Note from Piper: This is a compilation of short stories by several writers. In December 2015, I challenged the denizens of the Domain to write a short story for each gift of The Twelve Days of Christmas. I started things off small but our great writers quickly added what could be considered full-length stories. Enjoy!
Twelve: Drummers Drumming by Piper
*bum* *brrum* *bum* *bum*
The McDonald family was lined up on the sidewalk with everyone else, watching the parade march by. The drumline was approaching them now and the strong beats reverberated through the crowd in physical ripples. Everywhere, hands began twitching as each new note pattered out from the large instruments. Ross and Mable McDonald leaned out over the edge of the sidewalk, craning to see the drummers. Standing between them, their daughter, Shae, held onto Mable's leg as she also stretched to see around the crowd.
*badum* *bum* *bum* *brum*
Arms jerked upwards in sync with the steady drumming, as if each note held a different string to a puppet. Shae unzipped her bright pink jacket while her parents stripped off their own jackets much faster. Shirts and other underclothes joined discarded jackets on the sidewalk, littering the ground between the press of bodies. Shae's flat nipples hardened into tiny nubs in the brisk air, and above her head, her mother's puckered much more noticeably. The drummers were in front of the McDonalds now, two rows of six, tapping their mystical beat in unison.
*brum* *brum* *brum* *badum*
The drumline marked the end of the parade, but it was followed by dozens of topless figures, swaying in a growing ensemble. As the drummers passed, the McDonalds and everyone around them stepped forward to join the other half-naked parade-goers, swelling their numbers from dozens to over a hundred. And the drummers marched on.
Eleven: Pipers Piping by Willobee Goode
For her daughter's birthday, Michelle took the preteen and ten of her friends to Ye Olde Apple Pye Tavern. There Willow and the others would dine on cherry scones and tea while entertained in the comfort of a Dickensian atmosphere.
While they were being served, eleven pipers entered the room. Dancing around in their period outfits including green tights, they played hypnotic music on their flutes and piccolos. While they did so, the girls reached under their party dresses and vigorously rubbed their pussies.
When the pipers completed their set, each placed an instrument in front of a girl before departing.
The birthday girl stood and stripped out of her dress. After pulling her panties down to her ankles, she picked up the flute before her and held it up.
Her ten friends stood and removed their dresses and panties before picking theirs up. Willow then lined up the flute with the pussy slit and gingerly placed it inside. When the other did likewise, Willow yelled, "Now." In unison, the flutes and piccolos invaded each girl's body, tearing the hymen as it went.
Given a minute to recover from the shock, the girls followed Willow in thrusting the silver cylindrical end up and down, in and out, moaning loudly as they did.
One by one, they hit a climax, collapsing to the floor when they came. Eleven delowered preteens littered the floor with smiles on their faces.
"I had never seen that before," said the server to Michelle.
"I had," said the mother. "This one time...at band camp...I did the same thing. It turned me into a nympho."
In an instance Michelle knew exactly what she was having for her Christmas feast. Eleven nymphs in training. She hoped the gift lasted the whole year.
Ten: The Nutcracker by NoOneInteresting
12 year old Dawn had loved ballet all of her life, it seemed; she'd been taking lessons since she was only three. Consequently, she was toned, flexible and looked a good 2 – 3 years younger than she was. When a touring company announced that they were bringing The Nutcracker to a nearby city, she begged her parents to go. Unfortunately, there were a limited number of performances and since it would be right before Christmas, the tickets sold out fast and due to demand, the scalped tickets were just too expensive.
Dawn was disappointed, to say the least, up until her dance instructor told everyone that the company would be coming to their studio to see the students perform and select one lucky winner to sit in the front row, receive a backstage pass and even—possibly—score a one-time role in the show.
This was her dream come true.
When the dancers entered the studio, she had to suppress a squeal of delight. Ten men, all dressed in their rehearsal clothes. Not only was she excited that she'd be dancing for them and possibly get to see and be in the show, but, as they were all quite good looking, she felt more than a little attraction to them as well. She certainly wouldn't be complaining about looking at them all day.
After a demonstration, where the ten professionals leaped and danced around the studio, they put the girls through their paces, watching their poses and leaps and performing lifts with them. The lifts were Dawns favorite parts, leaving her wishing their hands would stray just a little closer to her sensitive parts.
At the end of the day, she was nearly desperate for release and kept glancing at the crotch of her leotard, worried that she'd soaked it through. So distracted was she that she nearly missed the announcement that she had won.
A week later, she found herself at the Rosenburg Performing Arts Center as the audience filtered through the doors. She, however, was backstage, having a costume adjusted slightly to fit her. She had been selected for the walk-on part, and she couldn't have been more excited than she was. Her head buzzed with the thrill of being onstage with dancers of this caliber and she was overwhelmed trying to take it all in.
Finally the costume was finished. There was something unusual about the leotard that she couldn't quite put her finger on, so she just waved it off as the difference between amateur costumes and professional.
She went over her directions once more: At the proper time, she was to bourrée en point across the back of the stage to up stage center, where she would go into a lift. From there, she was told, it would be self explanatory.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked down at her pink leotard, crisscrossed with white ribbons, and her flaring pink tutu as the moment she was waiting for approached.
The director, hearing the cue, sent her on stage. She glided across the stage perfectly as the men danced around her. At center stage, she transitioned into a plié, and straight into a lift. She felt an arousing shiver pass through her as the dancer's hand cupped her sex. She suddenly realized what was so different about her costume: her leotard was crotchless.
The dancer's fingers deftly moved and stroked her moistening lips and clit as he carried her aloft about the stage. She ceased being aware of the hundreds of people in the audience watching as she was molested.
She was spun around, making her a bit dizzy. As they came out of the spin, they were near another dancer. Her eyes widened as she saw that his tights were lowered and his large throbbing cock was exposed. The dancer holding her, lowered her with practiced ease straight down onto the waiting cock of the other dancer, which was forced deep inside her virgin hole. Powerful arms gripped her by the waist and fucked her up and down on his rigid manhood.
Waves of pleasure and excitement crashed over her small body as he pumped her up and down, even as he danced across the stage.
After a short dance—all too short, in her opinion—the cock inside her pulsed and sprayed her inner walls with cum. Mere moments later, she was handed off to another dancer, who held her to him facing away. This dancer's cock, quickly found its way into her virgin asshole. Even as the first dancer's seed slowly drained out of her cunt, the second was building up to his orgasm, and driving her nearer to hers.
Once the second had cum, she was passed off to a third, who somehow managed to flip her upside down so that she was staring at his shins as he danced around, and yet still managed to slip his cock into her still damp pussy. He held onto her legs and used them to fuck her up and down on his shaft, his balls rhythmically pressing against her clit. It was during this fucking that she came the first time.
For the next several minutes, until the end of the scene, she was passed off to each of the ten dancers one by one (and once a pair that fucked both her cunt and ass at the same time). She was sure that she'd been fucked in every conceivable position and she'd completely lost track of the number of times she'd cum, but as she was carried off by the last dancer, still impaled on his spasming cock, she had a dazed smile on her face.
Now that her part was done, she stripped out of her costume and pulled on her blouse, pants, shoes and socks (completely forgetting to put her panties on). She was then escorted to her seat in the front row where she would be able to watch the rest of the performance as the seed of ten men slowly drained into the crotch of her pants.
At the end of the night, she returned home raving about the experience. She went on and on about how much fun she'd had dancing with the professionals and that she was sure that's what she wanted to do with her life.
When she got ready for bed that night, she wondered briefly why she wasn't wearing panties and where they might be. Then she decided that she didn't need to wear them anymore so she shouldn't worry about it.
She was confused that she would now become quite aroused during her daily ballet practices. Often, she would cum several times before going home at the end of the day, still horny and desperate for more.
She would be even more confused a few weeks later when she discovered that she was pregnant. She swore to everyone that she'd never had sex before. After all, when could she? Between school and ballet lessons, she'd never had time for a boyfriend.
Nine: The Dance of the Flowers by Alvo Torelli
The bus from Our Lady of Immaculate Passion elementary school took a wrong turn on the way to the aquarium. There was nowhere to turn around and something always seemed to prevent their ability to back up. With each new turn the streets became narrower and the sky seemed to recede up a tightening canyon of dingy buildings. A hush fell over the nine third graders as excitement turned to worry.
Eventually there were no choices for the desperate driver, the girls' teacher, Ms. Cara Denet. In a final desperate bid to turn the unwieldy bus around she pulled into the open garage entrance of a run-down apartment building. But before she could even try to back up the heavy metal door rolled down and the bus was plunged into darkness. Nine little girls screamed with fright.
A thin odorless gas swirled through the bus. Like the smirk on the face of Ms. Denet beneath her gas mask, the gas was unseen by the nine children as one by one they slumped in their seats.
