Part 3.

Peter instinctively looked down again, cringing at the sight of the miniscule bulge in the front of his costume. “This isn’t funny!” he exclaimed, his heart racing.

Marissa chuckled, relishing his discomfort. “Oh, but it is! And I have a little deal for you.” She produced a bulky pink diaper from behind her back, holding it up like a trophy. “You can wear this under your costume, just for a little bit, and I’ll keep your little secret safe.”

“What secret?” he asked, his stomach churning.

“You know, the one about how you’re rocking a baby carrot down there.” She smirked, clearly enjoying the power she held over him. “If you refuse, I’ll have to drag you out into the gym like this, and can you imagine the looks you’d get? Everyone would see you hopping around in that bunny suit, baby carrot bulge and all. It would be so cute—and maybe a little humiliating!”

The thought of being exposed in front of all his classmates sent a wave of panic crashing over him. He looked at the three girls, each slightly taller than him… He realized if they wanted to they could easily overpower him and toss him into the gym as he was…

“No, please…”

Marissa’s grin widened, and she leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “So what’s it going to be, Peter? Wear the diaper, and I’ll keep my mouth shut. No one has to know what a little loser you are. Just a little show for us.”

Feeling trapped, Peter’s mind raced. The idea of wearing a diaper was humiliating, but the alternative was far worse. He could already picture the scene in the gym, the laughter, the pointing fingers.
With a heavy sigh, he felt a wave of defeat wash over him.

“Fine… I’ll do it,” he muttered, hating himself for giving in.

“Perfect!” Marissa chirped, clapping her hands in delight. “Just think of it as a little… accessory. Trust me; it’ll be our little secret.”

As she tossed the diaper to him, Peter caught it reflexively, staring at the oversized pink diaper in disbelief. This can’t be happening, he thought, feeling a mix of shame and resignation.

“Now, be a good bunny and put it on. I can’t wait to see how silly you look wearing your bunny costume with a big diaper underneath!”

The girl in the tight black cat costume sauntered up behind Peter, surprising him as he felt her hands run across the back of his bunny onesie. She purred in his ear, “Here, baby, let me help you with your zipper…”


Peter started to blush as his knees went weak, he had next to no experience with girls and her forwardness was making his head spin. Peter was terrified of being naked in front of them, especially with whatever Marissa had done to him down there… He stammered, “W-woah, wait! This is uh –”

Marissa rolled her eyes and teased, “Oh relax, this is way more like a girl dressing her doll than you finally getting some action…”

Peter flinched, “b-but I can dress myself! Let me change in the stall, please!”

Marissa and her friends giggled as they looked at Peter, his Bunny onesie unzipped, big pink diaper in his hands, a pleading look on his face.
“Whatever, hurry up” says Marissa dismissively.

The girl in the black cat costume let go of Peter and he quickly shuffled into the nearest stall with the oversized diaper clutched nervously to his chest.The big diaper crinkled as he placed it on the top of the toilet and spun around to close the stall door. He closed off the sight of the three girls mocking grins as he swung the stall door shut, locking it in place.

Peter stopped himself from breathing a sigh of relief. Even though Marissa and her friends couldn’t see him right now, their constant giggles hammered into his mind that there was no escape. With trembling hands he finished unzipping the back of the bunny onesie and took it off, hanging the humiliating garment on the clothes hook that adorned the back of the stall door. Standing in front of the toilet, the oversized pink diaper sitting on its closed lid… Peter wore nothing at all, and he had to look down and confront what had happened to him.

“You better get those PAMPERS on this instant, Peter!” From outside the stall Marissa shouted in a mock scolding tone, like she was his mother.

Peter stood in the cramped stall, trembling as he stared down at himself. He felt his stomach twist in knots, the sight of his newly diminished manhood made his head spin. The baby carrot. Marissa’s words echoed in his mind. His eyes stung, and he forced back tears.

From beyond the stall, the laughter of Marissa and her friends broke the silence, a constant reminder that he had no control here. They had stripped him of everything and now he stood with nothing but an oversized pink diaper in his hands.

He wanted to resist, to fight back, but the fear of being exposed in front of everyone, hopping around in the bunny costume with nothing to hide his shame… the fear loomed in his mind. It was too much.

