The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In the dimly-lit back office of Champion Games, Phoenix hunched over her laptop, flicking back and forth between the sales reports for the past seven days, and the weekly inventory order spreadsheet. She made sure not to overlook any meat-and-potatoes, high-turnover items. Magic booster boxes. Chessex dice. Restocks of the hottest-selling board games. The new Warhammer releases that Games Workshop, those monopolistic assholes, expected the store to order to maintain their stockist status. Only then did she allow herself to poke around at more interesting aspects of game store curation—small-press comics, innovative new story RPGs, feminist Kickstarter gaming projects with promising Retailer tiers.

Phoenix would have preferred to do this in a more tactile way, as she’d used to: a half-dozen printouts spread over the desk, with notes scribbled on scratch paper and sticky notes that she’d accumulated over the week. But when the old office printer had gone on the fritz, Andi had insisted that they try to do without it and save the costs of paper and ink. And incidentally, produce a final document that anyone other than Phoenix could understand.

The two partners’ desks faced each other across the room, and presented quite the contrast. Andi’s desk was practically empty save for an old desktop and a few choice stationary supplies. Phoenix’s was covered with magazines, half-finished painting projects, and a not-inconsiderable number of Funko Pop! figures. (Princess Elsa. Alex Vause. General Leia. Michael Scott.)

Sprite, one of Phoenix’s employees, stuck their head into the office. “Hey, Phoenix? There’s someone interested in renting the event space for a day? Do you have a moment to show him around?”

“Be right there,” Phoenix responded, and Sprite popped back out.

Phoenix uncoiled her body and stood, stretching and working the kinks from her neck. Pale and curvy, her short hair was bleach-blonde marked with dark purple streaks. Although she was dressed professionally in the green and black store uniform, the metal rings piercing her lips and right nostril, matching helix and rook ear piercings, and the hint of elaborate floral tattoo barely visible on her clavicle (not to mention the variety of smaller ones all across her arms), indicated that this was a woman who was more comfortable in a leather jacket. Gaydars went off within a mile radius when she so much as raised an eyebrow. (The eyebrow was also pierced.)

A possible space rental was a distraction, but a welcome one. Andi might have more energy to deal with the nitty-gritty of running a business, but this was more Phoenix’s area of expertise. She took a quick breath to compose herself, then stepped out, ready to schmooze with the community, rent some spaces, and help make gaming magic happen. What a great job—and she was her own boss, too, more or less. If life was a game, then Phoenix was truly winning it.

“Sorry, who’s organizing this event?“

“The Counterfactual Historical Wargaming Society. You know, that gaming club that’s like four blocks away? Haven’t you heard some of the 40k players at the store mention it?”

“I take great personal pride in never talking to 40k players.”

Phoenix and Andi (an Americanized shortening of Chandi) were facing opposite each other on their long couch in their living room (a space that seemed smaller than it was because every wall was fronted by a bookshelf, every inch of which were filled with books, graphic novels, neatly-arranged magazine collections, and any number of colorful board game boxes) while they talked over the events of the day. Andi had worked from home, so there was quite a bit to catch up on.

Andi was darker than Phoenix, her hair straight, black, and cropped diagonally. She was thin, her facial features almost as sharp as the palpable intelligence that gleamed from her yes. She was quite beautiful in a statuesque way, but unlike her partner, there was nothing on her body that jiggled or bounced.

She had fulfilled the expectations of her thoroughly Indian-American upbringing sufficiently to earn a Master’s in Business istration, but not quite enough to turn it to socially-respectable ends. Or to produce precious babies with a nice Telugu man.

“Well, apparently one of their yearly events is a small-scale gaming con for their community. Lots of little one-shots and tournaments and stuff. They usually do it in their own space but the guy said they’ve had a bit of a hip boom and need a bigger venue.”

Andi raised an eyebrow, not looking up from the small laptop she was currently multi-tasking on. “If they’re so popular, how come I’ve never heard of them before?”

Phoenix shrugged. “I dunno, seems like they kind of keep to themselves. The thing is, they want to rent all the available gaming spaces. Starting at, uh, 2:00 am.“

This was enough to pull Andi’s attention from her screen. “What? Why?“

“I guess they want to do an opening ceremony in the middle of the night?” Phoenix almost laughed, the situation was so odd. “Apparently they always do one before a big event. Kind of like a prayer for success, sort of thing.”

“Is this a religious deal? Are they Wiccan or something?” Andi had rubbed up against such communities (and some attractive of those communities) in her life, though she was herself too practical to embrace any form of magical thinking.

“The guy wasn’t too clear, but I don’t think so—more like a weird masonic tradition? Kind of fits, since apparently they were started up by older white guys in the 60s.” Her eyes drifted off in remembrance. “My grandfather was a member of the Order of Quetzalcoatl; they organized his funeral.”

“Well, if they want to wear fezzes and... do whatever, let them do it off-site,” said Andi, whose only frame of reference for that a lodge was the Stonecutters episode of the Simpsons. “Sounds sketchy to me.”

“C’mon, it’s part of our official mission statement to welcome people of different cultural practices. And it’s kind of a deal-breaker for them. And, uh, the other thing is, they offered to pay rental fees for the whole day. As in, twenty-four hours worth.”

“For ALL the rentable spaces?” Andi did a quick mental calculation and saw dollar signs. She shook her head slightly in surrender. “Fine. Maybe they’ll blow through their budget, lose their own space, and start spending more time at our store. So who gets to open up for them at the witching hour?”

Phoenix’s expression turned bashful. “Welll...” she began, pulling her leg back to reposition her foot in the cleft between Andi’s well-fitted black pants. “You know I have a hard time waking up early... So maybe...?” Her shapely toes ground against Andi’s crotch with confident pressure born of long familiarity.

Andi sighed in a combination of pleasure and resignation. “Maybe if you make a good argument, I’ll consider it.”

Phoenix didn’t need to be asked twice. She practically rolled off the couch and positioned herself on the carpet. Andi allowed her lover to seductively work her pants down her legs, over her ankles, revealing her toned, smooth brown legs. If they had tried this in reverse, it would have been some work to get the waist of the garment over Phoenix’s rump, which was just as prominent as her largish, shapely bust (the cleavage of which was also on display through the dangling top of Phoenix’s loose t-shirt). Phoenix wiggled that ass seductively as she pulled the crotch of Andi’s red panties to the side and briefly ired the clean, demure, well-maintained privates underneath. Soon, her face was buried down there, her tongue eagerly flicking and stroking Andi’s delicate pleasure nib.

Andi smiled and spread her legs wider, but twisted her torso slightly to return to her work, laptop balanced on the arm of the couch.

“Aren’t you going to close your computer?” Phoenix asked, her voice slightly muffled.

“Oh, did you start already?” Andi asked casually. “I hadn’t noticed.” In response, Phoenix redoubled her efforts, suckling and licking like a champ, her right middle finger probing the inside of Andi’s moistening pussy entrance.

This was a scenario that had played out before, and had certain expectations attached. Since Phoenix was the one beseeching the favor, Andi was free to accept the undivided sexual attention without asking or worrying about her partner’s pleasure. She enjoyed indulging in that selfishness. She doubted that eager, devoted Phoenix would have been so standoffish if the situations were reversed, but they would probably never find out, because she never asked Phoenix for favors.

Soon Phoenix’s efforts bore fruit, at least inasmuch as Andi was forced to close her laptop and set it aside. Hands now free, she lay down on the length of the couch. Andi grabbed the back of Phoenix’s short-cropped hair roughly with one hand and forced her down between her legs. It wasn’t necessary—or, indeed, helpful, since it mildly restricted Phoenix’s range of motion. But that wasn’t the point.

Phoenix’s hand stroked up the side of Andi’s slim waist and reached under her bra to stroke the dark nipple on one of her small pointy breasts, then the other. Andi allowed it for a time, then pushed Phoenix’s well-tattooed arm away and returned the favor, stretching her arm to the easy target of Phoenix’s own chest. By this point Phoenix was steadily plumbing the depths of Andi’s pussy, finger curved upward to hit the familiar location of her g-spot. Andi experimentally mauled Phoenix’s tits and pulled at her nipples just to see if she could break her focus, but other than an indignant moan, she couldn’t be deterred from her task.

Andi allowed herself to come with a shudder, but held Phoenix’s head in place for a while longer. She wasn’t really going for a follow-up orgasm, she was simply enjoying the come-down.

Eventually Andi pushed Phoenix away, rearranging her panties with a sigh. “Alright, I suppose I can cover the nighttime opening,” she conceded.

Phoenix grinned at her, lower face sticky. “I can be convincing when I want to be, right?”

“It’s one of your greatest talents.”

A couple months later, Andi was regretting having allowed herself to be seduced as she stood out in the cool nighttime air to unlock Champion Games’ doors. The steaming cup of black coffee in her hand was the only minor recompense for the loss of sleep.

She had only just finished unlocking the door when she heard footsteps coming up behind her. She turned.

Some small, attractive women would have experienced a jolt of panic at the sudden appearance of a huge man looming over her in the dead of night. Andi, however, was not easily fazed, and was armed at all times with a can of mace in her purse and Occam’s Razor in her head.

“Might you be Cliff?” she asked calmly. Communications and planning had all gone through Phoenix so far, but Andi thought she’d seen this guy at the store before. He was tall and probably in his 50s, with a well-groomed salt-and-pepper beard and a thick, strong build. The breed of dork who you’d see at a Ren Faire or SCA event, wearing a historically-accurate suit of chainmail that weighed 50 pounds. He was currently carrying a large duffel bag over his broad shoulder.

“Indeed I am,” he answered. “And you would be Ms. Sunkara.”

“I would.”

“I’m delighted to have the chance to finally meet you,” Cliff said with a wide, friendly smile. “I haven’t been by the store much lately, but I used to come a lot back when Dan owned the place. There used to be shelves and shelves of old gaming books and stuff—you could sometimes find some real treasures for a steal.“

Andi nodded neutrally. Business practices like that were why Dan had needed to sell the store. “You’re a bit early,” she commented.

“I pride myself on my punctuality.”

Andi could respect that. “Well, let’s get inside and turn the lights on.”

They opened the doors and entered the main floor; an expansive, high-ceilinged room containing shelves of product; glass cases and cashiers along one wall displaying the premier TCG product (and blocking access to the shopliftable unopened packs); and a large game space with rows of tables and chairs. From there you could see into the pub space, a secondary gaming area where they were also licensed to sell session beers and ciders in the evenings to their 21-and-older clientele. Phoenix had pushed for that addition, though Andi had been the one to sort out the paperwork for the liquor license.

Given the hour, Andi was not feeling particularly talkative, but Cliff was practically buzzing with good humor and dragged her along into the conversation. She learned that he lived in the area and had simply walked over, but that the rest of his group would be arriving shortly individually or by carpools. He asked if Andi would be there at the store for the CHWS’s event later that day, and Andi confirmed that she would—pushing through the day and then crashing was more appealing than throwing off her sleep cycle with a nap.

“And just to confirm, this ceremony you’re doing doesn’t involve any blood or other bodily fluids?” Andi asked dryly.

“No blood,” Cliff assured, raising three fingers in a Boy Scout’s oath. “And I promise we’ll keep everything else off the carpets.” He laughed. Andi forced a brief smile. She didn’t find the joke funny, but their cleaning deposit had been paid in full, so.

The other men arrived shortly—and they were indeed all men, a disappointment to Andi, who had hoped there might be someone in the club worth talking to. Nevertheless, she absorbed their names with steely professionalism and firm handshakes. Bryan. Isaac. Johan.

They all seemed in a distinctly sour mood. At first Andi figured that it was just grumpiness over the ungodly hour, but while introducing herself to Trevor Mason (the last member of the group, a businesslike black man who more than matched Andi’s own handshake grip) she overheard a snatch of Johan complaining to Cliff, something about “can’t believe you fucking told them” ...at which point Cliff cut him off.

“Ms. Sunkara is a very open-minded person, and I’m sure we’ll all be the best of friends by the end of the day,” he said firmly. Johan seemed to drop it, but didn’t look happy.

So that was it. These guys were embarrassed that Cliff had told outsiders about their ridiculous little boys-club ritual, and they were afraid that she was looking down at them for it. In which case, they were correct—she absolutely was. Luckily, her poker face was immaculate.

Andi escorted them through the pub area up the stairs to the general-use room on the second floor. It opened into various small private game rooms, but they had requested an open space for the occasion. Andi helped them pile the folding tables and chairs against the walls. Noticing that the men had fallen quiet and were glancing pointedly and uncomfortably toward the still-closed duffel bag, she then politely recused herself, explaining that she would be in her personal office until they were done.

Andi descended the stairs at a deliberately sedate pace, hoping to overhear a little about the group’s mysterious (and surely insane and embarrassing) opening ceremony. She heard a snatch from Mr. Mason, his voice raised with emphasis: “...SURE this’ll work?” and the start of a response from Cliff, who was not the whispering sort: “I’m pretty sure, Trevor; I’ve double-checked the charts, and besides, we’re only half a mile away from the...” But she didn’t dare dawdle too long on the stairs, which could be looked down easily from the room above. Cost-benefit analysis said that satisfying her curiosity wasn’t worth the risk of alienating well-paying customers.

Down in her ground-floor office, Andi laid out her work laptop, then stared at it without folding it open. She didn’t feel particularly inspired to work.

She occupied herself for a time by listening to the heavily-dampened sounds that occasionally crept down to her ears through the ceiling. Something rhythmic, either stomping or deep percussion, seemed to be occurring. Voices were raised, and although she couldn’t make out single word, there seemed to be something rhythmic about them as well. A strong beat; in a strange way, primal. Her mind drifted to her lover, Phoenix; touching for a moment on her charming smile and bright eyes before mentally descending downward to her pale, quivering breasts and then down to her shapely legs, spread wide open as a phallus slammed into her again and again, stretching her cunt open hard and undeniably, and Phoenix’s loving smile turned to uncontrolled moans of pleasure or pain, her body a playground for another’s pleasure, mind entirely given over to the pounding, pounding...

“All done,” came Cliff’s cheerful voice from the doorway, where he was standing politely.

Andi jerked her head up with a start. “What? Already?”

“Well, it’s been more than two hours.”

