Maikle: переводы

→“Spread your legs, Miranda,” Keri commanded.

→Oh. That was fair. Miranda looked past her fattening mammaries to the heavy triangle between her thighs. It was a lot tangled and messy. “Alright, fine,” she conceded, and sat on the sink counter, between two sets of lipstick, powder, and blushes.

→Keri was approaching her with an electric razor and a calculating look. “Oh, I don’t want you wearing my underwear if you’ve got pubic hair still,” she explained. “That’s not hygienic.”

→“Girls, we can still get out of here,” she tried. “I don’t think the whole world is messed up. We can leave and... Keri... what’re you doing?”

→They both looked so far gone that it would take both of them to add and subtract. But she had to try. Maybe there was still some Annette or Keri lurking underneath that bimbo-body exterior.

→“I... okay, fine.” Miranda kept looking at the door. What if a guy came in, and saw her naked and wet and ready to go? Her pussy was so pink. He’d probably fuck her so hard she’d go blonde. That would be awesome. Awful. It’d be awful.

→“...Yes?” Keri said, patiently.

→She had to be very careful with these girls. Very careful. They kept trying to rub on her or slip a hand somewhere newly sensitive. Heck, they kept rubbing on each other, a hand slipping between thighs, or stroking a permanently-erect nipple. And she was pretty juicy herself.

→“Everything is.. it’s got cum all over it,” Miranda said. She stared at the proffered clothes. There was so little fabric she could wad them up in her hand. Someone had. And busted their nut all over them; they were spotted with obvious spurts of dried spooge. They smelled like walnuts.

→Miranda kept trying to get the shower to cold. It seemed like it would help, that it would do... something... about the scent of boy sperm and sex and pussy still making its way slowly through the softened, thinking parts of her head. About the way she felt so wet and... bigger.. her body making lots of insistent demands about lying on her back or stomach, about filling holes with hot inches.. But the god-damned dorm showerhead wouldn’t go below a comforting warm heat.

→Okay, lets figure this out totally logically and intelligently she told herself. First, everyone is being dumb and sexy. Like, it’s not just that their dumb, they’re also all hot. And this had to be more then a temporary outburst of sexual enthusiasm. Her dormmates were... CHANGING... into sperm-obsessed parodies of themselves.

→Even that was getting her turned on. She slipped into a stall with a translucent glass door and, still in her clothes, turned the shower on.

→But at least the bathrooms were empty, however temporarily. Although evidence of slutty girls was still everywhere. The sinks were crammed to overflowing with cosmetics, of every kind, and the girls had drawn hearts on the mirrors with red lipstick. A few vibrators rested casually inside the bathroom stalls, for easy access. They smelled like pussies, and more than one.

→The girl’s bathroom was the only refuge she could think of. First she added another piece of cond-gum to the wad in her mouth. This one was apple. The other one hadn’t lost its flavor or anything, but gum seemed like a good idea. Then she escaped behind the heavy metal door with the reassuring female stick figure on it.

→Her hands felt funny. Miranda worried that rubbing the sperm into them had been a big mistake. She had figured it would just go away, but, instead, they seemed to be covered with a buttery sheen, and, what was worse, they kept trying to stray to her ass or boobs. Like the boy batter was trying to control her.

→“I’m still a lesbian, right, Annette?” Kari said, finally.

→Annette hopped onto the counter. “Sure you are. Go ahead and kneel, then.”

→Kari kneeled, and tried not to let the sperm trickle out of her snatch.

→She opened the door before quite remembering that she was totally naked and that a guy was right outside. Nelson was a newly built stud, the oily hair trimmed to a military precision and the sleeves on his shirt turned up over well-built biceps. He eyed her casually, appreciative.

→Miranda picked up her soaked, wet clothes. Her skin recoiled at the touch. They were coarse and hardly fashionable unless she was digging mines or something. Yuck.