With a sigh, Peter unfolded the diaper. The crinkling noise echoed in the stall, as if though the diaper itself was mocking him. Slowly, he bent down, sliding the bulky diaper up his legs. The sensation was alien and humiliating. The thick padding forced his legs far apart and he had to assume an awkward squat to accommodate, each movement brought more crinkles. He fumbled with the tapes, securing them in place as the laughter outside grew quieter, almost too quiet.

Just as he took a breath, about to reach for the bunny onesie, he heard it. A soft click.

The stall door had unlocked!

Peter’s eyes widened in panic. He spun around just in time to see the stall door swing open.

Outside Marissa and her friends were pointing and laughing… as there was Peter, awkwardly squatting in the open stall, wearing nothing but a big, padded pink diaper…

[to be continued...🐇 comments\feedback\criticisms greatly appreciated 🐇]

Part 2

Peter’s breath came in short gasps as he stared into the bathroom mirror, the ridiculous baby blue bunny onesie clinging tightly to his body. The floppy ears above his head, the cotton tail bouncing on his rear, the absurdity of it all gnawed at him. His original clothes were nowhere to be found. There was no choice… either he walked out in this humiliating costume or faced the prospect of leaving the bathroom completely naked.

Resigned, he tugged at the tight hood framing his face, trying to adjust it, though there was no hiding how utterly ridiculous he looked. His heart pounded as he opened the bathroom door, stepping into the hallway.

To his horror, Marissa and her friends were waiting for him. Marissa’s eyes sparkled with that same mischievous glee she had shown earlier, her mouth twisting into a wicked smile. His head was spinning as he stood in front of Marissa and her friends. The sounds of the Halloween party in the gym echoed faintly through the walls. It was bad enough being seen by Marissa and her two friends, but Peter couldn’t get the fear out of his head of everyone else in the gym seeing him. His eyes darted nervously up and down the empty hallway, then back to Marissa, who was watching him with a predatory smile.

His heart pounded in his chest, each thud reverberating in his ears. Marissa and her friends surrounded him with smirks on their faces. His ridiculous bunny costume clung to his body, the hood tight around his face, ears drooping down mockingly, and the fluffy cotton tail wiggling with every anxious movement.

Marissa’s gaze scanned his whole body, settling on his blushing face framed by the bunny hood, her eyes gleaming with playful malice. “Oh my God, Peeeee-ter,” she said, dragging out his name with exaggerated innocence.

“What happened to your costume? I thought you were going as some big, tough superhero.”

Peter started to stammer, and he instinctively tugged at the edges of the bunny suit, trying to cover himself as much as possible. “I—uh…” He glanced down, unable to meet her eyes. “There was a mix-up or something.”

“A mix-up?” One of Marissa’s friends, a blonde girl dressed in a tight-fitting cat costume, stepped forward, her hands on her hips. “You mean you didn’t pick this out on purpose? It suits you so well!”

Another girl chimed in, giggling, “Yeah, you’re kinda known for being immature. I mean, look at that little tail!” She grabbed the fluffy tail and lifted, causing Peter to instinctively rise onto his tippy toes to avoid getting a wedgie. Peter’s stomach turned as they all erupted into laughter.

Peter’s throat tightened, his words stuck somewhere between shame and frustration. He looked up at Marissa, hoping for some mercy, but her smile only widened, enjoying every second of his torment.

“You don’t like it?” Marissa asked, feigning concern as she stepped closer. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well, if you’re so unhappy, Peter, maybe we can help.” She paused, letting the moment hang in the air as her friends exchanged knowing looks.

Peter’s heart leapt, a flicker of hope sparking to life. “Help?” he asked, his voice shaky but desperate. “You mean you have my normal clothes?”

Marissa tilted her head and gave a playful look. “Maybe. Or maybe we’ve got something even better for you to change into,” she teased, her tone light but laced with cruelty.

Peter’s heart sank as he realized this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped. “What... what do you mean?”
“Well,” Marissa said, drawing out the word as if savoring his discomfort, “if you want what we have, you’re going to have to earn it.” She glanced at her friends, who giggled in unison, then turned her gaze back to Peter.

 â€śSince you’re already dressed as a bunny, why not hop along behind us? Like a good little bunny.”

The girl holding his rabbit tail finally let go, causing the back of the onesie to snap against Peter’s bottom as he teetered on tippy toes before landing awkwardly in a squat.

