Cammi turned her eyes towards Gary, who was standing at the front of the classroom set. Her gaze was half-lidded and already rife with arousal. She focused on the crotch of Gary’s pants, hoping to catch a glimpse of the black anaconda she knew he was packing.
He approached the blackboard and snatched a piece of chalk. Using deliberate, aggressive strokes, he spelled out ‘DETENTION’ in surprisingly neat cursive.
Turning back to the class, he tossed the chalk down and folded his arms. His voice was bored and disappointed. “Now ya’ll know why ya’ll is here. Bunch’a ignant niggas runnin’ them streets, skipping they classes, thinkin’ they some real gangstas. This shit gon’ end up gettin’ you shot or locked up, feel me?”
The skinniest of the young men, ‘Wheeler,’ scoffed from behind his front desk, trying to keep his head down.
Cammi’s horny energy caused her foot to tap as she waited for her cue. She smacked her gum and gently tousled her silky pigtails. The string of her underwear was completely soaked, and she was barely paying attention to whatever ‘story’ was supposed to be taking place.
Gary stomped in front of Wheeler’s desk and looked down at him while asking sternly, “The fuck you laughin’ at, nigga? This shit funny to you?”
Wheeler glanced up with a mocking grin; his higher-pitched voice answered nonchalantly, “Tch, shut the fuck up, Unc. None’a these boys care bout yo’ stupid ass speeches.”
Gary stiffened and glanced around the room, seeing the other three boys nodding with agreement. He then turned and fixated on Cammi, who perked up slightly beneath his gaze.
He spoke to her: “That leaves you, Miss Swallows. I know you been suckin’ and fuckin’ these niggas dicks while they out triflin’. When it come down to it, you the reason they doin’ what they doin’. A baddie trick like you givin’ up her holes for all the boys doin’ hood rat shit gon’ make all the boys do hood rat shit, you feel me?”
Cammi kept her gaze down but subtly pressed her tits forward, obscenely displaying her barely contained assets. Her parody of a schoolgirl outfit was as close to baring everything as possible and reeked of female arousal. She stayed silent.
Gary shook his head and shrugged, “Well, if none of ya’ll care, then I don’t neither. Two hours of sitting here with no talkin’, no cell phones, nothin’.”
An audible groan permeated the space from the boys.
‘Lug’ grunted from his back desk. On his dark forehead, a glistening bead of sweat ran down in a long column. He wiped it away before speaking, “Come on, Mr. Green. You ain’t wanna be here, we ain’t wanna be here. Nobody wanna be here! Just let us go.”
Gary shook his head. “Can’t. I’d get in trouble, ain’t worth it for me unless…”
His voice trailed off and he glanced at Cammi.
“Unless what, Mr. Green?” Lug asked.
Gary responded sharply, as if trying to sound as professional as possible, “Unless Miss Swallows wants to earn all ya’lls freedom by playin’ a little game.”
All four boys gave Gary their attention, clearly interested in whatever he was proposing. With the subject shifting to her, Cammi tuned back into the scene.
Gary asked her directly, “What you think, Cammi? You wanna step up and earn a ticket outta here for you an’ the boys?”
From behind the camera, Logan loudly called Cammi’s line, “Okay, Mr. Green, I’ll do anything.”
Cammi gently nodded, popped a big pink bubble, and cast her half-lidded gaze up to Gary while playing with her pigtails, her lilting voice a squeaky giggle. “Like, totally, Mr. Green! I’ll, um, like, do anything.”
Gary beckoned Cammi forward and pointed at his desk. “Aight, Miss Swallows, hands on my desk facing the chalkboard, bend over and spread your legs. Boys, form a line on the other side of the desk and face her.”
Cammi pushed herself up onto her feet and dropped the tiny backpack with ‘Cammi Swallows—Grade 11’ on it. Her legs felt weak and trembled as she started moving. The boys were a flurry of activity; each one wore a lustful grin across their face.
Logan yelled, “Sway those hips Cammi! Give us the goods, slut!”
Cammi felt yet another rush of arousal spike between her legs as she obeyed Logan’s command and put extra emphasis on rolling her hips and clapping her ass. She strutted down the row of desks with her heels clicking on the linoleum and her tits and hair bouncing in the skimpy schoolgirl outfit.
Her lips smacked loudly on the gum, and chemicals gushed down her throat with each rhythmic chew. She could feel something shifting in her as she walked—she could feel the chemicals were…preparing her body for something, priming her for some unknown process. Without the lights, without the cameras, without the dozens of onlookers, and without the pressure emanating from Daddy, Logan, Dr. Frank, Molly, Brad, Ariana, the crew, the man on the phone, and her fellow actors, Cammi may have spit Dr. Frank’s gum out; she may have stopped and demanded to know why she felt so strange—but, instead, Candy ignored her concerns and stopped before the front desk, jutting her hip to the side.
