Catching the Starflake Girls Ch. 03

The Mad Scientist had stood and brushed himself off. He'd left Jodi bent over the liftgate and made his way over to Tiffany, where he lowered himself again and stared at her bosom unflinchingly for a long time. He watched her chest expand and contract as she breathed. The fabric between the buttons of her blouse parted when she inhaled, exposing the furrowy shadow of her tanned cleavage and the thin bow stitched into her bra between the cups. Every so often Tiffany mustered a little whimper that bounced off the street pavement and the light posts in a hollow echo. But for the most part the only sounds were the wind through the leaves and Tiffany's deep breaths.

The Mad Scientist fumbled at the girl's collar, then began to unbutton her blouse. "You're such a pretty little tease," he said. He untucked Tiffany's blouse and fluffed out its flaps, then undid the second-to-last button. Her cleavage was exposed now, and the inner hemispheres of frilly white nylon that cupped the melonous curves of her tits. He practically rubbed his eyes on her chest. The rise of her breasts was defined in the seam that traversed her bra cups, describing the equator of each ample mammary.

"Looking is a disease. It is also a discipline." The Mad Scientist worked loose the last satiny-thin buttonhole and brushed the front of Tiffany's blouse to her sides. The realization sank in that she was being undressed without any concern for her will and she let two mewling whines, turning away from the Mad Scientist. She was oblivious to everything but her own plight and the invasive presence of the horrid, leering old man who barged in on her most guarded personal space with such undisguised lasciviousness, who so flagrantly violated her privacy, the modesties of her body. So she hardly noticed that her melodramatic turn of the head gave her the sultry lassitude of a girl in chains on the cover of a science fiction novel. Her pouty, dry sobs and fussy, trembling trepidation only reminded the Mad Scientist of girls he'd seen in magazines who he'd wanted to possess.

Unfortunately for Tiffany, she poorly understood perversion of the Mad Scientist's sort. She believed her only hope to be that he would see her misery and take mercy on her (although she also hoped once she remembered how to talk to plead with the scientist and convince him to exert most of his sickening lust on her friend, Jodi). So in a gamble for pity she transmitted as much of her suffering into her body and expression as she could, given the paralyzer that coursed through her veins and hobbled her. But this just made her enticing to the Mad Scientist, more the pretty, helpless damsel. It enflamed him.

"I've been watching you for a long time," he told the inert Tiffany. "I've memorized your body," he stared transfixed at Tiffany's nearly naked breasts, "by looking at you through the corner of my eye." He raised up to study her face. "You've seen me, haven't you?"

She looked back, desperate to know his intentions. Under the scientist's cruelties she had indeed waxed fretful: her brow was terraced with worrylines and her lips pulled into a tremulous frown, a girl afraid of monsters from the underbed.

"Haven't you?" the Mad Scientist repeated. "I've been halfway down the aisle at the grocery store." Tiffany sniveled, confused. He leaned in even closer, pressed the bony tip of his nose to Tiffany's cheek. She smelled of drugstore perfume and chewing gum. He groaned with pleasure; a cloud of foul breath settled in Tiffany's nostrils and covered her face with warm droplets.

"Behind you," he murmured, "in line," he groped one of her legs at the thigh and lifted it, "at the ATM." He played under the ornamental belt around her waist, still holding her leg with the other hand. He found the waistband of her skirt and tugged at it, pulling the silky petite apron down to the front of her legs. He glanced at her lap. Under the decorative belt she was wearing snowy white panties, bunched over the fresh little cherry of her pube.

He raised to a crouch and and clutched Tiffany at the ankles, pulling her legs and lower waist into a line. She slumped down the tree. Her blonde hair gathered over both shoulders, her chin slouched to her chest. With a stretch and a yank at the waistband the Mad Scientist drew the girl's skirt along the length of her legs and left them gathered at her feet.

He spread her knees apart and nuzzled up to her lap. He held his eye against her crotch. "Tracking you as you bounce and twitter through your college co-ed life, looking when I can, staring when I can through the corner of my eye." He gave her pussy a sniff. Cotton and laundry, a touch of sweat, a touch of musk. "Enjoyable, but the real pleasure is when the stalking pays off and I catch you and then I can look, and touch. All. I. Want."

The two sleepy sprites in the back of his station wagon had rocked in time with the humps in the road as he'd driven them back to his secluded country house, and had been light and obedient as he'd conveyed them to his lair. Jodi had hummed obliviously, slurring the first two bars of a simple pop song over and over, while the Mad Scientist dragged her—legs trailing behind, ankles tangled up in the denim shorts bundled around her feet—to the rack nearer the door. He draped her over it face down but upright, and strapped her tight at the arms and waist.

"Are we going for another ride?" she had asked vacantly.

