Dollhouse

Dollhouse

By Kris Cherita

This is a stand-alone story that features characters from my otherwise unrelated stories 'It's a Nude Life' and 'Freeforall'; the final scene will make more sense if you've read both stories.

All characters are 18 or over. Comments welcome.

*

"No way are those real," said Barry. "It's a morph or AI or something like that, like so much porn nowadays, or like those chatbots on onlyfans."

Clark shook his head. "Oh, they're real," he said. "I've not only seen them, I've touched them."

"Bullshit."

"Want to bet?" When his friend hesitated, Clark said, "Look, I know you like tits as much as I do. What would it be worth to you to see these, in the flesh, even grope them a little?"

Barry watched the video again, and shook his head. "Then they're prosthetics. Silicon or inflatable or whatever."

"I don't think so, but you're the one doing pre-med. I bet you $200 that once you get up close and personal with them, you'll believe me."

Barry looked at him suspiciously. "You have $200? That's even harder to believe than this video."

"Cruel, but fair," Clark admitted, "but it's my birthday on Friday and my parents sent me cash as a present." He shrugged. "She dances at this strip club I know that caters to the, uh, shall we say 'breast-obsessed'."

"If there was a place like that in town, I'd have heard about it," said Barry. He flatly denied having a big breast fetish, calling it merely a preference or a mild kink, but nearly all of the porn he watched featured titfucking or other forms of breast play. His extremely busty mother had managed a successful lingerie store which specialized in attractive bras up to M-cups, and the house had usually been filled with catalogs from their wholesalers. Her sisters, his aunts, had also been voluptuous, and Barry's own sisters (one older, one younger) both needed bras from their mother's shop. Barry's father had died of a coronary when Barry was 18, and Barry had acquired most of his secret stash of big bust porn, including signed photos of Kitten Natividad and Christy Canyon which he'd brought with him when he started college.

"They're a little way out of town," Clark replied, "and they don't advertise. I gather they have enough rich regulars that they don't really need to, word of mouth brings in enough trade, and the strip club's a legitimate business, but sometimes there's stuff going on in the private rooms that, well... look, where else are you going to get to meet women with tits like these?"

Barry looked at the image on his friend's phone. "How often have you been there?"

"As often as I can afford it, which... isn't all that often. The cover's $100, and that's with a student discount and it just lets you see the show, no touching unless they touch you, but if you sit in the front row, you should be able to tell whether their tits are natural. Interested?"

"$100?"

"That's just the cover, but it lets you watch for as long as you like if that's all you want to do. The really fun stuff happens in the peepshow and the private rooms, so take plenty of cash: they don't accept cards. They have an ATM inside, but you may not want to pay the fees. Saturday nights are insane, no discount and it's still impossible to get a front row seat, so does this Friday suit you, or do you have a date?"

"Well, since it's your birthday... Do you want a lift?"

*

The club had no signage other than an illuminated street number, and from the outside it appeared quite dark. Clark pressed the doorbell, waited a minute, and intoned, "Russ Meyer sent me."

The locked door was opened a moment later by a heavily muscled dark-skinned man, who muttered, "Ha ha," as he looked the two visitors up and down. Clark handed him two fifties and flashed his student ID, and the man nodded before turning to Barry. "You coming in?"

Barry showed his ID and gave him the money, and the bouncer stepped aside to let them enter. "You look like you're new here," he told Barry, then turned to Clark. "Does he know the rules?"

"Have they changed? I don't come here as often as I'd like."

"Okay," said the bouncer. "One hundred, you can see the stage show, stay as long as you like, but don't forget to tip if you're sitting in the front row. Girls will invite you backstage if they like the look of you, but that costs extra. They'll tell you how much. You want some fivers?"

"I'll take twenty," said Clark, as the bouncer stepped behind a desk. The man exchanged the $100 bill for a slim stack, and looked at Barry, who followed suit. He'd been to strip clubs before, and was used to the standard tip being $2, but he knew that the etiquette in each club was slightly different. The bouncer pressed a button and a door slid open, and Clark led Barry inside.

