Veronica swore to Betty she had a way to make Archie pay for playing them against each other all these years. Betty wasn’t so sure but she was pissed off enough to go along with V’s schemes. But…frankly she was a little let down when the drunken poker game Veronica had rigged against Archie ended up with a lame payoff dare from Reggie: Arch had to dress like a girl all day and be at Reg’s beck and call no matter the task. Pff. Archie and Jughead had cross-dressed on purpose dozens of time for their harebrained plans. Boring. Even Archie seemed relieved.
But when Betty saw the hot girl Veronica’s personal stylists had turned Archie into, she started getting intrigued. This was new. Arch certainly seemed ill at ease. Not to mention, several boys made passes and grabbed his ass before realizing who it was. If they realized. Even with the height and same hair, contour makeup and cute clothes really did make the woman.
Betty went to congratulate Veronica at the end of the day. Arch had been thoroughly embarrassed and demoralized. Especially after Reggie made Archie sit on his lap during lunch and feed him. Archie had been red-faced since and wasn’t looking anyone in the eye. He didn’t even glare at the new wave of folks (boys and girls…and a few teachers?!) that catcalled him and smacked his ass. Heh! That’ll teach him to use girls like pawns in his dating games.
“You are an evil genius, Veronica! I think Archie has finally learned a lesson this time.”
“Oh I don’t think we can let him off that easy. Reggie and I have one cherry to place atop Archie’s shaming. Well…his cherry, that is.”
Betty had no idea what more they could possibly do. Veronica led her into an empty classroom where Reggie was putting Arch through his paces. Walk with books on your head, take sharp turns in heels, sit on the desk and practice crossing your legs in a skirt. Archie’s face glowed crimson but he didn’t fight it. He just complied with a “yes, sir” when commanded and a “thank you, sir” when Reggie called him a good girl. Where was the smug smirk, where was the wheeling and dealing? What had happened to that boyish rogue and where had this girl come from who was so…demure.
“Enough games, Reg darling, let the girl serve you.”
[let me know if you recognize the artist. would love to see more and give credit.]
Too much green beer, I guess. St. Patrick’s Day might be over, but the morning after can still be celebrated!
“Honey, ohmygod, I’m so sorry.”
“I told you, Pop, I want this. I need it.”
“You can’t be serious. It’s wrong. It’s awful. I’m awful. I’m so sorry. Is it because we let you snuggle into our bed whenever you had nightmares, even into high school?”
“Silly Daddy, I haven’t remembered my dreams for years. The only nightmare I’ve had recently is the fear of not feeling you hard-on poking me in the morning. Speaking of…hello there. Let me just help you with that. Mmmm, it feels so good to be able to grasp this thing firmly. You know for years I’ve gotten such a nervous thrill, stroking it lightly over your shorts, begging you and Mommy not to wake.”
“Sto-, Sweetie, stop it. I’m sorry, this is wrong.”
“Oh Daddy, if you wanted me to stop you would stop me. Or…” she let go, looked down and a realistic crying quaver came into her voice, “…are you saying I’m not attractive? Is that it *sniff* am I too ugly, Daddy? Will anyone *sniff* ever want me? All my friends always say Mommy is a MILF, you know? But me, everyone calls me a leprechaun. Too short, too ginger, *sniff, am I an ugly duckling?”
“Oh no, Sweetie, you’re very attractive. Just as beautiful as your Mommy. More, even.”
*sniff* “You’re just saying that because I’m your little girl.”
“No, Baby, you’re a bombshell. Anyone who can’t see that is an idiot.”
“Do you *sniff* really think I’m hotter than Mommy?”
“You’re my little girl but even I can see that.” You reach out and hug her tight. Her large breasts press against you chest, nipples perky. She shakes a little from crying, not helping the sensation.
*sniff* “How so?”
