Harvest Moon High

Chapter 1

by Mesmerciless

Tags: #cw:noncon #breeding #dom:male #hucow #iq_drop #pov:bottom #sub:female #brain_drain #brainwashed #brainwashing #breast_expansion #cum_fixation #cum_play #drugged #drugs #exhibitionism #f/f #f/m #growth #hypnosis #impregnation #intelligence_play #lactation #Master/slave_language #masturbation #multiple_partners #school

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Rosie let out a low moan, her entire body trembling with delight.

She increased her pace, her ass smacking and jiggling against the wall as she plunged the protruding dildo in and out of her insatiable cunt. At last, she could feel the need inside her rise to a breaking point. Her panting turned to happy squeals, the artificial grass carpet tickling her stiff, swaying nipples as every inch of her sang with the joy. This was the pleasure that came only from a good, hard fucking. It was what she was made for. It was what all of them were made for. And finally, she was…

A discontented grunt issued from behind Rosie, followed by an all-too-familiar nudging at her hips. Her gyrations slowed, and Rosie let out a whimpering moo of protest, pleading to be allowed to finish. But it was no use: Grace wanted the wall-cock, and every herd-sister knew she would shove and bite anyone that denied her that privilege. She had always been a bit of a bully, but the tan blonde’s reign of terror hadn’t truly begun until one of the Owners finally fulfilled her. Since then, Grace’s status as de facto queen had been assured, and she wasted no time lording her swelling tits and belly over the rest of the group. As frustrating as it was, the Owners' approval was absolute; the rest of the herd could do little but respect Graces’ whims, and wish for the day when someone else would take enough seed to mount a convincing challenge.

Until then, Rosie would have to yield her place at the wall-cock, mooing sadly and sliding her quivering hips away from the precious toy. Grace didn’t even wait for the strands of sticky juice to break before shouldering the smaller herd-sister aside, taking the cock for herself with a decisive clang of her collar bell. Rosie slinked away, still shaking with thwarted desire, and crawled to a quiet spot in the room, as far away from her bouncing and hooting tormentor as she could go.

Once at a safe distance, the dejected girl sunk down into the soft green carpet, hiding her humiliated expression behind unkempt locks of crimson hair. A newer herd-sister ambled nearby and mooed inquisitively, her lips parting and allowing her dripping tongue to slide free: an offering. Rosie grunted and shook her head: she wasn’t in the mood. Her frustration wasn’t just about orgasms—it was about going for ages without a nice, warm, honest-to-god dick inside her.

How long had it been? Well, time was a bit of a fuzzy haze for Rosie these days, as were concepts like numbers and counting. But the light behind the blurry windows had risen and set at least…several times since one of the Owners had last fucked her. The wall-cock served as an okay substitute, but now Grace wasn’t even allowing that much.

Rosie needed to be taken. She needed hands to grab her hips and pull her hair; ached to feel an eager twitch against her pussy’s lips; begged to wake up to hot, rigid pleasure every night; and yearned to leak cum down her legs every morning.

Alas. Some herd-sisters got all the luck. One of them was actually being mounted by an Owner right now, their loud, visible mating no doubt the reason why Grace was in such a mean mood. In a way, it was understandable—Rosie too seethed with jealousy as she watched the lucky girl’s eyes roll back with cock-drunk bliss. It was undeniably hot. But somehow sickening too. Rosie turned away, desperate for something else to look at.

That’s when she realized: something was different about the room now.

She squinted, fighting through the fog of arousal clouding her simple animal brain. Then it came to her: the door to their room was open. The Owner had forgotten to close it all the way.

And that meant…that meant…

Rosie crawled cautiously towards the ajar entrance, glancing over her shoulder with a quiet, uncertain moo. All the other herd-sisters were either transfixed by the mating, or otherwise engaged in carnal games of their own. Nobody else had noticed the door. And nobody moved to stop her.

The red-headed girl paused as her nose reached the threshold. She sniffed, afraid. It was scary, the thought of leaving her wonderful little world. But something deep inside her…some memory or instinct she couldn’t name or understand…told her that there were more Owners outside. And that meant more cocks. Maybe if she could find where they all lived, they would reward her with as much cum as she wanted. That would be something, wouldn’t it? Not even Grace got to enjoy such pleasure.

