The Kitten Factory
Story by All These Roadworks (2022).
If you enjoy this story, please support its creation with the purchase of an e-book or membership from my creator site at AllTheseRoadworks.com! (Click here to view the store.)
The Kitten Factory booth at the music festival was a huge success. It handed out adorable cat-ear headbands to every girl who stopped by, free of charge.
Of course, each headband had a tiny radio set embedded within it. A receiver picked up the hypnotic transmission being broadcast from the Kitten Factory booth, and the ends of the headband, which sat just behind the girl’s ears, were speakers that thrummed that message directly against the bones around the girl’s ear. In the noise and chaos of the music festival, the girls never even noticed the sounds being drummed into them... but their brains did.
The initial loop would run through their heads for over an hour. They never consciously heard it, but if you asked an affected girl about kittens they would tell you that they were a good kitten, that they loved their kitten ears, that good kittens obey, that good kittens are pretty, that good kittens say yes. Those girls that were in skirts had lost their panties somewhere since getting their ears, and none could tell you where they had lost them. The loop affected all the girls wearing the ears, but those taking party drugs or listening to trance music were affected faster and stronger than others.
Every half hour the loop contained a simple instruction to flick a switch on the headband, changing the channel it was receiving, and girls far enough under the hypnotic effects would act on it. Now their kitten ears would begin to pick up the second loop.
At the Kitten Factory booth, a worker stopped a level two girl to inspect her. Her face was flushed with arousal and need, her eyes blank and stupid and desperate for approval. At some point she had removed her shirt and pulled down her bra to expose her tits, and she was crawling on all fours.
“Tell me about kittens, little one,” he asked her.
“Kittens need to cum. Good kittens can’t cum without male approval,” the girl whined. “Men like good kittens. Good kittens don’t wear clothes. Good kittens crawl. Good kittens like to lick. Good kittens lick their girlfriend’s tongues. Good kittens lick their girlfriend’s tits. Good kittens lick their girlfriend’s cunts. Good kittens lick men’s cocks. Good kittens taste their own slut nectar and lick it from their hands.” She did this now, reaching down under her skirt to her bare, wet pussy, rubbing it, and then bringing her hand up and licking the moisture from it with a long, slow cat-like lick, tongue extended. The man laughed at her, and took out his cock, which she crawled towards eagerly and began enthusiastically sucking.
All throughout the music festival, pairs or groups of girls were stripping each other naked, exposing each other’s tits and cunt, and licking each other with desperate sexual need. They knew that this was not how they would normally act, and were horrified to find themselves licking the pussies of their closest acquaintances in public, but unable to stop themselves. They were also unable to cum without male approval, and they would writhe pathetically, tongues in each other’s fuckholes, mad with lust, praying that a man would stop to watch and tell them that they were good sluts so that they could cum.
And finally, past midnight, the instruction came to the girls to turn to the third channel, and now they could hear the voice in their head clearly:
“Good kittens have owners. Good kittens give men power over them. Good kittens like to be filmed. Good kittens like to be leashed. Good kittens go home with strangers. Good kittens make other girls into good kittens. Good kittens share themselves with their family and pets. Good kittens only work as whores. Good kittens sleep in cages. Be a good kitten...”