The Love Bomb

It was just at the crack of dawn when the media frenzy converged upon the Sommer Park Pavillion venue. Detective Emma Seidel ducked under the yellow Polizei tape, passing by a horde of reporters standing in front of the scene. Under the cacophony of noise, she caught a few choice words from the press.

"A violent sexual assault-" "-mass orgy or riot?" "-gone missing." "-sex, drugs, and music." "-no injuries reported but-"

Yeah... good luck trying to explain this one to the folks back home, Emma thought with a smile. She was dressed in plainclothes, with plain looks to match. With shoulder length blonde hair and a white blouse over black trousers, she looked a bit out of place next to all the uniformed Polizei. Most of the concert goers had been cleared out, though interviews from witnesses were still being taken even hours after everything had calmed down.

"So!" Emma said, putting on a pair of black leather gloves as she approached a gaggle of officers, "We have a missing persons report on singer Isabel, possible sexual assault charges on something like a hundred concert goers, public indecency and disorderly conduct. Yet... nobody was hurt. No real violence of any kind."

"Yeah." An officer scoffed, "You'd think they'd be tearing each other apart to get a piece of her. Be nice if we could get these kinds of riots at the world cup."

"What're we doing working overnight like this?" Another complained, "I'm sure she'll show up in a few days. Girl's probably just ashamed to show her face after fucking half the venue. Bet she was just hopped up on something."

"Oh please." Emma shook her head and vaulted up onto the stage, looking down at the other officers, "You think that's what happened here?"

The rest of them looked at her with incredulity.

"You got a better theory, Detective Seidel?" A tired-eyed policewoman asked.

She knelt low and furrowed her brow, staring at a spot on the stage. The detective took note of a small stain on the ground, smeared and dry. She scratched a bit of flakes off with the tip of her black gloved finger.

"Let's start from the beginning." Emma said with a wild grin.

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Isabel stood backstage, alone in the dimly lit chamber. She was immaculately made up and dressed for the occasion, with her sandy brown hair in a pixie cut complimented by a regal golden bodycon dress. Her emerald eyes shone through the veil of dark mascara, matching the shade of pinkish red on her lips. It was a simple but elegant look, with fashionable boots to round it off.

It was a concert like any other. She'd been doing this for nearly a decade now and these venues before hundreds of darling fans was nothing new. Isa had gotten her first record deal at 19 and never looked back. Isabel's grandmother was an opera singer and her father was an actor. At a young age her mother encouraged her musical pursuits and praised her as a prodigy. She grew up being told how amazing she was at every turn- how beautiful her voice was. Later the reviews focused on her looks. She was always thoroughly absorbed in her appearance, taking full advantage of the coaches and private training available to them as the nouveau riche. Her body was a work of art, adorned further by the elaborate floral tattoo sprawling from her left shoulder down to her back. Few ever saw it in full- the art on Isa's skin was for her alone.

She couldn't stand how all of her sycophantic fans became so fixated on her fashion and style. An exclusive meet and greet was scheduled after the show and Isabel couldn't have been less enthused. Just because they paid for a VIP ticket, she was expected to greet them like old friends or something!

Just thinking about it soured her expression. It was just her in the band, but for events like these her manager picked up some other musicians to back her up. Isa didn't say a word to them as they joined her, a keyboardist and drummer who knew well enough not to even try to distinguish themselves up on stage.

Suddenly, the lights came on backstage and the curtain began to draw away, revealing Isa before the cheering crowd. She strode out confidently, almost arrogantly, serenading them all with her impassioned song. They hung onto her every word, so utterly enthralled.

Her eyes were like verdant jewels, gliding over the masses. Every step she took, every graceful gesture made crinkles in the taut fabric of her bronzed dress.

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The investigation took Emma and the other officers to a computer atop a table set out on the scene. They were reviewing the tapes of the official recording and a collection of recordings collected from fans as evidence.

When the camera got a real good close up on the singer's beautiful and languid face, Emma stopped the video, "See there? No dilation in the pupils. No excessive sweating or paleness. The cameras in the backstage were on her for at least fifteen minutes."

"So we can probably rule out drugs." Another officer muttered.