Peter’s stomach dropped. His heart pounded in his chest, the absurdity of her command mixing with the icy realization that he had no choice. He looked from Marissa to her friends and then back down at his ridiculous costume. The thought of hopping like a bunny behind them made his skin crawl—but so did the idea of staying trapped in this outfit for any longer.

He hesitated. “You can’t be serious…”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Marissa said, smirking. “Unless you’d prefer to head back to the gym just like this? I’m sure everyone would love to see you hopping around in that cute little onesie.”

The distant sound of laughter from the gym made Peter’s blood run cold. He pictured the crowd of students, their mocking faces, the cruel whispers that would spread like wildfire. Anything was better than being seen like this.
His gaze dropped, defeated. “Fine…” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it.”

Marissa’s grin widened, her friends giggling in delight. “Good boy,” she purred, turning on her heel. “Now hop along, Peter. Let’s see those bunny feet in action.”

Peter's cheeks burned, but he bent his knees, feeling the ridiculous tail wiggling on his backside. He pushed off the ground, giving a small, humiliating hop forward.

The first hop was like a punch to his gut, sending shockwaves of embarrassment through him. Marissa and her friends turned and began walking ahead, their steps slow and deliberate, making sure Peter kept pace behind them. One of the girls, dressed as a sultry cat in tight black spandex, glanced back over her shoulder, her teaming with cruel amusement.
“Aw, look at the little bunny hopping!” she teased, her voice sickly sweet.

Peter’s stomach twisted, but his legs kept moving. Hop. Hop. Hop. The humiliating sound of his own bare feet hitting the ground echoed in the empty hallway as he trailed behind them.

As he bounced along, his eyes began to wander. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop glancing at the backsides of Marissa and her friends. Their costumes clung to their bodies, accentuating every curve—the short skirts swaying with every step, their long legs exposed and toned. Marissa’s tight witch costume, and the way it hugged her hips, made Peter’s pulse quicken with a confusing mix of attraction and shame.

He tried to look away, but his gaze kept returning to the sway of their hips, the flick of the cat tail in front of him, the rhythmic movement of their butts as they walked. Each hop only magnified his sense of vulnerability, the soft fabric of his bunny suit clinging to him, leaving his own hairless legs exposed and cold. He burned with shame, and yet… he couldn’t stop staring.

“Keep up, Peter,” Marissa called over her shoulder, her voice mocking. “Don’t fall behind, or we might just leave you here in your little bunny suit.”

Peter's heart raced as he pushed himself to hop faster, trying to match their pace. Each bounce sent his cotton tail wiggling, adding to the spectacle. Hop. Hop. Hop. The hallway felt longer with every step.

Marissa’s friends shot him smug glances, whispering to each other between giggles. Peter’s eyes darted from one to the other, his mind clouded with shame and strange, conflicting desires. He hated every moment of this, but he couldn’t stop hopping, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them.

Peter’s couldn't believe it as he followed Marissa and her friends into the women’s bathroom. The bright lights and long mirrors made him acutely aware of his ridiculous bunny costume, which clung to him in all the wrong places. “What are we doing here?” asked Peter, his voice cracking.

Marissa leaned against the counter, smiling devilishly. “Oh, just thought we’d check on our little bunny. You look so cute! But I can’t help but notice… something up front.” She motioned playfully toward the bulge in his costume.

Peter’s stomach dropped as he instinctively glanced down. The sight of the tenting at the front of his bunny suit sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over him. “I—this isn’t what it looks like!” he stammered, his face burning as he shifted awkwardly, trying to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“Oh really?” one of Marissa’s friends chimed in, dressed as a sultry cat, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Because it looks like someone’s got a little excitement going on! Are you feeling frisky?”

Another friend, clad in a tight costume, laughed. “I mean, I guess bunnies are known for being… excitable?”

“Shut up!” Peter shot back, feeling trapped between anger and embarrassment. He desperately tried to look anywhere but at the front of his costume.

Marissa stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “Oh, come on, Peter. Don’t be shy! Let’s see what you’re working with,” she teased, her voice now a sultry whisper. “Why don’t you take another look?”

Against his better judgment, Peter looked down again, his heart racing. The tenting had noticeably diminished, and to his horror, he realized that his manhood had shrunk to the size of a baby carrot. His head was spinning… This can’t be happening. How is this possible?

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed, in disbelief. “What the hell did you do to me?” His mind raced with conflicting emotions—anger, shame, and a twisted sense of confusion.