Bethany woke groggily, rubbing her eyes. To her left she saw Bobby and Belinda slumped together, just beginning to move. Beyond them Beatrice and Bonnie were already standing, looking about wide-eyed. To her right, Barbara and Betty were also already on their feet, Brooke barely had her eyes open and little Bunny was on all fours, shakily trying to rise to her feet. Bethany rose to her own unsteady feet and moved to help Bobby up. In a few seconds all nine little ladies were back on their feet and huddled together for comfort in the middle of an expansive room that looked ever so much like a dance studio. Around all four sides of the room a balcony ran, filled with people sitting in chairs, looking down on the young girls with quiet anticipation.
And the music began - a slow stately melody - a nonet of strings and woodwinds. The nine lovely young ladies found that they had formed a perfect circle, each of them facing outwards. They all stood tall, raised their arms over their heads and then bowed low to their silent audience as the dance began. The looks of surprise on their faces were the only signs that this was not a well-rehearsed dance.
The children moved in perfect unison and their circle formed intricate patterns as they slowly stripped off their school uniforms - down to the floor to remove their shoes, close together in a tight ring as sweaters were pulled over their heads, tossed away and blouses were unbuttoned in time to the swelling beat. They formed a perfect nine-point star, legs spread wide and feet touching, girl to girl all the way around the circle, then legs were lifted to the sky and woolen skirts fell down to reveal nine pairs of pretty cotton underpants. Rolling backwards the girls pushed upwards to their feet in a nearly acrobatic move, hands outspread, touching fingertip to finger tip around the circle. Then each unzipped and dropped her skirt to the floor.
The music swelled and the girls kicked their skirts out of the way in a single fluid motion. They pirouetted and spun as their circle turned clockwise, then counterclockwise. They were like perfect ballerinas, wearing nothing but cotton panties on their bodies and looks of fear and confusion on their faces. The music paused, dramatically, and so did the lovely lasses, each girl bending forward to place her hands on the hips of the girl in front of her all around the circle. And then, as the music returned, each girl pushed dropped another girl's panties to floor, they stepped forward and nine dancing, beautiful, naked third graders pranced forward, spinning and swirling as one.
All around the balcony the audience sat on the edge of their seats, gazing down hungrily at the nine gorgeous young third graders.
The music stopped as suddenly as it had started and the children froze in place, facing outwards, arms outstretched. As they stood, unable to move, the music started again, very quietly, with a slow beat as nine tall, burly black men appeared from the shadows and approached the frightened little girls. The men were as naked as the girls, their erections already bobbing as they stepped forward in time to the music. Each man carried in his hand a strip of black leather. As men formed a second perfect circle around the naked children, the girls, in perfect unison, knelt at the feet of their dancing partners. Their feet touched, girl to girl around the circle, forming a pretty flower of young female flesh. Each man bowed low to his partner, then carefully placed the collar around her neck as the music began to beat louder and faster.
Nine thick erections slid into nine small mouths as eighteen wide eyes looked on in terror. Black hair, red hair, brunette and blondes, all swirled and bobbed to the music as the young girls each received their first taste of masculine tumescence. Stretching their arms out, hands on shoulders all the way around both circles, the dancers swayed left and right, with the little heads moving outward, then inwards, then outwards again. From above the patterns of the blow-job minuet were fascinating. Faster and faster the music rose and the movements followed suit. Suddenly every man in the circle flung his arms in the air, thrust his hips forward and nine little mouths were filled with hot, thick sperm. Applause rent the air from the balconies.
But the dance was far from over. At once the music swelled and quickened into a fast, aggressive waltz. Nine little girls were pulled to their feet by nine muscular black dancers. Embracing, the couples spun and twirled to the waltz, the entire dance floor appeared to spin and spiral as the couples whirled about in a perfectly choreographed dance. As they came together and moved apart, dark black skin and milky white skin combined to form intricate, ever changing patterns for the watchers above. Faster and faster they spun. Little feet were pulled off the floor as little girls were twirled around their large partners. All of the girls suddenly met face to face in the middle of the room, nine pairs of terrified eyes locked onto one another's gazes before they were pulled back into their partner's waiting arms.
Nine girls were lifted from their feet by strong dark hands gripping their tiny waists. Nine pairs of thin legs wrapped around the muscular stomachs of the men as the girl's arched backwards to form a non-pointed star that broke outwards into whirling satellites. Blood rushed to the heads of nine confused little children. Around and around they all flew as the music built in tempo and excitement until a single crash of sound fell over the dancers and the men collapsed into nine wooden chairs that had appeared in a circle in the very center of the room.
Each male dancer held his little partner by the waist, just above his lap. Nine erect black cocks were poised, just touching nine perfect little hairless and untouched pearly mounds. Everyone paused, waiting for the music, holding their breaths - even the members of the audience. Nine pairs of terrified eyes looked down at the men. And then the music began again, a fast jungle-beat of passion. Nine little girls were thrust downwards and nine little cherries burst in a simultaneous orgy of rapid thrusting.
In perfect unison, nine little girls arched their backs, threw their arms in the air and screamed to the music as they were deflowered. Reaching out, they clasped hands around the circle to form another flower for their appreciative audience, a black and white flower that bobbed up and down as the men thrust upwards to the time of the jungle beat. The girls swayed back and forth, in and out, as they were impaled deeper and deeper.
The climax of the performance arrived with the crescendo of the music. Trumpets flared and drums pounded and nine little pussies were filled to overflowing with hot, thick cum. The children could only scream in time with the cacophonous music and then the entire circle of bodies collapsed into a close mass, each little girl quivering in orgasm on the chest of her dance partner.
Thunderous applause - a standing ovation. The dancers stood in a single circle clasping hands, each little girl between two statuesque black men as they all took a deep bow. And finally, to cap the performance the choreographer and Dance Master, Ms. Cara Denet, appeared to even louder applause as roses and carnations rained down on her from the balcony.
It was too bad that her little charges wouldn't remember her wonderful new performance piece, Ms. Denet thought, as the now-comatose children were carried back to their bus. But then she brightened, thinking forward to their next field trip.
Eight: Maids a-Milking by NoOneInteresting
The renowned British superspy opened his eyes. He was strapped to an ominous metal table. Arrayed around him were seven other men, strapped to identical tables. The most intriguing thing was that they were all nude.
“Well,” said the spy, “we appear to have some time to kill. Introductions all round?”
The other men looked at each other, then one by one introduced themselves.
“David,” said the first.
“Sean,” said another.
And around the room they went: “George.” “Roger.” “Tim.” “Pierce.”
“Dan,” said the last. “And you sir?”
“Blond,” said the spy. “James Blond.”
The men all wondered where they were, why they were there, and what they were going to do.
Blond attempted to reassure them that he had a plan, though what it was, he wouldn't say.
Suddenly a pair of metal doors mounted high on the wall slid open. There, standing on the balcony overlooking the room, stood a bald man in a gray suit. He had a wicked-looking scar that began at his forehead, ran down by his eye and ended at his cheek.
“Well,” said the spy, “if it isn't my old nemesis, Hans Blownwell.”
“Hello, Mr. Blond,” said Blownwell.
“What is the meaning of this?” responded Blond. “Do you expect me to talk?”
Blownwell laughed. “No, Mr. Blond. I expect you to cum!”
At that moment, another door opened, this one at ground level. Through the door marched 8 naked young girls who appeared to be between the ages of seven and eleven. One by one, they walked up to stand to one side or the other of each of the eight metal tables.
Each girl reached out and grasped the cock of the man she stood next to. Blond felt the girl next to him take his cock in her petite hand. She slowly began stroking him to hardness just as her companions were doing to the other men.
“What's your plan, Blownwell?” demanded Blond. “Blackmail? You plan to release video of us being serviced by underage girls?”
Blownwell, just smiled as though amused.
“It won't work,” continued the spy. “It's clear we're captives and have no ability to prevent what's happening.”
“Blackmail, Mr. Blond?” asked Blownwell. “Is that all you think of me triple-oh-seven? Of course not. Behind you is a drill that will carry a nuclear warhead to the center of the Earth. When it goes off, the entire surface will be destroyed. I will, however, be safe here in my impenetrable bunker. In a few years, when the surface of Earth has stabilized and the girls are old enough, I'll use your sperm and these beautiful little creatures to begin a new human race.”
“You're insane, Blownwell.”
“Perhaps,” said Blownwell. “But I will be the master of a new race. And there is nothing you can do to stop me.”
Blownwell, then turned and left.
Blond and the others tried their best not to be aroused by their tiny little nymphets, but it was a losing battle. The sensation of their tiny hands stroking their cocks was proving to be too much for them. The spy, who was a well known womanizer and had no lack of appreciation for the adult female form, nevertheless found himself inexplicably attracted to these undeveloped prick teases.
