The Maid For Service Bundle

by Nadia Nightside

  But, a couple of weeks ago, I noticed one of my naturally dirty blonde locks had become bright, golden blond. It slid down over my eyes—and was eerily silky soft. I chopped it right off, as soon as I saw it. I thought I had, I don't know, accidentally knocked some bleach into my hair or something.

  The next morning, the lock had returned, and with company. There were three or four locks all blond, and all of them long. I chopped it all off again—and also trimmed down the rest of my hair. It had gone almost past my neck, which never happens.

  This continued for a few days—with my hair steadily getting longer and blonder the whole time—until I just gave up.

  Now, it’s comfortably right past my shoulders. I’m getting rather good at trimming it, I think—and Claudette even gave me a pair of real hairstyling scissors so that the cuts could be cleaner. The color is cheery, bright blond. And...I have to admit, it really makes my whole demeanor much more cheerful and vibrant.

  I thought I would hate that—being forced to be cheery...but you know what? I sort of like it. It’s kind of like being dropped off at summer camp, you know? All of a sudden, because you’re in an environment where you can’t help but meet new people, you actually start to meet new people? The same deal with...whatever’s happening with me now. Because I look friendlier and sexier, I feel friendlier and sexier.

  I smiled in the mirror just now, giggling at the ridiculous thought of comparing my changing body to a summer camp. I could hardly believe it was me. The girl in the mirror just looks so pleased. I want to be her friend. I want to fucking go out with that girl...and that girl is me.

  I blame the pills for all the changes, of course. I know, I know—probably you do too. You’re not dumb. You probably caught right on—maybe you caught on even before I did!

  But like...well, it’s not as if any of these changes are making me look bad. Or feel bad. In fact, I've had nothing but good consequences from them. Claudette won’t stop complimenting me. Neither will Lilah.

  “You just look like an angel on Earth,” Claudette said just today, kissing me on the cheek.

  And Lilah, as she slid her hands down my back: “You’re an absolute knock-out, girl. Look at you.”

  Stuff like that. I know it’s cheesy, but...I can’t help but like it. It feels so good to be noticed for a change. Can’t I enjoy it, just a little?

  I feel like I deserve it.

  I don't even mind that Claudette and Lilah have been touching me so much. God, who would? They're so hot. Something about the way their hormones hit them means they love touching and being touched. Lilah made it clear it was part of my job to cooperate with their desires when it came to touching, and you know what? I'm fine with it.

  I get to touch Lilah's body whenever I want. The hottest babe around. And when I'm not touching her, I'm touching Claudette. And they want me to. It's so invigorating.

  Also, they’ve gotten very strict about the dress code. It seems that—after I capitulated to Lilah when it came to the pills and the one uniform, they knew they had all the power.

  It all culminated one day when Claudette cornered me as I was cleaning Mister Castle’s enormous vacant study.

  I heard her before I saw her, of course. By this time, I was wearing rather elaborate three-inch heels. They had leather straps that slid across the tops of my feet and up around my ankles. But even those didn’t compete with Claudette’s awe-inspiring six-inch heel gladiator style-sandals. The heels were solid steel.

  She slid down across from me on the long leather couch in front of the fire place, her long legs in the air. She stroked the leather for some time, erotically almost. I watched as she leaned over, her heavy tits pressing hard against the cushions, and took in a deep breath. I could see that her nipples were dripping small amounts of milk through the tight confines of her clothing.

  “Can I help you find something?” I asked.

  “Oh, no, thank you!”

  She stood up, as if this was the first she had noticed me. Perhaps it was. A tight yellow minidress clung to her bodaciously busty form. Her baby bump was more than evident—it was on display. The trio of hot, round bulges protruding from her bod—two boobs and a bump—were impossible to ignore in the skin-baring cloth of the dress.

  “I like to come in here and just...inhale his scent, sometimes.”

  “His scent?” I asked. “The scent of...Mister Castle?”

  “Of course. Can’t you smell him?”

  She took in a deep breath, rotating her fingers around her incredibly erect nipples.

