No

"Don't you want to feel pretty?"

Richie's words hung in the air like a challenge, her glossy thumb still circling his sensitive tip as she awaited his answer. James shook his head, his voice cracking as he managed to stutter, "I don't want to f-feel pretty."

A flicker of something, amusement? understanding?, crossed Danni's face as she grimaced, pressing her latex-clad form more firmly against his trembling back. She lightly nuzzled into the nape of his neck, her cherry-glossed lips brushing his skin as she whispered, "Oh, I had the same misgivings and now I'm an unabashed slut like you'll be."

Her words were soft, almost tender, yet carried an unyielding certainty that made James's stomach flip with equal parts fear and forbidden longing. Richie's grip tightened around his shaft, her strokes becoming more deliberate, more possessive, as if claiming what they both knew was already lost.

Richie raised her free hand, curling her glossy fingertips around the top of her outfit and pulling the tight fabric down in one fluid motion, exposing the erect, rosy nipples of her full, leaking breasts. She gave Danni a subtle wink, her plump lips curling into a knowing smile as twin beads of white corruptive milk welled at the tips.

Danni's hands moved with practiced urgency, her manicured fingers curling around the back of James's neck as she guided his surprised, trembling lips toward Richie's swollen nipple. "Drink up, baby girl," she whispered, her cherry-sweet breath hot against his ear, her voice a silken command that brooked no resistance, "and become a true slut." The first drop of sweet, thick milk touched his tongue, and James felt the last anchor of his old self slip away into a haze of heat and surrender.