The room they saw seemed to have been converted from an old theatre by building a catwalk from the stage and rearranging the rows of seating around it. There were two women on the catwalk, one of them Asian and already naked but for her pleaser heels, the other blonde and still wearing a latex parody of an old-style nurse's uniform, the tight skirt barely reaching her crotch. She was unzipping this by the time Barry and Clark sat in two front row seats near the end of the catwalk, revealing a pair of enormous breasts in a see-through bra, a lacy white suspender belt holding up her silk stockings, and a g-string that hid almost nothing... though Barry was so fascinated by her gently bouncing boobs, which looked as big as her head, that he barely noticed what she was wearing below the waist. Even when the busty Asian woman bent down to retrieve her clothes and her tips in front of him, her back turned to him to reveal her hairless cunt, he couldn't stop staring at the blonde's hypnotic rack as she sashayed towards him.

The Asian woman bent over to pick up her discarded clothes and her tips, and smiled at Clark from between her legs before walking down the runway to the stage. "Isis to the stage," called the female DJ in the brief gap between songs. Clark nudged Barry and threw a fiver onto the runway, and Barry, slightly dazed, did the same as the blonde slowly approached, pausing occasionally to kick her tips towards the centre of the catwalk while bending over slightly to smile at customers she recognized. She stopped in front of Barry and Clark just as one song ended, and removed her bra as the next began, waving it in front of Barry like a hypnotist's pendulum. Her enormous breasts sagged very slightly, and so did Barry's jaw as he stared them. She giggled as he held out another fiver, and she squeezed her boobs around it, briefly trapping his fingers between them, then turned her attention to Clark. "Nice to see you again," she crooned as she dropped her bra on the runway.

"And you," he replied.

She smiled, then turned her back on the friends, shook her ass for a moment as she dropped the fiver on the catwalk, then bent over backwards to get a closer look at Clark's crotch. "Enjoying the show, I see," she said, then glanced at the erection tenting Barry's jeans. "Catch you both later," she murmured, taking a fiver from Clark's hand before sashaying back up the other end of the stage.

Barry remembered to breathe. "Wow..." he said softly as he stared at the woman's back, hoping she'd turn around again. His years of poring obsessively over lingerie catalogs had made him an expert at guessing women's bra sizes, and the blonde was a 36 or 38 F. Even more impressively, they looked and felt completely natural, but he knew he'd have to get his hands on them again to be sure.

As the song ended, the blonde was joined on the catwalk by a dark-skinned woman wearing a fake fur micro-bikini barely big enough for a half-dozen leopard spots. She was taller and slimmer than the blonde but nearly as busty and just as beautiful, a long-legged Nubian Nefertiti with waist-length cornrows.

"Everyone welcome Isis, our newest attraction!" the DJ called, and the beginning of the next song was drowned out for a moment by applause, whistling, shouting and the stamping of feet, but Barry was so fixated on the blonde that he barely noticed the new arrival. The blonde returned to their end of the stage and undid the snaps on her thong, revealing a neatly trimmed tiny triangle of honey-coloured hair and -- when she squatted with her thighs parted - a delicious-looking champagne-pink cunt. Every man sitting near that end of the catwalk threw at least one fiver down at her feet at that stimulating sight, and even Barry found his attention divided between her bodacious boobs and her captivating cunt. She giggled, and bent down to wave her knockers in front of his face, just out of reach.

"Hi," she said, as he dropped more money on the runway. "Haven't seen you here before. I'm Bonnie. I'm guessing you're a tit man?"

"Um... yes."

"Trust me, honey," she said, "you aint seen nothin' yet." She kicked his notes into the centre of the runway, blew Clark a kiss, then headed back to the other end of the catwalk, changing places with Isis. Barry resisted the urge to reach over to grab her bra from the catwalk floor to check the size, for fear of being accused of trying to steal it and/or her money and being 86ed from the club, maybe even banned for life.

Isis smiled at Clark and Barry before turning her back and focusing her attention on the black and Hispanic men sitting on the other side of the runway. This gave Barry a good look at her magnificent round ass and occasional glimpses of sideboob. Her tits looked just as big as Bonnie's, but slightly more pendulous. The men on the other side of the runway seemed mesmerized by watching them sway, but it didn't stop them from throwing their money at her transparent pleasers.

"What did I say?" said Clark quietly, holding out his hand, palm up.

