And Other Duties As Required Ch. 05-07

Throughout my entire career I'd trained my voice to be low and intimidating and powerful. This was like driving somebody else's car.

If this was just about singing, just about hitting the right notes, then I think I'd have been fine. But these songs were cutesy and girly and bubbly. I had to smile wide to cram just the right amount of rainbow and sunshine into each note, all while still nailing the rhythm and melody.

Somehow it too left me panting for breath. I shuddered at the thought that we'd probably have to put this and the dancing together soon enough.

Our last appointments for the day were etiquette lessons and a check in with our manager. We weren't important enough for them to come to us, so we had to hustle five blocks to an office building to meet up with them. This meant a shower and a change of clothes.

The shower room was practically an afterthought on the old building. It was three showers built into a recessed section of the changeroom. It left zero privacy and, frankly, was a little creepy, but it was better at least than showering at a public facility with all sorts of strangers walking past.

I changed quickly and stepped into the shower, blushing as the girls stripped down behind me, minding my own business and trying to resist the masturbatory urges the hot water seemed to invite. Steam fogged the mirrors. I turned away, not out of respect or a sense of propriety, but out of fear that to look would drive me over the edge. My simmering nymphomania, which had settled to a dull background roar, boiled at just the thought of the three of us naked together in the shower.

I couldn't help but steal a glance. What harm could one look do? I wished I hadn't.

Min had an arm wrapped possessively around Meiling's hip as the two of them stepped under a shower head, their naked flesh pressing together as hot water poured over them. Soon, wet, soapy hands sloshed over wet, soapy skin, scrubbing, probing, finding their way into every tender crevice. Soft moans and little giggling gasps fluttered over the pounding of the water and the beating of my heart.

I looked away. Was this really happening?

"What's the matter Miki?" Min gave me a wink as Meiling kissed along her neck. "Don't you want to join in?"

"I-" I blushed, "I'm almost done!" This was more of Madeline's tricks; I was sure of it. More of her temptations. I rushed to finish lathering up my body, but the soft hands running over my body just brought my aching desire all the more to the fore. I bit a lip and tried not to whimper as my stiff horny nipples humped desperately against my loofa. I whimpered. At least the hot water hid the sheer liquid need dripping from my soft steamy pussy.

Though I didn't dare turn back, my brain and ears were more than happy to fill in the missing details. Lurid fantasies of those two girls dissolving into sloppy sapphic makeouts, their sopping wet tits rubbing creamy soap into their nubile athletic bodies, Meiling giving a sharp cry as Min's hand found its way south of her belt, a predatory glint her eye as she -

I jumped as I turned the shower to cold.

The icy water did little to dissuade the raging inferno of my lust, but it was enough to snap me out of it just long enough to extricate myself from the shower.

I barely even dried off as I rushed to get dressed, eyes fixed firmly on the wall and wishing for all the world that I could somehow drown out those sweet lilting cries, my imagination tempting me worse than even the sight of the two of them in the flesh. I had to physically restrain my hand from snaking down my skirt as I finished and stepped out into the hall.

There, alone, I could resist no longer.

Back to the wall, skirt pulled up around my waist, I found myself once again gasping for breath as my hand dove into the boiling depths of my needy snatch, making oh-so-good on all of the promises my imagination had made.

I bit my lip as a day's worth of pent-up frustrations finally started working their way through my system.

But alas...

"Miki? Everything okay?" Meiling's voice perked up as the two of them stepped out some minutes later. I pulled my hand away and put on an innocent smile. I wasn't fooling anybody. All I had done is make myself hornier and leave soaking what had been a fresh pair of panties.

Still, we picked up afterwards without missing a beat. No one said a word about the lesbian tryst in the shower. Had it even really happened? Or had my own horniness been so overwhelming that I'd imagined the whole thing?

The memory had already started to fade as we stepped into the brisk chill of the night air. I took a deep breath to clear my head. It was like a soothing balm to my aching lungs. Before us the lights of the city sparkled. It was beautiful.