Marissa’s laughter rang out, and he could see her delight in his embarrassment. “Looks like you’ve got a little problem there, Peter. What happened to your big bunny pride?”

“How did you do that?” he asked, mortified.

“Now now, Peter… it’s not my fault that you’re underdeveloped…” Marissa said, her smirk growing wider. “Look at you, a bunny boy with a tiny little surprise up front. It’s adorable!”

Peter’s face was bright red, contrasting with the baby blue bunny hood that framed him. “No, no…” he muttered, wishing he could sink into the floor. He desperately placed his hands in front of his crotch, trying to hide the now baby carrot sized tent.

“Aw, don’t hide it! You’re just too cute for your own good,” one of the girls said, giggling with her friends.

“Just stop!” he pleaded, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, but we’re just getting started, baby!” Marissa teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

[to be continued...🐇 comments, feedback\criticisms greatly appreciated 🐇]

The gymnasium was alive with the spirit of Halloween. Streamers hung from the ceiling, swirling in vibrant oranges and purples, while a cacophony of laughter and playful screams filled the air. Students darted around in costumes ranging from the classics to the downright bizarre. It was his senior year, and Peter would soon be off to college.

Peter stood near the snack table, surrounded by a group of friends, all dressed in various iterations of superhero outfits. His own costume, a spandex, generic hero with a bright blue cape, was still in his locker. He was trying hard to project confidence, but underneath it all was a nagging insecurity.

“Check out that pumpkin!” one of his friends laughed, pointing to a student in an oversized pumpkin costume, its rotund shape making it difficult to navigate the crowded gym. The group erupted into laughter, and Peter joined in, feeling the camaraderie of the moment.

“Not as bad as the witch over there,” Peter scoffed, his gaze landing on Marissa, who stood across the room in a dazzling witch costume complete with a pointed hat and flowing black cape. She was chatting animatedly with her friends, the sparkle in her eyes and the confidence in her demeanor drawing the attention of those around her.

“Hey Marissa, nice witch costume... did your mommy pick that out for you?” he shouted, a smirk on his face. His friends chuckled, but there was an edge to his voice, as if he were trying to mask his own attraction to her with mockery.

The moment hung in the air, charged with a mix of amusement and tension.

Marissa's head snapped toward Peter, her expression shifting from surprise to amusement. She grinned as she crossed her arms, clearly unbothered by his jab.

“Oh, poor Peter,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “It must be tough being so insecure that you have to pick on girls just to feel like a man.”

Laughter erupted from her friends, and Peter felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He had expected her to be defensive, but instead, she turned his taunt back on him with a devastatingly sharp edge. Her confidence making him feel small and exposed.

For a fleeting moment, he felt a strange mix of attraction and resentment, as her words sank in, magnifying his insecurities. The laughter from her group echoed in his ears, amplifying his sense of isolation. It felt like everyone was in on a joke and he was the punchline.

“Next year, maybe you can be a real witch instead of a… wannabe,” he shot back nervously, trying to reclaim some power. But the bravado felt forced, and as he turned to walk away, his shoulders slumped slightly.

Just as he began to distance himself, Marissa called out, her voice light yet authoritative.

“Why don’t you walk away, little Peter?” The command hung in the air, making it seem as though he was dutifully following her lead.

His face burned with embarrassment as he hurried off, the laughter trailing behind him, and the blush on his cheeks deepened. He left the gym and was headed to his locker, maybe putting on his costume would help him get over this embarrassment.

Peter walked through the brightly lit hallway, the raucous laughter from the Halloween party was still audible. He replayed Marissa's taunt in his head. He needed to regain some semblance of confidence.

When he reached his locker, he unlocked it with shaking hands, his heart racing with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. As he swung the door open, he was greeted by an unexpected and humiliating sight: the interior was crammed full of packages of PAMPERS, their bright colors and big bubble letters glaring at him like an unforgiving spotlight.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his stomach dropping. The sight was bewildering and utterly mortifying, as if someone had orchestrated a cruel prank on him. He quickly scanned the mess, praying to find his costume bag hidden beneath the pile.

To his relief, he spotted it at the top of the locker—a normal brown paper bag that stood out against the chaos below. He grabbed it with a sigh, his heart still racing, the humiliation of the PAMPERS weighed heavily on his mind. He slammed the locker door shut, feeling a rush of anxiety. Was this some kind of joke?