Barry blinked, and remembered their bet. "They were natural, okay," he admitted. "They looked a bit bigger in the picture, but that might just be the camera angle." He grabbed his phone and the bouncer appeared behind them as though he'd teleported. A little nervously, Barry removed four fifties from the compartment behind his credit cards and handed them to Clark before hastily returning the phone to his pocket.

The bouncer smiled, and Clark handed him half of the cash. "Swap these for fives?"

The DJ announced that it was Bonnie's last song, and called Dixie to the stage. The blonde returned to the end of the catwalk, shaking her gorgeous bare tits and ass for another few minutes before picking up her discarded lingerie and her share of the cash scattered on the runway, bending low with her ass so close to Clark's face that he fantasized about sticking his tongue out and tasting her enticing holes. She turned around and shook her head as though she'd read his mind, then strutted back to the other end of the stage with her loot. Barry watched her walk away, and his eyes widened as a redhead with the biggest boobs he'd ever seen walked in. He stared, everything else in the room forgotten, as she slowly danced the length of the runway towards him. He threw a fiver onto the stage, then two more as she removed her H-cup bra and draped it over his head like a cap. "Hi," she said, then blew him a kiss.

Barry tried to answer, and realized that he was literally speechless as he watched her huge firm natural boobs swaying from side to side. Dixie giggled and threw the bra onto the runway, and turned to look at the other men who were waving fivers to attract her attention.

"You look like you're in love," said Clark once the redhead was out of earshot.

"Uh..." Barry took a few seconds to remember how to speak. "Just lust. I think."

"Wait until you see the REAL show," said Clark. "Shouldn't be long now."

Barry nodded, and continued staring at Dixie as Isis was replaced by Maya, a dreadlocked and tattooed hippie as busty as Bonnie but more tanned and wider-hipped. He was disappointed when Dixie finished her act, and turned to Clark. "Do they come out again later?"

Clark grinned. "Better than that. Just wait."

Barry shrugged. The next two strippers, Marisol and Giselle, were attractive and voluptuous, but neither of them fascinated him as much as Dixie had done. Marisol was replaced by Fatima, who kept her veil on until she'd removed the rest of her belly-dancer costume, then extracted her bejewelled butt plug from her ample ass and popped it into her mouth to thunderous applause. Her boobs were even bigger than Dixie's, if less impressive because of her chubby frame, and Barry was looking around the auditorium in the hope that some of the other strippers were trying to tempt men into lap dances. He saw Bonnie approaching them, and she leaned over the backs of their chairs and said, "Peepshow's about to start, if you're interested."

"You're not in it?" asked Clark, with a slightly exaggerated note of disappointment in his voice.

Bonnie chuckled, and murmured in his ear. Clark's expression brightened, and he turned to Barry and said, "You have to see this!" he said. "Trust me." Bonnie pointed at the bouncer standing near a door in the corner, and moved on to talk to more of the men as Clark took one of the fifties from his pocket and hurried towards the door. Barry followed him, and the bouncer relieved each of them of a half yard before opening the door. The next room had small booths arranged around a larger room, and the Asian woman who they'd seen when they'd arrived ushered them into a booth each. Barry inserted a fiver into the slot below the peepshow window, and his jaw dropped when he peered through the glass to see Dixie and Isis lying on a bed on a rotating platform, sucking on each other's boobs as they fingered their cunts.

Barry's erection, which had softened noticeably after Dixie had left the stage, swelled again, and he unzipped his pants and freed it. There was a box of tissues on the small shelf under the window, but he resisted the urge to jerk off as he watched the women slide along each other's bodies until they were 69ing, with Dixie on top. They kept this up until Dixie began writhing and moaning, her neck flushing the same shade of bubblegum pink as her nipples. When her breathing had returned to normal, she buried her face between Isis's dark thighs again, and resumed licking her clit with even more enthusiasm until Isis wailed in ecstasy.

The door to the room opened a moment later, and Bonnie walked in, naked but for her pleasers and a big pink strap-on dildo. She carried another harness in one hand, this one with a black dildo, and a bottle of lube in the other. As Dixie and Isis feasted on each other, Bonnie knelt behind Bonnie, parted her butt cheeks, and began rimming her. Barry felt his cock throbbing and beginning to ooze pre-cum, and he tried to control his breathing as he watched the show. He still hoped he'd have the chance to get his hands and maybe his mouth onto Dixie's boobs in a private dance, and didn't want to come yet.