We were all fashionably dressed. It was our duty, after all, as Idols, to look good. God, the other girls embodied it so perfectly. They were the epitome of grace and style, and here I was struggling to even walk in Miki's short little skin-tight pencil-skirt and her stiletto heels. They looked like models, I looked like a whore. With the way my tits hung out of this blouse, lord knows I felt like one.

Where had the day gone? I was a day closer to the handshake and no close to figuring out a way out of this. I'd been so caught up in fighting for my life trying to be Miki that I hadn't had the time. Was this, too, part of Madeline's plan? To keep me busy? Distracted?

I had known, on some intellectual level, that being an idol was hard. I'd been managing them my whole career, after all. But their pain had always felt so distant. To be living this life first hand, it was something else entirely. Maybe... maybe if I had known, I would have been better to my girls. More sympathetic.

I frowned. I couldn't deny the revelation, but the fact that it was exactly what Madeline seemed to want to teach me left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I looked out at the dark streets as we walked past. Why was I doing this? Why was I playing this game? It would be so easy to just turn down one of these roads and lose myself. All I had to do was run. I could escape, I could hide, I could plot my revenge and find a way to fight back. I could show that bitch once and for all what I thought of her games and her threats.

The memory of that pervert's hand grasping my skirt in the alleyway bobbed to the surface.

On second thought - I pushed in closer to the girls - maybe it was best to stick together for now.

Meiling put her arm around me. The warmth of her presence a strange source of security and comfort in the scantily-clad cold. As a man I would never have taken such solace. Stoic resolve, that's what being a man was all about. But I wasn't exactly a man right now, was I? Water welled unwanted to my eyes. It was a sharp femininity that here, in my moment of greatest weakness, my moment of greatest struggle, I was just grateful that I didn't have to go at it alone.

I leaned into her, blinking away the tear. I didn't want it messing up my eyeliner.

The elevator dinged as we stepped out into the office. The etiquette lessons were short - only an hour. Not really a focus. Etiquette and acting lessons were something most idols benefited from. Regardless of their specialty, Idols had to be taught to handle interviews and to always be on. On top of that, a lot of girls struggled with shyness, and some, well, they just didn't like people. That was fine - we didn't discriminate when hiring - but we needed them to pretend that they did.

Whoever was managing our schedules evidently considered the coming concert a higher priority than the handshake. I frowned. They weren't wrong to do so, but it did me little good - I intended to be long gone by then. For me, learning how to deal with people as Miki needed to be my priority.

Handshake events were relatively casual. The fan comes up and spends about fifteen seconds talking, hands are shook, and then the next person in line steps up. It's hard to really screw up. It's more about keeping a poker face and staying in character even when dealing with the more extreme personalities.

We sat down and waited for our instructor to arrive. I had hoped that my years in a socially aggressive business would help. I thought at least this would be some nice easy relief for my aching muscles. How wrong I was.

Etiquette as a man, it turns out, is very different from etiquette as a woman.

"Thank you all so much for your support!" I beamed, forcing as much girlish glee into my voice as my aching throat could manage. "We wouldn't be here without you!"

"Again!" he barked. That domineering man who was our instructor. "Make me believe it!"

Respect. That's what it meant to men. Shoulders square, chin up, look them in the eyes. hold yourself with dignity and confidence.

As a woman it was the opposite. Be weak, diligent, acquiescent. It was a coy and demure deference. Guide and suggest, don't state. Sweet sugary girlhood, how strange it tasted, how out of character it was for me.

Not that wanting a girl to go against her natural character had ever stopped us. We tried to line people up into roles that suited them when we were assembling groups - it saved a lot of time - but sometimes we had to make do with what we had. If that meant putting a sweet girl in the roll of a punk because it matched the group dynamic better, then so be it. Acting your role was a part of being an idol.

And now, it was my job - my life.

I had known all this time that something like this was likely coming, but putting it all into practice was something different entirely.

The role of Miki was that of the junior member. Younger, a little bratty, a little immature. Not as proper as Meiling, not as cool as Min. It was as far from my masculine stoicism as I could have gotten. I had to be quirky and spontaneous and parade emotions across my face. I had to be cute. I had to be vulnerable. If I wasn't so exhausted, I'd have been furious. I wanted to scream.