The one stroking his cock appeared to be about eight years of age. She had light brown hair, and dazzling blue eyes. Her tiny pink nipples puckered on her flat chest as though she were being aroused by masturbating him. Indeed, he heard, more than once, his little partner moan in the back of her childish throat. He couldn't believe how much he was turned on by it.
Slowly, she brought him closer and closer to the edge. He knew he had a way out of his restraints, it was simply a matter of time. But he found himself hoping that she would finish him off before he could make his escape.
She moaned again, catching him off guard. Her little hand twisted a bit on his way up his cock, gently caressing its exposed head. He felt a pulse deep inside his crotch and knew he'd just passed the point of no return. As though she sensed this, she lifted a small plastic cup to the tip of his throbbing cock with her other hand. A few more deft strokes with her gentle touch and his cock spasmed, spewing copious amounts of his cum into the cup.
It was only after his orgasm was over that he noticed that the other men were either finished or nearing their own climaxes. At that moment, he heard a click and his restraints released him.
He leaped off the table and informed the others that they were free. The two men who were still approaching their orgasms chose to wait just a few more strokes until they too had sprayed their loads into their respective cups before freeing themselves.
The girls, heedless of the escape, continued about their duties, placing lids on the cups and exiting the room.
“Why are we free?” asked George.
“Blownwell made the mistake of removing my wristwatch,” replied Blond. “When it came off my wrist, it began attempting to hack into any computer networks it could find. It then implanted a simple instruction to ‘release clamps'. Once that happened, we were all freed.”
“How did you know it was going to be clamps?” asked Sean.
“Yeah,” added Roger, “What if he'd used ropes?”
“Blownwell is predictable,” responded Blond. “It's always clamps.”
Then the eight of them heard two extremely loud clangs. They all looked over at the drill. Its two huge clamps holding it in place had released. The massive spiral bit at the bottom of the drill began to spin, slowly coming up to speed in preparation for launch.
Blond ran over to the control panel and checked it's status.
“It seems my watch worked only too well. The release of the clamps has started the launch sequence of the drill.” He turned to the men. “I think I can stop it, but you all get out of here, just in case.” The men all ran for the nearest exit.
“Good luck,” yelled Dan on his way out.
Blond's fingers danced over the controls, checking readings, making adjustments. Very quickly, he came to a conclusion. He could stop the drill, but not the warhead. It wouldn't be too bad; sealed inside the bunker, the blast should be fairly well contained. It would, at least, take care of Blownwell once and for all.
Then he thought of the girls. He couldn't let them all be killed; they were innocents in all this.
Finding another file on the computer, he discovered that the eight little girls had been extensively reprogrammed. It would take far too long to decipher what was done to them and then months to untrain their minds. But he simply couldn't let them die.
In the end, he did what he had to do. He recalled the girls to the launch room and refocused their service from Blownwell, to himself. They would now serve him unconditionally, unless they could be retrained. But since the nature of their programming was locked in this computer and was going to be destroyed, that was incredibly unlikely.
A few minutes later, British superspy James Blond, 0007, emerged from Blownwell's secret lair trialing eight naked little girls just as all of the emergency hatches slammed permanently shut. He found a van and they all climbed inside. And then he sped away from the coming destruction with his eight naked servants in tow.
And he couldn't help but think of all the fun they were going to have together.
Seven: Swans a-Swimming by Alvo Torelli
"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" the gathered gods chanted as Zeus drained an enormous flagon of Pabst Blue Ribbon, the beer of the gods. Cheers erupted as the flagon was slammed down on the marble table, giving off lightning bolt sized sparks.
"Settle down, settle down, ya' flaming bastards," Zeus bellowed. "Let me tell you the story about the time I ravaged the beautiful Leda!"
"Oh gods, not that old yarn again," yelled Apollo. "We're all sick of that one dad, and every time you tell it the girl's more beautiful and your cock's another inch longer!" Guffaws of laughter erupted around the room.
"Fie on the lot of you, ya' ungrateful sons of bitches!" Zeus drawled in a booming voice that frightened villagers, afraid of thunder, across an entire valley.
"Oh let the old braggart tell the tale," boomed Poseidon. "You know we'll all be trapped here until he does, so why not get it over with?"
"But we could all tell the tale ourselves," Hermes answered, "in half the time!" Laughter rippled through the crowd yet again.
"Go on brother, tell us the tale," Hades said in a low, despondent, mood. "Then maybe I'll tell you the one about the pomegranate, eh?"
"God no! Not the pomegranate again, spare us!" Dionysus yelled. "That one's killed far too many parties!"
"And besides, there's no sex or violence in that one," Ares growled. "Go on dad, tell us the one about Leda, for the ten thousandth time!" More laughter and hoots followed.
"Damn you all and damn your impertinence!" Zeus flared. "I tell you there's nothing like it, it's the best ever. You're all just too frightened and weak-livered to try it! If you did you'd know!"
The various gods drunken gods looked from face to face with sudden interest and confusion.
"But, but, you're the only one of us, father, who can do such a transformation," Hermes said.
"But I'm a GOD, you fool! How many times do I have to explain to you drunken idiots - we're gods! I can transform the lot of you." Zeus took another huge swig from his refilled flagon and wiped his foamy lips on the sleeve of his cloak.
"Well I'm in," said Apollo and he downed his flagon of beer.
"Me too!" Dionysus chorused. "Let's make it a party!"
"Fucking A!" yelled Ares, slamming down his empty flagon, "Fuckin A!"
"This'll be great! Just let me get my shoes," Hermes joined in.
"You will all bow before me upon the water, but I too will join this festivity," growled Poseidon as he polished off his Aqua Vitae.
Only Hades held out, for just a moment, before slamming down his empty crystal bottle of absinthe and growling, "Very well, if you insist, but I think this will be the death of me!"
Zeus looked out over his gathered brothers and sons and smiled.
"I don't like the look of those birds out in the water," Ophelia's sister said primly. "I think you should stay out of the water for now."
"Oh gods, you're such a worry-wart, Timandra," eleven-year-old Ophelia declared imperiously. "They're only birds, silly. And besides, didn't you see the dreamy boys headed down to swim." She checked her skimpy bikini one last time in the mirror. "I," she declared, "am going swimming."
"Gods help us," Timandra sighed, "please don't get in trouble, again!"
Ophelia strutted her fine little body down the beach like only a girl on the very cusp of womanhood can strut. Her tanned, thin body, flowing blonde tresses, small budding breasts and her prominent cleft mound, barely concealed behind wisps of cloth, drew the admiration (and salivation) of males young and old. She loved the attention. As soon as she was certain everyone was watching her and only her, she scampered down the dock and dove deep into the cool water of the lake.
After a few hard underwater strokes Ophelia surfaced and swam for the swimming platform. She didn't notice at first that that the platform was empty, no longer crowded with vacationing swimmers. She did, however, notice the wedge of seven swans gliding along just above the water, their huge muscular wings outstretched and beating languidly to keep them just barely aloft. They were all the snowiest of white, but for the final swan on the left side of the V, who was the black of death. Ophelia climbed the ladder to the platform, mesmerized by the swans. As she watched they landed in the water not a hundred yards from the abandoned platform. All seven seemed to be staring at the young beauty across the water and Ophelia shivered under their gazes.
As the swans drew nearer and nearer, Ophelia was transfixed by their power and beauty. She quickly realized they were bigger than she had assumed when she first saw them flying. They were huge, probably bigger than her, though she was only a slight thing. By the gods, they were so magnificent! Even as the first and biggest of the swans leaped onto the swimming platform, the sweet but impetuous child was pulling at the ties of her bikini and dropping both flimsy pieces of cloth to the ground.
Zeus waddled with as much dignity as he could manage in the form of a swan until he stood before the gorgeous child. Neck held high he was her equal in height. The other swans gathered in a circle around Ophelia and she turned slowly, looking each one its beady eyes. Small tongues flicked in and out of the frightening beaks and the long necks bobbed and swayed as the birds examined every inch of the naked, perfect child.
Facing the largest of the magnificent birds again, Ophelia raised her arms over her head and stepped forward to be enveloped by the wonderful downy softness of the bird's feathers. She gasped in surprise at the strength of the wings that enveloped her, holding her tight and pulling her fine little butt towards the giant swan's belly. Her feet left the ground and she wrapped her thin legs around the softness, grabbing the swan's shoulders in her little hands for support. Ophelia heard the clacking of many beaks, and several of the swans honked loudly.