The boys were lined up behind the desk facing Cammi, each one viewing her with lecherous grins and rubbing hands, as if they were preparing to eat a delicious meal. Their eagerness was overflowing, and they arranged themselves in a tight line with Wheeler taking the front position. He peered down at Cammi, and she immediately noticed the tent in his khaki pants. Cammi’s mouth felt suddenly empty despite the gum, and she stifled a girlish giggle. She may have had the day off from working the gloryhole, but she was itching to give some head. Her throat was SO ready for a BBC!
“You like what you see, bitch?” Wheeler asked, his high voice confident as his hand jostled his junk.
Cammi nodded and listlessly stared at his crotch, drool escaping her smacking lips. Her pigtails swayed gently on the sides of her head, which suddenly felt like it was filled with fog and molasses.
Gary approached and stood next to Cammi. His presence felt powerful and overbearing. He tapped his fingers on the desk as he ordered, “Hands on the desk, young lady. Bend over and spread your legs.”
Cammi instantly slapped her hands on the desk with her fingers splayed open. Her long acrylics tapped against the wood, and their blue color shined in the artificial light. She opened her legs with a high-heeled *clack,* and cold air wafted against the soaking fire burning between her thighs. Bending at the waist, Cammi knew the only thing left between her snatch and Gary’s fat dick was a few layers of cloth.
Logan’s voice sounded a million miles away as he shouted, “Now what, Mr. Green?”
Cammi bit her lower lip and inhaled sharply before speaking, her breathy voice dripping with sexual desire, “Like, now what, Mr. Green? Are you gonna spank me? I’ve totally been super naughty.”
He spoke calmly, but Cammi could tell Gary was barely holding himself together. “We gon’ play a trivia game. Mr. Tatum, get on yo’ knees on the desk and show Miss Swallows what you packin’.”
Wheeler excitedly hopped onto the desk with a wooden creak. He dropped to his knees and thrust his hips forward, nestling between Cammi’s hands. His erection was directly in front of her mouth, and she could feel her hot, ragged breaths bouncing back against his khakis. He loosened his belt and unzipped his pants, which was a sound Cammi was intimately familiar with after over a month of gloryhole work. She smacked her gum and watched closely as Wheeler’s black erection sprang out and scraped against her lips.
Cammi reflexively parted her enhanced, ultra-sensitive, pouty love pillows and attempted to surge forward, anticipating the feeling of a warm, throbbing black rod sliding into her drooling mouth and the accompanying surge of arousal. Instead, Cammi stopped short as her head was held fast in Gary’s iron grip.
“Not so fast, little slut.” Gary chuckled with his huge hand anchored to Cammi’s forehead.
Cammi’s eyes crossed as she fixated on the penis just centimeters from her desperate maw. She NEEDED it! She let out a high-pitched, frustrated grunt as she tried forcing her head forward, only to find Gary wasn’t giving an inch.
Her pathetic attempts to resist Gary’s will stopped when his free hand snaked beneath her skirt. His fingers wrapped around the string of her underwear, and he peeled it away from her swampy snatch with a wet *schlick.* The skimpy garment pooled around Cammi’s ankles, and she knew her holes were on full display for Gary. She arched her back and rolled her hips forward just a little more to ensure he had the best view possible.
The musky, masculine scent of sweaty dick wafted to Cammi’s nose as her foggy mind became awash with fantasies of Gary grabbing her hips and claiming her pussy for himself. He kept one hand on her forehead while the other caressed the womanly swell of her soft ass. She stayed still but felt horny energy surging all over her body as Gary’s fingers probed closer and closer to her vagina. Each breath filled Cammi’s lungs with a musky penis scent, and her mouth smacked the gum and stayed perpetually open while her head periodically attempted to bob forward and suck. It was a mechanical, automatic motion that Cammi didn’t even need to think about anymore. Her body and mind were programmed and conditioned to give blowjobs.
Gary removed his probing hand, which disappointed Cammi for a quick second before elation took its place as she heard his zipper going down. She couldn’t help but squirm and slowly rock her hips while a string of sticky girl cum dribbled from her presented cunt.
Without any further ceremony, Cammi’s tiny hands tightened on the wooden desk as Gary’s cockhead parted her labia. She took a sharp, penis-scented inhale and let out a soft, pleasured coo. She expected him to plunge in, to slam his BBC into her yielding white womanhood, to spank her and pound her mercilessly—but he didn’t. Instead, his bulbous, mushroom-shaped head remained the only part inside her.
