We are the Broad

Never give a virgin incel, who just so happens to have an IQ to rival that of Einstein or Stark, an inch, or they'll try to take forty years of a woman's life work.

That was what Melissa Caple-Caddock, a woman worth nearly thirty billion dollars, the owner of six international, multi-faceted companies, chair to a board of influentially wealthy globalist advisors, and recently publicly divorced, thought to herself as she strained against the two people she had only recently known as her employees, grunting with the effort as she tried in vain to free her arms from their grasp. Glancing down to her right, she flinched and pulled her eyes away, shock still swelling in her chest at the brazenness of this insurrection, as she saw the erection standing proudly in the open air between the thighs of the man to whom it belonged.

'I told you,' Melissa said, 'there's too many people in too many places for this to work. You'll never take over the entire structure--the board, the advisors, the regulatory bodies won't-'

'You fool.' The man said, stepping out from behind Melissa's own desk, the lights of the cityscape outside the extravagant windows behind it silhouetting the youth. He had Melissa's iPhone in his hand, holding it casually, like a simple plaything. Her lock screen was still the picture of her and her now ex-husband's marriage, and she could see the pair of them kissing beneath his thumb. 'You no longer have any power here. You haven't for months. Haven't you worked that out yet?' he said, gesturing with his free hand first to her left, then right. 'Do these two naked men not prove to you that even your most trusted staff are not yours to command any longer?'

Melissa had to admit he had a point. Ordinarily, the two males - who were both on significant salaries for the sake of their permanent, dedicated protection of her person, somewhere in the neighbourhood of two-hundred-thousand dollars a year - would have been her last, and most infallible line of personal security. If the president needed a secret service team of twelve to shadow him or her, then Melissa Caple-Caddock needed only two.

Boris Cechivic, the man whose penis she had glanced at moments ago, had been imported personally from Poland after being scouted out by the then president using secret inserted agents, and put on a ultra-top-security government-grade life policy that provided him nearly limitless access to the entire country of America for free in exchange for his undying--or dying--service.

Once he had been old enough to attend more mature education, he had been hand-schooled until he was 21, being taught everything from where to piss all the way up to mixed-mastered martial arts. He had six degrees, eight blackbelts, had won three fighting world cups, could outshoot the current government's chief military advisor - who was an ex-marine sniper - and legally owned four wives. Melissa had paid the U.S. Government five-hundred thousand dollars for his exclusive ownership, and she had paperwork in a secure vault somewhere that confirmed he belonged to her in full, complete with the presidential office's wax seal.

The man to her left, Jackson James, similarly undressed and equally as decorated, was six and a half feet tall, could run ten miles without breaking a sweat, and had an anonymised Guinness record for hauling a freight train over two miles, solo. The freight train, at the time, had carried a full complement of people. The son of two nobody farmers in America's extreme mid-west, he had been purchased by a private security corps' shell entity for nearly a million dollars at age twelve and had from that moment onwards been training every day of his life to be the fittest, smartest, toughest solo operator the country had to offer. The plan had been that, if ever the United States, and indeed by extension, the world, for of course the USA would represent Mother Earth and her people, ever needed a singular heroic saviour, perhaps for some form of alien combat arena or as a test of their people, Jackson Andrew James would be theirs.

So indeed, Melissa did have to concede the fact that they might just prove how fucked she really was. Only, she did have one trick left up her sleeve, just in case of an event such as this...

'Rope and fire,' she said. The young man frowned, and Melissa felt a tiny thrill shoot through her as she realised he didn't know what she was doing. You don't know all my tricks, boy. 'Angst and steam. Syrup and goat, miles and feet. Space, candy, arachnoid and follicle!'

The words, far from the gibberish of a terrified woman, were a secret trigger phrase, programmed into both men throughout their adolescence through a complex and careful regiment of active and passive subconscious implantation. Both men had attended nightly hypnosis sessions, followed by rigorous training, before going to sleep with brain pattern inducers and sound emitters. Every month, both had been tested to ensure their complete obedience was instantly and undeniably commanded at the sound of their trigger phrases, and neither had failed even a single test while under, nor had either failed to submit to their trigger phrases.