I had to keep reminding myself that if putting up with this sexist ass of an instructor and being Miki was what it took to be able to get out of all this, then that's what I needed to do. That's who I would be. As much as it ground against the gut of my soul, this was the role I had to master, and that meant practice.

And practice we did. We practiced in front of a full-body mirror over and over. I realized all too quickly how far I had to go. What I thought had been a charming smile was anything but. It was aggressive and confrontational. I had to develop new body language, new expressions. Each one took me one step further from the man I was - the face I had once known. And yet, despite my exhaustion, despite my contempt for the subject and this man teaching us, I was an eager student. This was important. This is what I needed to know.

And here - I sighed - it came at the end of the night when I could barely focus.

My attempted smile turned into a frown and then a sneer. I was too fucking sexy. No matter what I tried I just couldn't drive the horny edge off of my face. That stupid half-lidded smoulder seemed baked into my every expression. Every glimpse I gave carried with it the implication of carnal want, an unspoken invitation to take me and fuck me senseless. Was this something Madeline had done? Resting slut face? Or was I really just that undisguisedly horny?

I hated this. I missed my face, my relaxed confidence. I missed not having to police my every action.

And despite my best efforts I kept clashing with our instructor. There was just something about him that put me on edge. He was a broad-shouldered man, tall and forceful. Like a wolf he kept striking at my weak points and tearing me down to raise himself up. I sneered. His kind were a dime a dozen in this industry. I'd dealt with men like him all my life, but they had always backed down when I growled. This man did not.

Of course he didn't. I wasn't an alpha male. I was nothing to him. A disobedient idol. Another girl to be used and broken, to be punished for not submitting to his tall, muscular authority. I took a sharp breath. Why was there something so thrilling about the idea of breaking myself upon him?

Thank god we finished before I got the chance.

The evening wrapped up with a check in with the manager. The four of us squeezed into his office as he went over the apparent success of the recent shoot and how important the upcoming events were.

It soon became apparent that the man was an idiot. I had been on the other side of that desk once, I knew how a manager was supposed to handle girls like us. He seemed to care more about us all getting along, us all being friends, than he did about us being successful. Our happiness should have been a secondary concern.

Worse, this man had been my subordinate. I had trusted him; I had thought better of him. I should have wanted to scream, to take all of my frustrations out upon him, but honestly, I was so exhausted that at this point, I barely cared. I just nodded my head and smiled.

Soon my mind began to wander, and then my eyes. He was an idiot, but a handsome idiot. Broad shoulders, charming smile, big hands...

I hated that I noticed. But as I sat there stewing in a day's worth of accursed chastity, all I could think about was how well his tailored shirt clung to his chiseled form. God, I wondered how it would feel to run a hand along those steely, powerful muscles. I wondered how it would feel to have the firmness of him pressing against my soft flesh. His voice was deep and calming. I could curl up and sleep to it.

My breathing grew deep. I wriggled in my seat. Now that I no longer had something to distract me, it was like the whole day had caught up to me all at once. I was sore and I was exhausted and I was fed up, but above all else I was horny. Was this a new wave of desire, or had the last one never really gone away? I couldn't even tell anymore. It was like the constant roar of the ocean to someone who lived on the coast.

Valiantly, I resisted as best I could. But it was one thing to resist when you're in the middle of a dance practice, moving around in front of others, your mind set on other things, and another altogether when all you can do is sit and stew, when every second dragged past longer than the last.

My leg bounced as I tapped my high-heeled foot. I couldn't hold back any longer.

"Excuse me." I stood up; hand held up in apology. Meiling shot me a worried look. "Bathroom. I'll be right back."

I pushed into the empty women's room. No one was here, thank god. This late we probably had the whole building to ourselves. The door hadn't even swung closed in the time it took me to tug up the hem of my tight little pencil skirt.

I leaned over, one hand resting on the sink for support as the other battled the savage hyper-sexual itch burning in my pussy. My fingers dove deep into my tender folds, plunging depths I didn't know I had. No warmup, no foreplay, none was needed.

"Ah-" my knees quaked. "Fuck."

I had intended to splash myself with cold water, to cool off the fire burning within my blood, but fuck. I had needed this so badly. I was like a smoker taking a puff after a long day. Just a little couldn't hurt, could it?

