The Maid For Pleasure Bundle 2

by Nadia Nightside

  “Rebecca, here’s that book back.”

  Tiffany held the book out, standing in front of Rebecca's small desk. Rebecca wore a tiny business suit, the lapels spread wide, and her cleavage was displayed atop a bright pink bra. The sight of those huge, pale, freckled breasts along with the neon coloring the bra was mouth-watering to say the least.

  The buxom assistant was slowly and erotically sucking on a lollipop. Thick dollops of sugar coated the tops of her monumental mammaries. She didn't seem to mind. Letting go of a yard-long strand of chestnut hair, she took the book.

  “Oh,” she said slowly. “Neat.”

  “Are there any others?”

  “Not really,” said Rebecca. “There’s just these.”

  She handed Tiffany a copy of the pamphlet she had been reading. They were piled high on her desk. Tiffany had seen Rebecca handing them out to women all day long.

  They all featured women in tiny, erotic outfits with daring skirts and high heels. Many of the pictures—surprisingly lifelike—featured the women with huge smiles on their gorgeous faces, performing all manner of sexual acts.

  “Oh wow,” said Tiffany, tittering softly. “That's like...really serious reading.”

  Rebecca nodded. “I've been studying it at night after you go to sleep.”

  Tiffany giggled, sliding into her office. Rebecca did seem to have more energy than her, but it wasn't Tiffany's fault. The little brunette tired her right out. Rebecca was perfectly content to lick Tiffany's pussy for several hours every night, and afterward, all Tiffany could do was suck on some of Candy's candy and wonder off to dreamland.

  Tiffany walked into her office, feeling a bit confused. She was certain there was something important going on today, but she couldn’t put her fingers on it. It was a Friday, late in the evening. She usually came to the stadium around this time, right? Why was that?

  Bending over at the waist, she set down her luxury purse on the floor. She set it there in case there was a man who came by later who she could then bend over once more and pick it up, flashing him her complete lack of panties. The purse just large enough to hold a pair of candy bars set on top of each other. She would never dare eat a candy bar, of course. It might do something to her smashing figure.

  It was difficult to bend over in her knee-high leather boots. She felt rather proud of herself for negotiating the difficulty so easily. Her long, trim legs led fetchingly into a tight, tiny red-and-white minidress, the colors of her team. The fabric of the dress clung to her expansive hips and had a low, scooping neckline that showed off the substantial nature of her breasts.

  There was something she was responsible for...something...something like, really important.

  God, why were words so giggly hard?

  If she could remember some more giggling words, she might be able to get some giggling work done around here! Giggle! Wasn’t that what they giggly paid her for?

  The little mental tirade was supposed to be angry and incendiary, but with so many giggles interposed in her thoughts, it was hard to keep anything serious. Her hands pressed hard against her thick breasts, rotating against the nipples.

  “Giggle,” she said, sliding one hand down her luscious curves and then up her soft thighs into her dress. “Can’t a girl catch a giggling break?”

  Realizing the absurdity of what she said, she giggled softly. What a silly thing to have come out of her mouth.

  “Tiffany?” Rebecca peeked her head in the door. “I wish you'd let me take care of that.” She tsked softly. “I have to earn my keep somehow, you know.”

  Obediently, the brunette dropped to the floor and began to slide her lips up Tiffany's legs. The stunning dark-haired beauty wanted to stop Rebecca and tell her to slow down, that she was only trying to think, but Rebecca was rather good at turning her on.

  “You shouldn't be so stressed,” said Rebecca. “It's only the first quarter and we're already winning handily. I don't think you've got anything to worry about.”

  Oh god, she thought. The game!

  She had completely forgotten. Her shopping expedition to find the perfect pair of boots to go along with her tight new dress had completely eaten up her attention and her mind.

  Since when had she become such a giggling ditz?

