Surrender completely — let Pan and her creatures use you until the costume's condition is fulfilled.

Pandora's Box Costume Shop, Birch Street, at 12:14 AM on Thursday October 31st, 2024

I stop fighting. I stop thinking. I let every wall inside me crumble and dissolve, and what rushes in to fill the empty space is pure, white-hot need.

Pan drives into me and my world fractures into sensation. Her cock splits me open — thicker than before, impossibly thick, stretching my new pussy wide around its girth. I feel every vein, every ridge, every throbbing pulse of blood through that massive shaft as it sinks inch by devastating inch into my dripping cunt. My walls clench around her desperately, trying to pull her deeper, and she obliges with a brutal thrust that bottoms out against my cervix.

"There it is," she groans, her hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. "Good kitten. Take all of it."

Sable's tentacle in my mouth begins to thrust — slow, rhythmic strokes that push past my tongue and into my throat. It secretes that warm aphrodisiac slime and my throat relaxes around it, my jaw going slack, drool and slick running down my chin in thick streams. The taste is sweet and addictive, coating my tongue, making me suck harder, desperate for more. Ink's mouthed tentacles find my breasts, latching onto my nipples through the bikini top with wet, sucking mouths that pull and tease until I'm screaming around the tentacle in my throat.

Then the second tentacle pushes into my ass.

The stretch is obscene — my sphincter yielding around the thick, slick appendage as it slides deep, deeper, filling me from behind while Pan fills me from the front. I'm impaled on three massive objects and my body sings with it. Every nerve fires at once. My tail wraps around Sable's probing tentacle and pulls it deeper into my ass, my hips rocking between the three penetrations, unable to stay still.

"Three holes, three cocks," Pan pants, setting a punishing rhythm. Her balls slap against my ass with every thrust, heavy and full. "You're going to come so hard for me, kitten. You're going to come until you can't remember anything but my cock."

She's right. The orgasm builds from somewhere impossible — not my clit, not my pussy, but from every cell of my body simultaneously. The tentacle in my mouth fucks my throat in counterpoint to Pan's thrusts. The one in my ass pistons with its own rhythm. Ink's mouths devour my nipples. My tail thrashes. My ears flatten. The bell on my collar chimes frantically.

"Say it," Pan commands, her voice ragged. "Tell me what you are."

"Mmph — fffucktoy —" I manage around the tentacle, the words garbled and desperate. "Your — your breedable little fucktoy —"

"That's right." She slams into me so hard the bench scrapes across the floor. "And you're going to take every drop."

The orgasm hits like a supernova.

My pussy clamps down on Pan's cock so hard she cries out. My ass clenches. My throat constricts. Every muscle in my body seizes and I scream — a raw, animal sound muffled by the tentacle filling my mouth. My pussy gushes around her shaft, squirting hot slick across both our thighs, my walls milking her cock in violent contractions. I feel her tip press against my deepest point and then she erupts — thick, scalding ropes of cum flooding my womb in pulse after pulse. Sable follows, both tentacles swelling and disgorging hot slime into my throat and ass simultaneously, filling me until it overflows from both ends. Ink's mouths suck harder on my nipples and I come again, a second peak crashing over the first, my body convulsing between the three of them.

The costume dissolves.

But something is wrong.

The tingling that usually precedes reversion starts — and then stops. Halfway. My breasts shrink slightly but don't disappear. My hips remain wide. The ears twitch atop my head. The tail curls behind me. Between my legs, my pussy remains — wet, swollen, still dripping with Pan's cum. My cock doesn't return.

Pan pulls out slowly, her softening cock sliding free with a wet pop. Cum gushes from my pussy in a thick white stream. She looks down at me with those molten amber eyes and her smile is absolute.

"Oh, kitten," she whispers, cupping my flushed face. "You're not changing back."

The bell on my collar chimes once — clear and final.