The smile died on Melissa's face as the two boys restraining her continued to hold her tight. She frowned - then, realised her error. Her fear had clearly caught her off guard.

'Men,' she ordered, 'release me and restrain him!'

Neither man moved. The frown deepened, and at that point Melissa realised that the young shithead standing in front of her was smiling - no, laughing at her. At her!

'Very good,' he applauded, 'very good. A little catch phrase, no doubt to trigger some deeply rooted brainwashing. Tell me, do they still think for themselves when under, or are they like dolls, only obedient to an order and nothing but the order?' The young man said, relishing his victory as he swaggered closer. 'Because that could become quite dangerous if the order were not carefully considered first.' The light fell across his face as he approached her, her phone hanging from his hand. 'Melissa, mine still think. My control doesn't rely on suppressing conscious thought or triggering special programming. Mine...' He trailed off. 'Well, yours is just so regimented. I mean, what if something changes? What If you decide you don't want them to obey you anymore? What if you deem their servitude a burden? You can't simply remove that programming - although, knowing you, Melissa, I'm sure you'd simply order them off the roof of your tower.' He stopped, two steps away from the billionaire. Her glowing blue eyes turned up to face him as he stood over her, glaring hatefully into his. The smarmy, slick-haired nerd just smiled as he watched her through her eyes, grappling for control she no longer held. He could tell she hated being like this - but it was a feeling she would have to quickly get used to, even if he enjoyed it so.

'I bet your control over them can't make them do this.' He said. Then, he snapped his fingers - though the act did nothing other than accentuate what happened next. Simultaneously, exactly at the moment his fingers clicked together, the snap ringing out in Melissa's spacious office, both men ejaculated spontaneously. Boris was a shooter, his load springing up into the air nearly as high as his own head before falling across Melissa's lavish silk carpet. Jackson wasn't as strong a shooter, but what he lacked in distance he made up for in volume. Thick wads spurted from his cut head, pouring down his own shaft as it bubbled up through his pipework, falling to the rich flooring with a soft plap plap sound.

The youth crouched down in front of his ex-boss and blinked. For the first time, she saw up close the intricate latticework of wiring and circuitry within them. The maniac really has wired himself in, she thought to herself. He's their queen. His eyes glowed green as he looked into her blue ones.

'You are nothing.' He said. 'Your stack of umbrella corps on top of umbrella corps will belong to me after we're done here tonight. The only reason I haven't taken them from you yet is because...' His lips cracked into a smirk. 'I want something else from you first.'

Thinking back, Melissa realised it might just have been the last free choice she would ever make, and while she wished she could have done something to change the outcome, she was glad her final independent act had been to spit in the bastard's face. He barely flinched, just stared her down before scooping a wad of her saliva from his cheek and placing it on his tongue.

'It was nice using your money to build this neuro-network, Melissa,' he said softly. 'Enjoy being a part of it.'

The impact was shocking. Before she could react, two slender, curving pipes had shot from the arms of the men gripping hers, emerging through the skin of their forearms and penetrating that of her own. Instantly she felt something foreign pumping into her veins, felt the sensation of something slightly warmer pouring in, an odd rushing feeling swarming up her arms until it surged into her body, a little like how one can feel an injection or IV bag. She began to panic, though she was determined not to show it, even as she felt something alien filling her body.

'Don't worry.' He said as he turned away from her, plugging something into her phone before discarding it on her desk. 'I'll be sure to leave your mind intact long enough for you to share this experience with me.'

As he stood before her desk, the ex-employee of Melissa Caple-Caddock, one a microbiologist and field technical research lead, reached for his trousers and quickly freed them, letting them fall to the floor. Melissa struggled, but could do nothing to break herself free from the men holding her hostage as the 21-year-old technical genius with a hive mind in his brain stripped naked before her. She tried to fight, tried to argue, tried to do anything - but all she could do as she stared at his emerging body was sink slowly to her knees, dismayed, distraught, and utterly defeated.

