Chapter Ten

Carmen staggered through the swinging door of the women’s locker room as though drunk.

There was no handy dandy trash can to kick this time and she wasn’t sure she could have managed it if there was. Carmen wasn’t angry, the fury that so often armored her twisted heart was shockingly absent, instead she was on the verge of ugly tears of frustration.

“Wha–What’s happening to me?”

Her body felt hot, sweaty and thick. Her knotted-up jersey was working a double-shift as a hammock for two frankly stupendous knockers pouring out of every open angle of her dangerously ill-fitting bra. The ivory lycra straps were pulled so thin and taut that Carmen didn’t know how she was supposed to get the breath-stealing underclothing off.

Because Carmen really needed to get off…

“Fuuuuck…”

The hotspot between the once-fiery young woman’s rippling thighs was building like a forest fire and making her knees knock together as she almost tripped on her way to the back wall of changing room mirrors.

How the fuck was she so goddamn horny after that humiliating showing?

At least the horrifying rips and tears in her blue activewear bottoms made it easier to access the source of ignition. The soothing wash of the cool climate-controlled air across her bare sensitive folds only fanned the ardent flames below. Her once-practical cotton panties were drawn tight as a guitar string across her flaring hips and the tensile gusset sank deep into her dewy cleft applying appalling pressure to her thrumming clitty as she reached for it.

“Hrrnngh~!”

The slightest strum almost took the legs out from under Carmen as she lurched sideways into a steel locker with a loud crash and an animal whine of desperation.

This was like her, not at all!

Carmen didn’t get excited at the prospect of her own failures in front of others. Where was the burning desire to see someone hurting? All the flustered college athlete could feel was a yawning emptiness in her puffy nethers that yearned to be filled. To be stuffed deliciously full with something long, hard and thick…

Carmen floundered on unsteady feet, using the lockers for support as she finally reached the bank of mirrors.

“Andrew Turner has a ten inch tallywacker - ‘92”

Her watering eyes locked onto the scrawled graffiti at the top of the glass and Carmen licked at her bee-stung lips. She lacked much up close and personal experience with the male appendage, for reasons she couldn’t clearly remember. Ten inches did sound like a lot though but would that be enough to quench the feverish inferno blazing down below decks?

How was she supposed to find this Andrew Turner person anyway? If the date was to be believed, the listed owner of the much lauded fuckstaff would have graduated decades ago…

Then Carmen’s big brown eyes drifted down to her own reflection and she almost shrieked in panic.

She was fucking huge!

Well… parts of her certainly were. The olive-skinned coed was still her average five and five in height but a lot of her body had expanded to boggling, wobbling proportions. Her clothing hadn’t shrunk, Carmen had inflated like a goddamn flotation device.

Her tits and ass were packing some serious freight, a fleshy collection of hefty round hemispheres exploding from her toned young body. Vast hips and broad thighs transitioned cartoonishly up into a waspish waist and down to slender calves respectively.

Carmen looked like an overemphasized caricature of the classic hourglass figure, plumped up and juiced out to the ****. Under the merciless glare of the fluorescent lighting every swollen inch of her sweat-slickened flesh was highlighted in agonizing detail.

Even her shoulder length raven hair hadn’t been spared. The white scrunchy that had bunched up her ponytail close to her skull was bobbing close to Carmen’s lower back, securing the end a voluminous mess of silky midnight tresses that hung like a long fluffy panther tail down past her trembling butt.

The weight of it alone should have been crinking her slender neck…

“What… Why?” Carmen sobbed, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mirror and staring in confusion at the uber-voluptuous copy of herself who returned the bewildered expression in kind.

“That you need to ask is disappointing, dear.” A richly accented voice said from behind her.

For the second time that day–not that she recalled the first–Carmen looked over the shoulder of her reflection and spotted the gorgeous blonde woman in the smart black skirt-suit standing a few feet inside the door behind her. The older lady’s irises were icy novas of gunmetal gray agate that bore into the curvy Latina like augers.

“You… Did you do this to me?” Carmen wailed, fuck but her nipples were sore. Compressed. They ached in a syncopathic rhythm with her wet, vacant pussy with every beat of her racing heart. “Why? I’ve never done anything to you!”