Gary leaned over and spoke in a low, smoky voice, “Now that we acquainted, Ima ask you some questions. You get enough right and ya’ll walk outta here. But if you get em wrong...Well, you’ll see.”
Before she could process his words, Cammi’s mind went blank and she moaned as Gary started slowly thrusting in and out with just the head of his penis. She couldn’t see what his manhood looked like, but she could just FEEL it was massive! Her gummy pussy throbbed and gushed with desire at his teasing thrusts, and a soft squelching sound squirted around his dick with each repetition. Cammi felt good but distinctly unsatisfied—she wanted it all! Wheeler had begun slowly stroking his length, pointing it directly at Cammi’s dolled up face. She was mesmerized and drooled lightly as she chewed her chemical-laced gum.
“Aight, Miss Swallows,” Gary huffed while lightly thrusting, “First question: Which player has scored the most points in NBA history?”
Cammi watched as Wheeler’s hand began moving faster, his black testicles jostling with each repetition. He let out a soft grunting noise as his eyes stayed fixated on Cammi, who barely knew the first thing about basketball.
“Um…Is it, like, Michael Jordan?” She answered, tossing out the only name that came to mind.
“Wrong! The answer is LeBron James,” Gary retorted.
Gary released Cammi’s forehead, and his hands relocated to her ass cheeks, which he spread open, exposing her intimate parts even more. Cammi craned her neck to see what Gary was doing behind her and gasped as he suddenly started thrusting deeper into her snatch. Each thrust now featured a few inches of dark meat in addition to his cockhead, and Cammi felt her vagina stretch to accommodate. The familiar sting of a tearing hymen pricked between her legs, a daily reminder that her body had been forever altered courtesy of Dr. Frank. The pain barely registered, as she had experienced the sensation nearly every day for the past month, bent over and pressed up against the glory hole.
Returning her gaze forward, Cammi had no time to prepare as Wheeler groaned and his cock exploded just centimeters from her face. Ropes of hot, sticky seed blasted her heavily made-up features and open mouth. She chewed her gum, which now tasted like chemicals mixed with semen.
But something happened as Wheeler squeezed the last few drops onto Cammi’s already sticky forehead. The strange receptive feeling she had experienced earlier, the feeling of the chemicals preparing her body for something, started once again. This time, the feeling was stronger, and the hot lines of cum freshly deposited from Wheeler’s manhood strangely began to cool at a rapid pace.
The semen quickly turned cold, and Cammi involuntarily trembled as the chemicals coursing through her body began absorbing Wheeler’s seed. The receptive feeling crescendoed, and Cammi felt the chill seeping into her head like the worst brain freeze she had ever experienced. She let out a low, pained moan and closed her eyes as images and memories flashed rapidly through her mind. The mental stimulus was overwhelming, and her awareness of physical sensations seemed to dull and fade. Her faintly bleeding, wet pussy being penetrated, her heavy tits bouncing free from her top and scraping against the rough wooden desk, even the heavy spank of Gary’s hand on her exposed ass barely registered as her brain was rewired.
An early memory burst into Cammi’s mind and solidified. She must have been six or seven, trying her best to learn to read. Most of the other kids in her class were already becoming proficient, and she still struggled recognizing even simple words. She remembered sitting in the primary school classroom after everybody had left, crying her eyes out that she couldn’t do what the other kids could, couldn’t make the letters stay where they were supposed to. But this particular day was different. Cammi recalled that one teacher, Mrs. Calligan, swept in and held Cammi, telling her it was going to be okay and promising that they would work every day until Cammi was just as good as the other kids. It turned out that with the diligent assistance of a caring teacher with a little can-do attitude, Cammi could accomplish anything!
The chill seeped into the memory, and Cammi watched as it vibrated and changed. Piece by piece, image by image, the formative experience collapsed and reformed, colder and more isolated than before.
Cammi remembered that same day. She was always a slow learner, but reading was especially difficult. The letters just didn’t seem to stay in the right places. By six or seven, she was barely able to recognize words while her fellow students were already reading full sentences. Cammi recalled staying after class and crying, wishing she could be just as smart as the other kids. Through bleary eyes, she saw Mrs. ... somebody ... Cammi couldn’t remember her name, looking through the window into the classroom and rolling her eyes at the sobbing little girl. She remembered the feeling of the teacher not caring—of giving up on her, and it stuck in her head like glue. She just wasn’t cut out for learning, and the teacher knew it.
A cascading series of alterations instantly sapped a noticeable chunk of Cammi’s cognitive abilities while significantly affecting other memories. Her inability was cemented hundreds and hundreds of times over by severing old neural pathways and replacing them with new ones. Connections to understanding and competence were systematically overwritten by ignorance and incompetence.