The Mad Scientist had threaded Jodi's feet through her wadded shorts, then tossed the dinky garment aside. Her legs dangled passively over the stout metal trunk of the rack to which the scientist was fastening her, and he guided her ankles easily to the leather straps, binding her calves a few inches apart.

Stoned in a different way—in the unsteady, giggly throes of the syringful of euphoric the Mad Scientist had drained into the back of her fleshy thigh—Tiffany had cooperated idiotically as the scientist immobilized her for molestation. Grasping her by the shoulders, the Mad Scientist had maneuvered Tiffany to the waiting rack on the far side of Jodi's succulent, immobilized body. Tiffany stood idly by, nibbling on a fingernail, allowing the Mad Scientist to reach around her and pop the clasp on her powdery white bra. It snapped like a rubber band and its cups bounced on the tops of her breasts, which settled and separated, given back their weight.

The Mad Scientist ran his fingers up the ridges of her ribs and lifted her naked breasts on the venuses of his hands, then clutched them greedily. Her cottony-satin bra wrinkled, pinched in her undulating cleavage. The scoops of flesh were light and filled the scientist's groping palms. He revved with lust. He squeezed her mammaries hard, as though gearing up to unscrew them like jelly jars.

"Oop!" she said, and tittered.

As the Mad Scientist drew Tiffany's bra past her underarms and over her elbows, he stared at her bosom, laid bare—the copper-tinged pinkness of her pubescent teats, the bobbling curves of her milk-glands—and feared again that he might lose control. He imagined forcing the bubbly girl to her knees and feeling her warm breasts press against his thighs as he worked himself to orgasm between her lips. In his mind's eye, he relished the airheaded, trusting look of surprise that would wash over her as he steadily, patiently face-fucked her. The saucer-eyed distress she would show when the slick wads of salty fuckbutter slimed her tongue and cheeks, burning her throat.

The scientist collected himself. Trying to ignore the aching sensitivity in his groin, he had removed Tiffany's bra, lowered her arms, and guided her wrists to the waiting cuffs in the heavy steel girlmount behind her.

The Mad Scientist jiggled Tiffany's naked breast, which bounced pertly, slapping his palm. He pinched and shook it.

"Look," he said. "Fresh milk." The sexbeast rose from slathering its filmy nostrils up and down Tiffany's wobbling upper thigh like a side of roast he was about to dig into. The Mad Scientist gave Tiffany's nipple a tweak. The fuckbeast started to rise up on its hind legs.

"Suck the rosy button," it muttered, saliva trickling down its horned chin. It clasped Tiffany's callow, pink mammary and growled at the Mad Scientist, scaring off its competitor. It closed its clammy black mouth over the tip of Tiffany's quivering tit. The cold viscosity of the fuckbeast's spit-syrup sent a bitter chill through the girl, who shivered like someone was stepping on her grave.

The Mad Scientist had distracted the fuckbeast in order to wriggle around to Tiffany's lap—slapping her slim belly as he did so—and shimmy her frosty panties down her thighs. He tugged at Tiffany's tiny underpants and their waistband popped with a snap. Another tug sideways and they came right off. They felt heavy and he saw that they drooped in his hand, weeping filth, because they were streaked with gobs of the fuckbeast's snot. As the Mad Scientist carried the panties up to her chin, a long goop of snot dribbled off them and left a streak in Tiffany's glistening cleavage. He wiped a glob of wet germs onto Tiffany's mouth. She sputtered, sending it spraying in drops.

"Open," the Mad Scientist said. Tiffany shook her head and moaned, snot bubbling on her lips. But she obeyed. She let her tongue hang out limply. Her upper lip curled into a twitching, apprehensive sneer but she relaxed it, as the scientist had demanded. The scientist gathered the wet panties into a long, thin roll like he was going to scrub a caked-in spot on Tiffany's cheek. He jammed the panties into her mouth and gave them three good stuffs. She protested—mmf!—but didn't really resist, merely gazed in confusion at him.

He fluffed the knot of panty sticking out of Tiffany's mouth like a bouquet. Mucus ringed Tiffany's lips. She turned up her face in revulsion and her abdomen contracted in a dry heave. But a minute later she had settled down, even if she still trembled from the nauseating thing she was being made to endure.

"Eat the yummy snot," the Mad Scientist quipped, with perfect cruelty.

Meanwhile the fuckbeast was suckling waifish Tif with a growing urgency. It sucked and tugged and nibbled at her tender nipple in a near frenzy, splattering greasy slobber all over her squishy milkmounds. Tiffany went slack in her restraints. Her bottom eased its pinch on the harness's hard, downturned bike seat; her shoulders dipped as she tipped backward. She let an ambiguous, humming sigh into the soiled panties quieting her. Another shiver crackled through her, causing her shoulders to buck and her tits to jiggle. A glistening string of suck-oil bubbled from her left breast to the creature's drooling lip. When she trembled, the string shimmered and popped and a long trickle dripped from the bottom of her breast onto the top of her thigh.