Succumbing to Menudia Ch. 04

"First the cute, shy blonde one, now the tall, square-jawed, self-righteous Catholic one? Goodness, so many new toys to play with! But, we all must remember: different playthings require different approaches...

"And don't we still have a few more flowers to pluck? Pity to allow them to... loiter around like this. Honestly, my initial acquisitions have been so exciting, I've almost become distracted..."

*****

Tired, sore, bleary-eyed, Mason stumbled out of the barn and glanced out toward the field and across the rolling hills.

An honest-to-goodness miracle. Not a Menudian in sight!

And yet... why not?

Perhaps they'd all finally crawled back into their mysterious little holes for good? He didn't trust this eerie calm one bit. One thing was for sure though: that rickety old faded red structure, straight out of a Norman Rockwell illustration, had apparently turned out to be quite the safe spot.

Gently closing the barn door, he darted west, where he theorized he'd eventually come across the parking lot and, in theory, the road that would take him back to the town, the campus... and back to God damn safety? Ah, but that was going to be a long walk -- a couple of hours, at least -- and his snack supply was running low. Assuming the Menudians would continue to remain dormant, of course, which would have been one foolish assumption indeed.

Nevertheless, Mason proceeded to sneak through the foliage that skirted the meadow. The evening's sleep had been far from the most luxurious he'd ever experienced, but somehow, he'd managed.

Now if only he'd managed to wipe away that image, almost frozen in place like a photograph, of Emily's peculiar facial expression as Menudia's methods overtook her. Why couldn't he have just... looked away?

Having tried in vain all night to swap out that haunting facade for another, the only alternative that bothered to appear was an image of his own face, with that same alien, impassive expression on it, virtually unrecognizable, and yet presenting itself in his psyche with microscopic clarity.

He was beginning to realize that perhaps it wasn't Menudia's numbers that necessarily gave her such overwhelming strength, but a kind of "soft power," almost as much psychological as it was physical, like the carefully chosen scent and lighting scheme at a Vegas casino. The allure of joining all the others, that temptation to simply give in, to be seduced by the promise of leaving all your responsibilities behind...

But that was them, not him! Self-control was all he'd ever known, virtually having become his identity. If he ever became something other than that, then who, precisely, would he be?

Like, if there had been a way to "try it out" for a little while, and then switch back, like giving a new cable company a shot, maybe he wouldn't have been so terrified of it. But the notion of never being the "same" again, never being able to "undo" it...

Just as he was passing the pond, this dilemma still churning in his mind, he spotted a familiar figure making her way down the hill and toward the water.

It looked like... hey, wasn't that Karen?

Mason breathed a sigh of relief. Ah yes, there was still a little hope left after all.

Naturally, throughout those volatile college years, having to stand idly by watching every other nerdy, inexperienced girl at Sacred Saints suddenly hook up with that very first boyfriend and get her cherry popped, the bitter taste of envy in his mouth, he consoled himself with the knowledge that there would always be hopeless cases like Karen.

You could say that she and Mason were allies of a sort. Like him, she surely felt that subtle sting of betrayal whenever one of her fellow celibates inevitably "joined the club." There was an unspoken bond, never discussed, but always present. And as long as he could glance at Karen, and be assured that there was still at least one other student alongside him who was equally frustrated, equally stuck, then he didn't feel quite so bad about himself.

But upon closer inspection, Mason soon came to realize that... something was different about her. Very different.

It couldn't be. Not Karen.

It seemed impossible. But somehow he knew.

Oh no.

Her brown hair, previously having been braided blandly behind her head, now flowed messily and teasingly about her shoulders. Gone was the plain black zip-up hoodie, as she was now prancing around in a bright pink t-shirt with a zany, rainbow-colored graphic on it, eagerly taking advantage of its having been a couple of sizes too small for her, which gave her the chance to show off her cute midriff.

Mason could also see that she must have jettisoned her bra, since her pointy nipples were now poking excitedly behind her t-shirt. Although not entirely absent, her rampant acne seemed to have been toned down by some skillfully applied makeup. On top of all that, the top button of her grey corduroy slacks was dangling open, her fly half-unzipped.

It was the last thing he wanted to admit, but he found this transformed Karen unexpectedly... sexy?

