Hell's Household Ch. 01

And there they were, those wobbly, trembly mounds of melon-tastic bustiliciousness.It was eerie, the way they hung in the air. How could breasts so large remain so perky without a bra, or - at this point, any kind of support?! The tender skin of her unveiled fem-mountains gleamed from hundreds of camera-flashes firing off almost at once. But that, that undeniable evidence of attention, desire - that only made her nipples yet harder. The dark nubs were already nearly as wide as fingertips, could they swell tighter? Become yet more sensitive?

And here was yet another dilemma; the natural, womanly shame she should have felt was overwhelmed by the sweet trickle of yet more of that Rush-sensation! How long could she afford to bask in the escalating lust of the multitude?

Far too long. She held her pose for a full five seconds afterwards. That seemed like all the time she could allot herself in the interest of surprised disbelief, before the semblance of modesty that was fading from her had to be addressed.

She made an almost-convincing motion to cover up her boobs, and remembered to put up a demure expression of gaping shock. But what fascinated as much as frightened her was that there was almost no shame. All these people looking, lusting for her! She just wanted more of it! Her heart hammered in her chest as exhibitionist tendrils of unimaginable sluttiness coiled around her soul. Deep down, she wanted men to come at her, naked. She wanted to feel a forest of dicks thrusting, caressing, jabbing her skin! Her pussy lips unfurled as a primal yearning from deep inside her womb told her how good it would be for dozens of those dicks to be gushing, spewing their male release on her, in her, all over her! She wanted Flat-girl to suck furiously at her nipples! She wanted Killer-cock between her legs, even the Quarterback could be fun. She wanted them lusting, cumming, as she drank it all in! Heather Cox would give her naked body to the lusting masses, that she might drink from -

"And we're heading this way." Came a firm, female voice that she didn't recognize. A short, red-headed woman dressed in a khaki trenchcoat with thick sunglasses dragged her arm and was pulling her firmly off the stadium mat towards the corridor that would lead to the lockers.

Men in suits and coaches of both teams were rushing towards the center of the mat, confusion and concern on their faces as they would attempt to make sense of the madness that had enveloped.

But who was this woman? There was something comforting,familiar about her -but Heather was quite sure she'd never seen her before. It must be the hair, it was such a deep, rich shade of red, almost...no it was a noticeable match for Heather's own shade!

"It'll be better this way, can't have you sprouting in front of a crowd, not this kind of crowd, at least." Khaki trenchcoat said.

"But who - "

"Better to say that I'm a friend of your Mother's, for now."

"But, where are you taking me I - "

But the emergency exit doors where opened, and an ambulance was right there. Lights flashing, but no siren yet. It had been waiting, and ready.

"But I - "

"You've just been attacked; you must've suffered burns... somewhere. " Mom's friend decided. "So it's only natural that you disappear off into an ambulance as quick as possible. "

"I guess that's - " But then the doors opened. It was the geeky kid, Superslurpee, who'd drenched her first leotard. The one whose cock she'd grabbed, without knowing why. He was here, inside the Ambulance; but as for his medical problems, they seemed sexual in nature.

A part of her understood now, what had happened, why she had just reached into his pants to grab hold of his dick.

Preparation.

To stew.

In his own juices.

The boys cock tented his pants mountainously, the way his steely member throbbed, Heather could be forgiven for thinking of a Cape Canaveral Rocket rumbling before the final blast-off. The boy was a junkie; from the maddening, sweating mania on his face, and his moist brow, it was clear he was already hopelessly addicted to something he'd never even had.

Her.

"D-don't care... If I g-go to prison...Need it... Need you... be.... inside you..." he gurgled, hips jerking as if his explosive dick was dragging him forward with the steely tug of psychopathic lust.

Heather didn't know him, didn't especially like him. But she hungered. With an animal snarl, she tore off the paltry, scorched remainders of her gym leotard, and leapt into the Ambulance, tackling him, bodies entwining, thrusting, licking, humping, grinding, sweating. From each throat came a simultaneous, inarticulate howl of lusting savagery as desire fed upon desire which kindled into a sizzling stew of rutting estrus beyond reason.

**********

Mitzi Melbourne was ecstatic! She didn't understand what had happened, exactly. But somebody up there must be looking out for her! That Heather slut, somehow she'd still been exposed! It didn't happen the way Mitzy planned but hey, no complaints! The slut still got what she had coming to her! Mitzi mentally rehearsed her speech before she walked through the doors of the Dean's office.

"Okay, it's all Professor Biggs' fault. He's been touching me inappropriately all semester! But I was just so afraid because I'm a lonely little student, and he's such a powerful, important man!" That'll teach him for giving her a 'D' in general studies!

Dean Bartowski was a stern, heavily moustachioed academic who seemed as though a little cartoon stormcloud should be perpetually raining over his head. "Sit down, Miss Melbourne."

"Ohhh..... Dean... Bar-Bartowski... it was horrible..." She sobbed! She could turn it on and off like a faucet!

"Before this goes any further, Miss Melbourne, tell me; is this your phone?" He held up a clear plastic zip-bag with - sure enough, Mitzi's smartphone inside it!

"Wh- huh? Ohh... oh yeah! I dropped it.... earlier! Great! I'm soooo glad you got it back!"

"Yes, we were quite fortunate to recover it; Told us a lot of important details about recent events here, in the athletic department." the Dean rumbled.

"Whaa - y-you didn't... go through my contacts? Why would you do that?"

"No Miss Melbourne, we did not. However...." the Dean gestured behind her with his pudgy fingers as the door to his office opened again. A blunt-faced man in a grey trenchcoat with a badge on the lapel stepped in, crossing his arms in silent appraisal.

"Unfortunetely, the recent... incident got the Mayor all over my department, and our forensics team has completed a thorough examination of everything Heather Cox might have come into contact with the day before the .... incident."

"H-Heather who?" Her eyes widened with innocent confusion.

"Y'see, Miss Melbourne - " The blunt-faced man continued. "We found this particular phone on the premises, and it turns out we found something interesting."

"Interesting? Well, I don't see what that has to do with me?" Mitzi shrugged.

"Apparently," the Dean cut in. "It has a great deal to do with you! That girl was taken away in an Ambulance!" The Dean gave the side of his desk a quick pound with a hammy fist for emphasis.

"I... I didn't..."

"Didn't you, Miss Melbourne?" Blunt-face asked rhetorically. "See, our techs had to examine the scene of the attack, and they discovered some form of unknown, organic accelerant; it's something... frankly which they've never before encountered. Some flammable agent that they can't find anywhere, in any reference guide."

"I'm not a chemist..." Mitzi pleaded.

"I almost wonder about that, because it turns out, the only other object where that unknown accelerant has been found was - " he pointed. "On your phone. Which you just identified. You are the only link to what happened in the stadium, Miss Melbourne. And it was clear to everyone, with that kind of deliberate pattern of incineration, there was just no way this is anything but foul play. I'm afraid you're needed.... downtown... we've got a lot of questions for you!" His voice deepened ominously. Mitzi's lips quivered in terror.

"It was her tits! Damn those tits!"

End Part One!!!