Not for our cheerleaders

Mother and Daughter were exhausted. The **** air was clearing and their **** actions began to dawn on them. The feeling of tears welling up in their eyes began to build but nothing come out. Their eyes were wet but the tears stayed exactly there, in their eyes. The fact that they could no longer express any emotion of their own only broke them down further. As much as they wanted to curl up and cry together, their Sense-Sheath encased bodies wouldn't allow it.

They're "master" would have them return to the others and apply the makeup to them as well. The armadillo enjoyed his control over their facial expressions as there were **** to give each other various faces. Ranging from ridiculous to sultry. Then they would resume their captive lives. Dancing and experimenting being their main priorities.

Meanwhile back at Mr. Drake's home, an email was received from an anonymous email. The subject read "An update for dear old dad" and the body simply read:

I hope you've handled Anne and Marcia's **** well Mr. Drake. I've made great use of your technology and improved it significantly. As a thank you, I will show you proof that your dear cheerleaders are still safe and sound.

-The Armadillo