It wasn't just the way she was carrying herself, or how she was utilizing her outfit to accentuate her figure; it was the contrast between who she'd been before, and who she'd suddenly become. The very transformation itself was a part of the allure.

Yes, he felt betrayed, yes, he felt angry, but mainly he felt... astonished? Mason had never even thought about Karen in that "way" for one measly second, but looking at her now... he resented his own impulse, but he almost wanted to just stare at her and gape.

Perhaps he should have sprinted back into the woods, but he was too fascinated, too curious. If that's what becoming a Menudian could do for Karen, then imagine what it could have done for him. For the first time, was he truly beginning to... waver?

He slowly made his way around the pond and toward her. It was just the two of them. As long as he didn't look into her eyes, she couldn't take him.

Besides, it wasn't exactly her eyes he felt like looking at.

"Karen? Karen?"

She seemed to have other business to attend to, and wasn't making much of an effort to pretend that she hadn't already been "taken," but Menudia appeared to be allowing this quick interlude.

"Oh, hello Mason."

He could sense her sinister eyes searching for his, but he avoided making contact. Plus, that belly was simply too tasty.

"Yes, they've finally taken me. And... we'll only be too happy to take you too."

"Karen... how did they... there's no way you..."

"Don't you think it's time you've... stopped resisting us?" She did her best to stare straight into her uninitiated peer and bring him over, but soon realized what she was up against. "I see you've learned our little Menudian secret," Karen observed with a mixture of disappointment and seductiveness. "Fortunately, I fell for Ellis's trick."

"Ellis? You mean..."

Well that was it then. Perhaps he was truly screwed.

"Yes... and it was wonderful.... you'll see. Why are you running from it? Don't you finally want to... relax? I know how you feel. I was just like you once. But if you simply look into my eyes, all that fear, that envy... it'll vanish in an instant..."

"Karen... you don't know what you're saying... there must be a way to... surely you can snap out of it!"

"Very cute, avoiding my eyes. Of course, you're free to look... other places." She'd caught him glancing at the fly of her corduroy pants. Karen was wearing those pants like she couldn't wait to get Mason into them.

"You're playing, right? This is... this is just a joke? Ha ha?"

"You're always the funny one, but I know what's not so funny -- a boy as passionate, as handsome, as sexy as you, never having tasted these pleasures. Everything can change so quickly, Mason -- just look at the girl standing here before you as evidence. You know, my orders were to make my way to Menudia's castle, but... those orders could easily be redirected...." She coyly kneaded the bottom of her t-shirt with her hands. "Don't you want to know how good it feels to be... one of us?"

"It's just not... right somehow.. you're being controlled!"

"Hmm." She flipped back her hair with her hand. "Controlled. Funny, I never knew how badly I'd wanted to be controlled, until it finally happened...... you'll understand..."

Her words were the most persuasive ones yet. Maybe he'd avoided it long enough? Maybe he needed to just...

No. It was wrong. It was sick. It flew in the face of everything he believed about himself.

"Never. Never!!"

Mason turned and ran.

Karen continued on toward the castle. "Yes, Menudia..."

*****

Curt slowly opened his eyes again.

After another enjoyable rest of indeterminate length, he found himself lying face-down on the massage table where Julie had been reclining earlier, wearing nothing but a soft white towel wrapped around his waist. Gone was the satin robe, in either its dry or wet state. Hadn't he and Emily just... how long had it been since... how had he ended up on the...

Honestly? It didn't matter.

Flickering candlelight permeated the room, and relaxing quasi-new age music trickled down from somewhere above him. The air was warm, but not uncomfortably so. His skin felt smooth and light. He sensed the presence of someone else in the room, but he could only catch the sound of soft footsteps, and feel the merest hint of movement behind his naked back.

Then, without warning, a pool of warm oil began flowing over his shoulders and spine, followed by the caress of feminine fingers.

"It's time for a little massage of your own, Curt."

The voice was Angela's.

A slight erection began forming against the towel and the table, as Angela spread the oil down his back and across his arms. But when he felt another sensitive pair of hands drip a separate batch of golden liquid onto his feet, he started to wonder if his brain was deceiving him. Did Angela suddenly have company? He tried to lift his head off the table to take a look, but Angela gently pressed it back down.