Emma fast-forwarded to the next song, noting that this was the point where things started to change. A few missed notes here and there- from all the band members. At some point, Isabel's voice went hoarse and she completely fell silent on a high note. She was clutching the microphone stand close to her body, as if the tiny thing would offer her any support.

"Whatever it was, it hit all the band members at once. See, they're affected too." Emma noted, "Notice something? They're all licking their lips a lot. Isa might just be getting a dry mouth from all the singing. Now... let's look at the crowd."

She switched to another angle and zoomed in on the front row. Now that they were looking for it, there certainly were a lot of people licking their lips! It was uncanny...

Isabel moaned into the microphone and straddled the stand, her words losing a bit of their coherence. Its presence between her thighs made her dress cling so tightly to her fit body...

"Somebody put an aphrodisiac in the air, maybe?" Emma hummed, "Some kind of frequency that kicks your sex drive into gear? Feel like they'd have noticed in rehearsal..."

The detective's curious and insatiable smile was a little... unsettling. She was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

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"M-miei sensi... unh." Isa closed her eyes as another fresh wave of intoxicating NEED radiated throughout her body, "In mezzo... a quelle-oah."

The rest of the chorus wouldn't come out and she shook her head. The singer looked down at the microphone stand between her legs and swallowed the lump in her throat. When did that happen? Was she... using it like that?

Her eyes drifted over to the crowd, where she saw a young man with stars in his eyes. Isabel licked her lips, a deep thirst suddenly coming over her. She was practically salivating like a dog... and the concert-goers in front of her were all panting like one!

"Ehi..." she weakly called out, reaching towards the figure, darkened in the moonlit crowd. All she could see were his eyes, full of adulation, "Come on."

Isabel never invited fans up on stage. She absolutely hated having anything to do them... but for some reason, she found herself encouraging him.

"Come up here." She said in a normal speaking voice, carried halfway across the outdoor concert hall.

The young man pounced upon this once-in-a-lifetime chance, scrambling to the stage to join her. In the light shining center stage, she could finally see him more clearly and Isa found him so very... ordinary.

His features weren't ugly... but she wouldn't call him attractive either. He had wide ears and a large nose, features so unseemly for a woman used to the rich and famous- the young and the beautiful. Yet the more she looked, the more she found him... enthralling. In his eyes burned a passion, a hunger. A hunger for her.

Her heart was aflutter and her breath labored- but he was afflicted with a lust far more potent. His eyes flitted left and right, up and down, all over her body.

"You... uh-" Isa's eyes drifted over his face, "-excited to be here?"

She put the microphone up to his lips but all he could offer in response was a slurred "Mmmuuh."

Maybe he was nervous. Isabel smiled for an instant at the thought, pulling the mic back to herself- the long stand rode up her thighs and rubbed her just right, sending tingles through her spine.

She held it close against her body, noting more and more how the sensation gratified her. She was definitely aroused, no doubt about it. Isa was soaking her silken panties and leaving a moistness along the now warm metal rod.

For whatever reason, she instinctually reached out to test the man before her- to see if he was aroused as well. She groped his crotch, squeezing and patting until she found it... and found him very hard indeed beneath his ill-fitted jeans. She ran her palm down his length and the crowd cheered. Some in the back gasped in horror- but those nearest found themselves absolutely thrilled with the lurid spectacle.

It was so very unlike her... she wouldn't have done such a disgraceful act on stage in a thousand years. The young man abruptly grabbed her arm and leaned in, kissing her desperately. He kissed like a virgin, she thought- and this wasn't altogether a terrible thing... it was even exhilerating in a way. He had a needy passion to be sated- and he so brazenly plunged his tongue down her throat. The crowd got louder, roaring and shouting. No words were spoken- just guttaral howls and jeers.

Isabel was grinding her pussy against the stand now, rolling her hips up and down. The man squeezed one of her breasts through the fabric of her golden gown as she brought her other hand to his belt and zipper. Clamping her thighs shut on the mic stand, Isa's graceful hands worked his cock free in no time.

