Call for help

You try to struggle, but the Kennys have you totally overpowered. If you had any say in this it would be kind of fun, but under the current circumstances it's more terrifying than titillating. One of them grunts and spurts cum onto your left thigh, where the pool of warm liquid slowly oozes down your leg. A hand starts rubbing it along your skin. Kenny between your legs is still tickling your clit with his head; at least he hasn't penetrated - yet.

CUNT-Ball, isn't there anything you can do about this?

My options are limited, but I have contacted CUNT-Ball Three for help. Can you hold out for seventeen minutes and twelve seconds?

I'm not getting a lot of choice here!

True. But you should be thankful the 'N' stands for 'Network'.

Your tongue is working Kenny's shaft just so you can breathe; if he keeps up the inexpert thrusts you're going to vomit on him. He stiffens and pulls back a bit just before his seed erupts in your mouth. Your first taste of cum is muted when he plugs your nose and tilts your head back, forcing you to gulp and swallow the viscous fluid.

That seems to have been clit-tickler's cue; he drives his length up your tunnel and starts pounding. It's kind of like your dream only less pleasant. His fingers are inexpertly kneading your bud now, which is causing you to get more and more aroused despite the sense of fear and humiliation. Your right breast takes a spray from below centered on the nipple. What makes this the most awful is how many of them there are.

That's it! Another cock is heading for your mouth when you turn your head and shout "Combine!"

You drop face-down to the grass and crushing pain explodes from your breasts. You had meant to fly up but because of the shock all you can do is roll over onto your back. A hand clamps over your mouth and you get a close of a Kenny jacking his cock over your face. Your legs are pulled wide and another Kenny dry-thrusts into your twat; the only saving grace is that your pubes are already soaked and lubed. Another Kenny drops onto your chest and starts pushing your tits together with his dick in between. A double-load of cum soaks your tummy.

Did that help at all?

The number of duplicates using you has dropped from thirty-seven to twelve. Numerically, that is an advantage.

Grandma's escape artist training kicks in and you manage to shuck the handcuffs. You feel your strength returning but it's nowhere near enough. Your hands move out to try to push them away, which is a rookie mistake. A moment later you have a cock pressed into the palm of each hand. Someone is sucking your toes.

You consider squeezing and twisting with your hands but decide against it; the last thing you need is to get these guys angry. Instead you start pumping and stroking and hope that's what works.

How long have I got?

Nine minutes, twenty-three seconds.

One of the Kennys grabs your shoulders and hoists your body up. At least your mouth is... forget that, your mouth was free until another Kenny-cock went in. A moment later something wet and slimy slides into your ass and starts pumping. The sensation is squidgy and a lot less painful than you feared, and it pushes you to where your hips start vibrating and clenching. Note to self: not all orgasms are good. Another gush of spuzm hits you, this time on the hairline at the base of your neck. And the Kenny in your ass is licking it. Yuck!

You ask for the timer twice more: Seven minutes, thirty-eight seconds, then two minutes, ten seconds. You're dripping everywhere, the Kennys have swapped out and are manhandling your body which is coated with oozing slime. You've had another no-gasm and part of you just wants to crawl into a hole and die but the **** is showing no signs of letting up.

There's a small earthquake as something with a lot of momentum hits the ground. A hand touches the top of your head; there's a 'snick' sound and Kennys go flying in all directions.

CUNT-Ball announces, She's here.

You're staring at a set of mid-heel boots. Vertical red and white stripes rise up to dark-blue knee cops, each bearing a white star. Your eyes slide up along perfectly-sculpted legs to gold panties with pucker-lines outlining open labia and a fully-engorged clit. Above that are more vertical stripes that rise to a blue bust panel with two white stars, each textured by a nipple-bump and aureole. Above that is more flesh; décolletage plus bare arms and hands with nails painted in red-white stripes except for the thumbs that each have a white star on a blue background. An earnest and pretty face looks down between the perfectly-formed D-cups, blonde hair framing the gentle features and bright red lips. The combined effect of seeing her and relief at being rescued causes a squirming hot beautiful pressure that warms you from breast to bud.

"Sorry I'm late. Saturn was in a bad position so I had to swerve around it."

Maiden America helps you to your feet and holds you close. You feel guilty getting spudge all over her outfit but having your face pressed into that amazon chest and her gentle hands pressing you, one on your middle back and the other on your ass and your curves melding into hers is way too intense for any negative emotions. You are, quite simply, in heaven.

"Are you injured?"

"J-j-just my p-pride..."

"Then we'd best get you cleaned up. A little humility doesn't hurt, but only in moderation."

She presses you closer and you get a sensation of moving very fast. A moment later you land on a perfectly-manicured lawn. The stars are shining overhead along with... a three-quarter Earth?