Bradley Martyn. Candy’s ex-boyfriend and her former knight-in-shining-armor stood adjacent to Logan, with his eyes staring down at the floor, teeming with subservience and uncertainty. He looked shockingly diminished, and Candy barely recognized him. His formerly 6'6" towering stature and hulking musculature were now closer to 5'9" and paltry at best. His super short brown hair was now shaggy and loose, and his face looked softer and less angular. Brad coughed lightly before stuffing a straw in his mouth and taking a hearty suck from a brown-colored shake held in his decently smooth fingers with nails that were painted black. Brad wore a pastel purple t-shirt cut in a suspiciously feminine style with a slightly plunging neckline, short, tight sleeves, and a tapered waist. In bold white letters across the front, it said, ‘DIRECTOR’S ASSISTANT.’ It was clear from the tightness of the shirt that Brad’s pecs and chest were all but concave at this point, with severely reduced size. On his legs were leggings that tightened around his still decently thick thighs, and his feet wore one-inch black wedges. 

Brad’s downcast eyes quickly flicked towards Candy before returning to the floor. He shifted uncomfortably, and his cheeks started turning red. Candy saw he had a familiar-looking nasal strip compressing his nose as he silently sipped his shake. 

“There you are, lazy girl,” Logan huffed, clearly annoyed. “Show our star to hair and makeup, NOW.”

“Y-yes, sir, *cough* right away, sir,” Brad wheezed, clearing his throat multiple times while motioning for Candy to follow.

Logan cut in, “Oh, and Brandy, don’t forget to take your afternoon vitamins. They’re in my car. Dr. Frank brought a new blend that should help with your most recent complaints.”

“Th-Thank you, Sir, I won’t forget.” Brad chirped, his voice stuck in a higher register. 

An awe-struck Candy departed the triangle of men, feeling their collective gaze lingering on her swaying assets. She watched Brad with concern and curiosity. It had only been a month and a half since she last saw him! He was dangerously close to looking like a completely different person. Candy noticed that Brad even moved differently, his manly stomp replaced by something more flowy and feminine. He tossed his hair and kept his back to Candy as he led her past the highly illuminated classroom set towards a table covered in cosmetics. 

Ariana, the twenty-something, bitchy makeup artist, stood next to the table with her arms folded across her tiny chest. A red bandana held back her medium-length dark hair while a whitewashed pair of overalls and a simple blouse covered her boyish body. She watched with calculating eyes as Brad and Candy approached. 

Once they were close enough, Ariana broke into a smile and spoke to Brad with warm confidence, “Brandy, that hair is looking so much better! I told you that shampoo would do the trick! You just gotta trust your bestie, girl!”

They shared a cute hug, and Brad nodded before pulling away and offering a beaming smile of his own while primping his shaggy brown hair. 

He squeaked, “I never— *cough* I never doubted you for a second, Ari!” 

Ariana looked past Brad, and her smile faltered as her eyes fixated on Candy. She coldly examined her up and down, then scoffed, “What are you supposed to be? Some sort of...high school turbo slut?”

Candy shrugged and gazed down at the long line of cleavage peeking from her skimpy blouse. She flipped an errant strand of long, blonde hair behind her shoulders and jutted her swollen hip to the side, feeling the short, pleated, dark blue and white tartan skirt swish gently. The sheer white stockings with lacy blue trim hugging her thick thighs; the long and sparkly blue acrylic nails on her tiny fingers; the black and blue backpack fastened around her delicate shoulders; and the visible straps of the black g-string riding her hips and digging into her holes—Candy had to admit that Ariana’s ‘high school turbo slut’ moniker was…fitting. 

“I, um, I guess so?” Candy chirped. 

Brad and Ariana faced Candy shoulder to shoulder, crossing their arms, looking down their noses and sporting smug grins. Though he was noticeably shorter overall, with just his one-inch wedge heels, Brad still stood several inches taller than Candy despite her six-inch Mary Janes. Ariana turned and whispered something softly into Brad’s ear. He craned his neck to listen and giggled heartily, coughing as his judgemental eyes flicked to Candy as if to confirm something. They were acting like a clique of mean girls ganging up on an unsuspecting outsider. Candy’s cheeks flushed and her shoulders drooped. 