Hours? Andi checked the time. Almost 5:00. How strange. Had she been asleep? She would have thought that a nap would have been impossible with the amount of caffeine coursing through her system, but perhaps her tolerance was getting higher.

As she stood, she noticed that she was wet; very wet. For an instant she panicked that she’d unexpectedly started her period early, but no. It must have just been the sex dream—uncharacteristic of her, but the effects were inarguable. Even her clit was as hard as a rock, practically throbbing with blood as it demanded that someone gratify it posthaste.

Meanwhile, Cliff was explaining that they were going to start bringing in some more materials and setting up for the day’s events.

Andi forced a smile, making sure to show no signs of her physical discomfort. “Just let me swing by the restroom and I’ll come help you out.”

She could tell it was going to be a long day.

Phoenix’s day, in contrast, got off to a great start. She woke up naturally, late-morning light streaming in through the window, sprawled out on her back atop their spacious queen-sized bed. With Andi out at the store, there had been nobody to wake her up at a responsible hour, nor to shove her back to her designated side of the mattress.

On the other hand, there was also nobody to ire to way the light played over her shapely body. Her skimpy sleeping tank top and shorts were askew, revealing more of her body tattoos that extended all the way to the base of her quite respectable breasts—their paleness making them stand out all the more against their floral surroundings. Life was full of trade-offs.

When she finally roused herself, Phoenix was then free to perform her morning toilette (including the reinsertion of several piercings that she couldn’t sleep in), apply some nice makeup (not a major interest of hers, but she liked the semi-gothic effect of dark lipstick and some winged eyeliner), eat a hearty brunch, and generally brace herself for the day before setting out for Champion Games. Both she and Andi didn’t necessarily go in to the store every day, but sometimes it was helpful to have both decision-makers on-site, and they had promised the CHWS that they would both be there to help out with their con. She texted Andi that she was on her way and received a clock emoji in return. If Phoenix didn’t set her own hours, she would have been very late.

By the time she got to the store it was close to noon. She stopped inside the entrance, nodded to her employee Seb who was arranging a display near the door, and scanned the place. Fairly normal-looking traffic among the shelves. They had some middle-school kids playing Pokemon or Magic off to one side of the tables; the other half of the game space, in front of the pub area, had been moved aside slightly and roped off with a few stanchions. The con-reserved tables beyond were moderately busy, with more than a few games clearly happening even early in the day.

At the front of the demarcated event space, there was a large display sign with the simple name “Countercon” and some kind of heavily over-designed logo that showed the acronym “CHWS” surrounded by a complex symbol that looked like a cross between a mandala and a children’s maze. Next to it was a registration table, where two young women were busy checking in a couple of new arrivals.

Phoenix swung by one of the s to ask Sprite how things were going (“A little busy? Mostly selling snacks?” were her replies; like a Jeopardy contestant, Sprite tended to answer in the form of a question), then set off to do a walkabout of the store and see what Andi was up to.

“Excuse me!”

Phoenix turned to the source of the voice, which was indeed directed at her. The left-hand registration desk attendant, temporarily free, was waving her down. Phoenix gamely turned herself in that direction.

“Might you be the manager, Ms., um, Phoenix?” asked the girl.

“Yes, I am. And are you, uh... dressed as... Captain Marvel?”

‘Half-dressed’ might have been more accurate. On closer inspection, the slim college-aged brunette at the table was certainly in costume, but it took a moment for Phoenix to mentally fill in the literal gaps. The upper red portions of the costume that normally covered the shoulders and clavicle were completely absent, meaning the whole thing was held on with a series of golden straps and a rather thin vertical blue strip of fabric that attached to a tight collar around her neck. Not to mention that the décolletage had been pushed to the limits of modestly or slightly beyond. The lanyarded nametag hanging between her breasts read ‘Kylie.’

Phoenix was not unfamiliar with the concept of ‘booth babes,’ and although she disapproved of it as a business practice, she couldn’t deny that this girl was easy on the sapphic eye. Phoenix tried not to dwell too long on extrapolating the curvature of the girl’s taut breasts based on their rather exposed top halves.

“Yeah! I’m soooo glad you can recognize it! This costume needed a lot of fixing after our last Halloween event, but I managed to get the straps mostly sewn back up. They’ll tear much more easily if they get pulled on again, but that’s just as well, really!”

Not a cosplayer herself, Phoenix only half-listened, nodding and smiling like one did when a customer was enthusing about a special interest that you did not share. In her line of work, she got a lot of practice with that. “So, is there something I can help you with?”

“Oh! I’m sorry! I’m such a dumb c...oncierge!” Kylie stumbled over the last word. Phoenix was a bit taken aback by the sudden self-deprecation, but before she could murmur reassurances the girl had already pepped back up. “Maddie is trying to teach me—she has lots of secretarial experience.” Kylie indicated the equally-cute black girl to her left, who was busy with another arrival. “Anyway, we have a badge for you.” She pulled a sticky note off a plastic badge holder dangling from a black lanyard, and thrust it toward Phoenix. “On the house!”

Phoenix looked amused. Technically, she WAS the house. “That’s a nice gesture, but really not necessary. I’m store staff.” Still, she glanced over the badge: fairly plain but cleanly printed, with “Countercon,” her name, and “female” displayed down the line on the left side, opposite a smaller version of the same ugly logo that was on the sign. She gave them a mental thumbs-up for including her gender, though listing pronouns would have been better for nonbinary participants.

“Cliff said that...” Kylie furrowed her brow and consulted the sticky note in her gloved hand. “’He thanks you for being accommodating toward our event’s needs, and he hopes you’ll find some time during the day to in on the fun.’”

“Well, I’ll be sure to thank him when I see him.” Hesitating only a moment, Phoenix slipped the lanyard over her head... why not... and continued her exploration.

A large board for events was standing next to the pub area entryway, and Phoenix stopped to scan it. Rows of printed sheets with brief descriptions of events, what time and in what space they would occur, and a variable number of slots for people to write their names. More or less as Cliff had described: one-shot RPG sessions, some board games, and a few tournaments for TCGs or relatively small-scale miniature games like... Infinity: CodeOne? In the pub space? With 12 players!?

Infinity was a European sci-fi skirmish game that Phoenix liked, and she’d been personally trying to get organized play off the ground in their store for years. Stepping into the pub space, she confirmed that its rows of tables were currently evenly split between Infinity and Blood Bowl Sevens events, with a single table with a “Rest Area” sign at the back. (Phoenix took a moment to glare at Frank, an occasional Infinity mini purchaser whom she had personally rung up last month, at which time he had politely denied any interest in actually playing the game, demurring that he just appreciated the sculpts. He was busy maneuvering himself to check line-of-sight of one of his submachine gun-armed space cops.)

ing through and up the stairs, Phoenix’s annoyance gradually changed into something closer to astonishment. It wasn’t just that these people had a thriving (albeit insular) gaming community going. It was... well. Phoenix knew many of the gamers in the area at least vaguely by sight: even bargain-seekers or Oldhammer nerds who mostly bought gaming goods online had occasion now and again to pick up something at Champion (the largest game store in the city by a significant margin).

But there were a lot of new faces here. And a lot of them were women. Fairly young, vibrant women who seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Peering intently around, Phoenix could see that some of them must be here with their boyfriends... that was clear from the occasional giggled feminine whisper in a guy’s ear, male hand exploring the bare leg of a female neighbor, or game spectator pressing her chest into a man’s back as she peered over his shoulder from behind. But still... was this gender equity she was seeing? At a gaming event? If not, it was very close.

She and Andi’s best efforts at creating a female-friendly gaming space had never resulted in anything like this.

Phoenix found Andi at the far end of the second floor main room (currently a board game zone), helping the club’s balding Events Coordinator work out some kind of last-minute space issue that required an extra table.

“Good morning,” Andi greeted Phoenix with a raised eyebrow, once her business was concluded. Phoenix shrugged off the implied jab at her punctuality and pulled her partner aside.

“Andi,” she said quietly, “Are you seeing this crowd?” She glanced over her shoulder, feeling almost furtive. Her eye fell on a beautiful young woman dolled up in full gothic lolita regalia, calmly playing a round of Munchkin alongside a thin, greasy-looking guy in a stained t-shirt. She shook her head in disbelief.

Andi frowned. “I know,” she replied, voice equally hushed. “It’s weird, honestly. There aren’t even any women on their board, and at least one of the men seemed like a real creep. Are they a bunch of ringers? Did these guys empty out an escort service for dates?” The two of them started heading back downstairs.

“Andi,” Phoenix onished her, smiling despite herself at her partner’s characteristic directness. “Are you implying that women can’t enjoy gaming?”

“I’m just saying that if this was the crowd at the gaming club in college, my body count would be through the roof. Both in D&D and real life.” Andi stopped behind the bar counter on the first floor (still defunct until the evening) and looked out over the event, drumming her fingers.

“They gave you a badge too, right?” she asked suddenly, glancing over at Phoenix’s lanyard.

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t seem quite appropriate to participate, though.”

“Go ahead,” Andi said firmly. “I’ll look after the rest of the store. You play some games, mingle, make friends. Try to find out what their deal is. One way or another, we’ve got to tap into this market.” The issue settled, she started to turn to leave.

“Wait, uh. Andi?” Phoenix asked. Andi turned her perfectly-chiseled head back, eyebrows slightly furrowed in annoyance at the conversation continuing. “Are you sure? You don’t think you’ll need me on hand for store stuff?”

Andi smiled thinly. “No, Phoenix, I think I can continue to handle things on my own.”

Well, that felt kind of rude, Phoenix thought, as Andi departed. But then again, she had been awake for half a day already, and Phoenix had sort of left her hanging, letting her do all the hard work and heavy lifting. A sense of guilt began to stir inside her. She resolved to fulfill her assignment to the best of her ability. (And if that assignment happened to be to play tabletop games and socialize with attractive gamer girls, well, that hadn’t been her idea.)

Phoenix returned to the board and scanned it for an appropriate game. A round of Sushi Go! in a half-hour time slot was starting very shortly, which seemed like a good way to dip her toes in. She took the last slot with one of the nearby hanging pens, and ambled off to designated site in the roped-off main floor play area.

Another woman was already sitting at the table, fiddling on her phone. Phoenix felt an instant kinship with her based entirely on her eminently practical clothes: loose jeans with actual pockets, full-coverage band t-shirt. Just the sort of casual thing Phoenix would wear, if she wasn’t in store uniform; and it stood in contrast to the other women at the event, most of whom seemed to be fully getting into the spirit of the warm summer weather outside. The androgynous attire couldn’t hide the beauty of the woman underneath, though: she was tall, with shoulder-length honey blonde hair, an upturned nose over full lips, and a model’s slender figure. Her smooth skin glowed with the bloom of youth.

Phoenix, ever gregarious, was not put off by the woman’s distracted demeanor, and slid into a seat right next to her.

“Hi. You here for Sushi Go! too?”

“Yeah,” the girl conceded, not looking up from her phone.

“My name’s Phoenix. I’m one of the store managers.”

Her conversational partner oriented her name-tag towards Phoenix. ‘Paige,’ it read, and she was indeed a ‘Woman’ as she presented.

“Do you... come to CHWS events often?” Phoenix asked, trying not to make it sound too much like a pick-up line.

Paige rolled her eyes. “I’m just here because of my dad. He’s been dragging me along to these kinds of things for ages. He’s in a tournament right now, but wanted me to keep him company in a one-shot and stuff later.”

“Not a huge fan of gaming?”

Paige shrugged. “It’s okay,” she said. “Not really my thing. I’m a lesbian.”

“So am I,” Phoenix encouraged. “Games are for everyone.”

“I guess.” She sighed. “I’m just looking for some independence, you know? We’re having this fight about me wanting to go to college...”

These were clearly deep waters, and since Phoenix had cut her own family out of her life with a middle finger at age 18, she did not feel qualified to navigate them. She was spared from awkwardness by the arrival of the other three players: a slightly homely young man named Eric, who was organizing the game; Sumiko, a cute, glasses-wearing girl who was showing off her slender curves to best advantage in a well-fitted one-shoulder tank top; and a third guy so unassuming that Phoenix immediately forgot his name. Eric thanked them for coming, and they got started in short order.

Sushi Go! was a casual but staple card drafting game that Phoenix was familiar with. (It sold well to families and Japanophiles, and had good turnover.) Neither Paige nor the other guy had ever played before, so while Eric was explaining the rules to them, Phoenix was able to engage in some market research by chatting up Sumiko, who was luckily seated next to her. Apparently she was a college classmate of Eric who had started ing him in events.

“Do you like this kind of game?” Phoenix asked her.

“Oh, this is one of my favorites,” Sumiko answered shyly. “It’s simple enough for me to play. I don’t even try to win, I just take the card I think is cutest.”

“Uh...” As a board game nerd, Phoenix had a hard time relating to THAT level of casual play. She tried not to judge; as she’d said, games were for everyone to enjoy. “So... you play games to relax?”

“Yeah,” Sumiko replied. “At these things, I don’t have to worry about anything. I just go with the flow.”

Speaking of the flow, the game started, and Phoenix was soon focused on drafting: sniping squid nigiri, avoiding pudding, and weighing how heavily to invest in maki.

“This is making me want sushi for dinner,” suggested Eric. ”Nyotaimori?” At which he, the other guy, and Sumiko laughed.

That term referred to the reputed practice of eating sushi off of a woman’s nude body, for no reason Phoenix could discern other than to objectify her in the most literal sense.

“Excuse me, that’s not appropriate,” Phoenix informed him, the polite words nevertheless sharp enough to give a vorpal blade a run for its money.

“C’mon, lighten up,” Eric winked at her and ran his eyes over her neck and arm tattoos. “You’d make a great plate—you’re already decorated.”

Having already deployed her courteous warning, Phoenix would ordinarily now verbally eviscerate the pig and escort him from the premises. Champion Games was to be a space where women could feel comfortable to throw down some cute fucking sushi cards without their sexual attractiveness being a topic of prurient discussion.

But her righteous indignation on behalf of her gender seemed a little silly when the females at the table seemed unbothered. Sumiko was now laughing even harder and looking with iration at Eric, and even Phoenix’s sapphic compatriot Paige was just shaking her head and smiling indulgently, with no apparent discomfort. If this was the gaming community she was here to ingratiate herself with, maybe she shouldn’t burn any bridges...? Maybe she should just lighten up and let people have fun?