Without any early help, Cammi’s reading ability was always multiple years behind her classmates. She accepted early on that she was simply dumber and less capable than other kids. This learned inferiority infected hundreds of other school memories, each one getting colder and less hopeful. She went from barely scraping by in regular classes to barely scraping by in remedial classes. It was well known by everybody that Cammi Swallows was dumb, dumb, dumb, and PROUD of it. By the time she dropped out in her junior year, Cammi was barely able to read at a sixth-grade level.
Opening her eyes, Cammi snapped back to reality, and the physical sensations rushed back like a train: the sopping heat and gentle sting between her legs; the light heft of Gary’s shallow thrusts; the weight of her heavy tits jiggling on her chest; the sticky seed coating her face, which, thankfully, no longer felt freezing cold; and the dull throbbing pain from a few spanks delivered to her ass.
Through a string of cum, Cammi read the word ‘DETENTION’ on the board before the sweaty body of ‘Lug’ got in the way while Wheeler hopped off the desk with a satisfied grin. Cammi thought she had been reliving one of her memories for a few minutes, but only a fraction of a second had passed! She smacked her gum, causing a gush of chemicals to slide down her throat while Lug positioned his crotch directly in her face. He unceremoniously flopped his big black dick from his khakis, and the musky stench of unwashed penis wafted hot and heavy through Cammi’s nostrils. She sniffed heartily and grew a toothy smile while a new shiver of arousal arced through her. The smell of cock was familiar and usually precipitated her favorite thing in the world: sex.
“Question two!” Gary grunted between shallow thrusts, his deep, reverberating voice slightly strained. “What year was the emancipation proclamation?”
The dark mushroom of Lug’s cockhead hovered closely to Cammi’s sticky face. She followed it with her eyes as it drew closer and closer until she was fully crossing them. It gave Cammi a dumb, unfocused, cross-eyed stare that visibly reduced her intelligence. She looked like a total airhead! As if to exemplify this dynamic further, Cammi unconsciously opened her mouth, and a few drops of spit slipped from between her enhanced lips. The chemically laced gum gushed into her mouth and smacked between her teeth.
Gary’s voice was filled with annoyance and arousal. “I need an answer, Miss Swallows!”
Cammi was completely transfixed by Lug’s penis while his hand furiously masturbated centimeters from her features. The question barely registered in her brain, and she simply responded with a vapid squeak, “Uhm, like, 1776?”
Gary smacked her ass once again as he bellowed, “Wrong! The answer is 1863.”
Cammi’s long acrylic nails tightened on the wooden desk as Gary’s thrusts bore deeper into her tingling vagina. He was now stuffing over half of his nine-inch dick with each plunge, and she felt a rush of heat and electricity radiating between her legs. With each thrust, Gary’s heavy black balls periodically scraped against Cammi’s butt cheeks, which were becoming red and pulsating lightly from repeated spankings. Cammi curled her painted toenails in her heels as a breathy giggle escaped her thickened, drooling lips. A masculine grunt overpowered her girlish giggle, and an explosion of cum blasted directly onto her face. Heavy ropes from Lug’s dick crisscrossed Wheeler’s contribution and added new lines on Cammi’s forehead, eyes, lips, and nose—seed was being deposited everywhere!
But once again, Cammi felt her physical sensations dulling, numbing to the world as Lug’s hot semen now loaded on her face quickly cooled. The receptive sensation returned, and Cammi’s brain snapped with a painful freeze. She was pulled back into a memory.
The first year of high school had been extremely challenging for Cammi. Only one month into her freshman year, Cammi was already failing her remedial-level classes. At this point, even middle school-level math and reading were too advanced. She remembered staying behind after the bell to plead with the teacher, Mr. Kreyt, a middle-aged white man in a cheap suit. She explained her troubles honestly, telling Mr. Kreyt that she would do whatever it took to get better and pass the class. Taking pity on her, Mr. Kreyt recommended an acclaimed local tutor, gave her extra assignments to complete, and worked with her diligently until, by the end of freshman year, Cammi was finally up to a middle school level. She still wasn’t anywhere near where she needed to be, but with hard work she had caught up a little bit…
A chilling fracture formed in the memory and filled in with new information.
