Chapter Four

“Dale! Oh my. Um… hi, Sweetie. Are you enjoying the party? Your party, I mean. Ah… it was awfully nice of you to invite me.”

Heather smiled brightly as Dale trapped her against the hallway wall, his muscular arms caging her. She didn’t scowl or turn cold like she had the last couple of times he had tried turning on the charm. That was progress, right?

“It was, wasn’t it?” He slurred, leaning in to sniff her silvery hair. She smelled like the first day of spring. The girthy hardness in his slacks brushed against her slender thigh. “I threw the whole thing just for you, dontcha know. Wanted to impress the shit outta you, Babe.”

She tittered cutely. Dale had never heard her do something as basic as giggling–Heather had the snobby laugh with a heaping helping of sneer that was bred into rich chicks, but this new sound was… nice. Warm and very girlish.

“Oh, Dale. You didn’t need really go to all this effort for little ol’ me.” Her normally schooled expression was flushed, and her upturned nose kept twitching. “Gosh, it’s loud in here… and dreadfully hot. Pardon me, Sweetie. I’m just going to step outside for a spot of fresh air.”

Sweetie?

Lacking the usual derisive bite of condescension, the word sounded like an actual endearment, and Dale stepped closer to cut off Heather's escape attempt. Her hands rose to flutter across his broad chest, and even through the linen shirt, the contact felt incredible.

“You don’t wanna go outside. Pretty sure there’s–” He turned his head to let rip a boozy belch. It would have been rude to blow one directly in her elegant face. “Scuse me… I’m pretty sure there’s a bunch of people fucking on the front lawn.”

“Um, they’re doing it in here too,” Heather murmured, gnawing her kissable lower lip, fingers unconsciously tracing his pectoral muscles while she glanced nervously about. “Goodness, it’s all over the house. The smell and feel of it is… almost too much. Uh, can we maybe go someplace quieter?”

She was so tiny and **** in that moment. The sharp, bitchy edges gone as he loomed over the petite blonde. She was fragile and delicate, like one of those dolls made from fine china his mother collected. His impossibly hard cock bucked in his pants, trying to get at her like an attack dog.

Tonight was going better than expected!

“Come with me, babe.”

Somewhere quieter? Sure. Dale was feeling downright gallant when he seized her wrist to lead them away from the debauchery. A chastity ring gleamed on one finger, and Heather let out an adorable squeak as he tugged her towards the stairs. The chapter president’s private suite–his suite–was on the top floor, safe from prying eyes and ears.

They could… get to know each other better there.

Heather was a mewling mess where she knelt, leaking all over the bathroom floor.

Everything about the queen of Delta Xi Gamma dripped.

Spilled water and sweat dripped from her borrowed clothes. The white schoolgirl blouse was torn and soaked translucent, clinging to her enormous knockers like wet tissue paper. Prilla didn’t wear a bra, so Heather’s pointy nipples stood out stark and pink under the drenched cotton fabric.

Glistening nectar dripped from her plush mound, pooling on the tiles under a wide, wobbly butt and thick thighs. Black lace panties made for a far leaner frame dug into freakishly lush hips, flossing her ass crack and parting her pussy lips like the world's smallest g-string.

Saliva dripped from her plush dick-sucking lips in thin tendrils, adding a wet sheen to the steep slopes of her porcelain cleavage. The puckered face pillows formed a natural ‘O’ shape as she rode out the endless train of scrumptious cums.

Thoughts dripped from her mind under the overwhelming **** of rapturous pleasure. It came from all directions, a powerful external **** crushing in on Heather as though a third eye attuned to raucous, deranged perversion had opened on her forehead, inundating her frail mortal brain with a lifetime supply of degenerate images and lewd emotions.

She could somehow feel the party outside. It thrummed like a nuclear reactor of youthful passion and hormonal urges. It supercharged her uber-voluptuous body, demanding to be sated, clamoring for release.

“Someone… help. Ooomph~! Help… me.”

Heather’s lengthy hair was completely blue now. It stuck to her perspiring face and bare shoulders in glossy strands of lapis lazuli. The awful thirst was still there, but she didn’t dare drink any more water. Every swallowed mouthful seemed to expand her ridiculous tits, hips, and rear like catchment reservoirs.

Strangely, it hadn’t affected her tummy, which remained flat, nor her slender limbs or trim waistline. At the last glance in the mirror, she looked like an overinflated cartoon fuckdoll.