Phoenix took a breath and forced a brief smile, though she didn’t quite trust herself to respond verbally. She tried to focus on the game, though her head was still whirling with conflicting urges.

“So what’s no time-ory?” Sumiko asked, once she’d finished laughing.

Phoenix got through the game, although with less success than she’d like, foolishly taking a late-game wasabi that she was lucky to combo even into a sad egg nigiri. She came in third, above the other women and below the men.

The men. Phoenix had found herself strangely hyper-conscious of the two guys at the table, monitoring their every ear scratch, movement, and twitch of the face. It wasn’t that she found them particularly pleasant, and it certainly wasn’t that she was intimidated by them—that would be ridiculous. And yet, a feeling akin to anxiety seemed to be telling her that she should be directing her attention toward them.

“Here,” Eric said, handing Phoenix a tiny blue clip. “You get one point for third place.” He gave himself and the other guy two and three, respectively.

“Points?” asked Phoenix, following the others’ lead in attaching the clip to one side of her lanyard.

“Yeah, to tie the con together, you get points for each game you play. They help determine prizes at the end. The big events can win you a whole lot more, of course. And we need to do Sportsmanship points, too.” He slid another clip across the table to each player—these ones, pink. “Each of us can award a bonus point to any player you like, for whatever reason you want. For example...” he smiled at Phoenix. “Phoenix, I’ll give you this point, to thank you for ing in with our little convention.”

Phoenix found herself oddly touched. What a nice system. Sportsmanship was just as important here as winning. She was suddenly glad that she hadn’t been a downer earlier with the off-color joke. Almost blushing, she smiled and took the clip.

“I’ll give you one too, because Eric did,” Sumiko smiled.

Phoenix laughed. “Is that okay?”

“Any reason,” Eric reiterated.

“Here,” said Paige, giving her another clip. “I’ll give you mine too, for being a good listener.”

So in the end, Phoenix walked away with four points, one blue and three pink: That was more than anyone else (the second guy had given his point to Paige, and Phoenix decided that Eric deserved one for running the game), a fact which tickled her competitive spirit. She said her goodbyes and the table split off to go their separate ways.

Phoenix decided against g right up for another game, though. For one thing, she was hot, the sturdy green store polo shirt feeling extremely stuffy against her skin. She would have liked to change into the spare tank top she kept in a bag in the corner of her office for impulsive gym-going purposes, but if she was acting as an ambassador from the store, it was important she stayed in uniform. She settled for casually unbuttoning her shirt as far down as it went. It revealed more than she normally would like of her embarrassingly-pale cleavage, but opening the airflow made her feel a little better, and it was still mostly professional, right? Unfortunately, she saw no alternative to the black slacks for the moment.

While she was at it, she drank some water and downed an energy bar (which had taken the place of her lunch on more than one occasion). Then, still restless, Phoenix appeased her ADHD by making the rounds of the main storefront again. Honestly her staff were competent and had things handled, but she liked to keep her finger on the pulse. She checked in about a Pokemon singles pricing issue, and made a point of greeting some of the customers who she knew personally. She spotted Naveera, a beautiful young woman with a tall, dark sweater-wrapped body and exceptionally long, black pleated hair. The round glasses on her face made her look a bit wide-eyed and skittish. From previous discussions, Phoenix knew that she had gotten an interest in gaming through solo journaling RPGs, but Phoenix hoped to draw her deeper into the hobby.

Just as Phoenix was starting to veer in Naveera’s direction, she was beaten to the punch by Kylie, the check-in booth girl, who hopped over to the shy black woman, her decorative cosplay outfit only barely standing up to the rigors of locomotion. “Hi!” Phoenix heard her chirp. “Did you know that there’s an event happening here at Champion Games today, with lots of friendly people and games for everyone to enjoy? I’d like to offer you a complimentary !” She forced a lanyard into the hands of Naveera, who looked a little taken aback.

Phoenix smiled to herself. The CHWS was clearly on top of community outreach. Hopefully Naveera could find a non-solo game that grabbed her, and have some fun.

“Hey, Phoenix. The place sure is busy today.”

Phoenix turned to see another pair of regulars, Joscelyn and Mary, a married couple of pushing-40 geek women. Every square inch of their equally-rotund bodies was packed with love for genre fiction, nerd shit, and cats. They were extremely reliable customers.

“Yeah, this Countercon thing is a bigger deal than I expected. Are you two thinking of ing in?”

Joscelyn shook her head. “We asked about buying es, but the woman at the booth said they were sold out.”

“Sadface,” Mary pouted, tracing a tear down her ruddy cheek.

“They are? Well, maybe they still have a few complimentary ones. Hey, Kylie...!” Phoenix turned back around to grab the con worker’s attention, but both she and Naveera had disappeared. Casting her eyes around, Phoenix spotted Kylie propelling the beautiful black woman past the threshold into the bar space, using a combination of relentless positivity and literal force, pulling her by her long, delicate hand.

“Huh,” Phoenix frowned. “Well, sorry about that! I, uh...” She was seized by a sudden urge to get back into the con area herself. She was missing a chance to play games, maybe win some points. And... to do what Andi had wanted her to do. Which was... play games, or something?

“I should probably go back to, you know, keep an eye on things,” Phoenix excused herself, somewhat clumsily. She stumbled back past the check-in table, fingering the point clips on her lanyard. She glanced down at the badge, turning it so she could see it again. Phoenix. Gender: Girl.

‘Girl,’ not ‘Female’? How childish. And yet, the moment she crossed back into the event space, Phoenix felt a jolt of pep in her step, a sort of youthful energy, as if she was absorbing the happy energy of the gamers enjoying themselves at the con. Maybe a bit of childishness was appropriate: weren’t tabletop games just a way for adults to give themselves permission to PLAY again?

Eager to ride this excitement, Phoenix beelined back to the event sheet. Scanning it, what caught her eye turned out to be not a game, but a name: Paige, the charming younger lesbian she’d met at Sushi Go, signed up as a player for a D&D one-shot that was starting shortly and still had an empty slot available.

Coming to a quick decision, Phoenix scribbled down her own name. Andi had wanted her to make friends or whatever? So it was probably better to hang out with the same people more than once, right?

The D&D one-shot was booked in one of the small, private rooms on the second floor. On the way up, Phoenix scanned the crowd, and the event seemed to be going well. The morning’s Infinity event had wrapped up, and at those tables, folks were eating meals from the neighboring take-out burrito restaurant, with whom Champion had a symbiotic relationship. It was fine for gamers to eat in the bar space, which enabled their hardcore customers to spend more time (and presumably money) at the store.

Looked like the beers were out, though. Besides the direct evidence (mugs of frothy brew) there was a plethora of indirect evidence, mainly the way the female gamers seemed to be shedding layers of clothing, which they hadn’t had in great surplus to begin with. One bikini-clad blonde was grinding her tight derriere right up against the crotch of a tall thin guy who was casually chatting to his neighbors, and she wasn’t as far an outlier as one might hope. People were clearly getting a little too comfortable.

Frowning, Phoenix strode over to the bar itself, where Seb was busy pouring out local microbrews for a pigtailed milkmaid type girl with clearly enhanced spherical breasts, wearing a t-shirt so tight that she looked hardly able to breathe. The rock-hard nubs valiantly straining to escape the crushing force of the white fabric made it clear that she’d gone without a bra. Phoenix tried to ignore her and, like a Y-wing pilot, stay on target.

“Seb, you’re not supposed to open the bar until six.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, some of the con guys asked. I made the call to open early.”

“I don’t think our liquor license allows that.”

“Whatever,” he said, sounding more annoyed than the laconic gay guy usually did. “This event is eighteen and up anyway—there’s nobody underage. And we’re doing good business.”

“Well, you... shouldn’t.”

Seb ignored her as he handed the last mug over to the aspiring Hooters waitress.

Phoenix tried to muster the energy to tell him off more strongly, but couldn’t. Lord knew that she herself wasn’t that big on blindly following rules for their own sake. But it didn’t seem right for Seb to make that call on his own, and just ignore his boss.

She considered tracking down Andi for , but felt preemptively embarrassed by what that would imply. Like she needed to run and tell on her employees to her partner? Like she wasn’t a big girl herself? Maybe it was true, but the thought of itting it to Andi was mortifying. Dropping the issue might be the path of least resistance, but it was all she could handle at the moment.

As she slunk off, Phoenix found herself thinking of Cliff, the CHWS person, so confident and charismatic with the dignity of his more advanced age. If HE was in charge, an employee wouldn’t just ignore him, blow him off. Women in business sure had it tough.

And wait, wasn’t the drinking age higher than 18?

Phoenix tried to move past her downer of a mood as she settled in for the D&D one-shot. What was fantasy roleplaying for, if not to seize a sense of agency when real life denied it to you?

The five players who assembled in the cozy one-table room were Phoenix; Paige; a charming asian guy named Keith who had a bit of a tech bro vibe; Dave, a clueless-looking young man in a black t-shirt that said “I’m a Gamer AND a Playa”; and, behind a battered old DM screen, a bearded older man named Bryan, who wore a red con badge that labelled him in big bold letters as a “Board Member.” It was also obvious that he was Paige’s father, based the familiar way he addressed her. Phoenix recalled that the two’s relationship was strained, but she saw some genuine affection in the way he slapped her ass and complimented her appearance (“looking fuckable today, princess”) as she maneuvered into the chair next to him. Crude, but hey, every family relationship was different.

Speaking of maneuvering, the constrained space did not help Phoenix, who had already been feeling overheated. She practically wanted to squirm as soon as she settled into her chair. It didn’t help that thanks to her father’s innocent compliment, she was perhaps a little too conscious of the other young woman’s physical attributes. Paige was shapely, a similar match to Phoenix herself with her full chest and toned-from-exercise waist. Phoenix started to imagine the symmetry of the two of them making out, face to face, chest to chest... hands roaming each others’ backs, their tongues twining and un-twining around each other and around the long throbbing dick that they were sharing between each other, taking turns wrapping their lips eagerly around the purple cockhead...

Woah. Phoenix tried to snap herself back to reality. That was weird. For one thing, she was quite sexually satisfied with her beautiful monogamous life partner, and for another thing, living male penises were never a part of her fantasies; the phalluses she preferred were strictly toys, clean and artificial tools that were not attached to strong horny men who might push her down, slap her into submission, and rape a load of hot pulsing baby batter into her helpless lesbian p...

“Now, here are the pregens I have for you,” Bryan declared, and Phoenix eagerly latched on to the mental distraction. Bryan caught Phoenix’s eye with a smirk as he fanned out some character sheets on the table, no doubt channeling some kind of BS adversarial GM energy. But whatever, she was here to learn about a neighboring gaming culture and what sort of games might draw them in, so she’d roll with it.

“Dibs on the fighter!” Dave immediately.

“I’ll take a rogue,” Phoenix offered, not wanting to deal with spell lists. She rifled through the papers and landed on an appropriate pregen. Glancing at the stats, she saw high Dexterity and Charisma, okay Constitution and Intelligence, lowish Strength and Wisdom. All straightforward enough; stick to sneaking and speaking and she should be fine. Keith took a wizard and Paige a cleric, rounding out the traditional quartet of archetypes.

The adventure’s premise was that a poor town on the outskirts of civilization had sent away for a group of adventures to protect their people (a la Seven Samurai), since for the last several months one or more of their women disappeared on every full moon. Adequate enough for a one-shot, and Phoenix preferred an investigative game to a dungeon crawl. The premise was clearly supposed to make them think of werewolves, but she immediately ruled that out as being too obvious. Her money was on evil cultists.

Upon their reception at the Burgomaster’s house, the party was eagerly bombarded with facts, conflicting remembrances, and speculation courtesy of a gaggle of desperate and aggrieved male townsfolk, particularly desperate since the full moon was (of course) nigh that very evening. Since Keith seemed to be jotting down notes, Phoenix didn’t worry too much about retaining all the details.

“So Farmer Scherer’s house was completely locked down?” Keith asked at one point, for clarification.

Bryan, already fully in DM mode, didn’t hesitate in his response. “’Yes!’ the gaunt old man insists. ‘Every window and door barred from the inside! But the hintertür was opened regardless, and my poor young wife stolen away, before she even bore me an heir! It can only be the work of an evil sorcerer!’“

“Bore him an heir? How old is this guy again? Can he even still get it up?” Dave wondered.

“I hope you’re not saying that in character, man,” Keith chided him.

With the narration interrupted, Phoenix took the opportunity to cut in. “Are there any women around? If they’re the ones who’ve been disappearing, we should probably talk to them too.”

“The burgomaster’s daughter is moving around serving drinks and such. You haven’t heard her speak.”

“Is she hot?” Dave immediately demanded.

“Very,” Bryan replied promptly. “She’s blonde, with wide blue eyes and two long braids that hang down over her C-cup tits like the perfect facefucking handles. She’s wearing a modest dirdnl dress that can’t hide the ripeness of her body. She looks so fertile, you have the sense she’ll get instantly knocked up by the first dick that spreads her tight wet pussy open.”

Either Bryan was extremely prepared with his NPC details, or he was good at rolling with his players’ questions and improvising, Phoenix thought approvingly. Either way, the mark of good DM.

“Well, I’m going to slip off and see if I can talk to her privately,” Phoenix declared.

Bryan grinned at her. “Sure. If you really want to keep it private, roll Stealth.”

Phoenix did so; this being well within her character’s wheelhouse, her average roll of 11 meant a total of 25.

“After she puts down her last fresh beer stein, you quietly follow her into the kitchen. She startles when she notices you and lowers her eyes. ‘Yes, mistress adventurer? Can I get you something?’ she asks demurely.”

“Weeell, didn’t seem like that lot were eager t’ let you talk,” Phoenix said in character, impulsively slipping into a low-effort and probably anachronistic roguish drawl, somewhere between cockney and cowboy. Mostly cowboy. “I was just wonderin’ whether you might’ve noticed anythin’ usual these last few months.” Addressing the air behind Bryan’s shoulder, she imagined that she was speaking to the comely fraulein from his description, and added on a whim, “Sounds t’ me like sweet young things like you might be in some danger, and that’d be a real shame.”

Bryan nodded approvingly. “She hesitates, but seems to have trouble keeping her eyes off you. You’ll need to roll Persuade either way, but you can try to seduce her if you want.”

“Seduce! Seduce!” Dave urged.