  Pushing away from Rebecca's careful attentions, she strutted out into the hall and toward her seat. How could she have not heard the crowd? They had been getting thoroughly rowdy as of late. If it wasn't enough to watch The Tornados absolutely decimate the opposing teams, often leaving them with multiple injuries, then the completely bimbofied cheerleading team was there to pick up the slack. It was so strange—Tiffany recalled, dimly, asking for a new defense, but Castle hadn't sent more maids. Rather, the cheerleaders that were there seemed to change almost over night. They had gone out on a weekend team-building exercise with Candy and Bambi, and the remaining twelve girls came back with a brand new outlook on life and thoroughly lactating tits. After that, it was a short time before the rest of her players were thoroughly fucked and thoroughly transformed, just like Tate and Karlyle.

  Tiffany, sliding into her owner's box high above the action of the game below, mused that she wouldn't mind some lactating tits. Wasn't she pretty enough to lactate? She'd love to be able to feed a man with the product of her big, milky titties. The thought of all that cream sliding everywhere, getting on everything...

  She collapsed into her leather seat, her fingers quickly affixed to her cunt once more. Rebecca had really worked her up. Below her, she watched as the Tornados scored another sack. It was ten minutes into the first quarter, and they already had eight sacks. That seemed like some sort of record.

  From behind her came Candy and Bambi. The twin bimbos were dolled up in their tiny cheerleader outfits. Their tiny skirts did nothing at all to hide the expansive ranges of their tanned asses, and their sculpted, fetching torsos were displayed nicely by the tops. Of course, the biggest feature of each—even more than their gorgeous, almost identical faces and luxurious manes of thick hair—were their huge milk-producing tits. Small trails of milk pushed out past their tops down onto their hugely pregnant bellies. Each were still tiny-waisted and utterly trim, and looked like they had swallowed a large melon whole.

  “Whazz...what are you doing up here?” Tiffany giggled. “You gotta be on the sideline. Like, helping n’stuff.”

  Speech had suddenly become suddenly hard as her eyes zeroed in on Candy and Bambi's beautifully lactating breasts. God, but she wanted to suck on those so bad!

  “Don’t worry about it. Sandra’s in charge down there.”

  “Sandra? But she’s...all...she’s like...she was gonna quit.”

  The stolid young cheerleader was only working for The Tornados to fund her eventual law degree. Tiffany had fully supported this venture—that's why she made her captain. A few weeks ago, frustrated and more than a little terrified with all the changes to the players and to Tiffany, the lovely Asian had threatened to walk out. Tiffany remembered it clearly because Rebecca had been sliding a dildo up her cunt at the time.

  “I talked her out of it, remember?” Candy giggled, sliding her hands around Tiffany's shoulders. It was very simple, suddenly, to only look directly down Candy's cleavage. “She had a sit down with me, and I gave her plenty of milk and transformed her body and mind just for the team, and she decided to stay after I made her do just that.”

  Bambi had gotten on her knees, crawling very easily in her tall, platform heels. The two bimbos did everything easily in platform heels. It was all they wore these days. Bambi pushed Tiffany's fingers aside, and applied her tongue to her boss's cunt, soft and sweet. Tiffany moaned. Bambi's baby bump pressed against her calves, her tits leaking milk all over her legs and feet.

  “O-oh...” said Tiffany. Candy was being awfully direct. It was unlike her. “You’re...I thought...you were dumb?”

  “Oh.” Candy giggled. She took Tiffany's hand and slid it over her large, swollen belly. “Yes, most people do. But I�
�m not dumb at all. I just love having fun. I don’t really bother to think too often, but Mister Castle,” she let out a very pleased sigh, “ordered me to do some very specific thinking. So I just had to make him happy. No one can turn him down, you know. Not on any issue.”

  Tiffany giggled. She felt so helplessly turned on. Bambi was doing spectacular things with her tongue. Tiffany felt like her legs were numb. Idly she watched the little sparkles on her booted heels shine in the bright light of her box. Her brain felt like those sparkles. Shiny, bright, and temporary.

  “You aren’t...making sense,” said Tiffany.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Candy.

  Tiffany nodded. Yes, of course. Don't worry. Good girls didn't worry. That made sense. The blonde bimbo took a firm grip on Bambi's head, guiding her up and down Tiffany's legs and crotch. Bambi’s tongue was pure magic.