And so, with one last hesitant murmur, Rosie pushed through the door, and began her search for paradise.

The loading circle made yet another rotation, and Kim’s jaw tightened by yet another three notches. It was one thing to be locked out of her social accounts, but if she couldn’t even get enough of a signal to open her email, she might as well throw herself from the car now and save everyone some misery. Maybe she would fall into a coma and wake up somewhere else; somewhere not surrounded by endless waves of yellowing grass; somewhere with lights beyond the occasional streetlamp and buildings taller than the sparse web of powerlines; or, at the very least, somewhere with some goddamn cell reception.

James cleared his throat in the driver’s seat. “You know, you’re gonna hurt your eyes if you keep glaring like that,” he said.

Kim’s gaze flicked from her phone to the rearview mirror, her expression not easing in the slightest. “You said I’d be able to stay in touch with my friends. But how am I supposed to do that if it takes fifteen minutes to send a text?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of a way,” the blonde buffoon scoffed. “Your mother and I survived just fine without smartphones when we were your age.”

Kim winced. There was that phrase again. “Your mother and I.” She hated when James used it so casually, as if he and Yuko had grown up as childhood sweethearts, and not gotten hitched less than a year ago. Not that he had ever cared much for details or Kim’s feelings; from the moment they met, James had seemed all too eager to inhabit a fatherhood several sizes too big for even his broad shoulders. If only everyone else noticed how ridiculous he looked.

“It’ll be alright.” The kind face of Kim’s mother peeked around the passenger seat, smiling despite the note of weariness in her voice. “We’ll get the wi-fi set up as soon as we can. I’m sure your friends will want to hear all about your new school.”

“Just don’t forget to make some new friends as well,” James added with a laugh. “Preferably the kind that live outside of the screen.”

Kim opened her mouth to protest, but caught the look in her mother’s eyes and decided against it. Transferring to a new high school was a nightmare for Kim, but she knew the move was tough on Yuko as well. They had always enjoyed being city gals together: a poet socialite and her rising star daughter, never far from a museum, gallery, or designer sale, always ready to bask in the inspiration and excitement life among the skyscrapers provided. That was before the troubled times, before the cheating and the yelling and the divorce. Kim had tried not to get involved, had tried to focus on her studies and friends, ignoring the waning warmth outside her bedroom door. Then one day she opened her eyes, and her father was gone, replaced by some organic chemist Yuko had found online. At first, Kim had assumed his stay would be temporary. There was no way her mother saw more in James besides a nice jaw and a full head of hair; no way she’d overlook his paternalistic manners and off-color jokes; no way she’d tolerate his flagrant displays of wealth and all-too-open signs of affection.

And yet…

Kim let out a sigh and rested her head against the window, watching yet another blank stretch of prairie roll by. It was so unfair. Just when she had managed to get used to having James around; just when her skin had stopped breaking out and the shine had returned to her long, dark hair; just when her grades were back at their usual heights and her basketball team was on track for a playoff season; just when it seemed like eighteen was going to be her best year yet, bam! Her dick of a stepdad gets a job at some food company, and movers are packing up the apartment within a week. No debate, no deliberation, nothing.

A herd of cows were grazing on a hill in the distance, trying to root out the last patches of green left by the dwindling November sun. Kim glowered at the few animals that rose their heads as the car passed. In a way, she envied them. They were just as helpless and captive as she was, but also too dumb to realize it. How blissful their ignorance must be; how comforting, to not know how little the world really cared.

Then again, they probably couldn’t access their Insta either. Kim slid her finger across her phone screen once more, praying for a miracle.

“Ah, here we are,” James announced, snapping Kim out of her despairing fog. “Everyone play it cool,” he joked with mock seriousness.

Kim glanced out the window and furrowed her brow. The car had stopped at what looked like a toll booth erected on a forested country road, bordered by chain-link fencing that stretched endlessly into the surrounding trees. It was hardly the sort of small-town welcome Kim had expected, and she muttered as much to her mother while James chatted with the gate guard.

“It’s probably because of your step-father’s work,” Yuko speculated. “They can’t afford to have any of their experiments escape—they might damage the surrounding ecosystem.”

