Capitol Hill Slut

Part 3

The treadmill beat like a metronome through the gym. Sweat poured off Melanie’s brow, dripping into the valley of her substantial breasts. They pressed firm against the inside of her sports bra, creating two delectable bulges in the nylon fabric. Her nipples felt hard. They rubbed against the cups with each step she took. Air conditioned wind blew across her exposed shoulders and back, sending a shiver up her spine despite the effort of running. It was Stephen that decided Melanie needed to work out in the tight sports bra and booty shorts. He said, ‘Voters like candidates that look fuckable’. Melanie wanted to argue, she wanted to tell him she wasn’t an object, but the words fled when he pulled out his cock. She couldn’t help but fall to her knees and giggle. Stephen said Melanie looked fuckable. And it was no wonder. All the running on the treadmill, the hours spent driving the lust down with exhaustion, toned her butt into a mouthwatering bubble. Shorts—more of a tiny band of fabric than actual clothing—dug deep into the crack of her ass, nearly disappearing. Soft golden hair bounced behind her, catching the light and shimmering. “Miss. Brachenright has shown remarkable restraint with her temper,” a pundit on the screen in front of her said. “Honestly, I think we’re dealing with an entirely new candidate here.” “Yeah, a worse candidate,” the other answered. “She’s constantly distracted, her wardrobe choices are questionable at best, and rumors are circulating that she’s performing sexual services to secure donations. If you had asked me six months ago if Melanie Brachenright would stand accused of whoring herself out for campaign donations, I would have laughed in your face. But this new Melanie, and the sudden switching of almost a dozen of the Bangable’s high level donors, makes me wonder.” “But her poll numbers—” “Are up, true. Heaven alone knows why voters are rewarding her behavior. You can’t deny there’s something going on behind—” Melanie changed the channel to a daytime soap—General Hospital. She liked the shape of Nathan Parson’s chin, and politics seemed so boring lately. Melanie pumped her legs faster to the sound of the opening credits. A perfect arm settled itself on Melanie’s treadmill. She turned to face its owner. Sweat sparkled across Adonis’ naked chest, and two tiny muscles twitched in his pectorals. “Can you spot me?” Adonis asked with a smile. Melanie tripped. Her foot caught against the back of the other and she stumbled, losing her balance and almost flying off the treadmill. Adonis caught her in the air, his arm wrapped around her slender waist. She could feel his breath blow hot across the sweat beading on her chest. Goosebumps rose across her skin as her mouth went dry. Adonis looked down at her bulging sports bra. “Making gains, I see.” Melanie shook her head, not quite banishing the cloud of hormones fogging her thoughts. “Would I do any good?” Adonis shrugged as if that wasn’t an issue. “Proper gym practice says I need a spotter, and you’re the only one here. It’s ok. Today is my rest day so I won’t be pushing it.” He set her down and led her by the hand to the free weight section of the gym. Metal plate after metal plate slid onto the iron bar. They clanged together as the plates settled into place, and they began to bend, arching at its middle to slope down on either side. Shavings flaked off the plates and settled into the floor. This is his rest day “Alright, just stand here,” Adonis said, indicating a spot at the top of the bench press. “If I struggle, just grab hold and lift the bar off my chest. It’s easy.” “There’s got to be over four hundred pounds here!” “Four-hundred and fifty, not counting the bar. Like a said, it’s a rest day.” Adonis laid himself on the bench and grabbed the bar. Two identical clouds of white chalk puffed where his hands met the metal. A look of intense concentration stole across his face, and a green and purple vein pulsed in his temple. With a sudden inhalation, he flexed his massive arms and lifted the bar with ease. It clanged twice against the side of the bench press as he maneuvered it into position. An intense, inescapable lust beat within Melanie’s loins. She swayed and rolled back and forth on her heels, tracing the muscle lines of the man laboring beneath her. Breath came to her lungs in quick short gasps, and the strap of her sports bra dug painfully into her back. Suddenly something snapped, and the pressure vanished. Melanie’s sports bra rocketed across the gym to drape itself over a thirty pound dumbbell. Cool air danced across her bare tits. Nipples already stiff from desire, hardened further beneath the chill. Adonis lost his concentration. The barbell dipped and began to fall, and in a snap decision, Melanie grabbed it and tried to lift. It was like moving a mountain. Muscles bulged and veins popped in Adonis’ arms, and with animalistic groan he stopped the fall of the barbell. Slowly, too slowly, it began to rise. My big fat titties almost killed him, Melanie thought as Adonis wracked the weight. Why did I have to wear such a slutty outfit? If I hadn’t dressed like a whore none of this would have happened. “I am so, so sorry,” Melanie said. Crimson blossomed across her cheeks. She covered her chest and looked away in shame. “Are you ok?” Adonis shook his head as if almost dying was par for the course. “Wardrobe malfunction. Mistakes happen.” He grabbed her bra from the dumbbell and held it out to her. “Don’t think it’ll do much good it’ll do, but here you go. You should get a bigger bra. You’re—uh—rather ample.” “This was the bigger bra,” Melanie whispered. This is my fault. All my fault. I’ve been such a stupid slut. Tight bra, tight shorts—how could he not look? I’ve put myself on display. My stupidity could’ve killed him! I need to make this right. Exhaustion pressed on Melanie’s mind like a lead weight. She was so sick of the sleepless nights, the endless cravings, and hours upon hours spent on the treadmill in the futile pursuit of peace. She’d run twenty miles the day before and only managed two hours of rest—the rest of the night she spent with her fingers between her thighs. Nothing satisfied. She’d tried everything. Well, maybe not everything. Something broke within Melanie. It wasn’t big, just a small shattering of something important, but all of sudden things seemed clear. She let her arms fall to her side, revealing her ample chest to the cool air and Adonis’ hungry eyes. “Can I make it up to you by showing you my new cardio regiment?” Adonis grinned. “Sure.” Melanie flung herself at the man. She wrapped her legs around his waist and straddled him. Their lips met in a kiss that sent a spark of satisfaction down her spine. This was what she wanted, what her body needed. Fluid streamed between the cracks in her nylon shorts. It soaked her legs, but she rubbed her dripping slit against the bulge forming in Adonis’ shorts. The bulge felt large. It pulsed with heat and blood, and each time Melanie drove her covered cunt against its outline, she let out a small moan. Adonis grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, snapping her lips off his. Pain shot through her. It heightened the pleasure, and she groaned in need. With a grunt, Adonis grabbed her by her tiny frame and tore her body from his as if she were little more than a child’s doll. He pushed her down into the mat, driving her face into the dirt and filth that covers all gym floors. Melanie arched her back and whined. She pulled her shorts down to her knees and waved her slit at him. “Fuck me. Oh God, just fuck me!” Hard cock pressed against her slit. Her lips opened, molding and forming themselves around Adonis’ shaft. Melanie drooled in eagerness. She wanted more, she wanted to feel him inside her. He was moving too slow. She was past foreplay, past modesty—Melanie needed to get fucked and she needed it now. She slammed her hips into his. Cock slid along her vaginal walls and penetrated deep within her being. She could feel him inside her, moving and shifting. It wasn’t enough. Melanie need more; more of his skin; more of his touch. She lifted her hips and slammed them down, crying in whorish ecstasy. The gym echoed with the wet slap of flesh on flesh, and the floor beneath her grew slimy and slick with their shared fluids. An orgasm crested; it grew grew in her toes, tingling and rising slowly up to her legs and into her core. When it struck in force, Melanie went still, each of her muscles taut and straining. Joints popped in her toes as she curled them, and her throat opened in an endless scream. Adonis ignored her orgasm. He thrust, plunging into her with all the intent and momentum of a rampaging beast. He let loose a roar that thrummed deep within Melanie’s core, then flipped her around, pulling her upright and fucking her in a seated position. Melanie wrapped her arms around his back to try and hold on. She dug her nails deep into his flesh and trailed ten long streaks of red. Blood welled around her fingers and dripped into the floor, their scarlet splotches shining bright. A hot flood of cum poured into Melanie. It filled her with an endless tide of seed, overflowing and escaping around Adonis’ twitching organ. He withdrew with a pop, leaving behind a small stream of white.

