A Coronation of Sorts

 24/25

“Glaze her up boys!” Rob the leader of Mu Alpha Delta decreed. “Make sure she is worthy of that shirt!” His fraternity brothers began to chant in low guttural tones, “HO! HO! HO!” with one fist punching the air in tandem while their other pumped their cocks as they moved towards their target, a kneeling hardbodied bimbo licking her lips in anticipation – the words 'Blowjob Queen' emblazoned across her chest.

Franz watched on in terror – his viewpoint of the incident being rather unfortunate given that it was from behind the eyes of the chesty babe drooling over the charging lances. He tried to close his heavily madeup eyes but his body betrayed him and opened them wider...hungrier. His mouth followed and he waited helplessly for its inevitable impalement.

In one feeble last attempt of salvation, he willed his hands to knock the crown from atop his head, but instead they just lifted his tiny shirt of his enormous implanted breasts and rubbed them excitedly.

Needless to say, Franz wasn't excited. He hadn't been excited since he bought that crown form Gloria Honeypot's Emporium of Fun and Folly. He cursed the day he saw it in the window of that dingy store and thought how perfect it was as an accessory for his girlfriend's winter ball costume. He had run inside and paid for it without thinking and now that was all he could do – think. The crown ruled his body like an absolute monarchy, forcing him to be a royal subject – a passenger behind his own eyes as his own skin and bones spent his savings on hormones and implants until just four miserable months later he was a busty slut with a synthetic ass, synthetic hair and very real tattooed on makeup. All that remained of his old life was a tiny shrivelled penis and a few hanger-on friends who he knew just wanted to fuck him...

The first frat boy was almost in touching distance now. Franz was helpless to avoid his gaze and in that second he realised all hope was lost. Even if he were somehow to break the spell in the moments before the hulking specimen filled his waiting mouth, he would still be stuck with his joke of a silicon filled body, a wardrobe full of skanky outfits and a mountain of debt. Maybe it was for the best the crown was in control. Maybe it was best that this impromptu visit to the frat house was involuntary – rather than being forced into to comparable situations by his dire financial straights and unique assets. The cock would probably taste the same either way, right? He shivered in disgust at his own train of thought as the brother gripped his pigtails and pulled Franz's head towards his throbbing groin.

There was one thought that continued to bother him. That first day outside the shop – did he try on the crown by choice? Or was he already in its clutches as it lay in his?