Phoenix hesitated, herself. She was no stranger to playing out romance on the tabletop—her group’s current favored game was Thirsty Sword Lesbians—but that was with friends. With strangers at a con pick-up game, she wasn’t sure she wanted to open that door. Then again, what was the harm, really? And at least she wasn’t the only queer person in the room.

“Uh, sure,” she said. “Let’s go with seducing.”

“Great,” he said. “Stand up, then.”

Phoenix found herself standing up automatically, even as she asked “Why?”

“Paige, you come around and play the NPC,” Bryan directed, ignoring Phoenix. His daughter obligingly stood across from Phoenix, who once again noticed the way her jeans and t-shirt hung on her nubile body.

“Okay, now play it out.”

“Seriously?” Phoenix asked, incredulous. Paige, meanwhile, put her arms behind her back and thrust out her chest coquettishly. Phoenix noted that, just like the daughter in the game, Paige was blonde, fertile-looking, and had what she judged to be ripe C-cups. She was a good fit for the role.

“Sure. I’ll give you a bonus to the roll based on how well you do. Don’t you do that in your games?”

“I guess?” Phoenix muttered. Usually that meant making a speech, though, or coming up with an entertaining fast-talk patter for a Bluff roll. This seemed... inappropriate, somehow?

She must have frozen up, because before she knew it, the guys were frowning at her.

“C’mon, Phoenix,” Keith urged. “You’re holding up the game.”

Clearly she had to do something. If these guys didn’t approve of her, there was no way she’d get any of their Sportsmanship points at the end, and she was pretty sure Andi had said that was important. But her cheeks were on fire like she was a middle school student as she stared across at the expectant younger woman, her eyes level with her own. Paige seemed to be suppressing a smile as she widened her eyes and parted her lips, emoting an exaggerated flirtatious anticipation. There was no way Phoenix could think of something smooth to say. Instead, she leaned forward, trying to channel some high-Charisma confidence, and kissed her.

Paige’s lips parted eagerly, her tongue slipping out to play across the small tongue stud in Phoenix’s own. She was aware of the guys cheering and cat-calling, but even more aware of blood and moisture rushing to her nethers with a speed that made her dizzy, a wave of lust washing across her. She imagined that she could practically feel her pussy lips rubbing against each other as she shifted her weight, seeking a finger, or something larger, to spread them open.

Then Paige’s hand snuck up to grope gently at her tits, and Phoenix cried out at the fire that burst forth from her now-hard nipple.

“Hey, woah,” Bryan interrupted. “You’re the one being seduced here, Paige. I know you’re a dumb dyke slut, but try to keep it under control for once.”

“Sorry, daddy,” Paige pouted, a stark contrast from the somewhat cool demeanor Phoenix had originally seen from her.

Phoenix’s head was so hot she felt almost feverish. She quickly slunk back to her seat and slunk back into it. “I’d appreciate the derogatory language,” she said automatically, then belatedly realized what she’d said. She flushed even further. “I mean, I’d appreciate if you’d... stop with the derogatory language.”

“He didn’t mean any offense,” Keith soothed. “We love lesbians around here.”

“Yeah,” Dave added, leering. Phoenix did not miss the implication, but somehow the fact that men had enjoyed watching her make out with another woman didn’t particularly bother her. As it shouldn’t, she realized, because she should be proud of being a lesbian. It was sad how often society made her lose sight of that.

Bryan just shrugged his hefty shoulders. “Just calling a spade a spade. Anyway, I’ve seen better pick-ups, but I’ll give you a +2 on your roll since you’re hot.”

“Thank you,” Phoenix said, grateful for his approval. She was already feeling like he was the best GM she’d ever had—so confident and immersive!

She made the roll, anyway. Her social skills being only slightly less min-maxed than her stealth ones, it was not a problem.

“Okay, so you two start getting hot and heavy in the kitchen pretty quick. She seems almost as eager as my own whore daughter, and pulls your hand down to fingerbang her while she tries to stifle her moans so the men in the next room don’t hear her. We’ll skip over playing that out, because we’re on a tight timeframe.”

Phoenix nodded. You always had to manage time wisely in one-shots.

Seduction seemed to have been an appropriate means of gathering information, because in the whispered afterglow, the Burgomaster’s daughter (Phoenix realized that her character had apparently just brought this girl to orgasm without learning her name) revealed that she’d been feeling badly in need of release for the past few days.

“Ask her if she felt that way last month too,” Keith directed Phoenix. The related answer was that yes, this heat had been occurring monthly for some time—around the full moon. (“But isn’t that, like, normal for bitches?” was Dave’s apparently-sincere question.)

Keith snapped his fingers. “Cool, so someone is influencing the women in town, some kind of hypnosis or whatever, and kidnapping them one by one. Farmer Scherer’s wife opened the door from the inside. She was probably affected even more strongly because that guy is old as shit and cannot, in fact, get it up after all.”

“I knew it!” Dave chimed in with satisfaction.

Bryan looked pained. “I prepared for a lot more investigation, you know.”

Keith grinned at him. “I’ve been playing with you a while, man, I know the way you think. You should thank me; now you’re not so time-crunched.”

After a quick survey of the townswomen, they determined that the most likely targets were either the Burgomaster’s daughter herself, or a virtuous young woman named Elzebeth who had remained unmarried to care for her invalid father. It was helpful that most of the “prime pussy” (Dave’s words) in town had apparently already been taken.

They set up a stake-out for the two homes—if the target ended up being anyone else they were screwed, but splitting off PCs individually was a self-evidently bad idea.

Keith decided that his wizard would pair off with Phoenix’s thief, and Dave’s fighter with Paige’s cleric; two pairs of physical and magical characters. Nobody raised any objections. In fact, Phoenix had hardly heard a peep from Paige the whole game; at the moment, she was just sitting there with a distant look, running her tongue lightly over her lips. Trying politely not to focus on those lips (which she now knew the taste of), Phoenix took a moment to check in, leaning towards the other woman. “Hey, Paige, are you having fun?”

“Hmm?” Paige came out of her daydreaming, and gave Phoenix a warm smile. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m not that into roleplaying, really, so I’m fine standing back and playing the healslut.” Phoenix laughed, slightly awkwardly, at her choice of terminology. She was the only one who did.

“The night is still and clear,” Bryan reported, once the group had made their preparations and put their characters into place on the town map sketched out on the tabletop whiteboard. “The full moon looms overhead, seeming larger here on the outskirts of civilization than you it being in the city. The townsfolk have retreated to their houses and barred the doors, and they loom dark and silent, without even the flicker of lamplight to show signs of life. There’s a faint smell of something on the breeze, sweet, almost fruity. From your hiding places, you shiver in the cool northern air while you try to keep your senses alert.”

He spoke slowly and calmly, giving time for the players to build a mental picture, and for the tension to build.

“Dave,” Byran shot out suddenly, “Roll Listen.”

“Shit, do I have that? Uh... 12.”

“It sounded like a feminine squeal. There might have been another voice as well.”

“I pull out my bastard sword, run over to the house, and kick down the door! Paige, back me up.”

Their miniatures repositioned by the house, and Dave’s Strength check easily made, Bryan continued. “Your muscular, practiced kick tears the latch from the badly-maintained doorframe, and the door slams open to reveal the main room, sort of a central hallway with a table and the cooking area in back. From the dim light of a lantern on the table, you see a beautiful young woman backed up against the timber-frame wall. She’s on her knees, sobbing, and topless. The hunched figure in front of her is pulling both her thin wrists above her head in one powerful hand, and beating her sizable tits with the other. The colorful variety of new to half-healed bruises on her show that this must be a regular occurrence.”

“What does the thing look like? Is it a monster or something?”

“Good question. As he turns, enraged, you see it’s just a man, apparently with some kind of back issue by the way he holds himself. ‘What the hell are you doing in my house?’ he asks angrily.”

Keith grinned. “False alarm, looks like.”

“Sorry dude, we thought it was the monsters or whatever,” Dave apologized.

“’Of course not! You think the kidnappers would go after this worthless whore daughter of mine?’ He gives her a slap across the face. ‘She’s so lazy, she doesn’t even want to fulfill the wifely duties her mother left her when she ed.’”

Dave shrugged. “Okay, whatever. Let’s go hide again before the real bad guys show up.”

“Wait,” Phoenix objected, “You’re not going to help the girl?”

“Why? You heard the guy, she was being a frigid cunt.” Seeing Phoenix’s horrified expression, he conceded, “I mean, guess I could make Paige’s cleric chick fuck the dude to calm him down.” Paige seemed unperturbed by the off-hand proposal to whore out her character. Phoenix supposed Dave was just brainstorming.

“Nice idea, but bad strategy,” Keith put in. “It’d be just like Bryan to have shit go down while our healer is busy getting railed. He did the same thing in our last Star Wars campaign—a gang of bounty hunters got the drop on us just as Paige’s Jedi was pulling a train on a half-dozen Trandoshans to raise us some cash.”

“Speaking of which,” Bryan cut in, “while Dave and Paige are watching this guy apply some loving discipline to his daughter, I need Keith and Phoenix to make some Perception rolls, too.”

Here it came—no DM was likely to introduce two red herrings in a row. Keith’s skill-poor wizard rolled sub-10, but Phoenix’s dice were hot; she rolled a natural 20, the total ending well above even with her low base Wisdom. Bryan nodded.

“Paige your character notices figures moving through the darkness in two different places. First, several small creatures are moving silently over the walls and rooftops, homing in on Keith’s hiding place. Second, a bulky, shadowy humanoid shape is moving slowly but confidently towards the burgomaster’s house. None of the creatures seem to notice you, and Keith doesn’t seem to notice any of them in the dim moonlight. What do you do?”

Phoenix considered. Warning Keith might save him from getting surprised, but it would ruin her own chances of staying hidden and/or getting off a sneak attack. She supposed there was no helping it—she needed to alert her other teammates, anyway.

“I shout out ‘Above you!’ and step out to confront the big figure. I’m drawing my blades, but going full defense. Keeping my eyes on it while I call for the other two to get over here.” With her high AC, she figured she could distract whatever this was, and tank a few attacks until the real fighter arrived.

“Okay,” Bryan nodded. “Everyone roll initiative—Keith, you roll with disadvantage because of the last-minute warning, but they won’t get a surprise round.” Phoenix, unsurprisingly, got the high roll. “Great,” Bryan smiled. “Let’s deal with you first.”

“As you get closer, you can see the figure in the darkness is a seven-foot-tall scaly humanoid. Its dragon-like head and the wings folded up on its back look reptilian, but your eyes are instantly drawn to a more mammalian feature—a huge, flaccid cock hanging down between its legs, which gives the slightest of twitches as it turns in your direction and looks at you with cold, beady eyes. I need you to roll a Will check.”

Phoenix frowned. In contrast to her Stealth, Perception, and Initiative, her dump-stat in Wisdom did not do her Will save any favors. Nor did her luck compensate. “Is six enough?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nope. Your character finds herself irresistibly drawn toward that cock—overcome with a sense of your own inferiority to the huge godly organ. It’s already as wide around as your arm while flaccid, and would probably destroy whichever one of your tight half-elven holes it tore into, but nevertheless you find yourself slowly walking toward it in a daze, eager for the chance even to touch it.”

“Uh, actually,” Phoenix cut in. “My character isn’t attracted to men.” Or was this a man, exactly? “I mean, she doesn’t like dicks.”

Bryan shrugged. “Then she must find it weird that she’s so fucking hot for this one.”

That was a classic DM hedge—when a player points out a plot hole, like wondering how a massive dragon could get in and out of their lair when every ageway out was human-sized, just keep a poker face and repeat ‘yes, that IS strange, isn’t it?’ so the players assume there’s some well-thought out secret behind it. Phoenix rolled her eyes.

“Just think of it as an opportunity to roleplay,” Keith suggested, a friendly smirk on his face.

That was true enough. Phoenix decided to play along. She tried to get into the mindset of a capable, charismatic, hot lesbian... not too hard, she giggled inwardly to herself... who was for some reason desperate to ruin herself on some evil asshole’s dick, possibly suicidally so. Self-destructive impulses or whatever. Eros and Thanatos and stuff. Just a plain old pathetic self-hating rapedoll, possibly. She wasn’t that up on her psychology.

Anyway, she considered the matter deeply until her turn came back around again—her comrades fighting off little dragonkin or hustling towards the disturbance, respectively.

“Alright, Phoenix, back to you. What do you do, bearing in mind you’re still under the influence of the mental effect?”

“Okay, so you said I really wanted to touch the thing’s penis and felt inferior to it, right?” Phoenix felt energized—it was good to stretch her roleplaying muscles beyond her comfort zone. At Bryan’s nod, she continued.

“My character approaches the looming dragon-man, her eyes focused on its massive draconic cock. Dropping to her knees in the damp earth, she eagerly pulls the head of the scaled phallus into her mouth. It rapidly starts to harden, and she braces herself by grabbing the creature’s hard, muscular thighs and forces her mouth further and further down on it. Soon it becomes erect enough that her air is cut off, but instead of pulling away she just pulls down her tight leather leggings and starts to rub her clit, ready to bring herself to the edge of death or beyond for the privilege of giving this monstrous creature a moment of fleeting orgasmic pleasure.”

Not unlike her character, the guys’ jaws were all hanging open. Phoenix grinned to herself—she had clearly roleplayed the socks off of them. She had the Sportsmanship points for this game in the bag.

“Damn!” Dave exclaimed.

“And besides being in-character, hopefully that distracts it for a bit until the rest of you clear out the minions,” Phoenix explained.

Bryan recovered himself. “Now just a minute,” he said. “You can decide what your character does, but not how the dragon creature reacts. It might attack you as you crawl near, or push you off when it realizes that you’re trying to distract it.”

“Oh, right.” Phoenix frowned. She was probably too used to more modern games, which split narrative control a little more equitably.

“So I’ll need you to make a Persuade roll,” he continued. “I’ll give you a bonus for that great description, but the DC is going to be pretty damn high since you’re trying to distract it during combat.”

Phoenix picked up her d20. Her Persuade was good, but it was true that this sounded like a long shot. As she was hesitating, Paige cut in.

“You’ll give her an even bigger bonus if she acts it out though, right?”

“Of course!” Bryan agreed. “That’s what tabletop roleplaying is all about.”