“You must call me Ms Makarova. We have not met before today, this thing is true.” The beautiful stranger clicked over to a bench seat in her tall black pumps and dropped an expensive looking handbag onto it. “But I know the type of woman you are, Miss Perez and what you enjoy doing to other people. What you did to my Darling.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Carmen gasped, a stab of fear cutting through her unwelcome arousal. “This is all a big mistake…”

“Mistake? Yes, you have made many mistakes. You wish to break things because you yourself are broken.” Ms Makarova stated matter-of-factly as she rummaged through her purse. “You believe you are strong so you take what you desire from the weak. I understand this, such is the wicked way of the world. But you show a lack of wisdom when you try to wound a Lion.”

What the hell was this crazy gringo talking about… lions?

Carmen was burning up and blowing up simultaneously, and this mad bitch wanted to talk about some David Attenborough bullshit? She eyed the door on the far end of the locker room and wondered if she could keep her knees from giving out long enough to reach it.

“I don’t understand.” She hedged, trying to straighten up then doubling over again at another pussy-clutching surge of desire. “Oh gawd~!”

“I can see that and it saddens me. I say to myself ‘Alina, this is a sick little girl. Why does nobody help her?’ But I am no doctor, that was my late husband’s calling. However, he did leave behind a great many interesting experiments when he passed… where is it? Ah, I have it now.”

The buxom blonde straightened then turned to Carmen. In her lily-white hands was a large black vibrator.

The damn thing was ginormous and resembled a bludgeoning weapon more than a standard pleasure aid. It might have doubled as a lurid rolling pin if not for the intimidating array of pronounced bumps and ridges covering the dark rubberized surface.

Abuela’s cookies would have looked very strange indeed…

The monumental sex toy looked industrialized, made to service farm animals rather than people but drool gathered on Carmen’s lips at the sight of it. Her toes curled inside her cleats preemptively as Ms Makarova held it up to the light as though inspecting it.

“Doctors used such things as this to treat hysteria in women many, many years ago. Funny, no?” Alina commented conversationally, as though she were discussing an particularly interesting exhibit at the museum. “I sometimes wonder how many lonely women felt hysterical simply so they could visit these silly doctors.”

Carmen wanted to say that she may have been feeling a small bout of hysteria coming on but the sight of that monster in the other woman’s small hands left her tongue tied and sweating bullets.

Alina stepped closer, ran a critical eye over the olive-skinned college student and sighed. Carmen’s gaze remained fixed on the oversized selfie stick where the mouthy foreigner patted it against her palm like a truncheon.

“I am not like you, Miss Perez. I am not an unkind woman who enjoys the suffering of others. I have seen too much of that for one lifetime, but neither can I allow you to continue as you are.” The tall blonde’s frosty gray eyes drew Carmen in like jungle quicksand. “Hard and jagged like a broken blade, cutting and tearing at all you touch. Women should be soft, you must learn to be soft. There is great pleasure and rewards to be found in softness. I will teach you this thing, yes?”

The alluring lady’s melodic voice and talk about softness was like deja vu, tugging at the folds of Carmen’s curdling brain. She wanted to question it, to question her, and either fight or flee. Do anything but lean against the cool, relaxing surface of the mirror and finger her hot, gushing pussy through the rip in her spandex pants.

What was she doing?

Andrew Turner has a ten inch tallywacker.

She couldn’t look away as her vision was dominated by Ms Makarova’s gunmetal stare but Carmen could feel her own hands working desperately between her thick thighs without her bidding them do so. As though her body recognized her deep carnal need and declared carte blanche to sate its lewd demands independent of her conscious mind. Her traitorous fingers stroked and twisted ravenously, pushed past the taut band of her lace panties that split her girly folds and rubbed euphorically against her hard little nubbin.

“I–I don’t… Nyaa~! I can’t… need it. Need to…” Carmen wheezed, her clothing glued to her tanned flesh with glistening perspiration, the white soccer jersey growing translucent across her over-inflated, distended tits.

“I know what you need, poor girl and I will not withhold it from you.” Alina said in a breathy whisper as she raised the gigantic vibrator to her plush ruby lips and gave it a broad, sensuous lick. “But I require you to ask for it. I will not waste my precious time teaching those who have no desire to learn. Is this not a school after all?”

Dios but Alina was so beautiful and a raw feminine presence seemed to press down on Carmen like crushing mountain of base animal lust. Her back slid down glass until she was seated on the cold tiles with her knees spread wide apart in a puddle of her spreading juices. Moaning throatily like some feral bitch in heat.

