***This is a fictional erotic story written by me, about me and from my point of view. You should not be reading this if you’re not of legal age, 18 in America, 21 in some other countries. I never explain in my CNC stories how consent was garnered. I have a post named “How I approach stories about CNC/R**p*ay” pinned on my page explaining why. CNC relationships come in all forms, including scenes that may seem/feel too real. I can assure you that since the stories are always starring me as the prey, I consent. This is my fantasy, not yours. You are not being forced to read this, so if you choose to then be nice and enjoy. ☺️***
“Look! We are the next group to go in, finally” Sam shouted to the group. “This better be good for waiting an hour in line!” Marcy responded. The guard at the entrance waved us into a shed that played as the access to the maze. “Let’s go, everyone get in here! Smoosh together if you have to” announced the zombie doctor in the corner of the shed. He stood under a TV that flashed rules and warnings. “Great, looks like everybody is in. Please read the rules on the screen and raise your hand when you’re done.” The zombie doctor said. The first people to enter had done so already, immediately raising their hands.