Only, Melissa hadn't been standing. No--as her kneecaps touched her soft carpet, she realised that she was being released--the grips on her arms loosening, letting her slide away. Now's my chance, she thought to herself as she slowly rose to her feet and approached the young genius. Now's my... Chance... What the fuck?

But Melissa Caple-Caddock did not leave. She didn't even attempt to escape. Because her body no longer belonged to her. No - even as the nano-network strung itself up throughout her body's systems, connecting to her nerves and muscles, wiring itself throughout her brain, merging into her very being - Melissa's freedom was long gone. And so, instead of obeying her free will, Melissa's body began to lift the shirt from her body, passing it over each arm and letting it fall to her own floor as she stepped slowly closer to the now naked boy lounging against the edge of her lavish oak desk. She reached behind herself, unlatched her bra, felt her breasts fall free as it tumbled beneath her feet, trampled and forgotten. She paused before him to bend, drawing her pants down and stepping from them and she closed the gap. By the time Melissa stood bare and exposed before her ex-employee, she was completely naked. Her mind screamed in anguished protest, but Melissa now stood stock still before the youngster.

'I always knew you had a body,' he said, looking shamelessly at her shape, 'but I didn't know a woman of your age could keep so pert. I assume these are fake.' He said, roughly pinching one breast. 'Hmm. Perhaps not. Then again, I'm sure a woman of your calibre could afford something far more advanced than most.' He kneaded the teat a little, moving it about in his hand. 'Ah. Really? Fat-grafting? Is that a viable enhancement now?' he said, pulling the information directly from Melissa's own mind. 'Genetically modified to ensure hormonal balance, using hormones and proteins to keep breasts more full and perky. Well, shit.' He strode slowly around the billionaire, eyeing her with his glowing green orbs. 'Nothing for the backside, I see - but then, why bother? This rump is only ever going to be seen in clothes that can hide the cellulite.' His fingertips brushed her right cheek, slipping over the apex of her crack. 'That, or spread around a special kind of man.' Melissa was forced helplessly to feel it as he gently cupped her ass, pulling her slightly open. She could feel the cool air on her most private areas, and knew that his gaze was lingering there too, the little perverted cock-sucking womanizing rapis-

'I think that's enough teasing.' Melissa's body stepped up to her desk and she laid herself across it, feeling her papers spreading beneath her chest as her body prepared itself for his use. 'What do you say, World's Richest and Most Influential Woman of our Time? Ovulating or not? No, I think it might cause too much of a scene if you were to be spied dashing to the all-night pharmacy for some morning after pills at this hour. Although--seeing you do it naked might just be entertaining enough...' Melissa stared down into the blurry pages of her outstanding paperwork, unable to resist as her body obeyed his mind, but fuming nonetheless. 'I think you could certainly stand to be a little more... Welcoming, however.' Instantly, Melissa felt a heady rush of arousal, her vagina rapidly dampening as he adjusted her very brain to generate her need. Despite her stupid little self, Melissa couldn't stop the primal, deeply-rooted nature of needy lust from affecting her as it filled her body. Hating him for it, part of her was overcome by the desire for him to cram his little brat cock into her cunt, her libido converting every sacred, non-sexual thought into a dirty, whorish one. 'Aah, that's better. Who needs lube when she just needs to want you, eh?'

She felt the hand on her ass first, felt it prying her slightly open. Aroused as she was, she wanted to lean into it, squeeze so that her body was both tighter and more open for him - but she couldn't even do that. Instead, she simply had to lie there, a captive inside her own skin as the boy genius placed his cock at her entrance and slowly pressed himself inside. It was torture in two ways now; part of her despised him, wanted to kick him away and beat his head in, and part of her wanted to split herself wide and force that damn pole right back to her uterus... And she could do neither.