* * *

For the first time in months, Melanie slept. She slept like the dead and woke revitalized. A newfound energy coursed through her veins, and though parts of her were sore, it was a pleasant soreness: a slight throbbing in her cunt, tightness to her muscles, and bruising where Adonis had gripped. Around noon the urges returned—just a light reminder, a faint itching in her slit. As the day wore on, though, it grew in intensity, and that night was just as sleepless as all the others. Seven orgasms and a pack of ‘D’ batteries barely dented her sexual hunger. The same was true the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that. And then Melanie broke. The memory of Adonis’ rough hands pushing her down, of his cock driving itself into her dripping snatch, ran through her mind. It was all she could think about. All she wanted. She pulled on a tight micro dress with six inch stilettos—all bought and paid for by Stephen out of the campaign fund, of course. She didn’t bother with a bra. None of them fit anymore. Melanie would later ruminate on how easy the whole affair was. The college kid was too drunk to see straight. Melanie trapped him in a stall when he went to the bathroom and fucked him until his cock spat dust. Sore, bow legged and dripping with seed, she stumbled home and collapsed into bed. It became her nightly routine. At first she tried to ignore the cravings, seeing how long she could hold out, but each time she gave in the periods of resistance grew shorter and shorter even as her desire grew stronger. One cock a day, then two, then three, and before long if she wasn’t fucked at least once every few hours her lust drove her into foaming fury. Stephen kept her in dick and whorish clothes. He brought men in suits to ravish her, and more than once Melanie saw the exchange of green as she lay cum stained and masturbating. She moved through life in a pink fog, increasingly helpless in the face of her ceaseless lust. Then one day it all came to a crashing halt.