Peter shook his head, trying to dismiss the confusion swirling in his thoughts. He didn’t want to think about the implications of finding all those PAMPERS. With the bag clutched tightly in his hand, he headed toward the bathroom to change, desperately trying to block out the lingering embarrassment.

Peter stepped into the brightly lit bathroom, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, starkly illuminating the white tiles. The quiet was overwhelming, broken only by the faint sound of running water from the toilets and the distant echoes of laughter from the Halloween festivities nearby.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, primarily focused on Marissa. She had turned his jab back on him with such skill that he felt both humiliated and angry. The heat of embarrassment still burned on his cheeks, but underneath that anger simmered a confusing attraction to her—the way she carried herself, the confidence that made her shine amidst the crowd. It was infuriating and intoxicating all at once.

With the brown paper bag clutched tightly in his hand, he moved to the nearest stall, his mind still racing as he thought about how he would confront her later. He quickly shoved the bag onto the tank of the toilet and opened it, pulling out the contents.

“Just get changed, and it’ll be fine,” he muttered to himself, trying to dismiss his rising emotions. He was on autopilot, mechanically slipping into the fabric without truly processing what he was wearing.

As he zipped up the back, a strange feeling washed over him, but he brushed it aside. Finally, he stepped out of the stall, ready to take on the world in his superhero guise. However, as he glanced in the mirror, his heart sank and his knees buckled.

Staring back at him was not the heroic figure he had envisioned, but a baby blue bunny onesie that clung snugly to his frame. The hood framed his face tightly, adorned with floppy bunny ears that waved slightly as he turned. The back of the onesie featured a big, fluffy cotton tail the size of a grapefruit, wiggling in ridiculous defiance as he moved.

“No... no way,” Peter gasped, his eyes widening in horror. He spun around, trying to comprehend the absurdity of the reflection before him. The onesie left his hairless legs and thighs completely exposed, amplifying his sense of vulnerability and humiliation.

Frantically, he looked around the bathroom, searching for any sign of his original clothes, but they were nowhere to be found. Panic gripped him as disbelief settled in—how had this happened? He was trapped in this ridiculous costume, the laughter from the party outside now a haunting reminder of his predicament.

Peter stood frozen in front of the mirror, grappling with the reality of his situation, desperately trying to block out the swirling embarrassment that threatened to engulf him.

Peter’s breath hitched as he stared into the bathroom mirror, the ridiculous baby blue bunny onesie clinging tightly to his body. The floppy ears above his head, the cotton tail bouncing on his rear, the absurdity of it all gnawed at him. His original clothes were gone. There was no choice—either he walked out in this humiliating costume or faced the prospect of leaving the bathroom completely naked.

Resigned, he tugged at the hood framing his face, trying to adjust it, though there was no hiding how utterly ridiculous he looked. His heart pounded as he opened the bathroom door, stepping into the hallway.

[to be continued...🐇]

Chapter 134.

When the girls returned about thirty minutes later, having showered, washed their panties, hoods and gloves, and put some soft wax on their leather shorts, the ladies were a little the worse for wear, and were watching the video in slo-mo.  Danielle looked up.
“Oh, where are your strap-ons, girls?  You don’t look complete without them.”
Kaiya laughed.  “I think Chantal’s had enough for one day!  Look at her, the sweetie.  Sleeping so quietly…”
“I was thinking of Bobby!” laughed Danielle.
Polly jumped up.  “Yes!  Bobby!  Why not?”
“Well,” said Barbara, looking at him with distaste, “I’m not sure I want to get that close…”
“We’ll clean him up for you!  No problem!”
“Yes, let’s!”
“No!” cried Bobby.  “You can’t!  You mustn’t!”
“If we sort him out,” said Eleanor seriously, “would you…?”
“Sure,” said Barbara, with a grin.  “He’s prepared, anyway.  He has a little rubber flower up his bum already!”
“He does?”
“Oh yes – don’t you, darling?  Come on, you know you love it…”
“No!  I don’t!  Please…”
But Eleanor was already releasing his hands while Diana unbuckled his shoes.  The next minute he was being frogmarched to the shower by four giggling women, while Eleanor stayed behind to clean up the mess.

Oh what fun they had.  His blouse, bridal gloves and skirt were carefully removed.  Off came the slimy sheath, and whilst he was in the shower Tracey took it upon herself to remove his harness and extract the flower plug, which she pulled out with a plop and presented to Polly as if it were a rose.
“Here darling – a token of my regard.!”
And they all fell about – literally in the case of Danielle, who had drunk the most of all of them.