The swan's huge phallus seemed to come from nowhere, to erupt from his snowy white body and impale the innocent child. Ophelia cried out in amazement and confusion and joy as the huge swan tore away her maidenhood and thrust deep inside her to the honking cheers of his brothers and sons. Ophelia bounced up and down in his strong grasp. The soft downy feathers of his breast rubbed her tiny nipples gloriously. She threw her head back and moaned with intense pleasure. Even as Zeus thrust harder and deeper into the child he made sure that her orgasm was continuous and overwhelming.
"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!" Ophelia cried out as she bounced up and down on the marvelous bird's huge erection, taking him deeper inside of her thin body than should have been humanly possible. "Yes, yes, yes!" she screamed and she felt the burning hot sensation of the bird's lightening-tinged cum filling her insides and fertilizing her barely mature eggs.
Ophelia was lifted off of Zeus's huge member and passed to his son Apollo, who pulled her tight and filled her tight pussy so quickly she barely noticed the transfer. But there was a rude change of pace when she looked over her shoulder to see the huge black swan wrapping his powerful wings around her waist. His neck craned around to look her directly in the eyes. His tiny eyes glowed with fires of hell and Ophelia shrank back, frightened for the first time since she'd been mesmerized. But all fear was forgotten in an instant when the black swan's huge cock pushed up into her tight and tiny ass. She was filled, front and back, by enormous thrusting cocks and she began to lose her grasp on sanity from the incredible orgasmic pleasure it gave her. Unable to form words she simply screamed, "AAAAGGGHHHH!"
All around the impaled child, the honking and clattering continue. The swans almost seemed to be cheering one another on, daring new feats of prowess. Soon Ophelia was on all fours, straddling another one of the beasts, who, despite his form, seemed to be comfortable on his back as long as his gigantic cock was buried deep in the little girl's tight cunt and she was moaning in ecstasy. Another swan took her from behind, filling her restricted anus with vigor. As a third bird enveloped her head in his downy wings she gave up her wild moaning for rapid cock-sucking. Her little hands flew out to the sides and grasped at whatever organ she could find, rapidly stroking cock and after cock.
Any onlookers, if there had been any, would have thought they were looking at a gang fight among giant swans, rather than the gang rape of an eleven-year-old girl. Her body completely disappeared beneath their huge beating wings. Long necks and sharp beaks slashed at one another as bird after bird joined the throng and battle for position, vying to be next to fuck the beautiful child.
Little Ophelia was filled in every hole again and again. Her stomach, her intestines and her tiny womb all filled to overflowing with magical god-cum, a lifetime supply of sperm to impregnate her again and again for many years to come. She would become known as Ophelia the God-Mother as a whole new race of demigods sprang forth into the world.
Finally sated, the gang of swans, one by one, dropped back into the water and began to swim away, silently, until only the largest and most magnificent of the beasts remained, the Lord of the Gods, Zeus himself. Ophelia lay in a heap on the swimming platform, spattered in cum, with more cum oozing from every every orifice.
"Farewell, fair Ophelia," Ophelia heard in her addled young mind. "Rejoice in the service you have provided to your gods. And give my best to your mother, sweet child, I remember her well." With that Zeus leaped into the water, swam to the head of the wedge and the seven swans swam quickly away, fading into the mist.
Six: Sexy Geese A-Laying by NoOneInteresting
It was strange just how quickly an institution, about which most people never spared a second—or even a first—thought, could become the center of controversy and the talk of the town. Ann Davis Middle School (“Home of the Fighting Geese”) had been just another quiet little middle school in a quiet little town until that fateful Christmas.
At the beginning of the school year, try-outs were held for the six seventh grade cheerleader spots. Once the girls were chosen, Kathy, the self appointed leader, had invited all of the girls to her house that Friday for a double sleepover weekend. It had taken a fair bit of convincing in some cases, but in the end, all of the girls were able to attend.
The night of the big sleepover arrived and all the girls were having fun, being giggly, gossiping, just generally being typical 11 and 12 year old girls.
At least, until He arrived.
When Kathy's mother opened the door upon hearing the doorbell, she wasn't expecting to see a handsome stranger standing there. That was the last thing she thought of, however, as her eyes went blank and she opened the door for the man. Once he'd stepped inside, she closed the door, then went to her bedroom and fell asleep. She failed to wake up until Sunday afternoon.
The stranger made his way through the house, till he found the girls down in the rec room basement. The girls looked at him curiously until he stood at the bottom of the stairs. Then, as one, they sprinted over to kneel at his feet.
“How may we serve you, Master,” they said as one.
He looked from girl to girl, as though appraising them. He then touched the girl on his far right, placing his hand on her shoulder. She shuddered in orgasm and collapsed, twitching, moaning and smiling. He touched the next girl in line the same way. She too fell to the floor after a huge climax. He then touched the third with the same result. The fourth girl, however, doubled over, clutching her stomach as though in pain. It seemed to last for a few moments, then he touched her shoulder again and she reacted as the first three girls had. The fifth girl came and collapsed, but the sixth girl doubled over in pain and was touched again before cumming and collapsing.
He then made his way over to a couch, where he sat and watched as the girls slowly recovered. It took quite some time as one of the things his touch had done was make them incredibly sensitive—so much so that even their panties touching their pussies drove them to continuous climaxes. Several lust-filled minutes had passed before the girls were able to strip themselves down enough that they could stop cumming. Once they were all at least mostly nude, they kneed their way over to their new master and bowed at his feet.
“Thank you, Master,” they said as they arrived. “Please use us.”
He stood and had the girls strip him, then he selected the first girl that had doubled over in pain and had her sit on the couch next to him. He took her by the waist and swung her around so that she straddled him, impaling her oh-so-sensitive cunt on his rock hard shaft. She came instantly and continued cumming as he bounced her up and down, fucking her for the first time. Her orgasms actually became more intense as the sex went on until the point that he slammed her down on his cock and emptied himself in her. She collapsed against him, still twitching in the massive afterglow of truly mind blowing sex. He let her rest there for a few minutes as his seed soaked into the girl, seeking her first egg.
His touch hadn't only made them super sensitive. The primary reason for it was to force ovulation, ensuring that they were fertile and their eggs would be receptive to his seed. The two that had doubled over in pain hadn't actually been far enough into puberty to be able to ovulate; his second touch had fixed that problem. That was why he'd chosen her to be his first—there was something extra erotic to him about the idea of causing a girl to become pregnant during her first ovulation and before she'd ever had a period.
One by one, he had the girls come to him and fuck him. He fucked them it every position he could think of. Just as he could alter the bodies of the girls, he had long ago modified his own body to be able to stay hard indefinitely and to produce potent cum when necessary. As a consequence, he'd fucked all six of them several times that night before falling asleep in the middle of a pile of sexy, fucked out, cum dribbling preteens.
He spent the next day fucking them too. And he fucked them all one last time before leaving on Sunday morning. By that time, even the girls had lost track of how many times they'd had sex.
After the sleepover, life seemed to go back to normal. Well, mostly. The cheerleaders all refused to wear anything but skirts and dresses. And they never wore panties. Any cloth up against their little cunts caused them to go into spontaneous, continual orgasms. Which might be fun for a while, but meant they couldn't really function at school or anywhere else.
Now hearing the story, one might think that six middle school cheerleaders involved in a weekend-long orgy would be the event that sparked the controversy. But seeing as how Kathy's mother was completely unaware that it had happened, and none of the girls had talked about it—even to each other—word of the debauchery never got out.
Even stranger, the fact that the girls began practicing their routines, not in work-out clothes, but in the buff, and right there on school grounds were anyone could see them, didn't ignite any controversy either. It was as though no one noticed them, even when they were blatant about it, calling out and waving at teachers and staff that passed by.
The girls' gym teacher, who'd been responsible for ordering their uniforms actually feared for her job when the uniforms arrived. She'd handed them out without so much as looking at them. The next day, all six girls had come to school wearing their new outfits. They had dark red skirts which were just long enough to hide their little peach-fuzz covered mounds but not long enough to completely cover their bare asses. There were no shorts or built-in panties, so the girls would be flashing cunt and ass every time they jumped or high-kicked or even moved suddenly. Their tops were red with blue and white stripes down the sleeves. “DAVIS MS” was emblazoned across the back and the “GEESE” on the front, both in blue and outlined in white. Where the tops differed from normal cheerleader tops was that they covered only the girls' arms and shoulders; they ended an inch or two above the girls' nipples, completely exposing backs, chests and bellies.
Despite the gym teacher's fears, however, the response to the uniforms was mostly positive. Sure they drew some raised eyebrows, but no one complained.
For months the girls practiced naked and cheered mostly so. And still, no one said much of anything.
The controversy had started after Christmas, when the girls returned to school after winter break and people could no longer deny that all six little preteens were pregnant. Their naked practices (which now took place in the gym due to the weather) and oh-so-brief uniform tops serving only to highlight their knocked-up state.