“And their copyright, no doubt,” Kim added wryly. She caught the guard staring at her mother for a moment before his gaze snapped back to James. The two men shared a knowing smile. No doubt Kim’s step-father had just been boasting about how the “pretty little thing” next to him was his wife. It was one of his favorite topics, the pig.

“I know you don’t approve of my work, Kimmy,” he sighed as the car continued through the checkpoint. “But Happy Bell Labs is on the verge of revolutionizing the way science and agriculture mix. And it’s all cruelty-free too.”

“Wow, amazing,” Kim slumped back into her seat. “Can’t wait for you to invent a new kind of cheese stick or whatever.”

“Kim, please,” Yuko frowned. “You know it’s hurtful when someone belittles your work.”

“Just like when someone calls you a name you hate,” Kim shot back. “Especially after you’ve told him over and over again.”

“Oh.” James stiffened and deepened his voice. “My apologies, Ms. Kim. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the impression we’re a family, Ms. Kim.”

“Okay, okay,” Yuko groaned. “Have we gotten it out of our systems now? I want to enjoy this moment in peace.”

“Of course, darling.” James pantomimed zipping his lips.

“Sure, whatever.” Kim shrugged.

Yuko exhaled, and Kim couldn’t resist a begrudging smile as peace settled onto her mother’s features. It was an expression Kim was happy to see return, that of a poet opening herself to the world’s wonder. As if answering Yuko’s invitation, the branches overhead broke apart as the tree line faded, washing the car in amber evening. Then Bovidale’s first buildings came into view.

It wasn’t exactly a welcome sight. But Kim couldn’t completely deny its charm. The town was a simple arrangement of cream-colored houses and bleached brick businesses, arranged in a cozy little valley between two gentle hills. On the first crest: the Happy Bell Labs, visible only now as a massive faux-barnyard façade, the tops of steam vents and smoke stacks the only evidence of the sprawling complex that lay beyond. Atop the second hill was Kim’s new school, Harvest Moon High: a red, two-story rectangle of wooden slats and white-rimmed windows, topped by a bell tower that would no doubt become the bane of her mornings in the future. For now, though, Kim allowed herself some comfort that the dumpy village she had seen on Google Maps was apparently a thing of the past. The new money brought in by the food lab was being put to good use; hopefully the upgrades extended beyond exterior decoration.

Her reluctant relief continued as the car pulled up in front of their new home, a freshly renovated two-story house that radiated contemporary comfort despite its more classical style. The inside was just as tasteful, with spotless white walls, shiny wooden floors, and a kitchen bigger than Kim’s old bedroom. All of their furniture was already waiting for them in the exact right spots, plus a few new additions that somehow fit in perfectly. When it came to relocating their employees, Happy Bell Labs apparently spared no expense.

“Oh my,” Yuko breathed, staring through the sliding glass door at the deck and ample yard out back. “It’s wonderful.”

“Isn’t it?” James grinned. “And look,” he continued, opening the fridge to reveal an array of brightly colored packages and produce. “It all comes freshly stocked. Pretty neat huh?”

“Yeah…” Kim answered automatically, only to belatedly recognize the smug glint in her step-father’s eye. He was clearly savoring this, seeing his step-daughter so taken by the home she had sworn to hate. Well, he might’ve won this round, but that didn’t mean she had stand around and let him gloat. “I’m gonna go check out my room,” she muttered, dashing off towards the stairs before either James or Yuko could intervene.

Much to Kim’s chagrin, her bedroom turned out to be wonderful as well. Even cluttered with boxes, there was plenty of space to move around in, and the wide windows at the end offered a gorgeous view of the sunset soaked town. Her bed was massive, easily a queen if not larger, and the freshly steamed sheets felt so soft she almost collapsed into them immediately.

But then she noticed the outfit resting on top: a neatly folded white blouse set above a simple black skirt, with a spotted neckerchief crowning the monochrome set. It was her new school uniform, no doubt. The style was hardly to Kim’s taste but…maybe it would surprise her, just as the rest of Bovidale had.