“Well you have such beautiful, hair. More silky and unique than your Mommy’s brunette bleached blonde hair. Your eyes shine and surpass her dull brown. Your lips are fuller and pouty.” She kisses your collar bone…is she pressing her chest into you, intentionally trying to rub her nipples into yours? “…um- your boobs are very, uh, developed.”
“I’m glad you noticed.” Her voice sounds smoky and seductive. No hint of choked back tears. She looks up into your eyes. Hers aren’t puffy or red or wet. “All those years of wearing thin t-shirts around the house weren’t for nothing. Nor the bikinis or tight sweaters.” She grabs onto you again…down there. “I guess this thing couldn’t lie. You think your daughter is hot, Daddy? heehee”
“G-ah! Umm, I mean.”
“Shh, let your bombshell daughter take over, Daddy. I’ve worked so long for this. Leaning over you in loose tops, bending in short skirts. You looked, naughty Daddy. Now you can touch.”
Of course when you got there you saw your frat brothers out on the lawn horsing around. Men sporting sundresses with chest hair sprouting where cleavage should have been. Big beards over slips, their junk tenting the smooth fabric and obviously not tucked thoroughly as you had. And certainly no one else had shaven their legs. They were parodies. No one came close to passing. Even though they’d all assured you there would be prizes for the most convincing getup.
Freaking out, you asked your girlfriend to pull away immediately before anyone saw you. She just took the keys, got out and started striding away, greeting your roommate loudly. Shit!
“Who’s your hot new frien-” your roomie started in, “Oh my god! Sam!?!? You’re smokin’! I can’t believe this worked- I mean, that your outfit is so good. The seniors need to see this!”
You were quickly ushered into the house – past many roving eyes, wolf whistles, and ass slaps – to the house elders. After much laughter and being made to twirl and bend over you were summarily declared the winner for the title “Queen Sissy”. Yay? Wait, the prize was to be the Party Hostess? You’d have to take everyone’s orders, drink and…otherwise. If everyone wasn’t pleased by the night’s end, you’d have to dress like this for a month!?
You looked to your girlfriend in panic. She just smirked and said in a sultry voice not to worry, that she’d teach you exactly how to please all the men. This was met with raucous approval.
“He’ll probably be so devastated that he’ll cry. Then I’ll crawl over, comfort him, and lick up the tears. Then I want you to start fucking me again from behind while I coo at him, telling him he’ll never get to fuck me again. But I’ll keep his Mother’s ring, thanks. If the bf puts up a fight, you can hurt him a little. Or a lot. Whatever it takes. xx”
“It’s just an experimental art installation. Don’t be weird about it.” Your girlfriend had said when you questioned her Halloween plans.
But surely this was horribly objectifying? Dangerous. Maybe even criminal, considering you’re staging it in secret at the autumn harvest festival?
“That’s what makes it experimental art you silly. Art is dangerous. Our bodies are analogous to the vulnerable, ripe fruits of the field. We will expose the savagery of a simple, family friendly ‘harvest’ scene for the act of domination that it really is, that our very existence as living things demands. We take of the living to regenerate our own life force. We harness the very means of creation and bend it to out wills, objectifying it, mechanizing it.”
Right, but what if someone, tried…something…you know?
“Oh, honey, you’re so naive. We invite earnest exploration and play. Interaction is the truest form of art appreciation.”
But what about…sex? You can’t intend to allow…?
“Of course we can! How else can we expose truth if we don’t expose ourselves? If we balk at showing the fullness of our vision?”
But…but…I know it’s for art and you love me…and…but you’re not even on birth control!
“Sweetie…don’t be dense. The whole theme of the piece is conquest and reproduction, after all…”
“That jerk always called me a fat cow. We’ll see what he thinks of this cow now.”
“He didn’t call you fat; he said he wanted to milk your big udders. You’re playing right into his hands.”
“Oh I’ll play right into his hands alright. Then we’ll see who’s an ugly cow when he’s kneeling under me.”