Demands were made to the school to replace them all. “They should be role models for the other children!” “All that jumping around and kicking will hurt the babies!” “What if one of them falls?” “It's irresponsible of the girls and irresponsible of the school!” “They's sexy things, ain't they?”
Well, that last one might not have been a complaint.
But despite it all, the staff told everyone their hands were tied. They'd checked and checked again and there were simply no rules against cheerleaders being pregnant. And since they'd done nothing wrong, they couldn't be removed from the squad for no reason. Especially since all six would have to be removed, and then they simply would have no seventh grade squad.
So time went on and naked practices continued and sexy routines were performed and bellies swelled, until that day early in June, when six waters broke within an hour of each other.
All six Fighting Geese cheerleaders were taken to the hospital. The hospital had never seen anything like it before. Six 12 and 13 year old girls (all wearing the same cheer uniform top) gave birth to six perfect baby girls. The uniform tops turned out to be handy as they didn't even have to raise them to let the babies suckle at small but firm, milk-laden breasts.
At the girls' insistence that they all be together, they were moved into a large room for the duration of their stay.
It was Carly, the youngest of the group who, while nursing her daughter Clara, had said “With our uniform tops, it's like that Christmas song. Six geese a-laying.”
“Sexy geese a-laying, maybe,” responded Anne, holding her daughter Melody. The other girls all laughed quietly so as not to wake the babies that were sleeping.
Three months later, try-outs for the eighth grade squad took place. At first the girls thought it odd that only the six former members of the seventh grade squad had showed up. They wouldn't find out till later that any other girl who'd wanted to try out had not been allowed to. It seemed their parents feared that the same thing would happen to their young daughters.
So the eighth grade squad just accepted the fact that they would all be together again.
It was only natural to celebrate it with a sleep over at Karen's house. No one was surprised when their Master showed up again. And after another weekend of debauchery which left six slightly more mature pussies overflowing with cum, their Master left. This time, however, he didn't leave alone. He took all the babies with him. The eighth grade cheerleaders knew they were going to miss Rose, Martha, Donna, Melody, Amy and Clara, but somehow they knew that their little girls would be all right and that they would soon have little sisters. And they also somehow knew that they'd see their daughters again. Until then, they would just have to practice and cheer and show off their young, developing and pregnant bodies.
Five: Five Golden Rings by Willobee Goode
Five friends from the Barnum Middle School walked into the Old Country Jewelry store. The quintet who comprised the starting lineup of the school's girls basketball team strolled over to the counter. Captain Dotty Dunkerstein hem-hemmed until the mousy man in the ill-fitting suit approached them.
"May I help you?" he said.
"We are looking for something to commemorate our victory over Bailey Middle School," said Dotty. "The first victory in the last twelve tries."
"I suppose you are too young for tattoos. Well, I have some nice silver lockets in the shape of a heart." The girls shook their heads. "Well, there is always the silver bracelet with the basketball charm." Again, the girls disapproved non-verbally. "It also can be worn as an ankle bracelet." That just brought disapproving stares "What about the silver basketball charm on a dainty silver chain?"
"Why don't you mention the five gold rings in the glass case over there?" asked Pistol Patty Pulaski, their top outside shooter.
"I thought they would be out of your … price range."
"How much?" asked Timber Terri Turansky, the star center.
"Um, we usually sell each for four hundred dollars, but…"
"We'll take them," said Dotty. The girls pulled out their wallets and placed stacks of bills on the glass. Reluctantly, the man retrieved the set of five rings and scooped up the money.
Each girl found a ring that fit and smiling the team left the store.
"They'll be back," muttered the man as he rifled through his payment.
That night the five girls met at Cuddly Cathy Cominski's house for their pre-Christmas tournament slumber party. Cathy's parents were the most lenient of the potential hosts and provided the best snacks.
After a pizza dinner and the expected nail polishing exercise, the girls began their night in earnest. "Let's tell ghost stories," said Kamikaze Kimmy Kravitz, the reckless yet successful guard.
"You just want to scare us out of our panties," said Patti.
"And what's wrong with that?" Kimmy asked back.
"There's always Truth or Dare," said Cathy.
"We always do that," said Terri. "We need something different."
Dotty took off her ring and looked at the inside surface. "Can anyone make out the writing in theirs?"
The others examined their keepsakes before shaking their heads. "We need a big magnifying glass," said Cathy. "We don't have one. Sorry."
Terri walked over to Cathy's wooden desk and spun her ring on the bare surface. "Let's see who can spin their ring the longest."
"We have nothing better planned," said Kimmy as she spun hers. The others followed suit. As the rings spun, the girls watched, their eyes beginning to glaze over as the spinning continued until…
"Girls, wake up," said Cathy's mother as she pounded on the bedroom door.
"Too early," said her daughter as she rolled over. "EEEEKE." She screamed.
"What?" said Dotty.
"I'm naked," said Cathy. "We all are."
"Really?" asked Kimmy as she pulled her mouth away from Terri's very red pussy. "I don't remember any of this. And do I wish I had."
"Where are our clothes?" asked Patti as she searched the room. Only Cathy's clean clothes in the dresser and the closet could be found.
"Very funny," said Terri. "You can fit into Cathy's clothes, but I can't."
Another knock came at the door. "Come on girls," said Cathy's mother. "Get some food so you won't be late for your game."
"Let's go eat," said Dotty.
"This way?" asked Patti.
"Sure. It'll just be in front of Cathy's mom. We'll figure it out afterwards."
The five friends marched out of the room, stark naked except for the gold band on each girl's hand.
Downstairs, Cathy said, "Hi Mom. We're ready for breakfast."
"Here you are, dear. My, you look beautiful in your new uniforms."
The girls exchanged glances, several of them. Perhaps they weren't really naked. Cathy's mother wouldn't lie to them.
After breakfast, Dotty stood up. "We wasted too much time. Let's head over to the game and worry about the missing clothes later."
The other girls agreed with their captain and piled into the Cominski minivan.
At the game, the girls played their best, whipping their opponent by fifteen points. No one, not even the coach or their parents, mentioned the new uniforms, or lack thereof.
The girls sat around waiting for their second game in the locker room. Between strategy and gossip, the girls kept themselves occupied. When the time came, they played the second game, winning this one only by seven. They would play for the championship the next day.
As they left, Dotty noticed the man from the jewelry store waiting outside. "What do you want?" she asked.
"I like the new uniforms," he said. "You must be under the influence of my rings. Tonight you will enjoy your last night together before you lose at the tournament tomorrow." With that he disappeared.
The girls appeared confused but piled into the minivan anyway without another word.
During the second night, the girls began doing the dares without actually playing the game. They kissed each other on the lips, massaged one another's small tits, did butterfly kisses down the firm bellies, and even licked the nether lips of their teammate. Each experienced multiple orgasms from various partners that lasted into the wee hours of the morning.
When they arrived to play the game, they were exhausted. Any energy they might have stored up went with their latest cum. Their listless performance doomed their chance of winning, though the second-place trophy soothed their tired bodies.
After the game, the quintet again entered the jewelry store. "We're here to exchange these rings," said Dotty.
"I'm sorry," said the man. "No exchanges on cursed items. Especially once you've come under the spell, if you pardon the bad pun. I'm sorry, but you're stuck."
The girls tried to pull the rings from their fingers, but found them literally stuck. "What do we do now?" asked Dotty.
"I suppose you'll live your life. There's no need to think about clothes, the ring won't allow you to wear them. There's no reason to think about boys, because the ring will be jealous. You may find yourself alone together forever. As far as I know, I am the only one who sees your true self. If you ever want a baby, you'll have to see me."
Almost in tears the girls left the store, vowing never to return.
When the door closed, the man pulled out a display mount from a secret drawer. Another five rings glistened in the glass case.
"There's a sucker born every minute," he mumbled. "Perhaps next time, I'll get them to service my cock."
Four: Santa Claus and the Four Colly Birds by Alvo Torelli
Santa Claus, incognito today as Lucas Astana, settled into his beach chair and took a sip from an ice cold long-neck Red Stripe. He sighed contentedly and pulled his sunglasses farther down his nose to better look over them and search the beach and the poolside for a possible companion or two for his annual fortnight Jamaican vacation. Seeing none, he settled back and closed his eyes for a well-deserved rest. Something would come along, it always did. It was only the 28th of December after all, the first day of his vacation.
With his beard shaved off, his eyebrows trimmed and his flowing mane of silver hair cut short, Santa could easily pass for a handsome man of forty. He wasn't half so portly as everyone assumed - that was just padding and the damned suit. He was a large man, but muscular and fit. In bathing trunks and t-shirt, hardly anyone in the world would recognize Lucas Astan as the Jolly Christmas Elf, St. Nicholas, Pere Noel, or by any of the hundreds of other names he went by around the world. Really, the only tell-tale sign was his complete and total lack of any tan. He was the whitest of whites. The North Pole is not the best place to get a tan.