  “You worry so much,” said Candy. “So many responsibilities. I think you’ll do so much better if you just forget them.”

  “F-forget them?”

  “Sure. You don’t need so many responsibilities. So many thoughts. All that thinking and doing is so much better for men, after all.”

  Tiffany let out a happy sigh at that. Men were very strong and responsible. That’s why they always knew what was right and what was wrong. That’s why it felt so very good to have their approval—and the best way for a sexy babe like her to have their approval was to dress sexy and show off her body.

  Candy was really quite smart. Why hadn't she noticed that before?

  “It really would be much simpler if we could have just changed you the same way that I changed the other cheerleaders and the players. With my milk, I mean. But Master thought it would be more fun to leave all those little novels around, and the candy, and then let our pheromones do the rest of the work.”

  “N-novels? C-candy?”

  “The ink was full of his chemicals. So were all those sugary treats we fed you. It’s a slower form of his naturalization process. Not as direct as his milk, but still effective.”

  “Natura...what?”

  Bambi was moaning now, and fingering herself as she worked. Licking Tiffany was getting her aroused. That was so cool.

  “Naturalization!” Candy giggled. “By which he makes girls into what they are naturally supposed to be, duh. Gosh, you don’t know anything, you big silly.”

  Tiffany had trouble wrapping her mind around all of that. She was on the edge now, so close to cumming, and Bambi was going to bring her there...

  “Now,” said Candy, “Aren’t you thirsty, baby?”

  Tiffany nodded intently. Candy slid her top down, and leaned her chest forward into Tiffany's mouth.

  “Good. Castle said it was finally time for you to have a drink. So, have a good, long drink for Candy, okay?”

  Candy slipped her nipple over Tiffany’s mouth. For just a moment, Tiffany tried to protest, but then the taste of Candy’s milk hit her lips. It was so fucking delicious! She couldn’t resist. She didn’t want to. She couldn’t imagine anyone protesting such deliciousness.

  Slowly, like a tide of water ebbing over a wall, her orgasms started to flood through her body. There was one, and then another, and then another, and then there were so many for so long that she did not know where one stopped and the other started.

  * * * * *

  Tiffany woke some two hours later in a puddle of milk and pussy juices. Slowly, she got up to her feet, and then giggled at the outline on the floor. There was milk all around everywhere except in a small six inch radius from where she had been on the ground. Like almost as if she had been sucking up and absorbing the milk that was around her.

  She giggled. That was silly. Everything was silly.

  For example—she was dressed in a cheerleader's outfit. Wasn't that silly? She wasn't a cheerleader at all. Or, she had been, once upon a time, but that was ages ago.

  On the field below, she could tell the game was all but over. Her team was winning. The score was something ridiculous—all she could tell was the the other team had zero points, and her team's points were much more than that. Numbers were so very hard.

  Celebratory, she lifted up one leg and raised her hands to the air. Rah!

  Oh, my, she thought. That was rather fun. She had done it all in these sexy little six-inch acrylic heels, too. Like, that was pretty hard.

  Tiffany walked down the halls of the stadium in a daze, giggling and touching herself all the while. Every so often she would pass a railing affixed to the wall to help people stand, and that would look all cylindrical and long and hard, like a cock, and Tiffany would have to stop and finger herself to a quick little orgasm because she had thought about her favorite thing in the world.

  There were a lot of railings in The Tornados’ Stadium.

  Cocks, cocks, cocks.

  God, why hadn't she had a cock in forever? She loved them so fucking much. This stadium was full of cocks, and her body was made for fucking. If she wanted, she could probably stroll right out into the crowd and get fucked by every last man in the stadium...and there were like, more than fifteen thousand people in the stadium.

  Fascinated now, she tried wandering at random through the back hallways to get out to the stadium seats. Her giggly little mind couldn't remember at all those manly things like direction or location, but she felt like she could follow the source of the sound well enough. She started opening doors at random.

  In one, she ran into the janitor fucking a very ample-proportioned catering woman. In another, she found a pair of accountants from the third floor eating each other's pussies.

