Chapter 17: jealousy
Natasha’s voice was breathy, almost reverent, as she paced her kitchen in nothing but a silk robe hanging open, red hair wild from last night’s gangbang shoot, tits heavy and veiny, nipples still raw from the clamps she’d worn for the final scene. She clutched her phone like it was a lifeline, cigarette smoldering between her fingers.
“Angela, listen to this shit. Michelle finally spilled it last night after too much whiskey. Over twenty cocks in one day. Twenty-plus. Raw. Every single one creampie-focused. No condoms, no pulling out, just ‘nut in me’ on repeat like a broken fucking record.”
Angela’s silence on the other end lasted a beat too long, then a low whistle. “Jesus. That’s not a gangbang, that’s a goddamn massacre.”
Natasha cackled – whiskey-rough, delighted, the sound scraping her throat raw. “Exactly! And get this – she said it ‘feels better’ raw. Better for what? For the void, Angela. That screaming, unfillable black hole inside her that gets louder every time a load hits. It’s not about pleasure anymore. It’s about chasing that one flicker of silence when the cum floods her scarred little cervix and the abyss shuts up for thirty seconds.”
Angela exhaled slow, voice trembling with something between fear and fascination. “Fuck… twenty in a day. That’s not even human. That’s… maintenance. Like she’s topping off the tank so the screaming doesn’t start again.”
“Maintenance!” Natasha practically moaned the word, rubbing her thigh absentmindedly, fingers drifting toward the swollen, Hitachi-abused clit she kept buzzing twenty hours a day just to stay sane. “That’s perfect. She’s not fucking for fun. She’s fucking to survive. Twenty raw loads just to keep the void quiet till tomorrow. And tomorrow? She’ll need twenty-one. Then twenty-five. It never gets full. It just gets hungrier.”
Angela’s voice dropped, almost reverent. “We intellectualize it. Essays. Podcasts. ‘Reclaiming the creampie.’ But Michelle? She doesn’t need the story. She just spreads and takes it. No shame. No justification. Just the nut. The flush. The cackle.”
Natasha stubbed her cigarette out hard, eyes glazing over with that reptilian deadness. “She’s what we’re scared of becoming. The pure version. No filter. No cope. Just the hole and the hunger.”
Silence stretched on the line.
Then Angela whispered, “Do you think… one day… we’ll need twenty too?”
Before Natasha could answer, the group chat exploded – Madison and Lissa had been eavesdropping on speaker.
Madison (text): “lmao you old bitches still writing essays about cum? Michelle’s a dinosaur. We’re already at 30 on weekends and we’re not even 25 yet 💅”
Lissa (voice note, dead goth rasp): “Twenty? Cute. I did 28 last month. All raw. All BBC. All creampies. Didn’t even flush – just let it drip while I went to my next class. You fossils need theory to survive the void. We were born in it.”
Natasha and Angela stared at their phones, the whiskey buzz turning cold.
Natasha typed back, fingers shaking: “You little cunts think you’re deeper than Michelle?”
Madison (voice note, young and cruel): “Deeper? We skipped the void and went straight to hell. Michelle at least pretends to pick her cocks. We take anything with a pulse if it’s big enough to hurt. And we film it. Monetize it. Laugh about it. She’s old-school pure. We’re the upgrade.”
Lissa (text with photo – her pale goth body covered in cum, eyes completely vacant): “This was Tuesday. 32 loads. No condoms. No names. Just meat sleeve duties. Michelle’s scared of the abyss. We are the abyss. And we’re prettier.”
Angela’s voice cracked on the phone. “They’re… younger. Tighter. Hungrier.”
Natasha’s cackle came out hollow this time, almost scared. “Fuck. They’re not coping. They’re celebrating. Michelle was the warning. These two… they’re the future.”
The chat went silent for a beat.
Then Madison dropped the bomb.
Madison: “Speaking of future… Tom from accounting? That virgin simp who left Angela the note? He’s mine tonight. Church boy, fresh divorce, thinks he’s gonna ‘save’ someone. I’m wearing the schoolgirl skirt. Gonna make him nut raw while I whisper how many loads I took before him today.”
Lissa: “I’m next. Tomorrow. He’ll think Madison was intense. I’ll make him cry while he nuts in my ass.”
Madison: “Then Natasha. Then Angela. We’re gonna pass him around like a blunt till he’s begging to be our cuck. Michelle can watch from the sidelines – old news.”
Lissa: “One-up the queen. Break the simp completely. Film every load. Post the highlights. Make him watch us flush whatever sticks.”
Natasha and Angela looked at each other through the phone, whiskey glasses trembling.
The younger girls weren’t competing.
They were evolving.
And Michelle?
She was already texting the group: “Bring it, babies. I’ll show you how a real void breaks a man.”
The war was on.
Dead eyes all around now.
But the youngest ones were the hungriest.
Dead stare. Filthy laughter. Dead stare. Raw loadS coming for Tom. Dead stare. Hollow, youthful cackle.
The void had new queens.
And Tom was just the first sacrifice.