“Honey, please, this is crazy. It’s humiliating. What will our friends think?”
“That one of us finally has the upper hand over this bully? Besides, baby, none of our friends will be there. It’s an exclusive party for the cool crowd. That ass only joking invited me to be his ‘bovine bitch,’ not thinking I’d actually do it. But I’ll show him. I’ll wipe that smug smile right off his face with a double D in his mouth.”
“Please, I can’t bear to see this.”
“Baby, don’t cry. Don’t worry…you’re not invited either. Oh and don’t wait up. It might take all night to teach him a lesson.”
You had encouraged her to play along with his flirting since the first office party, sure it would help you get ahead. She was disgusted but finally agreed to do it after a little pleading. Actually she had played her part a little too well. Did she really need to sit in his lap? That’s what you get for being a pig, she had retorted.
But it had worked. The boss kept you close, promoted you. Unfortunately, he also mocked you openly in front of coworkers for having such a ‘loose wife’ and told others about her. “Go ahead and show Richards a picture of that slutty piece of ass you’ve got” he’d say, forcing you to show off photos of your wife to clients. He insisted you show ‘a sexy one.’ “Wouldn’t you like to blast a baby in that?” he’d then remark crudely, “You never know, bitch was in my lap after two drinks last party. You’re invited to the Halloween party of course.” Everyone always laughed at that. It was a good-natured joke, right? But it felt a little too real
So when he handed you this ‘costume’ and guffawed and made you turn around to “show the boys what I got that wife of yours for the party,” you felt an obligation to play along. People tittered awkwardly and some rude jokes were made at your expense, causing more genuine merriment. “Bring it to her and say it’s from her old admirer, hawhaw. Can’t wait to see her in it. We’ll see a lot of her, in fact, haw haw!”
You just wanted to throw it away. Surely he wasn’t serious? And yet, maybe your position hinged on your hot wife? You decided on a half measure: show it to your wife and treat it all as a joke. See what she said. Surely she’d refuse it out of hand and you could tell it as a funny story to the boss…
“I want you to see another man slowly take everything from you. It turned you on when you thought it was just my fidelity he took from you. I was fulfilling a hot little fantasy. Your fantasy.
Will it still turn you on when I give your dream to him? What about when I follow his every command? No matter if he asks for those perverse things I’ve always denied you? How will it feel? When I let him fuck my ass? Or take me bareback? Will you still find it hot when he impregnates me? Or commands me to leave you?”
The stupid part had been bragging to your bully of a coworker how your hot girlfriend was going to dress as the ultimate male fantasy. But the insufferable jerk was always one step ahead of you. Always getting the praise, the promotions. The only thing you seemed to have that he didn’t was a very sexy girlfriend. It annoyed you that he hit on her whenever she came by. And that she giggled a bit too much when he did so. Still, his unfulfilled desire for your girl was perhaps the one thing that gave you power over him.
So you bragged and said she’d be slave Leia and you’d be her dashing Han Solo. He didn’t seem as jealous as you’d like. In fact, he grinned. But whatever, you had the supreme sex symbol and he didn’t. You walked away feeling like a winner.
Thus it came as a shock when he showed up at the party as Boba Fett and told your ‘Leia’ he was here to claim her as a runaway slave. He took hold of her leash as if it was his right. Your girlfriend blushed. Fuck! Was she just going to go for this?
“Screw yourself, bounty hunter! I am a Princess and Diplomat. You have no authority over me,” she spat at him. Thank god! She had you worried.
“Princess Leia, you are a known traitor to the Empire and have been stripped of all rank. You are mine to take as I please,” responded ‘Boba,’ jerking her leash, causing her to gasp and take an involuntary step. What an ass! You were about to step in when-
“The Rebellion doesn’t recognize the authority of this unlawful empire or its unscrupulous lapdogs, Boba!” she yelled, full of vitriol. Jesus! Your girlfriend was really into this roleplay. At least it felt good to watch her tear into your bully for once instead of cooing at his flirtations.
