*One last warning that this work of fiction contains violence and wanton cruelty (no gore). Classic rich guy attitude, am-i-right?*
“Close your eyes,
Give me your hand, darling.
Do you feel my heart beating?
Do you…” *smack*
The American Idol winner whom all three judges, with tears in their eyes, agreed had the most beautiful voice they had ever heard, interrupted her haunting rendition of Eternal Flame with a squeal from a sharp slap to the face. Her left cheek was throbbing and red, split by a tear running down to join others on her wet chin. It was her third slap this morning alone. She sat naked by the bedside in silence for another ten minutes, wondering if maybe she was destined for greater things than being a rich man’s alarm clock. The contract was signed, though; this was her life now.
Griffin made zombie noises as he rubbed his face between silky soft pillows one last time. He gave the two giant tits a great bearhug, biting hard into the nipple he’d been nibbling on all night as he stretched. You’re never too old for a pacifier when it’s attached to the giant tit of an oscar-nominated actress. The naked girl lying on her back at the head of the bed stirred but endured the abuse with gritted teeth. Pretending to be a pillow was like any other acting job. At least that’s what her agent had told her a few years ago at the height of her career.
The majority shareholder of Amapplesoft created waves in his bed with further stretching and rolling around. Not because it was a water bed; he just liked sleeping on a tightly packed arrangement of voluptuous influencers. Instagram was like an online mattress store for him. Being a bed girl was an easier job than most other positions at Griffin’s mansion, yet at least one was smothered nearly to death each night between the round buttcheeks and large breasts of their neighbors.
The snooze slap had expired and the songbird of our generation was filling the bedroom with her heavenly voice once again, bracing herself for another hit. She opened one eye tentatively… Her owner was not in his grotesque bed anymore. Sometimes he would forget to turn her off and she would sing for the other bedroom girls all day long until her voice was raw. That was the better of the two outcomes since the OFF switch was deep in her little ass, only reachable by a morning spray of pale marmalade. A hand on her shoulder from behind made her jump, and she bent over. There he was.
“Sun shines through the rain… A whole life… So lonely…” She did her best to stay on key but with all the money in the world, one can certainly afford the biggest cock enhancements. He slammed the petite singer hard against the side of his bed of women with his muscular body, making her slender frame rattle and her small tits flutter at every thrust. She met the gaze of two other naked girls on pedestals against the opposite wall of the bedroom, a thick steel rod between their anuses and the weight of a dozen three-piece suits stretching them out. Everyone has their own problems, she thought as she felt the warm gush deep in her guts. Once Griffin left, she would be allowed to sob quietly until his return.
A short girl, legally a dwarf without any of the dwarfism, slid Griffin’s dirty, cum-glazed cock down her throat as soon as it was out of the alarm clock’s ass. He had met her at a fundraiser for her condition and thought her stature would make for the perfect underwear. A signature later, her little legs were shuffling backward, trying to keep up with his long strides, and a 14-inch penis ranging from semi-flaccid to fully erect was in her throat almost all day long.
Griffin lifted an arm and Deodorant Girl sprung into action. Being Lady Amelia Windsor, 41st in line to the succession of the British throne did not help pay her debts but reluctantly licking armpits for a few years would. She ran her tongue from rib to arm as vigorously and eagerly as she could fake it. When she was done, she returned to her corner to probably be called upon again after Griffin’s workout. He headed to the bathroom, Underwear Girl with a large bulge in her throat scuttling between his legs.
Toilet Girl, one of many throughout the mansion, relished the darkness. A burst of brightness in her white room triggered a rank pavlovian taste in her mouth. She forced a smile and opened her mouth wide. Underwear girl plucked the large member from her throat, taking the opportunity to take long, deep breaths while appreciating not being a toilet at least.
The morning piss was a strong jet that never failed to make Toilet Girl gag, but after months of guzzling piss, she was an expert at keeping the stream contained and throat-swallowing with soft glugs while keeping her mouth wide open. Life comes at you fast when you date then break up with the son of the richest man on Earth. Seems her loving parents were willing to give up their only daughter for enough zeros on a check.