His resolve was tested even more a moment later, when Bonnie started applying lube first to her dildo and then to Dixie's asshole, slipping two fingers inside as Dixie began moaning again. Then Dixie climbed off Isis to let her don her strap-on, then slowly lowered herself onto the huge black toy until it was buried in her cunt. Barry stared; he could have sworn that Dixie's and Isis's boobs had grown even larger since he'd seen them on the runway. He was still trying to convince himself this must be a distortion in the glass when Dixie bent over to kiss Isis on the mouth and Bonnie removed her fingers from her butt and began slowly easing her dildo inside it instead.

Barry had had anal sex with two women since he'd started college, but he'd never DPed a woman or ever seen it done except in porn, and he had to grab the shelf to stop himself wanking himself silly at the spectacle as the divine Dixie, both her delightful holes filled, dangled her enormous boobs over Isis's face. Her expression was utterly rapt as Isis sucked on her nipples while she was being so thoroughly fucked, and she grinned as the door opened and an overweight black man, naked but for a T-shirt and a leather jacket, walked in and waved his thick cock in her face. Dixie wrapped her lips around it as though she was starving, and barely two minutes later, the man threw his head back as he ejaculated down her throat.

The man staggered out a moment later, and another half-naked man walked in. Barry's jaw dropped as he recognized Clark, and after a few seconds of watching Dixie sucking his cock, Barry opened the door of the booth and looked around until he saw the bouncer. "How much to --" he began.

"$100 for a blowjob," the man replied, holding out his hand.

Barry hesitated, realizing that his cock was still sticking out of his fly. "With Dixie?"

"Yeah, of course," said the bouncer, chuckling. "Worth every cent, believe me."

I do, thought Barry as he grabbed his phone and counted out the bills. The man accepted them with a nod, then said, "Join the queue."

There were two men waiting outside the door, both naked from the waist down. Clark emerged a moment later, and as the next man stepped into the room, Clark looked at Barry and grinned wearily. "What did I tell you?" he said. "You can see why they don't advertise. See you back by the stage."

Barry nodded, and waited impatiently for his turn as another two men joined the queue behind him. When he finally walked into the room, Dixie was still being DPed and having her tits sucked, and she looked greedily at his erection as he approached her. She slowly licked the seven inches from his balls to the drop of pre-cum at the tip of his cock, and smiled as though savouring the taste before she kissed the glans and slowly sucked the rest of his length into her mouth, her lips and tongue caressing it as she looked up to see his expression.

Barry felt his legs trembling as she continued fellating him, and he had to fight to resist the urge to start thrusting, fucking her face in the same rhythm as Bonnie's dildo sliding in and out of Dixie's glorious ass. Dixie was sucking him as enthusiastically as any women he'd ever dated and with much more skill, but what finally sent him over the edge was when Dixie grabbed his right hand and placed it on her left tit, the one Isis wasn't sucking. He felt her hard swollen nipple between his fingers and the silky milky smoothness of her soft but firm titflesh and its wonderful weight and soon he was ejaculating onto her teasing tongue as Isis and Bonnie pleasured her other irresistible fuckholes.

Dixie gave him a moment to recover his composure as she gulped down his jizz, then let his softening cock slip out of her mouth. She grinned, blew him a kiss, and waved a hand in the direction of the door. Reluctantly releasing his grip on her beautiful big boob, he staggered out of the room, retrieved his pants and sneakers, and checked the compartment in his phone wallet to make sure his cash and cards were still there. He was relieved but unsurprised to see that they were, and he nodded at the bouncer as he walked back into the auditorium. All of the seats closest to the stage were occupied, mostly by new arrivals, and he sat next to Clark in the second row as a gorgeous goth girl picked up her black lacy lingerie and walked off the runway to be replaced by the Asian woman he'd seen when he arrived.

"What did I tell you?" Clark murmured.

"I'd swear her boobs were bigger than when I saw her dancing," Barry replied, "but that's impossible... right?"

"Hey, you're the pre-med. You tell me." Clark grinned. "Maybe it's just that you were hornier."

"Maybe, but I don't think so. And I'm sure they were natural, too. She let me grab one of them."