Cammi struggled so much during the first month of freshman year. Despite not being at even a middle school level in any subject, she still had crazy dreams of passing high school and catching up to the other students. When all her peers had left the remedial classroom, Cammi approached Mr. Kreyt, the middle-aged white teacher in a cheap suit. Cammi recalled telling Mr. Kreyt that she would do anything to pass his class. However, in this new, colder memory, Cammi remembered Mr. Kreyt closing the door to the classroom and offering ‘extra credit.’ Blowing Mr. Kreyt was easy enough; he didn’t have much stamina, and the sheer volume of semen surging down her throat told Cammi he hadn’t cum in a while. After a few after-school encounters, Cammi suddenly found herself passing Mr. Kreyt’s class…but there was still Mr. Oliver’s class, and Dr. Julianos’ class, and Mr. Perez’s class… A busy semester of sucking, fucking, moaning, and bargaining—a semester on her knees in cramped spaces under desks; lying on her back with her legs open in secluded classrooms; bouncing on cocks in the back of parked cars; and bent over in the supply room—learning to use her adolescent but still developed body to get men to do what she wanted. Why learn anything and put intellectual effort in when she could use her mouth, hands, ass, and pussy as a shortcut?
Cammi still dropped out at the end of her sophomore year, but the altering of her... academic strategy during the first semester of freshman year significantly affected her overall outcome. Using her body in a quid pro quo with adult men became a pillar of Cammi’s personality and her default, ‘go-to’ strategy for dealing with problems. Since she can't beat them, she’ll blow them! Without any effort left for actual learning, Cammi’s academic skills atrophied, and she never got close to even a middle school level of proficiency. The frigid feeling of rewiring in her brain closed off countless neural pathways and banished textbooks’ worth of knowledge to be replaced by…nothing. Nothing but slightly enhanced sexual skills and decreased shame. Cammi instinctively knew the only thing she was good at was being a cumrag—but at least she was a cumrag with passing grades!
Sensation suddenly returned: five inches of Gary’s thrusting dick glistening with arousal fluids and hymen blood, her trembling legs, her bouncing pigtails, her hands pressed into the wood, and her huge breasts squished against the cold desk. Cammi looked through bleary, cum-covered eyes as Lug stepped down from the desk while zipping his pants. There was a large word on the board that she stared at and tried to read. Cammi squinted and moved her lips to phonetically read ‘De,’ ‘ten,’ and ‘tion.’ Detention! It said detention!
Cammi’s enhanced lips curled into a cummy smile as she smacked the chemical gum.
She could read good!
Gary got Cammi’s attention once again with a hearty smack of her ass, causing her flesh to redden further. She yelped as ejaculate oozed down her face. She could feel her makeup running, likely only adding to the effect.
“Final question, Slut,” Gary sputtered, his arousal clearly starting to get the better of him. “Wh-Where was the *pant* where was the ‘I Have a Dream’ speech *ugh* where was it given?”
This time, both remaining men, Johnny and Stewart, were mounting the desk. As Gary finished his question, Cammi became completely transfixed by TWO big black cocks in front of her face.
She unconsciously opened her mouth wide, wanting nothing more than to have even more black men inside her. She smelled their masculine musk, felt their pent-up yearning for release, and saw their swinging, heavy testicles brimming with a biological imperative to overflow a warm hole with superior black seed. She wanted to lean forward and envelop their shafts, to BE the warm hole, to feel their veins and folds sliding along her tongue and down her throat, but—but Gary told her not to! He was in control of her pussy—he was in control of her. She had to listen to him! Barely keeping herself in check, the thought of black cocks filling every hole ran rampant through Cammi’s still-transforming brain. The chill had lessened since the last burst, but it was still present inside, continuing to subtly change mannerisms, memories, skills, and overall personality.
“Well?” Gary shouted, “A-answer me you stupid whore!”
Cammi stared up through the sticky veil at Johnny and Stewart as they furiously jerked off directly in front of her face. She crossed her eyes again, adopting the increasingly comfortable, borderline default look of a stupid, vacant bimbo. It now felt very natural for her to show off just how unimportant and shallow her thoughts and opinions were through unfocused, cross-eyed, mouth-drooling, lip-smacking, breathy, giggling, and completely unfocused expressions. Chemically laced spit trickled from her open mouth as she responded absently, “Hm. Um, like, I dunno, like, Hollywood or something?”
“Wrong again you stupid fucking skank! This *ugh* this white cunt is MINE!” Gary yelled triumphantly.
Gary wrapped his hands around Cammi’s wide hips and anchored himself before slamming his own hips forward and plunging all nine inches of his BBC into Cammi’s vagina. She gasped and moaned deeply while a renewed explosion of pleasure tore through her body. Gary’s massive dick filled her completely, and his heavy balls slapped between her legs with each thrust. The ultimate symbol of Gary’s maleness, his testicles, his biological and evolutionarily crafted proof of masculinity, his external reproductive organs, slapped rhythmically against Cammi’s Venus mound, ready to breed, to fill, to fertilize, and to dominate. Cammi’s female reproductive organs, her biological and evolutionarily crafted proof of femininity, her eggs, fallopian tubes, uterus, and vagina were all primed and ready to receive, to incubate, to nurture, and to submit. That he had something to fill the void between her legs made the dichotomy, the significant biological differences between them, male and female, even more stark.