Ariana cocked her head towards the open seat in front of the mirror and stared at Candy expectantly. She groaned, “Let’s go, slut! I don’t have all day to make you look presentable. Sit down.”

Brad giggled and shook his head, wearing a grin of superiority as Candy sank down onto the stool. The cold wood caressed her flesh as her meaty thighs and ass squished and bulged outwards, her skirt barely managing to cover anything. 

Over the next twenty minutes Candy tried her best to remain still as Ariana and Brad prepared her for show time. They exchanged multiple quips and insults at Candy’s expense, which she silently endured. Every flaw in her skin, every imperfection in her body, and every insecurity she held were systematically picked apart. Brad worked to comb out Candy’s hair while Ariana layered on heavy makeup. It wasn’t long before she was painted up like a proper porn starlet with bright blue eye shadow and bubblegum-pink, glossy lips. Brad procured two long blue and white lace ribbons, which he used to tie Candy’s silky hair into a pair of high, messy pigtails. 

When they were finished, Brad and Ariana backed away, and Candy caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked straight out of a high schooler's wet dream. Her huge, blue, glazed-over, doe eyes were half-lidded and gave distinct ‘fuck me’ vibes; her pigtails looked like silky handlebars, and her shiny, wet lips were begging to suck on something. 

Candy glanced past herself in the mirror to see Ariana facing Brad and applying lipstick to him while speaking in a low, hushed tone, her dark eyes predatory and expectant. Brad seemed momentarily confused but didn’t resist. The nasal strip attached to his nose furrowed, and he coughed lightly through lips that now glistened in the bright lights of the vanity. Candy could have sworn she could see his thin lips thickening in real time but chalked it up to a trick of the light. Surely that wasn’t possible! 

Turning and rising from the stool, Candy cast her smoky gaze towards the director’s chair. Dr. Frank’s interested gaze was fixated on Brad and Ariana while Daddy and Logan were grinning and whispering to one another, their attention switching from Candy to Brad and back again. If Brad and Ariana were the mean girls, Daddy and Logan were the football captains conspiring to fuck the hottest girls. 

Molly was off to the side speaking to a semicircle of tall, broad-shouldered Black men. There were five in total, with one looking decidedly older and wearing a white button-up shirt and tie with black slacks. He nodded along, listening intently to Molly while gently combing his salt-and-pepper mustache with a weathered finger. The other four wore identical blue uniform suits, which were the same color as Candy’s tartan skirt. The four ‘classmates’ all appeared to be in their late teens or early twenties, each sporting tall frames and thick muscles. Candy squirmed and not-so-subtly rubbed her thighs together as her mind became awash with fantasies of what these men could do to her—WOULD do to her. She felt a familiar hot slickness coalescing around her tiny g-string as she imagined what each man looked like beneath his schoolboy uniform. She raised the penis-shaped bottle to her lips and drew a mouthful of pink water, letting her brain fill with images of black cock and bringing her fantasies to life. Even from this distance Candy could see that each man would dominate her physically. She yearned to wrap both sets of moistening lips around each dark shaft while taking yet another dose of pink water to maintain and deepen the images in her brain. Their musk, their strong bodies holding her in place—using her, stretching her—she slurped up drool as it escaped her lips, her mind frozen in a daydream.

Breaking Candy from her stupor was Ariana, who snapped her fingers directly in front of Candy’s face while sighing with annoyance. “Hello? Earth to turbo slut! Are you fantasizing about dick again? Jesus, you’re hopeless!”

Wiping a rivulet of drool, Candy winced and looked down at her braless chest. Tiny damp spots had appeared in the thin, collared uniform blouse. It seemed during her horny stupor that she’d failed to control her lactation. 

“Darnit.” Candy huffed while unbuttoning the top, struggling slightly with her long acrylics.