It was wonderful to be sitting on a warm Jamaican beach in the shade of a cabana, beer in hand, a cooling breeze making the temperature just perfect. Two weeks of paradise to prepare for another year getting ready for another Christmas. And of course it wasn't just a vacation - it was a very necessary part of the magic of Christmas. No man, even Santa, could be good every day of the year. Every man's naughty side needed to see the light of day now and then, even if it was only for two weeks.
Santa jerked awake, startled, and opened his eyes to the prettiest, sweetest face. A little girl had climbed right up into his lap and she stared at him with huge eyes set into a lovely dark face. "Well, hello," Santa said to the little black child in his lap. Lap climbing was an occupational hazard when you were the Jolly Fat Man. Even if you weren't really fat.
The wide-eyed child continued to stare, then blurted out, "Do I know you?"
"No Aiesha, you don't," Santa replied to the gorgeous black eight-year-old.
Aiesha's eyes went even wider. "How'd you know my name?" She didn't seem to notice Santa's hand on her bikini-clad ass.
"I just did, Aiesha. Did you like your Barbie?" Santa pulled Aiesha closer, cradling her little body and stroking her leg.
Aiesha gasped. If her eyes got any bigger they were going to pop out of her head. "How did you know that?"
"Oh my god, there you are!" said a pretty teen girl, running up the beach. "Aiesha, what you doin' in that man's lap? Did he say you could climb up there you naughty child?"
"It's okay, Marley," Santa said to Aiesha's fourteen-year-old sister. "Aiesha's fine. We were just talking about her new Barbie. Hey, did you like your new iPad? And that cute outfit - the one with the purple skirt, have you worn that out yet? I bet the boys are going to go crazy when you wear it."
Marley stood slack-jawed staring at the strange man who was holding her little sister in his lap. She didn't seem to notice that his hand had strayed inside the back of Aiesha's bikini bottoms, or that his fingers had pushed between her dark thighs to stroke the smooth little mound of her vulva. "Wh-Wh, I mean, how-how-how did you know, I mean, ah?" Marley didn't seem to be able to quite manage a coherent sentence.
Santa looked the fourteen-year-old up and down, enjoying what he saw very much. Her dark red bikini was striking against her beautiful ebony skin and she had really grown into her curves. Her breasts were mellon-sized and perfectly formed. Santa was sure she'd be very popular in her middle school with such wonderfully formed breasts. He smiled at the tongue-tied teenager and pushed his fingers deeper between Aiesha's little pussy lips, stroking her just right to start getting her wet and aroused. 'Yes, these two would do just fine,' he thought to himself, 'just fine.' It was going to a very nice vacation.
Just then, two gorgeous little girls in matching blue bikinis rounded the boat house and pounded up the beach, landing in a heaving heap at the feet of Marley. "Marley, where'd you go, girl?" said one of the girls.
"We be looking everywhere for you, Marley!" the other child said accusingly.
"Hello Jada, hello Zara," Santa said to the twin black beauties, addressing each of the ten-year-old twins by the correct name. Their jaws dropped and they quickly turned to gape at him. "Your cousins and I were just getting acquainted. Marley was going to tell me about her presents, but hey - you two got new bikes, didn't you? Are they fun to ride?"
Jada and Zara, still gaping, immediately climbed up onto the big lounge chair with the strange man who was fondling their little cousin. But they took no notice of the way Aiesha was panting and moaning as she clutched at the man's t-shirt. Jada sidled up to the man's other side and let him put his arm around her thin waist. Zara, forward little beast that she was, took her place straddling the man's legs. Even Marley, feeling awkward, sat at the foot of the man's chair. It was Zara who finally broke the silence by asking, "How'd you know all that 'bout us, mister? And what's your name?"
"You can call me Lucas, Zara, or Mr. Astan, if you prefer. That's my name here, today, Lucas Astan. My but you're a pretty little thing Zara - and you too Jada." The twins beamed big smiles at the compliment from the nice man. They were both missing the same tooth on the left side. None of the children paid any attention to the frantic grunts and groans little Aiesha was making as she writhed in the man's arm, tearing at his shirt and gripping his hand between her legs with all her strength.
"Ohhhh, ohhhh, ohhhh!!" Aiesha moaned as her orgasm peaked and her tiny body quivered from head to toe.
"Well now," said Santa/Lucas, "isn't this just lovely - a quartet of pretty little birds to help me enjoy my vacation to the fullest. But so many tight little things to play with and me with only the one long magic wand. Hmm. I guess we'll need some toys to help us out, won't we girls?"
"Toys?" Zara and Jada said in the same exited breath.
"Oh, Mr. Astan, those two love toys," Marley said. "You shouldn't tease them about toys."
"Ah, Marley, my sweet girl, I have every intention of teasing them, more than you can imagine! And don't you worry, my pets," he said looking to Zara and Jada, "I'm very good with toys, toys of all kinds - it's sort of my specialty!" As he spoke, Lucas leaned forward and handed a now-sleeping Aiesha into the arms of her sister Marley, who smiled, rose and put the sleeping girl into the second lounge chair.
"So, you like toys do you?" Lucas said to the twin cuties, pulling them both close to his chest and fondling their cute round butts. As he played with the twins, Marley began to carefully lower the curtains on all four sides of the private cabana, leaving the group in golden muted sunlight. "I am rather an expert at toys, if I say so myself," Lucas crooned, pulling at various strings on various pieces of bikinis. "And I know how to make toys, I do. I can make toys out of almost anything."
By the time Marley finished the curtains and returned to the lounge chair the twins had been relieved of their bikinis and Lucas was patiently using the bikini tops to tie their arms behind their backs. It wasn't like he needed to tie them up, he was just rather fond of the way it looked. "There," Lucas said to the twins, "don't your bikinis make nice toys?" The two bound ten-year-olds gave him big smiles and snuggled up against his sides.
Marley smiled at the sight of her twin, bound cousins in the arms of the lovely man. It was nice how he was rubbing their little nipples! She untied the top to her bikini, freeing her lovely breasts, and dropped the bikini top at the man's feet. She was responsible for the twins, along with her little sister, and she took her job very seriously. Marley's bikini bottoms slid slowly down her long shapely legs and she stepped out of them, revealing the small patch of dark hair above her excited young pussy. She'd hate to see anything bad happen to any of her charges. It seemed so lucky that they'd found such a nice man to spend time with. She liked the way he was fondling her wide-eyed cousins and the way their dark skin looked so pretty against his pale white. And he certainly knew how tie a girl's arms securely. Why, the twins could barely move their arms at all! They were all so lucky.
Lucas Astan stood and slowly relieved himself of his swim trunks. His erection was huge. Sweet teenager Marley stood with her back to him and he reached around to fondle her gorgeous breasts, making her gasp and quiver when he pinched the dark nipples. Lucas pondered how best to use the multitude of gifts that had been laid before him - the buxom and fecund Marley, the gorgeous twins Zara and Jada, now kneeling in front of him with big expectant eyes, and best of all the adorable little eight-year-old Aiesha.
Yes, Lucas thought, he would require some toys to help keep his quartet of little colly birds entertained - some real rope, some vibrators, a strap-on or two, some gags and collars. Wouldn't it be amusing to see the little twins Zara and Jada with tails? Imagine sweet Aiesha being led around on a leash.
He could, of course, find plenty of help keeping his bevy of girls occupied. There were many middle-aged American men who'd be happy, under his control, to take a few hours off from their golf vacations. Too bad they wouldn't remember any of it. But for now, Lucas was content to play with his new toys alone. There was plenty of time - two whole weeks - to let his imagination run wild.
Marley knelt on the sand and her little sister Aiesha came to her. It was just a moments work to help Aiesha out of her black bikini and tie her wrists behind her back with the stringy top piece. Aiesha smiled over her shoulder at her big sister's loving attention and then watched with fascination as the nice man bound Marley's arms behind her back too.
The four children gathered together on their knees, pressed close together. One by one they each took the huge erect cock into their little mouths and bobbed their heads expertly, as if they'd done this many times. Lucas/Santa was thrilled at his collection of sweet innocent babes, and when he finally began to spew his hot magical cum he had plenty to go around. Rope after stringy rope arced out and completely covered the pretty black faces turned up to him, smiling and beaming with pleasure.
One by one, Marley, then Zara, then Jada and finally little Aiesha, each child allowed Lucas to clean her face with her own bikini bottoms, and then opened her mouth wide to let him gag her with the sopping fabric. Their cheeks pouched out and their noses flared as they worked to breath.