They lathered him with peach body wash, and sprayed his device clean.
“This is so clever,” exclaimed Polly, examining it.  “A balls retainer underneath, and a little integral curled tube for his willy, making a lovely neat little ball.  Could someone hold it for me while I put on a new sheath…  It’s quite tight…”
She stretched the mouth open and worked it over the plastic ball, letting it snap home around the base of his pen-is.
“It’s really neat!  I’d like to fit all guys with these.  Instead of their horrible ugly things they’d just have a smooth, compact white rubber ball.”
“Yes,” agreed Danielle.  “And if the mouth was locked on, and only women had the key…”
“Yeah, cool!  Think how polite and obedient they’d all be.  All those arrogant pricks we know so well…”
They patted him dry with soft towels, scented and powdered him, sat him down and refreshed his makeup and his nipple gloss, and put fresh ribbons on his pigtails.  Eleanor had washed and dried his light knee-socks, and wiped his Mary Janes inside and out, and she joined her friends in the bathroom.  They soon had him dressed again, just as he’d been before, except without his latex harness.  Whilst all this was going on, Barbara and Kaiya had been having a quiet conversation in the living-room, next to the sleeping Chantal.
“Do you think she will?”
“I’m sure.  Don’t you think it’ll be fun to have our own sissy slave girl?”
“Can a girl be a sissy?”
“We’ll make her one.  Think of all the possibilities – all the ways to embarrass her.  And we can use her for dominatrix practice.”
“And we can maybe get her a puppy suit…”
“And a little kennel…”
“And she can lick us to sleep at night…”
“Ooh, yes.  And when we eat out…”
“She can eat too…under the table!”
“She got a good figure.  She’d look pretty in a rubber catsuit.”
“She would.  We can take her to parties.  She be a sensation.”
“And we could lend her out.  I’m sure she’d like that – being a piece of someone’s property.”
“We could organise sex shows with her and Bobby!  I’m sure Nicole would agree.”
“That would be so cool!  Have them both on leads.  Have a ring mistress with a whip directing them…”
“The possibilities are endless…”
“Yes.  I think we can say we’ve got one in the cage at least…  Now let’s see if we can snare the rest.  Are you ready?”
“Ready, Kaiya.  They’ve been drinking all day.  That should help.”
They heard the bathroom door open, and then the sound of laughter.
“Shh…  They’re coming back…”
“Okay.  Ready?”
“Wait till they see those strap-ons…!”
As the women entered the room, pushing Bobby in front of them, they rose politely, and held hands, like two maids in front of their mistresses.

Chapter 132.

