thought was `trap.' She was luring me somewhere private so she and the others could mess with me, maybe tape me to a pole and leave me there overnight, or something else — their imaginations were better than mine.
But... that didn't make sense. Emma and Sophia could get me alone whenever they wanted — they had to have some sort of sixth sense for when there weren't any teachers around. They certainly didn't have to hand me a note and ask. And even if did, they'd have no guarantee I'd show up. I could just blow them off. It's not like they could force me.
I shook my head and stood. I could think about that later. Right now, I just wanted to leave. Madison might be genuine, or she might not be. Whichever it was, I wasn't going to stick around long enough to see if she led Emma and Sophia here.
* * *
The bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. I put my books into my bag slowly, watching Sophia pack her stuff up out of the corner of my eye. She stuffed her things into her bag without much regard, then strode out of the room with the usual irritated expression on her face.
I followed her, making sure to keep a distance between us — and as many people as I could. Sophia didn't seem to notice me. She left the school — not even stopping at her locker for the rest of her books — and caught the first bus to the city.
Away from where Madison wanted to meet.
That didn't really prove that Madison's meeting was safe — Sophia could just loop around. But it was the best I was going to get. So I hopped on a bus headed to the boardwalk and made my way to the address on Madison's note.
It was a little tea shop, tucked behind a book store. I pushed the door open hesitantly. A little bell chimed above me, and I looked around. It was empty except for Madison, who sat at a table in the far corner, her hands crossed over the tabletop. She saw me and smiled, waving me over. Reluctantly, I went.
I sat down opposite Madison, watching her carefully. She didn't say anything; she just kept smiling at me.
I heard a sound behind me and glanced over my shoulder, more out of paranoia than any real belief that Emma or Sophia had somehow snuck up on me. And as I expected, it was only the waitress. She walked up to our table and asked what we'd like. Madison ordered a cup of ginger tea and a chocolate-chip muffin. I asked for a glass of water.
"I knew you'd come," Madison said once the waitress had left. She was still smiling at me.
I looked around again. Still only us. I felt a little bit of confidence blossom within me.
I turned back to Madison and stared at her. "W-what do you want?" Dammit. I just had to stammer there.
"Lots of things," Madison said. "But right now, I just want to talk. Like I said before, I have a proposal for you."
I waited, but she didn't continue. Her smile was beginning to grate on my nerves. I gestured. "And that is?"
Madison brought her hands together on the tabletop, interlocking fingers. "You have a bullying problem. I can help you solve that."
I scowled at her. "You're part of the problem."
"True," Madison said. "But I'm not the instigator. That's Emma and Sophia. And I can help you deal with them."
I glanced over my shoulder again. Still empty. I shook my head. I don't know why I kept doing that; the bell above the door would alert me when someone entered. Somehow I didn't trust it. "How so?" I said.
"I've spent a lot of time with them this past year," Madison said. "And I've learned a lot. For instance, Emma isn't half as confident as she seems." Madison took a sugar packet from the little basket on the table, twisting it in her hands. "All we have to do is separate her from Sophia and apply the right leverage, and..." She tore the packet in the middle, letting the sugar run out and pile onto her menu. "She'll crumble, never to bother you again."
Part of my mind told me to get up and leave then and there, that I couldn't trust her. But... there was something about the way she spoke that made me think she was serious. Her tone, her choice of words. At school, she played up the cute factor, fluttering lashes and looking innocent and speaking in a high pitch with simple language. But she wasn't doing any of that here.
Still, taking her seriously and trusting her were two very different things. I didn't believe for a second this offer of hers was a charitable one. She wanted something, like part of my allowance or a promise to do all her assignments for the rest of the year. Or my soul.
I was about to speak when the waitress returned with our orders, taking the spilled sugar with her when she left. I sipped at my water while Madison stirred her tea. "Alright," I said. "Let's say I take you up on this offer of yours. What do you get out of it?"
"It's simple," Madison said, pausing to sip her tea. "I get to..." She faltered, and covered it with a demure cough into her napkin. "I... I get Emma's throne. See, when school started, it was a mostly equal playing field. The seat atop the proverbial human pyramid that is high school politics lay unclaimed, as it should. Then Emma and Sophia began their campaign against you, and you didn't do anything about it." I bristled, but she waved me down. "I'm not condemning you, Taylor. I'm just stating facts. Relax."
I grudgingly swallowed my objections. Madison sipped at her tea again. "As I was saying," she continued, "their campaign against you — and your subsequent lack of resistance — has made you into a social pariah, the target for everyone's scorn. And that has allowed them to develop a base of power. The weak-minded are drawn to such things. They've used you as a stepping stone, a tool to reach the height of the school's hierarchy — and then they've used you to stay there."
Another sip. "But I'm not like the others, Emma's sycophants. Subservience has never come easily to me. And knowing Emma and Sophia as I do now, it is clear to me that they are not at all suited to the position they have claimed. So I want to replace them. But to do that, first I need to knock them down. Destroy them. And if you help me, I can guarantee your safety once I am in control. Nobody will trouble you under my watch."
I nodded slowly. The more she'd talked, the more certain I'd become that she was serious. This wasn't an act. It couldn't be. And despite myself, I was interested, though it pissed me off the way she seemed to downplay her part of it. "So why come to me?" I said, watching her. "You said it yourself: I'm a social pariah. I don't have any power. I can't help you."