Carmen knew this was all wrong, knew she shouldn’t look this way or feel this way but her frantic trimming of her sopping cunt was only aggravating her carnal condition rather than bringing sordid relief. None of her tried-and-true methods of self-stimulation were doing anything more than edging the raven-haired coed and making her writhe like a landed eel on the changing room floor.

“I neeeed~ it!” She squeaked, finding it terribly hard to breathe past the strangling tightness of her increasingly obsolete chest support. One final, **** plea for gratification. “Please… Mmmnph! I–I need you to help me, Ms Makarova!”

“Of course, child.” The mesmerizing blonde smiled indulgently down at her and bent until her creamy overflowing cleavage was level with Carmen’s sweaty face. She had such brilliant long legs and wonderful full breasts. “We will have to be quick. I told my Darling that I was going to powder my nose. He is such a kind and sensitive soul, and would not understand, I think. My Lion is not ready, not yet…”

The once-fiery soccer starlet didn’t know what Alina was talking about and it didn’t matter once the gringo knockout twisted the base of the sex toy and it began to whir loudly like a single prop aircraft preparing to take flight.

“Yes, oh, fucking gawd, yes!” Carmen begged as the older woman batted away her nectar-soaked fingers, pulled back the high-strung bowstring of her panties and plunged the monstrous tool into her readily dripping depths.

“Hhrrrnfff~!”

The incredible girth stretched her pristine folds to new dimensions, each ridge and rubber stud felt in exquisite detail as they passed into her saturated channel. Carmen's mind was blitzed by a barrage of explosive blissful sensations and she cried to the high heavens through spittle coated lips.

The buzzing was reduced to a muted humming as the delicious device sank into depths Carmen herself had never plumbed. It battered at her slick walls and **** her love-tunnel further apart than ever. Surprisingly there was no pain, barely any discomfort even, only slack-jawed ecstasy that filled her warping mind like brilliant white light.

“There, you see now don’t you?” Alina purred, her enchanting face scant inches from Carmen’s own. Close enough to taste her hot breath on the young sportswoman’s lolling tongue. “Pleasure without need for pain. Your soft, willing body accepting it. Give yourself over to me. A young woman can allow herself a small thing like this, yes?”

“Y–Yes, Ms Makarova…”

It didn’t feel so small to Carmen, she had never felt so incredibly full. It was as though the massive thrumming intrusion had punched all the air out of her lungs from the inside. The wind whistled through her flaring nostrils as she struggled to get it back.

“No more hurting, nothing but long, joyful bliss. No more hardness… so unnecessary! Just warm welcoming womanly softness and all the endless gratification it can bring. What has all your fight and struggles given you compared to that?”

“Wha-what?”

Part of Carmen sensed that she was perched atop a treacherously slippery slope.

A craggy peak of social and athletic superiority she had conquered by stepping on the necks of her scholastic peers. So many years of training and sniping and sneering, only to be sorely tempted to cast it all aside and leap out into the unknown. To float like a feather on a bubblegum-scented breeze down into a bottomless ravine of libidinous delights and prurient indulgence.

The alluring Alina was close enough to kiss.

Close enough to lick or bury her face in the older woman’s spectacular cleavage where it was all but spilling out from between her jacket's lapels. Her slim fingers were wrapped around the metallic base of the enormous sex toy and pressed up against Carmen’s sodden folds. Not thrusting or twisting it as the lusty Latina might have desired after the first ecstatic penetration, just holding it there, buried deep and vibrating and waiting expectantly for a reply.

Andrew Turner has a ten inch tallywacker.

“I want it… I–I don’t want to be hard or hurt anymore!” Carmen keened, her pretty skull beating back against the mirror in maddened remorse, threatening to crack the looking glass if not for the thick pillow of her exceedingly long, dark ponytail. “I want to feel fu–full and happy and soft.”

“Good girl, good girl.” The words sounded so soothing in the mature beauty’s exotic musical tones. The balm for a twisted soul as the mysterious Ms Makarova leaned in and pecked gently on her blushing cheek. "Trust in old Alina, she will make you better."

Then she adjusted the setting on the vibrator, pistoned her wrist in a short pumping motion and Carmen began to howl.

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