My slick vulva squelched as my fingers pumped out and then slid back home. Hot breaths gasped from my lungs. I shook, my little bell of euphoria ringing like the tower of a burning church as I throttled it with my thumb. All of the pain faded away as ancient biological systems found untapped reserves of energy for this most primal and sacred of tasks.

I shivered as my other hand found its way beneath my bra, into that narrow corridor between my already straining bra and the encroaching glaciers of flesh that were my heavy tits. My nipples, ruby-hard, ached against the fabric, ached in longing and loneliness and sheer desperate need. I squeezed, I pinched, I rolled them between my fingers.

My poor boobs had been abused all day. All that bouncing and jiggling as they'd been squeezed tight by my sports bras had taken their toll. I pulled down my brasier, buttons ripping from my blouse as my tits swung free. Freedom never felt so good.

I squeezed tighter, massaging away some of the tension. These things were such a pain and yet - fuck - and yet I'd put up with any amount of pain if it meant I could feel this good. Oh god.

I tried to focus on the image of the girls that had been getting me all hot and bothered all day, tried to relive that moment in the shower, but my mind kept drifting back to that handsome idiot of a manager. My eager body couldn't help but remember that monstrous dildo buried in me yesterday, how good and how full it had felt. Shit, my tiny fingers, as blissfully precise as they were, had nothing on that. I humped helplessly at my hand. Just how good would it feel to get fucked for real?

What would it feel like if these were a real man's hands on my body? Rough hands, large hands. How would it feel if it was him taking his pleasure, him using me and mauling my tits, while he plunging my darkest depths with his body-breaking monster cock? Oh god.

Sparks of orgasmic electricity shook through me like pins and needles as I translated my androphilic fantasy onto my body. I should have been repulsed by this newfound boylust, horrified. But honestly? I barely even noticed. My eyes rolled up into the back of my head as I bucked my hips with renewed intensity. I was already lost to the pleasure.

My legs spread wider as my imagined lover bent me over, fingers burying deep, a come-hither motion massaging that sensitive cluster of nerves at the roof of my vaginal cavity - a man like him would know just the right way to use me, just the right way to make me feel good, my body would be his instrument and my rapture his music.

I pulled my blouse down lower, tits swinging free, hands searching, seeking, pillaging. Nails like pink diamonds traced roughly over my soft fleshy tits while my other arm raided more fertile lands. Every inch of me was alive with sensation.

My gasps turned to screams as a day's worth of horny frustrations built up to a crescendo, a lilting, unmistakable cry. I had just begun and already I was close - so close - to finally getting that blissful mind-blanking relief I knew this body capable of. It was like a sneeze building up in the back of my nose. Just a little bit more and -

"Miki! Again!?"

I whimpered as Meiling stepped in. My whole body turned red in humiliation, but I couldn't bear to pull out. The part of me mortified to be caught was completely overwhelmed by that much larger, needier part of me that just had to fucking cum.

And yet... and yet it was no good. I squirmed and I struggled and I cried like the pathetic bitch that I was, but it was gone. The moment had passed. I sobbed and stomped a foot. I hadn't even been hiding it - hadn't even been in a stall. The place reeked of my overflowing cunt.

"Jesus, girl," Meiling giggled. "Save some of that sweet pussy for tonight."

"W-what?"

She stepped towards me, an uncharacteristically hungry look in her eyes. She took my hand and pulled it out from between my dripping legs like the drawing of Excalibur.

"I said..." her voice was a husky whisper. "Save some for tonight."

She put the fingers to her mouth and licked them clean. I shivered. I melted. I fell to my knees.

And just like that, she checked her makeup in the mirror, blew me a little kiss, and was gone.

I trembled. My world swam. Had she been a dream too? A vision? Had I finally fucking lost it?

What the hell was I doing? I shook my head. Had I really been so close to cumming to the thought of some man? I closed my eyes to catch my breath. The revulsion had returned, but it was weak, an intellectual echo of what I thought I should be feeling rather than what I actually was. I was more alarmed at the foreignness of the thoughts than the thoughts themselves.