"This looks stupid," Mirin said and pulled at her dress. She hadn't worn one since prom, ten years ago that night, but she chose it for that reason.
"Couldn't agree more," her mother said, glancing back and forth from the tv.
"Thanks, Mom," Mirin groaned. Anxiety swirled and coiled inside her guts, it turned her blood cold, even tamed her inexorable cock, which hung in a sling to keep it from swinging or bulging too far. Her dress was sold as an elegant, one-size fits all number, the elastic hidden beneath silk and cotton. No one made it with her physique in mind obviously. It was for the overweight or broad-shouldered, not a salacious futa.
"Don't know why you're going to this reunion thing anyway," Lorraine said, "I thought you hated school. No friends and all that."
"Yeah, and the bull semen dunked on me at prom," Mirin murmured, but masked it under the clinking of glass bottles as she stockpiled any beer she could. It would be a long night if things went to plan, short and hopefully painless if not. This was her chance at revenge, to claim it on the one who wronged her more than any other. Once she had Nora, she could enjoy her life without baggage.
A knock on the door stole her attention. She answered and was faced with Erin's beaming face, along with a fount of tit-flesh and flashes of her rounded gut. The outline of letters peeked out also. Mirin raised a brow.
"I'm getting more tattoos done. I want to make sure people know who I belong to. And whose baby I'm carrying," Erin explained, "I dressed as you wanted. No panties, short dress, and I even tied some vibrators to my pussy for you to play with." She handed over a remote, trembling.
"You're shaking," Mirin noted, gesturing her inside.
"Sorry, Mistress," Erin said under her breath, careful not to be so ostentatious around Lorraine, "It's been hard, not getting fucked by you this last week. I feel like I'll explode."
"You can just get yourself off," Mirin said.
"It's not the same without your cock. But you'll fuck me tonight, right? When we get this 'Nora' bitch."
"Perhaps. You'll enjoy yourself at least," Mirin said and cupped the former asexual's chin, devouring her whorish makeup. She chuckled, "Remember the plan?"
"Yes!" Erin nodded and pulled her bag around, revealing several jars filled with a murky, viscous fluid, "I've got your pre-cum right here. It was so hard not to take a bath in it, Mistress. Or drink every drop. Just the smell makes me so fucking horny."
"Look at you," Mirin snarled, a cruel grin on her lips as she gave a possessive grope, "Not long ago, you were like every stuck-up asexual. Now you're nothing but a mare in constant heat."
"I'm whatever you want me to be," Erin said and wriggled her ass, "And I bet you'd love it if I was even bigger than I am now. Pump me full of your sperm, Mistress, whenever and wherever you want. Breed me in public if you want. Oh fuck, I still remember feeling your cum writhing on my tongue."
"You felt it?" Mirin asked. That had been weeks ago, the day after she set up the class reunion, and her balls had felt increasingly packed by the day.
"Yes," Erin bobbed her head, "Is that weird?"
"No," Mirin giggled and palmed her balls through the dress, "It's perfect." If that was true, then what she read about sperm didn't apply to her. It didn't matter how many sperm there were, it shouldn't be possible to feel them, unless they were several times larger. Perhaps that meant something, though it didn't change any of her plans. The fecund orbs churned against her touch.
Mirin had been preparing for this night. She abstained from sex, kept her releases to a bare minimum, enough that she didn't feel fit to burst, and prevent her bitches from going mad. Brianne had broken their bet after the first day. She'd been absent from work for the past week, recovering from surgery. When she returned, she'd be famished for cum. Mirin snickered as she left the flat, plotting out the hours of breeding Brianne would need.
Before that, she had Nora Riley's womb to bloat with seed. That cow deserved far more than Erin, Brianne or Susan combined. Mirin had hope dangled before her, dragged along for weeks on end, and then the veil pulled from her eyes, replaced by a wash of semen. The reek still lingered in her nostrils.
As a teen, that girl had been one of the few that ignored her. Nora hadn't joined the mocking, nor had she so much as looked at Mirin, however that was more than anyone else. It crafted a crush, one she thought was reciprocated in stupid naivety. Enraged lust replaced her frayed nerves. Before the night was done, she'd see Nora prostrate, bloated and begging for her semen.
