Chapter 3: Fuck your Brap Hogs
The morning sun climbed higher, bleaching the grime on the windows to a dull glare. Ellie needed to pee. It was a profoundly mundane bodily function, a stark counterpoint to the two women glued to her. She shifted, trying to extricate herself from the tangle of limbs.
It was like trying to leave a nest of particularly affectionate, heavily muscled octopuses.
“Hey, guys, come on,” Ellie said, her voice still laced with that new, unfamiliar authority, though it cracked slightly. “Gotta… get up.”
Brianna whined, a high, pathetic sound against Ellie’s thigh. Kendra just tightened her arm around Ellie’s waist, nuzzling deeper. “Don’t go. Need it.”
“You need me to move,” Ellie insisted, a giddy laugh bubbling up. She pushed at Kendra’s shoulder, then at Brianna’s head. They yielded reluctantly, their bodies moving with a drugged, syrupy slowness. Ellie stood, her legs shaky.
Immediately, they followed. They didn’t stand and walk. They crawled after her on the linoleum, their eyes fixed on her, noses twitching. Brianna moved with a desperate, scrambling energy, her massive ass swaying with each lurch. Kendra’s crawl was slower, more deliberate, her powerful thighs bunching and releasing.
The sight sent a shock of pure, unadulterated power straight through Ellie. She stopped in the middle of the kitchen, near the sticky table. They stopped at her feet, looking up, waiting.
“You just can’t help it, can you?” Ellie mused, her tone conversational, dorky, as if discussing a tricky coding problem. “Like, it’s a biological imperative now. Follow the smell.”
She reached down, her hands clumsy with excitement. One hand landed on the curve of Brianna’s rear, clad in flimsy sleep shorts. The other found the dense, soft swell of Kendra’s ass. She squeezed. Not a romantic caress, but a groping, possessive handful of each.
They moaned in unison, pushing back against her hands, their tongues lolling out.
“That’s it,” Ellie whispered, her glasses slipping down her nose. She pushed her fingers harder, kneading the plentiful flesh through the fabric. “Such big, dumb shitters. Just for me. Yeah, you like that, don’t you? My little sniff-hounds.”
Brianna, ever the over-achiever, began to rock her hips, making her ass jiggle in Ellie’s grip. Kendra, following her lead, did the same, the movement slower, deeper, a seismic shift of curves.
“Show me,” Ellie commanded, stepping back, her breath short.
They got to their feet, movements uncoordinated. They turned, bending over, placing their hands on the crumb-covered table. And they twerked. It wasn’t the practiced, Instagram-ready motion they were capable of. It was jerky, desperate, animalistic. A presentation. Brianna’s pale cheeks clapped with frantic energy. Kendra’s darker, fuller expanse rippled in a heavy, mesmerizing wave. The kitchen filled with the sound of slapping flesh and their ragged, hungry pants.
Ellie watched, her own body screaming for release. The bindings were agony, a straining pressure against her zipper. The sight of them, her formerly sharp roommates reduced to mindless, twerking animals for her approval, was the most potent aphrodisiac she’d ever known. She fumbled with the drawstring of her sweatpants.
The fabric fell. The bindings, stretched to their limit, gave way.
The smell changed. It intensified, ripened, curdling from that sweet musk into something profoundly organic, a pungent, greasy, locker-room stench that somehow, in this twisted context, was the most perfect perfume imaginable.
Brianna and Kendra froze mid-shake. Their heads swiveled. Their eyes, already glazed, now seemed to film over completely, pupils swallowing the irises. A thread of drooze spilled from Brianna’s lip. A low, continuous whine vibrated in Kendra’s throat.
They stared at Ellie’s cock, thick and heavy and ruddy with need, the air around it visibly warped by the new layer of scent.
“Whoa,” Ellie giggled nervously, adjusting her glasses with one hand while the other self-consciously gestured. “Sorry, it’s, uh… it’s been a while. Since airing out. You know?”
They didn’t know. They only panted, creeping closer on their knees, their noses flaring.
“You want it?” Ellie asked, her voice light, playful, even as her heart hammered against her ribs. “My good bimbo piggies want their treat?”
They nodded, their chins wet.
“Okay,” she said, as if agreeing to share a bag of chips. She stepped forward, the tip brushing Brianna’s cheek. Brianna’s tongue darted out, a pink streak against the flushed skin, and she lapped at the salty, musky pre-beading there. Her eyes rolled back.
“Open up, Bri-Bri,” Ellie said, her fingers tangling in the blonde hair. She guided herself forward, not gently, pushing past Brianna’s plump, willing lips. Brianna gagged for a second, then relaxed, her throat working, her nose buried in the coarse hair at the base. Ellie sighed, a shaky, triumphant sound. “Yeah. That’s your job now. Just a dumb set of lips for me to plunge into.”
She pulled out, a slick pop, and turned to Kendra, whose mouth was already open, waiting. “Your turn, Kenny. Don’t be greedy, just take it.”
Kendra did. She took it deeper, a low, guttural groan vibrating around Ellie’s shaft. Ellie switched between them, back and forth, a crude, rhythmic piston feeding into their eager mouths. She praised them in that same, awkward, conversational tone.
“Good piggy. Such a good, greedy hog. You love that, don’t you? The taste? The smell? It’s all you can think about.” She laughed, a little breathlessly. “It’s all you will think about. I’m gonna keep you both. Feed you nothing but junk so these fat asses get even fatter. Fuck you whenever I want. You’re just… mine. My collection. My hogs.”
An idea, dark and delightful and born from a lifetime of hidden kinks, surfaced. She pulled free entirely, both of them leaning forward with a sob of loss.
“I want to hear it,” Ellie said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on. Let me hear those big, spoiled guts. For me.”
She pushed Brianna back over the table, yanking her shorts down. She planted her hands on the pale, expansive cheeks and pushed. Brianna, understanding, strained. The sound that erupted was a low, prolonged, bubbling trumpet that shook the table. The air grew thick with another, earthier note.
Ellie beamed. “Oh, wow! Yes! Perfect!” She turned to Kendra, who was already positioning herself. Kendra’s was deeper, a resonant, rippling blast that seemed to go on forever.
The kitchen stank now of pheromones, sweat, and the deep, gut-level proof of their utter ownership. Ellie, her cock aching, looked between her two roommates—her pets, her pigs—their faces smeared, their bodies obedient and waiting, the air around them fouled by her command.
She had never felt so at home in her own skin. The narrative was rewriting itself in real time, and she was the author of every beautiful, filthy line.