She pulled the blouse open and allowed her heavy tits to flop outwards. They were supple and perky but also heavy and dominating on her frame. Her wide, feminine areolae were pink with copious and nearly translucent blue veins, suggesting active lactation and hormones promoting it. Pearls of milk visibly beaded on the tips of Candy’s thick nipples, which the cool air instantly hardened. 

Brad snickered next to Ariana and pointed a smooth, painted finger at Candy as she turned towards them, his high-pitched voice mocking and cruel, “OMG turn down the high beams on the *cough* whore-mobile!”

He then looked—desperately—at Ariana for approval. She giggled and acknowledged his joke with a smile and a nod, which he instantly beamed at, his freshly painted lips turning into a smile of their own.

Ariana cleared her throat and shooed Candy away while handing her a dry hand towel. “Alright, alright, enough jokes. Clean your ‘high beams’ up and sit in the middle desk, you’re as ready as you’ll ever be.”

Patting her sensitive nipples dry, Candy weakly thanked Ariana and turned towards the brightly illuminated classroom set. While buttoning her shirt up, Candy glanced over her shoulder, back towards her former boyfriend. The muscled-alpha-male meathead that she’d spent weeks getting to know, weeks building a relationship with. They’d kissed, they’d fucked, they’d had genuine feelings—now he followed behind Ariana like a puppy. His ‘DIRECTOR’S ASSISTANT’ shirt was tight against his diminishing frame, and his body moved in a decidedly unmanly fashion. 

She overheard Ariana speaking to Brad as they shuffled away, her voice sweet but also stern, “Girl, don’t forget about your therapy session tonight…”

Candy exhaled heavily. Brad could hardly even be called a man anymore. Oh well, she thought with a shrug, his pale white cock wouldn’t have been able to satisfy her anymore, anyway. She tottered towards the lights, pushing Brad out of her head completely. Her heeled Mary Janes clicked dully on the concrete floor. The heat of the lights was palpable, and her eyes worked to adjust. The sound of her heels changed from dull to hollow as she stepped onto the linoleum tile of the classroom set. 

A scruffy-looking crewmember in a headset greeted Candy cheerily and pointed her to the central desk. The desk was old school with a cheap plastic seat, metal frame, and decrepit wooden tabletop that flipped up and down on rusty hinges. It was cool against the back of her thighs as she sat down and crossed her legs. 

She turned back towards her suspected co-stars and saw Molly appeared to be wrapping up with them. They were all nodding and agreeing about something, but they were too far away for Candy to hear. They broke apart, and Candy instantly sat up and righted her posture as she felt the eyes of the men fixate on her. She found herself unconsciously and automatically thrusting her breasts forward and pouting her lips while they approached. She evaluated each of them just as they were doing to her. The four young men in their matching blue uniform suits were appetizing enough. She knew they would eventually bust out their BBCs and—hopefully—give her the fucking of a lifetime…but something about the fifth man, the older man, really got Candy’s mind running wild. He carried himself with the cool, calm confidence of age, an effortless wisdom that reminded Candy of Logan. While the four young studs could physically please her, to make her soft white body explode in pleasure- only a salt-and-pepper daddy could dominate her, could put her in her place and remind her pussy who’s in charge.

The men swiftly entered the lights, and Candy saw them up close for the first time. They were everything she had hoped for! Rugged, sturdy, lustful—huge erections tenting khaki uniform pants and broad shoulders making her feel tiny—the works! The four young men approached for introductions, each engulfing Candy’s tiny, taloned hand in their comparatively larger ones. She didn’t rise from the desk, opting to give them the best look down her blouse. Their gazes were fixated on her lips and tits, and even a few curled around to get a look at her ass. Their names were Johnny, Stewart, ‘Lug,’ and ‘Wheeler.’ She figured the last two were nicknames of some kind and responded to them in kind with a breathy, “Cammi.” 

The older man was the last to approach in his white button-down and black slacks. He stepped forward and gently grasped Candy’s hand. He lifted it to his lips while bending into a slight bow and planting a soft kiss. His mustache tickled the back of her hand. Their eyes met, and Candy melted beneath the older man’s dark brown gaze.

