chapter 2

He stepped back and gestured for her to pose. "Bend over," he instructed, his voice firm. "And pull your cheeks apart. Let's get a good view of that tight little asshole."

With trembling hands, Piage obeyed, bending at the waist and spreading her cheeks wide. The cool breeze hit her exposed, abused asshole, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The young man circled her, snapping pictures from every angle, his eyes gleaming with excitement. She could feel the sticky mess of cum leaking down her thighs, making her feel dirty and used.

"That's it, kitty," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "You're a natural."

With a sense of defeat, Piage did as she was told, her hands shaking as she reached back to grip the edges of her bruised asshole. The young man circled her, his phone camera flashing with every click. Each snap of the shutter was like a nail in the coffin of her dignity.

"Wider," he urged, and she complied, feeling her asshole gaping further apart. The pain was unbearable, but the nanomachines within her ensured she didn't tear, only stretching her to the limits of human endurance. He stepped closer, taking a few more pictures, zooming in on the stretched, pulsing ring of muscle.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Now, let's get some of your pretty face in there, too." He reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into the camera. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her makeup smeared from the tears and sweat, but she knew better than to resist.

The flash of the camera was blinding, capturing the moment of her utter degradation. She could feel the cum dripping from her mouth, the taste of each man's seed still lingering on her tongue. Her body was a battleground, marked with bruises and the evidence of their depravity. Yet, she remained standing, a testament to the resilience the nanomachines had granted her.

"Now, let's get some action shots," the young man said, his voice gleeful. He stepped back, and Piage felt the panic rising in her chest. "Fuck yourself with your tail, kitty."

Her tail, a synthetic appendage she wore as part of her costume, was thick and covered in fur. The thought of using it as he suggested was repulsive, but she had ****. The nanomachines didn't care about her feelings, only her ability to perform. With a shaking hand, she reached behind her and inserted the tip into her still-stretched asshole. The sensation was alien, the fabric of her tail sliding into her with a sickening ease.

The young man's eyes gleamed as he watched her, his own cock still hard as he took more photos. "That's it," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Fuck yourself like the good little slut you are."

The words sent a shiver down Piage's spine, and she couldn't help but obey. The tail slid deeper into her, filling her up and sending waves of painful pleasure through her body. Her pussy was sore from the previous use, but the nanomachines ensured she remained wet and receptive. She pushed the tail in and out of her asshole, feeling her insides clench around it with every movement.

The young man's eyes widened, his breathing growing ragged as he watched her. "Yeah, that's it," he panted, his cock twitching with every stroke. "Fuck yourself like that, kitty. Show me how much you like it."

Her hand was shaking as she complied, the fabric of her tail sliding in and out of her abused hole. The pain was intense, but the nanomachines within her ensured that she remained aroused, her body responding despite her mind's screams of protest. The tail was thick and rough, the sensation of it filling her up bringing tears to her eyes.

The young man watched with a sadistic smile, his own cock jutting out from his pants, thick and veiny. "Now, grab your purse," he said, gesturing to the small bag at her feet. "It's time for the grand finale."

With a trembling hand, Piage picked up her purse, the leather cool against her skin. It was a more a back pack in the shape of a cat filled with the essentials she needed for her online persona. She had no idea what he meant, but she knew better than to ask questions. With a sense of dread, she handed it to him, her eyes never leaving the ground.

The young man took the bag and unzipped it, revealing a mess of glitter, makeup, and various props. His eyes lit up with excitement as he began to pull out handfuls of glitter and throw them into the air. They rained down on her, sparkling in the sunlight and sticking to her sweat-soaked body.

"Open wider," he demanded, his voice harsh. "Take it all, kitty."

With trembling hands, Piage tried to hold her cheeks apart as wide as she could, her eyes squeezed shut. The young man approached her, holding the small cat-shaped backpack, the zipper gaping open like a maw of darkness. The weight of it was surprising, filled with the glitter and makeup she used for her online persona. He pushed the bag closer, and she felt the cold leather against her swollen, abused asshole.

"Take it all, kitty," he growled, pushing the bag into her with a sickening ****. Piage's body resisted at first, the fabric of the backpack scraping against her bruised insides. But the nanomachines within her took over, stretching her asshole wider than she ever thought possible. She gasped as the bag began to disappear into her, inch by inch, the fabric stretching and conforming to her body's new shape.

The young man's eyes were wild with excitement as he watched the bag slide into her. She could feel the weight of it in her stomach, the glitter and makeup shifting as it settled inside her. Her asshole stretched taut around the zipper, the metal digging into her flesh but not breaking the skin. The crowd was gone now, leaving them alone in the park, but she could feel the echoes of their cheers, their lustful gazes burned into her skin.

With a final shove, the bag was completely buried, the cat ears sticking out from the edges of her gaping asshole like twisted decorations. The sight was grotesque, a perverse parody of the costume she had worn so proudly just moments ago. She felt so full, so used, and she knew that this was just the beginning of her new life in this twisted world.

"Look at you," he said, his voice filled with awe and lust. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Piage could feel the bag inside her, the weight of it pressing down on her insides. She wanted to scream, to beg for it to end, but the nanomachines kept her silent, her mouth frozen in a permanent state of readiness. The young man took a step back and surveyed his handiwork, his eyes lingering on the cat ears poking out of her asshole.