Besides, the thirst had changed. Mere H2O wouldn’t quench the blaze in her belly anymore. She needed something else. Something long and stiff to plug one of her hungry holes and hose down the wildfire scorching Heather from within.

“There you are, bae. I’ve been searching all over for you. It’s Prilla, right?” A smug, Chaddish voice drawled from the doorway. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a tizzy. Need a hand? Or maybe some other body part? I’m a registered donor either way.”

Heather twisted around to find the blockhead Jay leering at her. His brawny arms crossed lazily over his muscular chest with a definite bulge stuffed far down one trouser leg. Her mouth and snatch drooled for that meaty pole.

“Cock… c-cock! Pleeease~!” She chirped like a goddamn parakeet. Any pride or embarrassment whipped away at the prospect of sinful salvation from her torment. “Gimme that hard fucking cock. I neeeed it!”

“You sexy fairy hoes really are just a bunch of sex-crazed sluts.” He smirked, unlooping his belt and unzipping his fly. “Come on then. Get a taste. I want you to swallow me first before I dump a few babies into that soppy Fae puss.”

Heather almost wept with relief, crawling and dragging her gravid body towards the strapping jock, violet eyes locked on his massive manhood as it sprung free from his slacks.

She’d never even seen a real penis in person before. Forget about ever touching one. The prim and proper lady she was wouldn’t know the first thing about handling a male phallus.

But that stuck-up prude was gone, and whoever she was now received lurid instruction beamed directly into her soul on every wavelength. She was built for sex. Warped and transmogrified down to the molecular level to yearn for the flavor of a man in the back of her throat. Spiritually and magically restructured to crave virile mortal seed breeding her womb with masculine potency.

And Jay–a big, strong man–had commanded her to taste him. The words made her cum-starved stomach growl as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Prilla… yes. My name is Prilla.” She moaned, lifting her head to strop soft cheeks against his exposed rigidity like a happy sex-kitten. “That’s me. I’m Prilla.”

Making that distinction felt important for some reason.

If she was Prilla, then nobody would be shocked or scandalized if they were discovered. Dumb Fae sluts did depraved, unspeakable shit like sucking a giant, yum-yum cock in bathrooms all the time.

No one’s reputation would suffer if Prilla swirled her tongue greedily around his engorged, spunk-coated tip before slipping cushiony lips down the meaty shaft to eagerly asphyxiate herself on his enormity…

“Urg, ack, ack, hurk!”

“That’s it. All the way down.” Jay grunted, palming the back of her azure-haired skull. “I know you can do it, Prilla. You’re one horned-up bitch, ain’t ya?”

She was. She really, really was!

The heavenly sensation of a girthy fuckstaff distending her neck and cutting off her oxygen with proof of that. Prilla was edging something fierce, with his heavy balls nestled in her bounteous bosom and load-bearing hips humping the floor in desperation.

The hyper-sexual imagery and reckless impulses bombarding her mushy nympho brain guided her actions. It was Prilla expertly deep-throating the well-hung brute, not that other boring ninny who sought solace in meaningless status and the misery of her perceived lessers. It was Prilla firing on all cylinders to get this handsome stranger off.

He pumped harshly, violently, into her inhumanly porn-perfect face. Fucking it like a loose cunt. Hammering her fat, suckling lips until she gurgled in delight, only a finger breadth from his base.

Prilla took it all, staring up and begging him with her wide, violet eyes for more. She was so close, and only needed to feel him erupt to cross her own erogenous rubicon. If this human stud, this total hunk, could take her there, there’d be no return.

No escaping the youthful lust and carnal wonderland that was her erotically attuned new existence. To be unshackled from propriety and societal expectations. Freed to chase her deepest desires and fulfill every repressed fantasy in a way only Prilla could.

“Glurph!”

“Here I cum, you horny Fae whore!” Jay crowed, forcefully hilting himself against her sloppy chin. “Drink it all!”

Fresh pussy nectar splattered the tiles when he crammed his **** circumference deeper, her scream of heartfelt rapture muzzled by a gratuitous geyser of jism.

A euphoric warmth suffused Prilla’s middle, a pleasant fullness that finally banked the fires of all-consuming arousal. She held herself there, tight throat working diligently to swallow every last spurt of creamy seed before sliding slowly, languorously, back with an indulgent smirk of satisfaction and licking her cum-glossed lips.

“Wow… thanks so much, mister! Did you mention dropping a hot, fertile load in Prilla’s baby chamber? That would be, like, totally amazing, right?”

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