"Not bad. So, you're glad I brought you here?"

"Oh, fuck yeah."

"Ready to go?"

"No, not yet, not until I've seen her again."

Clark nodded. The Asian, Jade, finished her set, picked up her clothes and her money, and walked off to be replaced by Bonnie. A few minutes after she'd finished stripping and yielded her spot to Maya, Bonnie, wearing a g-string, bralet and pleasers, walked out of the side door and leaned over the back of Clark's chair. "Want a private dance?" she asked. "Ah have always depended on tha kindness of strangers."

Clark smiled. He was astonished that she'd remembered him at all, and even more so that she'd remembered he was studying theatre arts. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm almost out of cash."

"We have an ATM," she said cheerfully, then added in a stage whisper, "And I love ATM."

Clark turned red, and counted his remaining fivers. Only thirty dollars. Bonnie shrugged, and turned to Barry, "What about you?"

Before Barry could reply, Clark said, "He's waiting for Dixie. I think he's in love."

"How much is a... dance?" asked Barry.

Bonnie smiled. "A lapdance on the bench there, one song, is fifty. Private room starts at a hundred for ten minutes, fifty for each five minutes after that." Then, quietly, "After that, it depends how much you tip. Fifty for topless, a hundred for naked. A blowjob is another fifty, a hundred without a condom.."

"He's a boob man," said Clark.

"A tittyfuck? I charge the same as for a blowjob, but you'll have to ask Dixie. Do you want me to go back and tell her you're waiting?"

Barry swallowed, then nodded, and Bonnie laughed. The two men watched her lovely butt as she walked away, and Clark asked, "Could you lend me twenty bucks? I can pay you back next week... only if that leaves you enough for what you want, of course..."

*

Dixie pulled the curtain closed behind her and smiled at Barry. "Bonnie said you wanted a topless tittyfuck," she said, reaching for the bra clasp between her enormous boobs. "Is that right?"

Barry held out a wad of banknotes. "250?"

"Sure." She accepted the notes, counted them quickly, then shoved them into the waistband of her thong. She removed her lacy bra and tossed it aside, and giggled as Barry's jaw dropped. "You like?" she asked hefting her breasts and licking her right nipple.

"Fuck yeah," he replied, "but... I swear they're even bigger than they were when you were on stage!"

"Is that a problem?" she asked, stepping closer to him, smooshing her tits into his face as she reached for the timer on the shelf above the bench.

Barry kissed her swelling nipples and breathed in her perfume and pheromones, then said, his voice noticeably muffled, "Just the opposite, but... how is that possible?"

"My boobs get bigger every time I come. They shrink back to a G cup when I sleep, though. You want to take your pants off? We're on the clock, and I'm guessing you'd rather I was on your cock. We can talk if you like," she grabbed his hands and held them to the underside of her heavy boobs, "but I can think of better things you could do with your mouth."

So could Barry, and he sucked in as much delicious titflesh as he could while running his tongue around her nipples, but the medical student part of his brain was still grappling with the fact that her apparently natural boobs had swelled to at least a K cup in a few minutes. Dixie deftly undid his belt and his fly and pulled his pants down to his knees. "So, let's get one thing straight," she said softly as she stroked his rigid cock. "Do you want some lube?"

"Mm-hmm."

She grabbed a tube from the shelf and squirted some into her palm, which she then rubbed onto his shaft. "I guess you really do like my boobs," she said. "Which would you rather do, keep sucking them, or do you want to fuck them? I'm happy either way."

He worshipped her nipples for another minute before moaning, "I want to fuck them. Oh God, do I want to fuck them!."

She grinned, and knelt between his legs, wiped some of the lube into her captivating cleavage, and sandwiched his cock between her massive milkers, his seven-inch erection completely disappearing from view until she slid her boobs down to his thighs. She ground them up and down his length for a few minutes, her cleavage as warm and tight and slippery as any cunt Barry had ever fucked, before rubbing her nipple on the drop of pre-cum oozing from his meatus, which she then licked off. "Yum," she breathed, then wrapped her tits around his cock again. "Where do you want to come? In my mouth again or on my boobs?"

"Ummmmm..."