After the last swallow, she licked her lips and concealed a burp while Underwear Girl reattached herself balls-deep and siphoned the urethra clean of the last few drops. This was always a tense moment. But when the bathroom plunged back into the comfort of pitch darkness, Toilet Girl and Toilet Paper Girl kneeling next to her shared a sigh of relief.
From the kitchen, Griffin could see his son was yelling at a wrestling match happening in their living room “Choke her harder!” The fight was essentially over; one girl in a skimpy bikini had the neck of a slim-fit blonde in a Supergirl costume between her muscular thighs. The thinner girl was completely limp but the dominant gladiator was mercilessly obeying her fan.
The living room ring often held sporting events where girls from the entertainment industry were hired to do anything they were asked to. Griffin’s son liked to pit his favorite wrestler against female superheroes of the silver screen. Their on-screen powers were never much use against a pile-driver from the top rope.
“Morning, son,” Griffin said while pouring cereals into the open mouth of a girl lying on top of the island counter. “And good morning Christine.”
The pigtailed Christine sucking his son’s cock as he watched the show waved and made unintelligible throat noises. She seemed to be doing homework at the same time, probably his, not hers.
“Dad, do you need a new toilet? I’m thinking of breaking up with Christine.”
Griffin sighed. That boy was never one for long-term relationships. He had only been dating Christine for two weeks by his count. “Why don’t you just keep her as underwear? She’s short enough and her lips are already around your cocks whenever she’s here.”
“Fine, whatever.”
“I’ll tell her parents not to expect her home for a while.” Griffin started pouring the milk and Bowl Girl failed to suppress a cough. Rivulets of milk spilled on the side of her mouth and dirtied the counter. Griffin frowned before using her cupped hand as a spoon and she knew she would be reassigned tomorrow. The boss’ rowdy dogs were always in need of new breasts to use as chew toys.
“I’m going to the gym before swinging by the office. Don’t watch wrestling all day, OK?” An afterthought made Griffin turn again toward his son. “And try not to kill Supergirl. Your mom loves that show.”
The punching bag was trying not to flinch at the krish of velcro from Griffin’s workout gloves because she was unstable on her tippy toes and punching bags shouldn’t sway until they get punched. Her magnificent, perky F-cups were bundled together and tied to a ceiling beam, waiting for their daily thrashing. When something beautiful catches Griffin’s eyes, he must have it, even if it is the cleavage of a bride at a wedding he attends. Evgenia had not seen her husband since he altered his vows to say he accepted Griffin’s generous proposition.
The first punch came hard and the second came fast. Griffin unleashed a flurry on the squishy melons and their erect nipples, making them wiggle and bounce like gelatin in a paint shaker. After ten minutes of fighting the malleable flesh torpedos, everyone involved was panting, including Underwear Girl who had kept his cock in her mouth the entire lively round.
Griffin’s uncovered palms were on his Punching Bag Girl’s breasts, feeling the pulsations of the damage he inflicted. They had been in worse shape before, which meant he could do better. Once he caught his breath, he gave them a push, and, on their return, put all of his weight into powerful hooks and uppercuts for another ten minutes.
Sometimes her understimulated brain imagined sounds in the dark, but the door actually opened this time once the echoing footsteps abruptly ended and the courtesy light blinded her wide pupils. It meant that today, instead of sitting around in the dark backseat of a luxurious self-driving limousine, itself sitting in the dark parking garage of a luxurious mansion as she did most days, she was going to share a ride with the richest man in the world.
As the youngest ever person to earn three PhDs, she had turned down hundreds of prestigious offers to work with the brilliant Griffin, the only person on Earth who had the means to help her bring about a future without disease. But instead of being appointed to the biochemical research team as she assumed, she was given the position of ashtray in car #2. Though she occasionally got to sit a foot away from Griffin, the timing never seemed right to pitch her revolutionary ideas.
A tall man in a coat entered the car, his right foot first, then the quivering naked girl with a bulging throat shuffled in the leg space. The young doctor was told never to address the small girl as she was merely a pair of underwear. Griffin wore pants outside of his home but the band of his loose sweatpants was low enough for his underwear to keep her lips locked tight around the base of his cock. Her face was beet-red and she never failed to make the overqualified ashtray feel a little better about her role in the conglomerate.