The reunion was in place before they arrived. Sparkling confetti lined the entrance hall, an old arch from prom with a thrown-together sign that read 'welcome back alumni', written in comic sans of all things. Chipped paint led into the auditorium. Stragglers lingered in the hallways, phones in hand and mouths frozen mid-sentence as Mirin and Erin passed by. None expected her to show up, let alone with company.
Mutters jump started seconds later. The typical things; 'who invited her?' and 'what the fuck happened to that other girl?' interspersed with 'that dress doesn't suit her at all'. Mirin ignored the harsher language. Growing up bullied in Ireland meant curse words were nothing, just a part of everyday life. It was the sentiment that echoed in her veins.
In the main hall, everyone was talking over thumping music. A table of party favours was pushed to a wall, with tables and chairs hastily set out around a dance floor. The stage was lit up, a local DJ doing their best not to suck, beside whom was an ornate chair for the prom queen. It was just that night remade with a couple additions. For instance, the alcoholic punch bowl.
"Right, you know what to do," Mirin said and headed for it, taking Erin's bag with her. The plan was simple really, though she had needed several days of testing to guarantee its success. Mix a large dose of pre-cum into the beverages. Her pheromones were dampened by the many other scents in the wide space, so she couldn't rely on those. This was faster regardless. She just needed a distraction.
"What the fuck?!"
Mirin glanced back to see Erin's choice of misdirection. She couldn't help a grin as the slut bowed in a primitive squat, skirt flipped up to reveal her puffy cunt, which swallowed a hand with ease. It squelched and slurped, forming a puddle beneath her as she moaned above the music. Her mouth fell open and her eyes rolled, not a hint of higher intelligence held there. Mirin chuckled and turned on the vibrators.
Not an eye was off her, except Mirin's as she poured jar after jar into the massive bowl of punch. People might notice the added thickness, but not enough had already sampled it. Besides, all that mattered was Nora.
She stood a little ways off. No drink in hand, but staring in confused disgust as Erin cried in orgasm, before she scampered off to an unused room before anyone could call security. Nora shook her head, immense ponytail trailing behind her. Since school, she'd grown into her once gangly height, with muscles defined against her flesh. She sported a different type of curve to Mirin's, which were stacks of sensuous fat. These were arches of strength.
And yet, Mirin wondered who was stronger. From what she remembered, Nora had been competitive, eager to prove any challenger to her prowess wrong. Her social media claimed she was taking part in strength contests, alongside gymnastics on the side. For the plan to work, Nora needed to be parched.
"Hey," Mirin said after taking a glug from her own drink. The stuff was cheap and bitter, but stronger than anything they'd serve there.
Nora looked about at first, then her eyes fell on the black sheep, "Oh, hey."
"How are you?" Mirin asked.
"Good. That was... interesting," Nora said, grey eyes following the trail of pussy slime Erin left behind.
"Tell me about it. Bet you all thought I'd be the one doing that," Mirin chuckled.
"Yes. I mean, no. Sorry, it's hard to, uh, ignore," Nora tried keeping a neutral tone, yet her disdain for Mirin's body slithered through, "So, uh, how's life?"
"Shitty, but you knew that," Mirin said.
"I didn't. That's why I asked."
"Oh, right," Mirin forced nonchalance into her voice, however anger crawled in her veins, "You look stronger. Really filled out."
"Yeah, lots of training. Maybe if you headed to the gym once in a while, you'd look better."
"I don't know. I wouldn't want to give the bobybuilders a complex about me."
"What do you mean?" Nora asked, a snide grin coming to her face, "You're soft as shit."
"Yeah, but I'd bet I'm stronger than some skinny bitch like you," Mirin said.
"You're on."
"Arm wrestle," Mirin led her to a table, one she'd already set a few plastic cups on. As the superior gender, she wouldn't lose. She could not fail against some meek asexual slut-to-be. Nora's smirk tried telling the same story, yet hers appeared forced, a contrivance meant to scare. It told another story to Mirin. False bravado.
Their hands clasped. Hers felt warm, a touch clammy, compared to Mirin's calm rage. The futa squeezed, tight enough to startle Nora, but no further, and the match began. It dragged on at Mirin's insistence. Her target tried, she almost got the better of her a few times, yet nothing worked. Minutes passed and sweat populated Nora's tanned flesh. Something else smouldered in her eyes as the match went on. Her gaze trickled away from Mirin's eyes, glancing at her cleavage like it suddenly wasn't an affront to humanity.