She slid her boobs down towards his tits and leaned forward so that she could kiss and lick the head of his cock. "You're clean and healthy and your come tastes fine, so it's up to you. But not in my eyes or my hair, okay?"

"Okay."

"And no photos."

"I wasn't going to..."

She looked up at his face and smiled. "Okay. But you'd be surprised what some guys try to do. Of course, they never get let in after that, and I get the feeling you'll want to come here again." She slid her boobs up and down his slippery cock faster and faster until he was unable to delay his orgasm any longer, and he ejaculated explosively over her tits, throat and chin.

"I always wanted a pearl necklace," she said, giggling, and pushed her boobs up towards her face so she could lick up as much of his come as her tongue could reach. She wiped most of the rest with her fingers, which she licked clean. The bell on the timer shrilled a few seconds later.

"That was incredible," Barry said, looking at her enormous breasts as she rose to her feet and backed away, then turned around and bent down to pick up her bra as well as giving him a good look at her spectacular ass.

"I have to go and clean myself up," she said. "I'm back on the runway in half an hour. But I hope we can do this again soon."

As often as I can afford it, Barry thought as he watched her walk away.

*

Bonnie lingered for a moment after the song had ended; then, realizing that while her lapdance had revived Clark's erection almost to bursting point he wasn't going to pay her for anything more, she blew him a kiss and was about to walk away when he asked, "Do you like going to movies? Or live theatre?"

"If you mean, do I date my clients? Then the answer's no," she replied firmly. "Sorry. But you can see me here almost any night."

"You don't go out at all?"

"Sometimes, but not that often. I have everything I need here."

Clark looked around the room, seeing the men watching Marisol and Maya. "Don't you ever just want to go outside?"

"Occasionally but not often," she replied, then quoted, "'O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.'"

Clark smiled. "Have you done any acting? I mean, apart from this."

"Not really."

"Maybe you should. You have the looks, the voice, and you obviously have a good memory."

"Not really," she repeated. "Look, I have to go." She hurried to the door leading backstage, feeling slightly uneasy. While she did have a good memory for faces and names, and occasionally for things she'd heard or read, she was unable to remember very much of her life before starting work at the club. She thought she'd grown up somewhere in the south, and could visualize the faces of people she thought might have been her family, and she'd gone to school and maybe worked as a waitress in a roadhouse in a small town, but it was all extremely vague and on the rare occasions she was reminded of this, it made her worry that she might be a replicant, an instant adult clone or some sort of biological robot. She'd mentioned this to Isis and Dixie and Maya one night in the jacuzzi after the club had closed, and they'd admitted that they couldn't remember much of their earlier years either. "Maybe we smoked too much pot," Isis suggested. "I don't know. We don't seem to have any short-term memory issues now, though."

"Maybe it's that we just don't want to remember," said Maya. "I mean, fuck, we're happy now, aren't we? I mean, apart from the nightmares..."

*

Duke was dreaming of a huge-breasted woman enthusiastically taking cock in all three of her holes, which would normally have been the sort of dream he enjoyed except that he was sure that somehow HE was the woman and he'd gobbled down nearly a pint of jizz. He woke up feeling as though someone was sitting on his chest, which he knew was a possible symptom of a heart attack. The room was dark, and smelled sweetly of perfume and pussy, rather than the cigarette smoke and locker room odour of his tiny apartment. He lay there waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness as he tried to orient himself, starting with trying to remember the date. Nothing. Try an easier one. His full name was John Wayne Duquesne, better known to his few remaining friends as Duke. Date of birth 16/7/1980. Job, prison guard, though he still liked to remember being sheriff in Pottersfield... and that brought back a flood of memories.

He'd been one of the millions of men caught up in the April Fools' Day Hoax when it had been announced that Free Use laws had been passed in the US. Most state governments had decided that the social and financial cost of prosecuting and jailing every man known to have committed sexual assault that morning would be too much to bear, and apart from a few high-profile criminal and civil cases, nearly all of them had avoided legal consequences... but Duke's wife had dumped and divorced him after hearing that he'd sodomized an unwilling waitress. His daughters had disowned him, and he'd left town after losing the next election. He was unemployed for long enough that he was glad to have found the poorly-paid job with a private prison (though it wasn't without certain perks), and then one day a young-looking man with strange purple eyes had knocked on his door and introduced himself as Anthony... and that was the last thing he remembered.

