Kookies and Kreme
by Kris P. Kreme
Melissa had no idea that she’d encounter anyone like the man in the old brick house that day. There were rumors about that house, and even more rumors about the mysterious man who owned it. Nobody ever set foot on his doorstep, and no one ever had the nerve to try and sell him anything.
The man in the old brick house was not to be trifled with. He was not to be treated like your everyday slob who fell victim to a pretty face selling cookies door to door. Melissa knew she never should have done what she did.
Selling cookies door to door seemed the simplest of tasks to the high school senior. She was going to raise money for the senior prom committee and make this year the best Kristal Heights High had ever seen. And who really could resist buying cookies from a girl like Melissa?
Maybe she should’ve stopped while she was ahead. She’d already flirted her way past any resistance for five blocks and sold more than enough cookies to make her prom committee bow before her. She’d proven that selling anything only took two things for someone like her and those two things were brains and a body to die for.
Now here she was, standing on the doorstep of the man in the old brick house, feeling her brains melt. Oh sure, they often used the phrase melt your brains in sci-fi movies or silly B-grade television specials, but never before had she understood how accurate a phrase that could be.
She could actually feel her brains melting, the tissue that seemed to be her entire world melting and somehow draining away. At first her ability to move freely of her own volition had left her. Then her reasoning skills were dwindling. She had no idea where her brains were melting and draining away to… no idea that is until she felt the first subtle pull at her dress.
Melissa had been dressed to show off a little cleavage, but she never had more than a perky B-cup before she stopped by the old brick house that afternoon. Now, she knew that the perky rack she’d been able to support quite easily was a thing of the past. Her mind was simmering into a stew and all that stew was pouring straight down into her expanding twin containers attached to her chest.
The girl that had broken all records for a day of selling cookies door to door was slowly turning into a brainless slut with tits bigger than the size of her head. And yet here she was, frozen, unable to look away from the man who stood there smiling.
She could feel the dress tightening, lowering, the spaghetti straps reaching a breaking point. Soon she’d be topless… and brainless. And then what? Would the man let her go? Would he take her inside the house where no one ever went? What would become of Melissa?
Only the man who owned the old brick house would know for sure, and slowly Melissa was finding what was left of her thoughts turning to other things, things like how much easier selling things might be with a body like this. But then, what would she sell now?
Probably whatever the man in the old brick house told her to sell.
The End
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