* * *

Neon lights flashed across the stage, and the heavy bass screaming from the massive speakers sent tremors of sound pounding within Melanie’s chest. Bodies undulated around her, their bare skin glistening in a combination sweat and glitter. Body odor and alcohol, the taste of cum on her tongue, the music, and all the sensations swelled together into a tidal wave that crashed against Melanie’s mind. It was all too much. Melanie pushed past the rutting bodies and out of the dance hall. The room swirled around her, and so she caught her balance against a wall before stumbling into the bathroom. Cool water spat from the faucet in a stream. She cupped her hands and splashed the water on her face, letting it wash away a little of the heat pouring from her brow. Then, for the first time in weeks, Melanie could think. The lust that had plagued her nights and dominated her thoughts, it was still there only muted, like the beat of the rave pouring in from the chamber beyond. Melanie could hear it; she knew how amazing it would feel to step out and throw herself back into the undulating crowd, but for the moment at least, in the bathroom, it was far, far away. This was her sanctuary—her chance to collect her thoughts. “Who are you?” Melanie whispered. She placed her hand up against the glass, marveling as the image did the same. “Are you me?” Gone were the wrinkles and crow’s feet, and gone was the frown and rage. The woman in the mirror couldn’t be older than twenty. She had smooth, soft skin, with long eyelashes and pert scarlet lips. Two green eyes bore into Melanie’s own, sparkling like polished emeralds. They held a promise and screamed the perfect mixture of innocence and carnal hunger. “You’re beautiful,” Melanie said, her voice heavy with longing. “I was never beautiful.” Twin tits with purple pasties pressed against a tight fishnet top. Their meat bulged between the thin holes in the fabric, and they drew the viewer’s eyes, dominating Melanie’s hyper petite frame. Thanks to the treadmill, a toned stomach sloped down, its muscles tight and clear under the pale bathroom lights. Hips wrapped in a tight micro skirt flared wide, leading to bare legs that ended in six inch heels. The bathroom door slammed against the far wall as Stephen strode into the room. He wore a smart business suit with a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. It seemed almost feral. “Mel, baby. How you doing? Why don’t you come out? You’re missing your own party.” “Stephen, what happened to me? Why do I look like this?” “Oh, looks like it’s time for somebody’s booster shot,” Stephen said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a chrome case with a syringe and bottle inside. Stephen filled the syringe with a tube of opaque fluid. “Why don’t you come over here, Mel? I’ll make all the bad thoughts go away.” Melanie backed away. “You’re scaring me, Stephen. Why are you doing this?” “Why? You want to know why?!” Stephen said with a malicious giggle. “Sure, this will be the last time you have a coherent thought, so why the hell not?” He took a step towards her. “I’m a bimbofier, Melanie. It’s what I do. I turn stuck up cunts into sluts and whores for whoever pays me enough money.” “But you though, you were a special case Melanie. I fucking hate you,” Stephen continued. His tone dropped. “So stuck up, so bitter and mean, so superior—you were going to lose, Melanie. You were going to lose the whole damn thing. But that wasn’t enough. From the moment I saw you, I wanted to get you on your knees. And in a few more minutes I’ll have you there. Again. Forever.” Lust burned between Melanie’s thighs. She swallowed with a loud gulp and pushed the feeling down. “The transformation is permanent, you see,” Stephen said. “You’ll always be a slut with massive tits—just the kind of person you’ve always hated. The nanites will take care of that. It’s the second part, the absolute destruction of your mind that I need to do next. This shot will turn you into a drooling fuck doll.” “Stay away from me! Stay away!” Melanie screamed. She grabbed her purse and swung it, but it missed, spilling a rainbow of lubricant and condoms across the floor. It grew sleek and shiny beneath the bathroom lights. Madness crept into Stephen’s eyes. “I did it, Mel. You’re governor of Colorado, and I’ll be by your side ruling in your stead while you party and fuck yourself into oblivion.” “You’re a monster!” Melanie shrieked. Her heel caught a puddle of the lubricant that spilled from her purse, but she managed to catch her balance. “You’re fired. I’m firing you!” Her back pressed against the wall. There was nowhere to run now. Stephen smiled. He reached into his pants and unzipped himself. “You want it, don’t you? Just give in. Get on your knees and let yourself go.” Melanie wanted it. She wanted it more than anything. The head of Stephen’s cock dangled from the gap in the trousers, white precum dotting its tip. Saliva dribbled down her chin. “I-I-I can’t,” she said, taking another step. “I can’t.” “On your knees, slut!” Melanie’s legs buckled. She caught herself on the bathroom counter, all of the strength gone from her limbs. The world around her swirled, and even at this distance she could smell him. Stephen. A man. Melanie knew what to do with men. Then, with a sudden burst of will, she forced her legs straight. “No!” Stephen leapt at her, syringe in hand. Melanie dodged to the left, but he grabbed her elbow and flung her across the room. She landed in a painful heap against the stall. She backed up, holding the purse of condoms in front of her like a shield. Useless. It was all useless. Stephen was too strong. “Maybe I’ll stick you in my wall,” Stephen said. “I’ll pour the cement over your body, leaving your holes open to the air. That way when I need a good fuck I can just use you like a receptacle.” He leaned over her, the metal end of the syringe flashing in the light. A loud squeak echoed through the bathroom as Stephen stepped into a puddle of lubricant. He lost his balance and rose up into the air, his head smacking against the far porcelain sink. It let out a loud thunk, and then he landed in a motionless heap. Blood dripped from a crack in his skull, and his eyes stared listlessly at the ceiling. Melanie’s heart raced. She poked him with her heel, but he didn’t move. Looking around, she quickly rubbed down any surface she might have touched and left the bathroom, avoiding looking at the body slowly cooling on the bathroom floor.