"You're going to be famous, kitty," he said, his voice low and hungry. "I'm going to upload these pictures and videos, and everyone's going to see what a good little slut you are."

The words were like a knife to her heart, but she couldn't respond. The nanomachines didn't care about her feelings, only her compliance. She could feel her asshole contracting around the bag, the fabric cutting into her, but she couldn't move. She was trapped in this hellish tableau, a living testament to the depravity of the new world order.

The young man took a few more pictures, his hand shaking with excitement. "Now, hold that pose," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Don't move until I'm done."

Piage remained still, her body a canvas of humiliation. The glitter from the bag sparkled in the sun, mixing with the sweat and cum that covered her. She felt like a discarded doll, used up and tossed aside. But she knew better than to disobey. The nanomachines had taken away any semblance of control she had over herself, turning her into nothing more than a living prop for his twisted desires.

The young man stepped back, his camera capturing her from every angle. She could feel the bag moving inside her as she breathed, the weight shifting with each inhale and exhale. The pain was intense, but she had **** but to endure it. The thought of her new reality being shared with the world made her stomach turn, but she knew it was inevitable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the young man was satisfied. He lowered his phone, a smug smile playing on his lips as he looked her up and down. "Good job, kitty," he said, patting her on the head. "You've got quite the future ahead of you."

The humiliation was complete, and the weight of the bag in her asshole was a constant reminder of her new role in society. As she stood there, her knees threatening to buckle under the strain, she heard the distant sound of sirens approaching. The young man's eyes widened in alarm, and he began to back away, his erection slowly wilted. "Looks like we've got company," he said, tucking his cock back into his pants. "You're on your own now."

With a cruel laugh, he disappeared into the trees, leaving Piage alone and exposed. The sirens grew louder, and she knew the authorities were coming to break up the unsanctioned stretching event. Her heart raced with fear as she realized the consequences of what she had just endured. The cops were notorious for their brutality towards those who didn't conform to the new rules, and she knew that her stretched, cum-covered body would not garner any sympathy.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she bent down and managed to pull the bag free with a wet, squelching sound. The glitter and makeup spilled out, covering the ground in a sparkling mess. She quickly straightened up, the fabric of her torn skirt clinging to her sticky thighs. As the sirens grew closer, she stumbled away from the scene, her body feeling like it was on fire.

The pain was almost too much to bear, but she had to get away. The nanomachines kept her upright, but she could feel her body beginning to shut down from the overstimulation. Each step sent jolts of agony through her, her asshole pulsing and raw. She had to find a place to hide, to clean up, to try and make sense of the horror that had just been inflicted upon her.

As she stumbled through the park, she saw a bathroom in the distance. It was a small, run-down building, but it would have to do. She had to get clean, to erase the evidence of what had happened. The sirens grew closer, and she could see flashing lights in the distance. With renewed urgency, she picked up her pace, her heels sinking into the soft grass.

Inside the bathroom, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it, her chest heaving. The stench of sex and sweat filled the small space, making her gag. But she had to be quick. She pulled off her skirt and tube top, the fabric sticking to her bruised and abused skin. The cold porcelain of the sink was a stark contrast to the heat of her body as she turned on the faucet and began to wash herself clean.

The water stung her wounds, but she didn't care. She scrubbed at her body with paper towels, trying to remove the cum and glitter that clung to her like a second skin. The bruises on her breasts and thighs were already beginning to form, dark purple against her pale flesh. Her asshole was still gaping wide, a reminder of the **** she had suffered.

As she cleaned herself, she couldn't help but think about the world outside. The new world order had no mercy, no escape. The nanomachines had enslaved her, transformed her into a living sex doll for the entertainment of men. Every step she took, every move she made, was a testament to the control they had over her. The rules were clear: she existed to be used, to satisfy the twisted desires of anyone who could overpower her.

The sirens grew louder, and she knew she had to hurry. The cops wouldn't care about her story, wouldn't listen to her protests. In their eyes, she was just another whore, a willing participant in the public stretching shows that had become so popular. If they caught her like this, she'd be thrown into a cell with even more depraved men, eager to see how much further she could stretch.

With trembling hands, Piage managed to pull her torn skirt back into place and fix her makeup as best she could. The cat-girl mask she had once loved now felt like a prison, a symbol of her new reality. But she had to keep moving, had to keep up the facade. If she didn't, she'd never survive in this world.

Her mind raced as she stepped out of the bathroom, the cool evening air hitting her like a slap in the face. She had to get home, had to lock herself away from the world that had betrayed her. The streets were eerily quiet, the only sound the distant wail of the sirens. She walked as quickly as she could, her heels clicking on the sidewalk, each step sending a jolt of pain through her torn asshole.

But she didn't dare run. The cops had eyes everywhere, and the last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself. The buildings loomed over her, their windows like the eyes of a million unseen predators. She knew that any one of them could be watching, waiting for their next chance to use her.

The journey home felt like an eternity, each step a battle against the pain and humiliation. But she made it, finally collapsing into her apartment. She locked the door behind her and leaned against it, her heart racing.