  I really couldn’t.

  I couldn’t, in fact, truly fathom the way these women talked about Mister Castle at all. She and Lilah treated him in conversations as if everything he said was the word of God. They spoke of him with enormous reverence, and anything that was contrary to even the tiniest bit of his will was not allowed.

  Their incredibly high-heeled footwear was a great example of this. The last day they saw him, he had asked for six-inch heels, apparently. And, as he had not returned since that time to tell them any different, they continued to only wear six-inch heels. Again and again they stressed to me the importance of building up my tolerance for heels—they were so important for Mister Castle’s needs, they said. He loved a woman in heels. A woman in heels was really working to the best of her ability. A man couldn’t possibly be pregnant, busty, and clean and cook like a woman could, all the while wearing sexy heels to showcase her appearance. It was important to distinguish herself in this way, to display what power the feminine body had.

  It was a crock of shit, if you asked me—but they didn’t ask me. They just told me.

  And I did what they said—they were paying my bills, and...you know what? These pills are making it easier and easier to wear more and more outlandish footwear. It was fun, like they said. I enjoy it more and more every day.

  Claudette stood up and guided me over to the couch. “Come now. Breath in. I know you can smell his musk.”

  The top of her tits pressed hard against my naked arm. I tried to pull away.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Come on.” She grabbed me again. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

  I shook her off. “Leave me alone, all right?”

  She smiled. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m just trying to be friendly.”

  “I don’t want to be friendly with you, okay? Get it through your head. I’m here to work.”

  “I don’t believe you,” said Claudette.

  “Well, believe it, all right? I’m a bitch. I don’t like you.”

  I was really, really convinced of this. At this time, I just...I didn't trust them. Any of them. They were always so friendly. So happy. So welcoming. They were up to something!

  She clasped her hands together. I noticed for the first time how they had little lace gloves on them—see through and yellow, the same color as her dress. Cute bows decorated with canaries topped her wrists.

  “No, I don’t think you’re a bitch,” she said. “I think you’re scared.”

  “Scared?” I scoffed. “What could I possibly be scared of from you?”

  “You’re scared I won’t like you. I think you’re scared everyone won’t like you. So you want to control them by not giving them a choice. You act awful on purpose so that you can pretend like it’s your decision when someone doesn’t want to be your friend. You can pretend like you forced them to that. But you can’t control other people, dearie. You’re not the type.”

  “...Then who is?” I had become very withdrawn. Very quiet.

  “Mister Castle, of course. But don’t worry about that. He’s away for a while, yet. Listen.”

  She slipped forward and took my hands into her chest—between her cleavage. It was so warm there. So inviting.

  “I think you’re really smart and lovely. I wish we didn’t have to be so hostile toward one another. And you’re looking so very...scrumptious, lately.”

  Her eyes had become predatory.

  “Our fami
ly here could really use someone like you. Someone who has so much to learn. Lilah and I...we have much to teach.”

  I gulped. She drew me in closer to her body. Her breaths were so warm on my face.

  “N-no. Hey. I’m not...I don’t...”

  “Of course you are. Of course you do.”

  Her breasts were soft. Really, really soft. I sank my hands into them, soft little mews tumbling out from my mouth. Animal sounds, she had reduced me to.

  She pulled me in for a kiss. My own tits—my new tits—pressed hard against hers. Bonfires of delight spread out from my nipples, setting my whole tinderbox body ablaze.

  “C-Claudette...”

  Shushing softly, she slipped her hands around my neck and guided me downward. I did not resist. She was so pretty.

  Soon, my mouth slid over her nipple—the same milk-heavy nipple I had noticed before. I can’t tell you why—I just lapped it up. There was not much, but I took all that was there. It was so sweet, so heavy and delicious. I could have sucked on her all night long.

  I wanted to go deeper, lower. I wanted to lick this pregnant woman’s pussy!

  But she pulled my head up and stopped me.

  Then, grinning, she slipped down to her knees before me. She pushed me back onto the couch until I lay down. And then, pushing my legs apart, she started licking my pussy instead.