* * *

Melanie’s hips crashed into assemblyman Geraldo’s groin with a wet slap. The office air felt hot and reeked of sex. Their breath came in rapid panting, exhaustion mixing with the mutual desire for more. It drove them forward. Her tits dangled in the assemblyman’s face, and he took one of her scarlet nipples in his mouth and suckled. Moaning, Melanie grabbed him by the hair and pushed him deeper, smothering her lover in her breasts. “I’m going to cum,” Geraldo said. “Cum on my face,” Melanie answered, leaping off him and kneeling at the edge of her desk. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. Geraldo pumped his dick furiously. A groan slipped from lips, and then three shots of seed spat from his cock’s head, streaking through the air and landing across Melanie’s nose. She gathered the cum and pushed it around, savoring the feel of it on her skin. Some of it got into her mouth. With a smile, she swallowed and licked the last salty remnant from her hand in hunger. “This was a good meeting,” Geraldo said, pulling on his suit. “We made great progress. A few more like this and I’m sure we’ll find common ground.” “You’ll let the bill enter debate?” “Well, I don’t know if we’re ready to go that—” Melanie knelt before him and took Geraldo’s rapidly softening cock in her mouth. With a quick suck, she cleaned it of its leftover cum and sweat. With an audible gulp she swallowed and shot him a grin. “You were saying?” Geraldo gulped. “I suppose a debate would do no harm.” “Good boy,” Melanie said, picking her bra off a lamp. Its buckle was broke. Melanie frowned at the lacy thing, but that’s what she got for choosing form over function. Still, it made her look hot. She opened a drawer and shoved it in with a pile of similarly broken bras. “I’ll see you next week. Have Jessica put you on the schedule.” The assemblyman cupped Melanie’s butt, letting its meat flop black into place. “Looking forward to it.” After Geraldo left, a prim looking woman in a tight office skirt poked her head through the door. “He treat you right?” “He always does,” Melanie said, buttoning her shirt. Her tits pressed against the fabric—their rosy nipples darkening two large blotches beneath the thin cotton. Even as Melanie looked at them, they hardened as another surge of lust streaked through her loins. She tamped it down and pulled on a pinstripe micro skirt. Little more than a belt, it utterly failed as a garment, but it did the one thing it had to: show off her ass. “Put Geraldo on for next week before lunch, Jessica. I want to work up an apetite,” melanie said. She ran a comb through her hair. It wasn’t necessary—her hair always came out perfect. It never tangled, but the feel of the comb rubbing against her scalp felt good. “Geraldo agreed to let the assembly debate our single payer addendum, which will point the media square where we want them.” “He won’t filibuster it?” Melanie smiled and opened a tube of lipstick, painting her lips a deep scarlet. She gave herself a kiss in a hand mirror to smooth out the texture. “Geraldo might be a member of the opposition, but he’s still a man.” Another surge of lust tore through her. “Speaking of which, where is my three o’ clock?” “In the waiting room, Governor,” Jessica said. “Reverald. Owlton, head of the Christian’s Against something or other. I wasn’t paying attention. His organization comprises about four percent of the electorate, and their endorsement would swing a lot of votes in your direction come reelection. I’d suggest staying on his good side.” Melanie unbuttoned the top of her shirt. It sprang apart eagerly, baring a valley of cleavage. “Is he cute?” “Very,” Jessica said with a grin. “Deeply religious, though.” Melanie licked her lips and smiled. “My dear, that’s part of the fun.”

END