And Other Duties As Required Ch. 08-10

Was it any wonder that everybody was staring? No one had paid us much mind before - everybody seemed to treat us like we were normal no matter what Madeline had done - but today we were the center of attention. Wait, I frowned, was this her doing? Had she pulled back the wool over their eyes so that they could recognize us for the whores we were? Or were these girls just that much more eye catching than me?

"Oh my god!" came a voice from behind us. "Aren't you the Love Hearts Trio? Could I - could I shake your hands?"

I turned. My pulse spiked. A man.

Mmm, and what a man. Tall, well dressed, middle aged. His face was nothing special, but that didn't matter. He was holding a briefcase. A lawyer? Accountant? Whatever he was, he had shoulders that could span a chasm. I bit my lip then furrowed my brow. There was something about him that seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Officially, there are protocols to follow if an idol gets greeted by a fan on the street. See, most fans will recognize that you're just trying to go about your day and respect that. But for those that approach and engage, there are a few things to remember. First, keep in character, obviously. Second, take a bit of time to show that you respect the fan and appreciate their support. Shake their hand and make small talk, but keep the topic light or plug your upcoming events. Don't spend too much time with them and don't get too serious. Keep it casual. The last thing you want is for other fans to get jealous.

You can imagine my surprise then when he whipped out his dick. His long, pulsing, musky dick.

Deja-vu washed over me. I recognized that dick. He'd been at the handshake last night. I whimpered. Was - was this going to be an ongoing thing? Was this just a part of my life now? I sucked cock instead of shaking hands?

My breath drew short and my blood pounding through my veins. That all-too familiar fire flared within me, burning away the core of my reason and threatening to leave me little more than a yearning hole begging to be filled. But no, I couldn't do this. Not here. Not now. Maybe- maybe I could pull him into an alleyway and fuck him there?

I turned to look aghast at the girls, but they had beaten me to the punch.

"Oh hi!" said Meiling, dropping politely to her knees. One of her hands wrapped itself delicately around that turgid flesh. "Always nice to meet a fan."

Min dropped too, a hand holding her heaving chest to keep it from spilling out as her other found itself fondling his balls.

This was not proper protocol.

My hand clenched into a fist. My breath was short and hot. I couldn't believe this was happening. What the hell were they doing?

Those bitches were stealing all the cock.

I dove in after them, knees pressing to cold concrete as I pulled down my tube-top to give me something to compete against Min with.

I don't know why I was all of a sudden so desperate. Well, okay, he was a man. He was broad-shouldered and well-hung, with - fuck - with balls like ripe eggs. But it's not like I was going crazy for just everybody on the street. I certainly hadn't been about to fall to my knees and run my tongue along the underside of his head. Not in public, at least.

Was this just what the sight of cock did to me? No. It was more than that. There was just something about the idea of these other girls, kneeling in front of him, that just made me want to throw them aside and show them how it was done.

And I damn well did just about that. The three of us warred over him, each trying to top the last as we slurped and stroked and put on a gasping, needy little show.

"Hey guys, check it out! Idols!" A crowd had gathered to watch us, several of them sporting juicy erections of their own. Was this normal now? Did people just suck dick in the street? Or was it a special privilege just for us? I could here cameras flashing. I held my fingers up in a peace sign and blew my audience a sloppy little kiss.

Okay, I couldn't deny I loved the attention.

The man's bountiful cum cooled on our faces as we finished the walk to the office. Meiling was scooping it off of her cheek and feeding it to Min, who had gotten the least of it. I was hungrily sucking as much of it off my own face as I could.

"All I'm saying," Min slurped a sticky finger, "is that his balls were positively churning. I could feel it. And everybody knows that playing with a guy's balls is how you make him cum the hardest. That's just a fact. A fat load like this clearly means I must have done the best."

"Yeah, but you barely even touched the shaft, Min." I crossed my arms over my chest. Was she really trying to take all the credit for this?

"So?" she laughed "Don't underestimate balls, rookie. Some guys - the ones with big swinging golf-ball sized nuts - they can get off just by playing with them."