  Her tongue was...god, I can hardly even describe it. It was magic. Pure magic. She slipped it over the hot bud of my clit, licking me gingerly at first.

  “Oh, Claudette!” I moaned. “Oh, my god!”

  Encouraged now, she licked faster and faster. My legs squirmed around her beautiful head. Her long hair spilled all over my lap and thighs. I could feel milk from her nipples sliding out from her dress and onto the backs of my legs, sliding down toward my pussy.

  “I'm gonna...I'm g-gonna...”

  An explosion of pleasure swept over me. I squeezed my legs tight around Claudette's head, and she moaned as she licked harder and harder.

  I came. Hard. I came so hard. Her tongue was magic, pure magic.

  “There,” said Claudette, sliding up. Warm milk dripped down the front of her dress. “Now, don’t you feel friendlier now?”

  I definitely did.

  I definitely do.

  I know there’s something fishy here...but god, if she keeps licking me like that, I’m not sure I’ll ever work up the will to care that much.

  NOW:

  There is time allotted to me to admire the perfection of my reflection. I spent twenty minutes simply looking at my hair. How long and thick it has become since I began my service for Mister Castle.

  Another thirty minutes are devoted to my breasts. So big. So heavy and full of milk. They are easily 36E cups, perhaps bigger. I have stopped keeping track. Each bra has to be custom made. All I know for certain is that they are bigger even than Claudette's or Lilah's. I mash them together. If I am feeling frisky, I slide my mouth down and lick my own nipples. It's very easy for me to do. My tongue is long, pink, and always wet. My lips are similarly situated—pink and wet, almost always, just in case Mister Castle might want to enter me.. Both sets of lips, mind you, top and bottom.

  The next twenty minutes, I admire my ass and legs. My legs are so very long and shiny. They look almost as if they are covered in nylons, the skin is so sleek and smooth. And my ass? A fetching bubble, made to be slapped and grabbed. A perfect handle for Mister Castle's grip.

  For the last ten minutes of my beauty break, I stare deep into my eyes, admiring my own gorgeous face. My eyes are so blue, so clear. I am everything I ever wanted to be. I am popular here. I am beloved. I am beautiful. I never thought life could be so good.

  THEN:

  I’ve been feeling good for the past few weeks. Sorry for the slow updates.

  There’s something really terrible and crazy I want to talk about, but first I have to explain what’s been going on.

  Okay, like, first of all, Mister Castle? Still not the fuck around. Where the hell are you, bro? Get in the picture already. This is your show, isn’t it? Claudette keeps fingering my pussy and whispering how much she loves him in my ears, and that’s...I mean, you know how it is. That’s really, really hot, isn’t it? That she would love him so much that she can’t help but touch my body because of her affection? That’s just...fuck. I want to touch myself right now thinking about that, and I know I shouldn’t.

  I know I shouldn’t because it’s getting harder and harder all the time not to touch myself.

  I’m starting to want Mister Castle too. I can’t help it. I know that I shouldn’t—I mean, I haven’t even ever been laid, really! Not completely. I mean to get laid, truly, means you have to give as well as receive, I think, so like, what Claudette’s done to me doesn’t count. Right?

  Anyway I definitely haven't been laid like, with a man. Terrence—he won't even offer anymore to let me suck his cock. Sometimes I'm happy about that. I don't think I'd be able to turn him down. The rest of the time, I'm trying to restrain myself

  And like...god. With as much as she wants him, I just...whenever she mentions his name I get all googly-eyed. I just want to see this stud for myself, you know? I’m sort of...sort of excited by it. Claudette says I won’t be able to help myself when I'm finally in front of him. She says I won’t be able to stop myself from sucking his cock like, right away. She says I’ll see him and drop to my knees and beg to wrap my big tits around his cock and have him spray my pretty face with his cum and then suck him until he's hard again and—

  Whoa.

  Okay, girl. Calm down. Take a breath.

  Some of that, I should probably explain, huh? The whole “big tits and pretty face” thing. I mean, that wasn’t totally true during my last update, right?