After determining that her door did indeed have a lock (another bonus), Kim removed the old T-shirt and jeans that had been her default travel apparel, pausing for a moment to consider herself in the full-length mirror. Despite the spending days with dusty roads and hotel cosmetics, she didn’t look half-bad. No doubt the bounce and shine in her hair had taken a hit but—undoing her ponytail and shaking her dark strands free—she decided it could be a lot worse. Her body still had its athlete’s tone, with subtle lines of muscle traveling up her lithe legs and arms, a perfect fit for her new school’s basketball team. Her hips had always been slightly bonier and her bust slightly smaller than she would’ve liked, but those insecurities were barely worth noting anymore.

Unfortunately, it turned out her new uniform disagreed.

She could feel something was off immediately, and didn’t even make it halfway up the blouse buttons before stopping and gawking at the mirror’s reflection. There must’ve been some mistake. The tag on the blouse said “small,” so why was it hanging off of her like a linen sack? How could a school skirt be short enough to rise above her knees, yet require several safety pins to secure around her waist? And what was the school thinking sending her such a tiny neckerchief? There was barely enough fabric to circle even her slender throat, and the polka dotted item resembled a cheap choker more than an elegant accessory by the time it was tied.

Still…at least the school hadn’t skimped on the material. It might’ve felt like she was swimming in her own clothes but, as Kim shifted and stretched, the waves of fabric caressed her with such welcoming softness she almost forgot her aggravation. In fact…it was sort of nice, bunching the excess clothing against her chest, smoothing the skirt over her thighs and…

Kim blinked, a delicious waft of garlic and butter interrupting her reverie. Someone was cooking downstairs. And, as her mouth watered and her stomach growled, she realized how hungry the journey had left her. No more would she be forced to nibble on gas station snacks and continental breakfasts—real home cooking was back on the menu.

Hesitating only for a moment, Kim stripped off the strange uniform and put on a more sensible outfit of sweats, a tank top, and a zip-up hoodie. Once again properly clothed, she made her way back downstairs to the kitchen, and was thrilled to see James bent over the sleek gas stove, with Yuko seated patiently at the counter.

“Hey there.” The busy chef brightened as Kim drew closer. “Hope you’re hungry for some real food tonight.”

“I guess…” Kim allowed, fighting not to show her excitement. James was an excellent cook, but he didn’t need anyone else telling him that. “Please tell me you’re actually making something healthy for once.”

“I’m making something delicious,” James assured with a wink. “Why don’t we leave it at that?”

“Ugh,” Kim’s mouth said. Hooray, her taste-buds cheered.

“Kim, why don’t you help me set the table?” Yuko requested, rising and gesturing for her daughter to follow.

“Huh? Really?” Kim arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with eating in the kitchen like we usually do?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Yuko smiled. “I just thought it might be nice. There’s no point in having a dining room if you don’t use it, right?”

“I’m not sure there’s much point in a dining room, period,” Kim snarked.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed.

“B-but yeah, it does sound nice,” the teen quickly added.

Like the rest of the home, the dining room was at least twice as big as Kim expected it to be, with a table of dark, rich wood long enough to seat a family of twenty. The two women decided to set a cluster of seats at the center, sifting through boxes for the proper tableware. As Kim tried to mimic her mother’s napkin-folding technique, she noticed the elegant woman pause, a flicker of vulnerability in her dark eyes.

“Kim,” Yuko said quietly. “I…I’m sorry for…making you go through all this. I know all this change hasn’t been easy, nor has it always been fair to you. And for that, I deeply and truly apologize.

Kim hesitated. It had been a while since her mother had opened up like this. “I-it’s alright,” the teen awkwardly replied. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it, it’s just…been a lot, y’know?”

“It has.” Yuko smiled sadly. “But…ever since your father left, I just…I’ve felt like I can’t move forward until I make a fresh start. I know it’s selfish to say that, and I don’t expect you to…forgive me for it. Though, hopefully, someday…”

“Of course I will,” Kim protested. “I mean, not that I, y’know, hate you now or anything. I’m just, uh…it’s just, erm…” she let out an exasperated sigh, unable to complete the thought.

“It’s a lot,” Yuko laughed.

“It’s a lot,” Kim agreed.

The two resumed their work in mutual silence. By the time everything was in place, the smells from the kitchen had almost driven Kim mad with hunger. Fortunately, James arrived shortly thereafter, an ornate tureen and covered bread basket in his hands.

