Home
Stories
Events
Writing
About Us
Updates
Contest
Submit a Story
Tags
All Stories
Challenge
Workshop
Links
Short Stories
Game
Guide
Comments
Underground
Archive
Achievements

Writer Pages

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZAnon
Alvo TorelliMarcusMesmer`s BaubleThe PediatricianPiperWillobee Goode

Random Stories

♦
♦
♦
♦

Challenge

Pedo Joke:
-Click for the punch line-

The Music Box

by Mesmer's Bauble

mc; g; nosex

The tinny music filled her ears. It was all she could hear; all she ever wanted to hear. The enchanting song plucked out on tiny brass keys within the music box. While she found the song engrossing it was the ballerina that fully captured her attention; she had stared at it for endless hours and knew every curve of its porcelain body and each fold of its iridescent mother of pearl dress as it spun round and round on its mirrored base.

There was nothing more important than watching the little dancing girl. She knew that with all of her heart, and why would she want to do anything else? Even though she knew each curve on its body better than those on her own it was always showing her something new, a new flash of color, a new curve, a sparkle as the changing light changed the way the light reflected in her eyes. Most of all, it made her happy, so blissfully happy, her mind filled with the song and the dance forever.

A slight frown creased her face as the song started to falter and the dancer began to slow. She wasn’t worried, she knew all she had to do was wind it again, and winding the box's key brought a different sort of pleasure. Still, in those few moments when the music was gone and the perfect dancer was just a lifeless doll hazy thoughts drifted into her mind. They were always unclear, always foggy and hard to focus on, but they always came and she didn’t like them.

Her hand reached out gripping the slowing key and bringing it to a halt, as her tiny hand began the action of winding the box she felt intense pangs of pleasure, pleasure that flowed up through her, pleasure unlike anything she had experienced in the past; winding would be her favorite thing except even through the haze of pleasure the memories came.

A young girl playing in a park. There was someone else there someone who was important but she didn’t remember who. Then there was fear and shock; she was being grabbed pulled into a dark place. People speaking around her; she never remembered the whole words just phrases like, ‘Good Catch’ and ‘Fetch a high price’

The winding continued, and she began to pant, she knew when she was done she would be rewarded. Rewarded with pleasure for winding her music box. If she could have thought clearly it would have seemed silly. The music and the dance were reward enough, yet each time something shuttered through her body causing her to flush with heat, make the world go white, and her toes curl. She was almost done winding now.

She was put into a white room, no; the walls were pearlescent, shifting in color. The room was filled with music but it was a bad music and it told her bad things, things she wasn’t supposed to do or think about because they were naughty and dirty. She couldn’t remember exactly what those things were they now… happily lost in the fog but she had been there for what seemed like a very long time, then one day she had been given her music box and everything got good again.

The key could be turned no further and as she let it go the pleasure wracked her body and she moaned out but then the music started and the ballerina spun and she was lost in it once again, all bad thoughts gone nothing but the music and the dance in her happy empty mind.

“…dance…” a voice spoke, it wasn’t hers she didn’t know whose it was but it seemed like it may have been talking for a while though she just now noticed it. She could turn her head away to see but that would mean stopping looking at her music box and she never did that. “It’s time to dance.”

If the voice said so it must be right, but she wasn’t sure what it meant. She felt gentile hands moving about her body. Some were in her hair, a golden lock falling in front of her vision blocking her view for a short moment before it was caught up again. She was gently lifted to her feet and as she stared down at the ballerina; admiring it from a totally new angle, more hands caressed her naked body, rubbing something into it. She had a foggy recollection that it was lotion of some kind but she didn’t care.

Then she was being dressed, an almost imperceptible weight fell across her as she put out first arm and then another. She couldn’t recall the last time she had been anything but naked but it didn’t worry her, nothing did. The voice was still talking but it was hard to focus on anything, the dancer spun so prettily and oddly though it still made her very happy she felt strangely jealous. She wished she could be as pretty dancing for someone, giving them pleasure the same way the porcelain figure did for her.

She was still musing on the thought when a hand close the music box and the dancer disappeared as the music stopped. She reached for the key but knew that was wrong, suddenly she was very confused a just a little frightened. Looking around for the first time in ages she saw she was in a long room filled with small tables, at each table sat a young girl most around her own age. Each was staring rapturously at an object.

One girl admired a glossy high heeled shoe, another was practically drooling over an odd glass object, long and thin with a bulbous end, yet another was watching a portable DVD player; the girl had headphones on and she could just make out what looked like people wrestling naked on the screen.

The voice spoke again, and now that her music was gone she turned to look at the speaker, it was a man in a mask that covered his eyes, he was smiling at her and that made her a little more comfortable. He offered her a hand and she took it as he lead her from the room with all the other girls and into a large space one wall looking like cloth, a stage, the thought floated up from the back of her brain.

The man smiled and said, “You’ll do wonderfully just remember what you were taught.” Her mind raced and her fear grew stronger, what had she been taught? She didn’t remember being taught anything, everything but her music box was a fog but without the song the fog was not all white and empty but was filled with strangeness.

Music BoxAnother voice spoke, much more loudly then the man next to her, “Next up is ‘The Dancer’ age seven, virginity intact, minimal programming to allow for maximum customization.” The man next to her pushed her forward and she found herself stumbling through the curtain and onto a bright stage, lights were on her from all directions shining through her translucent dress and making it hard for her to see. She could still tell that the room beyond the stage was filled with men and women all wearing masks and hats and holding paddles. Her panic rose and she was about to bolt when suddenly she was saved.

The plinking tinny sound of her music filled the room and filled her but soon it changed becoming far more rich and melodious then her music box ever was and it was wonderful. It took all her fears away and left her with only one thought. “It’s time to dance.” Closing her eyes she lost herself in the music and began to spin and turn, just like her ballerina she smiled, she was dancing. She was going to make someone very happy.

End.
If you are under the legal age to view mature content, if you are offended by it, or if it is illegal in your location, then leave this site immediately. None of these stories may be viewed by or distributed to a minor by any means. None of the situations in these stories should be attempted in real life. The stories on this site are works of fiction and are for entertainment purposes only; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, excluding parodies and works involving public figures. All fan fiction stories are parodies of the original content and are not authorized, sponsored by, or affiliated with owners of the original works. No fan fiction story implies anything about any person or entity affiliated with the subject of the fan fiction. No story involving a public figure implies anything about the public figure in real life. No story may be copied, reposted, sold, or otherwise distributed without the express permission of its writer.

Tools

Messages