She was a romantic ballad singer- a dignified pop idol... not the sort of woman to pull such a shocking display out on stage! Moreover, such a thing would be considered abhorrant by her fans. She was classier than that... she was the Princess Diana of her age- refined and graceful.

And here she was, fondling some boy up on stage in front of thousands... and for no other apparent reason than single-minded lust.

"Unnnghhhkh~" He moaned, eyes rolling up into the back of his head as he started to spasm. His hips gyrated and he fucked at the air, yet Isabel held onto him tightly- almost resolute... with barely any action on her part, he came.

Thousands of people watched some random fan spray his dirty cum all across the lovely Isabel's stomach and thighs- painting thick globs of white over the bronzed gold of her bodycon dress.

Her eyes widened and her mouth went agape in surprise. So soon! So... pathetically soon!

"Really?" She asked, furrowing her brow with a sharp exhale. It verged on laughter.

A pang of remorse and shame washed over her- for only a moment, until the most pressing need of her desire returned, and begged her to find a suitor. There was no guilt in laughing at him- but rather in the lurid act to begin with.

It was scandalous enough to engage in such debauchery with one person... Isabel hoped to sate herself on him alone- yet now her eyes turned back out to the crowd. Surely, among the hundreds assembled before her- she could find a man among them to satisfy her.

She stepped forward, towards them all. Her hand was the left part of her body to leave the man behind, withdrawing from his spent cock with his cum dripping down her palm and in between the webbing of her fingers.

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Emma Seidel stopped the video the instant Isa took a twirl and fell backwards off the stage. The officers all watched the singer disappear into the mass of adoring fans.

"Aaaaand there she goes." The detective sighed, "Over a hundred witnesses and nobody could tell us where she went after this point." To further complicate matters, the crowd swarmed the stage and started messing with the other band members. They were respectable women, in every respect... so it was hard to imagine they'd all just spontaneously descend into this frenzy.

Emma took the investigation back over to the concert grounds, where some other Polizei were casing all the physical evidence. She stood at the edge of the stage, the very same place where Isabel stepped off from.

She hopped down and started scanning the ground, full as it was with trash and the usual kind of debris that accompanies venues like this. Remarkably, there were quite a few articles of clothing strewn about. The detective's eyes flashed when she took note of the boot laying upon the grounds.

"See here, that's our girl!" Emma pointed out, "She either surfed the crowd or they carried her over in this direction... They stripped her down, item by item."

The spectating officers looked to one another nervously as their lead detective followed the trail of crumbs...

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Isabel felt hands all over her body, propping her up- groping her... she lost track of where she was in the crowd, whether she was one foot off the ground or seven- whether two men were holding her up or half a dozen. The mass of bodies became indistinguishable from one another- a blur of lust and passion given human form.

She lost sight of the stage, lost sight of her bandmates and the illusion of safety... of normalcy. What was she doing? Why was she losing herself like this? Getting all caught up in this... fervor? This... mania. This was beneath her. This was the sort of thing a horde of slavering pop fans would succumb to- not the star herself.

"Fuck me." She whispered.

But no one heard her.

"..."

Isabel licked her lips... "F-fuck me!"

Her other boot was wrenched free and someone snapped the necklace off of her slender throat. A hand drove up the bottom of her dress, hiking it high up on her hips and exposing her soaking wet panties. They were silk, regal and violet, and soon- torn off of her body, exposing her sex.

She let out a moan as someone groped her, rubbing his coarse fingers over her pussy, teasing at her womanly lips before pushing in- and penetrating her. A finger. A single...dirty... finger. Some stranger's prodding lust and violation! Isa's womanhood clenched on him and she let out a throaty moan.

Isabel was lowered down, carried at waist level by her fans. One of her feet dangled freely, brushing against the grass below. She blinked and focused her eyes on the... thing begging for her attention at eye-level. A grubby hand stroked the top of her head, guiding her towards its owner's cock. A throbbing thing- an ugly thing- a manly thing... Isa leaned forward and opened her mouth, taking the hot and heavy tool between her lips. She so lovingly sucked it, heedless of whatever wretch of a man might possess it. She reached out to wrap her fingers around the base, stroking him.