  There’s been some more...changes, lately, to my body. And I don’t care how many times Lilah or Claudette tell me I look totally fucking hot, or how many times Terrance says that it’s just a late-stage growth spurt, something weird is happening.

  My hair won't stop growing, for one. And I mean, it’s growing a lot. Normally, I would get a haircut like maybe once a month to keep it as short as I like it. I thought that it had settled into a blond mess around my shoulders.

  Now, though? I have to keep chopping it down. The shit is like bamboo. It's all the way down to my ass, and thick. It takes me several seconds to slip my hand through my hot, long silky locks now. And god, I can't even talk about them any other way other than as hot, long silky locks! That's what they are!

  I would think I was becoming some total bimbo, except that, outside of thinking about sex all the time, my intelligence seems unfazed. I can read the books I brought here with me and understand them perfectly well. I just have to, you know, take a break every half-hour or so and cum so that I can concentrate, or else I start daydreaming about something big and perfect and veiny and huge sliding up inside of my hot little cunt and fucking me so hard I’ll never walk again...

  ‘Scuse me.

  Okay. I’m back. I’m calm again. I can think. You see? I’m perfectly smart. I just have to take care of things pretty often. “Things” meaning “cum harder than hell.” It’s not easy to write with sticky, pussy-juice covered fingers, but I make do.

  God, I just came thinking about cock. Mister Castle’s cock, no less, and I haven’t even seen him in person. Claudette’s been moaning his name to me as she cums in my ear, as she fingers my pussy. Yeah, she cums when I cum. She says she can’t help it—she’s all attuned to my pheromones or something.

  Fuck, she’s so fucking hot. Anyway, I think because she’s been moaning his name so much, I’ve started to just on instinct.

  Anyway, tits.

  (How’s that for a segue?)

  And you see, it’s really my tits that I wanted to talk about to begin with. Because, yes, okay, they’re huge now. I mean, they’re not huge—not like Claudette huge, or Lilah huge, but they’re fully-fledged tits when they used to be fully-fledged nipples-and-not-much-else. I h
ave tits, now. Big, honking 36D titties, and they just seem to be growing more and more by the day.

  Like, I love them. I really do. They’re just...they look amazing, and they make my body look terrific, and they feel great (ohmygod so good. I can’t touch them or else I’ll have to go cum again), and I honestly don’t have any complaints.

  Except, well.

  Earlier today, just before sitting down to write this, as a matter of fact, I found out why they were so big.

  There’s milk coming out of my body. Like, fertile milk. The kind moms give out, only I’m not a mom. I’m not even pregnant. But it doesn’t matter because...my tits.

  My tits are lactating.

  And by that, I don't mean just a little. They are gushing out milk like crazy. Like, maybe even more than Claudette and Lilah. They're creating so much milk that I...well. I...um...

  I had to take care of it myself. Understand?

  God, you might not understand. I don't even know anymore.

  I've had to lick some of it up myself.

  It tasted...

  This is embarrassing. But it tasted really, really good. Like, arousingly good. Like, I licked up a dollop of it, and I had to cum almost immediately.

  Obviously, I had to do some detective work. That’s what I worked on today. And hoo boy, I found out quite a lot more than I would have thought possible!

  My first thought was, obviously, that I needed to find out what the name of the pills were. They had no identifying features—on the pills themselves there was just a “44DD” on it.

  Oh...Oh, I get it.

  Oh, that’s gross if that’s what that means. Forty-four double dees indeed!

  Lying in advertising too! Mine are only at 36D. You’d think the pills would at least have the decency to do what they said if they were going to put it on the pill.

  Although...I’m still taking them every day. And I seem to keep growing outward. Sexier and sexier, every day.

  I should stop. I know I should. But...it’s just...

  I was never popular, okay? I was never pretty. No one ever thought anything of me. And here, in this place, they’re complimenting me all the time—and even if they weren’t? I can see myself. I know I look hot. Yesterday, I came just from looking at my body in the mirror!