  Through another door, she found the janitor's closet. On the door was a picture of Tiffany's face affixed to a pin-up girl’s body. Tiffany faced the door in such a way that a window down the hall was just beyond it, and she could see her own reflection and the pin-up mockery at the same time.

  Her body was so much better than that silly pin-up girl’s, she realized with a bit of pride. She took in a deep breath, sucking in her tiny tummy, and letting her thick tits stick out proudly. Her legs looked smashing in her heels. Bambi and Candy did her such a favor by putting them on.

  And then, slowly, the longer she admired her reflection, shame and shock began to weasel their way into her mind. Somehow, Tiffany's mind was clearing.

  She hated pin-up girls. She hated bimbos. She hated women who defined themselves exclusively by their looks and their ability to turn men on. It was monstrous to let someone live that way.

  And...

  A-and...that was her. That was...she was a pin-up girl. She was a walking wet dream. She was a bimbo beyond all bimbos. She could see herself right there, in that reflection.

  Terrified of what she had become, she fled from the poster, strutting out effortlessly in her high high heels, unable to stop herself from adding a sexy sway to her walk. Candy had changed her. Bambi had changed her. Rebecca had changed her, and she was changed too! And Castle! He was at the root of it all!

  How had she let it get to this?

  Somehow, through the seeming labyrinthine corridors of the stadium, she found her way back to her office. The one place where she felt safe. Breathing hard, her tits pushing boldly against her tiny uniform, she rushed inside.

  Inside was Castle, talking with a contractor in a blue jacket.

  “I’ll want this wall taken out completely,” said Castle, pointing. “And a pair of fountains over there. I’ll want them fueled with—”

  He stopped, eyeing Tiffany up and down critically.

  “Oh, hello, dear. So good of you to join us.”

  “Y-y-you monster!” She pointed at him, gesticulating wildly. “You did this! You did all of this!”

  Castle whispered something to the contractor, who nodded and stepped out, though not before landing a slap on Tiffany's ass. She decided she would strangle him for the indiscretion. Instead, she giggled happily, his touch flooding her ultra-sensitive ass with a heavy dose of dopamine.

  “Now,” sa
id Castle, sitting on the edge of Tiffany's desk, “what's this all about, babe?”

  Tiffany was shaking. “Y-you-you...y-you know what it's all about!”

  Her voice wouldn't turn into the furious crescendo of rage that she wanted. All she could manage was a thoroughly giggly chirp.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You just want me barefoot and pregnant, don’t you! That's what this whole thing has been about, hasn't it!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You look terrific in heels. Look at you. You're walking dynamite. What on earth would I want you barefoot for?”

  Tiffany hadn’t considered that. That made so, so much sense.

  She did look terrific in heels, after all.

  And the the knowledge that Castle thought she looked terrific in heels made everything all better, somehow. Suspicious thoughts fled her mind for a final time. Some part of her tried desperately to hold onto them, but it was just so much nicer to think about how Castle thought she looked “terrific.”

  Terrifically sexy, probably. Titanous terrific titties titillating this tanned trillionaire. Something something.

  She giggled again, stepping forward and pushing her tight busty body into Castle's. Her soft face nuzzled into his arm, bright eyes looking up into his devilishly handsome face. There was something wrong with all of this, but thinking was so very hard when he was such a fucking stud.

  “I-I just don’t understand,” said Tiffany, her voice high and needy. “What are you doing here?”

  “I own this team now, love.” He stroked her beautiful face. Tiffany tried—and failed—to suppress a deep, longing moan. Her breasts swelled against her tiny top. His touch was like God’s. She felt full of love for him, full of desire. “I own this stadium. I own everything here. Didn’t you read all those contracts I sent over?”

  “I...I had...like...” she frowned and stamped her feet. “Reading is hard.”

  “It really is, for girls like you. Isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “So won’t you like, give me a pass?”

  “A pass?” He looked bemused.

  “Y-yeah! Can’t you, um, like, just give me the things I want? I mean...” she slipped her hand against his cock. “I know you like how pretty I am, Stanny baby. I know you’ve always liked that. It could be just like old times.”