“Ahh, we must all bend-” he said, leaning toward your girl and pulling her leash so her head came down and towards his, “before the law. Don’t you agree?” She was blushing deeper and looking so intently at him. Fuck!
“Of course you do. Even your little rebellion rests upon the authority of the old republic and its democratic senate. Isn’t that right?” Your girlfriend was practically panting. She looked entranced by him.
“Answer me, Slut Leia!” he demanded, yanking her chain so hard she stumbled and fell onto her knees. She made a choked sound and gazed up at him as if at a god, mouth agape.
“…o-of course it does, mast- uh, Boba. We are…” she took a strained breath “the torch bearers of just rule and peace in the galaxy. We represents the true will of free and sovereign people.”
“Yes, yes, very noble. Now tell me, did not the Hutts have rule of this planet under the Republic, too?”
She muttered something derogatory about “gangster scum” and he jerked her chain. “Yes!” she yelped, “they ruled legally.”
“Good, and did they not have the lawful authority to enslave those in debt to them. …Or those who threatened their lives. Exactly as you did while attempting to steal Jaba’s property, Mr Han Solo here?”
She didn’t look up at him. She bit her lip and mumbled, her face flushed.
“Look at me, Princess Whore!” he demanded, yanking her head up.
“Yes!” she cried.
“And so are you not legal chattel and mine to claim as an authorized bounty hunter?”
“…yes.”
“And so will you not come with me like a good slave? I’m sure you wouldn’t want the word to get out that a high ranking operative of your ‘people’s rebellion’ was threatening a sovereign leader with assassination and theft of his property. People might think your little rebellion wasn’t so just anymore. They might see it as a gang. Other leaders might see you not as liberators, but as a threat to their free rule.”
‘Leia’ gasped in shock, “You wouldn’t! Sir, uh, Boba, you can’t do that! It would crush what little support we have!”
“Tsk, tsk, my naughty slave. If I don’t, surely Jaba will? What reason has he to protect a Republic that threatens him so?”
“I acted alone! They didn’t authorize this, didn’t know! Don’t ruin freedom’s only chance! I’ll…I’ll do anything, Sir!”
“Yes, hmm. Well I have some influence, but I doubt a Hutt would believe such a useless slave girl that doesn’t even know what to offer her betters when they bring her to her knees.”
She gulped and started reaching out toward his crotch with searching, imploring hands.
“…yes, Master Fett. I accept my place as a lawful slave. You are wise and magnanimous. Please…let me show you that I can learn to be a proper sex slave.” She had started removing his codpiece.
You’d let this jerk bully you in the past, but this was too much.
“Hold it right there ‘Boba’! This is too much. Let go of my fucking girlfriend before I punch your teeth in.”
WHAM!
You were on the ground and in pain before you knew what happened. His foot was then on your chest and he put his weight on it.
“Sorry, Han, but you’re blind and imprisoned at the part of the story.” He reached down and fastened a cloth around your eyes. Then he flipped you over and snapped handcuffs tightly on your wrists.
“Stop this farce, you asshole!”
“Sorry, honey, but he’s right. There’s no way Han could save Leia at this point in the movie. Be a good boy and play your part. Now, Master Fett, where were we? Oh yes, I believe you were going to let me prove what an obedient, slutty slave I can be…”
“You must be Brady. Hot damn, you’re way hotter than my sister Jade said.”
Sister?! This was your girlfriend’s brother? *gulp*
“Thanks,” you said giggling, twirling your hair. What the hell was that?
“So Jade said you’ve been real lonely and I should make sure to get you home late, heh. You ready to go?”
“Don’t I look…ready, hot stuff?” you said, running hands seductively over your chest and half exposed ass And what was that? You couldn’t stop yourself.
“I like you already, Brady. I think we’ll have an awful lot of fun.”
ProblemCollectionLove 