Leading his bevy of colly birds like ducklings behind their mother, Lucas Astan, Old St. Nick, the Jolly Fat Man, Babbo Natale, walked through the crowded lobby of the resort. No one took any notice of the four bound and naked children, but two hotel clerks and a rather large American businessman silently fell in line behind the girls. Lucas paused for several minutes at the concierge desk to leave lengthy instructions for the supplies he required. He fondled Marley's lovely breasts as he talked to the girl behind the desk, who nodded seriously at each new outrageous request. Then Lucas and his growing entourage headed to the elevator that would take them to his luxury suite.
Yes, it was going to be a lovely, lovely vacation.
Three: Trois Petite Filles Française by NoOneInteresting
“That's two-four in the back,” drawled the auctioneer, thrusting his gavel in the direction of the back of the room. “Two-four. Do I have a two-five? Two-five? Yes?”
A weedy looking man sitting behind a table on the side of the room with a telephone receiver at his ear raised a paddle.
“Two-five!” the auctioneer said. “Two-five on the phone. Do I hear two-six? Two-six? Anyone? Two-six for a fine specimen! Yes? Two-six?”
Back-of-the-room raised his paddle again.
“Ah!” said the auctioneer. “Two-six again in the back. Two-six. Do I have a two-seven? Two seven? Yes? On the phone?” Weedy phone man shook his head. “Two-seven? Anyone? Two-seven? No? OK, that's two-six, going once. Two-six going twice.” He paused and scanned the room, but all that answered him was the quiet rustle of bidders attempting to be silent. “Three times!” Another quick scan. “Sold! To paddle 248 in the back for two point six million.”
The hall filled with the usual between-lot murmuring as a brown-haired, naked little stick-figure of a girl had her wrist-cuffs reattached to their chains before being unceremoniously dragged off the platform.
Arthur had thought she was cute, but certainly not worth what the man in back had paid for her. Sure, he'd bid until the price had hit nearly two million, but that was really just driving the price up for a bit of fun. Besides, he was here for something even more special. And his target should be next.
“And now,” announced the auctioneer, once the last girl had been removed. “Lot number 72.” There was a bit of commotion as three small girls were hauled onto the platform. They were made to stand next to each other.
“We have for you, in this lot, a very special group of girls. These three are sisters. Originally from Marseille, France!” The auctioneer took a microphone and shoved it into the face of the tallest girl. She then spouted out the line she'd been forced to memorize.
“Bonjour, je m'appelle Gabrielle. J'ai neuf ans.”
The microphone was then presented to the next girl.
“Bonjour, je m'appelle Michelle. J'ai huit ans.”
He then pushed the microphone into the face of the last girl.
“Bonjour, j'ai six ans. Je m'appelle Antoinette.”
For those of you who don't speak French, the oldest is Gabrielle at 9, then Michelle at 8 and little Antoinette at 6.
All three girls were, of course, still dirty, even after the cursory scrub down all the girls were given before the auction. All three shared the same blond, dirty hair. Gabrielle's was long and stringy looking. Michelle's was shorter, possibly a pixie-cut, it was difficult to tell. And Antoinette's was shorter still and stuck up all over as though it had rarely, if ever, seen a comb.
The auctioneer addressed the girls. “Begin,” he said simply.
The three girls began working at their clothes, unbuttoning buttons, unfastening pants, loosening belts and untying shoes. The youngest giggled a bit, possibly thinking it was some kind of game. But the oldest tried fighting as her hands betrayed her, but merely settled for weeping as she proved unable to cease her undressing. Such was the nature of the control cuffs on their wrists.
The auctioneer had returned to the lectern. “At the request of the seller, all three girls are being sold together. There is, of course the usual, verifiable medical report certifying their virginal status and lack of any disease, communicable or otherwise. Bidding will start at two million. Do I hear two?”
The bidding started, with paddles being raised both on the floor and from the men manning the array of phones. Arthur ignored it all. He was going to buy these girls, of course, but there was no sense in driving up the price too early. Let the little fish wear themselves out. Instead, he studied the girls.
Gabrielle was the tallest of the three, but given their ages (if they were indeed their correct ages) all three girls were rather short. Gabrielle looked to be just over four feet, perhaps four foot two. Michelle looked to be a good four inches shorter. And little Antoinette couldn't have been even three and a half feet. He watched, enraptured, as their cuffs forced them to finish stripping off all their clothes. The discarded garments were then whisked away and disposed of. The clothes never sold with the girl. The only reason the girls came out clothed at all was simple showmanship: forcing the girls to expose themselves against their wishes tended to drive the prices up.
It was not easy to tell with their dirty faces, but all three of them seemed to have angular jawlines and sharp cheekbones. Despite their young age, none of them had any appreciable baby fat on them; their legs and arms were skinny, their sexes sharply defined and their ribs plainly visible, even from Arthur's distance. He couldn't tell which teeth were milk, missing or adult since none of them smiled, but that didn't really matter.
Gabrielle stood with her head bowed as low as they would allow her and wept. Next to her, Michelle just seemed nervous and kept looking at her older sister as though unsure what to do. Antoinette simply looked curiously around the room, likely unaware of the gravity of the proceedings and what they meant for her.
Arthur reaffirmed his desire. He would have these girls.
In time, the bidding began to slow and bidders dropped out as the price became too high for them. Finally, the auctioneer began fishing for bids. That was Arthur's cue.
“Four-eight,” said the auctioneer. “Do I have a four-nine? Four-nine? Anyone?”
For the first time, Arthur raised his paddle.
“Four-nine in the front!” exclaimed the auctioneer, seemingly excited that a new bidder had joined in. “Four-nine, do I have five?”
There was a hesitation before the man that had bid 4.8 million raised his paddle again.
“Five,” said the auctioneer. “The bidding is now at five million! Do I hear five-one?”
Arthur looked over at his competition, sizing the man up. In the moment that he stared, he sensed fear and trepidation. Time to shut the man down.
Arthur raised his paddle again as he called out in a strong, steady voice, “Six!”
The auctioneer rhythm actually stuttered. “Uh, six! Six million for these three lovely young French girls. Do I hear six-one?”
There was silence; it was as though the air had been sucked out of the hall.
“Six million going once, going twice! Sold for six million even, to paddle 027.”
Again, the hall erupted in its usual murmuring, but Arthur heard none of it as he watched the three girls chained up and hauled away.
“Next up,” the auctioneer began again, “lot number 73.”
Arthur wasn't listening. The one and only item he'd come for done, he stood and headed for the door to the hall.
Down the corridor to the elevators he walked. Then down to the ground floor and pick-up. He entered the nondescript door and stepped up to the counter.
“Paddle?” asked the young girl behind the counter. She was nude, of course, wearing only her control cuffs. She appeared to be in her mid-teens, too old for his tastes, and, since she was working here, apparently not up to anyone's tastes.
“027,” he said, handing her said paddle.
She took the paddle and wanded the base of the handle. The computer beeped, the display changing to his information.
“Lot number 72, six million dollars. Correct?”
He nodded.
“Would you like to purchase the optional collars? They're $1,250 each.”
“Yes, but I'll put them on.”
“Of course,” she said. She entered the information. “That's $6,003,750.”
He swiped his ident card over the terminal and pressed his thumb to the screen.
The door to his left opened and another nude teen girl entered with a chain in her hand. Farther down the chain were his three new girls. He took the collars that the girl behind the counter handed him and separated out the smallest one. He approached the girls and knelt in front of them.
“Hello, girls,” he said. “Can you understand me?”
The girls simply looked at him and at each other with confused looks on their faces.
Oh, well. No matter. They didn't need to know English to do their new jobs. And they would learn in time. He clamped the smallest collar around the neck of little Antoinette, then uncliped her cuffs from the chain. She smiled beatifically at him and practically leaped on him, wrapping her wiry little legs around him. She stood up, smiling at her, cupping her small naked ass with his hand. The remaining two watched with wide eyes, as Antoinette slowly began to grind her crotch against his side, moaning and burying her face in his chest as the all new sensations of pleasure began to wash over her.
He took the chain from the teen girl, who exited back through the door. He looked down at two of his new charges and dredged up some of the miniscule amount of French he knew. “Veine. Allons-y.”
The two girls tore their eyes from their little sister who was thoroughly into the process of working herself up to her first orgasm, humping against her new master's side. Though he wasn't sure he'd said it right and his accent was likely terrible, they seemed to understand and followed him as he turned to go.
They were young. They were beautiful. And they were his. And he was going to have so much fun teaching them so many new and exciting things. Communication was the least of his worries.