“Voila,” he said to the seated women, revealing his creations with a flourish. “Enjoy.”

Kim almost drooled as her mouth opened with awe. From an objective standpoint, the dishes were rather ordinary: penne pasta speckled with cheese and slathered in cream sauce, accompanied by fresh-baked garlic bread. Yet…perhaps it was her delirious appetite or the lighting in the room, but Kim could’ve sworn the food was glowing. And as she helped herself to a hearty sample, she realized its allure was no illusion.

The bread was incredible: perfectly toasted and textured, yet still soft and soaked in flavor. The pasta was transcendental, its rich, intoxicating creaminess enveloping Kim from the first bite, drowning her in a sea of sinful delight. It wasn’t long before she was hurriedly reaching for seconds, the heaviness of the ensemble somehow not slowing her in the slightest.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” James asked, savoring a smirking sip of wine. Unlike Kim, he was taking his sweet time with his plate, seemingly more interested in his audience than the golden bounty before them.

“Mmmmhmmm,” Yuko hummed through a mouthful, apparently taken by the same ravenous appetite as her daughter. “And—this is all from your…?”

“Straight from the pantries and recipes of Happy Bell Labs,” the proud cook confirmed.

That revelation finally caused Kim to slow, though not for long. As much as she wanted to downplay her enjoyment, as humiliating as it was to have her step-father gloating while cream sauce dripped down her chin, all it took was another bite to send her thoughts spinning into the clouds, all pretenses to decorum or pride forgotten in the hedonistic fog.

Eventually, even her seemingly insatiable craving found its limit, and Kim let her fork clatter onto the table. She slumped back into her seat with a satisfied sigh, feeling as though the glow from the food had somehow suffused her body. The muscles that had become cramped and tense in the car ride now felt warm, loose, and droopy, unwinding further with each heavy, soothing breath she took. Her skin tingled and her brain floated on dreamy, disconnected thoughts. When a tiny burp escaped her mother, the giggles that erupted around the table were irresistible, each laugh sending ripples through the happy chemicals flooding Kim’s system.

Until she glimpsed James’s hand giving her mother’s thigh a squeeze under the table. To Yuko’s credit, she managed to maintain a poker face, but couldn’t hide the blush rising to her cheeks. Kim recognized that look all too well, just as she did the glint in her step-father’s eyes. No way was she going to stick around to see where it was all leading.

With mumbled gratitude for the meal, Kim excused herself from the table, the non-response from her folks proof enough that her read on the situation had been dreadfully correct. Hurrying back upstairs, she slipped into her room, only to find herself at a loss as to what to do next. There was no T.V. or internet set up yet, and the weighty high from dinner still clung to her every move, making unpacking seem like an impossible task.

She frowned in the mirror, wiping a stray streak of sauce from the corner of her lips and then, before she could think to do otherwise, licking her fingers clean. She let out a soft moan as another pulse of delicious delight traveled through her. Maybe a long, luxurious shower was what she needed. The water would probably feel amazing against her…strangely sensitive skin, and offered the added benefit of drowning out any…unwanted noises from her housemates.

Feeling too lazy to think of any other ideas, Kim grabbed her bathrobe and towel before heading into the bathroom on the other side of the hall. Like the rest of the home, the space was immaculate, and Kim caught her reflection gaping at the quartz countertops and pristine tile floors as she stripped. The shower beckoned at the far end of the room and, as Kim slid the glass door behind her and stepped under the spout, she felt like she was entering another world entirely. It was incredible; previously, only post-game showers could make her melt this way. Yet as the water cascaded down her breasts and stomach, Kim found her hands tracing the wake of the spreading warmth, her fingers gliding up her hips and circling her stiff, upturned nipples.

She felt…good. Really good.

And…was she also…getting turned on?

Kim paused, then allowed a cautious hand to slip between her legs. Instantly, aching desire shot through her, blossoming so quickly and suddenly it drew a gasp from her lips. Carnal needs were nothing new, but rarely did they arrive with such overwhelming urgency. Masturbation had rarely been worth the effort in her old apartment, and the one boyfriend she had gone all the way with never inspired this degree of desperate yearning. It didn’t makes sense—she had just spent the whole day glowering at passing fields and the entire evening pigging out on pasta. So why was the slightest sensual touch causing her heart to race and her legs to quiver? Why couldn’t she stop herself from squeezing her breasts and teasing her clit, nor halt the fantasies she had sworn to forget?