“Do you mean...” at first Phoenix wasn’t sure what Paige was implying, but it quickly became clear as Bryan rose from his seat and smoothly pulled off the long belt holding his pants up his wide hips. Then the pants came down, revealing his own dangling prick, peeking out like a disgusting worm from between his thick, hairy thighs.

Phoenix’s eyes locked on to it. She was not overly familiar with male sex organs, but was this one unusually large? Mostly flaccid, it was hard to tell. Although that condition was clearly already starting to change, the member ever so slightly starting to inflate. Surely from air exposure; there was nothing sexy about running a D&D convention one-shot.

“I can’t, I’m... a lesbian,” Phoenix said.

“That’s what I’m always telling dad!” Paige laughed sympathetically.

“Well, so is your character,” Bryan reassured Phoenix, showing no judgement for her sexual proclivities. “That just makes it an even better opportunity for roleplaying.”

Hesitantly, Phoenix lowered herself to her knees. First one leg. Then the other. Time seemed to be slowing down; she was conscious of the slight fiction of the crotch of her pants against her own as she moved. Too tight, she thought absently, as she leaned forward and got her first whiff of the older man’s male scent. She’d expected the smell to be repulsive, and objectively it probably was, but there was something relaxing about it as well—like visiting the tobacco-suffused home of a smoking grandparent when you were a child. It was nothing like your own home, but it was familiar, and you knew the person there would take care of you. Everything there was strange, but okay. This was okay.

Somehow her tongue was already delicately, tentatively touching Bryan’s cock. She opened her mouth wider, saliva welling up to turn it into a smooth, warm sleeve to receive it. She could feel her juices starting to flow down below as well, which just went to show how silly bodies could be—the dick wasn’t going there! She was a lesbian. Obviously, the only way a dick was getting between her legs was if a strong man spread them and took the choice away from her.

Uncertainly, she took it into her mouth and experimentally began to... suck at it? Like a popsicle, albeit warm and fleshy? Didn’t seem quite right, but if there was a single spot to focus on like the clit, she wasn’t sure where it was. And although she’d described her character as forcing the dick deep in her throat, she wasn’t sure how to achieve this in practice; only a little more than halfway in, and she could already feel it uncomfortably against the back of her mouth.

“Fuck, she’s so bad at it!” Dave laughed.

It’s my first time, Phoenix wanted to argue, before discovering that a mouthful of cock was not conducive to communication. She started to pull away, but suddenly Bryan’s strong hand was behind her head, keeping her firmly on his now-erect boner.

“She doesn’t need to be good to be in character,” he said. “Just more enthusiastic. Paige?”

His one masculine hand was replaced by two feminine ones as his daughter firmly took possession of Phoenix’s head, her strong lithe fingers stretched out on each side like a firm, gentle, ive web.

“You’re being too ive,” Paige whispered in Phoenix’s ear (between her splayed ring and middle fingers), with a breathy earnestness that Phoenix found immediately arousing. “, your character is supposed to be desperately face-fucking the monster. Here.”

And then Phoenix was gagging as the cock in her mouth pressed deeper into her mouth. It was wildly uncomfortable and a little distressing, and her first thought was to struggle—but that would be ungrateful to Claire, who was going above and beyond to help her roleplay this ittedly unusual situation on the tabletop.

So she tried to relax her throat, open it wide like she was taking a deep breath before projecting her voice, holding it open to be a welcoming canal for the burrowing invader. She closed her eyes, let her mind settle on the rhythmic ‘glurk glurk’ sound that she was involuntarily emitting: proof that her voice, her breath, her smile—in many ways, her identity as a human—were being set aside so she could be a masturbation toy to milk out a man’s cum. But the thought didn’t bother her. It was all just roleplay, and with the stresses of business owning, it was at least a nice change of pace to set aside her worries and be an object for a bit.

“That’s great. You can do it,” Paige murmured encouragement. “Don’t let anyone tell you that just because you’re a lesbian, you can’t get a man off with your throat. Keep going!”

And she let go of Phoenix. Her momentum stalled for a moment, but filled with a surge of determination and queer pride at Paige’s belief in her, she emulated her character, grabbed firm hold of her GM’s girthy buttocks, and continued the business of forcing the dick in and out of her esophagus.

It was different doing it herself—harder. She couldn’t just check out, she had work hard to pull herself so deep onto the man in front of her that her nose nestled in his pungent wiry public hair. Then pull back, draw breath though that same nose. Then repeat. But she pushed herself to keep doing it with determination and perseverance. Like a hero. Like her character.

It occurred to her that she had been doing this for considerably longer than a combat round, and could probably stop. She pulled herself back, allowing the fleshy rod to finally leave the warm confines of her mouth, and took a deep, shuddering breath. At the same moment, and possibly triggered by the sudden change in sensation, Bryan’s cock shuddered and pulsed, shooting shockingly thick ropes of cum. The first shot straight into her open mouth, causing her to choke and sputter at the unexpected sourness of the sticky parting shot. The second landed across her face, just narrowly avoiding her eye—a rather mismatched accoutrement to her stylish piercings.

Phoenix was momentarily speechless, not sure what to do first.

“I’m dripping,” Bryan pointed out brusquely, gesturing to splooge that hadn’t had the necessary propulsion to launch and was now quickly dripping down his softening cock. Phoenix automatically muttered an apology—nobody had asked her to get the guy off, for fuck’s sake, and this was all so messy... but the comment appeared to have actually been directed at Paige, who immediately ed Phoenix on the floor and took her own turn at the source of half her DNA, cleaning her father’s fucktool with long, practiced licks before suckling it herself, coaxing out the last drips of her potential half-siblings.

Phoenix was still staring at this display when she noticed that Keith and Dave both had their phones trained on them.

“Hey, uh, I didn’t give my consent to be photographed,” she protested.

“Actually, you did,” Keith replied. “In attending the con, you give permission for your picture or video to be taken for use in the club’s promotional or fundraising materials. It was part of the agreement you signed.”

“Oh...” Phoenix didn’t having signed that, but she clearly must have. She felt a pang of shame at her incompetence. It had all just been innocent roleplaying, but she was aware that out of context, she would look like a cleap whore. Andi would never have made a mistake like that. Because unlike Phoenix, she wasn’t a dumb worthless cunt.

“Dude,” Dave leaned his phone toward Keith to show him something. “This clip of her saying ‘I didn’t give my consent’ with jizz across her face is gonna be, like, the greatest gif.”

Phoenix shakily rose to her feet, only now becoming aware of now sore her mouth and knees were. She just wanted to move on. “Look, can I make that roll now?”

It was a 20. Which was some consolation, at least.

The game progressed from there. With Phoenix’s unexpected nat 20 on her skill check, the lead draconian monster decided to immediately abscond with her, leaving the rest of the party to mop up the flying kobold-ish ones. Then the game went back and forth between the rest of the party tracking her back to the creature’s lair and fighting their way through, and the adventures of Phoenix’s character in said lair, which mostly involved being raped.

Phoenix was pretty checked out, honestly. She felt drained, fuzzy, weirdly hot. Oh, she made her rolls... Will saves to see if the charm musk wore off (failure), Fort saves to see if she could take half damage from being fucked raw by a scaled dragon cock (success), a skill check to see if she could satisfy the monster using her breasts (failure, resulting in a second round of getting brutally fucked, this time in the ass, bringing her character startlingly close to zero). But each time Bryan or the others suggested she play her actions out for another bonus, she demurred. She could tell Keith and Dave were disappointed, but Bryan gave them a sharp look and told them not to pressure her, that it was important that everyone learned to enjoy gaming events at the pace that was right for them. Phoenix still felt guilty—she knew she was letting down the group by not being fully engaged. But she was just too much in her own head, too distracted.

Partly by her fucking store uniform. How had she ever approved this starchy, uncomfortable shit? And her bra was too tight, it felt practically itchy. She compromised by unbuckling her bra and slipping it off while the others were distracted by Paige casting some homebrewed full heal spell that required her to get double-teamed by Dave and Keith.

Somehow she got through the session. The rest of the party saved her character and together they defeated what Dave dubbed the “rapedragons,” saving the captured “breeding whores” and restoring them to their rightful owners, their fathers or husbands. If there was some explanation as to why their abduction had been tied to a lunar cycle, Phoenix had missed it.

When the time came for the event points to be distributed, Bryan gave Phoenix one of the blue clips “for good roleplaying effort.” But the Sportsmanship points, the ones that could freely be awarded by the players, rained down on Paige.

“Paige, I appreciate your good attitude,” Keith said, as he handed her his pink clip. “Back when I first started playing with you and Bryan, you still used to whine and complain sometimes, and we used to need to slap you around. You’ve really accepted your place as a cocksocket.”

“And fuck, you’ve got the tightest cunt around,” Dave praised. “Must be because you’re a rugmuncher, you don’t get enough cocks stretching you out.”

“I only wish that was true,” Paige joked, and everyone laughed. Her shirt had come off some time ago, and the tops of her youthfully pert breasts glistened with dried cum that the guys had wiped off on them, for the sake of tidiness. “But thanks, guys. Actually I’ve been sort of burnt out on gaming lately, but somehow coming to these cons always reminds me why it’s fun.”

Phoenix knew the praise was well-deserved. Paige had spoken up rarely, but sometimes the players who didn’t try to hog the spotlight were what kept the game running smoothly. Mustering up a warm smile, she handed her own Sportsmanship clip to her queer sister.

“Thanks for helping me with my roleplaying when I was struggling,” she said, sincerely. Addressing the group, she added, “Sorry I was kind of out of it for most of the game.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Bryan said. “Nobody expects much from a dumb feminist cunt like you. Just take off your ugly shirt and show us your tits and we’ll call it good.”

Phoenix did so, glad to have permission to get out of the garment. While the men eyeballed her and rated her chest, she adjusted the lanyard so the string nestled between her pale breasts. She noticed that the gender on her badge was listed as “Bitch,” which was only a gender for dogs, not humans. She laughed inwardly, finding her feelings of uselessness lightening a little. Seeing that the event organizers could make such a huge mistake, she decided that maybe she WAS too hard on herself. Life was hard enough without trying to live up to unrealistic self-expectations.

Phoenix’s good mood faded quickly as they emerged from the small private room (now rather stuffy and odd-smelling) and dispersed into the rest of the con. Her game over, it was now time to put on her Boss Hat again and take on some responsibility; and it was manifestly clear that SOMEBODY had to.

It seemed that a tendency toward crude sexuality was not unique to the guys she had played with. But it was one thing to make off-color jokes, or incorporate some sex into your RPG at an all-adult table. It was another to... do whatever all this was.

It was a full-on orgy, basically. Certainly the folding tables ed more fertile young women getting railed than games, although Phoenix did still see the occasional round of Magic or 7 Wonders being played by smug male nerds, while half-dressed females worked hard sucking them off or eagerly mashing fatty tits around their men’s erect cocks.

A few ambitious groups were combining the two concepts of ‘games’ and ‘sexual exploitation.’ In the corner, two naked women were contorting painfully on the floor as they competed to force as many dice tubes deep up their cunts as they could. The men gazing cruelly and wolfishly down at them would clearly have been eager to help, but held stoically back in the name of fair play.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” Phoenix snapped at a man who was pissing into the open mouth of a kneeling gorgeous, topless redhead with a glazed expression. He shrugged. “Bathroom was full so we set up another urinal.” The piss whore was doing a good job of catching the strong streams of bitter liquid, but every time she closed her mouth to swallow, it splashed all over her face, dripping down her perky boobs and stomach to her red cotton panties, not to mention the many minuscule droplets that splattered onto the floor, walls... and at least one Phoenix swore hit her own face.

Phoenix supposed that she was, at least, learning something about the CHWS community and what it liked. But still. Some of this was definitely against the of the space rental.

Angrily, she cast her gaze around for someone she could unleash some righteous anger upon. Her eye fell on a cluster of people who were not occupied in a game. Keith, fresh from their one-shot, was standing chatting to a couple of other, skinnier youngish men, one of whom was casually mauling the tits of a gorgeous blonde about Phoenix’s age who was sitting on his lap, with all the care of someone kneading a stress ball. (Phoenix could relate—she made good use of fidget toys herself to keep her hands busy.) The third man had his pants off, and was getting fucked by a doll-like girl in full loligoth regalia (except that her black frilled skirt was ridiculously short, and she had no panties). Phoenix thought she ed seeing her earlier in the day, except now she was bent over and rhythmically fucking her pussy on the man’s unmoving dick in an act of modestly impressive athleticism and flexibility. A chain was attached to a black dog collar around her thin neck, the other end of which was being held casually by the man she was screwing, while her con badge scraped the floor and flopped around, hanging from its lanyard. Most importantly, this last guy’s own lanyard had a red name badge on it. Like Bryan, he must have been a member of the CHWS board.

Mustering her authority, Phoenix strode over to them.

“Excuse me,” she snapped.

“I don’t see Grace around tonight,” the board member commented to Keith, ignoring Phoenix.

“Yeah, man, crazy story.” Keith responded. “My dad walked in on her sucking me off while I was playing Call of Duty. Never heard him coming, my headphones were on and she was in the zone.”

“Damn!”

“Excuse me,” Phoenix tried again. A few of their eyes flicked over in her direction, though not at her face—Phoenix realized she was still topless, the smoothness and fullness of her tits highlighted by the fact that they were unmarked by the tattoos that dotted her arms and back. Then they turned back to their conversation. Not even Keith, her erstwhile adventuring buddy, acknowledged her.

“So what, are you two like in deep shit or something?”

“He started to go off on us, but Grace convinced him it was her fault for being such a filthy whore, and that she needed lots of paternal punishment. He’s staying home from work today while mom’s out to fuck her senseless.” Keith sighed. “Not gonna lie, it’s kind of a turn-off to share your live-in sex slave with your dad.“

“Good for him, though,” said the guy with the blonde on his lap. “Having a fuckslave daughter is every guy’s dream, right? Speaking of which, Isaac, when are you going to finally knock up this dumb breeding cow?”

“Please...” the blonde said, perking up suddenly. “Master, please impregnate me! My tits would get soooo big and I promise if it’s a girl I’ll raise her to be your barely-legal cumdump when she grows up!”

Isaac turned and slapped her across the face. “Nobody asked your opinion, slut.”