“Ooh…  Let’s make a Chantal sandwich!” joked Kaiya, lying down on top of Chantal and fastening her teeth in the lobe of her left ear, leaving Barbara to probe her right with her tongue.  They lay quietly like this for a minute or so, a neat pile of three bodies, saying nothing, their sweat and their scents intermingling.  They were conscious of two sounds: a restless fidgeting from the female audience, and the tinkling of steel from Bobby bonds, less than a metre away from them, as he fought to keep himself under control.  Kaiya looked up at him.  His cheeks were flushed, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.  His head was turned to one side, apparently in an attempt to distract himself from the action.
“Having fun, Bobby?”
He frowned and shook his head, pretending to be unmoved by the scene right under his nose.  But the truth was that his coc-k was under extreme pressure, straining vainly inside the cruelly inadequate curled tube, and his nipples were throbbing fit to burst.  And there was nothing he could do to get the slightest relief.   Kaiya gave an unsympathetic snort of laughter.
“Are you ready, Chantal?”
Her only reply was a faint whimper.
“Okay.  I’ll start then, shall I Babs?”
“After you, darling…”
With a mischievous giggle, Kaiya lifted herself off Chantal and, kneeling back on her haunches with her hands on the girl’s waist, withdrew the dil-do to the base of the head, then slid it in as far as it would go.  As she was withdrawing a second time, Barbara elevated her hips a few inches, so that her dil-do was sliding forward whilst Kaiya’s was sliding back.  Thus synchronised, they soon attained a smooth, relentless rhythm, like a well-lubricated machine. At first, Chantal’s eyes widened with surprise, and she responded to each succeeding thrust with a little cry of pleasure.
“Oh…oh…oh…oh…”
The girls’ movements were as regular as a metronome’s.  The c-umulative effect was overwhelming, making her whole body thrill and vibrate.  She wanted to cry out, or beg them to pause, but she was physically unable to articulate anything but gasps or sobs, and was forced to abandon herself to the irresistible arousal building within.  Kaiya squeezed another bead of lube onto the gleaming shaft of her strap-on.  She controlled its rhythm by flexing her torso, her ponytail pattering against the back of her latex hood at each thrust, whilst Barbara, grinning up at her, flexed her hips.  Watching the steady in and out of the dil-dos, and listening to the soft, regular plap, plap, of the leather plates, Kaiya tried to imagine what Chantal must be feeling.   She couldn’t see her face – her head was now to the side of Barbara’s and her hands on the rug – but she was panting, emitting quiet grunts of pleasure, and her neck and ears were bright red.  After a while she began to respond, moving in rhythm with the rubber pistons smacking against her flesh.  She had discovered the clitoral stimulator at the base of Barbara’s phallus, now well-lubricated with her own juices, and at every thrust was grinding her clit against it, and getting more and more excited. 
Minutes passed.  The three girls were working up a sweat now, but moving together in perfect harmony.  It was like a choreographed ballet, albeit a repetitive one.  Barbara had slid her hands under Chantal’s top, and was playing with her nipples, pulling at them and rolling them in her fingers till they were stiff.  The women watching from across the room fidgeted in their seats, but barely blinked, anxious not to miss a moment.  Polly licked her lips with arousal and satisfaction.  She had been jealous of her daughter’s looks for a few years now, and seeing her being, as she thought, humiliated in front of everyone, gave her an extra little thrill of satisfaction.
“Those girls…  Outrageous!” murmured Diana Murchison, with a wicked smile, slightly adjusting the position of her phone as she could see Bobby was now goggling at the scene at his feet and gasping like a stranded fish.
“fuc-k her good and hard, girls…” hissed Tracey, to no-one in particular, slipping a hand inside her panties.  “Oh, no offence, Polly…”
“None taken, Trace.  She deserves everything she gets…”
Chantal herself, enjoying the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced, was feeling she could take it all and more, all the afternoon if necessary.   And she probably would have done, too, had not Barbara brought matters to a climax with just a few well-chosen words.  It was the triumph of psychology over physicality.  Turning her head sideways, she whispered in Chantal’s ear.
“Darling…  How would you like to be our permanent little fuc-k-puppy?”
A questioning groan was all she could summon up in reply.
“Come live with us.  Yes?  I promise we’ll look after you.  We’ll put you on a leash, take you everywhere with us, fuc-k you three times a day and make you eat our pussies in between…”
Barbara had her totally sussed her out.  It didn’t take a genius, after all.  The ease with which she had submitted to her violation, and her total, willing surrender to their will, even in front of her mother and her mother’s friends, told her all she needed to know.  Chantal’s reaction even better than she had hoped.  With a loud sob, her muscles tensed for a second, then she climaxed.
“YES…!  OH, YESSS…!”  She gripped the sides of the rug and pulled at them as if she were trying to left all three of them off the floor.
Whether she was merely c-umming, or also agreeing enthusiastically to Barbara’s suggestion, was not immediately clear – but the girls, by tacit agreement, never once altered the tempo of their thrusting, but carried her right through what turned out to be a spectacular two-minute orgasm.
And hers was not the only one.  It seemed to trigger everyone else in the room, except for Kaiya, who maintained her cool throughout.  It was too much even for Barbara, who thought for a moment she was going to faint from the sheer release.  But she focussed, stayed conscious, and continued to do her part.  Looking up, she saw Bobby, his face contorted with painful ecstasy, the white ball jerking violently as his pent-up c-um was forced from his straining, tightly-constricted coc-k.  The spherical white sheath swelled until it erupted from the lip in thick wads, streaming down his leg and splashing onto the base of the stand, splattering her and Chantal’s faces.  On the other side of the room Eleanor, with a groan, slid from her armchair onto the floor, Danielle, one hand under the table and the other holding her phone, moaned aloud, and Diana and the others shook and shuddered in communal orgasm.  Even Polly gave in to her instincts, muttering the single word “bitch” as she came – though whether referring to her daughter or herself no-one could tell.