On cue, Johnny and Stewart ejaculated, one after the other. Johnny went high, into Cammi’s hair, while Stewart went low and blasted her chin, neck, and breasts. The cold was even stronger with two loads, and Cammi looked to the board as she felt Johnny’s seed oozing into her hair and Stewart’s load dripping from her chin and across her tits.
Her brain was cold and fuzzy, but this time her physical sensations weren't dull. Instead, Cammi felt every inch of Gary’s dick pistoning inside her at a faster and faster rate with more violent force. His hands cinched on her hips tighter while her entire upper body dripped with seed.
The words on the board, ‘De,’ ‘ten,’ and ‘tion,’ started to look more and more confusing. Cammi’s pussy clenched as Gary’s thrusts became rapid; she knew they were both close to orgasm.
‘De’ ‘ten’ ‘tion’
The word she had phonetically read earlier started looking more complicated and daunting. It broke from three readable parts into single letters.
‘D’ ‘e’ ‘t’ ‘e’ ‘n’ ‘t’ ‘i’ ‘o’ ‘n’
Gary spanked Cammi rapidly as he screamed something about ‘dominating white pussy.’ She tightened her vaginal walls and felt her legs quivering even more. She put more weight on her enhanced tits to compensate. She recognized the letters, but the cold, throbbing changes in her brain chemistry ensured that familiarity didn’t last long.
‘t’ ‘i’ ‘D’ ‘n’ ‘n’ ‘o’ ‘e’ ‘e’ ‘t’
The letters moved in Cammi’s cummy vision becoming increasingly unrecognizable as a word. The freeze systematically transformed her memories and experiences. Every moment of learning, discovery, and success was soured and destroyed, replaced by ignorance, debauchery, and failure.
Cammi squealed and held tightly to the desk while Gary inserted himself all the way, his coarse pubic hair scratching against Cammi’s asshole. Her eyes remained crossed, and a trail of drool slipped down her lower lip as an orgasm rippled through her body. The word on the board was completely incomprehensible to Cammi now. A collection of lines in a configuration that she knew was letters, but she was utterly unable to read any of it.
III—_I-I-IOIo-II_-IIo
With a grunt, Gary’s balls began pulsating against her Venus mound, and Cammi felt his load splattering against her cervix and painting her vaginal walls with his wad. She could actually feel the contraction of his testicles on her skin, heralding the deposit of a creampie.
With her quivering legs finally giving out completely, Cammi sagged helplessly on the desk and down on her tits, which slowly started leaking thin rivulets of breast milk. Her body convulsed and her vagina clenched rhythmically like a fleshy metronome enveloping Gary’s shaft and milking every drop.
The light from a handheld camera captured Cammi’s cross-eyed, vacant stare with her cum-coated, ultra-feminine teenage face, drooling from her enhanced lips, bent over the desk with a flipped-up miniskirt; a convulsing, orgasming, creampied vagina filled with black cock, resting on giant fake tits leaking milk in a tiny feminine top; her ass sticking out with a slutty tramp stamp; hairless legs shaking uselessly; tall heels with delicate and tiny painted toes; a skimpy g-string pooled around the ankles; and hands scrunched into tiny balls with extra-long acrylic nails.
Logan’s deep voice cut through the noise, “That’s it, Cammi, keep that bimbo look going. Gary, pull out and show the camera what you did.”
Gary withdrew his glistening, softening penis with a wet *schlorp* but kept his hands cupping Cammi’s ass cheeks. It was a good thing he did because Cammi knew she would have collapsed without his support. The camera captured a wavering strand of sticky sexual juices connecting Gary’s deflating black cock to Cammi’s puffy white pussy. He stopped and let the shiny strand warble for a second as if to remind the audience that these opposite genitals had just fucked and been fucked in a textbook heterosexual display of sex. Without a cock inside her, Cammi felt empty and immediately yearned for another black dick. The overwhelming pleasure of orgasm was slowly starting to fade from her body as Gary spread her cheeks and bared her aroused, completely stuffed pussy to the camera.
Logan shouted, “Cammi, give us a little twerk, make it drip.”
Cammi let out a high-pitched, contented *hmm* as she followed Logan’s instruction and started twerking lightly into Gary’s hands, shaking her ass and dripping semen in short bursts from the motion. One last panning shot shifted to Cammi’s contented, vacant, cum-covered, gum-smacking, cross-eyed bimbo stare.
