Alice had made a mistake. She hadn't thought about the package that arrived at her door, that it was the tell tale size or that she hadn't been expecting a delivery. Someone had even wrapped it in Amazon packaging! By the time she even considered that it might be one of the collars going around, it was too late. The box was open. Laying there, without any paper or cushioning to hide it, was a leather band with a metal loop on the front. She quickly closed the flaps of the box. Hoping that she reacted quick enough. But she had heard horror stories from friends, about friends of friends who had received collars and by the time the box was open, it's influence was already deep seated inside of them.
It started off as vague murmurings, rumours. A mysterious collar going around that enslaved its women wearers that was whispered about in hushed tones. Everyone at her school dismissed the idea. Until women were seen walking around wearing them. Usually a small, flat metal band filled with electronics, although unassuming from the outside. She couldn't know how much of what she had heard was true, but the story was all the same. A medium size rectangular package showed up on some college girl's front door, likely sent from some perverted male student... or professor. The collar has some sort of receiver that sought out particular brainwaves and upon detection, released it's own frequencies to commandeer some desire portion of the brain. It made it's target want to put it on. Just to try it.
Alice secreted the closed box underneath her bed for safe keeping. As long as she didn't think about it she'd be safe. Right? As long as it stayed there. She had heard about women who had gone weeks after receiving the collar before putting it on. Luckily none of her housemates were home to see her receive the package. They'd likely pity her or tease her. All except Sophie. Alice and Sophie had always had a sort of teasingly sexual relationship. The relatively reserved Alice was always being made fun of for her timidness and she knew Sophie would have a field day. She would try and encourage her to put it on, try it just once. After that who knows, she would make Alice do something embarrassingly submissive. Like wear a mask costume and clean the house. Or serve drinks at their next party. And although Alice was hopeful she could resist the collar's effects, it scared her how turned on the idea of complete submission made her.
But just wearing it once wasn't enough, that wasn't the insidious part. After wearing it once you could try and take it off and succeed. No, it was that it enhanced orgasms, read the brainwaves released during them, and used those brainwaves to tap into the submissive part of the wearer. Some girls might make it five, six times before the collar has enough power over them to stop them from taking it off. Others... well most people would make it at least one orgasm before they fell victim. But apparently that one enhanced orgasm was enough, so powerful, mind altering in its intensity, that few women who had experienced it made it long before the collar took hold.
And the longer it was around your neck, the more control it took over the submissive part of the brain, forcing the user to listen to any command, any desire, any request. Alice had heard plenty of stories by now of strong fiery women seen meekly rubbing one out in the bathroom between classes. She had even seen her senior friend Trisha bouncing on some freshman's cock, cooing praise as he came inside of her. The collar bouncing right along with her weighty tits.
And as if that were bad enough, submitting and being bred by some scrawny underclassman, Alice had glanced at her collar long enough to see that it was leather. A rarer collar. She had seen only a few women with it on before but it's results were even more drastic. Petite flat chested women turned into busty, flared hip fertility goddesses. Docile, following around whoever would fuck them next. But most of all Alice has noticed their nipples. It was hard not to. They poked through their shirts like thumbtacks. Accompanied by a large wet spot from their copious lactation. The girls like this she had seen had all tried to hide it at first. The lactation. Multiple bras, different absorbent padding. They tried milking themselves in the sink before classes, shuddering with orgasm after orgasm. Chorus' of "moo"s rang out from the bathrooms with any passing cow girl drawn to the sound like moths to a flame. The sound itself made them lactate in sympathy.
One by one they all gave up. Bras abandoned, heavy, filled tits hanging free in their shirts. It was more convenient too. Whenever they felt particularly full, milk dripping down their taut stomachs, bursting with liquid, they'd sit on some studs lap and beg to be drained. Although there were only a few of them, the whimpers of a cow girl whimpering to be bred echoed through the occasional hall. Or if they still resisted the call of the collar, Alice had heard of cow girls giving handjobs while some nice guy nursed from her aching udders. She supposed that even with a sliver mental faculty, the urge to serve was still insistent.
Alice didn't even make it one night without masturbating to the thought of transforming into some sexed up lactating breeding slut. She knew it was wrong. That it would put her one step closer to trying the collar but she couldn't help it. The thought has been running through her head since receiving the package. And it wasn't like she just wasn't going to masturbate ever again.