“Hi,” said a voice behind Phoenix’s shoulder. Startled, she turned to see a slim, curvy, dark-haired woman dressed in the barest scraps of clothing—a red thong bottom so small and tight that it seemed to serve little purpose besides digging tightly between her pussy lips and asscheeks, and a loose gauzy top that just draped down over her shapely breasts, catching on the end of a pair of gleaming nipple clamps. “My name’s Julie. You look upset.”

“Hi,” Phoenix responded shortly. “I’m Phoenix, I’m one of the managers here, and I need to talk to this guy, but he’s... just ignoring me!”

Julie smiled uncomfortably—either because of the situation, or from the pain she must be in from the rather distressingly-strong clamps. “Yeah, I thought it might be something like that. The thing is, you’re being really rude about it.”

“Rude?” Phoenix asked, somewhat floored.

“Yeah! I mean, they’re guys, and Isaac is part of the Inner Circle, you know.” She smiled with pride in the unassuming geek’s direction. “They don’t just answer worthless cunts like us.” Seeing Phoenix’s face reddening and taking it for embarrassment, Julie hastened to reassure her, “Oh, it’s okay! I made all kinds of social blunders the first time I came to one of these events, too.“

In fact what Phoenix was feeling was anger, or maybe frustration, that everything was slipping out of her control, that she was failing at her managerial duties, that nobody seemed to be listening to her. Worthless cunt—that’s exactly how she was feeling. The only times she’d felt confident today were when she was playing games.

But she rallied all her remaining energy. It wasn’t Julie’s fault she’d had a rough day, or even these guys she was trying to talk to. She was an adult professional, and these were all paying customers to their store—both today and, if she could be trusted to foster a positive relationship with them like Andi trusted her to—in the future. She had to hold on to her temper.

She took a breath. “Okay, what should I do?”

Julie smiled warmly at her. “I mean, it would be most polite to just wait patiently in the ‘nadu’ position, but if you’re in a hurry... start the conversation by asking if there’s anything you can do for them. Like getting them a drink, or sucking their cock, or fucking them, or doing a striptease, or letting them slap your tits or spank you for fun. And call them ‘sir’ or ‘master’ at least—that’s just basic manners.”

Taking a deep breath, Phoenix turned back to the men, who were now deeply involved in a discussion about the relative sexiness of treating a woman like a milk cow, as opposed to a cat or dog. “Excuse me... sirs,” she tried, the unfamiliar word catching on her tongue. “I was wondering if, uh...” She hit a wall. The word ‘sir’ was unfamiliar enough; but not once in her life had she ever needed to offer sexual services to men.

But Julie’s advice on getting their attention must have been good. The three guys did stop their conversation, and stared expectantly her Phoenix, smirking. The doll-like girl shifted the pace of her grinding, shoving her pussy onto and off of Isaac with slow, strong movements that must have stirred her deeply. Her eyes were closed, her face set in a neutral expression that nevertheless quivered, betraying traces of overwhelming pleasure, or pain.

Phoenix realized she’d been staring, and flushed. “I’m sorry, I completely blanked. I’m so sorry. I’m so dumb.” She glanced over at Julie, who mouthed the words ‘worthless cunt’ as a reminder. “I’m such a worthless cunt,” she echoed. Julie flashed her a thumbs up.

“Whatever,” Isaac said, sounding a bit guttural. “I’m about to come; get your face down here and help clean up. Swallow as much as you can.” Then his eyes unfocused, and Phoenix had no time to think. She dropped to the floor as fast as she could, shoving her head down to the where the living sex toy’s pussy wrapped around his rock-hard cock, his scrotum now clenching visibly as it flooded her womb with jizz. She managed to get some of it into her mouth as it came, though plenty more spilled out all over.

When Phoenix hesitated, Isaac shoved her head down to the floor with one hand, and she started lapping up the thick strings of cum—off the carpet, and from between the still-dripping thighs of the short-skirted sex doll. Phoenix was grateful for Isaac’s redirection. Of course the thing to do was lap the man’s cum off of wherever it had fallen. She wasn’t thinking straight today. She needed reminders. She needed to be thinking less. Life would be so much easier if she was a brainless cumbucket like this slut.

But... no. She had a job here. She had to keep focus. So, like the badass girlboss that she was, she raised her cum-smeared face up toward Isaac’s, looking down patriarchally from the chair where he reclined.

“Sir,” she began forcefully. “I need to talk about... the things that are going on here.”

“What about them?” asked Isaac.

Phoenix desperately searched her mind for words. “They’re not okay,” was what she settled on.

“And what’s wrong with them?” Isaac pressed. His smile struck Phoenix as somehow predatory. She felt a sudden surge of severe anxiety, and fought down the urge to grovel at his feet, crying and begging forgiveness for bothering him with dumb problems when she couldn’t even articulate her thoughts properly.

“I... do you know where Cliff is?” That was the solution. She knew Cliff. She’d been working with him to arrange the event. He was in charge, had the most authority. The strongest man, the biggest dick probably. He would fix everything. She smiled warmly, her body flushing with an unexpected shudder of pleasure at the thought of seeing him again. Another thought occurred to her. “Or Andi?” Why hadn’t she thought of Andi first? So much more competent than her.

Isaac stood up. “You don’t need them. I can help you. But first let’s play a game.”

“A game?” Phoenix asked weakly.

“Sure. Just a short one. It’s a gaming event, right? And you probably want to win more event points, right?”

Phoenix fiddled with the clips on her lanyard. It was true. She did. “Ummm...” She tried to focus on the problems she was trying to solve, but they kept slipping away. “I guess I could...”

“Good,” said Isaac. “The game is called ‘What Are You?’ Julie, you’ll in too.” He turned to Neil, the greasy guy beside him. “You want your slave to play?”

“Nah,” said Neil. “You know I don’t let her talk. Besides, she knows what she is.” He glared at the blank-eyed doll that Isaac had been fucking just before, trickles of cum still running down her leg, mes her tight black stockings. He yanked at the end of her chain and she obediently moved closer, kneeling next to him.

Isaac raised his voice. “Hey, anyone else want to let their cunt in a little word game I made up?”

Soon they had four. In addition to Phoenix and Julie, a buxom woman named Angie in fishnets was volunteered. Then unexpectedly, Naveera, the quiet black co-ed, raised her hand and slipped in. She looked flush, worked up, more actively excited than Phoenix had seen her before, and she’d lost her covering sweater, leaving her in a thin white undershirt that clung to her sweet coltish curves.

“Oh, Naveera,” Phoenix greeted her. “Are you having fun?”

She smiled shyly back, pure innocent beauty, and fiddled with her long braid. “I’ve been a little nervous to a game... but I’m good with words.”

The four were instructed to stand in a line, and a space was cleared for them. A bit of an audience formed around them as well, though they were hardly the only interesting diversion occurring in the room. (One of the women in the corner was up to four dice tubes. Phoenix hoped that they’d been purchased downstairs, at least.)

“Here are the rules,” Isaac instructed. “Starting with the letter ‘a’ and going down the alphabet, you’ll each take turns saying something you are related to your gender, and then choose something that you do or is done to you by men. No repeated words. Understand?”

His explanation sounded very simple. At the same time, Phoenix didn’t understand what on earth he was talking about.

Naveera half-raised her hand, like she was in school. Isaac looked at her. “Can we use adjectives?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Let’s say no more than two words per answer, though. And neither can be reused.”

Phoenix still felt lost, but luckily she was third in line, just before Naveera, so she had a chance to get a few examples.

“I’m an arrogant bitch,” Julie said confidently, “so I get slapped.”

Eyebrows went up among the audience at the skillful answer. Not only did the words go together naturally, Julie had blocked out the most obvious ‘b’ response.

Luckily Angie had a ready second option. “I’m a big-titted slut,” she said, “so I get titfucked.”

All eyes turned to Phoenix. “Uhhh...” she hedged. She fiddled with her badge, then found her salvation by glancing down at the gender written on it. “I’m a cunt,” she replied quickly, “so I... get fucked?” It was a natural connection, but it felt very crude to say.

Naveera spoke quietly, but confidently. “I’m a dumb slut,” she said, “so I just keep quiet and giggle.”

“I’m entertainment,” Julie continued, “so I do stripteases.” She pulled at the strings of her thong, shimmying them down to reveal a glimpse of her smooth-shaven snatch, before pulling them back up with a giggle.

“I’m a feminist,” Angie continued. Of all the degrading words getting thrown around, this was the one that produced a sharp intake of breath from the men. “...so I choke on cock until I out.” The tension was defused with appreciative laughs.

That left Phoenix with ‘g’. Her mind was blank. She glanced back down at her con badge automatically, even though there was no reason it should say anything different than it did before.

And yet it did. Words seemed to swim in front of her eyes. Cunt. Slut. Whore. Fuck toy. Sex slave. Cock socket. Jizzrag. Cum dumpster. Rape meat. It was bizarre. Phoenix was fairly sure that some of those weren’t even genders at all, although to be to be fair they all did seem gendered. Pleasingly, playfully feminine, even.

She tried to read her name, but the same thing was happening. With more or less the same words.

Her mind surfaced. “You, the brown bitch,” Isaac was addressing Naveena. “Do you have an answer for ‘g’?”

“I’m a good girl,” Naveera said simply, “so I don’t argue with men.”

All eyes turned to Phoenix. “Sorry, whore,” Isaac said. “Looks like you’re out. You take the penalty.”

“Penalty?” Phoenix asked dumbly, reeling from the fact that she hadn’t thought of ‘girl.’ Fuck.

“Yeah,” Isaac smirked. “You do all the actions that got listed so far. Count yourself lucky that you dropped out early.”

“What? I don’t want to...”

Isaac’s hand came out of nowhere, unexpectedly powerful, slapping across Phoenix’s face and dropping her to her knees. One of her own hands flew up to touch the stinging cheek.

“See? You’re one-seventh done already,” he said.

A couple of guys, one of them Isaac’s friend Neil, volunteered to ister Phoenix’s penalty, dragging the stunned woman away from the game and, after a brief debate, into the upstairs women’s’ bathroom.

She tried to resign herself to the situation—she had lost, in a particularly brain-dead way no less, and she wanted to be a good sport. What were all the things she was supposed to do again...?

Neil unbelted his pants and revealed a rapidly-stiffening prick. “Titfuck, whore,” he demanded. Right.

Luckily her shirt was already off. Phoenix struggled with the logistics—she was less endowed than Angie, and even when she jostled into the best position she could, kneeling in front of Neil and lifting one boob in each hand, it didn’t seem like there would be quite enough friction. She awkwardly tried to scrub her bare titflesh up and down on the pole. It was very uncomfortable, and slightly painful.

“Fuck, you’re useless,” Neil complained. “I’ll do it.”

He reached down and grabbed the ends of Phoenix’s tits roughly between his thumbs and the side of his pointer fingers, pulling them forward and inward to create as narrow a fucktunnel as possible. Phoenix couldn’t help but grimace and yelp at the discomfort... which was very helpful in getting Neil’s precum flowing, soon covering her chest in smears of lubey slime.

“C’mon, let’s keep this moving,” complained the other guy. “Stop hogging her.”

“Fine,” agreed Neil. He released Pheonix’s tits but gave one of them a harsh slap that caused Phoenix to yelp again, and left a red mark on the pale flesh. “Show us a striptease then, whore.”

Phoenix stood in front of them on the cold, clean tile floor. She took a deep, shuddering breath that caused the mens’ eyes to hone in with even more focus on her boobs. Her nipples were strainingly erect, almost painfully so. She wondered if this was anything like what a cow felt, waiting to be milked. Maybe she would find out if her lesbian cunt got flooded with sperm and her body reconfigured itself to make her a needy, milky, waddling breeding slut...

But she needed to strip. Teasingly. She had done such things for lovers before, and she tried to channel that energy. Forcing a coy smile, she started gyrating her hips, turning her body to show them all angles and to temporarily hide her already-bare boobs so they could be re-revealed later. She slowly worked her belt and started shimmying her deeply unsexy work pants down over the bottom hourglass of her hips.

“Damn, she’s really tattooed all over,” commented the second guy, as if Phoenix wasn’t there.

“Not quite,” retorted Neil. “Plenty of prime real estate on her ass and tits. What do you think we should put on her?”

“...’Rape me’?” the guy suggested, clearly straining his imagination.

“On which end?” Neil mused, as if seriously considering this proposal.

“Uhh... both?”

Phoenix wanted to object that her tattoos were personal self-expression and these random guys didn’t get a say in them, but Naveera’s ‘g’ answer echoed in her mind. Good girls didn’t argue with men.

In fact, she could get two of her penalties in at once! Proud of herself for her efficiency, Phoenix kept quiet and giggled. The two men laughed as well.

“Looks like she approves,” Neil smirked. “Let’s not keep her waiting.”

The men were efficient as well. They fucked her AND choked her on cock.

Afterward, her memories of the experience were fuzzy. Most of what she saw was the wiry pubic hair of the second man, as he re-brutalized her recently-abused throat. His male musk was similarly overwhelming. Despite the soreness, Phoenix was grateful again to Paige and her father for helping her get used to it. She was pretty sure a couple of other women came in as well, to pee or touch up tear-stained makeup, but they politely kept out of the way of the men dicking their prize on the cold tile floor.

And that was the sensation that overwhelmed Phoenix—being taken from behind by Keith. A gold-star lesbian, Phoenix would have thought that a cock wouldn’t feel much different from a strap-on or dong, but from the moment she felt it press against her pussy lips, she realized it was night and day. She felt wetness suddenly gush through her body, blood flowing so fast it made her dizzy. Her clit throbbed so hard it made her teary-eyed through her face-fucking.

It wasn’t that it felt GOOD. Phoenix was a lesbian—she didn’t enjoy sex with men. But obviously natural physical reactions were at work that made her tremble on her hands and knees, made her submit to the rough treatment as the men spanked her ass and mauled her swaying tits (her con badge bouncing between them), brought her to a shuddering full-body orgasm that felt like a cartoon electrical shock, electrifying her body down to her visible bones. She didn’t LIKE it. She knew that in her very core. But she also knew that her body was made for it. The tyranny of biology.

Was this why so many cishet women put up with shitty relationships with terrible men, she wondered? Because they were getting fucked into submission on the regular, and like addicts, couldn’t help but repeat their errors again and again, against their better judgement? The self-determination getting fucked out of them in proportion to the cum that was ejected into each of their holes?