Two: My Two Turtledoves by Willobee Goode
Charlotte Pott, known to her friends as Charlie, walked down the city street with her Grandpa Joe. They were the only ones in her family that December morning that had gotten out of their bed. Normally, Grandpa Joe would have remained there with the other grandparents, but the preteen girl had discovered a coupon in her chocolate bar. No, it wasn't for a chocolate factory tour; that would be just silly. No, this was for one free pet from Willy Wacker's Wilder and Wackier Magical Mystical Pet Store.
Charlie and Grandpa Joe walked from the old, downtrodden portion of the poorest, demoralized area in the city toward a more affluent area. Charlie was more and more amazed at how much brighter the buildings were with each step she took. She was more used to the dull grays and blacks around her environment. Even her clothes were two tones of gray, a dark charcoal tanktop and her favorite light gray miniskirt. Both were a size smaller than her body measurements, but when you purchase your wardrobe from the thrift store, you can't be picky.
As they approached the store, a long red limousine came screaming in from the other direction. Screeching to a stop, a tall driver hopped out and opened the door. Out popped a girl ensconced in a full-length red fox fur coat, followed by a harried man in a tan trench coat. He kept his lapels over his face to hide his identity, that of Saul T. Pepper, the multi-zillionaire.
Charlie reached for the store door handle, just as the furry girl yelled, "I want to be first. Daddy, make them wait for me."
Charlie stepped back and let the other girl enter. Once inside, the fur coat fell off the girl's shoulders, making the rich man scramble to catch it. The preteen who emerged, dressed in a clingy red polyester mini-dress over her white tights, flitted down the aisles.
Aside from the typical food and accessories, the aisles had animals in cages and behind glass windows. Not just dogs and cats, but fish and reptiles, and amphibians and fish and odd mammals. Most were common, but the sign also noted a jackalope, a pair of keets, and some crocagators among others.
With Grandpa Joe in tow, Charlie marched to the counter in the back. There sat a man on a very high stool reading a tiny book. He was dressed in a lilac-colored waistcoat and plaid bowtie and under a magenta and yellow striped top hat. "I have a coupon," said the girl while she held the paper out.
The man pointed at a sign that said, "Pick your animal and take purchase to the counter before bothering the store owner. Ask no questions until you know the answer."
Charlie stared at Grandpa Joe and then the strange man. Behind the counter, she spied a birdcage with two turtledoves inside. The birds cooed at each other. "I'll take one of those."
Before the man could respond, the other girl appeared. "Daddy, I want a turtledove first," she said, shoving her way past Charlie.
"Who do we have here?" asked the strange man as he put his tiny book down.
"I'm Veruca Pepper," said the red-clad girl.
"I'm Charlie," said the other.
"That's a funny name for a girl," said Veruca.
"Well, Veruca is a funny name for anyone."
The girls traded dirty looks before turning to the counter. "I want a turtledove," they said together.
"I can only sell them as a pair," said the man. "Otherwise, they will pine away for the other and die."
"I only want one," said Veruca.
"I only have a coupon for one," said Charlie.
They argued for the next ten minutes. Finally, Grandpa Joe asked, "How long do the birds have to live together before they can be separated."
"At least a week," said the man. "By then they should imprint with their owner."
"What if the girls took the birds and stayed together for the week?" asked Grandpa Joe.
The girls glared at the old man, then the birds, and finally each other.
"Yes, yes it might work," said the proprietor. "The girls would need to care for the turtledoves for a whole week. Then they could separate the love birds."
Grudgingly, the girls agreed. "I don't want to move into her home," said Veruca.
"I wouldn't mind," said Charlie meekly.
"And to help the birds mature," said the strange man, "I have a special treat. Snozzberry juice."
"There's no such thing as snozzberries," said Veruca.
"Sorry," he said, rubbing his ear. "I'm a bit deaf in that ear. At least I think it was that ear." He retrieved a wooden box from behind the counter and handed it to Charlie. "Go ahead and open it."
Inside seven plastic cylinders about a foot long tapered at one end and were topped with a large rubber bulb. "It's just turkey basters," said Veruca.
"Not just turkey basters, but turkey basters filled with a wonderful fluid that helps the birds grow." He bent closer to the girls. "It can be used for other purposes, but remember that spit makes it work better."
With turtledoves in hand and written care instructions to use, the girls jumped into the limo and left the area. Grandpa Joe stood next to the strange man. "What do you expect to happen?"
"I expect the birds will survive, but there is no telling about the girls."
At the Pepper mansion, Charlie moved into Veruca's room, allowing the girls to be in view of the birds. Veruca bossed her guest around, making Charlie strip out of her clothes and don older but more colorful garments barely bigger than a swimsuit. They worked together to feed and care for the birds. That included an hourly gob of snozzberry juice for each turtledove.
Charlie snuck a dollop of the goo and tried rubbing it on her flat chest. She grew tired of Veruca flaunting her inch high boobies. She was first developing them at her school.
The instructions required the turtledove receive a serving at midnight. Veruca assigned her guest that task. After the girl woke and squirted out the gob, she noted the amount of juice still in the applicator. Her gaze noted the snoring Veruca and a plan formed in her sleepy mind.
Charlie sat by her host and pulled her panties to the side. After licking her fingers, she started to explore Veruca's slit. They slipped in, not finding a barrier. Veruca probably would brag about being the first to lose her virginity.
With the impediment taken care of, Charlie inserted the snozzberry juice applicator into the hole. She worked it inside, the snoring of Veruca continued unabated. With it fully inserted, she squeezed the bulb, sending the goo into her host. With a smile on her face, she extracted the now-empty tube.
With her plan complete, the girl headed back to sleep, her revenge served cold.
The next two days and nights could have been described as déjà vu. During the day, Veruca controlled her guest while at night Charlie had her revenge. Her host never woke during the infiltration. The third began as usual, but the night session had a twist. Instead of inserting and heading to bed, this time the curiosity about Veruca's physiology got the best of her. Charlie saved a glob for the exposed clit. She decided to add a bit of saliva. Her tongue activated the nerves, waking Veruca from a very horny dream.
The girl grabbed Charlie's head, holding it against her pussy. "Keep kissing me."
"Okay," said the captive girl. Before long Veruca started to shiver and quiver and shake. Then she froze.
Charlie climbed up to be face to face. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Nothing to be sorry about," said a dreamy Veruca. "That was great. I never knew another person could make me feel so good. I…I pushed them all away. All but you."
"You dressed me in such nice clothes. I'd do anything … anything to stay with you."
Veruca stroked Charlie's cheek. "That can be arranged, my little turtledove." And the two kissed on the lips for a long time.
On the seventh day, the red limousine pulled up in front of Willy Wacker's and two girls hopped out. They entered the shop and walked to the counter. There they saw Grandpa Joe talking to the proprietor.
"We would like to return these two birds," said Veruca, putting the cage on the counter.
"For what reason?" asked Willy.
"We have too many now," said Charlie. She now sported a black choker.
"She is my turtledove," said Veruca, "and she has me as hers. Like those in the cage, we never want to be parted again."
"Grandpa Joe," Charlie said looking at the old man. "I…I want to stay with the Peppers."
"Of course," he said. "They can offer you so much more than us. Just don't forget us."
"I won't," she said giving him a hug. Then she took Veruca's hand, and they walked out the front door.
"Did you notice her glow?" asked Grandpa Joe.
"Yes," said Willy. "I'm sure the snozzberry applicators did the job. And in nine months they'll have a little one. And the world will have to deal with a new Pepper-Pott.
One: Patty in the Pear Tree by UnknownLoliWriter
Patty knew it was a bad thing to do. She'd gotten in trouble several times for sneaking into Ms. Willow's garden. Still Patty was just addicted to the pears that her neighbor grew. Patty felt she could just sit all day in the tree and eat the pears. She didn't even understand why her parents got so mad each time she did it. Ms. Willow repeatedly said that she didn't mind. All Patty's mother would say was that it was for her own safety,
Time slowly passed as Patty ate one pear after another. With each pear Patty felt the fall weather getting warmer and warmer. Every couple of minutes she'd have to remove something to feel cooler. Already she was just down to her panties and Patty figured soon even those would have to go to keep herself cool. She felt odd being almost completely naked, like she should be embarrassed but wasn't.
"Enjoying yourself?" Patty looked down from her branch to see Ms. Willow standing and smiling at her.
"Yeah," Patty answered as she finished off another pear. She felt the heat underneath her panties instantly and didn't think for more than a second as she quickly removed them.
"Well just go ahead and continue to enjoy yourself," Ms. Willow said as she held up some papers, "I need to go see your parents so they can sign these adoption papers. After that I'll have you help me assemble the cage I got for you so we can hang it off that branch."
"That sounds fun," Patty smiled as she grabbed another pear.
"Oh it will be," Ms. Willow said, "I'm going to just love staring at you from my kitchen window every morning. You'll be my special Patty in a pear tree."