"Can they?" Meiling's mind was already wandering to ball-filled fantasies.

"Of course." Min gave a confident nod and a smirk. "Though I mean, guys can get off to anything if the girl doing it is skilled enough."

"I think he only really started getting into it though when I started doing that thing with my fingers." Meiling demonstrated her double-twist flutter technique in the air in front of her. "I'm sure that had at least something to do with it."

These skanky bitches! I had been the one with his dick in my mouth. I had been the one licking and sucking around the head. That's the most sensitive part! I had been the one to push him over the edge. I huffed. I'd have gotten more than just the tip too, but those two had been so greedy with it. What ever happened to teamwork?

We made sure to reapply our makeup before etiquette training. I'm sure these girls were fine walking in a jizz-stained mess, but I, at least, wanted to look good.

Honestly, the etiquette lessons had become this whole weird thing. It had been a struggle, but I had come to terms with my simmering hate-lust for our instructor, that arrogant wannabe alpha-male. At this point I really just couldn't deny that I found his uber-masculine bravado and derogatory confidence agonizingly arousing. His confidence just set off these deep primal urges inside me. An ancient drive to be dominated, to procreate and to be bred. Fuck.

That did not, however, mean that I liked it. If anything, it meant I could recognize it for what it was: another bullshit desire put into my head by Madeline. An impulse to be ignored and fought against. And yet, with how today had been going, I fully expected to spend the next two hours with him bending us over a table and pounding his fat babies into our fertile little wombs.

I was left sadly disappointed.

His classes for us today focused around flirtation and seduction - as though we needed the practice. It somehow just seemed to make things worse. Here we were, having to play coy as we begged and pleaded and competed for his attention when we knew all too well he'd fuck us at the drop of hat if he had the excuse. That was probably the worse part - we were throwing ourselves at him and he did nothing to reciprocate.

His big alpha dick was the one thing this ass had going for him and here he was keeping it all to himself. It pissed me off so badly. You know what? The less said about it the better.

Needless to say, by the time our final appointment of the day rolled around it was hard to believe that I had woken up sated. I was whimpering for satisfaction. Had I not spent all day getting fucked by Madam's dildo and masturbating? Did that not count?

Meiling let out a long sigh. The girls were feeling it too.

Surely our manager was going to fuck us, right? Fuck. At this point I just needed a man's dick inside me so bad. Oh sure, the strap on had been huge and those fingers had known just where to press, but they lacked the je ne sais pas of a real cock, of knowing I was driving a man wild. I frowned. Come to think of it, I hadn't experienced that particular sensation either, had I? I still hadn't been fucked. Not for real. Shit, that just made it worse. Oh, but I could imagine. It would be so good. I'd be so good. Fuck. Those men didn't know what they were missing.

Alas, our visit with the manager was just as mundane as ever. He thanked us for our work at the handshake, told us the numbers, and went over projections for the concert and how excited everybody was, how this could be a huge break for us if everything went well.

I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop - for that sexy twist - but nothing.

I'm sure we must have made quite the sight to an outsider: three horny, nymphomaniac beauties trying to sit still as this rich-voiced hunk went on about figures and training plans. It was like a porno waiting to happen. I'm sure somewhere Madeline was laughing.

About twenty minutes in, Meling stood and excused herself. Min joined suit a few minutes later.

I realized with painful abruptness that I was all alone with a man. With this man.

My face flushed red as he poured his attention on me. He wasn't trying to ravish me, sure, but maybe I could do something to fix that? How hard could it be to just lean in and seduce him? To drive him wild with carnal temptation until his blood boiled over and the next thing he knew he had me pinned against the wall, pounding all of his pent up frustration into the boiling kettle of my well-trained cunt? What would it be like when the girls returned to see that I had gotten what they had only desired? I smiled. Maybe after he was done with me, they could join in and-

"So, what do you think?"

"Huh?" I blinked. Shit, what?

"About the new backup dancers?" he leaned in, a gentle smile shining from beneath the deep wells of his soulful blue eyes. "You know it really does speak highly of you girls that Miss Martin is getting so involved in this event."