“And cut!” Logan proclaimed.
Cammi tentatively stood on shaky legs to a round of thunderous applause. She curled her enhanced lips into a smile and basked in the attention, almost forgetting that she was performing at all. There was a strange…void in Cammi’s head. She trailed her empty eyes across the row of smiling faces while searching her head for…well, she didn’t really know. Something was wrong—something was wrong—something was—
Wait, was it?
She dug deeper. She could recall all her core memories as an illiterate slut alongside her affinity for black cocks, her natural submissiveness, her overt sexuality, her loyalty to Daddy, her desperation for attention, and her complete disdain for anything remotely scholarly. Nothing about that had changed, clearly. Ignorance and blind devotion were core tenants of her personality and always had been. Cammi knew that about herself. A stupid, cross-eyed, glazed-over stare slowly blossomed on her face as she attempted to contemplate her situation. Cammi’s tongue lolled out of her mouth while she probed the uncomfortable and deeply buried feeling that something was amiss. The harder she thought, the dumber she looked until she was left twirling her pigtails around her acrylic nails, drooling from an extended tongue and giggling uncontrollably with her eyes fully crossed and unfocused.
Snapping back to reality thanks to the withdrawal of any deeper thoughts, Cammi clutched at her sticky temple and took a breath. Thinking was so hard, and Cammi didn’t want to do it anymore! What was the point of thinking if it just hurt and got her nowhere!?
The only crew member not clapping was Molly, who quickly approached holding a thick brown towel in a rubber-gloved hand. Cammi thought Molly was offering her the towel to clean her face, so she reached for it while preparing to thank her.
“No,” Molly said abruptly, her voice sharp and serious. “Spit the gum into the towel. Now.”
Cammi bent slightly at the waist and spit the chemical gum into the towel as ordered. Molly’s words didn’t sound like a request. She wrapped the gum quickly and aggressively as if it were a dangerous animal. Molly then turned and walked briskly towards Dr. Frank, holding the towel at arms length.
Before Cammi could contemplate Molly’s actions, Logan was already shoving a slightly damp rag into her hands and speaking down. “Such a legendary performance, Cammi, you’re a fucking star! Literally!” Logan praised.
Cammi thanked him while taking the towel, feeling Gary’s seed still dripping down her thighs and four loads gleaming on her face and upper body. She began to wipe her face, unable to stop herself from covertly licking some of the mixed ejaculate from the towel. Her chest felt warm and fluttery while pleasure rocketed between her legs as she swallowed. Her lactating nipples continued their steady stream as she wiped away the sticky remnants of her sexual escapades.
Logan procured a pink robe and showed it to Cammi. There was something written on the back, but Cammi couldn’t read any of it.
=_II-\.-o_
Wedging the damp, cum-covered towel between her hairless thighs, Cammi reached out and accepted the robe, feeling the silky material rubbing against her arms and neck. She wrestled her lactating breasts back into the skimpy top and removed the towel before putting her g-string back into place. It was instantly eaten up by her puffy pussy and flooded with Gary’s deposit, which was still leaking out. She flipped her skirt back down and wrapped herself in the robe, tying it around her narrow waist. Satisfied, Logan gave Cammi a final once-over before walking towards the crew.
With her brain finally feeling normal again, Cammi strutted towards Daddy with her exaggerated feminine sway. Daddy was pacing impatiently off to the side while smoking a joint, his unmistakable pimp outfit hanging off his sinewy body like a stereotypical caricature. He was the example picture in the dictionary for ‘pimp,’ or maybe the direct result of the AI prompt: ‘Generate a stereotypical pimp.’ His outfit, effortless confidence, lingo, and mannerisms—Daddy was a tried-and-true ‘manager’ of sex workers in every discernible way. A cloud of marijuana smoke billowed from his thin lips as his suspicious eyes fixated on Cammi and he stopped pacing. His mouth curled into a sneer, and he flicked the joint away. Cammi’s heels clicked on the concrete floor as she exited the classroom set and took tiny, mincing steps. She could still feel drying cum in her blonde pigtails and a thin layer coating her supple thighs and teenage face, mixing with her destroyed makeup. It seemed that the damp towel could only do so much and left her with a visible, crusty reminder of her recent activity.
Considering her appearance, Cammi was the complete opposite of Daddy. She was the example picture in the dictionary for ‘ho,’ or maybe the direct result of the AI prompt: ‘Generate a stereotypical ho.’ Her slutty, cum-covered appearance; surgically enhanced, provocative body; submissive and overtly sexual mannerisms; and vapid speech pattern—Cammi was an owned and operated sex worker in every discernable way.