Melissa's world sparkled as pleasure erupted from the penetration, even as her free will screamed in rage and hate. She couldn't even moan as the penis strummed her entranceway, rippling slowly deeper into her body until his warm skin met the base of her thighs. She could feel her breasts pressing into the desk she had toiled over for so long beneath her as she breathed, and in that moment, she hated him even for the lack of freedom to enjoy his perverted sexual usage of her, angry that she couldn't even moan or move into him. No - instead, Melissa sat in the back seat as her body slowly began to bump in time with his gentle thrusts.

It was as she was beginning to lose herself in the rhythm of his pumping that the two bodyguards appeared by her sides. Though no words had been spoken, Melissa knew why they were there. As they stepped up to her desk, she lifted herself up slightly, leaning forwards now rather than flat on her tabletop. Her hands reached out, and she took the two generous appendages in each hand as if she were riding a motorbike. Waiting for his next pump, she began to work each one in time with his penetration. It was a tough position to hold, but Melissa had been working out with an extremely personal, extremely private personal trainer six days a week since she had turned thirty, and was actually very muscular beneath her slender frame, her body shaped perfectly through a diet that had been sculpted down to the last calorie so as to appear thin and shapely, but not overfull in any areas, a consistent thin layer existing all the way around her shape. She could feel the muscles in her abdomen straining as she held herself up even as she bucked from his pumps in her wet cunt.

Melissa didn't know when it happened. Perhaps her brain was finally succumbing to his bio-tech hive mind; perhaps he was simply allowing her to fade away, or maybe she was just tumbling into a self-contained coma as her grip on her own neurons was wrenched from her. Whatever the reason - Melissa had only the tiniest sliver of presence left in her mind when she felt her pussy quivering around his cock. It took her a few moments to realise she was cumming around him, and as she did, she finally let herself go, feeling the hate and bliss and pain and disappointment fading away from her.

A second later, Melissa blinked, looking down into the skin of a woman as she pounded her from behind, watching the way her ass warped with each thrust of her cock. Confused, Melissa blinked - then, realised it with a horrifying lurch, even as the pleasure of her ejaculation filled her mind as completely as the semen filled the woman gripping her cock.

She had just moved into the boy's body. She had no idea how he had done it, but the hivemind network must have been so powerful that it could literally lift and shift a person's entire consciousness between bodies. That--or perhaps she was just being projected from her own mind into his. Whatever the case--it was as if she was him, occupying the body of a twenty-something man as he fucked a woman twice his age from behind.

She had to admit, she was pretty good, her pussy tight and satisfying around her--or, his? --cock, her ass shapely as it moved with each pump. She could feel her cock pulsing as she ejaculated into her own pussy, feel the way his balls jerked beneath her vagina, slapping against it wetly as he pumped her. Still unable to control even a tendon in either body, Melissa got an unwanted first-row seat of herself being creampied as he swapped himself into her body to feel the pleasure she did. Moments later, she was slipping away again, reality warping as the desk rematerialized in front of her, this time from side on. Just as she came to in this new body, her new cock--this time in Melissa's real left hand--tightened as it spurted a load of cum straight into Melissa's face. She flinched - internally, at least, still unable even to do that for real as she felt the big, burly Boris ejaculating onto her skin, desk and papers. Distantly, she recognised one of her legal disputes lying on the desk just alongside her real body's left arm just as a generous string of semen landed across it, nearly exactly from corner to corner, ruining the document and it's legally binding nature.

It was degrading, watching herself get used by three men from their points of view. No doubt that was how he wanted it to be. He probably wanted Melissa to see his total control over her and everything she owned--had owned--as he assumed her position in life. Again, the world faded away for a moment, and a second later, Melissa returned just in time to see the back of her own head as the third and final ejaculation began between her legs. This one was strong, and Jackson's cock throbbed as he spurted messily all over Melissa's cheek and tabletop. She saw it get in her hair, her ear, on her neck - three men's semen filling her up. If his goal had been to show her how totally he had her, then this had done it. She felt like any old woman, a street girl, a whore; a pretty little thing ideal for sticking your penis in, using her in all the various different ways a man could imagine, before discarding her like the unwanted baggage she was. She felt... Normal. Like nothing. Like less than normal nothingness.