"Just relax..."

Through that truncated glimpse, all he'd seen was Angela, still wearing her cropped peasant blouse and long floral print skirt -- no outfit could have been more tailor-made for such a beautiful, holistically-inclined masseuse. But whoever, or whatever, was massaging his feet was doing an outstanding job, that was for sure.

"I really enjoyed the massage you gave me earlier."

Ah-hah. It was Julie.

"I thought it would only be fitting that I help return the favor."

Curt could see that this was going to be quite the massage.

"But Angela's really the trained masseuse here," Julie added self-effacingly.

"Well, I just figured this would be the perfect opportunity to show Julie a thing or two -- and I'm sure you agree, Curt."

Her hands slid up to his neck, while Julie's moved across his ankles and onto his calves. He couldn't quite tell if occasional whispers were passing between them, but as far as he was concerned, they could whisper about whatever the fuck they wanted to.

Angela made her way down his shoulders and lats, spending a minute or two near the vicinity of his ass cheeks, but hardly venturing beneath the towel. Meanwhile, Julie inched toward his outer thighs. If it hadn't been for his special little prior adventures with Vanessa and Emily, he might have easily stained the towel already, but for the time being, his erection remained pleasantly embryonic.

The busty blonde stretched his arms out and dragged her palms across them, while Julie did the same with his legs. Time became an abstraction. Perhaps he dozed off a bit, perhaps he didn't. He knew he was in good hands with these two.

"So now I'm going to need you to turn over," Angela instructed matter-of-factly. Curt didn't hesitate to comply.

Now lying face-up, he opened his eyes for a moment and could see that Julie had changed into a long-sleeve button-up dress shirt, similar to the one Haley had worn to the picnic, but a bit tighter and curvier, sporting alternating vertical blue, grey, and white stripes. The shirt was paired with some straight leg blue jeans -- an excellent look for her all around, and a nice contrast to the midi cami dress she'd been wearing earlier, the glasses resting on her nose adding to her overall smart, studious vibe.

"Hey... relax..."

Angela quickly dried her right hand onto the towel so that she could push his eyes shut. Then another welcome stream of oil flowed onto his chest, which Angela soon spread across his rippling pectoral muscles, while Julie continued to focus on his feet and calves. There would be time to stare at the girls' tastefully cute outfits later, he figured, as he allowed a heaviness to pass over his eyes.

Next, Angela worked on the other side of his neck and shoulders (now that he was lying face-up), while Julie inched her way toward his inner thighs, causing his little bump underneath the towel to mischievously expand, before traveling back down to his lower leg. A few minutes later, when Angela slathered another stream of oil onto his belly, his bump proceeded to lift the towel straight up into the air as he involuntarily squirmed and arched his back.

Good God. He was throbbing almost to the point of release, as his little Curt bobbed up and down against the soft white cloth, barely able to tolerate Angela's stimulation of his stomach area. Perhaps sensing this, she let her hands drift back up toward his ribs and sternum. After a little while, the bulge quietly disappeared into oblivion, Julie all the while stroking his feet and ankles.

Just as he was about to doze off again, he thought he heard Angela whisper to her partner. Julie spread the towel wide open, and, without warning, Angela proceeded to directly massage the shaft of his penis.

Curt winced and gripped the sides of the massage table as he felt his erection go from zero to sixty, but Angela was taking a gentle approach, being mindful not to satisfy him just yet. In fact, after only a couple of minutes of spreading the oil onto his manhood, she drifted back toward his stomach. Julie quietly closed his junk back up under the towel, patting his erection twice softly through the cloth, before sliding her hands down to Curt's thighs.

Then, once he grew limp, Julie parted the towel again, and Angela wrapped her slippery fingers around his glorious pipe once more, relishing the sensation of it speedily enlarging in her hand, before letting it fall back onto his tummy and returning her hands to his chest, allowing Julie to place the towel over him in a sweet, motherly fashion, like she'd already done moments earlier.

This quickly became a pattern, Angela demonstrating admirable skill and finesse as she worked and worked Curt's tool in her slick hands, dancing along the edge of bringing his climax to fruition, the eerie Menudian glow peeking through his fluttering eyelids, only to delicately pull back, leaving his cock to slink its way down to its unaroused form, with Julie wrapping it up neatly under the towel.

