Decrees

(originally Posted by YearEnds)

Kira frantically fingered herself as she waited for the last few reporters to finish servicing Jason. She couldn't stop, as much as she wanted to--when she stood up after swallowing Jason's load, he had whispered a command in her ear and she had felt compelled to follow it. She'd already come to forty orgasms and was on the brink of yet another.

Finally, the last woman finished her duties and returned to her seat, her tongue darting out around her lips to make sure she got all of Jason's spunk. Cum was still spurting weakly from Jason's cock, but he ignored it and let it pool on the floor.

"Good work, everyone," he said, and Kira shuddered as a small orgasm overcame her. She saw everyone else shudder at the same time. "Now, I would like to show you something."

Jason waved his hand and a huge screen appeared with a video projected on it seemingly from nowhere. Kira watched with interest.

The scene was the concert about which she'd heard, but she hadn't seen any video of it. She watched as she heard Jason proclaim himself as God to his audience, then change his fans into sexpots, though not to the extent that she and her colleagues had been altered.

"You may be wondering why you have been altered so much more than they were. The answer is that you are now my personal press corps. Each of you has covering me as her sole duties, and your reports will take up the first five minutes of every newscast and the front page of every newspaper. I, in return, will bring you with me on my travels around this planet so that you don't miss a second of what I do, except tonight, when I expect you to fuck each other silly."

Kira smiled and reached out to tweak her Bolivian neighbour's right nipple. She returned the favour by running her hand over Kira's smooth cunt. Similar displays of lust were seen around the room.

"Good," said Jason, "but save that for later. I still have a few more things to say.

"My next commandment will seem harsh, but as you will see it is necessary. I am God, and so I must have some form of worship. As I am a singer, I will be worshipped through my music. What this means is that every country must maintain some sort of weekly top songs chart, and that every week, one of my songs must be at the top. If I am not, I will randomly kill one percent of that country's population, and all those whom I kill in this way will be damned to harsh, eternal torment in hell."

Like all of her colleagues, Kira scribbled frantically. Was the man insane?

"I am not insane, merely demanding. And I will know if the charts are being faked. It is quite simple: any country that refuses to listen to my music more than any other will suffer the consequences of their failure. I will continue to release albums and singles at my usual pace, but if I ever decide to take a break, you will simply have to listen to my older material."

Kira took a deep breath, then another. She hated Jason's music. It was completely derivative and every time her local radio station played it--which was mercifully infrequent--she turned it off and put on something by Cui, Mussorgsky or Tchaikovsky.

"As for you all, while you are exempt from this particular edict, I have changed your musical tastes to enjoy my music and mine alone."

Kira shuddered as she realized that she couldn't even remember the Promenade from Pictures at an Exhibition, or the ending of the 1812 Overture. Instead Jason's first hit, the bla--brilliantly named "I Wrote A Song To Say I Love You", ran through her head, and she felt her right foot tapping in time to its rhythm.

"One thing that people might ask is whether I will answer prayers. It is certainly within my capabilities to do so, and I have in fact done so for a few lucky people. In general I will not answer your prayers; if I appear to do so, it is almost certainly simply me indulging myself. However I encourage you to pray to me, as should your country ever fail to listen to my music sufficiently, I am more likely to spare the lives of those more devoted to me. As a sign, I will now answer a prayer, live on air."

--

Kim watched the press conference intently, but Annabelle's eyes kept darting toward her Chinese friend.

Suddenly Emma smacked Annabelle. "Hey look, it's us!"

Annabelle's eyes widened as she saw the screen reappear and display what seemed to be a live feed of them watching the press conference on their own TV.

"Now," said Jason, "one of these three girls is praying quite intently for something. Let's see which one it is."

The three girls watched as thought bubbles appeared over their heads on the screen, then filled in with text. Kim and Emma's bubbles simply said something about how sexy Jason was, but Annabelle blushed bright red as hers appeared.

"I WISH MY FRIEND KIM WAS A LESBIAN SO WE COULD FUCK BECAUSE I AM SO TURNED ON RIGHT NOW. AND I WISH WE WERE HOTTER, TOO, SO THAT JASON WOULD WANT TO FUCK US."

Kim turned to her in shock.

"A girl after my own heart," said the all-powerful pop star. "Not right now, Annabelle, but some day, I promise." He blew a kiss at the screen and Annabelle screamed in orgasm.

"But as for your wishes, I will grant them."

A visible blast shot from Jason's hand, into the screen and out of the Jones's TV, where it branched into two and struck the teenagers.

Annabelle felt excited as her body changed once more. She felt as if she were growing older, and certainly she was getting curvier. She felt her tits and ass inflate, until her boobs were the size of watermelons. Her waist shrank, and she knew her body was hairless below the eyes. Her dress shrank into skimpy green lingerie and she knew her face had been altered again to look like a young porn star. She felt herself getting taller, too, until she overtopped her Asian friend by a full eighteen inches.

She watched as Kim changed also, becoming even curvier than Annabelle. Her top became pasties, while her miniskirt became a large belt. Her boots remained--Annabelle was happy about that--but her face, too, changed and gained make-up even heavier than her friend's. She was pierced seemingly everywhere a person could be pierced, including multiple gems dangling from her pussy.

Suddenly Kim knelt down in front of Annabelle, head bowed, and said in a voice just loud enough to be heard, "Take me, mistress. Use me. I am yours forever."

Jason interrupted the scene. "And she is. Annabelle wanted not just a lesbian lover, as the surface thoughts I showed you said, but a lesbian ****, and so I have granted her prayer. Of course, Kim might later pray to be released from her servitude, and I may grant that then."

He signalled the cameras to return to the screen. "Can I, daddy? Can I keep her?" asked Annabelle excitedly.

"Well..." began Kevin, but Jennifer interrupted. "Of course you can, honey. After all, it's God's will that you do."

Annabelle excitedly grabbed Kim and dragged her off. The screen abruptly switched to showing a luxurious bedroom, which the two soon entered.

"Now tell me, ****," began Annabelle, "have you been a good ****?"

"No, mistress," said Kim quietly.

"And why haven't you been a good ****?"

"I have not brought my mistress to orgasm today."

"And what is the punishment for that?"

"I must first bring my mistress to orgasm, and then she must punish me as she sees fit."

"Very good, ****!" Annabelle laid down on the bed and tore off her filmy panties. Kim dived in and began eating out her mistress.

After Annabelle's fifth orgasm, she shoved Kim roughly to the floor. "Now," she said to herself, "how shall I punish you today?"

Kim whimpered a little as Annabelle's eyes darted over the racks of instruments. "I know! A whipping. ****, get into the shackles."

Kim scrambled up and put her wrists into the manacles dangling from the ceiling. Annabelle pushed a button and they clamped shut, then lifted her **** off the ground. After they did, another pair shot up from the floor and clamped around Kim's ankles. The shackles spread apart, stretching out their occupant, only relenting when Kim began to cry out in pain.

Annabelle cracked a vicious-looking whip. "Now, ****, how many lashes do you think you deserve?"

"I think I deserve as many lashes as you are going to give me, mistress."

"Good answer, ****! So, shall we start with twenty and go from there?"