Had he died? He thought he could hear his heart beating, and he willed his arms to reach up and touch his chest.

Were those... breasts? If so, they felt bigger than both halves of a basketball. His fingertips brushed against his nipples, and a thrill ran through his entire body like a weirdly pleasant electric shock.

This can't be happening, he thought. He screwed up his courage and reached down with his right hand to see whether he still had a cock. His fingers slipped inside a wet warm cunt, and his thumb, as if by muscle memory, circled his clit. His left hand squeezed his left breast, bringing the nipple up to his mouth to suck; the fingers in his cunt found his g-spot, and soon he was coming more intensely than he could remember ever coming before, even when he'd butt-fucked that gorgeous waitress in a storeroom in Pottersfield, and the ecstasy drowned out all other thought.

*

Isis woke when she heard her sleeping partner screaming, and rolled over. "Dixie? You okay, girl?"

"Nightmare," Dixie gasped. "It's... I'm still a bit shaky."

"The usual one?" Isis said sympathetically. She'd heard her describe it before, and knew that Bonnie had similarly horrible dreams about being a man who'd forcibly deflowered a virgin. Isis also suffered nightmares of having been a racist and homophobic ICE thug who'd revelled in the freedom his job had given him to bully people with impunity, including sexual assaults (though unlike some of his colleagues, he'd been careful not to leave his DNA in fertile wombs or other places where it might cause him problems). Isis was able to intellectually grasp the concept of someone choosing a job that made people hate you, and even the bizarre idea of someone having sex with a partner who didn't want that particular sex act at that particular time with that particular person... but not the desire to do so. What sort of creepy sicko would want to do that? Wasn't the best thing about sex, and work, and arguably even life itself, making everyone around you happy?

Dixie nodded, and Isis wrapped her arms around her and held her close, their enormous boobs pressed against each other. Soon they were kissing and Isis's right thigh was between Dixie's, rubbing against her wet cunt until she came again, and again, and again, before she felt the need to reciprocate, and the two women rearranged themselves on the bed so they could suck each other's nipples while pleasuring themselves with their favourite toys from the nightstands.

"Feeling better now?" asked Isis, an hour later as they rearranged themselves until they were face-to-face again.

"Much better," Dixie replied, smiling at her. Her orgasms had caused her breasts to swell up to the size of prize watermelons, though Isis thought they were much tastier, even when they weren't covered in delicious warm jizz or cunt juice.

"Good. You're too wonderful a person to have bad dreams."

"So're you. I wonder where they come from? I don't really believe in reincarnation or anything like that, but... why do so many of the girls here have them?"

"I don't know," Isis admitted. "Maybe they're the memories or fantasies of some of the men who come here, though I really hope not. Most of them behave while they're here. I can hardly remember the last time one was thrown out and told not to return." It occurred to Dixie that she also couldn't remember how long she'd been working in the house, or what her life had been like before purple-eyed Anthony had recruited her, but that didn't seem important. She felt Dixie's S-cup tits brush up against hers again, and giggled. "Do you remember the time so many people fucked you and made you come that your boobs grew so big you couldn't get through the door and had to sleep in the champagne room until they were smaller?"

Dixie smiled at the memory. So many cocks and tongues and fingers and toys had been in her cunt and ass and mouth and between her boobs, and she'd dovefucked so many women and given so many rimjobs, that the evening had blurred into one long orgasm. "Why would I want to get out of a room when THAT is happening?" she asked. "I'm hoping one day I'll come so much that my boobs get too heavy to lift and I just have to lie there and continue getting fucked until they're bigger than the rest of me."

"Don't let them get too big," said Isis. "It's only a king-sized bed. And how big would that make your nipples?"

"Not too big to fit in someone's mouth." She kissed Isis and said, "I hope we're busy tonight. I bet I swallow more come than you do."

Isis laughed. "Only if you suck it out of my ass as well," she replied. "I know how much you love sticking your tongue up my gape as far as it can go."

"Oooh! I like the way you think." She pushed Isis's head down to her breasts so she could resume sucking her nipple. Soon she was coming again, the nightmare forgotten. I'm so glad Anthony brought me here, she thought. It's a GOOD life.