Or was the feeling just extra strong right now because her whole throat was filled with throbbing cock, and she was, as promised, being fucked unconscious?

Her eyes rolled back.

Phoenix woke up to the feeling of the cold, hard bathroom floor, made colder by the puddles of liquid that she could feel all over her body. Cum, oozing out of her aching, brutalized snatch, and still a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. A little vomit, even more bitter, that she’d barely noticed herself throw up in the moment. It was a good thing she’d eaten so lightly today. Though that only made it easier to smell the piss that had apparently been the guys’ parting gift to their toy.

But there was also a pleasant sensation; a soft touch on her back. The gentleness of it almost made Phoenix cry; such a stark contrast to the rough treatment she’d just endured. It could only be feminine.

“You’re awake,” came a calm voice.

Phoenix lurched to her knees, saw through her bleary eyes the angelic form of Andi, crouching carefully in her clean store uniform, sharp brown face calm but quietly grim. She was holding a bunch of wet paper towels, that she’d been using to clean her lover off. Phoenix had never been more glad to see her. So beautiful and untouchable and smart, not like Phoenix, who was feeling filthy and used and confused and dumb. Now she began to cry in earnest, trying to lurch forward into her lover’s arms.

Andi took a step back, held up her hands. “Let’s get you cleaned up first,” she said.

As they wiped down Phoenix thoroughly, washed hair in the sink, and salvaged what clothes were usable (which turned out to be just her panties, nestled safely at the top of the pants she had stripped off in the pre-show; the pants themselves were a victim of the pooling liquid, and Phoenix had long since lost track of her shirt and bra), Phoenix babbled out everything that had happened to her. How she’d played games and it had started out fine but the D&D game’s vibes were weird and she’d ended up getting facefucked, how the convention people were disrespectful but when she’d tried to take charge of the situation she’d ended up getting fucked senseless in the women’s restroom. She was not sure she was properly conveying the thread of events, but Andi made the occasional affirmative noises of understanding.

“I... I don’t know what’s going on,” Phoenix concluded, as she stood in front of the mirror, blowing her nose and trying to finish crying.

Andi stood behind her now-cleanish lover and stroked her short wet hair tenderly. “It’s okay, Phoenix. I do.”

“You... do?” Phoenix asked, bewildered.

“Yes. It seems the of this gaming club are using some kind of supernatural ritual to turn women into dumb, impressionable sex toys. I’m almost certain that the men are, in turn, being primed to display misogynistic and sadistic traits.”

“What?” Phoenix asked, dumbly. That sounded crazy—she’d had a bad night, but what the hell was Andi talking about?

“I think we’re particular targets. Cliff has been keeping an eye on me on and off all night—waiting for this effect to kick in, as far as I can tell. He cornered me in my office earlier but I acted feverish and distressed. He laughed and said he’d see me again soon.”

“But...” Phoenix couldn’t grapple with any of that. “But what are we going to do?”

“Getting out would be difficult—they’re closed the store and are watching the doors, and I think there’s also some sort of compulsion to stay. We’re going a different route.”

“What are you talking about?” Phoenix started to cry again.

“Phoenix,” Andi said, meeting her eye. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Phoenix responded, wiping her tears. She raised herself up, feeling a little of her partner’s confident strength fill the drained, battered vessel of her soul. “With my life.”

“Good. I need you to distract Cliff for a little while. And anyone else around him.”

“How?” Phoenix asked, suddenly panicked. She was so weak and useless. She wasn’t a hero like her rogue character, and even her rogue had ended up doing nothing but taking cock in every hole. Imagining standing up to Cliff, or any of the men, or even standing up to them, made her heart clutch in the early stages of a panic attack. “I don’t think I can help, I’m... I’m so dumb and worthless.”

“It’s okay,” Andi soothed. “I just need you be an eager, degraded fucksleeve. Keep his attention on grinding the last bits of your dignity into the dust. Put on a show of being a former dyke begging to submit to cock. Do you think you can do that?”

Phoenix smiled in pure, blessed relief. That was okay. She could do it. She would do so good. She would be such a good girl for Andi. “I know I can.“

As Phoenix stepped gingerly down the stairs into the downstairs bar area, she felt like she was ing a threshold, like entering the final room of a JRPG dungeon, the set piece for the boss fight. The atmosphere was tense and oppressive.

All tournaments done, the long tables were now mostly surfaces for women to be laid across or bent over, as they were plunged in their most appealing holes. They were drooling, moaning, or crying out filthy misogynistic encouragement to their lovers. No, not lovers. If what Andi was saying was true, their rapists. They couldn’t truly consent. Phoenix felt a flush of arousal flood her body at the thought.

This was a welcome distraction from the pain. After helping clean Phoenix up, Andi had produced a handful of spare con lanyards that she’d pocketed. Using confident fingers, she had attached the metal alligator clips not to the plastic badge holders as they’d been designed for, but to Phoenix. Each of her nipples was being actively crushed by one, while long soft loops of fabric hung down and brushed against her skin like the world’s longest pasty tassels. Two more were hanging from her lower lip, pulling it downward into a stupid-looking pout. Her actual badge was still in place, but instead of letting it hang on the neck as intended, Andi had looped it through itself so that it clung close to Phoenix’s throat like a collar.

But what was really making Phoenix cringe and limp as she walked was the lanyard clipped to her clit. When Andi had deftly clipped that one on to her smooth pink nub, viciously crushing the spot she’d brought such pleasure to in the past, the explosion of localized pain made her try to yank it off, but Andi grabbed her arm and the pain had soon subsided into a more manageable ache, albeit one that occasionally sent jolts of agony back along her nerve network, especially when she walked.

The point had been to make her more of a distraction, and it worked. Male eyes turned to face the pathetic, hobbling tattooed slut as she progressed, the feminist’s pain an amusing diversion even for men balls-deep in other tight warm cunts.

Phoenix ignored them and honed in on Cliff, who was chatting amiably with a handsome black man with well-fitted clothes seated next to him. Those clothes were currently in disarray to reveal his muscular chest and to facilitate the activities of the trim black girl from the check-in booth, who was slowly and rhythmically riding his dick with her ass. She was bracing her wide-spread legs on the sides of the chain, and her arms against the gaming table beside her, raising then lowering herself down to the hilt with an audible schlorping sound. Based on how high she had to raise himself, this guy’s cock was immense, and must have been seriously rearranging her guts. Her eyes were practically rolling back in her head, but she maintained her pace with a trained precision. Her wide dark nipples looked hard as rocks, and when the man casually reached up to twist one, she let out an animalistic moan and increased her speed.

Cliff himself was standing, casual, fully-dressed, his left hand fingering the zipper on a duffel bag on the table next to him. His eyes occasionally flicked around the room with satisfaction, and soon locked on to Phoenix. She felt proud that this time she had drawn the man’s attention immediately. Andi really knew what she was doing.

“Ah, Ms. Phoenix, there you are,” Cliff greeted her. “Thanks again for helping us host this little event.”

“The clips are a nice touch,” the black man commented. He reached out and yanked a lanyard, which happened to be connected to Phoenix’s left tit. She stumbled to the side, but he calmly pulled it far enough out that her whole fatty tit was lifted up to the side. Phoenix whimpered, and he chuckled and let go of the tether.

“Well, these events hit everyone a little differently,” Cliff replied. “Looks like it’s inspired a little creativity in this one.” He raised his head to look around. “Is your little partner with you? I want to see how she’s coming along.”

Phoenix shook her head. The thought flashed through her mind of her brave, stoic Andi also brought low, stripped and bound side-by-side with her produced another flood of moisture to her lower regions. She felt weak at the knees, so she dropped to them.

“’Please,” she said with difficulty around her lip clips, then stopped, losing her train of thought. She was here for Cliff. Something about Cliff. She looked up at him. His close-cropped, greying beard seemed remote, inscrutable, and towering—like she was looking up at the face of God himself. She had to lower her gaze, which fell on the crisp lines of the seam of his crotch. Yes. That. There. She crawled forward on the carpeted floor. “’Please...”

Cliff reached down to gently caress her face, but then firmly pushed her away. “Oh, I’m looking forward to giving you what you deserve, but right now I have a convention to run. Maybe later, perhaps with your little bitch wife.”

“Don’t be shy, Cliff,” the black man encouraged him. “Fuck this slut into the dirt. You never let yourself have fun at these things.”

Cliff shook his head. “You go ahead, Trevor. You’re the best man for the job anyway, with that bitch breaker of yours.”

“Can’t argue there,” the man Trevor acknowledged. He lifted his current fuckdoll off his cock and none-too-gently dumped her on the floor. She moaned but otherwise lay still, the very picture of a discarded fuckhole, her gaping, hairless asshole starting to twitch as it attempted to recover from its abuse.

Now there were two gods above Phoenix. She had never before understood polytheism of the Greek or D&D style, but now she did. They might not be omnipotent, they might be arbitrary or cruel, but she understood now that the natural response to beings so far above oneself was worship and prostration. Submission to their wills.

But... but... she needed to change Cliff’s will now. She needed to distract him more, get him to concentrate fully on her. Because Andi had asked her to, and for other reasons that were just now clarifying themselves in her mind with a sudden, overwhelming clarity.

“No,” she pleaded. “Please, fuck me together. I need your cocks so fucking bad... please, Cliff, I mean, Master Cliff. I’m a fucking failure as a boss. I’m a pathetic scatterbrained whore and I’m supposed to be a feminist but I’m too weak, I’m not strong and smart and beautiful...” Not like Andi, she managed not to say, because she didn’t want them thinking about Andi who was hotter and better than her, she needed and wanted their full attention to justify her own existence, “I’m a worthless tattooed whore with dumb udders and holes.”

Standing, she started desperately tugging at the various lanyards hanging off of her, creating satisfying extra agony in her slut handles and cunt. “Hurt them more, please! I’m so sorry I’ve had my stupid fucking eyebrow pierced but not my tits. I’ll replace these clips with rings as soon as I can, I promise! I’ll decorate myself for you! Or just throw me out afterward but please, please just fuck me now!”

It was a bit of a floor show now, and she was clearly drawing attention from all around the room. Perhaps the well-domesticated women that these gamers had brought with them lacked some of the fire that Phoenix was currently exhibiting. That would make sense, because they were probably getting what they needed, and Phoenix wasn’t. She dropped one hand to rub her cunt. The clip gnashing her clit made it difficult to do so without pain, but she did anyway.

Cliff stood up, stepped up to her, but instead of her body, now completely inflamed with lust, he reached out and took her original lanyard, the one around her neck. “Desperate rape-toy,” he read. “Is that what you are, now?”

She nodded energetically.

“I don’t make a habit of listening to what cunts like you want,” Cliff told her, “but I must it I’ve had my eye on you for a while. You and your uppity partner both. Half the reason I set up this event was to get you two under me each worshiping one of my ball sacs.” He glanced around. “Where is she now?”

“You going to fuck this dyke or what?” Trevor asked, slightly impatient. “I don’t mind sharing if you’ll take her pussy. Maddie’s whore ass is getting loose anyway. I’m just about done with her.”

Cliff sighed and shook his head, the picture of good-spirited resignation. “Fine. It seems like we caught her just as she’s breaking, and it would be nice to see her face as it happens.”

Soon Phoenix found herself being lifted like a toy between the two surprisingly muscular middle-aged men. Several of her nearby irers jumped at the chance to in, one taking each of her arms and other hands grabbing her various dangling lanyards, pulling her tits and clit this way and that, the one wrapped around her neck choking her slightly.

She was facing Cliff, who removed one hand to gently stroke and position his growing red member at her pussy lips. She felt her body quiver. Cliff caught her eye, his usual pleasant smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. “Anything else you want to say before we start?” he asked.

Phoenix hesitated, thinking of the further apologies, the self-degradation, the pleading she could do. Then she realized her mistake. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” she responded.

He laughed. “Good answer.”

She felt his cock roughly position itself at her dripping cunt. It felt larger than the guys who had raped her before. Was this some kind of dragon-type thing? Did men’s dicks become bigger, harder, crueler weapons as they aged?

As he entered, Phoenix’s mouth opened wide, as if to scream, though she was unable to take a deep enough breath. The former cocks, as far as she could recall, had simply been unpleasant, warm fleshy that her sexuality shuddered at the intrusion of even as her body welcomed them. In contrast, Cliff’s cock hurt. Her cuntlips were forced open roughly, the muscles tearing beyond their comfort zone. The pain immediately overtook even the ache of her clipped and roughly-handled clit. Her body spasmed, though it was still held firmly in place by Cliff and his leering assistants.

Then Trevor found his way to her asshole, and the pain really started.

Fluffed back up to full erection by the mouth of the exhausted, broken young cocksleeve whose ass he’d just been fucking (and whose saliva provided just enough lubrication for him to get started), Trevor viciously forced his cockhead in the very opening of Phoenix’s puckered ass. This time Phoenix screamed, and struggled involuntarily. And ineffectually.

“Here we go,” Trevor grunted with satisfaction. “You wanted to see the moment this dyke breaks, Cliff? This is it.”

He wasn’t wrong. As Trevor pulled her down (and up, but mostly down) on his monstrous cock, Phoenix’s eyes rolled back in her head. The well of mental submission that she had been falling ever more deeply into was now matched by physical submission, her very body reshaped to be a pleasing vessel for this huge black cock, its momentary pleasure more important than her own pride, comfort, or even health.

As the two men found a steady rhythm, the presence of both their cocks invading her comparatively small body surely helping to stuff her insides even tighter, Phoenix almost did break. This wasn’t something that was happening just right now. It wasn’t a bout of temporary insanity or physical trauma that she could recover from with love and care, that could strengthen her in the long term. This was going on and on, and greasy gamers to the side were cheering her destruction inside the store that was the culmination of her professional adult life, and there was no coming back from it.

The only spark left in her soul was her faith in Andi, the love of her life, and that was such a minuscule, remote presence, fucked so deeply inside of her, that Phoenix forgot it existed.

Until Andi returned.

Not in time to save Phoenix from defilement, or anything. Cliff and Trevor had plenty of time to leisurely and cruelly plunge the holes of her ravaged body, cheered on by the loyal assistants hoisting her in the air. Most of the lanyard clips were ripped off from overeager tugging, but she was barely conscious of any feelings outside of her stretched and bleeding asshole and recently gold-star pussy.