The stench of a freshly lit cigarette had become an involuntary trigger for her to throw her head back and open her mouth wide with her tongue out. Now was not a good time to talk; she had a job to do. Her mouth collected ash between every puff and her tongue helped put out the spent butts every few minutes. As her tongue dried up from being constantly exposed to air and embers, refraining from closing her mouth to replenish its saliva quickly became the biggest challenge. With a tsss, Griffin put out his 5th cigarette on the girl’s tongue and flicked the stub down her throat. He watched her swallow her mouthful of ash before opening his door, having arrived at the intended destination.
“Sir, with a small team and minimal resources I think I can develop a universal…” But the man and his underwear were gone. Thankfully, her car #2 ashtray duties would present her with many more opportunities. She was still young after all.
Griffin had his own personal entrance to the towering Amapplesoft building equipped with the latest in recognition technology operated by the foremost security expert, a young woman once known as the world’s greatest hacker. High as it was, her dignity had a price just like everyone else, and so she had gone from modern-day digital Robin Hood to lead operator of a back-entrance cock scanner. Griffin rarely showed up at the office, but she had to be ready to scan his cock day or night. Her lips being permanently glued to the other side of the door didn’t give her much of a choice.
She couldn’t see anything but painted steel nor hear anything but office chatter behind her, so it was always an unpleasant surprise to suddenly have a giant, genetically enhanced cock plunging down her throat.
Griffin had arrived and Underwear Girl was able to breathe properly for the first time in a long time while he followed the strict security protocols of his own design. This brilliant man decided that his large cock was the only thing no one would be able to fake. He went balls-deep into the scanner to really give it a feel of his full length so it could analyze every vein of every inch. The door gagged, and again every time he slammed his crotch against its glory hole.
The scanner wasn’t equipped with DNA-scanning technology but Griffin provided a pint of the stuff anyway. Squirt after squirt, he filled the entire receptacle at the end of the convulsing chute. Satisfied that she had been throat raped by the building’s owner, the scanner activated her unlock feature with the press of a button.
Griffin grabbed the door’s handle with both hands and squeezed it hard before twisting it in his wrists. The door made a guttural squeal; when your lips are glued to a hole, you are restricted to a narrow range of noises. Griffin hadn’t used a normal doorknob in a decade but he remembered how they worked from his days as a mere billionaire. Any doorway he might use one day had a girl with large breasts on the other side, one titty squished against the door, the other squeezed into a tight borehole. Regardless of your qualifications, if you were hired at Amapplesoft and the invasive physical exam revealed that you had breasts bigger than a grapefruit, you would almost assuredly be made a part of the squishy doorknob team.
As an entrance, a sensitive part of the cock scanner’s body was exposed to the elements even on cold winter days, so Griffin’s warm hands were almost welcomed on her left breast. Almost. There is a moment when your titty is wrung past the third nipple rotation that makes you miss the biting cold. It was only after the door swung open and slammed the hacker’s booty against the wall that the twisted breast was released. Once she swung back shut, the scanner returned to waiting mode.
There were eight more doors on Griffin’s way to his office. Some had been installed just because he liked opening doors. None required identification, but he make sure to really dig into the knob and twist hard for each one as if it was the only way to properly unlock them.
“So, how’s business and stuff?” Griffin asked the Chief Financial Officer standing in his office and holding a stack of simple charts with arrows pointing up she had prepared upon hearing of her boss’ visit. Her uncanny ability to turn millions into billions had let her avoid doorknob duty so far despite having some of the company’s largest, plumpest breasts hidden under her blazer.
Money makes money and Griffin had inherited so much of it that his fortune kept growing exponentially despite being completely oblivious to what his company did. He sat down at his desk on a chair made of two slim pregnant women. One, on all four, was the seat; the other, standing, had her back propped against his. He leaned back in his creaky chair, making the back woman groan and strain with exertion. Griffin was a heavy man and he loved the way skinny arms and legs trembled under his weight like an organic massaging chair. A pregnant woman was like using long-lasting batteries because of their determination to protect their unborn child.
