Story by All These Roadworks (2021).

 

 

===

 

Ariana shouldn’t have taken party drugs before the protest.

 

The idea was that Ariana and her friend Kristen would attend the late night gig at the Rowdy Swan, a local dive bar and live music venue.  The band playing were The Cuntbashers - an up-and-coming all-male rock outfit who were making a reputation out of grungy drum-heavy songs with outrageously misogynistic lyrics.

 

They’d come up with the idea in their Women’s Literature tutorial, and the idea of attending the gig just to boo and protest had seemed hilarious at the time.  Kristen had even suggested bringing an air horn to drown out the music.  It would be striking a blow for feminism, they agreed.

 

But at its heart it had been more “prank” than “protest” - a girls’ night out, intended more for their amusement than the education of anyone else.  They’d dressed up in the sexy clubwear, as they might for any evening of nightclubbing.  And then when Kristen suggested they take a “pick-me-up” before leaving her house, it had seemed like a good idea.

 

“What are these?” Ariana had asked, frowning at the pink pill Kristen handed her.

 

Kristen shrugged.  “Uppers.  I got them from a friend.  He calls them ‘Fireworks’.  A little ecstasy, a few other bits and pieces.  He swears by them.”

 

And so Ariana had taken the pill, washed it down with vodka, and headed out to protest The Cuntbashers.

 

By the time they reached the Rowdy Swan, she could already fill the pill working.  She felt relaxed and energetic at the same time, aware of the world and yet detached from it.  Her nipples were hard and her pussy was a little wet beneath her lacy panties.  She was uncomfortably aware that her friend Kristen was gorgeous.  Their friendship had only ever been platonic but now Ariana was suddenly aware of her as a sexual being - tight dress, petite figure, pouty lips.  She realised she could smell the shampoo in Kristen’s long blonde hair - a smell like fresh strawberries.  She blushed.

 

They passed the bouncers, paid their cover charge, and descended into a packed, dimly lit basement.

 

Suddenly protesting didn’t seem like such a good idea.  There were very few girls in the audience.  Ariana and Kristen were surrounded by large men with alcohol on their breath.  She suddenly felt like they wouldn’t take kindly to their “protest” - wouldn’t get the joke - and she felt scared for her physical safety.

 

She felt a hand on her ass, and squeaked.  Someone had groped her!  She looked around, and couldn’t tell who it was, so settled for moving forward slightly through the crowd.

 

Soon The Cuntbashers came on stage - four men, fronted by ruggedly handsome bad-boy Dylan Gore.  The crowd cheered - and cheered louder when they saw Dylan leading the band’s mascot - a nude blonde woman with large fake tits, who crawled along on all fours behind Dylan on a dog leash.

 

Ariana blushed.  She had heard about this.  The band brought a different woman to every gig.  Rumours said some were eager and willing; others were not.  This woman looked as though she had been crying immediately before coming on stage.  And yet, she knelt obediently at the front of the stage with her legs spread, displayed her naked cunt to the crowd, and then brought a hand to her pussy and began to masturbate as the band started their set.

 

“Should we blow the air horn?” whispered Kristen in Ariana’s ear, and Ariana’s pussy clenched with surprising desire to feel Kristen’s lips so close to her face.

 

“No,” replied Ariana.  “Um… actually, I’m a little scared.”

 

“Me too,” said Kristen.  “Someone put their hand under my skirt before and felt my ass.”

 

“Maybe we should leave,” said Ariana. 

 

Kristen shook her head.  “They don’t open the doors now until the end of the first set,” she said.  “We’re stuck.”

 

Ariana felt a surge of panic - but there was nothing she could do.

 

The first song was called “Rape Her”, and the lyrics were typical of the Cuntbashers.

 

Ariana felt disgusted.  Behind the band, a video screen played images as they sang.  The footage was hardcore porn, of women being roughly fucked.  Ariana was not sure that they were all consenting.  On stage, the mascot kept rubbing her pussy.

 

Ariana felt strange.  It was the pill.  It was like she was here, but also observing herself from a distance.  Her cunt was wet.  She realised she was holding Kristen’s hand - not as she would with a friend, but as she might with a lover.  Kristen’s shoulder was pressed against her own.

 

She lowered her hand to her groin, intending to just adjust her skirt and panties a little to be more comfortable, before realising that she was rubbing her crotch urgently through her clothes, pleasuring her cunt in public.  She snatched her hand away.