“Gary Green. But you’ll call me Mr. Green.” He said in a slow, deep voice. 

Candy drew a sharp breath and held both the gaze and the hand of Gary. She didn’t feel like she was allowed to look away or put her hand down yet. Gary was instantly in full control, and if she wasn’t already wet, Candy knew she was positively gushing now. The sparse floss of her g-string did little to tamp the flow.

Lost in his gaze for several seconds, Candy finally managed to sputter out, “Y-yes sir, um, Mr. Green.”

Like lightning, Gary surged forward and bent down with his lips puckered. Candy froze and continued to hold his hand, feeling butterflies flapping rapidly in her chest. His hot breath precluded the meeting of their mouths, and he pressed down against her, his warm tongue slipping between her painted lips and exploring her wanton cavity. Candy’s own tongue mingled but ultimately left Gary unimpeded as he imposed his will. Her eyes closed contentedly and she let out an involuntary moan as Gary’s domination of her mouth sent shivers through the rest of her body. His salt-and-pepper mustache scratched against her trembling upper lip and reminded Candy who the man in the equation was. She was receiving; she was yielding; she was submitting. Her smoothness was invaded by roughness; her passive femininity was matched by his active masculinity. Even the configuration of their hands reinforced this dynamic, with his heavy masculine fingers with their rough skin and sparse hair fully enveloping her delicate, smooth, and soft feminine fingers. 

Gary pulled away with a soft *squelch* and let a short trail of shared spit slowly fray and break apart as he lifted his head away. Candy’s eyes remained closed, her heavily made-up cheeks were even more flush, and she took short, ragged breaths with her puffy lips remaining slightly parted. It was clear that she was desperate for more.

He released her hand and grinned before whispering, “Good girl.”

Gary then turned towards the front desk while the other four men glanced at each other with knowing smirks. 

Old man’s got game. 

They dispersed to the various desks in the room and took their seats. Gary rolled up his sleeves, revealing deliciously veiny and sizable forearms, and turned back to the ‘class’ while crossing them. Candy felt yet another wave of horny energy while fixating on Gary and shifted in her chair, briefly uncrossing her legs and feeling cold air rush against her sopping vagina. Behind and around the set the crew assembled cameras, microphones, lights, and all manner of production assets. Logan, Daddy, Dr. Frank, and Molly were all repositioning near the set. 

The scruffy production assistant that had shown Candy to her seat approached once again after an apparent meeting with Dr. Frank. He lifted his headset and opened his hand to Candy, revealing a piece of…pink bubblegum?

He spoke in a loud, muted tone. “The Doc and Mr. Master say you gotta chew this. Say it’ll get you into character.”

Candy looked down at the bubblegum in the man’s slightly bloated palm. She glanced around and knew everybody was waiting on her to be ‘ready.’ Logan looked at her expectantly; Dr. Frank, Daddy, Molly, the crew, the production assistant, the four classmates, Gary—everybody was waiting for her to put Dr. Frank’s gum in her mouth. Could she really refuse? Did she even want to?

With no alternative besides disobeying, Candy picked the square, pale pink glob from the assistant’s hand and tossed it between her lips. She began to chew and tasted a subtle bubblegum flavor that did little to cover the sharp, acrid, somewhat metallic gush of chemicals that flooded her mouth. She almost gagged and considered spitting the wad out but refrained. How embarrassing would that be if she couldn’t handle a piece of gum? Surely Logan would be disappointed—it might even mess up the shoot! Thankfully, Candy found that the more she chewed, the less ‘chemically’ the pink wad tasted, and she was soon smacking her lips together absentmindedly, periodically swallowing as her mouth filled with spit, bubblegum flavor, and chemicals. 

A pleasant buzz began in Candy’s head as her lips rhythmically smacked and she settled deeper into the plastic chair. She flicked at her silky blonde pigtails and giggled to herself for no particular reason. 

With everything and everybody in place, Logan scanned the set and crew before shouting in his clear baritone, “Action!”