"I-" Steam poured out my ears. I jumped out of my seat. I had to get out of here. If I didn't do something soon, I don't know what I was going to do. "You know what? I'm going to go check on the others."

I didn't even wait for an answer. I ran to the bathroom and threw the door open, then stumbled to a halt.

Meiling had a leg up on the sink, legs spread wide and plug vibrating in her ass. Fingers plunged at the splayed depths of her snatch while others ran under her blouse and bra. Min was pressed up against the wall next to her, bent over with her tits pressed up against it like pillows, one arm reaching around her back to finger her slit from behind while her other hand played along her puckered, sucking lips.

"Really!?" I cried

"Sorry!" Min moaned. "We couldn't wait."

Thirty minutes later the three of us squeezed back into the tiny office, apologizing to our manager about womanly troubles. He waved it off. In whatever reality we lived, this clearly wasn't the first time this had happened. Anybody with a nose could imagine all too well what we had been up to. Mmm... would he be thinking of me when he was masturbated later?

It was late by the time we got home. I collapsed onto the couch as soon as we got in. Meiling ran into the bathroom to change into a bigger plug and Min decided that she was going to have another round of deepthroating that floppy dildo from this morning.

I laid back, hand on my head. Somehow the day had been more exhausting than usual. God, and we weren't even training, not really. We were just fucking around. Madeline had so perverted our schedule and these girls that we didn't have a single opportunity to work on the skills we'd actually need for the concert. All we were going to be qualified to be at this rate were well-fucked whores.

I slammed a fist into a pillow, forcing the tears from my eyes. I couldn't let this get to me. I couldn't let her win.

The sex that night was hollow. It lacked the tenderness I had grown to expect. The two girls were as enthusiastic ever - hell, more so, - but, just like in the shower, I couldn't help but feel distant. Even as they brought me to new slutty heights of bliss, I just couldn't relax, couldn't enjoy their tender touch.

All day long it had been bugging me; their cattiness and their attitude. Jealous looks and glances. Now it seemed to all be coming home here in the soft night when I was most vulnerable.

They were fine when they were together, so soft and delicate and natural, but they felt so apart from me. It turned my heart cold just looking at them. I yearned to be a part of that, to take comfort in it, but whenever they shifted their attention to me there was something sharp and bitter beneath it. Pity? Condescension? It felt like the only reason they would include me is because they felt bad for me. Like they'd rather I not even be there.

Had this been Madeline's doing? Had she changed them? How? Think. I closed my eyes and tried to sort through all the bullshit swirling around in my head.

I furrowed my brow. It wasn't them at all, was it? My pulse quickened. It was me. I'd been short-tempered and petty and jealous all day.

But surely that was natural for someone in a situation like mine, right? Or... fuck, who could say? I clutched a hand to my head. I felt like I was going insane. But how else could I explain it? The way I'd snapped at Min... the way I'd kept trying to show them up whenever I could... the disquiet when I wasn't the center of attention?

Why was I being such a bitch?

My eyes snapped open. The word sent Madeline's stupid note fluttering to the forefront of my memory.

"From my heart to yours."

I screamed.

-= Chapter 10 =-

Day after day went by like that. With each cut my heart seemed to grow angrier and more bitter. Each new trial pushed me further and further from the man I had once been. I tried to fight against it, but I found myself slipping inch by inch with each frustrating practice, each perceived slight. It was Madeline's rigged game, setting me up to become just as awful as she was.

The fact that the emotions were fake did little to stop me from feeling them. My attraction to men was proof enough of that. They clouded my judgement, forced me to act before I realized what I was doing. It was so... thorough; so palpable yet so subtle. Sometimes I didn't know where I ended and where I began. It was a constant struggle not to snap, not to take it out on the girls.

I couldn't let them know what I had become.

Madeline wanted me to know her pain? I had her body and now... what? Her heart? Her cold, ugly, hateful heart? Well, it hurt alright. It sickened me to even consider myself one iota of that woman.