 

The second song started.  It was called “Bitches”.

 

On screen, nude women with puppy-tail buttplugs and dog collars crawled back and forth.  The mascot on stage kept masturbating.

 

Suddenly, Ariana jumped and squeaked.  The hand was back on her ass!  She tried to swat at it, but Kristen was still holding her right hand tightly, anxiously, out of fear, and her left hand was holding a bottle of beer.  When had she bought the beer?  She had a vague memory of Kristen handing it to her.  She couldn’t put it down, so she had no hands free to defend herself.

 

She tried to move forward, away from the molesting hand, but the crowd was so tightly packed that she couldn’t move forward without crushing her tits against the man in front of her. 

 

She whimpered.  She couldn’t do anything but let the molestation continue.  She felt the hand squeeze her left ass cheek, and then her right.

 

The third song was “Worthless”

 

On screen, nude women were having lesbian sex as a circle of men masturbated over them and ejaculated onto them.  The mascot on stage appeared to reach an orgasm, shaking and moaning, but she kept rubbing her cunt.

 

Ariana moaned in shame.  The hand on her ass had moved to the waistband of her panties, and was now dragging them down her legs, pulling them off her, and there was nothing she could do about it.  She felt them drop to her ankles, and she stepped out of them of her own volition, not wanting them to trip her up if she had the chance to move. 

 

The hand immediately moved to explore her newly vulnerable groin.  She felt a thumb probe at her butthole, and a finger try to move between her legs.  She clamped her thighs together as best as she could, trying to pretend her cunt wasn’t gushingly wet.

 

“Ariana, I’m scared,” said Kristen, and Ariana suddenly knew that the same thing was happening to her friend.  She looked down and saw Kristen’s panties on the venue floor, next to her own.  They were both being molested, even as they held hands.  She looked at Kristen’s face, saw it flushed; looked at Kristen’s chest and saw her erect nipples tenting the front of her dress, and realised Kristen was just as wet as she was.

 

“Only one more song in this set, I think,” said Ariana.  “Then intermission.  Be brave.”

 

Kristen moaned, and Ariana didn’t know whether it was from fear, or from a stranger slipping their finger into Kristen’s pussy.

 

Then the fourth song started.  It was called “Good Cunts”.

 

And the video - Ariana felt something strange starting to happen.  The video was a series of high speed flashing images, faster than she could process.  Some frames showed naked big-titted women.  Some frames were scenes of rape.  Some showed women kneeling, or sucking cocks.  Some showed female dogs, or cows.  And between them all were words - OBEY - DISPLAY - STAY WET - OBEY - flickering so fast they made Ariana’s head hurt.  She felt detached from her body.  The drugs made it hard to think.

 

The hand molesting her from behind finally pushed apart her legs, and she felt two fingers suddenly sink into her soaking wet cunt.  She gasped, and turned her head to Kristen to ask for help - this had gone on long enough - except that Kristen turned towards her at exactly the same time, and suddenly their lips met, and she was kissing her best friend - tongue-kissing her, because Kristen’s tongue was in her mouth, and then hers was in Kristen’s - and the anonymous fingers were raping her pussy, and the screen was flickering, and the words of the song were so loud they hurt…

 

And then suddenly Ariana was orgasming, hard, screaming her passion into her friend’s mouth….

 

And something in her brain broke, and then everything went black.

 

===

 

The next thing she knew, she was on the floor of the men’s toilets at the bar.

 

She was naked.

 

Kristen was lying beside her, also naked, except upside down in relation to Ariana, her face near Ariana’s cunt, and her cunt near Ariana’s face. 

 

Ariana had a taste on her tongue that she knew from her own masturbations - the taste of cunt.  Had she been licking Kristen’s pussy? 

 

She looked at her friend’s fuckhole.  It was waxed, hairless and pouty.  There was a white liquid leaking from it. 

 

Sperm.

 

She panicked.  What had happened?  What had they done?  She sat up.

 

Blessedly, they were alone, but her clothes were nowhere to be seen.

 

Kristen was waking up too.  “Where are we?” she said, her voice slurring.

 

“That fucking drug,” hissed Ariana.  “This is your fault.”

 

“Did we… have sex?” asked Kristen.

 

“I think so,” replied Ariana.  “I think you fucked a guy, too.  There’s cum in your pussy.”