As she approached the crest of her orgasm she paused, heart racing, out of breath. One peek wouldn't hurt. Just one little look at the collar. Just so her fantasy was more accurate before she finished. She reached under her bed and dragged out the box. It was so unassuming with the flaps closed. Just another Amazon package. But she knew what was inside and it set her arousal on fire. She opened the lid and caught her breath. She hadn't noticed before, with such a quick glance, but just above the metal ring was her name etched into the leather. "Alice" like a name tag. It... it was personalized. It belonged to her. It was perfect for her.
She tenderly removed the collar from the box, the promise of an enhanced orgasm ringing in her ears. She stared at the name. The ring. The clasp of the leather. She wanted it. Surely she wasn't so submissive that one orgasm would enslave her to the collar. Just one massive orgasm. So she could see what it was like. And then back in the packaging forever, thrown away, never to be laid hands on again. She had to know what it was like first. Before she even fully comprehend what she was doing the collar was fastened around her neck and she was masturbating frantically. Already so close to the edge. It didn't take long before she was cresting over, riding wave after wave of sparking, quivering sensation through her body. It was like roasting on an electric spit of intense terrifying sensation. Her whole body was on fire and all thoughts left her as her mind opened like a trap door to the invading flood of orgasm.
Alice had always had relatively small orgasms before. The instant this orgasm rolled through her she knew she was in trouble. She wouldn't be able to keep her promise to herself of throwing the collar away. But she did take it off, fling it into the box by her bed. At least she was safe for now. The one time wasn't enough... But she didn't know how many more she had in her before she was some milky, masturbating, breeding, busty, curvy thing she didn't recognize.
She woke up in a sweaty flush. She had dreamt of the collar, pinned to the bed while some faceless cock pumped its load into her and impregnated her fertile womb. Her boobs felt a little sore, swollen, surely the short amount of time she was wearing the collar hadn't already caused her to grow. She began pacing her small bedroom. What was she supposed to do. She couldn't wear it again, she knew she wouldn't be able to help herself. She would masturbate her autonomy away so quickly and recklessly. How many more orgasms like THAT did she have in her before she submitted to the cow collar? She thought about what her classmates would think if she showed up in a collar. If they would order her around or what the leering eyes of potent men would feel like, tracking her movement through the classroom, waiting for the chance to breed her. They would see the collar around her neck, know its power, the obedience it signified. Would she try to hide it? A tasteful turtleneck? No. She had seen the cow girls. It started like that, efforts to hide the collar, but they were always punished in some way by the student body once the collar was discovered.
Sometimes the reluctant student was caught by helplessly following an innocent command with too little reluctance. Male students would ask a girl to borrow a pencil, and if they were eager, ask to borrow more and more intimate items. After the pencil, they would ask to borrow their homework, then maybe to see their laptop, their phone, and although after that they could be relatively sure they had found one, a hidden collared girl, they would ask for their bra and panties. A victory token. Sometimes the hint of a bulge around the neck was too obvious and a fellow student would delight in the embarrassment they could incite. They took such joy in the knowledge that the collared girl had tried to hide it they find ways to publicly humiliate her. Those still trying to hide their collar usually hadn't worn it long enough to be truly submissive to any command, but their were commands that usually met with less resistance.
Removing bra and panties was humiliating to be sure, but could be done discreetly and usually getting a collared girl to do something to herself was easier. But the punishments had range, and once collared the latitude the collar had was extreme. Flashing in class. Self-milkings in class. Girls told to edge until the exact moment class ended, punctuating the professor's dismissal with cries of orgasm. Alice had heard that Samantha had successfully hid her collar for almost a week and a half while still going to classes. But she ended up being told to crawl between each student and beg them to let her give them head. She was used as an example, to discourage other girls from hiding the collar. She couldn't go five feet without being told to kneel and masturbate. Samantha started being banned from wearing anything too prudish. The baggy sweaters that had allowed her to hide the collar turned into minuscule tube tops that hugged her figure and panties. Most of the time when Alice did see her walking on campus she could see the bulge of the vibrator someone had ordered her to keep taped against her clit. She still tried to stumble from class to class, another order, but often had to stop and let another shaking orgasm roll through her.
Alice's thoughts were interrupted. In her absent minded pacing her foot had made contact with the collar's box. She wasn't even that horny it was more a desperation to feel that good again. To keep feeling that good. She gingerly took the collar out, staring at it as it turned between her fingers.