Was it not bad enough that the threat of her haunted my paranoid fantasies? I knew she was out there, laughing at my suffering. I had already felt her at the periphery of my existence. Now I had a special piece of her in my heart? I wretched.

I could see her out in the world, living my life. Every night I would spend what little time I had looking up all of the horror she had inflicted that day. As much as I wanted to distance myself from her - as much as I wanted to turn my back and run - I couldn't look away. I was like an orphan with my face against the glass, staring at a train wreck.

She was systematically destroying everything I had worked my whole career to build. She was so focused in her poetic justice that she was prepared to let the world burn to get it.

I wasn't the only victim of her magic, that much was for sure. Women who had been low on the totem pole in the company were now executives. Executives were now secretaries and office ladies and worse. Particularly troublesome men seemed to find themselves in particularly compromising positions. The CFO was now a bikini model - though he at least had kept his old body. It was a struggle to even keep up - more seemed to shift every day.

And that was just what I could piece together from the sidelines. I had no idea how far things had truly gone.

What was her goal? To reverse the roles? To empower women and make the men who had made their lives hell pay for their privilege?

The world barely noticed the difference. No one seemed to regard these newly promoted women as such. They'd slipped so perfectly into their new lives that nobody saw any difference between them and the men they once were. And of course, this being Madeline, reports of sexual harassment of said former-males was through the roof. Would someone investigate such claims? What would she do to if someone figured it out? Tried to stop her?

And here I was, simmering impotent in my hate. Was all of this some sort of carefully crafted gift to me? A special little "fuck you?" Or was this just my new jealous heart assuming everything was always about me?

I reclined in the computer seat and let out a long breath. The anxiety building up inside of me was too much.

I had never known hate in my life, not really, not like this. Now I knew it all too well. That was the funny thing, I think, that the hatred I felt for that woman was her own loathing shining back out through my breast. It drove me forward, so keen and cold and ready to lash out. Oh, the things I'd do to her if I got the chance. She thought this was suffering? I'd show her suffering.

I gripped a fist. Pink nails and white knuckles. That wasn't me. Was it? I didn't want to think that way.

It was only at moments like this - when I sat back and thought about it - that I even realized I was doing it, that I realized how far I'd fallen.

I shook my head and checked my email. There was an email from "dad" that I was in no way prepared to deal with, a handful of dick-pic fan-letters that the company wanted me to respond to, and another message from Mia Michaelson, the girl who had been living Madeline's life.

Mia and I had been trying to stay in touch. She was struggling just as much as I was. She was the one person in the world who could come close to understanding what I was going through. Hell, she had tasted first hand Madeline's jealousy - she had a lifetime of experience with it, even if it didn't seem to carry over onto who she was now.

But she was difficult to talk to. I had to couch myself behind layers of deception and allusion. And honestly? It hurt. Her optimism, her cheerful insistence that everything was going to be alright and that everybody could be forgiven? The advice she was all to happy to administer in regretful hindsight rained down upon me like arrows, cutting to the core of who I now was. Every message from her felt like an attack. Like it was all so simple and she was so smart and I was such a fucking idiot for struggling with it.

I tried to type out a response, but it was infuriating. What did she know anyway? How could someone who had lived a life like that still be so weak?

For the third time that night I deleted the draft I'd been working on. I'd find my own way through this.

-

"Dance with me."

"What?"

It had been a week since the handshake. We hadn't sung or danced once in all that time. The concert was going to come and we were going to humiliate ourselves in front of everybody because we'd spent all our time fucking instead of training. We were going to lose unless I did something about it.

But of course, I couldn't tell them that, could I? In their minds getting plowed by Madame's strap-on every day was an important part of getting ready for a concert. It wasn't their fault, I knew that. But that didn't make it any less difficult to deal with.

My heart pounded at the thought. I could already imagine the crowd, hidden behind the glare of the spotlight so that only their cruel grins shone through. I could hear them sneering, jeering, laughing at the uncoordinated mess we'd be trying to pass off as a show. I let out a terse breath. The fear of it somehow struck me harder than what Madeline would do with us afterwards. I had to do something - anything - to give us an edge.