Though her thoughts were hazy and blurred from one thing to the next, this was in contrast to all of the men around her- who seemed so single minded in their ravenous desires. They couldn't utter a word- only guttural slurring and sighs. They were drooling and clamoring to touch her...

Isa felt more than hands groping and brushing against her- a hot thing, both soft and hard Some impertinent superfan was rubbing his filthy cock over her cheek and the back of her neck. She pulled free of the first one and turned her smoky jade eyes up to its owner- a sweaty and desperate man, his lips pursed and his teeth bared.

She took to pleasing him as well, bobbing her head over his manhood as if she were an affectionate lover. As if he meant something to her... all these people idolized her, came here just to see the world famous Isabel perform.

It didn't take long for their frenzied passion to get the better of them. She felt the ugly thing twitching and throbbing against her lips, and within a moment, out spurted a steady stream of his thick spunk- coating her pink tongue in its gooey filth. Her eyes watered at this man's particularly bitter taste but swallowed it all the same. Just as she drew away, another man let out a pleasured groan. She had no idea where he was... until she felt a hot spray rain down over her short hair and forehead. A thick river ran down her temple until her eyebrow caught it.

A man pulled at her dress, exposing one breast and more of the exquisite floral tattoo crawling down from her shoulder to the small of her back- vines curling and blooming out along the graceful curvature of her spine and shoulder blade. Someone was appreciating it with their hands... then someone else started to spread her legs.

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"Detective Seidel!" A voice called out from the makeshift holding center where witnesses were interviewed and released, "The paramedics just released Isabel's keyboardist."

"No injuries?" Emma asked, standing up and marching over towards the cordoned off section of the concert grounds.

"None. She's ready for your interrogation, detective."

The eccentric woman followed the Polizei over to where the witness was waiting. All things considered, she looked quite fine for a woman apparently gang-raped on stage. A pretty thing, as most musicians were, in borrowed clothes courtesy of the ambulance and wrapped in blankets.

"So, Frau Becker." The detective said with an affable smile as she sat down on a large amp next to the woman, "Would you care to tell us what you remember?"

"Well... she said, "We had just finished up the first song and I started to feel a little... fuzzy." Miss Becker said, "Like I had too much to drink. Next thing I know, the concert's over and I'm here. I feel like I kinda... blacked out."

Emma nodded.

"They say I... was having sex on stage?" The young woman continued, "With a bunch of the fans? I do feel kind of... sore."

She looked gravely disturbed, but the paramedics briefed Emma Seidel ahead of time that the keyboardist had shown few signs of aggression, if any, from her numerous partners that night. They also largely eschewed any kind of anal intercourse.

The detective concluded her interview in short order and returned to her ruminations over the evidence. This 'black out' seemed to be something shared between all the 'victims' and 'perpetrators' of this bizarre orgy. Among the fans who were involved in the sexual assaults, there was no common factor. Age, marital status, ethnicity or economic class- there was no correlation. Even sexual orientation didn't matter.

The suspects were acting... uncharacteristically. If it was just about satiating some kind of mindless lust- wouldn't they have attempted to take the womens' rear entrances? The video of the keyboardist on stage revealed that while she was pleasuring them with her mouth and hands- they made no effort to actually obtain such gratification.

They weren't totally mindless... more like controlled by something.

To what end? Their preference was for reproductive sex- or at least vaginal sex. It wasn't just a compulsion to fuck- it was the compulsion to breed. They even took their time...

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Isabel was on the ground, surrounded by all of her fans. She threw her bronze and gold dress over her head, with some help from the men around her. It ended up flung somewhere off to the side, disgraced and disavowed.

She scrambled to her feet and reached out for a warm body. Her fingers hooked into a man's belt and she looked up, "Get... down."

With a low "Mmmm" he complied, obediently sitting down and then laying flat. He quickly undid his pants and got them down only until his thighs before Isa swung her leg over him and straddled him. She reached in between her thighs and ran her graceful fingers over his hard cock. She guided him to her sex, rubbing his sensitive head against her sensitive outer lips. With a sigh of gratification, she sat down and obscured his manhood, her walls giving way to every inch of his member until her clit kissed at his groin. "Nngh. Yeah." She spat, "Tight fit, yeah?"