As she moved across the floor, Cammi noticed Brad and Ariana on the far end of the warehouse. Brad looked a little taller as he was now wobbling on a pair of high heels. His ‘Director’s Assistant’ shirt still fit strangely over his altered body, and his face was tastefully enhanced with makeup. Ariana was walking in a straight line next to Brad and appeared to be instructing him. Brad nodded along diligently while swallowing a small handful of pills. Cammi watched as Logan approached the pair aggressively and yelled something at Brad, who immediately recoiled submissively while apologizing. Brad turned and sprinted towards the far door like a whipped dog, stumbling on his heels, which smacked loudly and echoed into the ceiling.
Cammi shook her head. What a loser Brad was! She couldn’t believe she’d let him put his cock inside her.
Pulling the pink robe around herself more tightly, Cammi approached Daddy and smiled up at him, excited to follow wherever he led.
“Bout time, ho,” Daddy coolly remarked. “Move that ass out to my ride. Gon’ get you back to work. Earn me some fuckin’ money.”
Cammi’s chest fluttered and her smile widened into a full toothy grin as she imagined the gloryhole beneath the liquor store. She was going to suck and fuck even more cocks today! How lucky!
A loud *SMACK* echoed into the ceiling as Daddy’s hand cracked across Cammi’s ass. She giggled and clicked towards the door, followed closely by Daddy, whose heavy hand remained tightly against her booty. Daddy flashed the Hispanic bouncer a confident sneer as they passed him while forcing Cammi forward with an aggressive shove. She nearly toppled over but caught herself on the wall and mumbled vacantly about being clumsy. Her pink silky pink robe fluttered around her skimpy schoolgirl outfit as she pushed out into the sunlight.
Standing on the cracked sidewalk, Cammi’s eyes slowly adjusted to the bright sunlight. She felt elated at the prospect of working in the gloryhole! Filming and being a pornstar was fun and all, but nothing beat the thrill of watching an unknown man’s cock slide through the wall.
Daddy pushed Cammi again, and she skipped forward but stayed on her heeled feet.
He surged past her towards his waiting car while berating her, “Move yo’ lazy ass, ho! You ain’t makin’ my money standin’ around!”
“Yes, Daddy. Sorry, Daddy.” Cammi responded sheepishly.
She strutted towards the car but turned to look at a group of people watching her from further down the sidewalk. It looked like a prim-and-proper white family that was very much in the wrong neighborhood. Cammi saw a nice Suburban parked on the side of the street with a blown tire. A middle-aged man and woman stood with a young boy and girl. The adults watched Cammi with a mix of pity, disgust, and fear while holding their children close.
Cammi stopped and cocked her head to the side, contemplating why the family was looking at her like that, like she was some dangerous animal or an alien. Her completely vacant brain was struggling to keep up. After a few seconds of processing, she cried out in pain as Daddy’s hand unexpectedly wrapped around the back of her neck. He shoved her forward towards the car, and she grunted, barely able to stay on her feet. A tight pain radiated beneath his squeezing fingers.
He bellowed, “You ain’t listen, do you, ho? You gon’ hafta suck so much dick so I don’t whoop your lazy, fat fuckin’ ass! Get in the motherfuckin’ car!”
He shoved Cammi into the passenger’s seat while she repeatedly screamed out pained apologies. Daddy turned to the family, who were completely frozen in place with horrified expressions, believing they were watching a pimp and ho in the ghetto.
Daddy scoffed and spoke to the family calmly, “Whatchu lookin’ at crackas? Ain’t you never seen a man teachin’ a bitch how to behave? Fuck outta here.”
With that, Daddy climbed into the driver’s seat while Cammi gently rubbed her sore, red neck. She cursed at herself for getting distracted and wasting Daddy’s time. She was so selfish! Daddy was important, and his time was infinitely valuable. On the other hand, Cammi knew her time was worthless just as she was worthless. She was SO lucky that Daddy put up with her lazy, stupid brain! She took a determined breath and wished desperately that she could get her shit together and make managing her somewhat tolerable.
Daddy’s old school vehicle lurched to life and sped away, back toward the liquor store, while the family retreated to their disabled suburban. Every sign she saw, every word, every letter—they were completely incomprehensible to Cammi.
With her gaze submissively held down, Cammi fluttered her fingers against the soft pink robe. She hoped Daddy wasn’t mad enough to withhold the new clothing he promised. Maybe if she sucked and fucked real good, she could earn it back! She was so familiar with the idea of tit-for-tat that it made perfect sense in her vacuous head. At least she had this nice new robe!
Just because the robe said “DUMB SLUT” in bold, rhinestone letters on the back didn’t mean she couldn’t love wearing it!
Not that she could read anymore, but Cammi would have agreed with it.