"Oh my God, he's adorable," Julie whispered to Angela after roughly the fifth or sixth rendition of this ritual.

He understood: they were trying to build up his tolerance, teach him control, and maximize his eventual release, whenever it might happen to arrive. He had faith in their methods, and was delighted to be the recipient of Angela's expertise in tantric massage, or lingam massage, or whatever the fuck she wanted to call it. Yep, Curt was perfectly content with losing and re-gaining his erection as many times as they deemed necessary, allowing his arousal to ebb and flow with the girls' strategic stimulation.

"Just breathe through your nose," Angela suggested.

His eyes having fully closed, he didn't happen to catch Julie give Angela one final nod.

Julie opened the sheet in the same manner she'd been doing for the last half hour or so. Once again, Angela applied her hands to Curt's soft cock and gingerly stroked it, letting it harden, then she stopped and let it soften just a touch, but this time not quite all the way. She put the pressure on, then took it off, put it back on, then took it off again, performing a truncated version of the whole ritual in microcosm.

Meanwhile, Julie allowed the fingers on her right hand to slide further up his thighs so that they were now softly tickling his scrotum, while she held Curt's right hand in her left hand, providing him with the emotional comfort she knew he was about to need.

Angela placed her free hand a few inches away from Curt's tip. After two special motions from her fingers (which she'd been keeping in reserve), Curt's back rose two inches off the table, his breathing grew unexpectedly deep and noisy, and he began discharging onto Angela's palm.

As his wide-open eyes turned incandescent, he heard a slightly wicked voice that was Angela's, and also not quite Angela's, caressing his eardrums.

"Succumb!... Succumb!..."

The sensual hippie masseuse continued to slide his tip between her thumb and index finger, making sure that Curt released each and every drop that had been waiting there so patiently to be let out. The slippery white fluid began trickling off Angela's palm and started collecting onto the pool of slippery yellow fluid that coated Curt's belly.

All the while, Julie rubbed his ball sack and inner thighs with her right hand, and continued to stroke his right palm with the soothing fingers of her left hand. They'd made him wait so long, it was critical to make sure his orgasm was fulfilling.

When the last drops fell meekly onto Angela's other hand, she turned around, grabbed a clean white towel that had been resting on the table behind her, and methodically wiped up the pool of pearly pleasure that had collected onto Curt's tummy and her non-jerking hand, while Julie's two hands trickled their way past his outer thighs and knees. Angela's palms now being relatively clean, she rubbed him on the head.

"Good boy."

But by that point, he was already half asleep. Awake or not, Angela and Julie proceeded to give the non-reproductive segments of his body some further attention.

"He certainly looks relaxed now," Julie observed at a volume slightly above a whisper as Angela rubbed his neck again.

"Mm-hmm."

At this point, having successfully massaged Curt to orgasm, feeling sexy and feminine and invigorated and open to the exploration of her desires, Angela started eyeing Julie in a special way.

"I like your new outfit, Julie."

"Thanks." While Julie appreciated the compliment, she was still trying to focus on kneading Curt's calves.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, Menudia's got all sorts of cute clothes in her castle, in like a thousand styles, whatever your size -- it's amazing. You should totally go explore it for yourself."

"I guess I will. Been so busy with things like... you know, helping Curt and stuff."

Sensing that their "client" had fallen into a deep sleep, Julie finally stepped back from her task and inched closer to her fellow Menudian masseuse. She'd always considered Angela one of her more attractive fellow students, but after seeing those sensitive hands in action, and the little glint in Angela's eye, Julie truly began to soak in her free-spirted friend.

"That outfit's kind of perfect for you, though," Julie commented, her eyes now unabashedly traveling up and down Angela's body. "The 'milk maid' blouse goes great with the skirt -- and really shows off your abs too."

"Thank you, Julie. I like it too. I didn't think I'd necessarily have a chance to take off my sweater at the picnic, but Greg certainly handled that for me, and now... well, here we are!" She'd scooted up face-to-face with Julie, right at Curt's oily feet, and was now staring at Julie's jeans in a troubled sort of way. "But those jeans, though, they're super cute."