In fact, not only had her holes been filled with club leader seed, but like lion alphas who had eaten the choice meat off an antelope carcass and now were throwing the scraps to their followers, Phoenix had been ed into the hands of the men who had helped hold her in place. An eager, greasy nerd hauled her onto the table and tried to fuck her tits while another, not squeamish about sloppy seconds, pulled up her legs and went at her oozing cunt. She soon found herself being triple-teamed as Dave, from the D&D one-shot, came around the table to lolling head and started to deeply fuck her throat with his long, thin, and exceptionally unwashed cock.

“Dude,” he said, “say you don’t consent again.”

She tried to mumble weakly, but under the circumstance it resulted in nothing but an “uuuuh” sound from deep in her choking throat, and the slight flutter of her lips and tongue across the base of his dick. He didn’t seem to complain. When he came, she did her best to swallow but instead coughed up most of his cum, which flowed down the top of her head into her eyes, her hair.

“Sweet,” he said in satisfaction, and she distantly felt him lift her collar-lanyard. Opening one cum-bleared eye, she made out that he was attaching a sportsmanship clip. Was this, too, a game? If so, apparently she was a good player. Or piece. She smiled slightly, and when the other men came over her chest and in her now well-raped pussy, it felt like victory.

“Excuse me.”

The voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a certain authority that made many present, including Cliff and Trevor, turn their heads. Even through her pain, exhaustion, and existential submission, Phoenix managed to raise her own eyes as well, because she knew that voice intimately.

Andi was standing by the connecting doorway between the bar space and the main gaming area, store outfit still crisp, the only fully-dressed woman in sight, staring at the scene of her lesbian partner’s gangrape for the second time that day with considerably more coolness and aplomb that Phoenix would have been able to muster had the situation been reversed. She was holding a duffel bag.

Cliff whirled around to look at the seat against the wall where he had left it, just in case she was holding an identical piece of luggage rather than the one he had brought with him. The spot was empty. He turned back to face Andi.

“What the fuck do you think you’re...” he began, his face starting to contort with fury.

“Could we talk privately?” she asked.

“Give that back, you fucking cunt,” Cliff demanded, starting to push a couple of startled beta nerds aside.

Andi hefted the bag slightly, bending her ear somewhat down toward it speculatively. For some reason, Cliff paused in his approach, staring at the item. “You said we would all be friends by the end of the day,” she reminded him. “Well, I’ve made one friend already.”

The two locked eyes, energy crackling between them.

“What does the bitch mean, Cliff?” Trevor asked, and there was a note of distinct menace in his tone. “Did you fuck this up?”

“Why don’t we talk in my office?” Andi repeated.

For a moment, it looked like Cliff was going to throw himself at the small brown woman (who must have been less than half his weight), rip the bag out of her hands, probably punch her in the face, tits, stomach, cunt until she was a crying, pissing piece of tenderized meat, broken and sobbing apologies even before her sexual torture began. Surely there would have been nothing she could do about it, even if he hadn’t been backed up by any number of other eager men.

But instead, his eyes slid down to the duffel bag again, and his rageful face set to a grim, if no less angry, line.

“See?” Andi said. “You’ve been taking it for granted, with this stale diet. It wants a little... change.”

“Fine,” Cliff said curtly. “Let’s go.” He and Trevor, who clearly took his own invitation for granted, strode past Andi as they all headed for her office. Phoenix gazed with pride at the departing form of Andi, flanked by two looming shirtless, hateful, powerful men, but showing no signs of intimidation, going to negotiate peace in the room where decisions were made, a room that Phoenix had used to share, but no longer belonged in. Andi had done it. Whatever she’d been trying to do, for whatever reason she’d directed Phoenix to serve as a distraction by drowning herself in submission and depravity, it must have worked.

The men who had been assisting Cliff and Trevor glanced at each other, shrugged. Events were beyond them, but they had games to play.

“Hey, dyke,” said one. He handed her his beer bottle. “Shove this up your cunt and come suck me off. It’ll be a while until I get hard again, but we’ve got plenty of time.”

Phoenix slowly dragged her aching body to comply. She was exhausted, but she could face anything now. Andi had saved her, and what was a beer bottle up the cunt in the face of a well-earned win?

Countercon’s closing ceremonies took place in the main gaming area, the one normally open to the floor of the store—a natural choice, since it had the largest capacity. As the participants assembled, Phoenix looked out over her carefully stocked shelves, low to the ground to promote a sense of openness on the floor. The front doors were locked up, the store having closed early. Phoenix wondered who had done it—it was Sprite’s turn today, but they were leaning back against the display case by the checkout , covered in cum and body writing. Phoenix could just make out some especially large labels of “rape bitch” above their bruised tits, and “free-use cunt” pointing down at her leaking nethers. Phoenix wondered if Sprite had experienced any revelations today about their gender. It was funny how fluid sexuality could be.

First came prizes. The major one was the overall con champion, for having the most total event points. The winner was Frank, who had apparently crushed his opposition in Infinity then moved on to win various other shorter, lower-point events, all while maintaining an unfailingly sportsmanlike demeanor. For his display of dominance, he was given the gift of one of the “fresh meat” as his personal slave, and he chose Naveera, whose coltish frame and dark skin made her stand out among the busty white girls who made up most of the club’s hip. Naveera, glowing with pride, came shyly up to the front to stand next to her new owner, fall to her knees, and earnestly suck his thick white cock with her pouty lips, to general applause. It was good to see her looking so self-confident.

Phoenix wondered what would have happened if a woman had won the con, then giggled to herself. That was silly. Women couldn’t beat men. Except one.

Andi was announced as the CHWS’s new Outreach Coordinator, a newly-created board position that had just been created behind closed doors. Cliff announced this to the assembled gamers with a smile on his face and a cold, stony look in his eyes, to the furrowed confusion of the rank-and-file hip and the outrage of most of the rest of the board. (Only Trevor, huge and crisp in his tailored suit, seemed to be gazing at the small Indian woman with speculative approval.)

Andi had stood up and said a few words of acceptance, looking forward to getting to know the community better, etc., etc. Meanwhile Phoenix had been on her knees eagerly licking Andi’s cunt. Phoenix appreciated that this was a shrewd political move, because it softened the men’s understandable resistance to a woman assuming authority by turning it into a lez-out show for their entertainment. All she was wearing now was her collar-lanyard, which Andi authoritatively held the end of. Phoenix closed her eyes and felt the warmth of Andi’s thighs as she lapped and sucked. It was a familiar, comfortable place, a job she was good at, and Phoenix let herself be pulled around whenever Andi moved, diving right back in. Every once in a while she felt someone spank her, grab one of her hanging tits, kick her playfully. She thought she was referred to ocassionally as a “dyke slut” or such. She let it all wash over her. She was in her happy place. With her beloved.

Phoenix looked out with pride at the busy aisles and tables of Champion Games. She had rarely seen the place more hopping. Since Countercon had been such a success, the CHWS folks had taken quite a liking to the place—more spacious, better-ventilated, and with beer on tap. Phoenix understood that renovations were in the pipeline for the CHWS club space, that Mr. Mason was buying out the rental leases for the rest of the stores in the block. She didn’t know the details, though. When he and Andi had met up in person to talk over those plans, Phoenix had been very busy making out with the man’s newest secretary slave around his massive black cock and heavy balls. And later licking his ass. And later getting punished by Andi for not licking Mr. Mason’s ass well enough.

The old regulars seemed happy with the infusion of new blood, too. The middle-school TCG players had been coming in a lot more lately. They were currently distracted from their game, staring at Naveera, who was following demurely behind Frank as he studiously compared the shades of Vallejo and Citadel paints. That was good, because she’d been putting such care into her appearance lately—including s, heavy makeup that highlighted the poutiness of her dark lips, hair in two grabbable, slutty pigtails, and a collar that read “whore,” and of course a tiny tank top and shorts that went well beyond the bounds of modesty and were wrestling with legality.

They had lost a few customers as well, of course—the last time Phoenix had seen Joscelyn and Mary, they had complained of verbal harassment by some of the CHWS guys, and called the new store uniforms “degrading.” But Phoenix didn’t let that bother her. Inclusivity was important in the store, and if some dumb bitches couldn’t be tolerant of misogynists who had different values than them, then that was their problem.

Besides, Phoenix liked the new uniforms. (And also men liked the new uniforms, which was the main thing.) She glanced down at her buttoned green tube top, strapless and held up by the curve of her chest. It was far more comfortable than the scratchy, hot old top. Same went with the miniskirt. It was such a waste that she’d spent all this effort decorating her body with tattoos, but covered up so many of them! Right now the only ones that people couldn’t see were the tasteful, and still-healing, “Property of Andi” labels on her left tit and asscheek (Though she had needed to show them to men more than once when they were being too grabby without her owner’s permission). She was glad she’d gotten a lower-back tattoo years ago too, though she worried that men wouldn’t understand the meaning of abstract floral design there. Maybe adding “dyke cocksleeve” or something just above it would help clarify.

The tattoos weren’t the only new body modifications still healing. It would still be weeks or months until the new studs through her nipples and labial hood were safe from infection and could be replaced with pull-rings so that people could hurt her better when she was being a bitch. Phoenix took mental inventory of her various aches, adding to the list the discomfort of the butt-plug that the store miniskirt was just long enough to cover. No doubt they would all feel better with time. Change was always hard.

For some more so than others. Phoenix smiled as she saw Sprite limp gingerly down from the upstairs area towards the staff room for their break, having just finished a shift upstairs. She was proud of Sprite, really. They had struggled with some of the changes to their duties, but really, it had only made sense to convert some of the private game rooms upstairs into by-the-hour sex rooms, and what if a man was visiting without their own private cumdump? The store needed slaves to rent out, and everyone with a pussy and tits needed to step up to the plate, regardless of gender. (All under the table, of course, but those who needed to know, did.) When it had come down to losing their job or accepting their new duties, Sprite had come around. The brutal gangrape Andi had organized when they’d started getting uppity had helped break them in, too.

“Hi, Phoenix!”

Phoenix turned to the pleasant sight of Paige, looking vibrant in an extremely low-cut black top, matching high leggings, and a bright pleated skirt in between. They made out for a bit in greeting (and to entertain nearby men, always important) but when Paige’s hand snaked up her side to aim for Phoenix’s nipple, she had to pull away. “New piercings,” she said apologetically.

“Oh, right,” Paige said, stepping away.

“So what brings you to the store?”

“I wanted to drop in to say goodbye before I head off to college,” Paige announced. “I’m moving tomorrow—dorm housing.”

“Good for you!” Phoenix exclaimed in surprise, beaming with pride towards her younger queer sister.

“Yeah, I was all ed, but there was this whole thing about whether my dad would let me go after all.”

“What changed his mind?”

“Well, partly that I promised to make friends and bring back the hottest coed I can each year, as a club recruit.” Phoenix nodded—fair enough. Paige continued quietly, so only Phoenix could hear. “But you helped too, you know. He said that since Andi is willing to whore you out, he’ll still be able to fill an uppity dyke cocksleeve with cum, even when I’m away.”

Phoenix felt touched. “Aww, I’m so glad I was able to help! I think we’ve made a really special place here, and it’s great that some of the board are starting to appreciate what Andi brings to the table. Like my lezzie rapeholes.” She felt her cuntlips moisten pleasantly at the thought. She still wasn’t attracted to men. That’s what made it so sexy to be degraded by them. For both her and them.

The two laughed, exchanged a few other pleasantries, and parted ways with another quick make-out session. Then suddenly, through the low-level pain and horniness that fogged her mind, it struck Phoenix that this was wrong. All wrong. She needed help. She needed to talk to Andi.

Phoenix knocked gingerly on the door to the office.

“Come in,” Andi replied.

Phoenix entered, head bowed. Andi was at her still-spartan desk. Her laptop was open, but she wasn’t looking at it; she was staring into space, absently stroking the professional-looking briefcase that she carried with her at all times now. Phoenix knew that it held whatever had formerly been in Cliff’s bag, which she now had custody of. (Phoenix had asked what that thing was, once. ‘Not a thing,” Andi had replied. ‘Just a piece of a thing. Enough to talk to.’ Then she had whipped Phoenix’s tits until her vision had gone white, because Phoenix needed to learn her place and stop asking questions.)

“Andi,” Phoenix said piteously. “I made out with Paige. Twice.”

Andi didn’t look at her. “Did anyone tell you to?”

“No.”

“For your own pleasure?”

“I guess...”

Andi let out a long-suffering sigh. “You dumb fucking whore. You’re just as bad as the men,” she complained. “Always thinking with your little head. It’s Bryan’s business if he wants to be lax with Paige, but you know better. Your cunt isn’t for your own pleasure. Ever.” Phoenix whimpered. Now-familiar mantras of self-degredation ran through her head, as she thought about what a worthless dumb horny set of holes she was, fit only to be used up by violent men and thrown in the trash with cum and blood leaking from every hole for having the temerity to do something that made her feel good.

She was about to babble out some of those thoughts in a stream of penitence when suddenly, Andi met her eyes and smiled, shaking her head. “It’s a good thing you’re such a cute bitch,” she concluded, affectionately. Phoenix flushed with relief that Andi wasn’t angry, and bone-deep gratification at the compliment. Making Andi smile was the greatest thing in the world.

“Now go.” Andi nodded her head toward the other end of the small room, then turned to type something on her computer. (Andi was so good at switch-tasking. She had taken over all of Phoenix’s former istrative duties with apparently little effort.)

Phoenix lowered herself and carefully backed herself into the dog cage that sat where her desk had used to be, wiggling to get the permanently-installed replica dog dick deep into her cunt. Luckily she was wet, as she usually was, but she still grunted as she worked her way over the knot. Once it was in place, Andi walked over, kneeled, and firmly inserted a dick-shaped gag down Phoenix’s throat, latching it behind her head and then locking the cage.

“We’ll still punish you later, of course,” Andi added, still smiling. “You may be worthless, but we’ll make a decent slave out of you yet. No matter how long it takes to break you completely. You’re mine forever.”

Around her gag, Phoenix whined gently with love. What had she done to deserve being owned by such a wonderful mistress? Really, Phoenix was the luckiest woman in the world.

She mentally corrected herself. Luckiest cunt in the world. Identity labels were important, after all.