The Pact: A Master PC Tale
Chapter 61: A Plan Comes Together

Copyright© 2013 by Rainmaker

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 61: A Plan Comes Together - A Master PC story, and the trials and errors of responsibility. And a teenage ballet school.

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Fa/ft   Ma/mt   Mult   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Mind Control   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   TransGender   Fiction   Celebrity   Slut Wife   Wimp Husband   Incest   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Fisting   Squirting   Lactation  

Way too soon, the time arrived. I wasn’t smiling. In fact, I was a sweating, shaking, nervous wreck.

“Was I this nervous when I married Alyssa?” I asked Doc, who like me was wearing a white tuxedo with khaki pants and sandals.

“Don’t remember,” he said. “I was too drunk to care.”

“Glad to see some things never changed,” I said, sniffing the bourbon that was no doubt soaked into his clothing. “We got any idea when the preacher arrives?”

“Oh, he’s here,” Doc said. “Who do think brought the bourbon?”

I could only laugh at that one. “I’m going back to my room to watch the guests filter in.”

But instead of going straight to my bungalow, I veered off to the big hall that was serving as the wardrobe-slash-changing room. As I suspected, I discovered much of Nicky’s court in various stages of getting dressed.

“Remember. No underwear,” I quipped as I slipped into the room. In a normal world, my arrival would have resulted in screams and women scampering for whatever modesty was available. Not here.

“Hey Larry,” said Amber (she wanted to be called that now). “Interesting choice in these dresses. We look like a fruit salad.”

Indeed, each girl’s dress was a different pastel color, Amber’s of course matching her name. I knew Sara would be wearing a brilliant emerald green, while the others were putting God’s on rainbow to shame.

Stacy was halfway into her luminescent blue dress (not white, thank God), and made no effort to cover up.

“I thought our dresses would be a little more form-fitting than this,” she said, not complaining. “But halter dresses? How 1979 of you, dad.”

“Your dad remembers how I looked in halter dresses,” Alyssa said, stepping from behind a perfunctory changing partition. Hers was a color on the brilliant side of grape. She was right; he shoulders, legs and back were all exquisite; of course, her body was 24 years old again. Out of habit, I took her in my arms and kissed her like she was still mine.

Of course, she was. She just wasn’t allowed to know it.

“I love this color,” Kay said of her golden bronze skirt that brought her tan out. What she didn’t know was that the color was called butterscotch, just like her tasty pussy juice. “But there’s a fire engine red dress hanging here waiting for someone.”

“She’ll be along,” I said. –--

“Grace Kelly did not look any better than you do in that dress,” Arianna told Nicky as she did a slow turn before a full-length mirror. “Makes my wedding dress look like something you’d find at Goodwill. But then, I eloped.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t have a spectacular dress,” Nicky said, not taking her eyes off her own image.

“It wasn’t bad,” Arianna agreed. “It looked like something Bud Wilson found it in a closed department store. But I loved it. I just know it fit me perfectly.”

“I feel like a fairy princess,” Nicky said, turning to face her friend. “I haven’t felt like this since Las Vegas. Is that crazy?”

“Not at all,” said Sara, who had entered quietly and was watching her with lust in her eyes. She stood up and slipped out of her dress in one fluid motion. “Here’s something else you haven’t felt since Vegas.”

Nicky gasped, but offered no objection as Sara knelt down on her dress and slowly lifted the hem of Nicky’s gown. Atop her long legs was a tanned, shaved cunt that was already soaking wet and seemed to be quivering with anticipation. Nicky lifted her gown clear of her legs and Sara slowly secured her mouth onto the whole of the bride-to-be’s snatch. With a slurp, she began the process of drinking her flowing nectar and bringing Nicky to a much-needed orgasm in the process.

It didn’t take long.

While Arianna frigged herself from a respectful distance away, Nicky was crying and whimpering with passion as Sara’s superbly long tongue found places Nicky did not know she had. Sara held her firmly by her rock-solid dancer’s ass, the better to sustain her orgasm into a long, continuous journey into a state of bliss. Nicky never knew she was capable of squirting at all, but she filled Sara’s willing mouth time and again. Still, her red-headed friend did not relax her grip. The more Nicky gushed, the quicker Sara twitched her tongue over her friend’s G spot time and time again. Only when Nicky passed out, relaxing her grip on her dress, did Sara relax her assault.

“That was impressive,” Arianna said. “Too bad that ruins her for the honeymoon.”

Sliding out from under Nicky’s long gown, Sara sat for more than five minutes simply catching her breath. Only when she glanced over at the mirror and saw her hair in a red tangle did she regroup. She borrowed Nicky’s hairbrush and quickly restored order, but saw with some disgust and distress that her maid of honor’s dress was soaked. She glanced at the clock and decided she had time to clean up, and quickly threw it into one of the retreat’s washing machines.

The hum and the rocking motion of the machine gave the twp friends an idea, and they lowered themselves onto the industrial sized unit and let the vibration, the hum and the motion send Arianna and Sara into her own prolonged state of bliss. The bad news was that the was cycle was only about 10 minutes long; the good news was that the dryer needed another 15 minutes to restore her dress to its pristine state.


A little over 15 minutes later, an exotic-looking, tanned girl who no one knew, hair wrapped in a towel, stuck her head around the corner of the man door.

“Is this the wardrobe room for the Childers-Moore wedding?” she asked, wide-eyed at the dozens of colorful dresses hanging nearby. “I’m Suzanne Moore, the bride’s ... mother?”

Sara, her own dress still warm from the dryer, hugged the petite girl, who clearly had a dancer’s body like the other girls present. “The red one is yours,” she said. Suzanne, understanding the vibe of the room, let her robe slide to the floor and pulled the towel off her hair. Most of the other women present watched the woman slack jawed as she pulled on the perfectly fitting red dress.

“Isn’t she, like, 70 years old?” Kay whispered to Anita, whose own salmon colored dress hung next to the red.

“The more I know, the less I understand,” Anita said as she pulled off her t-shirt and shorts. “Hi, I’m Anita.”

Suzanne shook the naked girl’s hand. “How are you related to Larry?”

“That’s ... complicated,” Anita replied. “I just wanted to ask you if you would like some help getting your hair fixed.”

“Thank you, yes,” Suzanne said gratefully. “I get confused sometimes. I’d forgot that it was so close to the time of the ceremony when I washed my hair.”

“It’s beautiful,” Anita said, pulling on and adjusting her own dress. “Sit here and I’ll do the honors.”

Suzanne sat down in front of a dresser and saw her new self for the first time.

“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing at the mirror.

“It’s complicated,” Anita said, lightly kissing the woman’s neck. Suzanne shivered.

Sara stepped away and pushed a speed-dial button on her phone. Joanie answered.

 
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