There had been another boy. Not the one Kim had dated, but the one she had desperately wished to. He had been the object of her most unrequited desires and, when the need arose, thoughts of his veiled smile and sharp blue eyes were the most reliable orgasm fuel she had. She always swore she would ask him out when she had the chance, or at least get him to notice her before graduation. But now those dreams were dead—or so Kim had told herself. Yet as another wave of pleasure forced her to lean against the shower wall for support, all her old longings came flooding back, easily overcoming her feeble resistance.

It was one of her favorite imaginings: herself in the school library, studying at a desk in some dark corner, beyond the reach of prying eyes. She always pictured him approaching quietly, secretly, his tall shadow falling over her papers before she turned to meet his longing gaze. There were never any words in her fantasies—their language lay in the delicate play of his fingers in her hair, and the way his breath shivered as he hesitated to kiss her. Kim bit her lip and moaned as she imagined their mouths meeting, his sweet taste flooding her tongue as he guided her up, pressing her against a nearby shelf as growing passion drove them on. Her arms were around him, pulling him closer, until she could feel the hardness in his jeans strain against her, as eager as the hands caressing her body, touching and teasing her in all the right places.

Even with the shower running full blast, Kim still stifled a cry as she came. She slumped against the shower wall, trying to catch her breath. But her fingers weren’t finished—they only paused for a moment before sliding down her soaking pussy once again. What was wrong with her? Normally this would be when the fantasy ended, when the lustful haze subsided and her thoughts returned to reality. Yet here she was, slipping back inside herself, every inch of her begging for more. More pleasure. More heat. More…something she couldn’t think straight enough to name. All she knew was that the dream couldn’t end at quiet kisses and tender strokes—she wanted to feel his tongue in her mouth and his hand clasp her neck. She wanted him to shove her lips against his and then yank her hair to break them apart, leaving her gasping while his teeth found her neck, biting just hard enough for her to feel it, to know that she was his.

The fantasy was spiraling out of control now, but Kim didn’t care. She was lost in the obscene reverie, urging her secret lover onward, begging him to throw her on the library table, to bend her over and lift her skirt, to see how damp her panties were, how hopelessly in heat she was for him. She didn’t want him to wait—she wanted to feel his hand press authoritatively on the small of her back, holding her in place while he tore her panties aside and unbuckled his jeans. She wanted…she wanted….

“Nnngh…” Kim sputtered as another tiny orgasm rippled through her. It still wasn’t enough. Whatever wanton spirit had seized her wouldn’t be satisfied with a little shower self-love. There was only one thing that could release her from these devilish demands.

After fumbling to turn the spout off, Kim stepped out of the shower and dried as quickly as she could. With her robe safely hiding her overheating flesh, she peeked her head out into the hall, ensuring the coast was clear before dashing back into her room. Her cosmetics bag was still in her suitcase, and tucked secretly inside was the object her shaking hands sought. At the time, she had debated even bringing it with her—she had gotten it as a goof on her eighteenth birthday after all, and had only seriously used it once. But as she hefted the long, pink vibrator in her hands, Kim felt a fresh thrum of excitement, and knew she had made the right decision.

Finally, she would get what she needed.

Closing her eyes, Kim coaxed her thoughts back to that library scene, all while loosening her robe and drifting towards her desk. She could do it just like she was picturing, indulge in exactly what her fantasies demanded. The wooden desktop was a bit cold against her nipples, but the slight sting only sent even more amorous tingles through her. She bent over, spreading her legs and sliding the smooth toy across her dripping sex. Then, just when she could bare the anticipation no longer…

A muffled clang sounded outside.

Kim stiffened and her eyes opened wide, realizing all too late that the desk sat in front of her bedroom windows. If there was somebody walking the streets outside, all they would have to do is look up to see her putting on quite a show. In a panic, Kim ducked out of sight, scurrying across the floor to turn out the lights. After allowing herself to catch her breath, she snuck back to the waiting windows, careful to remain hidden as her morbid curiosity drew her attention outside. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the night, until at last she could see the source of the strange, metallic sound.