Underwear-girl allowed herself to detach again, ceding the cock to a different pair of nervous lips. Griffin had a dedicated cocksucker living under his desk. Whenever he wasn’t there, which was almost always, she practiced her blowjobs using a state-of-the-art squirting dildo that matched Griffin’s measurements exactly. It was equipped with an increasingly hard-to-please AI generating blowjob-quality scores on a ten-point scale. In six short months since winning Miss America and getting noticed by Griffin, constant practice had turned her into the best cocksucker in the world with a 9.8, a score she still strived to beat after every simulated ejaculation. At the pageant, when asked what she wanted to do most in the world, she had said something about rescuing abandoned animals. But, given her reluctant expertise in what some might claim to be the second most important job in the world, her dream would probably have to wait until she retired from a life of sucking judgmental cocks in the dark.
“All that is left is to reinvest the rest of our revenue into marketing and R&D,” the busty CFO said to Griffin after dumbing down an entire year of record-breaking profits into a five-minute presentation that barely pulled his attention away from the world-class dick-sucking and simultaneous ball-licking he was receiving under his deck. She really was the best.
“Fine, I’ll do it. Open your shirt.”
Without a word of backtalk, the CFO opened her blazer and unbuttoned her shirt. Her large breasts exploded forward at their chance for fresh air. Every little nervous twitch from the woman made them jiggle like a plate of jello being delivered to your table. Her bright red face only made them look paler.
Griffin had cum in Miss America’s throat twice already but she was still sucking expertly. Her head hit the bottom of his desk when he got up to reach for a marker and box of darts. His chair creaked with squeaky voices when he carelessly dropped back down. The vibrations on his butt intensified.
The CFO interpreted a look from her boss to mean that she should bring her bare breasts closer, so she approached the desk to deposit her heavy chest on the cold black marble.
“This one is marketing…” Griffin defaced the left boob with a sharpied M. “And this one is R…&…D. Let’s say every dart is a billion dollars.”
Things were dangerously clearer now for the CFO and she knew it was now time to take a few steps back, join her hands together behind her back, close her eyes, and hope that her boss hit the left breast twice as often as the right so that she wasn’t stuck with a marketing budget so obscene they’d have to draw the company logo on the moon.
Once back home, Griffin spent an hour smoking cigarettes in his car to unwind. It had been a trying day; a good example for those who don’t believe that wealth is proportional to the effort you put in. Making each dart worth a billion dollars when your company reported over a trillion in profit this quarter can lead to long hours behind your desk and an aching wrist. It was fun though; the CFO had officially been promoted to financial dartboard.
The ten most coveted Japanese gravure idols were already waiting in the shower, naked and ready to wash every inch of his body with their soapy breasts like a carwash of the softest luffas nature can produce. Griffin’s underwear had a whole half-hour to catch up on the missed oxygen before resuming her duties as soon as Griffin stepped out of the shower. Throat bulging once more, she scuttled between her boss’ legs as he walked back to the living room to check on his son.
“Hey, son. How is school going?” The boy hadn’t moved from the couch since Griffin left that morning. In the living room ring, a skinny girl in a black dress was being suffocated between the large breasts of a bigger girl. Griffin didn’t know what television show these two were from so he didn’t pay attention for long.
“It’s alright,” his son answered, taking a short break from sucking one of the maid’s engorged tits for a snack.
“How is he doing, Mindy?” Griffin was not asking the maid, but the young woman trying to get his son’s attention away from the stage and onto the math problems on her digital tablet.
The private tutor couldn’t verbally answer with all that cock meat in her throat, but she gave her boss a thumbs up regardless of having been confused with the English teacher. The boy didn’t correct his dad either, having difficulty telling girls apart when they shared the same hair color.
“Well, make sure he’s studying hard. One day he might be the one making all the hard decisions at the office like his dad.”
Griffin decided to call it an early day. Going to the office two days in a row was highly unusual, but he was excited about using the financial dartboard for all sorts of important decisions tomorrow. He set his alarm clock to 10 AM by pinching her nipples ten times then jumped on his bed of fresh influencers, making quite a few of them wail from the sudden weight and compression claustrophobia. He nestled deeper between the breasts and the butts and fell asleep. It was going to be a long night for the girls in the bed pile but especially for his underwear, which he had forgotten to take off.
*Thanks for reading! There are 100+ more twisted shorts linked in my profile.*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/1250hw8/the_first_trillionaie_mfff_1830_extreme
good job