Aren Duval

I might have figured out what made "Take Me to Church" so popular. Here's more of that same dynamic with new women. College girls. 18+. Might be right... who fuckin' knows? Positive response might get more Karen and Emily down the road.

Emily?

Oh, this girl thrives on the teasing. She loves the way her cheer captain looms over her, arms crossed under those heavy tits, smirking as she looks her up and down.

"Jesus, Emily, you call those breasts?" Captain Karen snickers, deliberately stretching her arms above her head, her massive tits straining against her cheer top. "I've seen bigger bumps on a speed limit sign."

Emily shivers, her thighs clenching beneath her pleated skirt. She lives for this.

"You sure you belong on this squad, pipsqueak?" Karen continues, walking a slow, predatory circle around her. "We're supposed to bring the bounce, and you've got nothing to work with."

Emily should be embarrassed. Humiliated. But instead, she feels heat bloom low in her stomach, shame twisting into something far more dangerous.

"Maybe I should get pom-poms that match your size," Karen muses, tapping a finger against her lip. "Like, itty-bitty, palm-sized, just for you."

Emily can barely breathe, cheeks burning. "M-maybe," she stammers, eyes darting to Karen's chest, to the weighty, impossible fullness that she'll never have.

Karen grins. She knows exactly what she's doing. "God, you love this, don't you?" She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "You love being the smallest, the flattest. Love it when I remind you what you don't have."

Emily's knees feel weak. She does love it. And Karen? Karen is going to ruin her.

Emily practically vibrates under Karen's scrutiny, her whole body screaming for more, more, more. She lives for the way her captain sizes her up like she's some pathetic little thing--not a real cheerleader, not with that flat, useless chest of hers.

Karen knows. She sees it.

"You're so easy," Karen muses, reaching out and flicking the tiny swell of Emily's chest through her uniform. It barely even moves. "Nothing here, babe. Just a couple of sad mosquito bites."

Emily's breath catches, her thighs pressing together. "M-maybe if I trained harder--"

Karen laughs. A sharp, biting thing. "Oh, sweetie. Training's not gonna fix this." She cups her own massive tits, giving them a heavy squeeze. "You could run ten miles a day, lift all the weights you want--you still wouldn't have anything worth looking at."

Emily melts. It's humiliating. It's delicious.

Karen tilts her head, watching the way Emily soaks it up, barely holding herself together. "God, you're sick," she murmurs, voice rich with amusement. "You love being the tiny, flat little nobody, don't you?"

Emily nods. She can't help it. She needs to hear more.

Karen smirks, tapping a finger under Emily's chin, forcing her to look up. "Beg me," she commands. "Beg me to keep making fun of you."

Emily's mouth is already open before she even thinks. "P-please," she gasps. "Please, Karen--tell me how small I am."

Karen grins like a wolf.

"Oh, babe," she purrs, reaching for her again. "You're pathetic."

Emily's whole body shudders at the command. Heat floods her, shame and anticipation twisting together in a perfect, aching knot. She swallows hard, looking up at Karen--at those massive tits practically spilling out of her uniform, at the smirk curling her lips.

Karen just waits, arms folded, confidence dripping from her like honey.

"You heard me," Karen says, tilting her head. "Strip. I want to see for myself just how pathetic you really are."

Emily's fingers tremble as they find the hem of her cheer top. It's like her whole body knows this is wrong, that she should be ashamed, embarrassed--but God, she wants it. Wants Karen's eyes on her, wants to be seen and mocked and put in her place.

Slowly, she peels her top over her head, her barely-there chest coming into view. No bra--because, really, what was the point? There was nothing to hold.

Karen's eyes light up.

"Holy shit," she breathes, stepping closer. "That's it? That's all you've got?"

Emily's breath hitches. She nods.

Karen whistles, low and appreciative in the worst possible way. "Jesus, Em, I've seen boys with more than this. You call those tits?" She reaches out, not even bothering to ask permission, running a fingertip over Emily's bare chest. "I bet you don't even jiggle when you jump, huh?"

Emily whimpers.

Karen grins.

"Oh, you're loving this, aren't you?" She drags her fingers lower, tracing down Emily's ribs. "God, you're flat. Just a tiny little thing, aren't you?" She steps even closer, her huge tits practically suffocating Emily, overwhelming her. "I could smother you with these."

Emily's knees nearly give out.

Karen just laughs. "Maybe I should."

Karen watches Emily tremble, watches her eat up every single taunt like it's the sweetest fucking thing she's ever heard. And Karen? She's a giver.

So she does it.

She grabs Emily by the shoulders and pulls her in, pressing her massive tits right up against that uselessly flat chest. Emily barely has time to gasp before Karen smothers her, tilting her head down and grinding those heavy, soft, impossible breasts right into her face.

"Mmph--!" Emily makes the tiniest, most pathetic noise against her cleavage, arms jerking at her sides like she doesn't know whether to resist or just sink in.

Karen grins.

"That's right, baby," she coos, holding Emily close, making sure those tiny, nothing tits are swallowed up by her own. "Bet you've never been this close to real tits before, huh?"

Emily whimpers, her breath hot and shaky against Karen's skin. She can't answer, not with her face pressed deep into cleavage so full it's practically a pillow.

Karen laughs.

"God, you're so small," she muses, rocking against her, letting those huge tits rub and smother and devour. "I bet you disappear in here, don't you? Just a tiny little thing, completely lost in all this."

Emily's knees buckle. She grips Karen's hips for balance, but Karen just holds her tighter, trapping her in that heavy, suffocating softness.

"You like it?" Karen murmurs, dragging her fingers through Emily's hair. "You like getting smothered by real tits, while yours are just... nothing?"

Emily can't even speak. Can't do anything except whimper against the overwhelming, suffocating warmth of Karen's body.

Karen smirks.

"Thought so."

Karen's smirk widens as she tilts Emily's chin up, forcing her to look at her--flushed, breathless, wrecked from nothing but a little teasing and some well-placed smothering.

"You're mine now," Karen declares, her voice smooth, dripping with satisfaction. "Lunch together. Dinner. Dancing. All mine."

Emily's mouth parts like she wants to protest, like she thinks she should have some say in this--but she doesn't. They both know it.

She nods. Small. Quiet. Owned.

Karen's fingers tighten on her jaw. "Say it."

Emily swallows hard, her throat working around the lump of heat and helpless surrender sitting there. "I-I'm yours," she whispers. "All yours."

Karen grins, all sharp teeth and pure, predatory delight.

"Damn right you are."

She leans in, pressing a slow, claiming kiss to Emily's lips--just enough pressure to remind her who owns her now, who decides things. And Emily? She melts into it. Of course she does. She was made for this.

Karen pulls back just enough to murmur against her mouth, "Now, be a good little girlfriend and carry my bag to class. That's what flat girls are for, right?"

Emily shudders, nodding before Karen even finishes speaking.

Karen just laughs.

God, she's going to have so much fun with this one.