Kim blinked, for a moment unable to believe what she was seeing.

There was a woman crawling on the sidewalk below, clad in nothing but cow-print thigh-highs and matching arm-sleeves. Her body looked and moved like an insane cross between a pin-up girl and a fertility goddess, her massive tits and voluptuous hips jiggling as she wandered to and fro on all fours. She paused as she passed under a streetlight, resting on her thick haunches and peering up at the glowing bulb with a dull, yet curious expression. In the light, Kim could make out a young, pretty face beneath the unruly tresses of red hair, as well as a gold bell hanging around the woman’s neck. No doubt that was the source of the clanging Kim had heard earlier.

So…why…why was there a porn star in fetish gear slinking around her neighborhood?

And what was Kim supposed to do about it?

The contented clouds that had enshrouded her all evening evaporated, clearing the way for her racing thoughts. She needed to get help…right? There was no way that woman was out there of her own volition; if anything, it seemed like she had been drugged somehow, her half-lidded eyes and dreamy smile not evincing someone in their right mind. But it wasn’t like Kim had the expertise to assist, and calling the cops felt like it might escalate the issue rather than resolve it.

Which meant there was only one, dreadful option left: parental guidance.

Suppressing an aggravated groan, Kim stashed her vibrator and threw on her PJ’s before searching the hallway for Yuko and James’ room. It didn’t take long to find, and though the muffled noises behind the door made every hair on her neck stand up, Kim couldn’t afford to wait. If that mystery woman’s face showed up on the morning news tomorrow, Kim knew she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.

“H-hey mom? James?” Kim called, rapping her knuckles on the door. “There’s someone weird watching our house outside.” She paused, listening as silence fell, only to be broken by ruffling sheets and approaching footsteps.

“Hey,” James greeted awkwardly, still tightening his bathrobe as the door creaked open. “Sorry, what did you say you needed?”

“I-I don’t know,” Kim answered, tearing her gaze away from his exposed chest. She would’ve vastly preferred motherly assistance, but dared not ask what was keeping Yuko indisposed. “I think there’s someone outside who needs our help. She…she doesn’t seem like she’s…doing okay.”

“Huh.” James’ brow furrowed, but thankfully he didn’t protest. “What’s she doing?”

“Nothing but she’s…it’s hard to explain.” Kim let out a flustered breath. “C-can you just come look? Please?”

“Sure, sure,” her step-father nodded, following as Kim to lead the way to her room. But by the time they arrived at the window, all that was waiting for them was a perfectly normal view of an empty street, with nary another soul in sight.

“W-wait…she was just…” Kim struggled to speak, her eyes scanning fruitlessly for any signs of the voluptuous red-head. “She…she was there!”

“Where?” James asked squinting. “Behind the bushes?”

“No, right there!” Kim insisted, pointing at the streetlight. “She was…naked but, like…dressed like a cow or something and…it looked like she had been drugged or…or…”

Kim’s voice trailed off, her own words ringing ridiculously in her ears. James nodded, as though understanding, though it was clear his skepticism far outweighed his concern.

“So…” He cleared his throat. “Do you think she was, like, a homeless woman or…”

Kim shook her head. “No, she was just…just…”

“Is it…possible you were mistaken?”

Kim shot him a glare. “I know what I saw,” she insisted, despite the doubts already creeping into her thoughts. After all, her evening had been one long, exhausting, indulgent blur—wasn’t it possible that had clouded her perception? Especially given how…heavy and sleepy her eyes felt, now that the adrenaline and sexual frustration had vanished from her body.

As if sympathizing, James yawned. “Well, I’ll wait downstairs for a bit and see if she comes back,” he announced, ambling towards her door. “You should try to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Kim murmured, plopping down on the mattress with a weary sigh. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” James winked. “G’night Kimmy.”

“‘Night,” she mumbled, too tired and confused to correct him. She practically collapsed onto her side after the door closed, fatigue settling in as rapidly as her earlier arousal. And as she sunk into the sheets and her eyes fluttered shut…

…She could’ve sworn she heard another bell echo in the night.


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