 

Kristen sat up, suddenly alert.  “What?  Oh shit!”  Her face was bright red.  “Where are our clothes?”

 

“I don’t know,” said Ariana.  “And my phone and my wallet are gone.”  She looked at her friend.  “This is your fault,” she said again.

 

“I’m sorry!” said Kristen, on the edge of tears.  “What do we do?”

 

“I’ll hide in one of these stalls,” said Ariana.  “You can go find us some clothes.”

 

“But I’m naked!” protested Kristen.

 

“One of us has to go,” said Ariana.  “And this is your fault.”

 

Kristen didn’t want to go, but there was no arguing with the logic.  Ariana locked herself in a toilet stall, and Kristen left the toilets, trying to cover her nude tits and pussy with her hands.

 

When she was gone, Ariana inspected her own cunt.  No sperm that she could see.  It didn’t feel like it had been penetrated by anything larger than her friend’s tongue.  That was good.

 

Kristen was gone for a long time, and when she came back, she was crying.  She was wearing an oversized black T-shirt that came down far enough to cover her cunt and ass.  On the front it said:

 

OBEY

& DISPLAY

& STAY WET

& OBEY

 

“I got this from the merch stand,” Kristen said.  “The gig ended about an hour ago but the merch stand was still packing up.  There were men everywhere.  They laughed at me.  Some of them took photos.  The guy at the merch stand said he’d give me two shirts for free if I let him finger my pussy and take a photo… so I did.”

 

Ariana felt guilty about sending her friend to be molested, but was grateful for the T-shirt.  “Give me that,” she said, and Kristen passed the second shirt to her.  It was white and said “GOOD CUNT” on the front in red.  It was as oversized as Kristen’s - large enough to conceal Ariana’s groin - but Ariana was disappointed to find it was slightly see-through, with her areolae visible as dark circles beneath the material.

 

“The merch guy said he’d call us a taxi,” said Kristen.  “We should go wait for it.”

 

===

 

Waiting for the taxi was humiliating.  Every man they saw on their way out of the bar hooted at them and catcalled.  Standing on the sidewalk, nude but for the shirt, Ariana felt like a prostitute waiting for a john.  Plus it was cold, making her shiver.  She had goosebumps and her nipples were like diamonds, pressing out against the shirt fabric.

 

Eventually the taxi arrived, and both girls got into the back seat.  Kristen gave them the address of her house - Ariana thought she would stay at her friend’s house tonight, for the sense of security - and the driver started the car.

 

As he pulled away from the bar, he looked back at the slogans on their shirts.

 

“Oh, you just saw The Cuntbashers?” he said.  “I love them!”

 

Ariana, tired, said nothing, just made a noncommittal noise.

 

“I’ve got their album!” said the driver.  “Hang on, I’ll play my favourite track.”

 

And before either girl could stop him, he pressed a button - and suddenly the taxi was filled with the drums and guitar of “Good Cunts”.

 

 

Ariana felt something click in her brain.  Suddenly there were two Arianas - the same detached feeling she had had from the drug.  One of them was the normal version of her - the smug, spoiled feminist who had gone out to play a prank on men.  But that version was drifting outside of her, looking in, not in control.

 

The version that *was* in control had ears only for the music.  Ariana realised to her horror that she was *singing along* with the music.  And that her cunt was suddenly very wet again.

 

Something had happened in the concert.  Something about the drugs, and the flashing lights, and the music, had done something to her brain - had broken something… or unlocked something.

 

 

And, though “normal Ariana” tried desperately to stop it, this new Ariana was pulling her shirt up and over her head, stripping in the back seat of the taxi, baring her tits to the eyes of the surprised driver.

 

The song was the trigger.  Kristen was doing the same thing.  The girls turned to look at each other - and then suddenly each was pulling off her seatbelt, and struggling desperately to take up a 69 position on the back seat.  Ariana buried her face between Kristen’s thighs and began to lick, and Kristen did the same.  The feeling of her friend’s tongue on her cunt was amazing.

 

“Good cunts will fuck,” she thought to herself.  “Good cunts will suck.  They rape their friends for luck.”

 

And then she was cumming against Kristen’s face, and squealing, even as she tried to sing along to The Cuntbashers, and she didn’t even notice when the driver stopped the taxi and climbed into the back seat to join in….

 

(END)